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Leah nodded, set her bag on the floor near the pile of Marcus's

clothing, and did as she was told. Marcus tried to watch without

watching. Couldn't deny he wanted to see...but couldn't help feeling bad about it. Chivalry was not dead. Only beaten into submission.

When she was naked, Shannon directed Leah to bend herself over

the bench and prepare to be restrained. The barmaid closed the leather

cuffs on Leah's wrists, From Marcus's vantage point, he could see how

tightly she buckled them. Leah's fingers brushed the floor. Her light

brown hair shook loose from its pins and fell in her face. Shannon left

her legs free to angle down to the floor behind her, allowing her to rest her weight on her toes. The shiny black stilettos gleamed in the

candlelight.

He tried not to let his gaze travel higher, to where her smooth, white

skin was pressed into the leather. Or to where it was exposed to the

warm, damp air of the room.

"She's ready, Madre."

"
Bene
. Fetch a ball-gag from the cabinet. A large one, please."

Leah made a sound, something like a stillborn whimper. Her eyes

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squeezed shut, and her lips moved in what Marcus assumed was a prayer.

Why was she doing this? What could she possibly hope to gain by it?

Now both of them were trapped, bound, and at the mercy of a sadistic,

homicidal crazy person.

He stuffed down a groan of frustration as he watched Shannon grab

Leah by the hair and lift her head.

"Open."

Leah said, "Wait, please, what time is it?"

"What difference does that make?"

"Just...please. What time is it?"

Shannon rolled her eyes and checked her watch. "Two-thirty. Now

open the fuck up."

Leah shut her eyes and parted her lips. Marcus watched as Shannon

stuffed the black leather ball inside her mouth and buckled the leather

strap behind her head. Then he closed his own eyes, unable to stand the

sight of it. Of her. Of everything.

"Is Detective Colton able to stand? Support his own weight?"

"Yes, Madre."

"
Bene
. Give him the special crop, please."

Shannon crossed to the glass-fronted cabinet, opened it, and brought

out the item the Madre had named. Then she brought it to him, holding it out in front of her as if it were some kind of ritualistic offering. Eighteen inches long and made of black leather with a chrome handle, it looked

fairly harmless. But he knew nothing here was harmless. Its slender,

flexible body was designed to leave marks. Cause pain. Pull muffled

shrieks from its victims.

Shannon thrust it at him. "Take it. Use it on her." She pointed at Leah.

He knew he needed to be careful. Knew this could get very ugly real

quick. That's what his brain was telling him when his mouth opened and

"Fuck you" jumped out.

This time, when Shannon moved to punch him, he dodged her. But

he'd forgotten about Yugiya. The smaller woman had the blade of her

katana pressed just under his jaw before he could step forward to take the barmaid down.

Shannon's face was purple and twisted with rage. "Madre, he—"

"Silence, Shannon." Donnatella's voice was icy as she spoke to her acolyte, but warmed and became almost cajoling when she directed it at

him. "Detective Colton, you do not seem to understand. We will

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accomplish a great thing today. A marvelous thing. Our little sparrow has returned to us to do penance. You've been offered a great honor."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Yugiya applied more pressure to

the katana. He felt the skin break beneath the blade. Felt warm blood

begin to seep down this throat. If she wanted, she could kill him with a twist of her wrist.

The Madre continued speaking, her pale face creasing in a grin that

chilled him straight through. "Such a great thing requires suffering.

Down deep, where the soul abides, waiting to be set free. In the flesh,

Detective. In the bone."

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Marcus looked down into Yugiya's black gaze. Then he glanced at

Shannon. The loathing in her face could've singed his eyebrows. "No,"

he said. "I won't do it. You can't make me."

"You think not?" Donnatella's grin widened. "Let me tell you, Detective, that in my cabinet of treasures I have tourniquets. It would

take but a moment for Leah to lose her right hand,
sí
? And to tie it off at the wrist so she does not die immediately. Such a horror that would be,

no
?"

For the first time in many minutes, Leah made a sound—a muffled

exclamation behind her gag.

Fuck. They weren't getting out of this part of the program. He stared

at Donnatella, trying to read her intent behind the opaque surface of her eyes."Yugiya?"

"Yes, Madre?"

"Give Detective Colton a...how do you say it...demonstration of

what you can do,
cara
."

"Yes, Madre."

Before Marcus could protest, the small woman ducked and whirled,

bringing the blade around low, near his legs. But it was the leg of the

table she took out, dividing it cleanly in two. The table toppled to the floor. The drawer opened, spilling its contents—all the syringes and

small bottles of go-juice—onto the cement. Some of them shattered.

Solid oak, that table-leg had been. He would have sworn to it. And

not a fragile thing, but a good ten inches around. If the katana could do that—

"Fetch a tourniquet, Shannon. A small one, I think—"

"No!" He stepped forward, and Yugiya was there, her weapon level with his chest. "Don't. I'll...do it."

"
Sí
, I thought you might reconsider."

He closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath and held it, forcing

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down the roar of hatred and rage that rolled and churned in his gut like an incoming tsunami. Then he opened his eyes, took the crop from

Shannon and approached Leah, where she was stretched over the bench.

"Have you ever done this before?" Shannon asked him, her voice low and amused. Bitch. He'd show her amused.

He shook his head. She grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him

to the side of the bench.

"Stand here, you'll get more power behind your swing. Lift the crop up and back, and bring it down hard. Don't try to cheat. If you do—"

"Yeah, I get it." He lifted his arm, and held it at the peak of the swing. Just as he was about to deliver the first blow, Shannon grabbed

his other elbow again.

"Wait." She looked at Donnatella. "Madre, we forgot the mirror."

"Of course,
cara
. Uncover it so that Leah might observe her punishment."

Shannon crossed the room, passing Donnatella and moving toward a

long, black curtain next to the fireplace. She reached behind the curtain and pulled a cord, and the black fabric parted, revealing a wide, full-length mirror. When Marcus looked into it, he saw his and Leah's

reflections clearly. Leah only had to turn her head to see herself.

"Look, sweet sparrow," the Madre said, her voice almost a croon.

"Look and see yourself. How helpless you are. Your suffering will be a thing of beauty."

Leah turned her head and looked. Marcus watched her face in the

mirror. Saw her eyes widen and then blink, rapidly. He watched as the

muscles in her shoulders tightened. The ripple moved up her back, over

her ass and down her legs. She was preparing herself.

When he looked again at her face, she met his eyes in the glass. She

nodded, once, short and quick. Giving permission. Permission to beat

her? With a fucking crop, like a piece of livestock?

No, he couldn't do this. This wasn't happening, this was not who he

was, God damn it—

She made a sound, low and urgent. He met her eyes again. She

nodded once more, frowning and clenching her jaws on the black rubber

ball-gag. She looked...determined. Demanding, almost.

All right then. Maybe she knew something he didn't. He sure as hell

hoped so.

He returned her nod. Then he bent and made a show of flicking

away a piece of broken glass from the floor near his foot. Before he

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stood, he brushed his hand against her leg and murmured, "I'll make this as easy as I can."

Then he straightened, swung the crop high and brought it down. The

first blow fell in the space where the pale columns of her thighs bloomed softer and became the rising curve of her ass. She jerked hard against the restraints. He watched with fascination as the white stripe he left turned red and raised up into a welt.

"Again." Shannon said. "Give her forty. And make them good, or so help me—"

He turned and looked at the barmaid, and whatever she saw in his

face in that moment shut her mouth.

He went to work, lifting the crop in an arc and bringing it down. He

counted in his head, and tried to concentrate on the numbers. And on

placing the blows in different spots, so that he'd avoid breaking the skin.

He wasn't entirely successful, but he did his best.

By the time he counted fifteen, he'd fallen into a grim rhythm, the

sound of the crop striking Leah's flesh a counterpoint to her stifled cries.

Somewhere around number twenty-five, he noticed how she flexed her

hips, rocking her ass up into each blow. Now the sounds she made were

more like moans. Longer in duration. Higher-pitched, with a rising and

falling lilt.

He looked into the mirror and caught sight of her face. Her eyes

were half-closed, and the flutter of her lashes against her pink cheek

struck him as obscene somehow. Then she opened her eyes, and he

couldn't mistake her expression. Even as he glanced away and tried to

deny what he saw, he remembered her whisper in his ear, telling him to

surrender. The wet burn of her mouth on him. No mercy for his strung

out and screaming nerve endings. Relentless.

His cock remembered, too.

He let the fortieth blow fall in exactly the same spot as the first and

watched as blood beaded in the welt. Tossed the crop away and stood

there, panting. Sweating. Half-hard and disgusted with himself for it.

"He's finished, Madre," Shannon said. "He did a satisfactory job."

"
Bravo
, Detective." Donnatella moved a step nearer, stretching her hand out before her. The look on her face was almost one

of...enchantment. Marcus tried not to stare, for fear he'd begin to heave the water Shannon had forced on him. "Feel her, Detective.
Sí
, push your fingers into her and see if she's ready for the next part of her penance."

"What the—? No!" He backed away, trying to avoid glancing at the 207

D'ARC, GALE, KENT, MARCH

juncture of Leah's red and swollen thighs. Failing. Funny how it was hard to miss the tell-tale rosy blush and glisten of moisture once you were

looking for it, wasn't it? Damn. So twisted. All of them.

Including him, apparently. His cock agreed, but didn't shrink away

from the knowledge that he was one sick fuck.

Shannon grabbed his wrist. He fought her—of course he did. But

there came Yugiya, prodding his back with the very tip of the katana,

forcing him forward. Still, he struggled.

"He's resisting, Madre."

"Perhaps the good Detective doesn't like women? Such a pity."

He snickered. He couldn't help it. Her ploy was too damn cute.

"That game won't work, Donnatella. I'm pretty secure in my

heterosexuality."

Shannon and Yugiya gasped, hissing like leaky air-valves. Maybe

because he'd laughed at their Madre, or maybe because he'd called her by name. Either way, the pair froze where they stood and stared at

Donnatella as if waiting for her cue to butcher him on the spot.

But the Madre only inclined her head in his general direction, as if

conceding his point. "
Bene
, Marcus. We are to use given names now,
sí
?

Bene, molto bene
." She steepled her hands before her and smiled at him, sweet as rat poison in a sugar bowl. "Perhaps you would prefer that Shannon have the honor of first penetration? We have some lovely toys

in the cabinet..."

Shannon made a predatory sound in his ear, something like the

grunt of a wild boar. "The studded one, Madre. Let me use the big

studded one, please?"

He saw Leah's body stiffen, the backs of her calves bunching as if in

protest. Her whole body must've been sore, stretched over that thing for so long, with all the blood running to her head...and now she had to fear that cunt, Shannon, raping her with some random torture device?

"No. I'll do it."

Shannon grunted again, in obvious disappointment.

"Is he prepared,
cara
? Can he perform?" There was a note of anticipation in Donnatella's tone that might've turned his stomach if he let it."He was, Madre, but he's faded a bit." Shannon made a grab for his dick. He dodged her, earning a poke in the ass from Yugiya's katana.

Amazing how he kept forgetting she was there, what with the fact that

she was the probably the one who would slice open his throat before the

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sun went down.

He bared his teeth at Shannon. "Just...give me a second, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Detective."

Before he died? He was going to rip Shannon's head off and shove it

up her ass. That was the promise he made to himself as he approached