Page 31 of Broken Hearts

He narrowed his eyes. “Not true. You cannot think like that.”

“I can think however the fuck I want, you control freak bastard.”

“Ah. Welcome back, old Celeste.” He smiled coldly at his own stupid little joke before stepping behind me again. My body drew taut, bracing for the impact. “You know what to do. You will count each stroke. If you stop, then we start again. In between each stroke, I want you to think about why you belong here.”

“Screw you,” I whispered. “I don’t belong here.”

“I was going to give you fifteen. But that’s another five.” Alex sighed sadly. “When are you going to learn, angel?”

“Never. I will never belong here. I will never belong to another person.”

“Five more on top of the rest. Are you done?”

I gritted my teeth again. Why did I have to keep talking back? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut and stop making things worse for myself?

It struck me seconds later. I wanted more strokes. I wanted more pain. I was addicted to the things Alex did to me. Addicted to the special pain he gave me. It was bad for me, but I craved it anyway, felt that I somehow deserved it. The part of me that had fallen for him and his sweet torture was obviously still kicking around strongly beneath the surface, begging to stay and take more.

Alex ran the cold surface of the paddle over my ass again. “I’ll take your silence as a yes. Are you ready?”

I nodded. “Yes. Please punish me, sir. I need it,” I murmured. I didn’t mean it. I only said it because I knew it was exactly what he wanted to hear. Maybe he’d go easier on me, not paddle me so hard. Even though that warped, perverse part of me wanted pain, I didn’t want to be terribly injured. I didn’t want to be covered in massive purple bruises like Evangeline and forced to pose for sick photos to go into Alex’s twisted collection box.

“That’s right,” he said softly yet firmly. “You do need it. You need to realize I haven’t lied.”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered. Sure.

“You need to realize I’m protecting you and keeping you safe. The rules exist to keep you safe.”

“Yes, sir.” You’re full of shit.

“Good girl.”

The first hit came down, and I shrieked as fire bolted across my skin. “One!”

It hurt worse than the whips and crops he’d used in the past, the stinging sensation spread widely over every nerve ending on my ass cheeks. He slapped me again, hard, the sound echoing loudly in the playroom. “Two….” Slap. “Oh… three!”

I hated how much I loved the pain. But god, I did love it….

I didn’t like feeling so powerless and out of control, but at the same time, I wanted it, just like I wanted every other punishment I ever got. I despised that perverse part of me now; despised it with every fiber of my being. That boy from my tenth grade class was right all along—I must be a freak.

Tears blurred my vision as Alex rained down five more slaps of the wooden paddle, then another five. I thought I could take it all, but with each stroke, the burning, stinging pain worsened, and my resolve weakened.

By the time I choked out the word ‘eighteen’ it was dwindling just above zero, and when I finally raggedly whispered ‘twenty-five’, all remnants of it were gone. I was limp, listless, my determination finally broken.

Alex was right. I did belong here, not because I wanted it, but because he wanted it. He picked me. He controlled my every movement. He owned me. As long as he wanted to keep operating under this wild, deluded fantasy that I was his girl to protect, I would remain trapped here as his captive. His possession.

I let out a broken sob as the realization finally hit me. I was never getting out of here. Ever. I’d tried and failed to escape multiple times, and if I kept going, he would finally grow tired of my efforts. Even if I was well-behaved and stopped trying to escape, all I was doing was staving off the near certainty that one day, he would probably grow tired of me anyway, his little toy. One day, I would probably be too broken to play with, just like the girl who came before me.

One day, he would probably kill me….

---