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Chapter Two
Luke was taken back to his cell by two regular guards. His wrists were shackled behind him and drawn up with a chain behind him to keep him bent over. His legs were forced apart, and leather cuffs around his ankles kept the spreader bar in place.
One of the guards fondled his rear, and to his shame, his half-hard cock twitched.
The cell door clanged shut when they stepped out, and he was left there. Luke wondered if his roommate had already been released, not that he truly cared. His roommate was a dick, and he used to beat his wife. That’s why she’d fled, and the roommate had even bragged about “putting her in her place.”
Luke had only lived with him as a way to split the rent and keep a roof over his head. He was too poor to be picky, but he had decided something. If and when he left, that man was going to get a good taste of his own medicine. Luke was going to put him in his place for being such a foul piece of shit.
That probably wasn't happening any time too soon now that he was here.
His arms weren’t drawn up too much, but he hoped he wasn’t left like this for ages. The strapped position could get quite uncomfortable. There was nothing to look at except for a cot, the wheel on the wall for the chain, the bars to his left, a hole in one corner that a privy, the water bucket by the flap for meals, and the dreary hall. The cell across from him was empty, but he’d seen a guy in one toward the far end when he'd been brought through.
He had been collapsed on his bed with a shredded back, and he’d probably murdered or raped someone if he’d been whipped like that. Or maybe Jagger had been lying and liked his fun to equal pure torture for the other.
Luke tensed for a moment when he saw Jagger come to the cell door after a good thirty minutes with his whip in one hand. He unlocked the door and slid it open to step in.
“The same rule applies,” he said. “If you forget to call me Sir, that’s extra lashes.”
Jagger came around, and Luke strained his head toward his crotch. “Can I suck you off, Sir? I’ll do anything you want if you’re not too harsh with the whip and don't leave me like this all night. I know I stole, but I can be a good boy too. I promise, Sir.”
“You saw the other guy?”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
"That wasn't me, and he’s a rapist." Jagger grabbed his chin to lift it. “Just behave, and I won't have a reason to put stripes on your ass.”
Luke swallowed. “I'll behave, Sir.”
“I’ve heard that a couple of times.” Jagger smirked as he rubbed his thumb across Luke’s chin. “Maybe your skills will come in handy, but not now. I wasn't lying earlier, and I don't like shredding people with a whip or too much suffering. You don't have to fear that from me.”
Then why work here? Luke hadn’t asked for a job here because he had no interest in harming or racking anyone. Even if a person was a murderer who killed ten fairies, he thought it was better to simply hang them and be done with it.
“You’ll answer my questions, and if you try to get around something or I think you’re lying, you’ll receive lashes.” Jagger let the whip unfurl. “This doesn’t count toward your sentencing which the Earl will decide."
Fuck. The idea that one set of lashings might be public made Luke so ashamed, his legs started shaking as he looked down. “Can’t it be done in the prison, Sir?”
“You committed a crime,” said Jagger. “Public humiliation might be a part of your sentence for the amount that you stole if he decides it. He might not, and it depends on his mood and if you're not sentenced to the mines. At least you’re not branded in public.” He walked around behind Luke. “Now, tell me why you stole.”
Luke tried to shift his wrist in the shackles. “I needed money, Sir.” After a long pause, the whip cracked across his bare ass. “But I did! I’m not lying, Sir.”
“I’m sure you needed the money. I want a bit more of an answer than that.”
The lash hadn’t been too hard, but Luke knew he better not test Jagger’s patience. “When I left the whorehouse, a woman was kicked out too, Sir. They weren’t doing well, so they had to cut back, and Zela was an obvious choice because she was sick. I was just unlucky. We decided we’d stick together as friends for a bit to help each other out with rent.”
“Your roommate’s a man.”
“Yes, now, Sir,” said Luke. “This was last year. Zela kept getting sicker, and the physician said she had wasting disease in her lungs. He said it had likely spread, and there was nothing he could do. He tried some medicines and herbs, but…”
“I'm guessing it didn't work.”
“It didn't, Sir. We barely had any money, so the physician said to pay him back later. She became bedridden, and I couldn’t simply leave her. Neither of us have anyone, so I took care of everything. Luckily, I found work when my savings ran out, and I got herbs to help Zela sleep and laudanum later when the pain was too much. The physician brought that stuff over, and I knew the bill was racking up because I didn't have enough to pay upfront for the visits and everything…she finally died one night while on laudanum. The physician didn’t ask me to pay the rest I owed, but I wanted to, Sir."
“Why try to pay him when you were barely scraping by?” asked Jagger.
“Because he at least tried even when he knew there was nothing that would cure her, Sir. He did his best to make her as comfortable as possible too. He knew I was dirt poor, and he didn’t hound me for coin like some might. I wanted to pay him back because I noticed the satchel he carried was worn out, and his clothes were patched and old. I think he’s been letting a lot of poor people go without paying, and he’s not making that much, Sir.”
Jagger was silent for a moment as he seemed to absorb that. “Why the general shop?”
