Page 2 of Look What You Made Me Do

I swallow, and squeeze my eyes shut, every muscle in my body tensing up in anticipation of the first blow. It comes without warning—a solid thud that pushes my entire body forward. Then a sharp sting, followed by intense heat, blooms across both my ass cheeks. My eyes water, but I manage to swallow back the whimper that bubbles up in my throat.

The person brings the paddle down two more times and by the end of it, silent tears are streaming down my face. My backside hurts so bad, I wonder if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

Relief washes over me when, from the corner of my eye, I see the guy with the paddle rejoin the circle. Thank God. I don’t know how much more of that paddle I could take.

Yetanotherperson steps forward. By the size and frame of the person, I’m guessing it’s another female member. I’m still bent over, and she’s holding something I can’t see. She takes her position behind me.

“This whip represents the adversaries that will attempt to pry our secrets from you.” Her words have no inflection.

Wait, did she just say awhip?

I’m just starting to turn and say, “Whoa, hold up,” but before I can even form the words, the whip comes down with a sickening crack. It’s like liquid pain being poured over my back. On reflex alone, I arch and scream. The sting is so intense, I can hardly breathe. I can’t pull enough air into my lungs. It feels like they’ve been stunned into malfunctioning.

There’s a second of silence as everyone waits to see if I’ll forfeit. But I’ve already come this far, so I don’t say anything.

Squeezing my eyes shut and gritting my teeth against the pain, I reposition myself to receive the next blow. It comes quickly. The whip licks my back again, leaving a ribbon of fire in its wake. And this time, I don’t even try to quiet the scream that erupts from somewhere deep in my chest.

There’s one more strike after that, but the pain is already so intense that I don’t even feel it. It must be the adrenaline that’s shooting through my system.

When it’s over, I’m given a few minutes to recover before someone steps forward, grabs my hand, and walks me over to a table that’s being pushed forward. It’s all wood with straps dangling from it. Honestly, it looks like something straight out of a medieval dungeon, and the sight of it sends my heart rate into cardiac arrest territory.

For a split second, I consider saying, “Fuck this,” but something stops me. The crushing weight of expectation. My only goal growing up was to excel at everything and do all the right things, all to please my parents. They could be so suffocatingly critical, but when they were happy with me, life was great. When they weren't, well, it’s like I didn’t even exist.

And this, becoming a member of the Burning Crown, is all they’ve ever wanted. If I back out now, I’ll be dead to them. They’d never admit that outright, but I know it’s true. The calls would stop. The money would stop. I’d be on my own.

So, yeah, I guess I’m doing this.

Someone guides me to the table, and I climb up, wincing when the skin on my back makes contact with the hard wood. Holy shit. Gingerly, I shift my body until I’m lying flat on the table, my thighs clamped shut.

The only thing going through my mind is,How can this possibly get worse?

In the dim light, someone steps forward. Everyone in this room looks the same—dark robe, gold mask—but there’ssomething about this guy that commands attention. He’s tall and even hidden beneath all that fabric, I can tell his frame leans toward muscular. I can’t see his hair or his face, though. And it’s too dim to see the color of his eyes. So his commanding presence is all there is to set him apart.

“This act consummates your forever bond to the society,” he intones, his deep baritone skipping down my spine. “Do you agree?”

“Y-yes,” I say, my voice trembling.

Everyone starts chanting, and he grabs my ankles, pulling me toward the end of the table. I yelp in pain as the smooth wood scrapes along my back, but he doesn’t react at all to my distress. When my legs are dangling over the edge, he opens his robe, unzips his pants, and pulls his cock out.

I wish I had the presence of mind to take a good look at it, but I’m so terrified that all I can focus on is the very real possibility that being “scared to death” might actually be a thing.

He reaches up, and grabs a fist full of my hair, yanking my head back. I almost gasp because I’m not expecting it, but I swallow the sound before it can escape. I don’t want this guy knowing I’m afraid, which is absurd because I’m sure he can see it written all over my face.

Arching over me, he brings his head down to mine and speaks directly in my ear, “Spread your thighs like a good girl.”

Swallowing, I do as I’m told, and he releases my hair so he can grip both my thighs and pull me open even wider. Using one finger, he tests my entrance, and I’m mortified because I already know what he’ll find. My pussy is soaking wet. Despite the fear, my body is responding to him…

A rumble of approval reverberates in his chest as he shifts his hips forward, pressing the head of his cock against my entrance. That’s the only warning I get. A breath later, he pushes into me so deep, and so hard that my back arches, and a scream is rippedfrom my throat. He’s so big, I wonder if he tore me. That’s how bad it hurts.

The chanting continues as he thrusts into me, fucking me hard, mercilessly. I bite the inside of my cheek as his large hand closes around my breast and squeezes. It’s painful, and I try to twist away, but that only makes him squeeze harder—his way of reminding me that he’s the one in control here.

Clouds of sage-scented smoke engulf us as he continues his assault on my pussy, taking me hard and deep. Then something happens. Something inside me shifts and pleasure slowly bleeds into the pain. My hips arch into him, and my body opens up a fraction more.

He moans inside his mask, and that sound sends a jolt of satisfaction zipping through me. His thumbs flick over my sensitive nipples, and he arches over me, his cloak and large body shielding me from the room of people.

He falls into a ruthless rhythm, pounding into me with so much force that the solid wood table moves beneath me, the feet scraping against the tiles. His hand grips my breast so hard, it makes my eyes water. But the pain feeds something inside me, something I didn’t even know was there.

With a deep, primal growl, he thrusts one more time, pushing in as deep as he can, then stills as he pumps his cum into me. Enveloped in the cocoon created by his robe, I breathe him in, my body cracking open. And once that fissure is created, there’s no stopping the tidal wave of heat that crashes through my wafer-thin resistance.

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