“Suck,” I demand. “Suck it all up.”
Tears spring into her eyes as I go deeper and faster. I can’t stop myself anymore. I’m overcome with lust, by the need to dominate and claim. I feel like an animal, but I don’t care at all right now. I need this out of my system. If that means using her, so be it. She’ll get her turn soon enough.
“Take it!” I growl, shoving my cock inside her throat. “Deep … deeper.”
I moan loud, feeling my dick throb against her tongue. However, I think I’ll give her the satisfaction of coming at the same time. I want to see the regret in her eyes as she falls apart with my cum seeping down her throat, wishing she’d fled instead of pursuing me.
I grab the rope running down her spine and tug, pushing it deeper into her pussy. She moans and inhales sharply, tensing up.
“Hmmm … time for that pussy to come,” I say, taking out my dick before I blow. I walk to the cabinet. My dick bounces up and down when I spot the vibrator on the bottom. I take it out of the drawer and bring it to her backside, where I push it underneath the rope, right on top of her clit. “There.” And then I turn it on.
“Oh …” She squirms in the chair.
“Like that?” I raise an eyebrow as I go to stand in front of her.
She flushes, looking away, so I grab her chin and force her to look at me. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes, Mister Brand.”
“Are you just saying that because you think that’s what I want to hear?”
“No, Mister Brand.”
I smile. “Good. But you can’t come unless I say you can. Or this’ll hurt a lot more …”
Pushing my cock against her lips, I wait until she parts them before shoving it back inside her mouth again. “Make it nice and wet.”
She sucks and licks on my cock, whimpering from the vibrator pushing her to her limits. I love the sounds she makes as the intensity increases. I set it to increase over time, wanting to see the neediness in her as she shivers from delight.
“Don’t try to stop it. You can’t,” I say. “Now take me deep and suck hard. I’m going to make this beautiful mouth mine tonight. Don’t stop sucking until I say so.”
As I take out my cock for a second, she moans, “Please.”
“Please what?”
“It’s too much. I’m … I’m coming.”
She groans as I rub her lips with my cock. “Not good enough. Beg me.”
“Please …”
“Yes?”
“Please … Can I come, Mister Brand?”
I knew I’d have her begging before this night was over. “When I say you can.” I smile then thrust into her mouth, my cock pulsating with need. “Oh, God yes.” I’m about to explode, and so is she. I can tell by the way she’s rocking her ass up and down. Oh yes, I’m going to fill her up, and she’s going to love every second of it. “Come. Now,” I growl.
She moans as the vibrator pushes her to her limit, unable to stop the waves from flooding her. My cock pulsates in her mouth, and I let out a roar. “Fuck!” I spill my load into her throat as she shakes violently, coming apart at the same time. My cum fills her mouth to the brim, and it keeps coming. “Take it. Swallow it all,” I growl, still coming. “Milk my cock until every last drop is gone.”
I don’t remember the last time I came this hard, and I don’t think she does, either. Her body is still bucking, her legs trembling underneath her. Moans and gasps come from her mouth as I take my flaccid cock out. It drips from her mouth, so I brush my clean finger past her lips and dip it in, wiping it on her tongue. “Eat it all up.”
She closes her mouth, her body dwindling in strength. Her eyes close and a loud sigh comes out. I step back, breathing heavily. Sweat drops roll down my forehead. My legs are wobbly, so I grab a chair and fall down in it. From there, I watch her. I simply gaze at the woman in my home with whom I just had crazy, wild sex. It’s been a while, and the heaviness of it shakes me up a bit. Her bright red hair tumbles down her back, her body still as if she’s given up. Her hands are limp and her legs are unable to hold on. Eyes closed, body unmoving. No sound. For a second, I wonder if I killed her.
Why I think this baffles me. She couldn’t die from sex.
However, the fact alone that it crosses my mind means I have done something irrevocable to her. Something that will probably scar her for life.
It is then that I realize I am a monster.
A captive beauty, plundered by the beast. She is right; I’m cruel.
Swallowing, I come up from my seat and grab the knife from the table. Her eyes don’t even shoot open the moment she hears the flicking sound. She just hangs there, defeated. It’s all my doing.
I cut the rope around her neck first, granting her freedom before continuing with the rest. The job is meticulous, since I tied the ropes so well, but I don’t stop until all parts are gone and she’s free again. As the last piece is removed, I move to her ass and take out the butt plug. Her silence scares me a little. I grab the vibrator from the chair and place everything on the table, gazing at her. All she does is lower her ass, letting it rest on the chair. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even acknowledge I’m there. Her head hangs from the edge of the chair, facing the floor, her hair cascading down in beautiful flames. The fiery woman who refused to give up on being with me is ruined. I destroyed her insane fairytale wish, shattered her resistance, and fucked her until it broke her.
Fuck …
I sit down on the chair. Planting my elbows on my knees, I bury my head in my hands. Of all people, she is the last who should see my regret. I’m truly sick. I took her against her will, telling myself I did it to keep her safe, but the truth is that I am mostly scared. Scared of the consequences if anyone finds out she’s close to me. It would mean my end.
However, in the back of my mind, I know I’m doing the right thing. That’s what I keep telling myself. Make her hate me, make her hate me. Then she’ll be safe. She might not know why … but it would ruin her all the same if she knew. I want to be her dark knight, but maybe I went too far this time. The psycho in me took over, wanting to claim her and mark her as my own, so that her submission could turn into a double-edged sword of love and hatred, but in the process, I destroyed what I deemed as my only shot at winning this fucked-up game: Her.
Accompanying Song: “The 2nd Law – Isolated System” by Muse
Providence, Rhode Island – April 30th, 2013, night
Stone cold. My body, my heart, my soul. I feel nothing.
Nothing but emptiness. Stripped of all that makes me human.
Even though my bright red hair cascades in front of my eyes, I see no color. There is only blackness surrounding me. I hear the noises but don’t register them. His feet shuffling closer. The chair moving. My body being picked up and draped over his arms like a feeble being. My hands and legs are limp, my eyes closed. Like a rag, I hang in his grasp. Lifeless. Exhausted.
I don’t feel the burn on my ass anymore or the fullness of the butt plug, nor do I feel the sharp pain of the ropes cutting into my flesh. In an effort to protect itself, my mind has blocked out all sense of reality. Right now, nothing matters. Not the fact that I was abducted. Not the fact that I’ve been used, humiliated, spanked, and violated. Not the fact that I didn’t fight him. And not even the fact that the same man who did this all to me is now carrying me someplace else.
I don’t know where we’re going. All I can feel is his warm hands around my waist and his heart beating faster and faster. He smells just like I remember, like the man who saved me before. I know this man, and yet I don’t. It confuses me, terrifies me, but also sparks a curiosity in me that I cannot ignore. Whether or not he is a cruel, vile man, there is something about him that makes it impossible for me to shut myself off completely. He keeps something hidden … something hopeful.
Sebastian places me down in the bed ever so gently, peeling off my dress like a cocoon that was wrapped around me. He continues until I’m completely naked and
then covers my body with a thin sheet before draping another blanket over me. I sense his body close, his lingering scent soothing me.
“My little fairy … Someday I will show you there is always light in the darkness, even when all hope is lost. Even if there is nothing, there is still you. You are the light that pushes away the darkness.”
Covering my forehead with the palm of his hand, he lets out a puff of air before lifting it again. A glass of water is held close to my lips. “Drink.” His command is easy to follow, easy to process, easy to forgive. It’s strange to believe one would listen to their captor, but when you’ve been punished for disobeying, you learn to accept the simplest commands. If only to avoid more punishment.
After taking a few sips, I let my head rest on the pillow. He sets the glass down on a table beside me and then leans in. “Sleep now. You’ll need your energy.”
I’m not awake enough to question his motives or the hidden message behind his words. After his brutality, I’m perplexed by the sudden change in his behavior. He brought me to a bed, covered me with warmth, gave me water, and gave me food. Soft strokes of his fingers brush my hair aside, plucking single hairs from my face. His index finger lingers on my cheek, slipping down to my lips to caress them.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers. He cradles my hand with his as if I’m a sick, lonely child. For some reason, I take comfort in the thought that he’s touching me in a loving way, almost as if he’s trying to say sorry with his fingers instead of his words. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, but I can’t block them out either. I am weak. A woman in need of guidance, care, and love. And in this moment of pure anxiety, fear, and pain, he is the only one willing to give it to me. The same man who took what was mine to give is now comforting me in the most debouch way, and I need it.
A delicate peck is placed on my cheek. He keeps his lips on me, prolonging the skin-to-skin contact. A moment of pure honesty from one human being to another. Vulnerable and shaken, that’s how I feel. With this one kiss, he negates every cruel thing he has done to me tonight. As if whatever happened should be forgiven, and this is his way of apologizing. This kiss seals the deal.
Tears spring in my eyes, but I’m too tired to let them run. Too tired to fight it all. I’m falling for his touch, desperately clinging to this sole relief. For a second, it crosses my mind that it might have all been in my head. That everything was just some sick fantasy. This thought is atrocious, and yet it’s my only escape from reality. His hands are my lifeline.
I needed someone to love, and in the end, I’ve found exactly the opposite.
But maybe he’s right. Maybe there is light in the darkness. And maybe I can find hope within his wretched truth.
It’s then that I realize something. This is not the end. Anguish has only just begun. The way I deal with it will become my only means to survive.
It is the first night in a long while that I dream of my mother. Her long, dark hair falls just below her shoulders, accentuating the cutout dress she’s wearing. She laughs at the men she’s talking with, casually playing with the olive in her drink. Sometimes she casually touches their arms or swipes her hair away. With my arms folded, I watch her from a distance. The music and chatter of other people doesn’t block out the fascinating conversations I know she’s having. There are four of them, all concentrated on her as if she’s the star of the show. It doesn’t surprise me one bit. Not because of the fact that she organized this whole charity event, but because this is how it always goes, no matter where she is. Men flock to her side as if she was honey and they’re the bees. When she winks at one of them, I roll my eyes and look away.
I can’t watch this any longer. Annoyed, I put my own drink down on the table behind me and attempt to march toward her. I need to take her out of the spotlight before she does something she may regret. It’s not the first time she’s attempted to cheat on my father. One kiss was enough; I’m not allowing her to inflict more pain. No way in hell will I let her ruin her chance with him again. Alcohol was never a wise choice for my mother.
As I make my way through the crowd, someone grabs my hand. I turn around, ready to snarl and jerk myself loose, but I’m caught off guard by his beautiful blue eyes. My lips part, but nothing comes out. I can’t talk, mesmerized by the way he holds his gaze solely on me. His blond hair is tucked back into a ponytail, his face rigid, but his smile endearing. In a way, he seems both creepy as well as charming. I’m not sure what to think.
“Don’t interrupt,” he says.
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t want to be caught in the middle.” The way he speaks has a dizzying effect on me, like he’s controlling me with words alone.
“Caught in the middle of what?”
He leans in. “Danger.”
The way his eyes flash makes the hairs in the back of my neck stand up.
“Run …” he whispers. “Get out of here. Get away from her as fast as you can and don’t look back. Whatever you do … don’t return home.”
Fear settles in my eyes as I pry my hand loose and turn my head back toward my mother. I don’t know what he means, but it’s enough to make me want to go in there and bring her home with me right now. What did he mean? And who is he?
When I look around for him, he’s gone. Disappeared in the crowd.
Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter. Even if he’s right, I wouldn’t listen. I love my mother … I would never leave her or my father. Ignoring his advice is the easiest choice, because I can’t imagine not going home.
It was the first of a series of bad choices.
The walls flicker and the ground shakes underneath my feet. Everything disappears and I fall and fall into an endless gap in the earth. However, I don’t land flat on the ground. Instead, I find myself in the master bedroom of my house. My father lies ill in bed. The moment I spot him my heart sinks into my shoes. His face is pale; his red hair has fallen onto the sheets and pillow. A bucket filled with vomit is shoved under his bed. On his nightstand is a whole box full of anti-inflammatory drugs, along with a couple of bottles filled with water. He can barely open his eyes. The headaches are too much for him to bear. I can see it from the strained look on his face. Still, he finds the energy to look at me and mouth ‘I love you’. Tears spring into my eyes at the sight of him. His last days. I want to hug him, but my feet are cemented to the ground. I can’t move.
The bedroom spins and spins, until the walls are dark and the light is off. Suddenly, I’m in the living room. The television is on, blocking out the excruciating noises my father makes. I walk in on my mother watching a movie with a fat, bearded man. One of the men from the charity event. Her fingers are curled around his knee, his hands on her waist, sliding underneath her shirt. The fake smile plastered on her face makes me want to scream.
In fact, I do. My lungs hurt from the sound emanating from my body. I scream and scream until my ears feel like they are starting to bleed. My eyes open wide. I sit straight up, my heart beating so hard I feel like it’s about to burst from my chest. I’m covered in sweat, the blankets sticking to my body. Someone enters my room and runs toward me, placing his hand on my forehead. “Are you okay?”
I’m still too shaken up to talk. My breathing is shallow as I look around and tell myself to remember where I am. My throat muscles tighten, and I find it hard to breathe. The mere memory of my father brings me to tears. And just the thought of my mother … it makes my heart stop.
Voices come into my head. Whispers in the darkness, calling me.
“Come closer, child. Come see how beautiful she is now.”
All I see in front of me is blood staining the ground and reddened fur whirling through the air. Blood. Tissue. Flesh. My breath catches in my throat. I try to swallow but choke on my own saliva. In panic, I scream again, pushing the blankets and the man away. “No!” I yell.
I’m grabbed and pushed into the pillow, up against the wall. “Stop.”
“No!” I scream fighting to
get out.
Arms smother me, wrapping all around my body. I smell a familiar scent and focus on that as my only means to escape insanity. I can’t. I can’t deal with it …
Hiccups escape my mouth as I try to breathe. Tears run down my cheeks, and I feel the warmth emanating from us both. It’s him—Sebastian. Only now do I realize where I am. In his house.
His hands are stroking my back, gently patting me while he shushes me. “Calm down.” His voice is calm and soothing. I relax my muscles and let myself go in his arms. My face presses into his shirt, my nose inhaling his scent, trying to remember the man who saved me from it all. He’s here, he must be. This has to be him. There’s no other way, and I won’t accept no for an answer. I wouldn’t be able to cope if it weren’t true.
So I let him hug me and comfort me. I wrap my arms around him, sobbing into his shirt, letting every bit of emotion flow out of me. He doesn’t talk, and I don’t feel the need to do so either. All I need is his warm hands caressing me, his body pressed to mine. His breathing regulating mine. His strong muscles tranquilizing mine. His soft lips relieving the stress in my heart. Intimacy.
I calm down in his vicinity. At this moment, it’s needed. I didn’t forget what he did to me last night. I remember the fucked-up way he claimed my body as his. And yet, it doesn’t faze me right now. I’ve moved past the point of disgust and into a place where I can accept his shortcomings.
No matter how he twists my words, how he conjures up one lie after another, how he debases me for his own pleasure … I still need him. I need his love to mend the broken pieces of my soul.
When I’m done crying, he moves back and grabs my arm, one hand cupping my face. “It was only a dream.”
I try to believe him. I wish it were only a dream. Too bad, that’s not the case. His words from before repeat over and over in my head, until I start believing it myself. “Didn’t the doctors tell you not to believe in fairytales?”
Snare (Delirious book 1) Page 15