“Yes.”
She smiles tightly. “Here you go. You have five minutes.” She hands me a standard-sized index card.
I read through it quickly as my skin turns pale.
How?
I’m going to kill Liesel. She had to have told someone who I am and about my past. That’s the only way they could have picked out this specific challenge for me. Although, I stupidly gave my real name and made it simple for them to find me.
The card is basically all of my fears thrown into one twisted game.
They know I was beaten as a kid.
And that’s exactly what I have to do—beat another and then get beaten while climaxing.
Who thinks up these sick challenges?
I glance up in the corner of the room, looking for a camera, but I find none. My eyes cut around the room; the wall seems completely flat. I don’t see any indication of a camera, but there must be one somewhere.
The man who is partnered with me sits on the edge of the bed. He wasn’t given any instructions. He doesn’t know what my challenge is.
I have less than five minutes to decide if I’m going to do this task or not.
Liesel, what did you do? What horror will your task be?
She’ll do it, whatever it is. She’s done it before. This round can’t be any worse than what she’s already done.
Why?
What the hell am I missing? There has to be easier ways to get money.
I close my eyes in thought. I’m already going to hell; what difference does it make if I do this? This man is a man, not a boy. He can say his safe word and stop. This is for millions of dollars. This is to stop Liesel. This is for so much more…
When I open my eyes, it’s like the room has transformed.
Smoke has started to billow in, making it hard for me to see anything except a small table that has been placed in front of me with a man’s belt lying on it.
They couldn’t even give me a whip; they had to give me a belt—my father’s tool of choice.
You can do this. This is just like any other time you’ve beaten a criminal for information. This will be no different. The man who is playing isn’t a good person. If he was, he wouldn’t be here.
I walk over to the table with the belt. There is a single white card attached to it. I yank it off.
20 lashings with the belt.
20 with your fist.
Repeat until he breaks, until he uses his safe word.
Fuck.
This is about me or him.
Either I win or he does.
Don’t show weakness. You’re giving a grown man a lashing—something you experienced nightly as a child.
Liesel was right; I’ll be living through hell. As much as I don’t want to do the first part, the second part is what is going to fuck with my mind. The second part is going to try and twist my worst nightmare with sex. I may never be able to fuck normally again.