“I can dry myself.”
His large hands settle on my shoulders, bend me forward, and then I feel a soft towel between my legs, rubbing over my lower lips and running all the way up to my bottom hole. He ignores my complaints and holds me firm while I squirm, taking control of me with a calm, easy practice that lets me know he’s done this many, many times before to many other girls. I wonder how many young women have climaxed on his fingers. And I wonder why I feel a pang of jealousy at imagining that.
When I am thoroughly dry, he lets me up. I am pink and clean and satisfied in a way I have never been before.
“Elias, can you take the towels, please.”
Elias appears and sweeps them away, leaving me alone and naked with Mattias.
What will he do to me now?
He sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches for my hand. I let him take it, not realizing what his plan is for me. He draws me close to the side of his thigh, gives me a gentle tug and I pitch forward over his lap with a surprised gasp.
“Now for that spanking I promised you,” he says in that firm, stern tone.
“What?”
“Girl, when you are sold, if you disobey a man the way you disobeyed me today, you will be punished far more thoroughly than this. Best you learn now over my knee.”
His hand comes down on my ass. Hard. And then it comes down again. And again. The sting is not unbearable, but it is more pain than I want to bear and the more his hand lands, the more the pain builds.
My father threatened to spank me a few times, but he never did. He doted on me. I have never been hurt by way of discipline before, and I don’t like it. The pain is seeping into my blood, making it run hot with energy I cannot control.
My hips are rising, even though they should be sliding away. It’s as if I am arching myself into the slaps, taking them eagerly even though they hurt. I don’t recognize myself in this moment. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know why I am enjoying what should be nothing but humiliating pain.
“You will obey my orders directly and swiftly,” Mattias lectures me. “You will not talk back, ask questions, or disobey. You will work your hardest to please me at every given moment.”
“Well, that’s not happening,” I mutter.
The spanking stops. Mattias lifts his voice. “Elias, I left that strap in the bathing chamber. Could you get it for me, please?”
“No!”
I try to get up, but he easily holds me down. Elias brings the strap to Mattias, and I feel the deceptively gentle touch of the leather over my heated cheeks as he lays it across my bottom, letting me feel the implement.
“I know you are wild,” he says. “And I know you are not used to doing as you are told. But now, you must. There is too much at stake for you not to. Too much possible pain coming to you if you do not become obedient.”
With that, he lifts the leather tongues away and brings them back down in a wicked slap that feels nothing like his hand did. His palm brought ache and sting. This strap delivers pure fire blazing across my skin.
“Ow! Ow, goddammit!”
He straps me sternly, keeping my body pressed down over his knees. This is embarrassing, and somewhat painful. Not as painful as the time I slipped down a gorge and impaled myself on a stick, but pretty painful.
And that is how things go for several long, painful minutes. He straps me. I cry and writhe and try to escape, but he knows how to hold a girl down and punish her, and try as I might to get away, I can’t.
The pain stops being even remotely pleasurable and turns to hurt. The terrible trauma of the day rushes in, the fright I suppressed when I suddenly found myself at the mercy of hundreds of men, and then the slight relief at being taken into custody.
Mattias’ whip reminds me of all of it, of what could have happened to me, and of what still will. Somebody will own me. Somebody will breed me like farmers used to breed cattle. I am a beast now, an animal for use. This man who holds the leather is tanning my hide and taking my humanity with it.
By the time he is done, I am sobbing. Not because it hurts, though it does. I am crying for all I have lost and all I will lose if I don’t manage to escape. I don’t want to be part of this world, where women are owned and bred. I want the wide spaces outside the walls. I want the home I grew up in, even though it is smaller than this fine bedroom I find myself trapped in now. I want my freedom.
As I cry inconsolably, Mattias eases me off his lap and into the bed. The sheets are smooth and cool on my naked body and hot bottom. He draws just one of them over me, enough to give me a little modesty, and he rubs my back as I snivel pathetically in the bed that is so much more comfortable than mine, but isn’t mine.
I should be running right now. I should be climbing the walls and testing the windows. I should be working on escape. I don’t, because I have no choice, because this compound is the most tightly guarded location in the state, because I have been taken so thoroughly captive, spanked so hard, made so miserable that I am too tired, too exhausted, and too confused to even begin to make an escape.