Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 40901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
I scream as pitifully as I can as he lets the first lash land hard across my cheeks. I want my cries to ring in the ears of these medical professionals, people who take pity on others for a living. I believe they may one day be my method of escape, and so I do not mind satisfying Starlight’s sadistic need to hear me in pain.
He beats me with the stern dominance of a man who has been made to feel silly against his will. I have bruised his ego one too many times and now my flesh must pay the price. Every lash brings with it a sweet heat that sinks into my skin. My angelic blood does give me some resistance to human damage. My swift healing means that the pain is swiftly minimized, a fact he seems to realize and is attempting to make up for by lashing me hard and fast, thrashing me like a helpless wretch.
I wish I could cry, but tears have never come easily to me. A good sobbing breakdown would really sell this right about now. I know better than to fake tears. Starlight is a bastard, but he is not stupid. He’ll notice the absence of water.
Unfortunately, that also means he will notice the presence of water. There is a distinct moisture developing not around my eyes, but around a lower part of my body. Every thudding, stinging blow of his heavy belt made all the heavier for being propelled by his powerful arm sends a new bolt of rebellious excitement through me. I am a mature woman, but there is a part of me that will always be nothing more than a brat. That part of me is absolutely loving every moment of this, pain included. Misbehaving and being held to account is delicious, even though I have no intention of ever submitting to Starlight. It might even be more exciting because I absolutely refuse to ever give into him.
Around two dozen strokes of the belt land before he stops for a moment and surveys his work. None of this is fair, of course. I never had any chance of escape, being shackled to the bed.
“I make you red, and you’re already healing it away. You could be punished over and over,” he says, drifting his hand over my ass. “You would feel the pain, and then you could suffer it all over again mere minutes later. You are a sadist’s dream girl, Katie.”
I bite my lower lip. One would think that my angelic nature is the secret I am most eager to keep. Far from it. My dearest held secret is that I am not only far from a stranger to pain. I am an aficionado of suffering. There is something about hurting that just feels good to me. Of course, I can never let Starlight know that. I must lead him to believe that I am suffering bravely.
“You are a monster,” I declare, hiding my face. They will think I am hiding in shame. In truth, I am trying not to laugh. “How dare you strike me. It will be you who is inevitably struck down. Every lash you inflict upon me, every indignity you visit upon me will be inflicted on you a thousand times over.”
He grunts and lifts his arm again. I do my best not to lift my hips in anticipation of the belt’s sweet kiss. A woman of my stature and station has very few opportunities for submission of any kind. Every time the lash lands, I feel intense excitement racing through me. Anticipation, and yes, even pleasure begin to build as my twisted psyche takes the stimulation and turns it into the surreptitious beginnings of orgasm. He will give me gratification with every attempt to punish me, and he will never understand why none of his methods work. Already he has shown me callous cruelty, and though I certainly mentally loathe him for it, the twisted depths of my psyche could come to adore him if I am not careful.
Once, twice, three times more the lash lands, and I do not think I am imagining it landing harder with every successive stroke. He is trying to work out what my limits are, where I will begin to break. It takes everything I have not to laugh with delight when that thick leather bites the underside of my cheeks with an impeccably well-placed stroke. He knows how to handle leather. I wonder what else he knows, and how he has come to know it.
Finally, someone with some sense puts an end to things. “Sheriff, please,” the doctor intervenes. “This is against every law I am familiar with. She may very well have supernatural physiology, but this is simple cruelty. I cannot have it in my medical bay. I will not have it.”