Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
A familiar whizz through the air and I was screaming before I felt the lash of a whip across the backs of my thighs. Then it came down again across the same spot, and then higher, and higher still, setting my back on fire where Marcos’ lashes had only recently begun to fade.
“Stop, please,” I cried.
The next lash contained twice the fire of the last one. I could feel the sticky, wet heat there, and knew it had dug in deep. The next was gentler, controlled.
“Please, stop this.”
The whip blazed a wet, hot trail across my lower back, making my knees give out. He held me there, suspended between his grasp on my arm and the stone wall that was biting into my flesh.
He was training me. Every time I begged, the whip came down harder than when I didn’t. I squeezed my lips shut. Another controlled lash and I did my damnedest to keep my mouth closed. Three more, each administered with a rigid control.
He released my arm, and I crumpled to the ground. I didn’t dare try to get up, so I laid there as tears streamed down and puddled on the floor. I could feel the warm trickle of drops of blood as my wounds cried, too.
“Rule number one: A slave will not speak unless spoken to,” he spoke for the first time, in a deep, gravelly voice. “There will be consequences every time a rule is broken. Rule number two: A slave will address her superiors appropriately. You will address me as ‘sir’. Do you understand?”
This couldn’t be happening. I was safe. I was free. Derek had taken me away from this life.
He yanked me up onto my knees but then backhanded me across the cheek and sent me sprawling back to the floor a second later.
“Do you understand me?” he growled, reaching for his whip.
“Y-yes, sir,” I stuttered around sobs.
“Good. Follow me, slave,” he instructed and then stepped out of my cell.
I got my hands and knees beneath me and pushed up. I didn’t bother standing up. I knew that wasn’t what he wanted. No doubt it would only result in another whipping. I crawled to the door, choking on tears, feeling weaker than I’d ever been. A bit of pain, and I was already jumping to be his obedient slave? This man wasn’t like Derek though. His eyes were as cold and lifeless as Marcos’ had been. No compassion. Only ruthlessness. There would be no softening him.
Oh god, Derek, where was he? If he was here, he’d never let this monster hurt me. He wasn’t here though, so I had no choice but to crawl across the jagged stone floor, following behind a man who would like to break me—physically or emotionally, I don’t think it mattered to him which one.
It must have been fifteen yards, maybe twenty, before he came to a stop at the end of the long hall. If I looked behind me, I’d no doubt find a trail of blood left by my battered knees.
I didn’t look behind me.
“Stand up.”
I did, covering my body as best as I could with my arms.
He pointed to an alcove on the right and motioned for me to enter.
A gas chamber?—it’s the first thought that popped into my head. Maybe he was going to put an end to my misery. My heart ached thinking I’d never see Derek again. I would never know if he was even alive, but I had to believe he was. So, with wobbly legs, I stepped into the alcove. Did this make me brave or a coward?
But there was no door to seal me in. Just more stone walls in a room the size of the cell I’d just left, with a pair of shackles high up on the wall. I back-stepped when I saw them, but he was already behind me and I crashed into the hard wall of his chest. Before I could push away he grabbed my wrists and slammed me back against the wall. The fresh lashes on my back screamed in reawakened agony.
I struggled, but it was futile. My wrists were shackled high above my head within seconds, pulling me up so that my heels hovered just above the floor. His hard body pressed against me, but it evoked none of the things Derek’s had.
I opened my mouth to beg and plead, but slammed it shut, jarring my teeth. He would only punish me for speaking. My heart thudded a rapid, staccato beat in my chest and I couldn’t seem to gulp enough air into my lungs. If I didn’t calm down, I was going to pass out.
Oh god, yes. Yes, I would pass out. I let my lungs work faster as the edges of my vision grew fuzzy and dark.
“If you pass out, slave, you won’t like what I do to revive you.”