Laced

Laced - Chapter 21 (For Every Action, an Equal and Just Consequence Part 2)

Disclaimer: This was written over 10 years ago, and the author no longer agrees with many of the concepts found in this story. Some of the content will be cringey and/or problematic. Please remember this is entirely fictional and does not represent the author's beliefs.

Twitter: dazzleizzy

Copyright © 2012-2022

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Harry's POV

I kept my eyes cast downwards as Niall led me into one of the holding cells.

The room was dimly lit, and the air damp and humid. I shivered, my stomach twisting in fear.

As I entered the holding cell, Niall shut the bar door behind me, locking it. "Sorry, Harry. Master's orders." He looked at me apologetically.

I nodded. "It's fine."

"He'll be here in a while." And with that, Niall left.

As each minute passed, I began to fill with dread.

I crouched down and sat on the floor, glancing around me. I had been here several times before, each time more unpleasant than the previous visit.

The only light came from an old lamp at the end of the dungeon hallway, several yards away.

I shivered again, goosebumps rising on my skin.

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He unlocked the door, stepping inside the medium sized cell room. My head snapped up to him, pleading for forgiveness.

However, much like Newton's third law, Master Zayn was a strict believer in that every action had an equal and justified consequence.

And I was about to endure mine.

"Shoes off, and shirt off, Styles." He ordered, his voice dripping authority and power.

I immediately obeyed, kicking off my shoes and pulling the nurses' scrub shirt I was wearing over my head. Had I protested, it'll only amount to more punishment, and that was the last thing I needed.

A long chain hung from the ceiling, with handcuffs at the end of it.

"Arms up. You know the drill." He snarled.

I quickly put my arms up, and he snapped the handcuffs closed around my wrists, held above my head.

The handcuffs were high enough that it allowed me almost no space to move them as they were locked above my head. I could feel my blood starting to drain out of them, and there was already a dull ache, so I stood on my tippy toes to let my arms move a bit.

"You could have avoided all of this, you know. It's your own fault, Styles."

I dropped my head, looking downward. "I know, Sir."

"Good. Now how many whips do you think you deserve? Thirty?"

My eyes widened, shocked. "Thirty?" My voice came out hoarse, my throat dry. Never had he gone more than fifteen.

"Would you like that to be thirty-five? Or forty, perhaps?"

I immediately shook my head. "No, Sir. I'll gladly take thirty." My mouth had gone completely dry, and I tensed. I couldn't see Sir or his expressions as he stood behind me, with me facing the wall.

"Glad we could agree on that, Mr. Styles." He said mockingly. "You're going to count with me. If you miss one, we start over, understood?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir." I tensed in anticipation and sheer terror as I waited for the strike.