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He did it again, only this time it came around to my stomach and I caught a glimpse of it.
A whip.
But it wasn’t just any kind of whip, it had metal divots attached to it and every time he would hit me, they’d dig into my skin.
“Three.”
He whipped me over and over again, each time in three successions, calling out the numbers as he went.
I listened intently to his counting, needing to try and focus on anything but the lashings that he was giving me.
My back was burning and I could feel the blood pouring from the cuts. The more he whipped, catching the already open cuts, the more I screamed.
My throat was raw from screaming so loud but he didn’t let up, he kept going and I gave in on begging him to stop. He wasn’t going to stop, he was in a world of his own and I was starting to detach myself. Sending my mind to a safe place. Somewhere that this wasn’t happening.
I hung my head, watching the cuts on my stomach ooze with blood, mesmerized in the way it dripped onto the floor.
“Twenty-eight.” Whip. “Twenty-nine.” Whip “Thirty!” Whip.
Each hit became harder until he stopped at thirty, the sound of his zipper opening had me on high alert. My mind came back fleetingly and I struggled against the restraints. The muscles in my back moving and ripping the cuts apart the more I struggled.
He moaned, the sound so raw and guttural that I stopped, keeping still and trying to work out what he was doing. I tried to struggle again when he went silent but I’d lost all of my energy.
I was dangling, barely holding on, when I felt something warm hit my back, the liquid seeping into the cuts and making then sting so much more.
“You’re mine now, little butterfly,” he whispered in my ear and planted a soft kiss on my neck. I shivered, hating the feel of it but also glad that it was something gentler, softer.
Bang, bang.
“What the-” I turned my head at the sound of something banging on the door. I dared to hope that someone was about to get me out of here but my hope was short lived as I met black eyes and shivered at the look he gave me.
The door started to split but still my eyes didn’t move from him.
“Doesn’t matter where you go, little butterfly, you’ll always be mine.”
I gasped as the door came down fully and two men walked in, dressed in combat gear.
One went straight to black eyes, who was still watching me, and hit him over the head.
He went down like a ton of bricks.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Kay had got help.
I lifted my eyes to the other man who came towards me, his brown eyes captured me. He looked down at me briefly, at all the cuts, before calling for someone.
I hung there, waiting, watching, barely holding on.
Another guy walked in, his eyes going wide at what he saw.
“Holy fuck,” he gasped, his eyes not moving from where he had whipped me.
“Get him the fuck out of here, Daley,” brown eyes said, pulling on the chain and letting my feet touch the floor fully.
My knees gave way but he ran over to catch me. “Ow!” I squealed as his hands landed on my open wounds.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, wrapping a blanket around me and untying my hands.
His smell invaded my senses and the first thing that came to mind was, ‘I’m free’.
