When I don’t respond, he slaps the leather against my skin harder, and it fucking burns. But again, I don’t make a sound. Judge should know I’ve been through much worse. The scars are evidence of that. He thinks he can break me, but I’ve already been broken. I just refuse to let the world know it.

Slap. The leather hisses against my ass, and he grunts, picking up the rhythm, working both sides as he twists left to right, swinging the crop behind him. From my periphery, I can see his muscles straining as he loses himself to the moment, and if I were watching him in any other circumstance, I would think it’s almost inhumanly beautiful the way he moves. As the thought occurs to me, I realize how deranged it is. But I’ve taken many beatings in my life. None of them were measured or well controlled. None of them were beautiful in any way. They were ugly and terrifying. Inexplicably, this time is different, and I don’t know why. I just know I trust that Judge won’t ever take it too far. He’ll push me. He’ll make me uncomfortable. But I don’t believe he’d ever lay a hand on me just to cause me pain. There’s a lesson in everything he does, and right now, the lesson in compliance will be had whether I like it or not.

“Say it,” he grunts. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“Screw you!” I smirk over my shoulder. “That’s why.”

Whack. His crop hits me dead center between my thighs, and it shocks me so violently that I release an ear-piercing scream. The crop clatters to the floor in the aftermath, and Judge stumbles back, staring down at me as if he’s just been doused in ice-cold water.

I release a silent sob as two realizations occur to me at the same time. The first is that he can see all of me right now, and I’m too weak to drag myself up and find even an ounce of dignity. The second is that perhaps I was wrong about him. Perhaps Judge isn’t someone I can trust not to hurt me. Because even though I was more shocked than pained, I’m humiliated, and that’s just as bad, isn’t it?

I bury my face in the floor, trying to hide the moisture clinging to my eyes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it seems as if a dam has opened, and now I can’t stop it.