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“Yes, Sir.” A barely audible whisper, nevertheless it’s a step in the right direction. Soon, it’ll come naturally. Like Lik.
I let go of her and she keeps her head up. I give her ass cheeks gentle taps with the crop. And then I strike.
“One,” she gasps, shifting her hips and balancing on the ball of her feet.
“Be still, Rose. I won’t say it again.”
“Yes, Sir,” she answers. It falls from her lips as her head falls back down.
I wait for her to settle again, and I strike her.
“Two.” I see the instinct to move and the moment she stops herself.
“Good girl. Very good.” She winces when I run a hand against the redness of her cheeks. She has welts from the previous flogger, and now red circles are starting to show. Her skin is hot, and goosebumps rise when I take my hand away. I give her a few more strikes with less strength.
“Three, four, five…” she counts, and I sense when she relaxes entirely. Slowly I watch her fall into subspace. Her muscles slack until she’s completely hanging from the chains.
My strikes slow down yet I harden them, putting more strength into them. She keeps counting.
“Six, Sev-aah…seven, Ei-eight …” Her ass comes to meet the crop now, reaching for the high. I let it go just because she’s so into it.
“Are those cigarette burns on your shoulder, Rose?”
“Yes, Sir.” I don’t even think she realizes she answered. I keep striking. “Nine…”
Slowing down my pace, I talk to her while her head hangs and minor bruises start to form.
“Who?”
I strike.
“Ten. Aleksei and his men.” She takes a deep satisfying breath, now comfortable with the rhythm of being hit by the crop. I strike her again. “Eleven.” The numbers come out automatically. So do the answers. She’s lost in her own relaxing, safe space and the words spill from her lips.
“It felt like hours,” she tells me. I wait, not touching her while she opens herself up to me. “Three, maybe four of them. I don’t know the exact number. I couldn’t see all of them. Maybe some of them went twice. That’s why I’m not sure.”
She pauses, shifting as if waiting for another hit from the crop. I don’t want to break her perfect rhythm, so I hit, desperately trying to hold back the strength that comes with the anger rising from hearing what happened to her.
Striking her helps me. Dominating is just as powerful as submitting. You need to take control of yourself before taking control of someone else. You must get in a safe space inside your own head. When one has had control taken away from them in their lives, it’s therapeutic to be able to hold it back. Endorphins flood my brain when I manage to control myself and hit her the same way I was previously, when I reel back the anger.
“Twelve.” Another deep breath. I rub her ass cheeks, making sure the blood still flows. Her breathing is even despite the rush from the hits. “I passed out. Should hav’been a good thing 'cause at least I wouldn’t feel anything.” Her voice is sluggish, the rasp drawling as she talks.
My throat tightens, but I keep giving her what she needs. I strike.
“Thirteen. They woke me up with a cigarette against my skin. Every time I passed out, that’s how they brought me back. Just to make sure I’d feel it all.”
Three times. She passed out three times. And three times, they burnt her with a cigarette to bring her back to consciousness.
I want to scream. I want to die and come back to life just to kill the fuckers, since I would never rest in peace knowing they still breathe.
I strike. I feel myself going harder, even as I see how well she takes it. She screams when I get to twenty. Panting and writhing. She’s lost count, but I don’t say anything. She’s given me more than I could have hoped for.
“Viktor saved me,” she admits out of nowhere. It forces me away, making me take a step back. There is something beautiful in her voice when she pronounces his name. Jealousy mixes with fury, along with a refusal to understand.
“The fourth time I passed out, I woke up in a bed, being taken care of by their nurse.”
She pauses to breathe, her lungs drawing in air and pushing it back out at a rhythm I can’t keep up with.
“Aleksei wanted to keep me for himself. He said he didn’t want to sell me because he wanted to be there and watch me suffer every day. Viktor forbade him to.”
