by Trent Evans
Remorse.
This wasn’t about expiating sins. It wasn’t about rehabilitation. It wasn’t even about punishment or retribution — at least not for her. Not anymore.
No, this was about simply acknowledging how much wrong he’d done. How much he’d hurt others who hadn’t deserved it. How badly he’d betrayed their trust.
Remorse. If he could finally feel it, there was still hope.
His voice was thick as he said it. “I wish I could tell her I was sorry. I wish… I’d gone a different way. I don’t think I deserved any of this—”
“Be very careful, Quinton.”
His throat worked again, but he wisely refrained from finishing the thought.
“What did you think when you looked at her wounds, at her pain? Did it turn you on?”
“No… no.”
“But it did at the time, didn’t it?” Anna tried to keep her voice neutral, calm, but there was no denying the anger was there, simmering just under the surface. When she’d learned what he’d done to Genna — and when news had come back about what he’d tried to do to Brianna Erickson. The rage was in full bloom within her.
She wasn’t sure what she wouldn’t have done to him then.
Perhaps Grayson’s pick was a good one after all?
“Yes, it… aroused me.” He looked away, slapping his hands down upon the photos, as if he might blot out the sight of them.
“You look at them as you speak to me, Quinton Trask.” She almost snarled it.
He met her eyes then, and reluctantly slid his hands off the table as he dropped them to the photographs once more.
“What you see there… is it right what was done in those pictures?”
“No. I know that now.”
“But you didn’t know it then?” She was pushing him, but it was time. His days of running from the truth were over. As dead and gone as the twisted man who’d committed the despicable acts depicted in those photos.
“I did know it — part of me. Had to have known.”
“Yet, you did it anyway. You hurt those women anyway. Is that right?”
The veins were standing out on his forehead as he stared at her, his eyes wide. “I can’t undo it. What I did.”
“But you could start by saying you’re fucking sorry. That you feel remorse.” Anna leaned forward, drawing closer. “You could show you understand how wrong it was.”
“It doesn’t change it.” His voice lowered to nothing more than a rasp. “I can’t change it. Any of it!”
She snapped the lash against the tabletop, the loud pop making him jerk, his eyes as big as dinner plates. “God damn you, Quinton, say it. Say the words. Tell the truth — no matter how much you hate it!”
“I have!”
“The fuck you have!” She spat the words at him now, needing him to hear them, to feel them. “This isn’t a fucking game, boy. This is hurt — real hurt. Not hurt like your sore little ass right now. This is anguish, this is scarring, this is something these women will take with them the rest of their fucking days! So, I want to hear you say it.”
“I’m sorry!” he bellowed, the cords of his neck standing out.
Darynn took two quick steps toward the table, but he gave her a quick shake of his head, and she came no closer.
“I’m sorry! Fuck, if I could take it all back, I would — but I can’t! I’m sorry!” He laid his forehead down on his folded hands, but she wasn’t letting him go. Not just yet. She needed to believe him, to feel his genuine sorrow.
“Do you have any idea how horrified Kurt and Derek were when they found Brianna missing? Do you!”
“No… I’m sorry.” His voice was a miserable whimper.
“Do you know how long it took for Genna’s wounds to heal? How long until she’d even look a man in the eyes again?”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, the sound like a mantra.
“Look at me, Quinton. And so help me, if you look away again, I’ll whip your ass until the blood runs down to your heels.”
His gaze flew up, meeting hers. His eyes were red, puffy, but he wasn’t weeping.
Good.
Crying would be a refuge from the truth. He needed to know, to really understand.
“You did something even worse than hurting their bodies, even worse than scaring their loved ones half to death. Do you know what I’m talking about? The very worst thing a man in your position could do?”
Wisely, he stayed silent, his lips tight, but she could see it in his eyes, the horrible truth dawning upon him.
“You betrayed their trust, you betrayed their very sense of safety. These women — the women of the Trust. They are much more than just playthings for you men.”
She heard Darynn’s soft chuckle, and she flicked her a withering glare. The blonde’s expression sobered.
“When you purchase a woman at an Intake auction, your duty, your sacred obligation as a member of the Trust is to protect them, to keep them safe. Not to brutalize them, not to make them fear for their fucking lives! Just because you can use them sexually, just because they’re submissive, just because they volunteered for the duty — it does not mean they somehow become mere objects. They are thinking, feeling, human beings. And you betrayed them.”
His mouth hung open then, his face shockingly pale, as if the terrible realization was too much to process. Then he rubbed his hands across his mouth, taking in a deep, rattling breath.
“I know it now. I… understand. All of it.”
Anna sat back, willing herself to calm, the rage burning so bright inside of her she wasn’t entirely sure how much longer she could keep it in check.
The fact was, he did see it now. That was plain. But this was only another step. There was so much yet to be done. What he did next might be the most important step yet — and despite her black, seething anger, she hoped desperately he’d make the correct decision.
“What do you think should be done with you now?” She said it in a smooth voice, though he couldn’t mistake the steel there, lurking just underneath. “Now that you truly see what you’ve done. What’s to be done with you? Is there anything left worth salvaging?”
Then he did something that truly shocked her, something that had Darynn softly gasping from the kitchen.
He smoothly rose from the chair, and Anna slid back instinctively, taking hold of the strap.
But rather than attack her, or attempt to escape, he did something else entirely.
Quinton laid across the table once more, pressing his face against the smooth surface as he said the words.
“I don’t know what should be… done with me. But know that… I deserve to pay for what I did.” He swallowed so hard, she could hear it. “Mistress.”
The sense of righteous power — and extreme arousal — filled her as she stood, her strap in hand. He’d done it. He’d passed the most important test yet, the most critical trial on the journey to rebuilding him into something good again. To finally rescuing that lost little boy.
“For the first time since I’ve met you, I have hope for you. I have hope that we’ll find you again… in the end.” She squeezed the handle of the strap, smiling down upon the prostrate, truly remorseful man. “But what you said is true. You do deserve to pay. And pay you will.”
Chapter 16
As I lay there, humiliated, defeated, I felt nothing. I was numb.
I bent over that table because suddenly I needed to feel… something.
Those photos… in a way, they broke me, forced me to peer at a part of myself I knew was there but had never actually glimpsed before. I understood now. Even as I readied for that first horrible stroke of her strap, I understood.
Maybe if I hurt, maybe if I groaned, and screamed. Maybe if I drowned in my anguish. Maybe then I’d be able to reconcile myself with what I’d seen in those photos.
With that pain, I might be able to finally give my Mistress something she wanted. My torture might please her.
The strap wrapped around my ass, t
he sound so loud it seemed to explode inside my head, stunning me. She didn’t spare me, each blow harder than the last, each blast of pain more devastating than what came before it.
It was pure torture, and I knew I deserved it. It was the least I could do.
If I could hurt enough, if I could pay my debt. If I could atone for what I’d done, somehow I hoped I might be able to start anew. I had no idea what journey I was about to begin, but I knew I had to walk through the fire before I could take even that first step.
Within a minute, I was crying out as the strap laced into buttocks already aflame. I was certain I couldn’t endure more, and yet I did, stroke after stroke.
Somewhere, Darynn’s hard fingers wrapped around my upper arms, holding me down. I tried to beg my Mistress to stop, to forgive me, but the words were gibberish. My eyes watered, my teeth hurting as I clenched them together, my jaw muscles burning.
It was more pain than I knew was possible for a human to endure, and yet, endure it I did. Not with stoicism, not with dignity, not with any shred of courage. I simply took the pain, absorbed it, drinking it down deep until it reached a part of me that was twisted and blackened and dead.
And in that pain, I felt that withered part of me gasp back to life, felt my heart, my humanity take its first breath in far too long.
Somehow, my agony was bringing me back to life. I could see it now, really see, and what I saw was both horrific and profoundly moving.
What I saw was a man who’d been broken… only to rise once more. I would survive this, I would make it, I would get to the other side.
She would show me, she would instruct me. I knew I would hate some of it. I knew she promised me only more pain, more humiliation, more subjugation. But I would surrender to all of it — because I had no choice.
My mistress promised me one more thing though, perhaps the most important thing a creature like me could ever hope for.
A second chance.
At some point, I realized the only sound in the room was my hoarse shouting, my serial groans. The strap no longer fell, though my flesh was a conflagration of agony, the very air against my flesh like a blowtorch. My buttocks and thighs trembled uncontrollably, my calves knotted and aching. I didn’t know if my cheek pressed to the table was soaked in sweat or tears.
I didn’t care which one it was. All that mattered was pleasing her. All that mattered was that the strap no longer laid down its agonizing lessons across my flesh.
“Quinton. Quinton!” Anna’s voice was soft, her breath tickling my ear. “Come back to me, boy. You’re okay. Come back to your Mistress.”
My chest rose and fell as if my heart was about to seize, as if I feared I was about to draw my last breath. Maybe I was. Maybe I was dying, and this was the quiet before the dark.
“Help me get him up,” I heard Anna say.
Hands curled under my shoulders, the scents of both Anna and Darynn combining, all around me. My head lolled on my shoulders, my world spinning. The pain! God, it was so horrible, so engulfing. I was certain my ass was literally on fire, each time they bumped against it making me gasp anew.
“Here — over here.” It was Darynn. “He just needs to rest a little bit.”
They dragged me across the kitchen, through the threshold of a new room. I was only dimly aware of the surroundings, the cool air, the flash of an earth tone sofa, a huge flat screen television, muted lighting. My feet weren’t dragging on tile anymore, my toes whisking through thick, soft carpeting instead.
The leather was blessedly cold against my skin as I was laid down upon the couch, my sweat seeming to meld my flesh to it. The side of my face pressed to the cushion, my lips moving wordlessly against it.
“Just relax, boy.” Fingers stroked the sodden hair at my temple, the sensation buoying me, her touch like a life raft, keeping me from sinking deep into oblivion. “You’re going to be just fine. Rest now.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, as if she hadn’t heard me screaming it out repeatedly as the strap tormented me across that tabletop.
“Just rest, Quinton. You did very well.” Anna’s hand caressed my hair, and I didn’t want that gentle touch to ever stop, my body, my soul so starved for any tenderness, any kindness at all. “We have much still to do, but you did so well.”
I closed my eyes then, letting the darkness swallow me up, secure in the knowledge of the only thing that I cared about anymore.
She would be there when I woke up.
Chapter 17
Darynn wouldn’t take her eyes off of her as they both stood in the kitchen, Anna sipping hot tea from a cream-colored mug. The slender fingers of both hands wrapped about it, the painted nails slipping under the chipped handle.
“What in blue fuck are you doing here, Shaw?”
Anna glanced across the room, toward the naked, sleeping man sprawled across her couch. “It’s been a while. Maybe I should check on him.”
Darynn snorted. “It’s his first time dealing with endorphins. First timers always sleep — sometimes they even cry. Perfectly normal — even for a twisted fuck like him.”
Anna’s gaze snapped back to the blonde. “You could try dredging up a tiny bit of warmth once in a while, Hauser.”
“Warmth is boring. Besides, they don’t want warmth.”
“Maybe not the men you work with — but I’m not like you.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
“Bitch.” Anna shook her head, sipping again to suppress her smile.
Darynn undid her apron, slapping it down on the counter. “I can’t believe I actually wore that.”
“You looked cute in it. Very domestic.”
“I’d get excited about that if I knew you liked girls.” She planted her palms upon the counter’s edge at either side. “But since you don’t, I’m going to assume you’re a being smartass.”
“You’re a perceptive one, for a jarhead.”
“Count on it,” Darynn snapped, jerking her head in the direction of the slumbering Quinton. “What are you going to do with him? Does Corddray know?”
“Know what?”
She knew exactly what the tough woman meant. There was serious trouble brewing here if she weren’t careful.
But Anna was paid to be careful. Among other things.
“Don’t play stupid with me, Anna. You and I both know Grayson would shit bricks sideways if he knew you were… doing what you’re doing.”
“What is that, by the way?”
The tall woman scowled at her. “You’re really playing coy today, aren’t you? You wanna sit here and tell me you’re not considering taking him on?”
“He’s already mine, Darynn. I know it. He knows it.”
“But is that what you planned all along? Or is this a continual series of what-the-fuck-do-I-do-now contingencies? In my unit, our non-coms called that ‘field improvising’. Grunts like us just called it FUBAR.”
Anna sipped her tea, her ear listening for any stirring from the living room. “He needs to be shown what his new life is — now that he’s not rotting in that cell down there.”
“He’s gonna wish he was back in that cell, if I know Anna Shaw.”
She smiled at Darynn. “Part of him might. I’m not sure about the rest of him though.”
“His little erection was… interesting. I’d never imagined he’d be at all into this.”
“He doesn’t have much choice but to find out, does he?” Anna set her mug down on the counter, stretching her arms over her head. The tension in her own limbs was almost unbearable — a combination of extreme anticipation, and a vague sense of unease.
You’re right to be uneasy. This is uncharted waters for more than just Quinton Trask.
“Last time I checked, forcing a man to submit didn’t mean he was going to enjoy it.”
“Sometimes men need to be led to the truth — even if they don’t want to see it.”
“Where are you… going to…?” Darynn’s sculpted brow arched.
; “I could use… his room.”
Saying the words was, oddly, a lot easier than thinking them. She’d hardly even entered the room, much less used it after Greg. She’d shut it out, locked it down — just as she had her own heart. It was easier, cleaner that way. A symbolic turning of the page.
Not to mention a way to protect a certain person’s heart.
“Jesus, you haven’t thought this through, have you?” Darynn looked down with a dramatic sigh. “I’m gonna have to bail her ass out again, aren’t I?”
“You’ve never once bailed me out — more like made things more complicated.”
“You keep on telling yourself that, Shaw,” Darynn muttered, pushing herself away from the counter. “I’ll go get it ready. Everything in the same places?”
Anna stared out toward the living room. Quinton was still motionless. Thankfully.
“Let’s get the display stand set up first — we’ll need the roll-around cart too.”
“Razor then?” Darynn’s eyes glittered, her lips suddenly moist.
“The whole kit. I want to be ready, whatever comes.”
“You mean whoever comes.”
Anna luxuriated in the shiver that coursed down her spine, her nipples suddenly tightening.
“Trust me. He’s not going to be coming anytime soon. Not unless he’s a very, very good boy.”
Darynn padded toward the hallway, muttering under breath. “Thank God the real Anna Shaw finally decided to show up.”
Chapter 18
I came back to the land of the living with my face hot and itching, a slick of my drool pooling on the leather cushion. My ass throbbed, but surprisingly it wasn’t as sore as I’d imagined it would be. I had no real frame of reference though.
I’d given out countless beatings, but I’d never actually contemplated how much the recipients might be hurting afterward. I was finding out now.