I paced up and down the living room. “What am I going to do?" I thought. It’s been about an hour since I got off the phone with Matías. I said a few harsh things and he told me he’d punish me once he got home. What was that even supposed to mean?! To be completely honest I’m scared. I’ve been trying to act tough this whole time and it’s just not working out. After cleaning up the vase, putting everything back, and doing the dishes; I ran upstairs to take a shower, attempting to calm my nerves. I hadn’t even realized how much time had gone by. When I got out, an hour had passed. I threw on the clothes Matías left out for me consisting of an oversized white hoodie, a pair of red shorts, and underwear. As I pulled the strings to the shorts, someone started knocking on the bathroom door.

“Gracen,” he said in a monotone voice. “Get your ass out here, now”. I shuddered at the thought of facing him. He didn't raise his voice, but I tell her was angry. Slowly, I walked to the door and opened it. Matías was right there and grabbed my wrist, he then walked me down to the basement. “Matías! It hurts, please le~."

“Shut up,” he interrupted. When we got to the basement he opened a door I hadn’t noticed before. The room we entered was white with only a small bin in the corner and a pair of chains hanging from the ceiling. He stripped me of my hoodie, shorts, and underwear making sure to graze my shaft as he did so. Though it was cold, the blood rushed to my face due to the gesture. He dragged me over to the chains where he handcuffed me to them. They weren’t that long and prohibited my arms from moving. Tears formed in my eyes and it took me everything not to burst out in tears. “Where’s all your confidence now, huh? You sure are quiet." I shuddered at how harsh his words were. He pulled out something from the bin. A whip.

I started to panic and I couldn't keep myself from crying any longer. 

“Matías," I shouted through tears, “please stop, I promise I won’t do it again, please. Please don’t hit me. Please!” I begged. I kept saying whatever cam to my head as everything was happening so fast. My father used to spank me as a child, but nothing compared to what was about to happen.

“I gave you simple rules," he stated plainly as he approached me. Once he was in front of me, he wiped my tears with his thumb. For a second I thought that maybe he wouldn't whip me, but that was before he began talking again. “On top of breaking my rules; you raised your voice and insulted me. Let’s not forget that you broke my vase.” As he struck me with the whip I cried out in pain. “Keep count, out loud. That first one doesn’t count.”

The sound of the whip cracked and it grazed my skin. “One,” I cried. “Please Matí~”

“AAAAGGGHHH,” I screamed as he kicked me in the ribs.

“Shut up!” he said sternly.  

The whip cracked again this time going across my stomach. “Two,” I said through tears. Again the whip cracked. “Three,” I whispered.

“AGGGGHHHH,” I cried as Matías kicked me again this time I spit up some blood. I coughed trying to catch my breath. 

“I said out loud, if I don’t hear it it doesn’t count.” Another whip crack. “Three,” I said louder a part of me wishing that Matías would just hold me like he did the night before and another part hating him. Why was this happening to me? I was always a good kid. I never did anything to ever anger anyone. My parents loved me, my teachers saw potential in me, and my friends trusted me. So, why? Why is this happening to someone who just wanted to celebrate his birthday? 

The thoughts in my head keep going as he continued to hurt me. Occasionally, he would kiss me passionately. On my lips, down my neck, back, and stomach; and mark me right on top of my wounds making them sting even more. He would whisper things like, “You belong to me,” in my ear and I absolutely hated it. I'm not an object to be had. At one point he moved his hand up and down my inner thigh touching my shaft. This caused me to shudder making him grin even more. 

 Then he would go right back to whipping  me. 

This went on until I counted to twenty. I was covered in welt marks, bruises, and hickeys. My mouth tasted of iron and my lips were covered in blood. 

“I really wanted you to have some freedom, but that just won’t work for now. From now on you are to call me ‘sir’ in addition you are not allowed to yell or cuss. When I speak to you I expect an answer. Do what I say when I say it no questions asked. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” I stated in pain. At this point I just wanted to sleep. I felt so weak and so miserable. Tears ran down my face, but I was too numb to even wipe them. I didn't have to though, because I felt Matias' hands on my face wiping them for me. 

“Yes what?” he asked in a gentler voice.

“Yes sir.”

He walked towards me and undid the handcuffs. I immediately fell into his arms. All of my muscles were tense, my skin was on fire, and I felt as though my energy had just been drained. Matías carried me back up stairs and gave me a bath. "It hurts," I said as he washed me. "Shhhhhh, I'm almost done," he said in a hushed voice. Once he finished he treated my wounds, dressed me in some sweats, and laid me down in bed to rest. He played with my hair as I went to sleep. I was too weak to move or do anything; so I let him continue with touching me. It would be a lie if I said it wasn't nice to have someone next to me even if that someone hurt me. By no means did I feel comfortable being around him, but I enjoyed the presence of another person. I fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake up till that night.  

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