Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 38 Stroke Him Like This

Chapter 38: 38 Stroke Him Like This

Lara POV

"Eat soup," said Chef Srisuk, lifting a spoon to my lips.

My face must be redder than the goddamn sun.

I sat up against the headboard of Emmanuel Sagres’s massive bed, my arms still tied behind me. My spanked ass stung against the sheets as I bent my knees. The toy inside me continued to hum at a low vibration, refusing to let me pull my attention away from my body for long.

It had already been teasing me for hours, until I made a damp patch on the sheets between my legs.

The blanket draped over my lap gave me the barest thread of modesty, but it did nothing for my shattered dignity.

I pressed my lips together, dying inside.

If anything was more evil than Emmanuel leaving me tied up in his bed, it had to be sending his staff to feed me while I was still tied up in his bed.

Chef Srisuk huffed.

"Aiya."

"Can you untie me?"

"No, no."

She lifted the spoon again.

I stared back at her round face despairingly.

"Ay, you must eat," Chef Srisuk said, in her brisk, no-nonsense way. "I don’t know about these games you kids play, but you must keep up strength."

She stirred the bowl of tomato soup.

Oh God, just kill me now.

"It’s not a game," I groaned, throwing my head back against the headboard with a dull thunk. "He’s torturing me."

"This? Torture?" Srisuk shook her head. "No. If Master torture you, not like this."

I pouted.

"My husband torture me," Srisuk said, her voice darkening. "I almost die. I know the difference."

I remembered what Srisuk had said before when I was helping her in the kitchen — that her husband beat her, and that she killed him. I licked my cracked lips nervously.

"Oh..."

"Mm-hm?" Srisuk said knowingly, nodding as though to say ’you see’?

She offered me the spoon again and I opened my mouth, sheepishly swallowing a mouthful of warm, fragrant soup.

If I was honest, I knew the difference too.

Dad used to hit Mom when he came home and found that she had gambled away her grocery money. It used to drive me crazy. I’d put myself between them and Dad would yell at me too. Mom’s bruises would fade, then the next week the two of them would kiss and make up and be perfectly fine again.

I always had a niggling fear deep down that I was like Mom, when I got turned on by clients who treated me roughly. But I had been able to compartmentalize and tell myself, hey, if I could get some enjoyment out of it, that was all the better, right?

But when it came to Emmanuel Sagres, I couldn’t compartmentalize.

He seemed to trigger my submissive instincts effortlessly, and it was so terrifying to lose control to a man like him that I would rather fight tooth and nail, no matter how crazy or futile it was.

He was a bad man.

A dangerous man. A ruthless killer.

But even after I pointed a gun at his face and shot up his bedroom, he was not punishing me like a mafia king.

He was punishing me like a lover.

"I don’t know why he’s doing this," I muttered helplessly.

"He is afraid," Srisuk said absently, as though that was very obvious.

My eyebrows shot up incredulously.

"Afraid?"

Were we talking about the same man?

Srisuk pulled a face like she had said too much and mimed zipping her lips.

"Oh, go on. I won’t tell him," I said.

Srisuk sighed.

"Men like Master Emmanuel, you must stroke gently, like this," she said, petting the air as though stroking an invisible cat. "Afraid. Not like to lose control. But not bad man."

I felt my eyebrows draw together at the implication that Emmanuel Sagres was some kind of oversized house cat.

Srisuk shook her head and sighed even more heavily, muttering something under her breath in a foreign language. She picked up the empty bowl and left, leaving me alone again in Emmanuel’s bed, stewing in my conflicted thoughts.

Welp.

Everyone else in this household clearly had a very different impression of the Master of the House than me.

—

Emmanuel POV

My thoughts kept flying back up to the penthouse throughout the day, even as I gave orders and settled business without a hitch.

I used to think of the penthouse as my place of rest and solitude that I wanted no other to intrude upon, but now, knowing what was waiting up there in my bed gave me a warm curl of anticipation. I finished my affairs with more efficiency than usual.

When I stepped foot back into the bedroom, it was pristine again. The damage that had been done to the wall had disappeared without a trace, as though nothing had ever happened. A new piece of art hung in place of the one that Lara had destroyed.

My bed was perfectly made.

And on top of it, my little fox was still bound, lying face down horizontally across the bed, in that rumpled shirt of mine.

The image gave me an irrational swell of satisfaction.

She lifted her head as I stepped closer, the defiance in her green eyes dimmed, but not entirely gone.

"Ready to apologize?"

She opened her mouth, and then closed it again, dropping her head down against the sheets again with an annoyed whine.

"Emmanuel..."

Her voice trailed off, a soft, pleading note in it that sent a pleasant tickle down my spine.

I liked it when she called me sir.

I was starting to enjoy it more when she used my name. Especially in that rasping, pleading voice, like it cost her something to say it.

"Yes...?" I answered.

Stepping closer to the bed, I let my fingers brush against the curve of her ass, lightly lifting the hem of my shirt to take a look at her. The angry red flush to her cheeks had faded to a softer pink. She pressed her thighs together, the low hum of the vibrator still working ruthlessly deep inside her cunt.

I didn’t touch it.

Instead, I pulled the hem of the shirt down again. I trailed two fingers up her spine, circling around the bed to stand in front of her head.

I tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear as I looked down at her.

She worried at her lip with her teeth, still trying to keep the fight going.

"I’ll apologize," she said, her voice low and muffled. "But untie me first."

There she went, trying to negotiate again.

"No. You’ll do it like this." I crouched down to look at her at eye level. "And you had better convince me that you are not lying to me again. Or I will just keep you like this."