I slip my fingers under the underwear band and pull it down. It drops to the ground around my feet. The cool air in the kitchen hits the back of my thighs, making me shiver.

“Keep your skirt lifted and lean farther over the counter. I’m going to spank you.” My heart pounds as he continues talking. “This is a punishment. This is so you know never to disobey me again.” He places his hand on my back. “I don’t want to hurt you, Sofiya. But you leave me no choice.”

His hand slams down onto my butt. I cry out and jerk forward over the counter.

“Don’t move,” he growls, promptly spanking me again. I bite my lip to keep from crying as he spanks me over and over and over. My skin must be beet red from how hot it feels.

I rest my cheek on the counter. The coolness of it forces me to stay in the moment. Mikhail is punishing me. All because I wanted to protect my sisters.

It wasn’t even my idea. I wanted to go to Mikhail for help, but Vik wouldn’t have it. She forced my hand, and now, I’m getting spanked for it.

Mikhail is relentless with his slaps. Every time he hits my backside, I wince and squeeze my eyes shut tighter. Tears seep through my closed eyes.

“You.” Spank. “Will.” Spank. “Not.” Spank. “Leave.” Spank. “Me.” He gives me one final, incredibly painful smack and then backs away. Thank god for the counter. It’s the only thing keeping me up right now.

I hiss when Mikhail gently touches the skin of my butt. His fingers slide down between my legs, where he starts rubbing me. I gasp, my hips arching back on instinct. Wetness is already forming between my legs.

Mikhail’s finger brushes my entrance, and I tense. “You are mine, Sofiya.” He thrusts his finger inside of me. It hurts. God, it hurts.

I cry out, gripping the counter, and my dress falls down around my hips. Mikhail growls.

“Keep your skirt up.”

I quickly grab the edges of my skirt and lift it back up as he continues thrusting his finger in and out of me.

“Are you my dirty girl?” he asks. His presence, his heat, his body right behind me. It’s all too much.

“No,” I cry out. “I’m good.”

“You’re good? Because you weren’t acting like it. I want you to be my good girl. Don’t you want that?”

“Yes!”

He twists his finger inside of me, sending a ripple of pleasure right through my core. My legs clench together, but he uses his foot to separate them.

“If you want to be my good girl, then you will never entertain notions of leaving me ever again. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

I pause. What exactly is he asking of me? Mikhail has never told me to call him by anything other than his name.

He rams his finger deeper into me. It hurts so much, but it also feels amazing. What is wrong with me? “Yes, what, Sofiya?”

“I don’t know what to call you.”

He leans down and says right into my ear, “Call me ‘sir’.”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper.

He gently kisses my cheek. “Good girl.” And then he stands back up and pulls his finger out of me. I slump against the counter.

“I wanted to come to you,” I admit. “I wanted you to help my sisters.”

“But you didn’t. You decided to leave me instead.” His words slap me in the face. Without a backward glance, he leaves the room.

I push myself up on shaking legs, pull my underwear back on, and right my skirt.

Soon after, Mila and Vik come running back into the kitchen.

“We saw him leave,” Mila says. “We were in the living room.”

I tense. “Did you hear anything?”

“No.” Mila’s face is so honest I know she’s telling me the truth.

“What happened?” Vik asks.

“He punished me.”

“What does that mean?”

I just stare at Vik, letting her fill in the blanks. A horrified expression crosses her face. “Ok. That’s it. We’re leaving. None of us are safe here.”

“No,” I practically shout. “No. I can’t leave. And neither can you. We’ll be safe here.”

“You just said your husband punished you. None of us are safe here.”

“Let me talk to him. Let me convince him you won't get me into trouble. I will make sure he’ll keep all of us safe, ok? Just let me do that.”

Mila slowly nods. “I think we should let her do that, Vik.”

Vik’s face is ice cold. The Ice Queen.

“You’re not safe back in New York,” I remind her. “And you’re not safe in Moscow, where you don’t even know the language. Let me talk to Mikhail.”

After a moment, she sighs. “Fine.”

I brush past her and head to Mikhail’s office, passing Mary on the way. She’s aggressively cleaning the floor and glares at me as I go.

Standing before Mikhail’s office fills me with fear. I’m willingly going back to him after what he just did to me. I want nothing more than to run away from him. And I want nothing more than to have him hold me again.

I knock.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“It’s Sofiya.”