Page 16 of The Monster I Am

And also that he should do something to clean it. But not look like he’d been trying to snoop.

So he settled on doing a deep cleaning of the bathroom and limited himself to tidying the bedroom and making the bed.

Once that was completed, it still didn’t constitute an emergency to ask what he should do next, so he ended up sitting on the end of the bed in the room — his room? — and waiting until Rhys came out of his office and called out for him.

“Yes, sir,” Jared called, jumping up from the bed and hurrying to his owner when his name was called.

“In my room,” Rhys directed, heading in that direction.

In my room.

Jared’s stomach clenched at the order and his heart kicked up a notch. He’d worked hard to avoid thinking about any of that while he worked on cleaning the house. Rhys owned him now, of course the supe was going to fuck him. But what else was the supe going to do?

Floggers, whips, cane.

He’d seen those used at the parties. He knew all too well what they were capable of. They hadn’t been used on him at the first party, the one before Rhys. Because he’d been new. Because he’d been fresh and the slaver had wanted to get some use out of him before they started damaging him.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Rhys had⁠—

Tortured him. Cut him.

But it had felt⁠—

That didn’t make it better.

Jared followed with trepidation, lingering in the doorway when Rhys went to the chest at the end of the bed. Jared had wiped down the top of the dusty box, but he hadn’t looked inside of it. That might’ve been seen as snooping, and he’d decided it would be worse to be punished for snooping than it would be for not cleaning inside the chest.

Rhys ordered Jared, “Lean over the bed, ass in the air.”

His breath caught when Rhys lifted a flogger out of the chest, and he shuddered. That was going to hurt. That was going to tear him to shreds even more than the knife had.

“Yes, sir,” Jared whispered hoarsely, going to the side of the bed and bending over it like he’d been ordered to. He closed his wounded hand and tightened it, feeling the pain from the belting bite into his skin and hoped it would help him be ready for the pain when the thick tails of the flogger tore his skin.

He was tense with anxious anticipation when he heard Rhys move away, his heart hammering in his eardrums.

He flinched at the whisper of the flogger’s tails flying through the air⁠—

“Oh.” The exhale was a surprised puff of sound at the fact that the blow hadn’t hurt. He’d felt its impact, and for a moment that felt like eternity, he wondered if the pain was delayed or that something had happened that he couldn’t understand.

But it didn’t hurt.

He twitched in surprise, not daring to question it.

The next blows fell harder, and those started to hurt. Not in a way that hurt, not like it was cutting his skin to ribbons the way he’d seen a flogger do at the party, but in a way that made Jared’s cock twitch with decided interest.

After a few strokes, his breaths of air had the edge of a moan in them as the pleasure rippled through him. He bit his lip to try to keep the sounds in, even as he started to squirm under the weight of the throws as they landed.

A particularly heavy one had him gasping and arching into the sensation, a cry of mixed pleasure and pain bursting from his throat and his cock ached. If he wasn’t careful, he’d come right on the side of the bed.

The strokes continued to build, and more sounds burst out of him that he couldn’t hold back.

“Let me hear you,” Rhys demanded, his voice rough as he went even harder.

Another hard blow landed directly over where a previous one was fresh and Jared’s choked cry broke on a sob. He hadn’t realized that he’d started crying, the pain and pleasure rolling through him as the relentless blows pushed him deeper.

His hands clenched on the bedding as the next one blow pulled a scream from his lips.