Excerpt (unedited) ... Lick of Darkness

EXCERPT... “Time to pay for your insubordination, Bryce.” His head swiveled around to watch my progression through the room from over his other shoulder. His eyes widened in alarm when he saw me pull down the snake whip. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he bit out in shock. I unfurled the whip on my way back and tightened my grip around the plaited handle. Widening my stance, I stopped and threw my arm over my shoulder. The popper cracked crisply through the room less than an inch away from the soft flesh of his ass. It was so close, I knew he just felt a small puff of air on his skin. “MISTRESS,” he hastily yelled out when he flattened himself into the wall, his butt cheeks clenching tight while he tried to escape the perceived connection. “Does that answer your question?” I bellowed across the room, and his shoulders physically twitched in response. “ANSWER,” I demanded harshly, flexing my fingers around the handle. “Yes, Mistress,” he breathed quickly. Huh. He probably thinks that’s going to help him, I snorted. Firming my jaw, I drew my arm back, flicking my wrist sideways so the thong and popper landed behind me. As I threw my arm over my shoulder, I took one step forward, knowing I was a little closer than I should have been. Now, with his back to me, my mind’s eye narrowed down to the man himself. My thoughts swirled from the depths of my mind. Before my arm was fully extended, the only thing I saw in front of me, was who he was. Bryce Ronald Caldwell. I hate you. The resounding crack ringing through the room paled in comparison to Bryce’s scream of pain. It was music to my ears and a surge of adrenaline rushed through my veins. When I drew my arm back for a third time, a strange hunger sprung to life inside me. In one fluid movement, I swung my arm up in an arc until my hand flew over my shoulder in a blur, and within a millisecond, Bryce’s scream echoed through the room. “FUCK.” His expletive focused my thoughts in an instant. My eyes immediately skated across the surface of his back. I sighed quietly while I watched the immediate pebbling of crimson along the rising red welt. Fuck. Too hard. Where the hell is my control? Fucking cool it, I chastised myself. But anger competed with control, festering inside of me, causing my blood to boil hotly through my veins, and I closed my eyes. Taking a slow, measured breath in, I centered myself as I blew out, emptying my lungs. Why is it so hard for me to grapple for control? I know why, I answered myself. He represents a loss so great, I know I’ll never get over it for as long as I live. I flexed my fingers around the braided handle, over and over, while I drew in another long breath to calm myself down. Mistress Hellion was known for being the embodiment of controlled restraint, and I searched my depths to bring that to the surface and ignore the growing need manifesting through me to slice his back open, just like the curling cabled serpent sliced through my parents, and Jarvis. My breath hitched slightly when an image of identifying their bodies in the morgue flashed through my mind. He hasn’t paid nearly enough, I thought, gritting my teeth. Opening my eyes, I focused. Fifty lashes should do the trick. I swung my arm once again, and Bryce’s expletive rang through the room. But this time I remained focused, intent on marking a beautiful pattern across the broad expanse of his back. Finding my rhythm, I kept count in my head. Bryce’s screams turned into whimpers, and by the time I reached fifty, he wasn’t making any sound at all and hung limply from his bound wrists. Breathing heavily, I curled the thong of my whip up and slowly made my way over to the wall to hang it back up. I surveyed my handiwork. In all, there were four strikes that had cut through his flesh, and I smiled at the slow trickles of blood making their way down his back. © Copyright Carol Delmornay 2018 All Rights Reserved. Pic Credit: Google Images