53. Her Turn
FIFTY-THREE
Her Turn
MELISSA
Melissa stopped flinching in response to the screams coming from the other end of the dungeon. When Scott grew bored whipping the hooded man, the poor man sagged against the metal cuffs. Blood seeped down his wrists. His back—his poor, tortured flesh—was a mass of raised welts and angry red lines. In contrast, Scott bounced on the balls of his feet as if the whipping invigorated him.
Pierce stepped away from the woman sobbing against the wall. Her back mirrored that of the man, raised welts, red and angry, laced her skin. He guided her back to her cage, whispering praise.
Melissa would have shed more tears if not for her ex-husband’s coal dark eyes staring at her.
“I’m ready for her,” he said, pointing a finger.
Pierce glanced over his shoulder, his magnetic gaze stealing her attention from Scott. With a nod, he came toward her. He reached for her, and it took all of her self-control not to flinch at his touch. She was surprised at the warmth of his skin and the gentleness of his touch when he cupped her chin.
“Are you ready, my Queen?”
His throaty whisper made her breath hitch in her throat. She had to swallow before she could speak, dreading the words, but knowing she had to play a role. It might be the only thing that saved her from Scott.
“Is this what you want…m-my King?”
His brow quirked at the use of his self-proclaimed title. She was hoping for a reaction, uncertain what she needed. She was figuring everything out as she went.
“It’s what must be done,” he said with remorse. “Only then can you be forgiven.”
Melissa licked her lips. Her mouth had gone dry, and her lips seemed to want to stick together. She forced her gaze to drop, just barely submissive, but not surrendered, at least not yet.
“I’m terrified.” The words cracked in her throat.
His forehead furrowed as he leaned down. “It will be painful, but you will endure this punishment. Do you understand?”
She took in a deep breath and let it out. Slowly, she allowed her gaze to travel up to meet his once again. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”
“I will be by your side, my Queen.” He ran his thumb along her cheek, traced the angle of her jaw, and brought his finger to her lips.
“Hey, you going to talk all night, or what?” Scott’s harsh words intruded on her moment with Pierce.
She lost what little ground she had gained when Pierce started at Scott’s irritating words.
Pierce shook his head. He pointed to the wall with the implements. “Use the light cane on the far left. I’ll move her into position.”
Her ability to keep still failed as a shiver worked its way down her spine and nervous sweat made her hands clammy and cold. Her hips and knees ached from the prolonged flexion in the bindings, but that was nothing compared to the flare of agony in her shoulders.
Pierce swept her into his arms and carried her without strain, unlike her husband, who struggled to hold her.
“I will be with you the entire time, my Queen.” His whispered words floated into her ears said so low she imagined she heard them until he continued. “I will protect you. You must endure ten strikes. Will you please me?”
She needed to draw out his protective instinct. So, she did the unthinkable. She gave him a nod. It was a calculated move, but what choice did she have? She could go with the evil she knew and die or see where this secondary evil took her.
Pierce was a collector of women and, unlike her husband, seemed to keep his playthings around. Years if she were to believe what Henrietta had said. If it took years, Melissa would find her way free. As long as she was alive, she would fight.
“Don’t leave me alone with him,” she whispered and pressed her cheek against his shirt. “Please? I can’t do this alone.”
His breathing hitched, paused for a beat. A deep breath followed, and she imagined his chest swelled with pride. He kissed her forehead, and she struggled not to pull back from the intimate touch.
“I will be with you, my Queen. I will never leave you.”
“Thank you.” She lifted her wrists, both hands rising together, bound as they were, and fluttered her fingertips against the buttons of his shirt.
The walk from the bed to the padded bench ended, and with it, their short conversation died. Pierce became businesslike, almost robotic in his motions. He draped her face down over the bench. She flinched as pressure was put on her bruised ribs. He allowed her to reposition herself for comfort, an odd consideration in light of what was to come. Then, he released her ankles from their bindings, but only to strap them down again, securing each ankle to a leg of the bench. The same treatment followed with her hands.
Melissa’s breathing turned ragged as fear overrode her instinct for survival.
“Do not fight, my Queen. It will only make it worse.” Pierce placed a hand to her hip as he fastened a strap over her back.
“Aren’t you going to strip her,” Scott demanded.
She hoped he would not. Her jeans were her last defense against the long rattan cane Scott would use.
“I am not,” Pierce said.
He came around to stand at her head, but she didn’t lift to look at him. She couldn’t. He knelt down, putting his head level with hers, forcing the issue with that movement.
Melissa wriggled her hands. Pierce had secured them to the legs of the bench. She had to develop his trust. “Please, release my hands.”
“No.”
She would not let that phase her. “Please…my King,” she winced as the title passed her lips, but it was necessary. She flipped the hair out of her eyes and focused on his chin and the set of his mouth. The strength to look into his eyes was beyond her.
“I need you to hold my hands while…he does this.”
Begging her tormentor to comfort her during this crazed beating made no sense, but there was nothing about the entire situation that made sense. His jaw clenched. It was a tiny gesture, but it was enough.
He spoke into her ear. “You must not flinch or jerk your hands from mine. You can injure yourself if you do. If you move your hands to protect yourself, you will be hurt.”
She understood from personal experience and her one and only experience with Scott and a cane. Only then she’d been alone. Now she had Pierce, and she would be damned if he wasn’t going to help her survive this.
“Thank you.” She also wasn’t above begging. Melissa brought her gaze up to meet his and met smoky darkness in their depths. It chilled her to her core to look upon such madness.
He released her wrists and lifted her hands to his lips. One kiss to each knuckle. She held still the entire time. Behind them, Scott whipped the cane through the air, as if testing its weight. She flinched with eachswish, not knowing when the first blow would strike.
“Whenever you are ready.” Pierce grabbed her hands, lacing his fingers with hers. The disdain in his voice was thinly veiled by the very real threat overlying it. “Ten strikes.”
“I got it,” Scott said. “Ten isn’t even a drop in the bucket for what she deserves, but knowing she’ll never see the light of day again is punishment enough.”
The cane whistled through the air, struck her flesh, and cut right to the bone. Screams flew from her mouth, and her hands clenched around Pierce’s grip.
He whispered into her ear, telling her to breathe, to take the pain, and coached her through that first strike.
“Oh, that was perfect, my love,” Scott said.
If she was to be free of this place, she needed Pierce to trust her and keep her unchained. Melissa gripped his hands tighter, moaned against the searing pain in her backside as she prepared for the second strike.
It came sooner than she expected and before she could brace herself. Another scream ripped from her throat.
All the while, Pierce told her to absorb the pain, breathe it in. She locked eyes with him and did as he commanded. Somehow the pain flowed through her to him, and she breathed past it. There was power in his gaze, and crazy energy flowed between them. He took her pain. Without him, she never would have survived ten strikes from the cane, but she did survive, and that was all that mattered.
When Pierce released her from the bench, he carried her back to the massive bed. He reached up and tugged on a chain hanging from the canopy above the bed. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I am so proud of you, My Queen.”
He turned to Scott. “Let’s head upstairs and refresh ourselves.”
Scott sneered as he passed the bed. “She’s a fucking bitch. Useless in bed, and you’re welcome to her.”
“I will claim her when we return, but we need to discuss your plans for leaving. Besides, it’s dinner time, and I’m hungry.”
Scott’s eyes widened. “I’m not done. I want to fuck some more.”
“You have all night. No reason to rush. Besides, you’ll be stronger after a meal, and I’m curious how you intend to leave town.”
Pierce led Scott toward the dungeon door. He stooped over to unlock the set of six locks that secured them all inside.
Six locks. Melissa groaned as the door closed behind her kidnapper and ex-husband. Then she looked down and gasped.
He’d left her hands unbound.