I continue moving the showerhead up her body, over her breasts and head. I wash her hair, rinse, and repeat, adding conditioner that makes her long, dark locks so glossy she looks like a girl in a shampoo commercial. When the suds have disappeared down the drain, I drop the stopper in place and fill the tub, adding gardenia oil to the water.
She cries as I wash her, my hands exploring every inch of her toned, taut body. I knead muscles and poke at bruises that make her flinch, and when I pinch her nipples, she cries harder and begs me to let her go. “No, little one.”
“Please don’t touch me. Please?”
I slide my hand from her breasts, down her abdomen and between her legs. She squeezes them tightly closed.
The water hasn’t yet reached her cunt. It’s still on display for me, so I slap her, with nothing there to ease the blow. She jerks forward, and I smack again. This time I see the way her pussy jerks too, as if she’s clenching from the inside. I want so badly to climb in the tub with her, but I also need to take my time.
I force her knees apart and she struggles against the intrusion. Water sloshes out of the tub, soaking my jeans and the floor.
I slide my thumb over her clit. She arches her back, tries again to close her legs, and this time, when I hit her pretty little mound, she gasps as she turns the loveliest shade of red. She’s scared, there’s no doubt about that, but she can’t deny the response her body has to pain. I imagine she’s used to it. Her body is accustomed to conditioning and pushing through each little agony collected from rehearsals and injuries on the stage.
She rests her head on the edge of the tub and cries, covering her face with her hands. Good. I want her to relax and let go of everything. Her former life, her inhibitions, of all the bullshit society deems safe and sane. I want her to know that I can give her pleasure, or I can rain down fire and pain upon every inch of her flesh. Either way, I’ll accept nothing less than her total submission.
I take my thumb and forefinger and pull her hood back, exposing her clit to me. It’s beautiful—not too small, not too big. It’s just right. She lets her hands fall against the sides of the tub, closes her eyes, and swallows hard.
“This is a very pretty little pussy. I’m going to enjoy teasing it.”
As predicted, her eyes flash open, and she attempts to shove me from between her legs. Yes, Pet, I’m going to have you, and no, there isn’t a goddamn thing you can do about it.
“Uh-uh-uh.” I smack again, but the tub is nearly full now, and the blow is dulled by the water surrounding her body. “Lie back.”
I give her clit an angry little pinch, and she scampers back so quickly that more water sloshes over the edge of the tub. I slide my fingers into position again and jerk her clit, pulling the sensitive flesh surrounding the bundle of nerves up and down as if I’m sliding the foreskin back and forth over a tiny cock. Her legs shake; her body shudders. It’s been a long time since anyone touched her this way. I can tell because despite her anger, her loathing, and her fear, she’s eager to come for me.
When her mouth is parted, and her legs shake uncontrollably, I stop everything I’m doing, remove my hand from the water, and stand.
She glares at me and launches herself forward, slapping wet fists against my T-shirt. “You asshole! You fucking asshole!”
I laugh and let her little temper tantrum abate, but when it appears as if she’s not going to stop, I grab a fistful of her hair and yank her head back. “Behave, Pet. You didn’t really think I’d let you come that easily, did you? What have you done to earn it?”
Her head is tilted so far back, her lush lips parted and flushed with arousal. My own mouth is so close that I could easily kiss her now. But I don’t kiss slaves. It’s far too personal a thing.
I tighten my grip on her hair, and she cries out. “How exactly have you pleased me? So far, you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass. You come when I say you come, and before you get any clever ideas, there are cameras in your cell. I’ve got eyes on you twenty-four hours a day, little one; if you touch yourself without my permission, your punishment will be so much worse than me rubbing your pink little pussy in the tub and getting you so worked up you’re begging your captor to make you come.”
With these words, she loses it.
Something inside her breaks. It’s pride, most likely. That’s why I chose those words specifically, because I knew they’d bring her shame and humiliation.
She sags against me. I let go of her hair, and let her fall to her knees, fall apart in the bottom of my tub, because she needs some kind of release, and it will be a long time before I make her come.
CHAPTER SIX
Pet
He lets me cry until the water turns cold. My tears make him hard. I don’t know why. Maybe he wishes to drink in my humiliation, to savor it because he’s a psychopath. Either way, I can’t stop the tears, and when he drains the tub and hauls me up by the arm. I let him, because what choice do I have?
He pats my body dry with a soft towel. While he’s drying my legs, I think about kicking him in the face, but my feet already hurt, and are raw with blisters. There’s enough pain in my heart, in my body, in my soul right now, that I don’t wish to invite more. Everything about this man invites pain. If I’d met him in a bar, or on the street, I’d think he was exactly the kind of trouble I wanted to get into, and I’d probably follow him anywhere if he smiled. Most women would. But I didn’t meet him at a bar. I didn’t meet him on the street, and yet, I’m still following him.
The bastard rubs some kind of ointment on my scrapes and bruises. As if he actually cares for my wellbeing. He lathers my wounds in ointment and places several butterfly bandages over the gash on my arm. It stings, but I know that smell. I don’t know why, but I’m familiar with it. In my mind’s eye, I’m hit with a spotlight. A flash of brightness in the dark, and the feeling of spinning out of control, and then it’s gone.
He runs a comb through my hair. It’s full of knots, and snags several times on the wide plastic prongs, but he’s surprisingly gentle. Afterward, he pours some kind of oil into his hands and rubs my aching limbs. I try not to flinch as he kneads my breasts and slides his hands between my aching thighs and teases me again by massaging my swollen sex.
I don’t know if I have a boyfriend, or a husband, but it feels as if this is something my body has been deprived of for a long time. So even though I hate myself, I lean back against his chest and allow him to stroke me as he whispers, “Good girl. That’s it, Pet. Spread your legs for me.”
I do as he asks, and shudder as his fingers slowly enter my orifice. He moves them inside me in slow circles, as if by exploring the inside of me he might learn my secrets. If I have secrets, I don’t remember them, but I’m certain I wouldn’t divulge them to him. When the pads of his fingers slide across my front wall, my knees buckle. He chuckles. It’s low, and as terrifying as it is erotic.
“Not a virgin, then.” He sounds disappointed.
Am I a virgin? Would I even know? Would he? It didn’t hurt when he put his fingers inside me. It felt good. My cheeks flame red with embarrassment.
“Don’t worry, Pet. If anything, it’ll make your training easier. You might not remember up in here”—he taps my skull gently—“what it feels like to be thoroughly fucked, but your body remembers. But judging by the way I almost had you in two seconds in the bath back there, I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s been a while since that pretty little cunt has been fucked.”
All the air leaves my lungs as he pinches my nipples mercilessly hard. “Stop. Please I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me.”
“I have to hurt you, little one. The only way I can truly break you is to hurt you first.”
“No, please?” I sob.
He releases my nipples, and I can’t help the gasp as the blood rushes back into my bruised and sensitive flesh. He rubs them, kneading my breasts heavily with his hands. “Come. It’s time to eat.”
“Please just let m
e go.”
His eyes turn impossibly dark with anger. “Fuck, you’re like a broken record. Let’s get this out of the way right now, shall we? You’re mine. You’re not going anywhere. You don’t leave this house unless I say so.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“Pet, there’s no one to tell. It’s just you and me here, and you can’t reason with a monster.” He covers my eyes again with the blindfold, securing it in place. Then he takes a step back—at least that’s what I think he’s doing, though I can’t be sure. The air stirs around us, and the door clicks open with another shrill beep.
“Come, Pet.” His voice is loud in the quiet building, and on shaking legs I turn and take a step toward him, because I don’t see what other choice I have. I could run. I could charge him and push him over, get my blindfold off and make a run for it.
Yes.
I have to. It’s the only way I’ll make it out of here alive. I’ll let him kill me before I ever let him fuck me.
I take a tentative step forward, and then I charge. I slam into his body, the two of us go down, and I manage to elbow him in what I think is the throat and drive my weight into his Adam’s apple. He chokes, and I bolt. Scrambling to my feet, I yank off the blindfold and run.
The hall is long and dark, with peeling wallpaper. I pass several doors. My heart lurches. What if there are more girls, like me? What if every room here is filled with innocent girls? I can’t stop, though. I have to get out of here.
I hear a door opening, and head for the flood of light around the corner, but then it’s gone. The hall is darker than before, and I collide with a hard body.
“Help!” I gasp, but I’m out of breath. Two strong arms come around me, and when I squirm free I stare up into the face of the man who just bathed me. No! It can’t be. He—I just left him on the floor.
But that’s not right. This man is in a suit. A brother then? Or twins?
He doesn’t say anything, but the ire in his gaze says it for him. If the other man was a psychopath, this man is a monster, or some kind of malevolent god. I’ve never seen such disdain and hatred. He grips my forearm painfully and roars, “Fuck! Ares!”
“Ares,” I murmur, and he looks down at me, his expression even more livid than before. His hand wraps around my throat, lifting me off the ground and slamming me against the wall. Air is torn from my lungs. They scream from the abuse. I claw and scratch at his fingers. There’s no mercy in his gaze, no compassion—nothing human at all.
“Let her go!” my captor, Ares, says.
“Looks like you already did that for us, Brother,” he says through his teeth. My lungs burn. My lungs burn. I’m light-headed, probably seconds away from my last moments on Earth.
“She attacked me. I wasn’t prepared for it. Put the girl down.”
“She knows your name, Brother.”
“And whose fault is that?” Ares roars and steps toward the man holding me. He shoves him, my captor lets go, and I topple to the ground, gasping for air that a moment ago I didn’t think I’d ever feel again.
They grapple, and I try crawling away, but I don’t have the energy or the breath to spare. I’m no longer choking, but I may die here anyway—naked, in a hallway with scratched floorboards and peeling wallpaper, while two monsters fight over who gets to keep me.
I collapse, and the last thing I feel are hands in my hair, yanking me back, and a whispered voice in my ear that says, “You’ll pay for that, Pet. You’ve been a very bad girl.”
Then the whole world tumbles into darkness.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Pet
When I wake, my body aches all over, my throat hurts, and my limbs are thick and heavy with misuse. I close my eyes tightly against the intrusion of light, and roll onto my side. The ground beneath me is freezing, and icy-cold water splashes my body. I jolt upright, only to crouch against the wall of my cell when I see him—Ares—straddling a chair before me.
“Morning, Pet.”
“I’m not your fucking pet,” I say through a raw throat and chattering teeth.
“I’m getting really fucking sick and tired of having to repeat myself, so let’s get a few things straight. You are mine. I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want. I’ll keep you as long as I need, and if I choose to discard you like the dirty whore you are, then that is also up to me.” He leans forward over the chair and tugs a strand of my hair playfully. “You have no options here but to do what I tell you, or to be punished, and then do what I tell you. Are we clear?”
“No! I’m n-not yours.”
He laughs. “It’s cute that you think you have a say here, but slaves don’t say shit. Slaves keep their goddamn mouths shut unless directly spoken to. Do you understand?”
“F-fuck y-you.”
“Do you understand?”
“I understand you’re gonna rot in hell. They’ll f-f-find me. They’ll never stop looking.” Surely someone must be looking for me. Someone must know I’m missing.
A rictus grin full of malice lights up his whole face. It’s terrifying. “No one is looking for you, Pet. No one. How do you think it is that you came to be in my possession? You’re a street rat. A girl turning tricks to support her addiction. Getting you alone in my car was easy.”
“No.” I shake my head. That can’t be true. I don’t do drugs. I don’t—oh god. The truth is I don’t even know. I have no idea who I am. No idea who I was. “No. You’re lying.”
“No, Pet. I never lie. I have no need of lies, because dirty little sluts don’t need pretty promises. They need their orifices crammed full of cock.”
“No.” I bury my head in my hands and sob.
He rises from the chair, moves it across the room, and slowly stalks towards me. So much rage and aggression are concentrated in this one human being. He grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet.
“Please, Ares, please stop.”
He stills, inhales sharply through his nose. His hand wraps around my throat, holding it just tight enough to put the fear of god inside me, but not enough to cut off my air supply. It hurts all the same because my muscles and tissue are already tender. “You forget that name. From now on you call me Sir, or Master, or fucking God. You do not get to call me by my name. Filthy fucking dirty whores do not get to use my name.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, Sir!” Spittle flies from his mouth as he hisses the words in my face.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
He drags me across the room and sits on the chair, yanking me down on top of him. I fight. I struggle, but I’m useless. I may as well be a mouse trying to move a titan. I’m on my stomach, bent over his lap as if I were a small child, and as if that weren’t already humiliating enough, his huge hand comes down on my ass. The sharp clap rings out in my tiny cell. I still. My flesh burns, and his hand comes down again. Over and over, he spanks me until I’m squirming and crying out from pain as much as embarrassment.
He doesn’t relent. Tears burn my cheeks in thick salty trails.
“Who do you belong to?” His voice isn’t at all strained as he asks. His erection presses into my stomach, and I’m both sick and aroused. I’m terrified, and shaken to the core. I put one hand up to stop the blow, but he catches it with his own and uses it to secure me so I can’t get away, all the while the punishment keeps coming until it feels as if my ass is on fire.
“Who do you belong to?”
“Me. I belong to me.”
“Wrong answer,” he practically purrs, as if all the anger has leeched out of him and morphed into something else, something calmer, methodical, and far more terrifying.
Several more strikes land on my burning flesh from my upper thighs, to the crease between my ass and legs, and finally to the top of my buttocks. Those ones really hurt, but he doesn’t hit me there often. I cry. I sob, and twist against the violence of every blow, until I don’t. At some point, I stop fighting. All
the blood has rushed to my head, and the endorphins combined with adrenalin and fear meld inside my mind until I become a red-faced, drooling mess.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You,” I say through my tears.
“Me, what?” Another blow hits my rump, and my insides tighten.
“You, Sir. I belong to you.”
The beating stops.
The silence is thick with my anger and rage, my treachery, and worst of all . . . my submission. In no time at all I’ve betrayed myself, and given in to him. Given myself over to him.
“Good girl.” He rubs my bottom, raking his hands softly over the back of my upper thigh and ass cheeks.
I shudder. Whimper. I struggle, but his touch soothes the ache. And then he widens my legs and slips his fingers along the crease of my sex.
I stiffen.
He holds my hand against my back, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. “Relax. I’m going to make the pain disappear completely.”
I sob. My whole body trembles with shock. “Please? Please?” I don’t even know what I’m begging for any more.
“Shh, it’s okay, Pet. I have you.” He slips his hand through my folds, and gently strokes my clit. Though my head is upside down it feels as if all the blood in my body has pooled in my sex. He thrusts his fingers inside me and meets no resistance. I’m wet, aroused, and that knowledge is as humiliating as the spanking I just received.
“So wet for me, Pet. I know just what you need.”
And as he thrusts his fingers in and out of me with brutal violence, and my orgasm starts to build low in my belly, I know he’s right. He knows exactly what I need because he brings me to orgasm so fast my head spins. Wave after wave crashes over me. I come so hard, and I come more than once, and at the end I hate myself, but I still collapse against his body and whisper, “Thank you, Sir.”
In the Land of Gods and Monsters, Part One Page 3