As I walked home, my mind remained on Charlotte. I shivered, remembering how her face filled with terror when she uttered those solemn words... "I'm pregnant".

This was a fear I understood myself, thinking about the relief I'd felt at learning I wasn't carrying James's child. I could only imagine how Charlotte felt- her husband was even more horrendous than mine.

Though it had only been a few weeks since our Awakening Ceremony, I could tell that it had changed Charlotte. Not just in her altered appearance or meek demeanor. She was worn down, aged by this new life that was already taking its toll on her. The pregnancy was just the cherry on top of an already depressing situation.

That evening James called me to his quarters. My heart pounded as I stood in the hallway beyond the master bedroom, bracing myself for whatever maliciousness awaited me on the other side of the door.

With a deep breath, I turned the knob and stepped into the oversized room. James stood at a drink cart that had a permanent place in his bedroom, contemplating which beverage he would indulge in. He looked up for only a moment before turning his full attention back to the cart.

"Sit," he said, pointing to the bed. The authority in his voice made it clear that this was not a request.

I obliged and sat on the floral duvet, watching patiently as poured a small glass of bourbon.

"You had your doctor's appointment today?" James asked between sips.

"Yes," I mumbled, my brows furrowing. I had been so distracted by Charlotte's news, I'd nearly forgotten about my own visit to the clinic.

"And?" he pressed, folding his hands nervously. It might have been endearing to see how anxious he was at the prospect of a child, had those not been the same hands that struck me whenever he had too much to drink.

"And, there's no baby," I admitted, looking down at my feet, disgraced that my body hadn't accomplished what it was created to do.

It was illogical- we had tried, hadn't we? I'd bitten my tongue through the pain and disgust of having intercourse with James night after night in the attempt to fulfill my duty. So why did I feel such shame that our attempts hadn't been fruitful? I blamed Grayson and the expectations the city put on the women. If we couldn't have a child, we were worthless, of no value to anyone. Of course I would feel inadequate with that logic forced into my head for eighteen years.

"No baby," James repeated. His voice was calm, eerily calm. My heart hammered as he walked back to the serving cart and poured himself another glass of brown liquor. I had encountered angry James, and I had met charming James, but never this quiet, reserved version. This side of him scared me most of all.

As he drank, James' face growing increasingly disturbed, gradually reddening until he was the same shade as the dublin bay roses that climbed the wrought iron trellises of the gardens. I trembled as he walked toward me, his anger building until the rage was nearly palpable. I wanted to run from his wrath, but there was nowhere to go, no one who could help me. Fighting back would only make things worse. Instead, I sat on my hands, willing myself to endure whatever was coming.

James leaned forward and interlocked his fist in my hair, yanking it by the root. I bit back tears as he pulled my head back so fiercely that I was forced to look up to the ceiling.

"How is it that you were unfruitful this month, Mrs. Moberly?" he spit the name with hatred, his snarling lips less than an inch from my ear. "I go to work each day while you sit on your ass, enjoying the spoils of my labor, being waited on hand and foot by our staff. How is it that you cannot fulfill the one thing I ask of you by furthering my lineage?"

"I'm sorry-," I started to say, but he cut me off.

"I don't want your fucking apologies!" he bellowed, slamming the liquor glass to the ground, sending shards spewing across the hardwood floor. He grabbed my wrist tightly, forcing me to my feet, so close that I could smell his the bourbon on his breath. "What I want is for my wife to complete the one job she has!"

I looked toward the ground, not wanting him to see how my eyes welled with tears. James glared at me expectantly, but I didn't know what he wanted me to say. I couldn't make a pregnancy happen, no matter how badly he might want me to.

"Imagine the talk that will surface when everyone learns the Director of the Population Growth Unit isn't expecting a child," James said, more to himself than me. He hesitated for a moment. "Take your clothes off," he said through gritted teeth.

I hesitated, frozen in terror. Frustrated, James dragged me roughly toward the bed and forced me onto my stomach. He held my torso down with one hand, while pulling up the folds of my skirt with the other, exposing the skin of my buttocks.

"I really don't know what else to do with you," he muttered. "Do you like seeing me angry? Is that it?"

"No," I said, my breath trembling.

He scoffed. "One way or another, I'm going to get my house in order. I believe the only way to take control of the situation is to utilize... more extreme measures."

My stomach clenched at his words. James unbuckled his belt, grasped the metal clasp, pulled the leather band from his pant loops, and folded the material in half, raising it high above us. Before I could question him further, the crack of the belt echoed through the air as it struck my bare hindquarters. I yelped and lurched forward, the sharp, hot, pain intense and unexpected. I glanced back at him with startled eyes, trying to pull away as he lifted the belt into the air, but his unrelenting grip held me still.

"I don't like doing this, Mia, but you really left me with no choice," he said, cracking the whip against my bottom once again. I cried out and my eyes filled with tears. I already felt the welts swelling on my cheeks.

"Please," I begged as he hit me again. "Please, stop!" I called as the betraying tears fell down my cheeks.

He shook his head. "Until you learn your place, you must be punished," he murmured, lashing me again.

James held me firmly in place as he thrashed me repeatedly with the belt. I clenched the bedding in my fists, pleading for him to stop, but he continued without pause. No amount of shielding my body could stop the pain. Time after time he hit my already tender backside, and time after time I cried out in pain as the leather cracked against my skin. There was no remorse in his dark eyes for the agony he was inflicting on his wife.

"What good are you to me if you can't... give me... a damn child," he said between licks.

James was lost in a world of rage, his face contorting with satisfaction as he struck me again and again. This was the happiest I had seen him since we were bound, and for that reason, I was more terrified of him than I ever had been.

By the tenth strike, I had become so disoriented that it was almost like I was having an out of body experience- surely those weren't my screams echoing through the vast halls of the house, begging for mercy. It had to be someone else, anyone else, making that unearthly sound. But the pain radiating through my body as blow after blow assaulted my bare backside reminded me that the cries were mine.

Finally, the anticipated battering ceased. James stood behind me, his breathing labored from the force and effort he put into the blows. Though my blurry vision, I could see James staring at my behind, admiring his work, smiling as only an unstable psychopath could.

"Well, I hope you learned your lesson," he said, rubbing my raw skin tenderly. I didn't try fighting the tears any more. "From now on, you will do whatever it takes to become pregnant. If you don't, I will continue to beat you longer and harder until you break. It's time you realized who is in charge here," he said, throwing the belt to the ground.

***************

I wasn't sure if I was too stunned to move, or in too much pain from the whipping, but I continued leaning across the duvet for a few minutes, my skirt still lifted, exposing my welted backside to the world. When I heard James turn on the shower in the master bathroom, I stood up on shaking legs, my behind protesting the movement, and draped the folds of my dress delicately over my tender body.

I tiptoed across the room, biting back cries of pain as my skirt chafed against my raw butt cheeks. In the shower, James hummed happily, the past few minutes having no bearing on him. Angry tears pricked my eyes and I clenched my fists so tightly my knuckles turned white. I spotted the leather belt on the ground, the culprit of my agony, and I had a sudden urge to give James a taste of his own medicine. But I knew this one moment of vengeance would only result in a much worse reprimanding later on, so I stifled the yearning and stepped painfully over the leather strap, leaving the room before I could do something stupid.

When I was in the safety of my quarters, I let all of the sentiments I'd been repressing go. It had been a rollercoaster of a day and I was emotionally drained. Gritting my teeth, I laid on my stomach and sobbed uncontrollably into my pillow.

It was in this state that the No Name woman found me.

"Mrs. Moberly?" she asked, knocking gently on the door. I rubbed my face, wiping away the incriminating tears, and opened the door a fraction.

"Yes?" I asked. Her eyes widened when she saw my swollen eyes and trembling hands.

"I was retiring for the night, but wanted to see if you needed anything first," she mumbled, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. The woman had undoubtedly heard my wails at James' hand echoing through the halls. I gave an involuntary shiver as I relived the memory.

"No, thank you. I'm fine," I lied.

The woman gave a curt bow. She turned and began walking away, but paused a few feet down the hallway. "There are plants from the garden that can help reduce the swelling and disinfect the wound," she said, meeting my eyes. Her green irises were filled with understanding and compassion. "I can help ease your pain, Mrs. Moberly. If you will let me."

I wanted to tell her no, that I would deal with my wounds and marital woes on my own. But after what James had done, I had no energy left to be courageous. My strength had been leached from me little by little with each crack of the belt. I gave the woman a small nod, my shoulders slumping forward in defeat.

The woman turned her back on me and walked down the hallway. I watched after her, wondering if she had misunderstood as she made her way down one hallway, and then another. A moment later, she reappeared with a package of bandages and an armful of flowers.

The woman walked into my quarters and shut the bedroom door before grasping my elbow and leading me gently into the bathroom. She filled the porcelain tub with warm water and threw several sprigs of lavender, chamomile, and diced aloe stems into the basin.

Moving my arms caused the skin on my back to stretch uncomfortably and tore my already broken hide, so I did not complain when the No Name woman helped me out of my dress. I gripped her shoulders to steady myself as she unbuttoned my shirt and pulled the skirt off of one leg, and then the other, filled with too much agony to feel uncomfortable about being nude in her presence.

After I was undressed, I caught sight of my naked body in the mirror, and a gasp of horror left my mouth. My hindquarters were bloodstained, so inflamed they had doubled in size. My beige skin was covered with splotches of scarlet and purple, already beginning to bruise in the areas where the belt had met my body. I could see the imprint of each place the leather belt had struck. Sixteen. Sixteen times my husband had whipped me with as much force as he could muster. Sixteen times I was held down against my will as the life was beaten out of me for something that was beyond my control.

The idea caused my stomach to grumble violently. Despite the pain, I dived for the toilet as that night's dinner of salmon and green beans made its way up, the bile burning my esophagus as it was violently propelled from my stomach. The No Name woman held my hair back as I vomited, retching again and again until I was left dry heaving into the ceramic bowl, nothing left to expel.

When I had finished, the No Name woman wiped my mouth and helped me gently into the bath. I stifled the cries that threatened to escape my mouth when the warm water touched my wounds. The No Name woman shushed gently, brushing back my hair in a reassuring manner, calming me as the tears fell done my cheeks once again. I didn't try to hide them. What was the point?

"The water should ease the pain shortly," the woman said, scooping water into a cup and rinsing it over my naked body.

No sooner had the words left her mouth, a sigh of relief left mine. The concoction that had originally burned my wounds was now numbing the pain. I glanced at her curiously and she gave a small smile.

"It took some experimenting to find the right combination of herbs to help with the lacerations. The belt is the worst."

"You've been beaten, too?" I asked incredulously.

She nodded. "Mr. Moberly has a bit of a temper. I wish I could say that this was your only time being on the receiving end of his wrath, but that would just give you a false sense of security," she said knowingly.

My mind drifted to the first week I lived in the manor, when James came home in a huff and the No Name woman shrank into the corner of the room, as though she knew the pain that was to come. Of course he'd hit her before. If he would strike his own wife, he would have no qualms about beating a servant, someone he felt was beneath him.

"How often?" I mumbled. My voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper, but the woman knew what I was asking.

"More times than I can count," she said honestly, her eyes shifty. "I'd like to tell you things get better, but I won't lie to you."

I shivered at the idea. "I hate him," I mumbled, pressing my cheek against my bent knee. I shouldn't say it aloud, but I was too angry to care what the Guardians might do to me. "I wish I'd never been bound. I would rather be a No Name woman than his wife."

The woman froze and her face became deadly serious. "Don't say that," she said gravely. "Don't ever say that."

I stared at her, thrown by her suddenly intense demeanor. After a moment of silence, her taunt lips slackened and her face relaxed. She continued pouring the bath water over my skin with troubled eyes.

"Being with Mr. Moberly may be hard, but it is nothing compared to the life of a No Name woman," she said, wetting my hair and massaging suds onto my scalp. "Do you want my advice?"

"Yes." My voice was thick with tears that wouldn't cease.

"Become the wife he wants you to be on the outside. No matter what you think or how you feel in here," she said, tapping my head gently, "Work to be as submissive as possible. It does no good to push his buttons, no matter how much you may want to. You'll be much happier if you just do what he says."

I nodded, unsure what to say. The No Name woman meant well, but her advice seemed unfounded. How could I avoid my husband's wrath when the cause was something I had no say in? Impregnation was in the hands of God. No matter how subservient I became, I had no control over my ability to reproduce.

I knew before I was bound that married life often meant suppressing your desires or qualms in order to keep your husband happy and maintain the peace in your marriage, but I didn't realize I would become a prisoner in my own mind. Don't say this. Don't do that. Keep your eyes averted and your head down. Don't question your husband or stick your nose where it didn't belong. What was the point of having an inquisitive mind if I'd lost the ability to think for myself anyway? It was a form of captivity, being stuck inside my own head.

The No Name woman finished washing me in silence and helped me from the bath. I was careful to avoid my reflection as the woman lifted my nightgown over my head and pulled it gently over my tender body. She combed my damp hair back into a soft braid that fell midway down my back, and helped me climb into the bed.

The No Name woman sat on the edge of the mattress and began rubbing my cheek gently, her touch calming my wandering mind and helping me drift to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, Mrs. Moberly," she whispered, pulling the down blanket up to my chin.

"I hate that name," I mumbled groggily, the aroma of the bath making be drowsy. "It reminds me of all the horrible things that have happened since my Awakening Ceremony. Please, just call me Mia," I said. "That's who I am, and who I will always be in my heart, no matter what this tattoo says."

I glanced at the scarlet "M" on my ring finger, wishing I could climb back into the tub and wash the mark from my body. The sight of it made me sick.

"As you wish," the No Name woman said. She climbed to her feet and made her way to the door, but hesitated with her hand on the knob. She turned to look at me, her eyebrows furrowed as though torn. "Mia," she said, her voice low.

"Hmm?" I murmured, my eyelids growing heavier by the second.

"You asked me once what my real name was- who I was before becoming a No Name woman," she said, fidgeting nervously. She took a deep breath, as though trying to invoke the courage to say the words aloud. "My name is Ruby," she said in a soft whisper. A look of horror crossed her face at saying the name aloud, but I could have sworn she walked a little taller now. Then she opened the door and fled from the room.

Ruby, I thought, a smile forming on my lips as I curled up in my bed and drifted to sleep.

Thank you for reading! I want to hear your thoughts- what do you think about James' punishment? What about Ruby's revelations to Mia? Let me know what you think! And, as always, if you are enjoying Bound so far, don't forget to vote! :)