Page 51 of The Sound of Him

“They get taught a lesson.”

The whip that comes down on my back steals the breath from my already aching lungs. I have enough time to think- please, no, not a whip, I hate the whip, anything but-and then it lands again.

Master Mica is very good at being an unapologetic, twisted sadist. He has us all pegged. He knows how to calm us. Heknows how to terrify us. He knows our limits. He knows our breaking points.

I forget a rule, too hurt and panicked to remember. I accidentally look at him.

I see it in his eyes, then. In his smile.

I see the moment he decides he is going to break me.

Someone screams. They’re screaming and screaming.

It’s me.

The whipping doesn't stop until my screams do.

My back is one hot, wet slab of pain that the rest of my body wishes it could crawl away from. Every inhale is torture. My throat is raw and itching, my tongue feeling like it’s doubled in size, like it must be close to blocking off my airway.

Master Mica palms my face with one big hand, pulling me back to my knees from where I had ended up crumpled on the floor at some point during the lashings. He forces me to look at him, fingers and thumb digging into my cheeks.

I taste blood as my own teeth cut me open on the inside.

There are imaginary flames licking along my back.

Something is dripping down my skin.

The room is quiet - so quiet.

Master Mica blurs and doubles and spins, even as he sits perfectly still.

“Allergic, huh?” he murmurs, and there's something so playful in it. Like he just thought of a new game he can’t wait to play. Master Mica loves his games. “I wonder, would it feel good to have my cock in your throat while it swells? I bet it would. Should we see?”

“He'd have reacted by now,” one of the other men says. “He didn't get enough of the allergen.”

Master Mica grins, showing me all of his teeth.

“Good thing we have plenty more. Grab that box for me.”

“No!” someone shouts. Master Mica drops my face, turning to glare at whoever just spoke. My head bobs on my neck, but I manage to look too. It takes a few blinks for everything to stop spinning. By the time reality solidifies, Bryce is saying, “-kill him. Please. Please, don’t. I - I can close my throat for you. You can choke me. Okay? With your hand. Just collapse the fucking thing. I don’t care. Please. Not him. He’s good. He’s-”

“Someone shut that cumrag up,” Master Mica growls.

There’s one last, “Please!” before a choked-off sound and men laughing.

I don’t dare look over at Bryce. I don’t move.

I… breathe. Sort of. It’s not getting any better, but it’s not getting worse either.

Master Mica smiles at me, all teeth. “Chew good for me. Wouldn’t want you to choke, sweetheart.”

He hooks a finger beneath my bottom teeth and yanks my jaw down. A handful of the candies are shoved in, each a chocolate-covered ball that I know hides a thick glob of peanut butter beneath.

My body heaves halfway through, like it’s begging me to get rid of the candies, to get rid of anything I’ve swallowed while I was at it. He says something about swallowing anything that comes back up. About licking it up off the floor.

“You’re taking too long.” He presses his hand over my mouth and nose, blocking the little bits of airway I had left and forcing me to hurry, to chew, and chew, and chew. “You can breathe once you’ve swallowed it all,” he tells me with a laugh.

But by the time I’ve finished, I can’t.