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And this man is about to attempt what Big Tammy and the other girls tried to do for years.
“Then let me see your face.” I stand firm. “If you’re going to break me, don’t I have the right to see who’s doing it?”
“I can’t let you see my face.”
“Why?”
He takes a step forward. “There are rules?—”
I clench my hands into fists. “Fuck the rules. Fuck everything about this.”
Strength—I’m not sure where it’s coming from—surges through me like an electric current. If he’s a thunder clap, I’ll be lightning.
“You’re right. I’m not broken. I’ve been through worse than you can do to me.”
“Don’t be so sure.” He grabs me and throws me face down on the bed.
A moment later?—
“Ow!” Sharp pain lances through me as something comes down on my ass.
He’s whipping me. Whipping me with… Is it a belt? I’m not sure. Only that it’s not his hand.
But I’ve been beaten before. I may cry out at the pain, but if he thinks?—
“Auugghh!” This time on my back, and then my shoulders. The pain spears through me as if a thousand blades are slicing into me.
I wince, grimace, brace myself for the next one.
Again a sharp pain cuts through me. But this time I don’t cry out. I absorb the shock of the initial snap of the whip and then let is dissipate from my body.
It’s going to take more than a few lashes to break me.
Another snap comes down, this one less powerful than the first couple. Or maybe I’m already becoming numb to it. Either way, I take advantage of the moment and snap up to my feet, facing the masked man.
I say nothing, but through my eyes I dare him to hit me one more time.
Our gazes lock. His blue eyes are fixated on me, first with blind rage, but then they soften a touch. He loosens his grip and something—his belt, that’s what he was using to whip me—falls to the floor with a weak thud.
He swallows, looking me up and down, and then he turns me around, apparently to look at the damage he caused. He takes in a sharp shallow breath. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”
He turns me back to face him, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a tube of what appears to be lotion. He takes a few steps toward me.
I put my hands out in front of me. “Don’t come any closer.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore. This isn’t who I am. Please let me help you.”
I shouldn’t trust this man. A moment ago he was hitting me with the wrong end of his belt. He’s been holding me captive for several days, maybe even weeks at this point.
But those eyes. There’s something in those eyes.
He truly hates what he’s done to me.
So I yield. I sit down on the bed, my back to him.
A moment later, something cold hits one of my wounds, and the pain lessens. It must be some kind of topical anesthetic. At first, I keep my body stiff, but as the adrenaline begins to wane, I slowly relax my muscles, and before I know it, I’m snuggled in his arms on his lap.
“Forgive me,” he whispers in my ear.
