Page 70 of Drag You Down
I brace myself.
The first lash over my shoulder is far too light to do more than sting. The tails of the flogger caress my skin, but they don’t break it.
It always takes me a few moments to find the courage to swing with real strength.
Two more light lashes. They’re mere taps, nothing like what Father Zachariah metes out.
I close my eyes and strike much harder.
The tails land on my shoulder blade with enough force to make pain blossom. I stifle a groan and swing the flogger again, the leather hitting almost the exact same spot. This time, the stinging pain lingers, radiating out from that spot.
A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead.
I switch arms and hit myself again. The leather curls around my shoulder as it lands, and I open my mouth to breathe. I have to keep my voice down. I can’t let anyone hear.
I swing again, and again, each lash harder than the last. Small groans escape my lips, and my chest grows slick with sweat.
My arms grow tired too, but I keep going, feverish with a need I don’t know how to satisfy.
My cock is hard and throbbing.
I pause to press my hand against it through my trousers.
I remember how Gabriel had cupped me gently.
My little lamb, he’d whispered.
“Daddy,” I say as I swing the flogger once more.
This is wrong.
This isn’t what penance is meant to be.
But my body grows hotter and hotter with arousal as I keep whipping myself, and instead of God or Father Zachariah, I hear Gabriel egging me on, telling me what a good boy I am, what a perfect lamb I am.
I groan as the next lash comes down hard on my shoulder, and I realize that somewhere along the way, I’ve started to bleed. Maybe it’s from opening up other wounds, or maybe it’s from the cheap leather of this flogger cutting into my skin. I don’t know, and I don’t care.
I keep going until my arm hurts too much to continue, then I let the flogger drop to the floor as I sink down to my knees.
I don’t feel purified.
I feel more tainted than ever.
It doesn’t stop me from reaching down into my pants and fondling myself beneath my clothes. I’m about to unfasten my pants when I hear the front door open and close, and I yank my hand back out like I’ve been caught doing something truly terrible.
I haven’t.
I’ve only nearly been caught dealing with the aftermath of something that can’t be forgiven.
I grab the flogger and shove it into the bottom drawer of my dresser, closing it right as the knock sounds on my door.
“Levi?” Eve calls out.
I grab my shirt, my back screaming as I pull it over my head. I know it won’t be long before it becomes wet with my blood, but I have to try to get Eve to leave me alone so I can tend to my wounds in private.
I open the door to my room, wincing, but I paint a smile onto my lips as I look at her. “Hi,” I say feebly, not knowing what else to say to my sister.
Eve looks at me with wide eyes. “Where have you been? What happened to you?”
