by JB Duvane
I was screaming at the top of my lungs, the blood rushing to my face. I felt like throwing things. I wanted to pull everything out of the medicine cabinet and throw it all across the bathroom. I wanted to show him how much it hurt that he loved my mother and not me.
Max rushed at me then, flinging his arms around me and holding me close to him, pinning me against his body while I thrashed wildly, to no avail.
He was much stronger than I was, but I beat against him, insisting that he let me go. I wanted to fight.
"You don't love me! You’re still in love with her and I fucking know it! You won’t kiss me or let me touch you! You just want a hole to fuck! That’s all I am to you, right? Just a warm hole!“
Max dragged me from the bathroom and tackled me onto the bed. Lying on top of me, he held me down until I was no longer thrashing. I had no energy left by the time I stopped fighting him. It felt as if all of the rage that I had been holding in for years was suddenly coming out now. I didn’t care what he thought of me, I didn’t care if he thought that I was acting like a child.
He had played me, and that's all there was to it.
"Emily, you have to stop yelling like this," Max said sternly.
I pushed against him with all my might, but he wasn't going anywhere. "No! It's all your fault! You deserve to be yelled at!” I screamed.
"If you don't stop, I'm going to have to restrain you." Max said calmly, holding me down on the bed.
I thrashed against him once more.
He expertly grabbed my wrists and splayed them on the bed, slipping the restraint on my wrist after pulling my arm out of the sleeve of the robe before I could even react.
He quickly fastened the other side, then moved down to the foot of the bed and secured my ankles, leaving me splayed on the bed, completely naked.
Something about being tied to the bed, and the way he looked at me when I was spread before him immediately calmed me. I began to cry.
Max approached me, leaning over my face and brushing my hair away. He wiped my tears from my cheek with the back of his hand, and then lay down beside me, one arm draped over my body.
He let his hand rest on my breast, and ran his thumb over my nipple, making it harden immediately under his expert touch.
"Emily," he said in a low voice. "You are being very unruly. Do you know what I do with unruly girls?" his eyes looked deeply into mine. I didn’t want him to look at me like that, though. I knew my eyes had to be red and puffy from crying. I quickly realized that the way he was talking to me was making me wet despite being angry with him only seconds earlier. I hated myself for the way I reacted to him.
I took a deep breath. He trailed his finger down my belly stopping just above my pussy.
"Emily, I know that we both want this. Now, do you want to calm down and allow yourself to take what you want, or are you going to keep throwing a tantrum?" Max said, circling his finger on my upper thigh.
"Because I think I know what will calm you down, and I think we will both feel better afterward, don't you?"
I nodded meekly. I wished he didn’t have power over me like this, but I couldn't help but give it to him.
He pulled down his pajama pants, leaving them in a heap on the floor, as I watched him closely. My pain was still there, but the promise of his closeness was enough to appease me. I wanted so much more from him, but the sex was better than nothing. My pussy was dripping wet beneath me, despite myself. My body just reacted to him that way.
He positioned himself between my legs and sunk into my slick hole, slowly at first, then beginning to pound into me with force. He never broke eye contact as his cock ravaged my pussy, and I moaned involuntarily. I felt the pull of the restraints on all four limbs as his cock continued to drive into me.
“Max!” I moaned.
"That's it, my doll, let it all out," he whispered with a smile on his face. I loved seeing him look down at me like that, but it made me sad to realize that it was only when he was fucking me. My eyes filled with tears as I watched him watch me.
He bent down and bit my nipple, hard, sending currents of what started out as pain, but what quickly became electric jolts of pleasure, straight to my clit.
"Oh God, Max," I called out, unable to stop myself from shuddering as an orgasm ripped through me. "Oh god, you're making me come!”
Max gripped my hips, holding me on him as I clenched his cock. I could feel him bucking and twitching inside of me as he came inside me too, filling me up with his sticky hot seed. It felt so good knowing that he was inside me. Not just his cock, but his most intimate fluids. They made me feel loved and accepted. I knew it wasn't enough. I knew that I needed more from Max, but it was all he was giving me right now and I had to make it enough.
As the waves of our orgasms subsided, he removed himself from me, then calmly asked if I felt better.
I nodded my head.
"Does that mean that once I untie you, you’ll behave yourself?" He asked me slowly. "I would like to give you your freedom, Emily, but you have to promise me that you can handle it. I can't have you throwing things and screaming. You are supposed to be out here to relax and let go."
"I'm sorry. I …” But I couldn’t go on. Tears started streaming down my cheeks and I turned my head away from him. “I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll control myself." The truth was, I didn’t know if I would be able to do that or not. I had so many emotions coursing through me, I actually didn't feel in control of myself at all.
He unclasped the restraints, and I slowly moved my arms and legs in. They felt weak and it took a while before I was able to sit up. I felt dizzy and my body felt light. When he didn't wrap me in his arms and hold me close to him, I started to feel anxious again. I pulled on my robe, expecting him to stop me, but he didn't.
He just sat back and watched me intently, waiting to see how I was going to act. I scooted to the edge of the bed and turned my back to him. Thoughts of my mother and her boozy face the night she died wormed their way back into my mind and I felt my mood quickly deteriorating.
Before I knew what I was doing, my mouth started to speak without my full permission, but I couldn't hold back letting him know the truth. If he was going to treat me this way, hold me at arm's length like this, then he deserved to live with the ugly reality just like me. It wasn't fair that he got to hold onto her and have me as well, thinking that he could just do whatever he wanted with my heart.
"I killed her, Max." I heard myself say.
"No, you didn't, Emily,” he answered softly. "It’s normal for you to feel responsible, but it’s not your fault. She fell. It could have happened to anyone, under any circumstances. I know you didn't have a great relationship, but you can’t blame yourself.”
I actually laughed. "No, Max, you don't understand."
"Emily, not to play the doctor card, but I think I do. I have seen this over and over again in my practice. It’s natural for a grieving child to feel guilty about the death of a parent, but you have to let go of the guilt—“
"Max!" I said, interrupting him, but not turning toward him. "I fucking killed her. How do you think she fell down those stairs, Max? I pushed her drunken ass down them after she kicked me out, that's how!" My voice had raised an octave. I couldn't stop myself now.
"The fucking bitch wanted to die, couldn't you see that? You're her fucking doctor! She was constantly on tranquilizers and booze, cheating an overdose every single fucking night. When I finally came home from school for good, she kicked me out of the house, knowing I had nowhere to go!"
Max sat in stunned silence.
"She did it to keep me away from you! She didn't want us to be together! She wanted to keep you under her thumb so she could keep playing her little games with you! So that she could keep getting her drugs! Don’t you see that? I killed her for you, Max! I pushed her down those steps so we could be together!" I was wailing now, tears streaming from my eyes. "And you're fucking it all up!" I screamed between sobs.
Max grab
bed me by the shoulders, whipping me around to face him.
"What the fuck have you done?" He whispered in such a way that made it unclear if he was talking to himself or me. He threw me back on the bed, towering over me and shaking me by the shoulders into the mattress.
"What the fuck have you done?" he screamed. He looked hysterical. I had never seen him lose his cool, and it terrified me.
"I did it for us," I choked, tears streaming down the sides of my face.
"No!" he yelled, as if he could change the reality by screaming it away. "No!"
He yanked me up from the bed, pulling me by my arm.
"I did it for us, Max! That bitch hated me, and hated the way you looked at me!" I screamed at him hysterically, between sobs. He dragged me down the hall, despite my protests. "Let me go, Max! Why don't you just fucking let me go if you don't want me?" I begged.
Max wouldn't answer. He yanked open a door that led to the cellar, shoving me through it, then down a set of dark steps before he pushed me into a room. I jumped when I heard the metal door slam shut behind me.
"Why are you doing this to me?!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, so harshly that it hurt my throat. "Why?" I banged on the door furiously, trying to bust through it with my shoulder.
It was no use. He had locked me in his basement like a monster, and by the way he looked at me after I told him what I’d done, he wasn't going to let me out. Possibly not ever.
Chapter 14 - Emily
A beam of light shone in my eyes, waking me up. I looked around in the darkness, my heart pounding. I had fallen asleep on the cold floor after crying myself into exhaustion. I had no idea how long I had been down here, if I had spent the entire day and night, or only a few hours. My body hurt from struggling against Max when he dragged me down here, and my stomach growled.
I heard footsteps and Max's figure emerged in the light of the doorway.
"We need to talk, Emily," he said firmly.
I said nothing. The way he had tossed me down here like an animal scared the hell out of me. I knew what I had revealed to him was beyond shocking, and I wished I hadn't have done it. And even though I knew that him treating me like this was wrong, all I could think was that I had to gain his trust back. I stood up off the bed that sat against one wall, my legs shaking and unsteady.
The light from the house upstairs created a shadow of the man standing in front of me. I looked up at his black, expressionless face and just wished we could go back. I wanted more than anything in the world to just go back to the way things were before I told him. I would lay on the bed and let him fuck me for the rest of my life if only he didn’t hate me. If only he didn’t look at me like he did before he brought be down here.
"I'm so sorry, Max," was all I could say before breaking into tears again.
Max descended the stairs, and approached me with a length of rope. He expertly tied my hands together, and I didn't fight him. I didn't know of he was going to kill me, and at this point I didn't even care. I welcomed it more than anything.
Without a word, he led me up the steps. He didn't seem cross with me, there was no anger in his eyes or aggression in his touch. He brought me to the kitchen, where the table was set with a plate full of steaming eggs and sausage. He pulled out the chair and instructed me to sit.
"You're going to eat this meal that I feed you, and then we are going to talk. Is that clear?" he looked at me sternly.
I nodded. I wanted to obey him, to do anything I could to make him trust me again. I wanted him to see that what I had done was for the best, and that we were meant to be together forever. But even if I couldn’t do that—even if he never understood what I’d done—I was going to make sure he saw that I was willing to do whatever he wanted.
He sat next to me in a chair and cut up a bite of food. I had never been spoon fed as an adult, and the whole act seemed embarrassing, but I knew better than to object. He needed obedience out of me, and I was going to give him whatever he wanted.
I opened my mouth, allowing him to feed me breakfast, sipping from the orange juice glass when he offered it to me.
Once I had been fed everything from the plate, he led me to the sink and washed my hands, then took me to the bathroom. He instructed me to sit on the toilet and go, while he stood in front of me, watching.
By the way he looked at me, I knew that throwing a fit was going to do me no good. He viewed me as a murderer now, no saner than his worst patients must be. Probably worse, since I had killed the woman that he loved.
Normally I wouldn't be able to do anything with someone watching, but I had been locked in the basement for so long that I was about to burst. I hadn't even bothered to look for a bathroom down there, although now I realized there probably was one. It seemed like a room where someone had lived.
He handed me some toilet paper, and once I had cleaned myself off, he led me back into the bedroom, where he untied the ropes that bound my hands and transferred them to the waiting restraints that dangled from the bedposts.
He looked at me long and hard, and I waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. Instead he pulled my legs apart, and tied them to the posts as well. Then he took off his pants and shirt and threw them in a pile on the floor. His cock was already hard, but he stood there for a moment, stroking himself and staring at my body, before positioning himself in front of my face. He offered himself to me, and I readily took him between my lips, getting his massive cock wet with my saliva and straining my neck to take more of him into my mouth.
I wanted to please him. I wanted to do everything he wanted. I had to get him back. It had killed me to see the way he’d looked at me before, and I never wanted to see that look in his eyes again.
He ripped his cock from my mouth suddenly, and without ceremony, plunged ferociously into my pussy. I was still sore from the day before, and I cried out in pain. He didn't say a word to me, didn't touch my body at all except where his cock entered me.
Max just stared into my eyes and fucked me, oblivious to any pain he was causing me. He stared down at me, but it wasn’t with the sweet smile I had seen the day before. The way he looked at me was cold and distant. A look you might give a stranger that had bumped into you on the street. I didn't care, I knew I deserved much worse. I just wanted to please him, to make him believe that I was lovable.
Max finished quickly and withdrew himself. He untied my hands for the first time since he had brought me back upstairs, and I went to hug him, tears in my eyes. He pulled away and left the room, heading into the bathroom.
While he was gone, I heard a buzzing noise. I looked down at his pile of clothes on the floor and noticed the corner of his phone sticking out of one of his pockets. I listened in the bathroom and didn't hear water running yet, so I took my chances and picked it up. I knew that if he caught me with it, things would get much worse than they already were, but I had to know. I had to know how he felt about me. If it was me that he loved. It wasn't fair that I always opened up to him and told him the truth, when I knew there was more to him than he was letting me in on.
I was surprised when the phone lit up in my hand. I wasn’t really expecting to be able to get into it. I figured a man like him would have his phone under secured passwords, or would be using a fingerprint scan—but to my surprise, there was nothing. The home screen popped up and I quickly scanned his apps, then tapped on the photos folder. The last few photos that he took looked like they had been taken on accident—blurred images of moving objects. I flipped through a few more, and an image of a woman looking through a dresser came onto the screen.
My heart dropped. The woman was my mother, and that dresser was in her bedroom. The picture was taken from high above. I scrolled through and there she was again in a state of near undress. Again, in her bedroom, and taken from a high vantage point. She didn't seem to be aware that she was being photographed.
A realization dawned on me—these were secret candid photos. My fingers trembled as I flipped through the next ten or fiftee
n photos. They were all of my mother. They looked fairly recent, like they had been taken weeks or even days before I had arrived back home. Probably just before her death.
I heard the sink in the bathroom and I quickly turned off the screen and replaced the phone. My heart pounded in my ears and my hands were sweaty. Max was spying on my mother. He must have installed the camera in her house without her knowledge. But the clincher was … there were no pictures of me.
Max was so obsessed with her that he needed to see her at all hours of the day, even when she wouldn't let him. Instead of being horrified at the invasion of privacy that he was capable of committing, I felt betrayed more than anything.
Max was never going to care about me the way that he cared for her. I was something else to him—and obviously that something did not involve love. I had killed my mother, and although I didn't miss the rotten bitch in the least bit, now I couldn't help but feel it was for nothing.
All this time he had led me on—all these years of flirting with me, for his own entertainment and nothing more. I was never anything more to him than a sexual plaything—a young and naïve girl who he thought he could finally feel powerful with. I choked back a sob as Max re-entered the room.
I got up to use the restroom. I felt like I was walking in a tunnel. Max stepped in front of me, blocking my path with a dark look in his eyes.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I need to use the restroom," I replied softly, looking away.
"Leave the door open," was his only reply.
I walked toward the bathroom in a daze. I stood and looked at myself in the mirror, and what I saw, I wanted to end. I turned around to see if he was watching what I was doing. I heard him in the bedroom, fiddling with the restraints that hung from the posts, probably deciding what he was going to do with me next.
I looked back to the mirror, and tears welled in my eyes. I thought about the earring of hers that he had held on to, and now the pictures that he kept. And I thought about that night so long ago when I watched him fucking her. But he hadn’t been looking at her. He had been looking at me! I watched everything, his enormous cock entering her after he told her to roll over, then his attention turn to the doorway when he heard me.