WHORES, HEROES AND WHIPS
1553 Words
Adinna’s POV
It’s finally Monday, and just like Riley promised, she’s right on time, knocking at my door before I even finish buttoning up my shirt.
The uniform is something else. A crisp white shirt with a bow tie, sure, but the skirt? It’s way too short for my liking. I tug at the hem for the tenth time before sighing.
“Why are the skirts like this?” I ask, eyeing myself in the mirror like the fabric might suddenly grow an extra five inches.
Riley just grins, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “They’ve been like this for a while now. Don’t ask me why. Tradition, maybe? Or someone in charge had a thing for showing legs.”
I groan, tugging again. “Tradition sucks.”
“You’ll survive,” she teases as she loops her arm through mine. “Besides, it’s the beginning of a new school year so you’re lucky you got here just in time. Most people would kill for a fresh start like this.”
“We’ve got to head to the hall,” she adds. “There’s an announcement to be made since it’s the first day of the school year.”
We join the stream of students filing toward the massive building at the heart of campus. My nerves hum with every step as my thoughts keep on racing. New year, new school, new me.
The second we push through the hall doors, the atmosphere doesn’t feel like any announcement is to be made. Instead of students lined up in orderly rows, there is a cluster. A circle is currently formed in the middle of the room, voices rising with laughter and cheers echoing off the high ceiling.
“What’s happening?” I ask with a frown on my face as I craned my neck to see.
Beside me, Riley is frozen, her playful smile dropping into something sharp. “Oh, no.”
Before I could ask what the problem is, she’s rushing forward into the throng, weaving between bodies. The crowd parts just enough for me to catch a glimpse of what is going on.
In the middle of the circle are two boys, their uniforms just like everyone else’s but somehow carried with more arrogance.
One is sitting casually on a chair like it’s his throne, with his leg stretched out, while the other stands behind him with a whip in hand.
Two girls are on their knees, licking the boots of the seated boy as the standing one cracks the whip against their backs.
My stomach twists and my chest tightens. What the actual f**k? The word slips past my lips in a horrified whisper.
Beside me, Riley stiffens. “This is not good at all. We need to go,” she mutters, tugging at my sleeve.
But I shove her hand away. Rage sparks hotter than fear, and before I know it, I’m stepping forward, my voice cutting through the disgusting laughter.
“Enough!” My words slam into the silence. “Stop this nonsense right now. This is a school, not a damn whorehouse. If you’re looking for whatever sick game this is, you can find it somewhere else.”
The air goes dead. The laughter dies, whispers snuff out, even the crack of the whip freezes in midair as all eyes land on me.
The seated boy leans back slowly with a smirk tugging at his lips as he tilts his head like he’s just been presented with an amusing puzzle. His eyes sweep over me, dripping with disdain.
“And you are?” he drawls, the question sharp with disgust, like even acknowledging me leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
Heat flashes through me. My heart is hammering, but my tongue doesn’t falter. “I’m the one who’s going to put a stop to this,” I snap, my voice slicing through the heavy silence that has swallowed the circle.
Gasps ripple through the crowd. Riley grabs at my arm, hissing my name like she can drag me back into safety, but I shake her off.
No chance. Not when two girls are on their knees licking the boots of a boy who thinks the world revolves around his smug little smirk.
I step forward, ignoring the sharp sting of dozens of eyes burning into me. “Are you two okay?” I ask the girls softly, crouching a little to meet their eyes. My chest aches at how vacant they look, how robotic their movements are. They don’t answer, just keep their heads lowered as their tongues slide over black leather polished to a shine.
Disgust twists my stomach. I shoot upright, as I glare locked on the boy in the chair. I’d heard his name whispered in the circle just moments ago—Jace. The infamous Jace. The Alpha of the West.
“You’re a pig.” I sneer, my voice spitting the name like poison, “You sit there letting people lick your shoes like you're some kind of twisted king. Well newsflash, this isn’t a throne room, it’s a school.”
A sharp inhale slices the air behind me. The students watching don’t dare breathe too loudly.
“You want someone to lick your shoes?” I continue, my fury climbing. “Why don’t you bend down yourself. Oh, wait... you’d probably break your pampered back.”
Jace’s smirk doesn’t falter, but his eyes narrow, a dangerous glint sparking.
I turn back to the girls, reaching down to grab their hands. “Come on,” I say firmly, pulling them to their feet. “You don’t need to do this. Let’s go.”
I tug once, expecting them to follow, but as I turn, I freeze.
I’m face to face with the boy holding the whip.
He’s closer than I realized, looming over me with a lazy smirk carved into his lips, whip dangling casually from his fingers like it’s just another part of his body. His eyes glitter with something sharp, hungry, and far too entertained.
“Well, well, well,” he drawls, voice smooth as poison. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a hero.”
“When was the last time we had one of those?” he muses, turning his head toward Jace as if asking him to confirm. “A bright, shiny little saviour rushing in to rescue the poor children.” His eyes swing back to me, raking down my body in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“And this one doesn’t look half bad. I bet she’d look even prettier on her knees.” he adds, eyes dragging down and back up like he’s peeling me open.
My stomach lurches, heat rising up my neck—not from shame, but from the raw disgust clawing at my chest.
The words shoot out of me like a knife.
“f**k off.”
The echo of it hangs in the air, sharp enough to slice through the jeers around us. My pulse hammers in my throat, and my fists clench at my sides. Salem only smirks wider, twirling the whip lazily in his hand as though I’ve just entertained him instead of told him off.
I turn sharply, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a second glance. My hand finds those of the two girls and I tug them toward the doors. “Come on. We’re leaving. Now.”
But before I can take more than two strides, I feel hand grope my ass in a very lewd manner.
Fingers curl against me in a way that makes my stomach twist with disgust.
I freeze for half a second, disbelief clawing at me. Then rage swallows everything.
Without thinking or hesitation, I whip around, my arm snapping up in a blur. My palm connects with skin in a violent crack. The sound slices through the air, loud enough to echo.
The crowd gasps as one, a collective, sharp intake of breath.
My chest heaves, adrenaline roaring in my ears as I turn to see who the ass that groped me is.
And then I see him.
Jace.
He sits there, the imprint of my hand already blooming red across his flawless cheek. His eyes narrow, dark and venomous, stripping away every trace of smug amusement. The easy arrogance he wore like a crown is gone, replaced by something sharper—an ugly, hateful rage that burns straight through me.
His jaw flexes as if he’s holding back the urge to rip me apart right there in front of everyone, and the way he stares at me makes my skin crawl.
A murmur rolls through the crowd, growing louder with every passing second. Students grab at each other’s arms, whispering furiously, voices thick with disbelief.
“Did she just—?”
“No way.”
“She slapped Jace.”
My breath hitches, the weight of what I’ve done slamming into me, but I don’t look away. My hand still stings, and my blood still burns. I won’t take it back.
He tips his head back, the sound spilling out of him like this is the best joke he’s heard in years. When he finally speaks, his voice cuts clean through the chaos.
“Well,” His grin stretches wide, devilish. “This just got interesting.”
- Writer
