My hands are shaking. I press them against his chest to steady myself.
Think, Emmaleen.Think.
What do I actually want?
I want to stop feeling like I'm crawling out of my skin. Want the noise in my head to quiet down. Want my body to stop screaming at me that something is wrong, that I failed, that I need correction.
I want?—
God.
I want someone to punish me so I can stop punishing myself.
"I—" The word catches. My brain feels like it's gonna explode. I can't actually be saying this. Am I really saying this? "Yes."
Lorcan goes very still. His eyes locked on mine. HIs one word both a question and a plea. "Yes?"
"Yes," I say. This time, definitively. "Please.Punish me."
13
Punish me.
These words echo in my head as I stand up and hold out my hand to the naked girl on my bedroom floor.
For one moment—she hesitates. Looks at it. Looks at me.
And there's part of me that's cheering her on. That's it, I'm saying. Question this. Don't let some strange man take you down to the chapel. It only gets worse from here.
Fight, you doe-eyed little sub.Fight! Do not give in to the urges.
Because once you're in, once you get a taste of it, it's an addiction.
Ask me how I know.
But there's another part of me. A muchdarkerpart of me who wants her tomeanthis. With all her heart. Who wants her to be as fucked up as I am. Who wants her to long for what I want to give her. Who wants her dopamine hit to flow directly from my punishment.
She takes my hand. Her fingers sliding into mine—warm, tentative, trusting—and Christ, there it is. That rush. That familiar spike of power straight to my cock. I help her up and lead her toward the stairs, her smaller hand wrapped in mine, and the spirals start immediately because of course they do.
Right, so here's the thing about knowin' exactly what you're walkin' into—it doesn't make ya less culpable. If anythin', it makes ya worse, doesn't it? Because you're choosin' the descent with full awareness, eyes wide open, catalogin' every step that takes ya further from redemption.
I know what's at the bottom of these stairs. I know what I'm about to do. And I'm doin' it anyway because apparently years of avoidance and self-discipline collapse the moment a broken girl asks me to fix her with the very thing that broke me, and her dom gave me permission to put her back together by breaking her, and I'm… I'm just a cock with urges. Apparently.
Father Patrick's voice slides into my thoughts like smoke under a door.Lorcan, mah boy, are such pleasures worth yer soul?
I don't answer. Won't engage. Just let him ramble while I guide Emmaleen down the steps, her bare feet silent against the cold surface, my hand steady on hers despite the war ragin' inside my chest.
Ya think ya can control it this time? Ya think one taste won't turn into another, and another, until ya've lost yerself entirely?
He's not wrong. Never is. That's the horrifyin' bit about conscience. It's technically correct even when ya desperately want it to shut the fuck up.
Especially when it comes in the form of a Catholic priest you mistakenly confessed your sins to back when you were twenty-one. Notthatsecret.Thatsecret goes to the grave. But the others? The choking fetish? The way I get hard watchin' them see stars?
Yeah. I told that old bastard everythin' and now he follows me around like a heroin habit.
The great room opens before us as we reach the bottom of the stairs. The evening light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the fading sun filling the space with golden-hourillumination heaven would envy, which only adds to the conflict exploding inside my head.
Ya swore ya'd never go back. Ya swore?—
