Page 16 of The Vixen

The belt tightens as a laugh bellies out of me, my breath slapping Luna’s lips without so much as a flinch to show for it. My hand twitches with the itch to wrap around her throat, but it can’t. It won’t. Temptation is the point. I’m not surprised she figured that out.

“Looneytunes, baby… This is my game. I wouldn’t have invented it if I wasn’t willing to play.Please…” My eyes dip pointedly to the floor. “Go ahead.”

The slap comes without any change in Luna’s expression. It’s sharp, quick, and forceful, jerking my head to the side before I can process any movement of her hand.

My face warms, but the sting of the slap vanishes when I try in vain to suck in a breath.

Nothing. Not a whistle of air.

Do not turn.

Do not struggle.

An acid taste floods my tongue as my throat contracts against the belt. My lungs burn and ache while Luna takes my face and brings me to look at her, making the situation worse.

Can’t help it.

I raise my hands to the belt while tiny, garbled snorts escape my mouth and nose.

Luna just watches me with her face tilted in sadistic fascination—a psychopath pulling apart a butterfly’s wings.

The welt on my forehead throbs, vessels bulging with unrelenting pressure until they feel as though they’ll burst.

Red!

Stupid thought.

I have no voice.

There are no safewords.

Luna isn’t finished.

My vision blurs, and black specks float in my eyes while panic dims to fatigue.

As my hands lower to my sides, the belt releases, and my head bobs forward. I jerk up with a gasp so sudden that I choke it back up.

“We said no pet names.”

The words have no meaning as air seesaws through my mouth, but as I catch my breath, my brain flickers to life. My face morphs from tingly to hot as I pin Luna with a glare.

She secures the belt back into place—true to her word about making this worse for me than it was for her.

At least I gave her a break.

“No slapping,” I croak, my throat already bruised. “If we’re going to play, play fair.”

Lines break out between her brows. “Who said we were playing?”

No hint of amusement. No softening of playfulness. Her eyes remain steady as she speaks, and all her uncertainty from earlier seems to harden to pure conviction.

My chest flexes to prevent a shudder, but I can’t ignore it. Ignoring it is ignoring reality.

This woman is dangerous.

Act accordingly.

My core braces as she once again finds pleasure in exploring my body, her middle finger ping-ponging down the center of my abs. When she slips her hand inside my pants, I hold my breath. Keep perfectly still.