6. Willa
Chapter 6
Willa
M y body throbbed in misery, every movement sending needle-like pains through the tender, flayed skin of my back and shoulders. It was hard to focus on how to escape when every move was so painful. But I really needed to find a way because that guy was not fucking around. I figured admitting I wasn’t Lily would be my saving grace, in terms of torture, if not death.
Wrong.
I imagined that most people, when caught and accused of heinous crimes, immediately claimed that they had the wrong person. He wouldn’t listen to me, no matter how vehemently I protested that this was a case of mistaken identity. Since he already thought I was a murderer, lying was pretty small potatoes in comparison.
What I needed was evidence. I needed to prove I wasn’t Lily. This would be easy enough if I had my license or student ID on me, but it didn’t seem as if my captor was prepared to give me the benefit of the doubt while I ran back to Lily’s apartment and grabbed my wallet.
But I had to find a way to convince him, and maybe if I explained how I planned to prove it, he would let me try.
My stomach rumbled, and I was almost glad for the pain in my back because it kept my mind off how hungry I was. I wasn’t sure what time it was or how long I’d been here, but I could tell it had been a long time since I’d eaten. I was also getting a cold, now only wearing a small pair of shorts in the dark, cool environment of the room that was rapidly coming to feel like a prison cell.
I shook my head, jerking my mind away from my own suffering and trying to focus on a script that would make him listen to me. Something that would get his attention, something that would irrefutably prove my innocence.
I was still trying to figure it out when the door banged open, causing me to jump, then groaned as pain lanced across my back. I couldn’t see him, but I heard his footsteps as he approached the side of the bed. He kicked the bed frame, causing my muscles to tense and my skin to tighten painfully.
“So, have you reconsidered? Are you willing to talk?” His voice was gruff and hostile. Not exactly the demeanor I was hoping for. He stood just out of my line of sight, but I could clearly imagine the cold, angry expression that was probably on his face.
“Yes, I’ll talk. I am Lily’s sister, Willa. I’m not Lily.”
I felt like I could hear his teeth grinding as tension filled the air. “You think I’ve never heard this excuse before? You were in Lily’s apartment, you had Lily’s license on you, and you look exactly like pictures of Lily. I’m not new to this shit. We know it’s you.”
Oh my god, the fucking ID! I forgot all about that and now they had it as some kind of confirmation of my false identity. Lily’s one act of seeming generosity had backfired on me catastrophically. I should have known.
“She gave me that! She told me to meet her at her apartment! She—” Before I could finish my explanations, he shoved a ball gag that I didn’t realize he was holding in my mouth.
I screamed behind the gag, trying to get him to take it off and listen, but instead he straddled me, his knees on either side of my hips, his hands on either side of my head, caging me in.
“You aren’t getting it. I’m not going to listen to this bullshit. If I need to work you over some more to get you to understand how fucking serious I am, I’ll fucking do it.” The sinister tone of his voice as he whispered in my ear sent chills down my spine and caused a renewed round of protesting behind the gag.
“Shut the fuck up. You had your chance to talk and you fucking blew it.”
He got off me and I tracked him as he walked to the large wardrobe. Since he pulled the whip out of that thing earlier, I didn’t have high hopes about what he might be getting now.
He walked back holding what looked like a thin, wooden rod and a shorter whip with a lot of tassels. Why hadn’t I read or watched Fifty Shades of Grey? Then I would know what all this shit was.
“I’m going to remove the gag, but you better shut the fuck up and just take it. I don’t want to hear anything about how you’re not Lily and this is just some big fucking mistake. By the time I’m done, I guarantee you’ll be more than willing to tell me anything I want to know.”
He mercifully removed the gag, and I rotated my jaw in order to release the discomfort. I wanted to scream at him to reconsider, to just check out what I said, but I was too afraid he’d do something worse than he was already planning.
I was pulled out of my thoughts by the feel of him grabbing the loose waistband of my shorts and roughly tugging them down with my underwear to my knees.
Oh, god. Oh no, no, no, no.
I tried to pull my legs together, but the damned shackles kept them slightly apart. I opened my mouth to beg him not to do any of the hundreds of horrible acts that were racing through my mind.
“I’m not doing what you’re thinking, so calm the fuck down.”
I closed my mouth and collapsed on the bed in gratitude, although it was short lived considering having one’s pants pulled down without their permission rarely had a positive outcome.
The first strike of the tasseled whip jolted me, making me wince as my movement pulled on the lacerated skin on my back.
The heat of the tassels warmed my ass, but it wasn’t the same burning fire of the first whip. Instead of pausing and asking me to talk like before, he just kept striking different parts of my ass and upper thighs.
I kept waiting for it to really hurt, and it did sting like nettles, but the pain was bearable. He laid smack after smack on my ass, the heat building and building. I was alarmed to discover the sensations transforming, the burn and sting started to feel kind of…good?
This overload of low-grade pain had caused my brain to short circuit its wiring, confusing pain for pleasure and a strange sort of hazy bliss started to enfold me. I fought the heavy relaxation that was bearing down on me. Was this a trick or a mind fuck or something?
Every once in a while, he’d stop and rub some of the areas most impacted by the tasseled leather and it would shoot my euphoria up another notch, before resuming his relentless motion.
Each strike sent a ripple of vibrations through my body, sending strange pleasure to different areas. Specifically, I was mortified to realize, the area between my legs and causing it to grow damp. Was it supposed to do that?
My embarrassment was starting to crowd into my blissed-out state, uneasy at how turned on I was getting, wishing I could press my thighs together to stop the vibrating ricochets the whip was rolling through my body, most especially through my nether regions. My nearly exposed nether regions. It was so humiliating.
I squirmed slightly and glanced at him, hoping something in his expression would give me some insight about what he was up to. Unfortunately, his beautiful face was still set in the same grim lines as he focused all of his attention on my fiery backside, his arm rising and falling in an almost hypnotizing rhythm.
I tried to concentrate on the heat and sting, the tinges of pain that surrounded this whole experience. I even tried to bring my attention to my back and the soreness there, but it was no use. I shifted and squirmed as arousal continued to build. My breathing became staggered and ragged. I turned my face into the mattress, hiding my flushed cheeks and embarrassed face.
I couldn’t believe this. If someone had told me that being whipped with a bunch of leather strands would be something I’d not only not hate, but actually get off on, I would have said they were crazy. But here I was—writhing and twisting under the steady cadence of the whip, my body in flames. I could feel wetness growing between my legs, but I had decided to steadfastly ignore it and pray that my tormentor didn’t notice it either. He would surely stop and move on to something far more torturous if he became aware.
I dared a quick glance at the man wielding the whip and quickly found myself entranced watching him raise and drop his arm, the hard muscles in his arm flexing, his jaw tight as his gaze stayed focused on my hot, reddened flesh. There was something erotic about watching him, something carnal that kept me mesmerized. My gaze dropped to his pants and I nearly gasped at the large outline against the front of his jeans. I was almost relieved to see that this was turning him on as well.
I was so focused on watching him and feeling drugged with endorphins, I didn’t notice the moan bubbling up in my chest until it escaped my lips. I bit my lip to stop any other noises that might escape as his head jerked in my direction, his expression still forbidding.
What was wrong with me? Was his game to show me how depraved I was? I quickly buried my face in the mattress to hide my embarrassment, praying he wouldn’t notice my reaction and decide to do something more painful to me.
The slapping of the whip abruptly stopped, and I couldn’t help looking up to see what he was doing. He walked up and rubbed a rough hand across my scorched flesh, then shot me a hard glance, his green eyes skating over my features, focusing his eyes on where my teeth still clenched my lower lip in an attempt to control the unbidden sounds that were unfortunately, trying to escape my mouth.
His green gaze still held mine as his hand moved between my legs, sliding through the copious wetness that had gathered between them. I hissed and shoved my face back into the mattress, unable to tolerate the gloating look he would no doubt be sporting at my humiliation. One large finger slid up and swirled against my clit, causing me to emit a yelp, then groan of pleasure.
He clamped my clit between two fingers, then gave my backside another series of slaps with his hand, perhaps having thrown the whip to the floor or on the bed. I tensed and cringed, imagining the stinging slaps would be excruciating against the heated skin of my ass, but I was wrong—so, so wrong. There was something euphoric and titillating about the combination of his fingertips rolling my clit and his hand, big as a paddle, swatting again and again.
While I was attempting to merge myself into the mattress springs and pretend this wasn’t happening, unfortunately, my vagina had not received the message and it continued to press against his fingers, desperately seeking the pleasure those clamped fingers were teasing. My hips started to grind and lift, attempting to finish myself and end my torment, but my captor wasn’t having any of that.
He quickly pulled his hand away and I was chagrined to hear a groan of protest leave my lips as I once again buried my face in the mattress. Where was my dignity?
I braced myself, preparing for who knew what, but nothing happened. Nothing happened for so long, I once again glanced up only to find him staring either at my backside or between my legs, his hands in tight fists and his jaw clenched. I’d made him angry. Furious. I had no idea what I’d done.
I opened my mouth to say…I had no idea what.
“Don’t,” he said harshly and grabbed the wooden rod off the floor.
I shut my mouth and rested my head on the mattress simultaneously curious and terrified about what he was going to do with this new implement.
He pressed a strong hand against the lower part of my back, just below a welt he’d left earlier and just above my ass. What the hell was he doing? I twisted my head and saw him raise his hand with the wooden rod in it and slam it down on my ass.
Before I could register the pain completely, screams were already flying out of my mouth. I thought the first whipping had hurt, but it was nothing compared to the absolute burning agony of the wooden rod against my ass. It left a deep ache that felt like he’d taken a blow torch to my ass. As I saw his arm raise again, I twisted and screamed in an attempt to escape another strike.
“No, no, no, please. Oh god, please, I swear, I’m not Lily. Please, I’ll never be able to tell you anything no matter how many times you hit me with that thing. Please, please don’t hit me again, please,” I was crying and blubbering like a lunatic, my body in a weird state of shock from the pain of his last strike, my ass feeling practically blistered where he’d hit me.
He stared at me. He still looked angry, but he also looked speculative. His lips pressed together, and he threw the rod down on the bed and took a step back, as if I’d thrown him a curve ball by telling him I wasn’t Lily, though I already told him that many times before.
I opened my mouth to say it again, thinking maybe I was actually convincing him, but he frowned at me.
“Don’t say a word.”
I quickly shut my mouth, fearful he’d pick up the rod again. Before I could figure out what he was going to do next, he stomped to the door and stormed out.
Great, now I was lying here with my pants to my knees, no shirt, whipped, spanked, and hit with a wood rod.
At least I wasn’t turned on anymore.