hope they loosen your tongue so that no more suffering is necessary. How many times you get whipped is all on you.”
My stomach turns over. I don’t have the answers he wants. Which means…
For the second time since I met him, I feel like the accused in a Salem Witch Trial. Accused of magic I can’t perform, about to be tortured until I admit to something I didn’t do, until I will confess unspeakable sins I would never dream of committing just to end the pain.
The pieces to a strange puzzle that shouldn’t make sense click together in my head.
I was raised in a religious order that sees painful, violent punishments as the way to keep women in line.
Spider is about to torture me in a manner that is all too like the torture that was delivered upon witches, by the church.
There is a cross on the wall in front of me.
And the bikers call their meetings church.
My worlds clash together like thunder, warping themselves into a sickening mural that burns my eyes to look at.
I swallow, my stomach trying to empty itself.
“Please, Spider, you can’t do this, I don’t know who he is, I swear, I’m telling you the truth, you have to believe me…” I’m babbling, my own voice high-pitched and broken.
His palm roams over my left butt cheek, heating the skin. “The only words I want to hear from you are you counting the strokes.” He does the same with the right.
“Spider, please no—”
His boots scuff the carpet as he steps back.
There is a loud whooshing sound.
His belt lashes across my cheeks, the strap of leather hitting both at once. The flash of pain is like a branding iron on my skin.
I scream.
“I don’t hear you counting.”
His voice is cold and hard and muffled through the pounding of my heart in my ears.
“One…” I croak.
The sting seems to burn on forever, imprinting itself on the inside of my brain for all time, embedding itself deep in my soul.
It’s beyond logic, beyond all reason for any normal person, but somehow, the pain also does something else. It burns its way into my blood, traveling right between my legs. My sex aches as if his fingers have stroked it.
I’m actually turned on. How in the…
The effort of processing this bizarre realization makes my head feel light and leaves me reeling.
Another whoosh. Fire licks across my rear cheeks in a wide, stinging line.
I let out a whimper.
He waits for the count.
“Two…” I shake out.
Crack.
I howl. He pauses until I rasp, “Three…”
Hatred for him burns in my breast, but there’s something about the helplessness of the situation, about being at his mercy, that causes that same pain to tease my clit until my core throbs again.
As if he’s somehow aware of my arousal, a soft rumble leaves him. Spider’s palm caresses the line of fire his belt left behind, intensifying the sting. I hiss between my teeth.
“Fuck, look at this. Your ass looks so perfect, a gorgeous pink.”
“Stop!” I hold back a sob. “Please stop…”
“Not a chance. You are mine. My woman doesn’t run from me. You brought this on yourself, thief.”
The word brings its own wrenching pain, but it only lasts a second.
Crack. The fiery lash strikes another spot, lower across both cheeks, bringing a fresh flash of agony.
I heave breaths. My worlds slam together again, and for one horrible moment, I am Sarah. I am not in a clubhouse, I am in the Circle of Retribution, and I’m back at the place I worked so hard to escape.
The pain burns on. I look up at the cross, and my faith shatters like smashed glass. I groan and tears splash my cheeks as I turn my face from it.
“I don’t hear you,” Spider growls.
Hatred for him burns bright. “Five!” I snarl brokenly.
There is a final whoosh and a crack, and then the wild sting of hellfire.
“Six…” I sob.
“Good girl.” The heat of his chest presses into my back, his palm cupping my jaw, his other hand caressing my backside. I whimper when his pelvis chafes against the lash marks he’s left behind.
“Now,” he rumbles in my ear, “Now you know how much you’ll hurt if you don’t tell me what I want to know. No more lies out of this thieving little mouth.” His fingers trace my lips. When I jerk my head, his palm tightens its grip.
How is this so hot? It is, but at the same time, there’s no mistaking it; the thought of another lash makes me