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I’d learned to hate, even though I hadn’t faced it until years later.
The fight was almost knocked out of me and as Daniel eased me over the edge of the pool table, all I could concentrate on was the soft feel of the red felt and how shiny the balls were in the wooden triangle holding them in place at the other end of the table. I noticed the pool sticks on the wall, shuddering as my mind was tormented by the thought of the three men using one or more as an implement of discipline.
I was naked and cold, very much alone in a den full of lions.
Or vipers.
“What are you doing?” My God, I hated the wretched sound of my small voice, the pitiful attempt at begging for mercy doing nothing but tormenting me even more.
Brogan leaned over, his larger-than-life face looming in front of mine. There was a new sparkle in his eyes, the almost stupid grin on his face boyish. But nothing about the man was innocent in any regard. He was like the terminator, prepared to bring down another enemy. I hated the analogy I’d made but that was all I could think of.
“You’re being spanked like the naughty vixen you are. You should have known better than to try and seduce, let alone kill three powerful men. It’s time for you to learn your lesson.”
If I’d thought Alexander was running the show before, I was dead wrong. This wasn’t an instance where I could plead innocence. There was no such thing about my actions. I pressed my face against the cool felt, staring out the oversized door toward the trees hiding the beautiful ocean. I’d foregone sleep and time spent with friends, losing my job in the process of developing my useless plan.
I’d been so consumed with needing revenge that I’d lost sight of me. Now I was paying the price.
I wasn’t certain what to expect but as Brogan started to unfasten his belt, every muscle in my body spasmed. I was sick inside, my right leg twitching uncontrollably. Then I squeezed my eyes shut, still unable to shove the vision aside even as hard as I tried. I certainly had no way of preparing myself for the whooshing sound of something slicing through the air or the way my backside burned as soon as a strap was struck against my skin.
Gasping, I jerked up, pursing my lips closed as tears stung my eyes. My mind suddenly went blank, a string of incoherent words tumbling somewhere in the far reaches, yet nothing seemed familiar. I was given no time to recover, another strike smacking me in the same place, the rounded sit spot of my buttocks. Pain tore through me, capturing the last scattered breath I issued.
I was woozy at this point, sliding my arms over my head and scratching the pristine material, ugly thoughts of ripping it to shreds allowing me to control a portion of my breath.
When I felt a light caress, fingers delicately brushing across my skin, I jerked up, slamming my palms against the table. “Leave me alone.”
My cry seemed foreign, another woman in another time shouting off the demand as if anticipating respect. All I got in return was a harsh laugh and I wasn’t certain who’d issued it.
The harsh punishment continued, two more strikes becoming four. When I shifted toward the edge of the table, I was roughly jerked back to the center.
“Stay in position, little minx. We don’t want to start over, now do we?”
Daniel. He’d been the one to deliver the first savage cracks of leather. I hated him the most. He was supposed to be a savior. Instead, he’d turned into just another version of a monster hiding under the bed, preparing to strike when necessary. For a few seconds, I envisioned him dragging me into the same horrible darkness that had clouded my mind for months. I could imagine that’s what Garrison had felt just before he’d taken his last breath.
I hated crying. I’d resolved never to shed another tear long before, but I couldn’t manage to stop the madness from forming or the despair from launching me into a real anxiety attack.
You can get through this. There’s no other way.
My inner voice wasn’t comforting, but after taking several deep breaths, I managed to concentrate on the sound of the crashing waves through the open doors. I’d only been to the beach once in my life, the experience tumultuous more than relaxing. It was so beautiful here, but the posh environment was nothing but a front.
I remained aware that Brogan had taken over, standing behind me like some prince of death before issuing the first three cracks of his belt. Light brown in color, well worn. I imagined it soft and supple. I wondered if it had been the belt worn the day he’d been arrested. The crazy thought gave me some level of comfort. The brutal smack he gave me was like fire boring into every tendon and muscle.
There was no stopping the sound of anger and anguish from escaping my throat. I was lost in a sea of self-pity, but even worse, I felt the wetness increasing between my thighs, threatening to give away the fact I was attracted to all three of them. I couldn’t hate myself any more than I did right now.
I finally found a way to lose myself in something other than what was happening, allowing the music of the ocean to dull my senses. Only when I noticed Brogan was already sliding his belt back through his loops did I come back down to Earth, bracing for whatever horrors Alexander was preparing to do to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he was walking around the table. I lifted my head, studying him. As I’d seen with the other men, his expression was carnal in nature, the sharpness of his eyes and the way his upper lip curled forcing another round of shivers into me. I fisted my hands, refusing to give in to my fears, looking away from him on purpose. All three had surprised me during this unseemly adventure, but when Alexander gathered me into his arms, carrying me like a lover would, prepared to cross a threshold, I was thrown into an entirely different and confusing realm.
He didn’t seem to have any urgency in his step, but as he headed toward the strange apparatus, I bristled, and he noticed the change in my facial expression.
“This is a very special tool, sweet Dahlia. It can be used for the most intense pleasure you’ve ever experienced or the king of anguish that will linger with you for some time to come. I don’t want to find a reason to use it. I don’t believe you will either. However, you will need to learn that disobeying us will make the decision a necessity. Do you understand? You should have told us why you were dead set on ending our lives.”
There was no coldness in his reference to his sadistic desires, nor even an eagerness to force the moment of using it on me to happen. Instead, I sensed a test of some kind, an intention to keep me on edge as the thought of imprisonment suffocated me.
I nodded, unable to find any words to make this all go away. Would it matter if I told them the truth? Would they care about what had happened? I hadn’t thought about the possibility that I wouldn’t be successful, leading to something of this nature. Suddenly, I wasn’t certain what to do at all.
“Then tell us what we want to know. Let’s start with your real name.” His tone grew more insistent.
There was no real reason not to tell them.
