It killed her to know he didn’t believe her.
Maybe it would be easier to take her own life?
No. She wouldn’t think like that. There’s no way she’d ever allow them to win. She was the boss here, not them. Draven was wrong, and one day, she’d be here and he’d have to apologize to her.
He touched the post. “Do we even know how many women got whipped here?”
“Plenty,” Axel said.
“Draven,” she said. There was no need to ask what was about to happen. He was clearly going to whip her. “You don’t have to do this.”
“My father believed all women were a weakness. To make sure they were good, they had to experience … punishment.” Draven stood in front of her, and she glared at him. He stroked a finger down her cheek. “You. You have been a very naughty bitch. It’s time you realized your place in this world, and it’s not anywhere but fucking beneath me, beneath us all. You are here to be used, and to learn to keep your fucking mouth shut.”
“Draven?”
“Shut the fuck up, Axel.”
Tears filled her eyes as Draven stared at her. What was he hoping to prove? Why do this?
“They died because of you. For ten years you’ve been living your life without a care in the world, and now it’s time for you to get what is coming to you. Tillie, please, begin. I know you love to teach as you punish,” Draven said.
She looked toward Axel, who was now staring at the ground.
“So, you don’t want to break her skin too soon. That wouldn’t do well at all.”
Harper screamed as she felt the first lash of the whip on her skin. She held onto the post, and she couldn’t believe this was happening to her. A month ago, she was working at a florist with a boyfriend who cared and she didn’t deserve.
Tears leaked down her chest, and she cried out as the next lash cut through her skin. The pain and the cold combined together to make it impossible for her to numb the pain.
Over and over, Tillie showed them how to whip her, and with each lash, the sting burned brighter.
Draven just stood there, watching her. The smirk on his face let her know he was happy this was happening to her.
He wanted this. He wanted this woman to hurt her.
Draven was doing this to prove to her he didn’t care. He didn’t love her. She was nothing to him. He was nothing more than a monster.
Someone asked a question, and Tillie changed the angle. There was a difference in the sting. It wasn’t as sharp, but Tillie didn’t stop, and the pain was still there.
Harper burst into tears, but didn’t beg the woman to stop. In the back of her mind, she knew she deserved this, and worse. The men and women she lured for Alan, did they go through this? Were any of them experiencing this right now as she was?
There was no way she’d give anyone the satisfaction of knowing the pain she was in.
Tillie whipped her flesh, repeating different strokes and different force, each one creating their own kind of pain, until finally, Draven stepped forward.
Harper was no longer holding herself up anymore, the restraints on the post doing the job. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see, not wanting anything anymore.
This was archaic. It was fucking wrong. One day, she would tear this fucking post out and burn it up, after, she hoped, having Draven in this position.
In fact, she wondered how many of those disgusting assholes had been on a post before in their life? Did they even give a shit what they were inflicting?
She hated them all. This was not going to go unpunished. She’d have her revenge on them, on all of them. Tillie, that fucking bitch would one day know what it felt like, and the others for watching, they would feel it too.
Draven’s sting was harder than Tillie’s. That first lash she felt cut her skin. Even after the cold and the pain of before, his hurt the most. She didn’t know if it was because of how hard he was hitting her, or if it was because he’d been the one to strike her.
“This is for Buck!”
Harper screamed at the impact. Resting her head against the post, she tried to not think, to do anything, but it wasn’t helping.
The pain consumed her, and she sobbed for him to stop, to not hurt her anymore.
When it came for Jett, Harper didn’t remember anything as she passed out into glorious bliss.
****
Draven held the whip. “Leave!”
The men and women left the spot where Harper was now passed out.
His guards knew what he wanted. They were all to leave, to be gone by the time he got back with Harper.
She was out cold, and as he approached, he saw her back was red, covered in the welts. He’d broken the skin.