I snapped. I pushed her up against the wall, smashing her back against the rough plaster. She was bigger than me, but she was off-guard, and there was that in her makeup that when I barked at her to stay where I'd forced her, she did it.
Her body trembled.
I tried not to notice it. I didn't know if it was fear or desire. I took out the cat o' nine tails I'd bought once to tease her. I'd seen the look in her eyes - how could I not? And yet I never thought this would actually happen.
I swung it. Electricity sparked over her skin as it made contact. I saw her arm twinge as it pulsed through her. I saw her face contort.
I couldn't watch it.
Turn around! I yelled, and my voice seemed to me someone else's, coming from somewhere far away, and filled with anger.
She turned. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't.
Her back was displayed to me, covered partly by her dress. Well-toned muscles, fair skin. Moments later, scratch marks adorned it, left there by the claws of the cat in my hand. Served her right for joking about animals in forests. Didn't it?
I ignored the gasps. The winces. She pressed her body against the wall as I struck her again, harder. This time it didn't scratch, it gouged, tearing material with it, tearing the straps asunder. I hated that dress.
She tried to hold it up. Hypocritical prude. Hadn't she wanted me to rip her clothes off? Coming onto me like a slut but pretending she wasn't.
She cringed, almost as if she could hear my accusing thoughts. I hadn't said it out loud, had I?
There was blood on her back. It wasn't until I'd hit her again, and again, that I realised I was doing it. Tearing gashes in that back that she often displayed to me. I wasn't accurate. Why would I be? Her arms were getting hit too. Electric sparks dancing on her ripped flesh as her body jerked and squirmed against the wall.
I wondered if she was pretending the wall was Him. Or me?
Maybe this was too merciful. Didn't she always say harder?
I took out another whip. Spoke the command word. Flames sprang to life on it. If she realised what I had, she didn't react. Not until I slashed it across her back, the flame incinerating the wound beneath it. No blood now.
But reactions. Hot, she said, through clenched teeth, as if I couldn't guess. Idiot. I struck her again. Harder. Had to make the stupid bitch pay, didn't I? The flame ripped through the dress. The cat followed, leaving its scratches where the flame had already worked.
You like that!
I'm still not sure if it was a question, or a statement, or an expression of disgust.
She clenched her fists as she howled. She pressed herself harder against the wall.
Worse, she nodded.
I hit her harder. Flame, cat. You like that! Here's some more! The falls of the cat o' nine tails wrap around her arm, sending electricity jolting through it. She jumps, dropping the dress in her effort to protect her arm, the torn and burnt material falling.
I look at her body from behind. My eyes trace the curves I've never seen this revealed before. My whip cracks on her back. The tails on her ass, punishing it for making me want it. I watch the way she jerks as the electricity sparks through her. I hear her scream. She throws her head back, the way my wife would when we were in bed. Pervert. Sick, twisted pervert.
Her? Or me?
She hisses. I look down. Blood runs down one shin. I look at my whip. It matches.
You want some of this? The other leg matches now. My hands are trembling as I swing with the cat again. I'll give you some, and more!
She looks back at me.
Those warm brown eyes meet mine. I see her wince as the tails catch her legs again.
And she still looks at me.
For that moment, I think I'm in more pain than she is.
I pretend not to notice the tears on her cheeks.
Look at the wall!
I hit her again. I don't know where. Anywhere. Everywhere. I want to make her feel the way I feel.
But it only drives so long. My arms tire. My heart tires.
I tire, and I stop. I watch her shaking. She seems so small now. I look at the tools in my hand, then up to her ripped flesh. Did I do that?
She hasn't turned round.
Ilden?
The whip and the cat clatter to the ground. I follow, dropping to my knees, as if begging for forgiveness from whichever God may hear my plea. I see the tears falling to the floor.. I bury my head in my hands.
Ilden...?!
I feel her moving more than I see it, her warmth in front of me, closing the physical gap even as I realise we'll never close the mental gap.
Oh Ilden, I'm so sorry..
What have I done...? I can't raise my voice above a murmur. I wish I could. Perhaps it would rouse me from this nightmare.
I feel her fingers in my hair, stroking it. The gentleness towards me - towards her abuser - seems perverse.
What I wanted?