They’re angry at me.
I can only write.

The other option is unpleasant…


She laid down, rough hands folded on her chest. Her raven hair strewn across the white , fluffy pillow. Her dull brown robe covered her tanned skin from her neck, down to her feet. She closed her eyes and dreamt her way into her inner sanctum…

Before her was a door. She grasped the knob and turned, opening to reveal a long, dark passage. Unafraid and without assistance, she walked, as someone used to traipsing the dark paths. Only her footsteps could be heard in the complete darkness. A little rattle was accompanied by the whining of hinges. The footsteps proceeded in and a second later, more whining as a door swung shut. She shuffled to the corner in the dark.
More rattling.
She struck a match and illuminated briefly, the room. Just a few steps beyond were iron bars, going from one end of the small room to the next.
Turning to a corner, she bent and lit a stub hanging on the wall. She went around, lighting other stubs. A minute later, she was done. She turned and stared at the iron bars. Putting her hand into her voluminous robe, she brought out a single key and walked towards a padlock, holding two bolts together. She slotted it in and opened, pushing the entrance into the cage open. She walked in and locked the gate behind her. The candle lights outside the bars barely illuminated the confinement. A single drawer was the only furniture in the cage. She walked towards it and pulled her robe over her head, revealing her nudity. She folded the robe and kept it on top of the drawer. She pulled the iron handle attached to the drawer and put her hand into the dark space she revealed. She pulled out a long rope-like material from within. The faint lighting revealed the whip. Closing the drawer, she walked to the centre of the room, dragging the whip behind her. She stopped at the centre and holding the whip to her teeth, she reached up and unclasped what seemed to be a manacle. She put her left wrist in and locked it. Chained to the ceiling with one hand, she took the whip nestled between her teeth. Briefly, a random ray of light flickered, revealing the menacing tiny razors attached across the length of the whip. Taking a deep breath and squeezing her eyes shut, she raised her arm and lashed at her bare back. A grunt escaped her lips. She raised the whip again, and brought it down her back. It continued, the sound of lashes on flesh and its accompanying grunt, disturbing music to the ears. The lights revealed the opening wounds at her back. Dark blood trickled down, some lodging themselves in the crevice of her buttocks.
She took a shaky breath, trying to steady her shaking legs, chest heaving. Another deep breath and the whip came up and down it travelled, leaving another trail of blood. The tiny blades gleamed, dark red glistenings on their gray skin. Lash. Lash. Lash.
With a small cry she stopped, sagging, her hanging hand pulling her weight. Perspiration mixed with tears streaked her cheeks, forming droplets at her chin and falling on her breasts. Her hands shook. Slowly, she stood upright. Taking small, shallow breaths, she gingerly raised her punishment arm and administered her just serving. The candles fluttered weakly, as if shying away from revealing the bloodied, swollen pulp of flesh and blood that was once her back.
Lash. Lash.
Her knees buckled under her and her hand dropped the whip. Her shoulder popped, dislocating from the socket.
She screamed.
Waves of pain, amplified, hit her. Her left hand awkwardly held her as she passed out.

…And woke up. Her eyes fluttered open and she unclasped her rough hands. She held her left shoulder and without a word, popped the ball back into its socket, grunting in the process.
She sat up from the bed, wincing. Imprinted on the sheet were bloodstains, soaking through her robe. She got up and walked to the shower stall, removing the robe to reveal weals bleeding profusely. She opened the shower stall and turned a knob.
She walked into the warm water, sucking through her teeth, biting her lips as the water hit her tender back. She watched through a haze of pain as her blood, diluted, ran down the drain.
“This is my punishment” she whispered and turned to shut the shower stall.