“I might.”
I swallow. I didn’t peg him to be that type of person. But I can tell that he means business.
“Or they will,” he says. “We’re not safe here. This is a public hallway; we need to get out of sight.” He steps forward and before I can walk backward, he’s already hooked his arm around mine. “Now, c’mon.” He drags me through the hallway.
“No!”
“If you come now, I promise I won’t hurt you … at least, not in a way you won’t like.”
“Why should I believe you?”
He stops in his tracks and looks back at me. “Because I need you. I won’t kill you, but I could …” His voice chokes up a bit. “I could hurt you if I wanted to. If you ran away again …” He clears his throat. His voice thickens as he says, “You will learn to trust me again.”
“I lost faith in you the moment I remembered that you stood there and forced me to witness Ashley being brutalized by those monsters. You’re no better than them,” I snarl.
“I agree. That is why I’m doing all of this.” He narrows his eyes. “I will make this all go away.”
I snort. “Yeah, just like all those doctors at the institution. They thought they could make it go away, too.”
“I can’t change the past,” he says, “but I will change our future. Starting right now.”
He pulls me through the hallway. Even with a gunshot wound, he’s still stronger than I am. It’s like the wound has no effect on him. I struggle, but he manages to pull me into the elevator. I try to get out, but he’s quicker with pressing the buttons, and as the door closes, I feel the barrel of his shotgun press against my shoulder.
“You wouldn’t …” I hiss.
“I would. A bullet to the shoulder won’t kill you. Sure, it will hurt all right; I know so myself.” He laughs as if it’s funny that he just was shot by one of his buddies.
“But you’ll survive.” He grabs my shoulder and turns me around to face him. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you close to me.”
“Even if I’m close to you physically, you will never, never, claim my heart again,” I growl.
Then I spit in his face. I felt the urge so I went with it.
All the bubbled up anger bursts out through my mouth. “You’re disgusting. I hate you.”
He fishes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the spit from his face, smiling the entire time.
“Dirty little fairy … I guess I’ll have to punish you for that behavior.” He smiles wickedly. “The more you say never … the harder I’ll try to convince you of the opposite.”
He comes closer, lowering the gun on his side, but pushing it further into my flesh upwards. “I will make you love me, whether you like it or not. One way or another. You will writhe on my cock, undulate under my tongue, and scream my name, begging me for love. Oh, yes … I’ll make you beg all right. Forever and ever … until you’ll want nothing more than me. Not even freedom itself will measure up. And you know what else? Like you, I will never, ever, give up.”
Accompanying Song: “Exile” by Hurts
Providence, Rhode Island – June 3nd, 2013, morning
I drag her to a room on the uppermost level. It’s a hidden room, just beyond the narrow corridor that is usually overlooked by everyone walking through here. Number 569, a room no one but me knows exists. The room that I had built especially for her.
“What are we doing in here?” she says. “We have to get away from here. If they find out we’re here―”
“They won’t. We’re only here for a few hours, and they don’t know this room exists.”
“Hours?” She raises an eyebrow, so I do the same, a wicked smile spreading on my lips. Her eyes widen when she figures out what I’m going to do with her here.
“No …”
“Yes …” I grin.
“Not now. You can’t do this. It’s not safe. I don’t want this.”
“Don’t lie to me, Miss Carrigan. You still desire me, even if you’re disgusted with me,” I muse. “Besides, I need to do this now. Not just because my cock is all riled up from chasing you …”
I lick my lips while I push her against the door, fiddling with my key. I’m about to fiddle with her if I don’t find it quickly enough. “But also because this is the only way to make them stop right now.”
“How? How is this going to make them stop?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” I say, unlocking the door and pulling her inside with me.
“You just want to use me for your own pleasure,” she scoffs.
I close the door behind us as she stumbles inside, and then I place the gun on the table. I turn around to her, smiling. “Perhaps.”
She flushes as I step closer, her hands instinctively crossing over her chest to protect herself. I grab her arms and force them apart. “Don’t. Don’t hide yourself from me.”
“You’re ugly on the inside, you know that?”
My smile dissipates immediately. As much as I want to say it doesn’t, it hurts when she says that. I wish it were different, I wish that she wouldn’t think of me that way, but I completely understand why she does. It’s my fault.
I sigh. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re just saying it to spite me.”
“If I was, it sure worked,” she muses.
I ignore her taunt. “I’m going to prove to you that I can be more than a bastard,” I say.
“I doubt that.”
“I care about you more than you realize.”
“I don’t believe it. Why? What am I to you?”
“Hmmm …” I stalk closer, and she backs away. She’s terrified of me, even though she should be terrified of something else entirely.
“I’ll tell you after I’m done ravaging you.” I bite my lip shortly and her eyes dart toward my mouth for a second. I knew it.
“Try,” she says.
“Oh … I will,” I say, groaning a little. “You can’t resist me, even if you wanted to.”
“Maybe, but I won’t stop trying.”
I smile coyly. “You do that. And I’ll keep proving you wrong.”
She frowns, almost growling as she sighs. It makes me chuckle. “I love it when you’re upset with yourself.”
“With you, you mean.”
I stare her dead in the eye. “No. As much as you tell yourself that, it’s not true. You’re not angry with me for doing this to you; you’re angry with yourself for letting me get to you. For letting me conquer your heart.”
She freezes. I have her now.
I step closer and closer, but the more she tries to hide that heart of her, the more I hear it beat. Loud and clear. There’s nothing she can do to keep her frost from melting into a puddle.
“You feel sorry for me, don’t you?” I say.
She crosses her arms again and looks away. “No,” she scoffs.
“Yes, you do. I saw how you looked at me in the car. How you’re looking at me now. You want to hate me, but instead, you feel pity and desire.”
I cup her chin and make her look at me. “Tell me the truth. Do you feel sorry for me because I told you that story back in the car?”
“Maybe.”
Her face scrunches up and I spot a hint of regret in her eyes. So it’s true. She pities me. I hate that look. I hate not being good enough, not being looked up to, not feeling worthy. Anger boils inside me, and in a fit of rage, I grab her arms and drag her back to the door, pinning her front against it.
She screams. “What are you doing?”
“Doing what I should’ve done sooner.”
I push her neck down, forcing her to bend over. In one go, I rip off the only shredded bottom part of her dress that was still attached. She squeals, but I push her head down further and tap her legs with my feet. “Spread.”
“What’s wrong with you?” she yells as she spreads her legs under my control.
My cock is already growing firm, but I must res
train myself from fucking her. She doesn’t deserve it. She has to be punished for her disobedience first. For her insolence. For insulting me with her pity.
“I’m going to spank you now,” I say with a harsh voice. Before she can speak another word, my hand has already made contact with her ass, making her scream.
“Count them,” I growl.
“No!”
I spank her harder, leaving a red mark. Her cries of pain bring goosebumps to my skin.
“What did I do?” she asks.
Good. I want her to think that it’s her fault. It is. She angered me.
“First, you spit in my face, and then you feel pity for me after I told you what you wanted to hear. You’re rude, Miss Carrigan. You need to be corrected … hard … first with my hand, and then with my cock.”
“Fuck you! You threatened me and then you told me this sob story like that’s all supposed to make it okay?” There is anger in her voice but also sadness. I can hear from the way the pitch fluctuates with each word. No matter what she says, the words that slip from her tongue are lies. The emotions that accompany them tell the truth.
“Nothing will make it okay. Nothing. I did what I did because I had to do it. And trust me, I am trying to make amends. But I will do it one way, Miss Carrigan. My way. You do not have pity on me, Miss Carrigan. You need to respect me.”
“Fuck you!”
I spank her so hard that she raises her head to scream.
“And that’s for the swearing,” I say. “What did I say about respect?”
“Respect is earned by trust,” she murmurs, hissing from the pain that I’m causing her ass.
“Indeed it is, which is why I will make you trust me again. It’ll take some time, but you’ll learn why you should soon enough.” I push my ring finger into my mouth and lick it to lift this punishment to a new level.
“As if I could ever trust you again,” she spits. “It was a mistake to ever do so in the first place.”
Without warning, I push my ring finger into her ass. She squeals then a full-out moan pours from her. I don’t think that she meant for me to hear it because she cusses straight after, making me laugh.
“It was not a mistake, Miss Carrigan. You’ll see. Someday.” I push further in, filling her up as far as I can go. It must hurt, with my finger in her ass and my other hand coming down on her cheeks. I love how she tenses up each time I smack her, feeling her tighten around my finger. I moan along with her shouts.
“Purr for me, little fairy,” I say. “I love the sounds you make.”
“Go to hell …”
I chuckle. “I’m already there, Miss. And so are you.”
“You’re right … my own personal hell.”
“Except this hellfire is so very lickable,” I joke. “And with fire I mean you.” I stroke her ass softly, which makes her squirm. The hot flashes it must give her … hmm …
Focus, Sebastian. This is a punishment after all, not a pleasurable activity. Although, I can’t deny that I am inclined to turn this into a hot tongue-on-skin game when this is over. My cock has an appetite, too, and it’s hungry now.
I pull my finger from her ass. “Now, I want you to count or I will keep you here for as long as you refuse.”
My hand comes down again, and then she says the word. “One.”
Finally, she’s stopped arguing. Riveting. Just the sound of her voice as she gives in to me is breathtaking. I need it. I need the overpowering sense of dominance right now. To forget about pity and focus on power, on lust, so I can forget about being sorry for myself.
“Two!” she yells as my hand comes down again.
Each blow is harder than the previous, and her skin is growing redder by the second. I love that strawberry color, the color that makes me want to bite her cheeks. Not yet, not yet … My cock is springing up from the idea alone.
As the tenth blow arrives, she starts to moan. I don’t know if it’s from the pain or from arousal, but I’ll find out soon enough. Her hands are on the door to support herself, but her body is giving in to me. She’s shaking on her legs, but her muscles have lost their will to fight. She’s enduring now. Just living through the moment and waiting for it to pass. It’s futile. I know that what I’m doing now will stay with her forever, exactly as I intended it.
I want my image, my feel, my touch, my control to embed in her memory forever, so that when she loses me, she’ll still keep a part of me with her, wherever she may go.
She doesn’t know it yet, but I do. I realized the moment they found out she escaped that I was bound to lose her someday. Whether by choice or by force, I will make sure to leave an unforgettable impression.
It’s all I have left. Her and her memories of me—however sweet, crude, sexy, or vile they may be. They are real, and they are the truth. No one can take that from us. Not even them.
As I spank her for the last time, her voice strains to pronounce the last number. “Fifteen.”
“Good little fairy,” I say, rubbing her ass.
Her cheeks tense as I touch her, probably because she’s afraid that I will hurt her again. This idea—that she is scared of me, intimidated by me—makes me even harder.
“Now, what do we say?”
“I’m sorry, Mister Brand, for spitting in your face.”
“Good. And …?”
“And?” she repeats.
“Thank me.”
She frowns, smashing her lips together to hide her anger. “Thank you, Mister Brand,” she growls.
“For what?”
“For spanking me.”
I smile victoriously. Even when it’s forced, I love to hear her say those words. “Will you behave?”
“Yes, Mister Brand.”
“Let’s see if you are ready for me now …”
“No,” she says.
“What’s that?” I say, squeezing her ass firmly.
“I don’t want that.”
“Yes, you do.”
My hand drifts down between her legs, cupping her pussy. Applying pressure with my fingers causes her to suck in a breath. I groan as her wetness spills onto my hand.
“You say that you don’t want me, but your pussy tells me that you do. Desperately.”
I push my index finger into her pussy, deeper and deeper until she bucks and squeezes her ass together.
Every time my cock bounces in my pants, I have to remind myself that I’m here with a purpose.
“Hmmm … Time for that pussy to remember who it belongs to.”
Accompanying Song: “Body Electric” by Lana Del Rey
Room 569. Providence, Rhode Island – June 3nd, 2013
“Stay there,” I say.
She whimpers, sinking down to her knees, defeated. I walk to the table, grab a butt plug and some lube from the drawer, and bring it back to her. I rub the lube all over the butt plug and then over her butt. She doesn’t flinch at all. She doesn’t even look at me when I raise her ass and push the plug in. Not a sound escapes her mouth. She’s trying to stay strong, even after I humiliated her, degraded her, and showed her not to mess with me.
“Keep that in there.” I grab her wrists, pulling her up and tugging her away from the door. She stumbles backward, looking confused as I spin her around in my arms.
“Have you even looked around this room yet, Miss Carrigan?”
Her eyes narrow, but then widen in shock as she gazes around the room. I know what she sees. White tiles on the floors and walls, one single, bright lamp hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the single bed in the middle.
“The hospital …” she murmurs.
“Yes,” I say. “This is a replica, including the bed with restraints.”
“Why would you do such a thing?” she says, trying to rescue herself, but to no avail.
I pull her with me to the bed, pushing her forward so she’ll sit down. “Because this is the only way to keep them at bay.”
She shivers as I pull her arms up to the bedpost and grab the binds that ar
e there for me to use. I pin down her wrists and put the binds around them. She jerks her arms, attempting to break free.
“See that gun over there?” I say, glancing at it perched against the wall near the door. “It can still hurt you if you don’t listen to me.”
“You said you wouldn’t.”
“I said I didn’t want to, but it doesn’t mean that I won’t if you don’t listen. This has to be done. You will just have to accept it and endure.”
Tears form in her eyes as I tie her ankles to the bed as well, chaining her up. Now, normally I would do all of this with ropes and add a little embellishment on her tits as well, but unfortunately, this is all for show and a little less for my own excitement.
I walk to the table and open the drawer. I placed a camera in here long ago, a cheap, disposable one, specifically for situations such as these. As I turn around toward her and snap a few pictures, she frowns and gapes at me. “What are you going to do with those?”
“The same as I did with the video.”
“You’re going to add them to your ‘personal collection’?” she retorts.
“Clever,” I say, chuckling. “But no, although, now that you mention it, I would love to look at these again after some time. Stroke my cock to it. Come all over your picture.” I smile deviously. “Make you watch me while I do it.”
She pulls up her nose for me, but I can clearly spot the redness on her cheeks. She likes the idea.
“Tell me the truth, for once,” she suddenly says.
I stop. Somehow, this plea worms its way directly into my heart. I don’t know why I feel compelled to do as she asks, but I want to. So I place down the camera and walk to her, caressing her cheek with my finger.
“I need these pictures as proof.”
“Proof for what?”
“That I took you back to the hospital. So they’ll believe me when I see them again, and they won’t hunt you anymore.”
“So you’re going to show them pictures of me?” she says.
“Trust me when I say that I’d rather keep these all to myself, Miss Carrigan, but you must understand that I would not only risk your life but my own as well if I do not show them these. They need to trust me. And you need to trust me with this.”
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