Page 12 of Don't Say A Word

“Don’t say a word.” There is less conviction in his voice, as though he is already weary of saying it.

Discovering that he isn’t responsible for my captivity makes me fear him a little less. Makes me a little bolder. Any punishment he’s dished out so far is bearable, so I just stare at him, the puddle of water at my feet growing. He sits forward, reaching toward his back pocket and I drop to my knees.

He nods and tosses the towel over me. “Dry yourself before you get ill.”

I wrap the towel around my shoulders and relax into my motionless pose.

“Dry yourself and discard the towel.” His conviction is back.

I remain unmoving, eyes locked on his. He stands and stalks behind me. Pain cuts into the soles of my feet as he lays a single lash across them. But still, I don’t move. He strikes again. And again. Tears form in my eyes but the coldness has numbed me a little.

And the pain isn’t so bad.

Mum has always said I have a high tolerance for pain. When I was little, a childhood friend and I were outside, climbing a tree. I fell out and crashed onto the ground, my arm pinned beneath me. My friend told me not to tell so we wouldn’t get it trouble. I wiggled my fingers, tested the movement and decided it was fine. It was three days before I admitted what had happened to my mother and she took me for x-rays. Not long after, I was modeling a purple cast, my wrist broken in two places. I never cried, never complained.

It’s time to test her theory.

He hits harder, hard enough that a hiss escapes. But the pain is temporary, flashing then dissolving. And then the towel is whipped from my shoulders, the cold air hitting me harder than the lash.

“Stand!” he orders.

I don’t move, I simply follow him with my eyes as he stalks around the room, but I refuse to turn my head, so I lose sight of him as he walks behind me. Strong arms wrap around my waist and jerk me to my feet. I go limp, forcing him to drag me over to the corner where he presses the button that lowers the chains to the floor.

My heart starts to pound in my chest, revisiting my decision to defy him. But then he changes his mind, stopping the chains as they dangle mid-air. With me still hanging limply in his arms, he walks over to the chair and heaves me over his lap. It’s only then that I start to fight. But he is strong, a lot stronger than me. His legs pin mine in place as he bends me over his lap, curse words falling from his mouth as I struggle against him.

“Let me go!”

“The more you fight the more it’s going to hurt.”

I renew my efforts, straining against him, trying to kick my legs and thrash about. But it is pointless. I’m nothing more than a rag doll to him. And worse still, I can feel his hardness jutting into my hip. He’s enjoying this.

Whack!

His hand strikes my wet backside and the pain is instant, worse than the lash, but still nothing I can’t handle.

“Fuck you!” I spit.

Whack!

My entire body stiffens as the pain intensifies. I grit my teeth together as he strikes me again and again until finally, I let my body sag and I fall limply over his lap, submitting to his command. He pushes me and I fall to the ground. Wiping away the tears that betray me, I glare at him with all the intensity I can muster.

“Kneel.” His voice is cold and dark.

I wince as my heels push into my backside, my eyes scanning the polished concrete for the familiar stain of red.

“I’ve already told you I don’t want to hurt you, but I will, if that’s what it takes. The choice is yours.”

And there it is again. Choice. He keeps insisting I have one.

“I am happy to spank you again, if you wish. I rather enjoyed it.” There is a hint of humor in his tone and I look back at him with all the hatred and defiance I can muster.

“Stand.”

I get to my feet, anger seething beneath the surface of my movements.

“Don’t move,” he instructs, “or else we’ll have to start this process all over again.” He shifts himself to the edge of the chair, bringing himself close to me. The faint outline of his erection bulges against his jeans. I close my eyes.

“Open your eyes. Watch.”

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