The Sect

by Lane, Courtney

“Please scream, princess. It really turns me on and it lets me know I’m doing my job. Louder!” He hit me again.

  The sting burned like acid on my behind and I was almost sure he broke skin that time. I howled through the leather with tears streaming down my cheeks. It was excruciating—and never left me. I could barely breathe let alone think.

  Whap!

  I screamed my cries, shaking a little harder, hoping to leave my body and no longer have to endure the pain. I shut my eyes, breathing deeply. My thoughts rummaged for memories of happier things and times. The love my father and mother always showed for me no matter how I disappointed them. The family picnic one year where I goaded my father into a foot race around the park. My father—a former track star—couldn’t help but agree. I remembered my mother’s discontent, stating that I’d ruin my pretty dress. I remembered my father letting me win. I looked over my shoulder behind me and he had the proudest smile on his face.

  As tears streamed down my cheeks at the memory, realizing how much I missed them, a sullen smile threatened to press against my lips. When I opened my eyes, I could barely feel the pain anymore.

  Noah clucked his tongue, rounding my body to look at me with a smirk. “There she goes, pushing down the pain and going to her happy place. You took way too long to get there, princess. How about a little more pain before I make you come?”

  I stared at the black brick wall, finding strength in the invisible and never gave him an emotional response.

  “What’s that?” He cupped one ear and stepped forward. “Did you say you wanted something a little more painful before the final act? The act in which I make you come the hardest you’ve ever come in your life? You got it. Because, you know, I’m feeling very charitable.” He walked around me again.

  The sensation of his unwelcome hands on my body made me jerk in my restraints, further increasing the ache on my behind. My ankles were freed before he stepped to the front of my body and removed the devices from my hands, neck, and mouth.

  The moment I stood and collapsed, my hair was in his hands. At a blinding speed, I was dragged across the floor. The pull and pinch at my scalp increased my screams. I tumbled, falling to the ground, but it didn’t stop him from hauling my body across the cold, rigid concrete. I sprawled out my arms, trying to obtain traction, but it was of no use.

  He slammed me down, circumventing my need to get up by sitting on my chest while I lay back on the floor. He shoved my arms up, binding them to cuffs attached to chains that were drilled into the concrete floor. He spun, straddling my body and easily overcame the resistance my legs gave off, binding my ankles to tight cuffs installed into the floor. My restraints were more restrictive than they were on the sawhorse. He latched a thick leather collar around my neck, keeping my head from turning. When I tried, the tension strengthened and choked me.

  Unable to turn my head and watch him, I listened in as his steps receded in the background and returned a few moments later.

  His dark shadow blanketed me, garnering my attention. He crouched down, fingering several blood red pillar candles. He placed all three of them in a straight line on my torso. The freezing temperature of the candles made my breathing erratic; the candles became alive with movement. He reached behind his back and pulled out a book of matches. He struck a match, holding it up for my view before he lit the candles.

  “You’re looking up at me like you think it won’t be so bad.” He stood up with a smile, sliding his feet a few inches backward. “Wait.”

  I strained to keep my eyes down as the candles began to burn. My torso began to feel like it was slowly warmed from the touch of the bottom of the candles. The warmer the candles became on my skin, the more the heat irritated my flesh. The strong metallic smell made me nauseous. My breathing was robust and ragged, easily spilling the wax that had pooled around the wick. As I watched the thick red liquid drip down the side of the candle, my breathing became erratic. The moment the wax touched my skin, it bubbled and sizzled, burning my skin with a chemical reaction.

  My eyes widened in horror, the shocking torment rifled up my body, making my ability to scream almost null.

  “What?” he asked from above me, sounding disappointed. “No screams? Let’s see what we can do about that.” He lifted his foot slowly, toying with tipping the candle over with the point of his shoe.

  Breathing forcefully through my nose, I kept my lips pressed together and stared up at him defiantly.

  “Did you hear me, princess? I want you to scream.” He kicked all three of the candles, forcing them to spill a flood of wax over my skin.

  I pressed my lips together, struggling against the burn. My throat pressed firmly against the leather and the chains clanked against the ground, but I never gave in. Instead, I kept my eyes closed, eventually stilling my movements. I began to remember a happier moment, my Cotillion.

  The room became too quiet. Upon opening my eyes, Noah turned from me and walked to the table on the far side of the room.

  He put on a leather glove, grabbed a cloth that was soaking in a glass jar full of a jelly like liquid, and walked over to me. Squatting down, he pushed the only candle that hadn’t slipped to the floor off my skin. When the frigid cloth hit my skin, the softness against my raw flesh made the cloth feel like sandpaper. “You made a promise to be good. You broke that promise. If you want to do something to piss me off, disobedience combined with breaking your word to me will do it. If you think this punishment is over, you’re very wrong.”

  I shut my eyes, restraining the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks.

  The heat of his body rushed at me as he swiftly crouched down, meeting me at eye level. His hand was at the top of my head, pulling my hair tightly, breaking a few strands from my scalp with his harsh grip. “Why don’t you get it? There is no escape. What you did was pointless, selfish, and…I’m pretty sure Jayme hates your guts right about now.” He smirked rubbing the swell of his bottom lip. “I enjoyed every single moment of reminding her how harsh my punishments could be. She’s a very, very sweet one when broken. She’s also so well trained; she thanks me when I punish her. She thinks the more she thanks me, the more she will please me. She knows something very poignant. Pleasing me makes me happy. Obedience and submission make me fucking gleeful. When I’m happy, so is Reven. She will do anything for him.” He snickered as he ran his finger along the side of my jawline.

  The guilt swarmed around my brain and covered me in nothing but remorse. She tried to help me, and in turn, my actions hurt her.

  “You’re lucky Reven is busy and can’t always personally discipline the worthless cunts that come here,” he snarled. “You want me on your side, because if I am, I’ll make sure I’m the one who disciplines you and I can have the most gentle hand here. There is a reason you haven’t yet had a close and personal contact with the men I was with when I saved you. You don’t want to, Keaton. They are trained killers. They won’t bother with the abuse. They will cut you open and watch you bleed out and die with fucking smiles on their faces. Because they are so wicked, they will fuck your dead corpse. Disobey again, and you’ll become very acquainted with who those men are. Reven labels them as his harbingers of death and it isn’t without a reason.”

  Standing tall, he looked down at me, watching the movement of my chest. “Are you ready for the final act, princess? I’m really looking forward to this.” He paced to the end of the room, grabbing a tattered wood chair. It scraped across the concrete with an irritating sound as he pulled it up behind my body. He crouched over me, quickly unlinking my cuffs from the hooks in the floor.

  In mere moments, he brought my wrists together behind my head. With the clank of chains, they were confined again. I tried to move my wrists, finding that they were somehow linked to the collar around my neck because movement caused the collar to tighten.

  He moved down to my feet, adding a few inches of slack in the chains. Clutching the crown of my hair, he pulled me up to stand. The moment I found my footing, his
hands were on my hips pulling me back toward him to sit on his lap. My position forced my legs to drape awkwardly over his legs with my upper half tilted to his left side, permitting him to see my face. My ankles were bound to the floor, disallowing much movement. With his eyes on me, his fingers crawled up the inside of my thighs. I wiggled, feeling the agony of the raw skin on my torso.

  When I began to sob, he glared at me and said, “I told you we weren’t done.” His nails raked across my pelvic bone, skipping to my inner thigh. He laid his palm flat against my sex and I gasped. “I just started. Are you in that much of a rush to come?” Slowly his palm rotated, manipulating my folds and pressed against my clitoris. I pressed my lips together, torn between pleading with him to stop and a reaction I’d come to loathe from my body—a reaction only he provoked. I jammed my eyes tightly shut, trying to enact my coping mechanism.

  It wouldn’t work.

  His hand moved faster. His fingertips circled my clit. I drew in a sharp breath as he released my head, joining his hand with the other to open me. Two fingers slid inside me and the other circled my bundle of nerves repeatedly. “Can you feel how much your pussy wants this?” he asked, his voice hoarse and low. “My fingers are drenched.”

  A burn worked its way up my spine and pervaded throughout my body. I tried to shove it down, but the pleasure won out. The fight with my body increased my tremors. My legs violently convulsed, rattling against the chains connected to the leather cuffs on my ankles. The stifling pressure burst with a fierce intensity, unleashing to my cries and pants. He covered my mouth, thrusting his fingers inside me and circling my nub with his thumb, sending my body into another orbit. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I exploded onto his fingers. Rigid and debilitated by the rush, I sank back limply into his arms. He grabbed my hair, forcing me to sit upright and withdrew his fingers from me, showing me that they were coated.

  Dejected, embarrassed, and disgusted with myself, my back heaved with heavy sobs.

  “Shh,” he cooed. His fingers raked up the inside of my arms; folded and forced to remain behind my head. The chill of his touch made me tremble. “Was that your first orgasm, princess?”

  I nodded before I could stop it.

  He quirked a brow, appearing puzzled over something unsaid. “But you’ve been fucked before, haven’t you?”

  Unwilling to discuss the semantics, I simply nodded again.

  His hand clutched my hair from over the position of my wrists, grabbing my hair harshly. “Would you like to be fucked with my fingers again?” Slowly his fingers manipulated my clit, still throbbing and burning with want. “Beg me for it.” The pressure of his fingers began to lessen until I could barely feel him. My hips bucked forward, searching for his touch. He shoved me back down on his lap. “Not this time, princess. What did I tell you?”

  “Please…don’t do this to me,” I sobbed.

  Leaning forward and pulling me so I lay slightly back, he swayed his lips across my breasts. His soft mouth ran across each of my nipples, making them harden inside his mouth. He sucked them hard, making me writhe against him and moan. His touch at my clit became slower, lessening to a barely felt sensation. My body rebelled against my mind, wanting more without consequence. Wanting to feel what it never had before just one more time.

  My nipple disappeared inside his mouth as he sucked the nub hard while grazing his teeth back and forth across the sensitive tip. My hips bucked again, inviting his fingers to explore me once more. He shoved me down harder and slid his fingers inside me, leaving them there. His tongue flittered against my nipple softly gently. My sex throbbed around his fingers, squeezing them tightly.

  He adjusted me until I could feel his erection, straining against his pants and bulging against my behind and the upper back portion of my thighs. My body betrayed me again and rocked against him. Smirking at me with his eyelids heavy, he withdrew his fingers, leaving them just shy of touching my sex.

  I began to feel the pain—I shoved away—on my stomach and back. My mind was thrust into chaos and I didn’t know what to hold on to and what to take away. He watched me, the dimples deepening as he withdrew his fingers farther away from me.

  He stopped the grinding motion of my hips, holding me firmly. “I told you, princess. You’re going to have to beg.” He abruptly stood from the chair, forcing me to fall awkwardly to the floor on my knees. My head threatened to lob forward and meet the concrete. Unable to brace myself for the abrupt fall—due to my hands tethered behind my head—I fell to the floor face first.

  He unchained my legs and grabbed the back of my head, forcing me to stand and walk. He paraded my bruised, nude body around the house, directing me back upstairs to my bedroom. He shoved me down the bed, unbound my hands, and removed the restraints on my neck. With a wink, he turned on his heels and left me alone in the bedroom.

  IT MUST’VE been the longest day ever. The morning was twice as long. The afternoon was three times longer. I stared at the shadows on the wall of my pretty prison, waiting for them to change and for the sunset to cloud the room slowly with darkness. Standing, while resting against the wall closest to the window and attempting to sleep, was the only position I could endure. I felt the pain in every part of me. I saw the pain inflicted by Noah’s brutal hand on almost every inch of my body, even if there weren’t any welts to be seen.

  The memories of the other side of his brutality elicited a persistent moisture between my legs. My body had become a receptacle of self-revulsion when it came to sex. It was a dirty, painful, and undesired act.

  I tasted a flavor of what I’d never thought I’d be able to taste. The memory of the flavor lingered with me, but the lingering taste faded too quickly. I wanted to forget, but my body desired more. The pleasure made me feel the pain. The pleasure at his hand made my coping mechanisms null, rendering me unable to grasp my ways of managing.

  Showering felt like bathing in acid. I persevered, hoping if I felt enough pain I would remember how to cope again. After several showers and feeling my fingers linger at a place that always disgusted me, I threw on my silk dress and vowed to stay away from the bathroom for the rest of the day. But, the dress was too constricting and irritated a part of me that was still healing. I remained nude inside the room, with my dress crumpled up on the floor.

  Noah’s hands dealt the perfect balance of pain and pleasure. It was my first climax and it made me crazed for it. It made me feel things I never thought my body was capable of feeling. He exploited all the defenses I’d put in place by opening me up with pain and devouring me with pleasure. Thoughts about what he might’ve felt like inside me penetrated my thoughts and made me feel more ashamed. He tried to break me, and he almost succeeded by thrusting my body out of its numb state and introducing me to desire.

  The lock on the door latched, making my heart beat with violence, pressing painfully against my chest.

  The natural, clean smell that wafted into the room wasn’t Reven’s, it was Noah’s.

  My mind wanted to show him he hadn’t broken me, but my body remembered and cowered in the corner, trying to hide behind the shadows in the room.

  He walked over to my bed and set the silver dinner tray down. Plodding toward me, he slipped his hands in his pockets. His gaze lazily drifted up and down my body with a heightening smirk of satisfaction. “I must say, I do beautiful work.” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t you agree, princess?” He quirked a brow while stepping forward. “I see you’re no longer shy.” He reached out and fingered a tear on my cheek. “I can also see that you’re so wet your thighs are sticking together.”

  My body revolted, shaking with aversion and freight, or at least I tried to pretend it was. My body was a traitorous vixen, because it shook with want for him and him alone.

  He looked to the side at the tray on the bed. “I can be a very nice guy when you don’t disappoint me.”

  I glanced at the serving tray, noting a plate of grilled chicken and tomatoes topping linguine
in Alfredo sauce. A small jar of greenish yellow gel was placed next to the familiar flowers. That wasn’t all; a small piece of chocolate was placed right next to the flower. When I looked back at him, he winked at me. “The salve will make your stomach feel a little better. You can use it anywhere else you feel pain. My kindness better go unpunished, Keaton.”

  While I was stuck in confusion, I tossed my head to the other side. I didn’t want him to see that on top of stirring up everything I’d thought I knew; he had thrown me fully into uncertainty. I…couldn’t look at him. Every time I looked at him I remembered his fingers inside of me…on me…touching me.

  “I like it when you’re quiet,” he said, nearing me. “That is, when I’m not torturing you.” He held his arms on either side of my head, imprisoning me against the wall. “Or making you come.” His teeth sank into his bottom lip as his eyes became smoldering. “Is it replaying in your head over and over again? I bet it is.”

  I felt the warmth of his hand against my neck. Instead of remembering to revolt, I didn’t. I warmed to his touch; my shudders began to wane. The sensation between my thighs began to sizzle and ache for him to touch me again.

  “There we go, princess. It’s happening already, isn’t it? It was almost too easy. Makes me wonder if I was right about what happened.” His eyes shot down my body, taking their time to drift to me. “When you saw me, you wanted me to do very dirty little things to your body, didn’t you? You wanted them so badly you came for me hard and fast like the obedient woman I know you can be.”

  Winking, his hand slipped down, tracing the outline of my breasts and touching a sensitive spot I didn’t know I had, the curve of my waist. “Having me as a friend is your best chance at survival.” He jerked my chin to face him, pressing his lips toward me, almost to a kiss.

  “I thought you didn’t want to be my friend.” My lips parted without my permission, inviting him to go through with what he intended.

  “I changed my mind,” he said with a skewed smirk. He abruptly released me, snickering to himself. “You’re going to be more fun than I thought you were, Keaton. I’m touched.” He clutched his heart, the sarcasm in the moment became so thick it could be sliced thinly and served as sustenance. “How badly are you aching for me to fuck you right now?”