Page 11 of Lonely
“There’s a good boy,” she said as I handed it to her. “You know you need to repent, son.”
Turning slowly, with a thick lump in my throat, I eased my pants down to my thighs. Mother started whistling again as she waited for me to bend over.
The first smack was always the worst, striking my bottom like a sharp lash.
“Say it,” she commanded, whacking me again, the impact forcing a grunt from my throat.
“I’m a sinner.”
“Again. Louder this time.”
“I’m a sinner!”
“Yes, you are, you filthy boy. You’re a disappointment to the Almighty God.”
Her whistling picked back up, and I braced for the buckle.
My skin screamed, but I knew better than to flinch. Beneath the sting, rage boiled so hot it almost felt good.
My knees nearly gave out when it broke the skin, but Mother wasn’t done.
Mother was only getting started.
Days later, my bottom was still sore.
When they finally dropped Carter into my chair, he was drugged to the nines. I took in the sight of him and his ruffled hair and creased clothing. Anna wrung her hands.
Her shoulder-length hair was down that day, the blonde ends sculpted into retro curls that stopped just shy of her jaw. She looked like a pinup girl with that hairstyle and those bright red lips.
“He was reluctant to come see you today, Doctor. We had to subdue him.”
I lifted a brow in response. Anna flushed pink and worried that plump, blood-red lip with her teeth. The urge to strike her flared up, but I had to refrain unless I wanted trouble at work. Still, the thought was . . . stimulating. Anna would have looked so pretty with my handprint on her cheek, especially if she cried and tried to run like a frightened little rabbit.
“It’s fine,” I said instead and felt a stirring below when she lifted her uncertain gaze to mine.
She took her leave, and I stepped behind Carter, watching him struggle to lift his head. I liked him pliant.
A gruff sound slipped out of him when I grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back.
“How are we today, Carter? Did you miss me?”
His heavy eyes fought to focus on mine as I drank in the sight of him—his growing scruff, those sinful lips.
I bent down, crushed my mouth to his, and bit his bottom lip hard when he started to resist. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, and I groaned at the pleasure of having him like this. All mine.
It was a shame I couldn’t take him home and bathe him.
After shoving him away, I secured the leather straps around his wrists and then pulled them as tight as I could. When I squatted down, Carter tried to kick me.
There was no real power behind his blows. He was weak and uncoordinated.
Grabbing his ankles, I fastened the straps around them.
“You shouldn’t be so ungrateful, Carter.” I stood and ran my fingers through his hair. “You’re lucky to be my favorite patient.”
He started to shout, so I pressed my hand over his mouth, shushing him until he went quiet.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
