“Gladly,” Reed growls, pulling the whip from his belt. “Care to make this easy, Quinn? I promise, whatever happened, you can tell me.”
Listening to him lie, I can’t help cracking a small smile. “If I knew, I’d tell you.”
His lips don’t move, but I see a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Fine, have it your way.” He steps around me, where I can’t see him, but I don’t have to see to know what’s coming: a hard swat, scalding my ass with a loudthwack.
Despite my growing tolerance for pain, I cry out — Reed’s swing wasn’t a warm-up. His next comes quickly, and just as hard. I howl, thrashing against my bonds.
“It’s only going to get worse from here,” he warns, giving my throbbing cheeks a squeeze.
“I can’t… I don’t know.”
Three more slaps paint my ass, each one higher and harder than the last. I howl, bucking and writhing.
He’s really not playing. I get it — this is probably embarrassing for him, or worse, it could have serious consequences. Although, in a twisted way, maybe he’s legitimately angry at whoever did this.
No one hurts Quinn but me, he could be thinking. As fucked up as it is, the idea kinda makes me happy.
“Was it one of the guards?”
When I don’t respond, Reed delivers two harsh slaps, one to each cheek.
“Answer me!”
Fighting back the pain, I wonder how much trouble he’s risking by assuming one of the guards was responsible. In fairness, without Corbin’s help, Jacqueline wouldn’t have gotten a chance. What if Reed isn’t fully aware of what happens in this prison, especially when he’s not around? Do the guards think of him as a member of their pack — the alpha — or is he more like their boss? I wish I knew for sure.
Regardless, I’m not selling out Jacqueline — and I’m not giving Byron, Jefferson and their guest the satisfaction.
“Suck my dick, douchebag,” I grunt.
Reed smacks my ass a few more times, eschewing his whip and using his bare hand. Every touch inflames the existing aches, but that doesn’t bother me. Horrified, I gasp at the slick dripping I feel between my thighs. I’m not surprised it’s happening, but I don’t want anyone to see.
I press my legs together, but it’s too late. The sponsor drives his hands between my thighs and spreads my legs, taking a close look.
“Wow, this bitch is really something,” he says. “A genuine masochist.” He laughs, then lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You must be having a great time here.”
The words are barely out of his mouth when my leg jolts violently, rocketing my knee into his crotch. I make contact with as much force as I can. Mr. R. jerks back, letting out a wheeze as he doubles over.
“Fucking goddamn,” Reed shouts, quickly taking a pair of cuffs out of his pocket and locking them around my ankles. At the same time, Byron flies at me, wrapping a hand around my neck. The skin of his fingers is soft, but he grips with enough strength to choke off my air. Jefferson moves for Mr. R, helping the injured man to his feet.
“You stupid cunt,” Byron snarls. “I should fucking bury you now.”
Reed moves in, pulling at Byron’s hands. “Hey, you can’t,” he says.
Lights are going out, but I smile; I’d laugh, if I could breathe.
“Hey, relax!” Mr. R. shouts. “It’s fine. I’ll be alright.”
Byron lets go of me, then shoves off Reed. “Are you sure?” he asks the sponsor.
He waves off Jefferson, then sets his hands on his hips. “I’ll need a few minutes, but yeah. It’s my fault — I shouldn’t have gotten so close. She’s really feisty, huh?”
“You have no idea,” I say. “Unchain me and I’ll show you.”
Mr. R. chuckles. “Another time, hellcat. Byron, can we talk about Hayden?”
“Of course,” the warden replies. “An excellent choice, though she’s not going to be cheap.”
“That’s not going to be a problem. I settle for nothing less than the best.”