Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“I don’t think that…”
I don’t like the look in his eyes. Shah is terrifying when he’s angry. He’s also terrifying when he’s slightly proud, but incredibly stern.
“Don’t lie to me, Dreamy,” he growls. “I don’t expect you to be sorry, yet, but I do expect you to tell me the truth.”
“I am telling you the truth.”
“Dreamy…” he takes me by the shoulders and looks deep into my eyes. “You’re going to be in a lot less trouble if you obey me. I understand the urge to beat that girl. She lives to push buttons.”
“I’m not feral. I swear. It was a misunderstanding. She did it to herself. She tried to hit me, and…”
He picks me up. That’s not good. Every time he picks me up something terrible, or hot, or painful happens. I’m picking this is going to be one of the painful times. I am not wrong.
My next stop is over the same bed he ravaged me in before, the rucked-up sheets still smelling like sex. Outlaws don’t have to make their bed before 7:45 am. And they don’t have to listen to explanations either. This isn’t fair, but Shah’s already decided I deserve to be punished, which means Zeki won.
“I think a traditional punishment’s in order,” Shah says. “Six of the best with my belt.”
“But…”
“Twelve strokes.”
“Shah…”
“Twenty-four strokes. Want to keep talking?”
I grip the sheets, knowing I am going to be hurt, and knowing it’s not my fault. This is so deeply unfair. For an outlaw, Shah is intense about discipline. He pretends to let the ship run itself, but in truth he’s just as domineering as any Elite running a drone Colony. He pretends to offer freedom, but all he really offers is pain.
The belt licks my ass with a tongue like fire. I scream, and it bites again almost immediately. He’s lashing me fast and hard, with a snappy rhythm that makes the heat flower and grow and sink deep into my flesh.
It hurts like hell. I knew it was going to hurt, but by all that is holy, the way a leather belt catches my ass is like pure fire being unleashed on my vulnerable body. He hasn’t even taken my pants down yet. I know he will. Nothing he does is by halves, and if he has a reason to bare me and claim me, he does. He is an absolute monster who ignites my loins — usually with desire, but I am not sure Shah makes any real distinction between lust and pain.
The sound of the belt hitting my ass is like the crack of a gunshot. I try to stay quiet, because that feels like control, but it’s not really. I have no control when I am with Shah. I never had control before Shah either. My entire existence has been at the mercy of forces beyond my control.
His belt lands again. And again. I don’t think I can take twenty-four. There have been five so far, and even six feels like an impossible stretch. Shah doesn’t care.
“Shah! Please! I’m sorry!”
He pauses.
“What are you sorry for, Dreamy?”
“I’m sorry for disobeying you,” I say. That’s a safe thing to say. I don’t care if I have to apologize for Zeki. Maybe I will say I hit her. Maybe that’ll earn some respect. Right now, with the belt lashing my butt, there’s no respect coming my way.
“And?”
“I’m sorry for punching Zeki so hard I broke her nose. With my fist. I crunched her bones right into her skull.” I’m trying to make it sound convincing. I don’t know what it actually feels like to hit anybody, let alone punch them in the face.
Shah
For the first time, I glance down at Dreamy’s hands. I finally notice she doesn’t have a mark on her knuckles. If she’d punched Zeki, she would have bruised or bloodied hands. Her hands are as soft and as undamaged as ever. She was telling the truth in the beginning when she denied everything.
“Shit.”
I stop lashing her, glad I only got to five. I was going to show her what a true whipping was. The five lashes I gave her already were robust and stern. I’m sure she’s already aching with pain — and knowing her, dripping with need. My masochistic little worker is not in control of her instincts. Are any of us? I am being confronted with my own instinct — to punish. I punish without regard for reason. I establish either my dominance or my cruelty. I never cared which before. With Dreamy, I feel different. Guilty, perhaps. It’s a strange feeling and I do not like it. I know she’s vulnerable. Another word for it would be weak.
Dreamy is powerless against me. It would be so easy to ruin her. I have to be more careful. I have to be less certain. That’s going to be almost completely fucking impossible. My instinct is to never give the benefit of the doubt to anyone besides myself.