Reed pulls my pants down as I flatten my hands out on the table, leaning over to present my ass. He swings the whip softly, barely grazing my cheek.
“Is that what you call-” I say, looking to goad him, but he needs no encouragement. His next swing comes right away, cutting off my taunt, and scalds my ass hard. I shriek and shake, stunned by the sudden pain.
“Blatant disobedience. Ten lashes,” he says. “Count them, Quinn.”
“Yes, sir,” I grunt, wincing as my skin burns.
Reed’s next four strokes hurt just as bad. By the time I gasp, “Four!” I’m already tearing up. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me too, watching my reactions — all except Jacquelyn, who I stare down. Her eyes stay shut, her lips raised in smug contentment.
After the first four swings, the rest get progressively harder, leaving my ass smoldering. By the tenth, the aches arc across my whole body. My knees shake and my palms sweat — and my pussy clenches in yearning.
“Very good, Quinn,” Reed says, massaging my ass. “Get back to work.”
Moaning softly from the pain, I take my seat and resume my sewing.
“You too, bitch,” he adds, nudging Jacqueline’s shoulder. She grumbles, but sits up and obeys.
Then, after less than a minute, Amber shoves a stack of fabric off her table and yanks the thread from her sewing machine. “I’m taking a vacation day,” she mumbles.
Reed turns to me and waves his hand up, gesturing for me to rise. “Blatant disobedience. Ten lashes,” he says.
I lower my pants and brace myself. This is going to be a long day.
Chapter 24
I can’t remember if every single prisoner takes a turn earning me a whipping, but I feel like they did. Very little work gets done that day, as many of the women opt to nap or rest while watching my many whippings. The show keeps them occupied, barely paying attention to their work, so by the end of the day we’re far below quota. I get punished for that too.
When it’s over, my body is so sore, Reed has to carry me. Every step reawakens an ache that had finally subsided. My ass bears the worst of it, of course, but the pain feels like it’s coming from everywhere.
Then there’s the throbbing in my warmth, the itch I haven’t been able to scratch, the hunger that refuses to be ignored. Enduring my need for release has been just as difficult as the whippings. Wherever Reed is taking me now it better be to give me some release. As we get closer, I recognize the area: it’s the wing where Jefferson’s private room is located.
“Can you stand?” he asks me as he opens a door to one of the rooms. Like Jefferson’s, it reminds me of a hotel, a very nice one: spacious, warm and decorated with stylish, modern furniture. The queen-sized bed, covered in fluffy pillows and blankets, calls to me.
“No,” I grunt, though I could, I just really don’t want to.
“Are you okay?” he asks, carefully carrying me inside and shutting the door behind him.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, cringing as he sets me down on the soft, cream-colored bed. Lying on my stomach helps alleviate some of the pain, but it’ll be a long time before it goes away completely. Carefully, he slips his hands into my pants and pulls them down to my ankles. Exposure to the room’s cool air feels good as I bury my face against the floral-scented linens.
Reed opens up a cabinet drawer and takes out a bottle of some kind of liquid. He squirts some into his hand, then rubs the bruises and welts on my ass. Soothed by the ointment, I sigh in relief.
“Better?”
“A bit, thanks. I’m still really sore.”
Grinning, he takes hold of my thighs and spreads my legs. “Maybe I can distract you from the rest.”
It’s about damn time. My engine has been idling for hours.
“Damn, you’re so fucking wet, Quinn. It’s been like this all day, hasn’t it?
“Mostly,” I admit, my cheeks flushing.
“Freak,” he chuckles.
“Screw y-” A gasp ends my retort as Reed’s tongue invades my crevice. I cover my mouth with a hand, moaning into it with abandon. After what I’ve been through today, this feels so good, especially since all I have to do is lie here and enjoy it.
Electrifying my senses with long, hard strokes, he pins me down tightly, ensuring I can’t squirm too much. At first I don’t mean to, but when he starts working my clit, the overwhelming euphoria makes me wrench against his grip. His tongue circles the sensitive spot first slowly, then quickly, driving me wild. Reed varies his speed and technique, stimulating me close to the point of climaxing, but always pulling back before I get there.