I was Felicia. Obedient slave.
Lash after lash came down on her back, her backside, the backs of her legs. I forgot to count. I was just whipping. And crying. And seeing a movie in my head playing through so many times where she’d screamed in my face, backhanded me, denied me food, made me do more exercise. Sometimes she’d make us exercise until we dropped.
She’d made me exercise until I’d puked bile on an empty stomach more than once. She’d grab nipples and twist them in punishment. She’d throw us in the basement shower stalls and throw high-pressured cold hoses on us, and then whipped our over-sensitized skin afterwards. Taunting us. Calling us names. Telling us that we were worthless.
She would straddle my face and make me give her oral while she pulled my hair painfully if she didn’t think I was good enough at it. She’d put a strap-on massive dildo on once while punishing me, raping my ass while choking me and laughing while she did it.
I heard a voice, “Stop,” the voice said. That voice was far away. It barely registered.
I didn’t stop. I watched her skin break under the whip. I wished I’d frozen her skin first, like she used to do to us to make the whipping hurt even more. Beautiful crimson appeared under each lash. I kept going.
&n
bsp; “Baby, enough.”
I kept whipping, crying, shouting expletives, seeing the beautiful crimson.
“You fucking!” Strike on the legs. “Fucking rapist bitch!” Strike across the lower back. “I fucking hate you. What you’ve done to us, you cunt.” Lash across the side of the face. “You fucking wretched piece of raping shit.” Another lash across the face.
“Oi!” Dare had my wrist and he grabbed the whip out of my hand. His arm was bright red. He’d taken a lash while stopping me.
I started struggling.
“Felicia!” That snapped me back where I was, to my reality. I felt my disobedience wash over me. Regret. I struggled against my master.
He took a lash in stopping me! My God. I stared at the red on his arm and then my eyes moved to Cleo.
Cleo was bloody and sobbing, her hands clenched into fists in the shackles that held her arms tight.
I was panting. My heart was racing.
I felt what I did to her penetrate. Her back and legs were a mangled mess. Half of her face was coated in blood. Her throat was bleeding.
I went weak in the knees. He supported me. I sank into him, put my forehead to his chest.
He tipped my chin up and looked me in the eye. I couldn’t read what was in his eyes.
He kept my tipped-up chin high and held it there, giving me a look that bolstered my strength. He gave me a little nod and released my chin. I kept it up high. I knew that’s what he wanted.
I moved toward her.
“You broken yet?” I hissed.
“Yes,” she choked.
I leaned over and spit on her face, “It’s definitely way better to be me than to be you. Don’t ever forget that.”
I then strutted out ahead of Dare. I was cool, calm, and collected on the outside. Inside, I was as close to a nervous breakdown as I could probably get without actually falling to my knees and having a complete and utter meltdown. I had to make it to bed. I had to close my eyes and go to sleep. I didn’t want to talk, I didn’t want to process. I needed to just walk. One foot. The other. The other again. Walk to my room. Get to my room.
Rafe stepped into the hall from another room down the hall and gave Dare a nod and then he moved past me toward where Cleo was. We were a few doors down when I saw two medical staff members moving down the hallway. They only just barely registered.
I walked and walked and finally found myself at the door. I reached for the knob.
“Babe, this way,” Dare urged and touched the small of my back and led me in the other direction. I’d been going to the slave quarters. It must’ve been out of habit, out of being on autopilot.
I wasn’t doing X to Y. I wasn’t even back at A to B. I didn’t know where the heck I was or what the heck I would do next.
He led back to our suite and once inside, I heard the door shut behind me. Dare was behind me.