Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(164)

‘Hard?’ he asks.

‘Very hard.’

‘What about your bra?’ His eyes are fixed firmly on my chest.

‘The bra stays.’

‘Fair enough.’ He nods and saunters over, tucking the handle of the whip in his back pocket. He reaches up to secure my hands in the manacles on the gold suspended frame.

‘Steve, you need to stop.’

‘It’s none of your business.’ I grate.

‘You heard her, she wants this.’ Steve looks up at me with hooded eyes filled with lust, before he starts walking around the back of me.

My heart starts a heavy, steady thump in my chest and I close my eyes, reciting Jesse’s words in my mind.

It’s not possible. It’s not possible. It’s not possible. It’s not possible.

I blank my mind of everything except that, the music fades and I brace myself for my own punishment – my punishment for reducing Jesse to a fraught mess of a man, for making him need alcohol, not just want it, for turning him into an uptight, neurotic freak…for making him do this to himself.

I hear it before I feel it. A fast, sharp whip though the air before it connects with my back. I cry out.

Holy f*cking shit!

The thrash sends a continuous stabbing pain radiating throughout my entire body and my legs turn to jelly. People volunteer themselves for this? I’ve volunteered for this? I keep my eyes firmly shut. It’s only now I realise that we didn’t agree on a number of strikes. I hold my breath and grit my teeth as a second lash falls across my back, and I mentally plead with myself to keep quiet and accept the beating.

I tense myself, waiting for the next hit and when it comes, I release my body, hanging helplessly from the frame. I’m at the complete mercy of this stranger. The fourth, fifth and six thrashes connect at even intervals until I’m familiar with when to expect the strikes, and I’ve completely numbed out what I’m doing. I’m completely crazy. I’m totally unaware of my surroundings, the music is dull in the distance and the voices around me are quiet. The only thing I’m alert of is the timing between each lash and the air whipping before the leather connects with my flesh. I might be unconscious. I’m not sure. I’m not even tensing anymore.

Another thrash connects with my back and I jerk again, my back arching, my head flying back.

‘NOOOOOOOOO!’

The roar I know so well snaps me to the here and now as another burning snap spreads across my back. I buck in shock, the metal restraints clanking loudly above my head. I can’t open my eyes. My head is heavy, my body lifeless and my arms are lacking any blood and feeling in them.

‘Jesus! Ava, no!’ His voice is loud but broken. My body starts swinging slightly, and I feel his warm hands all over me. ‘John, release her hands! Oh, God, no, no, no, no, no, no!’

‘Mother f*cker!’

‘John, f*cking hell, get her down! Ava?’ He sounds terrified. I’m grabbed and stroked all over as I feel the tampering of big, clumsy hands on mine above my head. My arms fall down like lead. I’m limp in his arms. ‘Ava? Oh God, please! Ava?’ I’m vaguely aware of being moved.

And then the pain kicks in.

Oh good God!

My flesh feels like it’s on fire, pain emanating from every single nerve ending across my back and beyond. I’m being shuffled about and I can’t even speak to tell him to stop. I’ve never felt pain like it.

‘Don’t let him go anywhere!’ Jesse’s voice is muffled, but I know who he is talking about and through my haze, I realise that I’ve probably just sent Steve to his death.

I need to stop that. I asked him to do this, although I’m wondering why the hell I did right now. I really am completely crazy, but then I remind myself of the reasons behind this. He might not be so willing to do this to himself if he is faced with me following suit. But will he have a drink, or will he get himself whipped again, anyway? God, I hope not. I don’t think I could do this again. Through my dazed state, I realise I might have just started a really big, vicious circle of punishments. Should I have done this?

My crazy side and my sane side are having an argument in my head, and I can hear Jesse’s thundering footsteps and many shocked gasps as I’m carried through The Manor.

‘What the f*ck!’ Kate’s shocked voice is distant. ‘Jesse?’

He doesn’t answer. All I hear is John’s low rumble fading into the background along with all the commotion that I have caused. I don’t care. A door slams and a few moments later, I feel the sofa beneath his thighs as I’m cradled in his lap.

‘You stupid, stupid girl.’ he sobs on a cracked voice. I feel him buried in my neck, inhaling into my hair and frantically stroking my head. ‘You crazy, stupid girl.’

I drag my eyes open and stare blankly forward across his chest. I’m in so much pain, but I have no desire to move or voice my discomfort. I feel sedated, like I’m floating on the outside, observing this shocking scene from afar. What if my attempts to make Jesse see my point of view fail? What if he does punish himself again? I couldn’t bear to go through this again and not just because I’m in absolute agony – I couldn’t bear to see Jesse on his knees, accepting lashes dished out by Sarah or by anyone, for that matter. Not that I’m ever going to be able to scrub that image from my mind. It will be etched on my brain for as long as I live. Nothing will wipe it away. Nothing.