"You’re insane! Let me go, Asher!" Violet struggled fiercely against him, her frustration boiling over. But her struggles were futile because Asher’s grip was like iron, firm and unyielding.
"You brought this upon yourself," Asher replied calmly, his voice devoid of malice but filled with that maddening air of authority he wielded so effortlessly. "Every action has consequences. Blame yourself for this one, little purple."
"Stop this now! Have you entirely lost it, you psycho?" Violet growled, wriggling furiously in an attempt to break free.
Asher leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "Psycho? Maybe. But what does that make you when you deliberately disobey my orders? When you try to leave me behind? We’re supposed to be a team, who does that?"
Her skin prickled as his words sank in. Surely, he wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be. Did he genuinely believe she was bound to him?
The way she had left after his ridiculous proposal should have been answer enough. But no, this was Asher. He heard only what he wanted and discarded the rest.
Deciding force wouldn’t work, Violet switched tactics, her voice softening. "Fine, you’ve made your point, Asher. I won’t try to run again. I wouldn’t leave you, my king." She played into his delusions, hoping it would change his mind.
But Asher merely shook his head. "That’s where you’re wrong, Violet. I’m not doing this just to make a point."
"Then what?" Violet snapped, her patience fraying. "This is pathetic, Asher. What do you think this will accomplish? Do you think I’ll bow to you? Fear you? Never."
"Fear me?" Asher repeated, his voice dropping to a chillingly soft tone. "No, Violet. I don’t want you to fear me. That’s what makes you different. You challenge me, and I enjoy that. But," he paused, his tone darkening, "I want you to remember this moment every time you think about running. Every time you think you can defy your king."
Before Violet could respond, his hand came down sharply against her backside. The sound was deafening in the quiet room, the sting immediate. Violet’s eyes widened as she gasped, the sensation both shocking and humiliating.
"What the—!" she began, but another slap landed, harder this time, cutting her off. Her body jerked at the force, her cheeks burning with pain and embarrasment.
"Asher, you bastard! You’re really spanking me?!" she yelled, disbelief and rage coloring her tone. What the hell was wrong with him?
Asher chuckled, infuriatingly smug. "Of course. A punishment befitting a naughty queen."
"You’re fucking mad!" Violet hissed, her voice trembling with indignation as she squirmed against his hold.
"Language, my dear," he chided, his hand coming down again, the sting sharper than before. Violet bit her lip, determined not to cry out and give him the satisfaction.
"You’ll regret this," she growled through gritted teeth. "I swear, Asher, I’ll make you regret this."
He paused, his hand resting lightly on her back as he tilted his head, a mockery of thoughtfulness. "Perhaps," he mused. "But right now, I’m enjoying myself far too much to care."
Another slap, then another, the sharp sting lingering longer each time. Violet wanted to claw his face, to scream at him, but all she could do was endure. The smug satisfaction radiating from him was what hurt most, and she vowed then and there that she would surely find a way to turn the tables on him.
It wasn’t until the sixth spank that Violet stopped counting, unable to keep up with it anymore. Her butt felt like it was on fire, and she was on the verge of tears as he kept spanking her relentlessly.
Asher leaned closer, his tone mocking. "You could cry, you know. Nobody would hear you. Your roommates are sound asleep."
"You’re sick," Violet spat, her voice shaking with fury. "You’re a sick, twisted bastard."
"And you, my purple queen, are far too stubborn for your own good. But don’t worry," he said, his lips curling into a wicked smile. "I’ll break that stubbornness eventually."
The next slap was so hard that tears finally spilled down her cheeks. "I hate you, Asher! I fucking hate you!" she cried out.
"It’s such a good thing," he said smoothly, delivering another slap, "that hate is just a thin line away from love."
"Ahh!" Violet cried out, clutching the bedsheets as tears flowed freely. She wasn’t as tough as she wanted to believe.
"Just say you’re sorry, little purple. Promise me you won’t try to leave again, and we’ll be good."
"Fuck you!" Violet spat, her voice filled with venom.
Pah!
Another slap.
"Don’t worry about the fucking part," he said with a smirk. "We’ll get to that eventually. For now, let’s enjoy this romantic moment."
Romantic moment? Wait—what?!
Pah! Pah!
"Fine, I’m sorry!" Violet finally shouted, her voice cracking.
Asher scoffed. "Twenty spanks to get an apology? You’re a tough one, my little purple."
He began to massage her sore, reddened skin, and she flinched at the sensation. "So, say it properly. Sorry for what, my purple queen?"
"Sorry for running away," Violet muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.
"And?" he pressed, waiting for her full admission.
But Violet clamped her lips shut. She would never agree to be his queen.
"You’re sorry for what, my queen?" he repeated, his voice steely.
Pah!
Another slap, harder than before. And to her horror, a strange wetness pooled between her legs. Violet realized she was aroused and cursed herself for her body’s betrayal.
"Cat got your tongue, little purple?" Asher taunted, delivering another slap. This time, to her utter mortification, a small moan escaped her lips.
Asher leaned in, his voice a seductive whisper. "Say it, Violet. What are you sorry for?"
"Please," she whimpered, her voice barely audible.
"Please, what?" he asked, his tone maddeningly calm. Then, with another sharp slap, Violet buried her face into the mattress, her muffled moan escaping into the room.
Asher had done this on purpose. And Violet hated him all the more for it.