The First Night of the Lash

The night in the Suburra was chillingly still, yet the cold within the depths of the dungeon never once subsided.

Physical pain remained embedded in every fiber of Claudia's flesh like thousands of tiny blades. The servant's tunic draped over her chafed against the bruised and still-seeping skin across her thighs and hips, turning every step she took into a punishment. The sticky, sordid sensation from old man Servius's violent violation still clung tenaciously to her alabaster skin, impossible to wash away.

Yet what choked her throat and turned her spine to ice was the wooden rack stationed in the corner of the dungeon.

Servius Tullo sat enthroned upon a wicker chair upholstered in sheepskin. With a goblet of sour wine in one hand and his silver staff twirling in the other, his bloodshot, dazed, squinting eyes swept over her frail, mentally shattered form. The crude savagery she had just endured had not satisfied him; he wished to savor a far more vicious "mental feast."

"Begin, my little doll," Servius sneered, his voice rasping like grinding stones. "I promised not to rip out this southern beast's belly tonight, provided you personally administer a full ten lashes. Do not let me see your hands shake, Claudia. You know the consequences if he doesn't bleed enough, don't you?"

Claudia stood in the center of the dungeon, exposed and desolate. Extending her slender hand, she slowly gripped the leather-wrapped wooden handle of the triple-thonged oxhide whip. The tiny iron links embedded at the tips of the lashes clicked together with an icy, metallic clatter.

Step by step, she walked toward the stone ledge.

There, Jabari was chained with his arms stretched wide against the freezing stone wall. His broad back, rippling with bronzed muscle, was laid completely bare. The old wounds from the hyena fight had crusted into black scabs, yet trails of python fat—applied by her own hands the night before—still lingered across his shoulders.

As Claudia’s trembling footsteps halted behind him, Jabari slowly turned his head to the side.

Their gazes locked amid the dim, torch-choked haze.

Claudia’s deep brown eyes brimmed with panic, disgust, and self-torment. She loathed Servius, but right now, a self-loathing surged up to choke her throat. She was about to become the torturer, the extended arm of the perverted power wielded by the man who had violated her right before his eyes.

Jabari saw straight through every ripple of torment etched across her pale face. The general’s dark eyes—black as the Kavanu night—held not a shred of plea, nor a flicker of rage. They possessed only an absolute, chilling cold, like a millennial sheet of ice harboring ancient lethality.

"What are you staring at? Strike!" Servius slammed his wine goblet down against the armrest, roaring with sadistic glee. "Are you hesitating out of pity for that carcass?"

"Jabari..." Claudia whispered, her voice trembling, so fragile that only he and the dungeon's darkness could catch it. "I..."

Jabari did not blink. His rough, chapped lips parted slightly, uttering a low, crisp, and clipped sentence in Latin:

"Are you apologizing to me, or to your own cowardice, matron?"

The words struck Claudia like a splash of freezing water. Her hands shook violently.

"I am keeping you alive!" she gritted out, lowering her voice as a flash of desperation and sudden ruthlessness sparked in her eyes. "You are my blade! You must not die before you kill him!"

"Then swing the whip like a wielder of blades," Jabari replied, the iron chains around his wrists rattling fiercely as he straightened his spine, pressing his chest flat against the freezing stone. "Do not swing it like a terrified doll."

"STRIKE HARDER!" Servius bellowed from behind.

Claudia squeezed her eyes shut, a final tear of humiliation breaking free to roll across the dried blood on her cheek. Raising the whip high, she channeled all her hatred and the physical agony from the previous night's abuse into her arm, bringing it down with brutal force!

WHACK!

A dry explosion tore through the stillness!

The iron-studded leather tips lashed straight across Jabari’s left shoulder. Flesh immediately tore open, dark crimson blood bursting forth to spatter both the grey silk of her hem and Claudia’s pale cheek.

Jabari’s back strained rigidly, veins bulging along his neck like ancient tree roots, yet not a single groan escaped his throat.

"Good! Continue! Hahaha!" Servius threw his head back, howling with delight.

WHACK! WHACK!

The second lash. The third.

With every descent of the whip, Jabari’s flesh was torn anew. Blood streamed down his rugged spine, dripping onto the stone ledge below. Claudia’s heart contracted in agonizing stabs. The thick, metallic reek of fresh blood mixed with Jabari’s sharp scent of sweat threatened to make her retch.

Yet Jabari kept his head turned, locking his gaze firmly upon her.

In every fleeting moment between lashes, as the whip rose and fell, the two engaged in a brutal, wordless dialogue.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

The sixth lash. The seventh. The eighth.

Claudia’s arm grew leaden, cold sweat streaming down her brow. Her slender hands were now stained crimson with the southern man's blood. She saw his frame stagger with each brutal impact, saw his chest heaving heavily, yet his lips remained clamped shut until they bled.

"Two more lashes! Rip his meat to shreds!" Servius roared, his eyes glazed with perverted excitement.

Claudia looked at Jabari’s blood-drenched back, then straight into his eyes. Her inner turmoil utterly collapsed, replaced by a cold, hardened numbness. She understood that from tonight onward, her hands were officially steeped in blood. She was no longer an innocent, victimized noblewoman; she had stepped into this game of slaughter with her own two hands.

She delivered the final two lashes with every ounce of strength remaining in her body!

WHACK! WHACK!

Clang!

The chains on Jabari’s wrists slammed violently against the stone wall. His back was shredded, blood splattering everywhere. The general’s muscular frame sagged for a heartbeat, but instantly, he flexed his core and slowly forced his spine straight once more.

The oxhide whip slipped from Claudia’s trembling fingers, dropping heavily into the puddle of gore at her feet. She stood paralyzed, gasping for breath, her dazed hands staring blankly at the sticky blood smeared across her fingers.

"Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent, Claudia!" Servius rose, tossing back the last of his sour wine with absolute satisfaction. Brandishing his silver-inlaid staff, he turned to the jailer: "Lock the gate! Let this beast ruminate on her ladyship's 'mercy' tonight!"

Servius’s heavy footsteps and wheezing laughter faded away behind the solid, cast-iron gate.

Crack! Clack!

The iron gate slammed shut, returning a terrifying silence and plunging darkness to the dungeon. Only the sputtering crackle of oil-soaked torches flickered against the stone walls.

Claudia did not leave immediately. She dropped to one knee upon the damp stone floor, staring down at her blood-soaked hands in the torchlight. Her entire body shook in uncontrollable spasms. The humiliation of violation mingled with self-loathing for tearing human flesh with her own hands surged into her throat, forcing her to bow her head and tremble in stifled breath to keep from sobbing aloud.

In the corner of the cell, Jabari slowly lifted his head.

His blood-soaked back leaned against the freezing stone, his rugged chest heaving with ragged, labored breaths. Blood trickled from his shoulders and back down his abdomen, dripping in dark rounds onto the stone ledge.

He gazed down at Claudia’s slender, huddled form upon the floor. A mocking, brutal half-smile curved across the blood-crusted lips of the Kavanu general.

Shifting slightly forward, the chains across his shoulders rattled in unison. Lowering his voice, his raspy, fractured whisper cut straight through her mind amid painful breaths:

"You fear me more than you fear him..."

Claudia froze. Slowly lifting her head, her tear-blurred brown eyes met his bloodied yet blazing gaze in the dark.

Jabari smiled, exhaling a breath hot with the reek of fresh blood, continuing to murmur in a tone as merciless as a curse:

"...It is yourself you ought to fear, matron."