I Know What Love Is

by Bianca, Whitney

  When I felt his hand ran down the curve of my exposed ass, my whole body stiffened. He was behind me, but I couldn't turn my head to look at him. Instead, I stared up at the ceiling beam, at the rope that was tightly pulled over the wood. I could hear it creak as I yanked hard on it, my wrists and shoulders crying out in pain.

  “Let me go,” I choke out. “Elliot, please.” I knew my chicken was cooked, but I still couldn't give up. I had to believe that he had a soft spot for me, somewhere deep inside of him. He could have killed me in the field, but he didn't. I figured he probably just wanted to torture me some more, but again, I foolishly held out hope.

  “You don't get it yet.” He drew his hand under the shirt, across my hip and over my stomach. “This belongs to me,” he murmured as he dipped two fingers down past my bellybutton and stopping just short of touching me where my traitorous body craved. Torturing me. “These legs belong to me,” he said, forcing a knee between my legs and shoving them open. I bit down hard on my lip, feeling like I was being pulled apart at the seams again. He was good at that, stretching me to my breaking point and then stretching some more.

  “These beautiful tits,” he whispered and I gasped as he reached around me, his forearms brushing my nipples through the thin fabric. He ripped the shirt I was wearing, his shirt, open. The buttons flew this way and that, pinging across the floor and disappearing in the darkness. “Mine,” He trailed his palm upwards to my throbbing neck, his fingers merely teasing the sore skin. “Even the oxygen you breathe belongs to me.”

  I moaned, the sound loud in the still air. He chuckled like the devil he truly was and stepped away from me. I heard the tell-tale sound of clothes rustling and I knew he was taking off his jeans. He dropped them to the floor and I shot my eyes back to the beam. I knew what was coming, or so I thought. I knew I could survive whatever he had in store for me.

  So I thought.

  He slid his evil hand between my thighs and I jumped. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my heart raced. I knew I should have been used to the way his hands felt on me, but I wasn't. I was scraped from head to toe from the corn field. My throat was bruised painfully. But my pussy still clenched when he touched me.

  Then he drew his finger up the crack of my bottom and my eyes widened. I knew immediately what he was going to do and fear hit me right in the guts.

  “I want every bit of you to be mine,” he whispered and I shook my head.

  “Please, Elliot,” I said through clenched, chattering teeth.

  “Have you ever had another man here?” he asked, thrusting his finger inside me, slowly, stretching my tightness to fit him.

  “No,” I whispered, hoping he would have mercy on me. Again, I don't know why I still believed he would have mercy.

  He pulled free of me and I gulped in air, wishing he would have just killed me. He'd already ripped me apart and ruined me. He'd already taken most of me and then some. And now he wanted more. He would never stop until he completely owned me. Every drop of blood. Every orgasm. Every gasp and every scream and every moan. He wanted it all.

  I had no choice but to hang there and let him take it.

  I felt cold wetness when he brought his finger back. Tears prickled my eyes but I didn't let them fall as he lubricated me and prepared me for his sinful desire. He was gentle, as always, until he ran out of patience. He fisted his hand in my hair, yanking my head back, as he angled his hard cock against me. The tears began to fall then. I was terrified of the unknown pain. As scared as I was, I was still unprepared.

  His cock was slick as he thrust inside of me, the head of him stretching me wide. The pain was like a red streak through my brain. I screamed, my mouth open even after the sound was gone. My throat felt like it had been ripped out and I couldn't scream anymore, even as he plunged deeper inside me. My body fought his intrusion, but he was stronger. Lifting my thigh and hooking his arm around me, he found another angle and thrust his full length inside of me.

  A strangled, wounded sound emanated from my throat, but no screams would come. My tears quickly dried as well. My face felt frozen in a silent scream as he drove into me, slow at first but gaining speed. His low moans echoed in my ears, the sounds getting wilder with each passing second.

  The pain seared me like a hot brand. He was branding me, I realized, leaving a mark on me that I would never forget. He tightened his hand in my hair, his teeth scoring my neck and biting my earlobe. His other hand roamed up my front, pinching my nipples and making me squirm and writhe against my binds. My mind began to stutter like a broken record, and I knew I was losing it. Every thrust was like a shock of electricity to my body. It was like I was getting shock therapy as I was going mad. I almost wanted to laugh.

  “You were put on this earth for me,” he said roughly in my ear. “You belonged to me the moment you were born.” He reeled back and then slowly thrust deep again. My body accepted his intrusion, stretching around him. My eyes bulged as he filled me so completely. I had never felt—never dreamt of feeling—the way he was making me feel. I felt helpless, used, broken, destroyed. He was destroying me from the inside with every swerve of his hips and every thrust. It felt like his body was joined with mine, like I was no longer a single person. He had forced himself inside of me, all the way to the root of me.

  He hadn't left a part of me untouched.

  I was starting to believe him. He was drilling it into me, over and over. In the dark heat, my mind was slowly losing all sense of reality and it was becoming harder and harder to deny.

  I was becoming his, whether I wanted to be or not.

  *****

  Somehow, I sensed she was gone. I don't know how, but even in the depths of sleep, I was searching for her and couldn't find her. When I woke up and she wasn't there, the rage was hard to describe. It welled up in me, hot and black and boiling. It flowed out of me like an unstoppable tide. It took me two seconds to realize what she'd done. The rope leash I'd fashioned for her was abandoned on the floor. Her cute little boots were gone, and the house was still and silent.

  She fucked me like she loved me and then she left me.

  I'll admit I almost strangled her to death. When I had my hands around her neck, I wasn't thinking clearly. I was overcome with the rage. And, if I'm completely honest, I was afraid. Running down the street in the middle of the night looking for her, I was terrified. Terrified that I would never see her again.

  But fate was on my side.

  Bound with her hands above her head and her cute little boots on , she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. She was wearing my shirt and seeing her covered in something of mine sent sparks of electricity, prickly and hot, down my spine. I stared at her for a long time, wondering how I was going to punish her for running. She was bruised and bloodied, but her eyes still flashed with life. She still wanted to fight me.

  I loved that about her.

  I knew I had to show her that she could fight me, but I would always win. I had to show her that she truly belonged to me, in every way. I wanted to claim her for myself, completely and undeniably.

  I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

  She was scared. I could smell it in the air, along with her sweat and her arousal. I buried my face in her neck, sucking in the scent of her like a junkie. If I wasn't careful, I was going to lose myself completely in her. It was almost impossible not to lose myself in how good she felt and how good she tasted and how good she smelled. After two days, I didn't want to be without her. The girl was everything to me. I knew it then, and I know it now.

  I was totally and completely fucked over her.

  Without any hesitation, I buried myself in her, forcing myself inside. I watched as her beautiful ass swallowed every inch of me. She took everything I had to give, her body molding around me, her tight walls squeezing and crushing my cock until I felt like I was going to die.

  She felt like heaven.

  How the hell did she think I would let her leave me?

  No fucking way. No fucking wa
y will I ever give her up.

  Her ass was just as good as her pussy and I fucked her hard and fast like she deserved. Like we both deserved. When I thrust every inch of me into her and rolled my hips, she screamed again. Not with her mouth. With her mind. I heard it in my ears as if she had screamed aloud. I took all of her pain and her want and need into myself and I couldn't take it. My cock exploded and I growled like an animal, hugging her to my chest and pressing my face to her hair. She let out a strangled whimper and I pumped into her once more, letting her tight body milk me completely. I rode the wave of the orgasm, my teeth on edge and my muscles tight, and I couldn't stop until I reached the shore.

  As I shuddered and quaked, she went limp, dropping her chin to her chest. Finally, wanting to see her eyes, I slowly disentangled myself from her. I moaned as she released me, missing her tight warmth immediately. Her breathing was heavy and deep, matching my own. She didn't look at me, but I could hear what she was thinking. The sex was better than good- it was life changing. Life altering. As my come dripped down her thighs, she knew that she wasn't going anywhere. She knew that she was mine. She had no choice. There was no alternative.

  I stepped around to face her, but she wouldn't look at me. She shivered as I lifted my hand to smooth her sweaty hair out of her face. She was still scared, but not of me. Scared of our connection. Scared of how close we were. I ran my hands up her ribs, feeling her lungs expand under my touch. I could feel her heart pounding as well, like it was in my own chest. I dipped my head to kiss her, forcing my mouth over hers. She tried to pull away, but I wouldn't let her. No, she didn't get to refuse me anymore. I sucked her bottom lip, like I knew she liked, and she shuddered again, goosebumps breaking out on her soft skin.

  Lifting my hands, I untied her binds quickly. She sagged into me, her legs buckling and her arms draping around my shoulders. I lowered her slowly to the cold concrete ground, holding her to me. I wrapped my body around hers, needing her closer. As close as possible. I gathered her against me on the floor, pulling her thighs around me and she didn't fight me. Her head rolled back and her eyes were glazed and dark, staring at me blankly. I stroked her cheek, wanting her to know that I knew.

  I knew exactly what she was feeling, because I felt it too.

  “I love you,” I whispered, right into her ear.

  Chapter Eight

  Pain.

  Pain was my reality. Pain from head to foot. My body ached all over.

  “I have to punish you,” Elliot said that morning as he strung me up by my wrists again. “Otherwise how will you learn?” I winced as he pulled the rope tight, but he didn't loosen it. “You're smart, you'll learn.” Looking in my eyes, he dropped to his knees and licked my clit before he left for work, giving me a shivering orgasm to remember him by. Then, with an evil smile, he got in his truck and backed out of the garage, closing the door behind him. He left me all alone.

  A human piñata.

  The heat of the day seeped into the dark garage and sweat dripped down the curve of my spine. I shifted my toes, trying to relieve the pressure on my wrists, but my ankles ached just as much. The toes in my right foot were numb. He promised he would be back at lunchtime, but I had no track of time. I didn't know how many hours had passed or how many more I would have to suffer.

  I wondered if he was thinking of me hanging helplessly while he toiled away at work. Vulnerable, like a lamb to the slaughter. The thought of me waiting for him probably had him hard all day, itching to come home and fuck me like I deserved. My eyes rolled in my head, unconsciousness beckoning. It was hard to breathe. The air thickened with each passing moment. With my arms raised, it was difficult to force air into my lungs. I remembered a random fact from my Catholic school days. When Jesus was nailed to the cross, it wasn't the blood loss that killed him.

  He suffocated.

  A laugh escaped my lips and echoed in the empty space around me. He'd let me live, but I was dying anyway. Maybe I would be dead when he got home and he would drop to his knees in shock that his favorite toy was gone. My smile faded when I realized that I didn't want to die, even to spite him.

  Despite everything, I still wanted to live. People had surely noticed something was wrong. Someone would be looking for me soon. My co-workers, my friends, my parents. My mother called me a dozen times a day, so she surely knew something was amiss.

  Dropping my head back, I stared up at the knots that bound my wrists. He had to have been in the boy scouts, I decided. Either that or the navy. His knots were complicated and difficult to figure out. My fingers barely brushed the rough rope, so even attempting to untie them was a pipe dream.

  I couldn't scream, even if I wanted to. He duct taped my mouth, as a precaution. The bastard was a fast learner. He was going to keep me under lock and key. It would be a long time before I would be able to gain his trust again, if I ever did. I wondered what he had planned for me. He was probably thinking up new ways to keep me imprisoned that very second.

  He seemed like the industrious type.

  I closed my eyes as a wave of dizziness, nausea, and pain swept over me. My stomach was empty, so I couldn't throw up, thankfully. I didn't want to drown in my own vomit, that was for sure. My knees buckled and I gritted my teeth as the rope pulled hard on my joints. The rope creaked loud against the beam as it pulled taut with my weight. I felt like I was being drawn and quartered, pulled apart like that guy from Braveheart. The pain was white hot, and my vision blacked out. The rope creaked again and I felt myself falling. At first, I assumed I was falling into a faint... but then my knees hit the concrete floor, hard.

  I screamed, the sound muffled by the tape, and for a long time, all I could do was lay on the damp concrete, blinking in disbelief. Blood rushed into my numb digits, the pins and needles waking me up out of my pain-haze. I sat up, my brain spinning as I realized what had happened.

  The old rope had weakened and snapped under my weight.

  I was free.

  Hysteria welled up in me, light and giddy. I pulled my hands onto my lap and stared down at the knots. I knew I could figure them out, just like I had the leash. But I needed time.

  Time was one thing I didn't have a lot of.

  I shot my eyes to the crease of light under the door. I couldn't tell the position of the sun from the small amount of light. I knew he was coming back, I just didn't know when. With a struggle, I stood. Moaning as my hips and knees and shoulders protested, I walked slowly to the wood stairs that lead to the kitchen door. I tried the knob and it was locked.

  Evil bastard.

  Glancing around the garage, I noticed the toolbox in the corner. There had to be something in there that would cut through the rope. I ripped the duct tape off my mouth and took a deep breath. Hope was back, alive and kicking.

  I had another chance and, this time, I wasn't going to blow it.

  *****

  I was a fucking idiot. I know that now. I never should have left her alone. If I had stayed home that day, everything would have been different. Everything would have worked out the way I wanted.

  I should have known.

  I never fucking get what I want.

  I was driving home for lunch and I drove past the hardware store. An interesting thought appeared in my brain and I made a U-turn and went back. I bought yards and yards of shiny new rope. The length of rope I had her tied with wouldn't hold for much longer and I knew that. It was old, from my grandpa's ranch hand days, but it was all I had.

  Besides, I loved how the rough twine looked wrapped around her soft skin.

  I couldn't stop from smiling as I walked through the aisles, ideas pinging around in my head. Maybe the garage could be our little playground. I thought of the gifts I could give her, all of the things I could build. Her punishment could last as long as I wanted it to.

  Again, I was so focused on my own sense of power, my own feeling of complete domination, that I didn't think to worry about her. She'd already run once, but I caught her and punished her. She wouldn't
try that ever again, I was convinced. I was her king, she was my queen. She would be at my side, where she belonged, as long as I wanted her there.

  Fucking idiot.

  As I turned the corner onto my street, I saw right away that she was gone.

  The garage door was gaping open like a laughing mouth, taunting me. The black anger swelled in me again. Swerving, I drove around the cul-de-sac and back out to the street. She couldn't have gotten far, I told myself. I would find her, just like the night before. I would hunt her down and drag her back. When I laid eyes on her, I didn't know what I was going to do.

  The only thing I knew—it wasn't going to be pretty.

  *****

  The city bus let me off at the corner by The Blue Mermaid. The driver eyed me, pity and suspicion in his gaze. He knew something bad had happened to me, but he wanted to believe me that nothing was wrong. If he believed me, that meant he could look the other way. It meant that I pulled the sleeves of Elliot's shirt down over the bruises on my wrists. I popped the collar and arranged my hair on my shoulders to hide the marks on my neck. In Elliot's garage, I found an old pair of jeans. They were too big on me, but they were clean. They would get me home without too many stares.

  I knew I looked terrible, but I didn't want to arouse suspicion.

  I just wanted to get home.

  The bus roared off, and I wrapped my arms around my midsection. I was nauseous at the prospect of returning to The Mermaid, but I didn't have a choice. I crossed the empty parking lot, knowing that they were just opening up. I hoped that Chelsea was behind the bar, because she knew me and she would believe my lie. Even if she didn't, I would be gone before she could ask too many questions.