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He opens his eyes.
A disobedient slave is in front of him.
“Ass in the air,” he orders, his voice entirely Nathan Roarke’s and no one else’s. “Present yourself for punishment, slave.”
The slave squirms, his face twisting in pain. “Sir, I have to-”
“Shut!” Nathan swings the heavy wooden paddle, catching both ass cheeks at once. “Up!” He hits the spot again.
The slave starts crying.
He hits the slave again.
The slave’s eyes flutter closed in resignation before he presses his face against the bed and raises his ass higher for further abuse. Nathan swings the paddle again. The sounds that fall from the slave’s lips are bordering on sobs.
Nathan’s men laugh.
Nathan’s chest vibrates as he swings the paddle again.
He’s laughing, too.
He hadn’t noticed.
He hits the slave again and again, the intensity rising in layers as Nathan works him over. He covers the slave in red blotches from his thighs to his ass until he’s sobbing and writhing and screaming,he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, please, he’s so so sorry!
“Areyou sorry?” Nathan asks conversationally. His men snort and laugh. They tell Nathan they don’t think the slave is sorry at all. Nathan agrees. “I feel like you’re not sorry. Not yet.”
The slave is humping the sheets.
Nathan sneers. “Look at this fucking slut.” He steps forward, grabbing the slave’s hips and forcing him to grind even harder against the silky sheets. His men laugh. He laughs.
The slave sobs.
“Sir, please!” the slave begs, squirming and fighting Nathan’s hold. “Too much. I have to – I have to go-”
“Christ,” Nathan growls, smacking both his hands against the boy’s abused ass before stepping away to grab the paddle again. “Shut the hell up before this gets worse for you, slave!”
Nathan catches the eye of Benny, his second-hand man. He grins at Benny. His best friend looks away from him, disgust twisting his expression, his eyebrows pulling in. Something pings in the back of Nathan’s mind. A voice that feels strangely familiar. Words that make him ache.You’re mine now. All mine. And I’m going to take care of you, I promise.
The voice is coming from the door in his mind. Nathan conjures a version of Benny in his mind and slams him into the metal door until he crumples to the floor, knocked out cold.
The voice stops.
Nathan doesn’t lift his gaze from the slave, wanting to avoid seeing any other version of Benny that may be lurking nearby.
“I’m sorry, sir! Please!” The slave thrashes his head in a panic as Nathan hits him harder. “Please, please, please!”
“Tell me the rule you broke,” Nathan orders in a low voice as he trades his paddle for the cane.
“Don’t l – leave bed with – without permission,” the slave gasps. Then, “Sir!”
“What rule was that? What number?”
“F-four, sir?”
“Are you asking?” Nathan asks, tapping the cane like a threat against the boy’s bright red ass. “Or are you telling?”
The slave sniffles. “T-telling, sir.”
