Falling For the Villain

by M. Robinson

  “You’re a horrible fucking mother, lying to him for this long. I can’t trust you with anything, you stupid bitch!”

  Over and over, he hit her.

  I looked right at the whip with wide eyes, terrified of if he would stop.

  Would he?

  It didn’t feel like it.

  “You like that, son?” he asked like he could see me. “Maybe you will turn out to be something and someone after all.”

  He was in front of the closet in four hard steps, and I instinctively shot back into the wall behind me.

  There was nowhere I could go, but that didn’t stop my mind from thinking I could hide from him. He unlocked the closet and opened the doors.

  Was this a trick?

  What do I do?

  “Come here.”

  I looked at my mama from across the room; her face was sad and afraid. She always had the same face when he was around. She wasn’t the same mom with him in the house.

  “I. Said. Come. Here.”

  I didn’t like the sound of his voice as I moved toward him.

  “Crawl to me, Donovan.”

  “Sir—”

  “Did I say you could talk?”

  I shook my head, getting down on my hands and knees. Slowly, I did what he ordered.

  “This cat o’ nine tails, son,” he said, moving his head toward it, “carries so much power. You have no idea how much control and power you have with this simple weapon. Now, this is your chance to prove to me that you aren’t fucking worthless. I want you to take it and hit your mother. Do you understand?”

  I halted dead in my tracks.

  “Master…”

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” he seethed, yelling at Mama. “I’m sick of hearing your voice! I’m having a man-to-man conversation with my son, and if you know what’s good for you, you will shut the fuck up before I lose my patience with you!”

  I shook my head again, but he cocked his head to the side with a vindictive look on his face.

  “Are you saying no to me?”

  “Sir, I don’t want to,” I swallowed, trying to hold back the tears. Knowing it would only get me in further trouble with him.

  “Grab the fucking cat o’ nine tails, Donovan, NOW!”

  Trembling, I did as I was told and grabbed the cat o’ nine tails by the handle. It was heavy and felt cold. I wanted to place it back into his hand, but he must have sensed my hesitation because he moved closer to me and wrapped my hand around it, the way it’s supposed to be held, he said. Stepping behind me, he gripped onto the handle as hard as he could. His powerful grasp was killing my hand under his.

  I tried to focus on that pain instead of what my heart was feeling when he kept ordering me to hit my mom.

  Louder and louder his voice became.

  I hated the feeling and wanted to scream and run, but I knew it would be worse for my mom if I did. I didn’t want him to hurt her anymore. I was tired of seeing him hurt her. She never did anything to deserve it. He had no mercy, and he would laugh and only hit us harder. He said we deserved it, and he would call us all sorts of names. Some I understood, others I didn’t.

  “NOW,” he roared so loud I thought he broke my eardrum.

  I could still feel the vibrations of his tone as I hysterically begged, “Please, Sir, I don’t want to … please…” I couldn’t control my tears any longer, and they flowed loosely down my face. I could taste them in my mouth, and it was hard for me to see through each one of them.

  “How many times do I have to tell you that real men don’t fucking cry! You will grow up to be just like me. Just like your father—that I can promise you!”

  I didn’t want to grow up and be like him. I didn’t want to be anything like the man behind me. He was evil. I hated him, and in that moment, at ten years old, I learned the true meaning of the word.

  “DO IT! NOW!”

  I closed my eyes, praying that it would all go away. I silently prayed to God that he wouldn’t make me do this. That he would stop time or that this was just a bad dream. That it wasn’t real. But when I turned to face her, and he ordered me to open my eyes and hit her, I learned in that second, in that moment, that there was no God, or if there was, that he didn’t listen or care about my mother and me.

  If he did … what followed next would have never happened.

  “When you aim a cat o’ nine tails at someone, you make damn sure that you make them bleed. Do you understand, Donovan?”

  My mama’s face would forever haunt my dreams. She didn’t look sad or terrified … nothing of what I imagined she would. Not that I thought about this ever, but sometimes in my dreams, I’d see her in front of me, saying goodbye. The expression on her face was always devastated; she didn’t want to leave.

  Though here, she looked relieved as if I were setting her free.

  Letting her go.

  I didn’t want her to leave… What would happen to me if she were gone?

  “No, Sir!” I screamed, not caring about the repercussions. “Please don’t make me do this, please, Sir, please,” I mercifully pleaded.

  “DO. IT!”

  “Please, Master, please don’t make him do this… Have mercy… God … please don’t do this…” She came out of the daze she was in seconds before.

  But he didn’t wait any longer, and the first slap fell across her back. My hand was pinned beneath his, and even though I wasn’t the one inflicting the pain, I still felt it in every inch of my body.

  He didn’t stop.

  He never stopped.

  He made me hit her until she wasn’t moving.

  Until she wasn’t breathing.

  Until all I could see…

  Was her bloody and lifeless body.

  I was crying, petrified, knowing nothing would be the same after this.

  I knew that like I knew his name, Sir.

  “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m so sorry,” I openly bawled, barely containing my shaking body and voice as I tried to move her.

  The next thing I knew, he backhanded me across the face so hard that I flew across the room. I hit the floor with a thud and immediately hurt all over.

  My head was throbbing, and the room was spinning.

  It was only just the beginning.

  I wanted her arms around me.

  Her comfort.

  Her warmth.

  Her love.

  He crudely grabbed my chin, making me look into his dark eyes. “Look what you did, Donovan. You finally proved your worth!”

  It didn’t matter how many times I had this nightmare play out from my memory; I will never forget what he said next.

  It was what made me who I am today.

  In my harsh reality, he made me look into his devious glare.

  “You’re going to be just like me, and one day, you’re going to thank me for it.”

  “NOOOO!” I screamed, gasping for air, sitting straight up in bed.

  I was sweating profusely, my mind disoriented, and my bed soaked beneath me. I couldn’t tell the difference between my dream and reality. I was shaking all over, and I couldn’t catch my breath.

  “Are you okay?”

  My gaze locked with Juliet’s. I must have passed out in her bed with her in my arms.

  “What happened?” she whispered, her lips trembling. Reminding me of my mother. “What happened to you? Who is Sir?”

  My eyes widened. “My, my, pet. What big ears you have.”

  “You were screaming.”

  I was right back in that room with him. It didn’t matter that Juliet was in front of me; all I could see.

  Hear.

  Feel.

  Was him.

  “Please tell me your name?”

  There was something about the way she requested that broke me out of the trancelike state, but I couldn’t confess my sins.

  At least not right now.

  Juliet

  I could see the shift in his stare.

  I was playing with fire, and that didn’t for one se
cond stop me from wanting to know the truth about him. Especially his name.

  “Please don’t make me do this, please, Sir, please.”

  His terrified tone reminded me so much of my own.

  “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m so sorry.”

  My head swirled with aftershocks of what I overhead and the way he was looking at me. It held so much sincerity and humanity as if he was another man who was suddenly caring.

  “Please tell me your name,” I requested again.

  But it was over before it even began.

  He crudely grabbed the back of my neck, pushing me down onto the floor on my knees in front of him. His fingers raked through my scalp before he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled my head back. I watched him unzip his pants and release his hard, thick cock.

  “Look at me. Let me see your eyes.”

  I did as I was told, peering into the eyes of the man that reminded me of everything that had gone wrong in my life.

  This was the first time I’d seen his dick, and it was quite a sight. Still gripping onto my hair, in one quick movement, he thrust his cock right into my mouth with no warning. I gagged at the sensation, his head hitting the back of my throat. Sliding back out and all the way in, he repeated this a couple more times.

  I wanted to bite down, and of course, he read my mind.

  “Try it and watch how fast I make you bleed for me.” Holding me tighter, he ordered, “Push out your tongue. I want my cock all the way in; don’t fight me.”

  I expected him to thrust back in. I was confused when he plugged my nose with his fingers instead.

  “You breathe when I fucking let you.”

  Once again, he shoved his cock to the back of my throat, not letting go of my nose. My head hit the mattress, and I couldn’t move. He didn’t stop until my lips met his groin, and he held me there for several long seconds.

  “Look at me. How am I supposed to know when to let you breathe if I can’t see your eyes?”

  He pulled out, and I gasped for air while an uncontrollable amount of drool and tears slid down the side of my mouth. Growling and grunting the entire time he fucked my face.

  He loosened his hold and let go of my nose, sliding out his dick.

  “Breathe.”

  I did.

  Thrusting back in, he used my mouth in the way he seemed fit. I’d never given a blow job before, and I knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d take a first from me.

  Should I be grateful he started off with this?

  He continued this process until he couldn’t take it anymore and came with such force that my entire body shook from his spasms. His hold tightened, making it almost impossible to catch my breath, with an intensity I had never experienced.

  Crouching down to my level, he demanded, “Swallow.” When I did, he praised, “You’re such a good girl.”

  I smiled, seeking out his attention. Almost falling on my ass as soon as he added…

  “I’m always your master, but my name is Donovan.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Juliet

  I had no sense of time. I didn’t even know how long he’d left me in that room alone. It could have been a few hours or a few days; everything was beginning to blend together. I wasn’t tied to the bed anymore, and I had the liberty to move around. My bones hurt, and my jaw was tender.

  Every time I thought about why it was sore, my body tingled in a way it hadn’t before. I started to think about what it would be like to have him inside of me. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew this was a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome, textbook shit. My picture should be in the dictionary, next to the definition.

  Of course, this was what he craved. He was a sick sociopath that I couldn’t stop thinking about. Something happened the last time we were together. I didn’t know if it was his dream that I witnessed, or him using my mouth as comfort, or maybe it was the fact that he finally told me his name.

  All I knew was that I missed him terribly.

  Thought about his handsome, devious face.

  Dreamt of his hands, his tongue, his cock on me, in me.

  What sick twisted game I was playing without knowing the rules or guidelines. It was becoming a slippery slope, my need for his presence, his attention, his body on top of mine.

  My mind couldn’t decide what state it wanted to be in other than confused and tormented. I honestly didn’t know where it came from, all the emotions and feelings. Like a prey, I was caught in his spider web of lies and deceit, and the sad part was I wanted to believe I could change him. All the times he touched me and told me I was his.

  It felt real.

  Sincere.

  Consuming.

  I thought about him when I was alone and even when I was lying in his arms. It didn’t matter that I knew it was wrong.

  Seedy.

  Ugly.

  And destroying.

  I fantasized about all the things he could do to me.

  Trying to take my thoughts and desires away from Donovan, Master… I grabbed the silk nightgown on the dresser and put it on. Next, I decided I should use the vanity that was in the corner of the room. Slowly, I made my way over to the seat and sat. Looking at myself in the mirror, I still didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. Grabbing the brush, I began brushing my new shoulder-length blonde hair for the first time. Something about the repetition had me finally relaxed enough to take what felt like my first deep breath since being kidnapped by Donovan’s men.

  Moments later, I heard the door unlock, followed by his footsteps. I’d recognize them anywhere; I didn’t have to turn to know who it was. I stopped brushing, imagining a world where he took the brush and ran it down my hair, holding me tight, telling me that he never wanted to let me go and that he was sorry.

  I could be with a man like that.

  A man who was strong but who knew my limitations and didn’t push them for his sick pleasure. And yet, I still liked the man standing behind me. As much as I wanted to cling to disgust, it was there, that feeling in my chest. Like denying your heart needed to beat was denying he had an effect on me.

  “Donovan,” I murmured under my breath, loving the way it fell off my lips. Wanting so badly to have his hands on me again.

  I waited for his next command, trying to internalize everything I was feeling, but I knew he could smell it on me, feel it in the thick air between us. It was evident he knew me better than I knew myself. My eyes met his when the door shut behind him. His stare went from calm to the treacherous storm that lived inside of him.

  “Pet, where did you get that?” he questioned in an eerie tone.

  I looked around the room, perplexed by what he was talking about. I didn’t know how to answer, and the last thing I wanted was to get it wrong again.

  “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Why must you always test my patience, Juliet? It’s almost as if you want to provoke me.”

  “I-I-I-I…”

  “You-you-you … what?” he mocked, walking toward me.

  I couldn’t take it anymore as my body and mind continued to betray me.

  “I don’t know what you mean!” I found myself shouting, biting the inside of my cheek, and trying to suppress the emotions that were taking control of my being. I bit my cheek so hard I tasted blood, getting it on my lips.

  “Is that any way to talk to your master? Where is your respect? Who am I, Juliet? Don’t make me ask you twice,” he growled it out in a way that was so terrifying I started to shake. I almost preferred the yelling.

  I hesitated for a second. “Master…”

  He grinned, folding his arms over his chest. “Who am I, pet?”

  I swallowed hard. More games, more uncertainty.

  “No … not Master. Who am I? I know you want to say it. Here’s your chance … call me by my name, just like you’ve been dying to.”

  I whimpered. “I don’t want to play these games. Just do what you want to me.”

  My stomach churned, and I could practically ta
ste the bile at the back of my throat.

  He was standing in front of me when he gripped onto the silk fabric by my chest, and in one fluid motion, he tore it in half—all the way down my body until the gown pooled by my feet. The solitary comfort I had was now stripped away from me. Once he was done, there was no movement or sound for several minutes, and I wondered if he was admiring my body or thinking of all the ways to invoke pain.

  Leaning forward, he licked from one corner of my lip to the other. My blood was on his tongue, and our eyes never wavered as he slid it into his mouth and swallowed without any hesitation.

  “Get up.”

  I moved slowly, not wanting to upset him, and the second I stood, he threw the hairbrush across the room, and I was dropped to the ground. With my ass in the air and my forehead resting on the wooden floor, he snatched my arms and held them at my back.

  “How many times do I have to tell you that this is how you address me when I walk into the room. Head down, ass up, arms locked behind you. You stay just like this until I tell you otherwise. Understood?”

  I nodded, bracing myself for what was to come.

  “Now, where did you get the nightgown and hairbrush, Juliet?”

  “It was in the room when I woke up.”

  “That motherfucker.”

  “What—”

  “What’s my name, pet?”

  “I told you already. It’s Master.”

  “If you don’t give me the answer that I want, I’m going to turn your sweet little ass bright red.”

  “Mas—”

  Slap.

  “This is what you want, isn’t it, Juliet?”

  “No!”

  Slap.

  “No?”

  Slap.

  Slap.

  Slap.

  “I don’t like being lied to.”

  “I’m not lying!”

  “Bullshit!”

  Slap.

  Slap.

  Slap.

  “Call me by my name!”

  I couldn’t take it anymore, screaming, “Donovan!”

  No one could have prepared me for what happened next. It was like I had an out-of-body experience. I watched myself from above, falling to this deep, submissive slumber I didn’t think was possible.

  I was exhausted from trying to be what he wanted.