Page 110 of For I Have Sinned

“What is that?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the object.

Alex sighs, and I hear him come up beside me. “It’s called a discipline whip.”

I reach into the chest, my hand wrapping around the handle of the object sitting inside, and bring it out. “What is it used for?”

“It’s in the name,” he tells me, as I inspect the seven braided ropes that come off the handle. “When I do something or think about anything unholy, I use it to discipline myself.”

My curious eyes meet his. “How?”

Just by seeing his body language shift, I know he doesn’t want to tell me, but he takes the whip from me and begins to speak. “I remove my shirt, kneel before my bed, and as I grip the handle, I throw the cords over my shoulder.”

The image of him using this to inflict pain on himself has my body recoiling in invisible pain. “Why would you do that?”

“To punish myself for the thoughts I have and acts I commit that are not aligned with the priesthood.”

“That is insane,” I mutter in shock. “You’re hurting yourself.”

“It’s not that bad.” He tries his best to lie, but I see past it.

“Let me see,” I demand.

“What?”

“I want to see the wounds you give yourself,” I state, pushing myself off the floor to stand.

He stares at me for a moment, his breathing quickening as he gives. His hands meet the hem of his shirt, and he tugs it up and over his head. With clenched teeth, he twists his whole body to show me his back. A small gasp leaves me as I see the scars plastered on his skin.

Not bad, my ass.

They were bad enough at one point that they left numerous scars. My fingertip brushes the welts carefully, causing his body to flinch on reflex, and his head jolts to the side, his eyes trying to see what I am doing.

Observing his reaction to my fingers ghosting over his skin, I drop my stare and lean forward, pressing my lips to each one of the scars. His body finally relaxes as I place a mouth on the final one, lightly kissing the raised mark.

“Alex, you can’t do this to yourself anymore.” The plea leaves me with a wobbly voice.

I hate knowing that he was hurting himself like this and that he thought it was what he needed to do to pay for his sins.

“I won’t.” He turns to face me. “I promise.”

“When was the last time you did it?”

He inhales a deep breath through his nose and then smirks. “That night I brought you dinner, and you said you had been exercising.”

My cheeks flush at the memory.

Alex moves into my space, dropping the discipline into the chest at the end of his bed. “But you weren’t exercising, were you, Celine?”

I look at him through my lashes as he closes the distance between us. “You tell me, Alex. You used to stand outside my room and listen to me.”

“You were touching yourself.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “To the thought of me.”

“And how do you know I was thinking about you?” I play along even though we’ve had this discussion before.

His hands find the fabric of my nightgown, and he slowly pulls it up my body. The way the material ghosts across my skin gives me chills, and I shiver at the sudden sensation.

“Because you said my name while your fingers were inside you,” he tells me, as the hem of the dress meets my waist. “And my god, Celine, you moaning my name was the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.”

I lick my lips. “Could have been a different guy named Alex.”