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"Da…Dahlia?" She furrowed her brow, but a moment later broke into sobs. "Save me. Cut me loose. Please god, get me out of here." Her voice was thick and snotty from crying.
"I can’t," I muttered, barely able to look into her eyes.
"What do you mean?" she shrieked out at me.
Before I could answer Sam interrupted us.
Bong. "Dahlia Belrose, before you is Claudia Pressman. Your coworker. From the pages of your diary and from her own social media posts she is a whore. A slut who is free with her body to any man who is willing to give her money. She’s even a registered user on a site called I Need a Sugar Daddy. These women help to push the narrative that females are only here for pleasure. Today you will show her the error of her ways, and take from her the one thing that she gives to others so freely."
Claudia’s eyes bulged as he spoke. I made the mistake of looking at her. When she saw me make eye contact, she shook her head furiously. "Don’t. Please. Don’t hurt me, Dahlia." Her sobs began again.
I didn’t bother responding to her. Instead, I kept my head down and waited on Sam to tell me what to do.
"To your right there is a table," Sam went on. "Open the drawer and you will see the tool you are to use to punish her. It should be fairly self explanatory," Sam said, and I could hear the dry humor in his voice.
He was enjoying this. Maybe he always had. Was this something he’d hidden from Drake? It wasn’t only the punishment of those who deserved it that he got off on, hell, I couldn’t even fault that. The same pleasure slid through my body when I hurt people who deserved it. It was pain and punishment of anyone that Sam enjoyed, whether they were guilty or not. He was no better than the fucking pieces of shit who’d taken my innocence for years. In that moment of understanding, I swore to myself that I’d make him pay. I’d make him suffer the way Branson and my father had suffered. If he knew what was good for him, he’d better start praying that I never got the chance.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I strode over to the table, ignoring Claudia’s tearful begging, and opened the drawer. Seeing what was inside, my guts went cold. Ice water flooded through my veins. I couldn’t do this. Not this. Claudia was a bitch to me, but she’d never physically hurt me. Who gave a damn if she liked to fuck a bunch of random guys or get paid for giving hand jobs and blow jobs at the strip club. Two consenting adults could do whatever they wanted to each other. Why the hell should I care if she sat on some old guy's dick and he bought her things as a thank you. If she’d actually done something awful, I would have done it. I would have gladly done it. Fuck, I probably would have gotten wet as she screamed, but this? No. It was one step too far.
Taking a step back from the table, I crossed my arms defiantly. "Nope. Sorry. Not doing it."
"Excuse me?" Sam said, a dangerous edge sharpened his voice.
Claudia was sobbing with relief on the table.
"You fucking heard me, you piece of shit. I’m not doing this to someone who doesn’t deserve it. I shouldn’t have hurt Clint either, but I’m stronger now. I’m not afraid of you anymore. Fuck you and fuck the horse you rode in on too," I spat.
Silence. No response. The first ten or fifteen seconds I wondered whether he had been shocked into speechlessness by my outburst. Then a full minute went by, then a second minute. That was when worry blossomed in my heart. What was taking him so long to respond? Jesus Christ, was he actually coming down to this room?
My mind flashed with imaginative ways Sam could finally punish me with his own two hands. A chainsaw to the stomach? An ax to the back of the head? Slather me in god damned peanut butter and let some starving dogs devour me?
"Let me out, Dahlia?" Claudia eventually whispered, her voice raw from crying.
"There’s no point until we know what he’s doing. Now shut the fuck up," I said in response.
A few minutes later, our wait was over. The door clicked open, and in walked Payton, looking terrified.
"Oh shit," I muttered.
"What’s, uh, what’s going on?" he asked. "Sam told me to get here as fast as I could."
Bong. "Welcome, Payton. Dahlia is refusing a direct order."
Payton looked at me, eyes as big as saucers. "You said no?" His voice low and terrified.
"Indeed she did," Sam went on. "As the young lady on the table still needs punishment, I summoned you. I will…deal with Dahlia afterward."
"Can I leave then?" I asked.
"No," Claudia screeched. "What did I do wrong?"
Her whole body went red as she fought against the ties binding her. Dark blue veins shone on the mounds of her breasts from the strain, but it was no use. She slumped back and cried more, tears and snot making her face slick.
"You will not leave, Dahlia," Sam said. "The first part of your punishment is to watch. Should you try to interfere, I will simply shock you to death.
"Payton? Your punishment tool is in the drawer of the table. I grow tired of this, proceed and finish this. Now."
He shuffled over, passing me and heading to the table. My fists clenched and shook at my sides. Rage, disgust, and dread flooded through me. Impotence over what was about to happen made me sick.
