by J. L. Beck
His stormy blue eyes hold mine, a thousand emotions swirling deep in their depths.
“Why… Why would you try and escape? To go back to him, a man that sold you to me?” His legs hold me in place, and his fingers dig into my arms with bruising force. He looks like he is teetering on the edge of insanity, ready to nosedive into unknown waters. I don’t want to know what he has planned for me, but at that moment, I can’t think rationally.
Anger and sadness blend together, becoming one, and I snap. “You made him! You forced him to sell me! And what’s it matter? Why would I want to stay here with you? How are you any better?”
“You’re so naïve—such a stupid girl. Your father doesn’t care what happens to you. He would sell you to anyone, the highest bidder, no matter how cruel they were to you.”
“You’re lying! My father loves me. He wants me back! He said so himself.”
“Your father doesn’t want you back. He put a hit out on me, promising ten million and you as a prize to whoever kills me first. He doesn’t care where you are or what happens to you as long as you are not with me.”
Shaking my head, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to make sense of what he is telling me, but it doesn’t add up. “Why? Nothing you say makes sense.”
“He doesn’t want me to have you out of spite, he hates me, that’s all.”
“Is that why you want to kill us? You hate each other so much that death is the only answer?”
“Oh, sweet Elena. Who said I want you dead? I have much better plans for you. I only care about killing your father, but not before I make him watch us get married, making you mine completely. He can’t stand seeing me with you, not because he loves you, but because I took something from him. I took you, and now you are mine, and I think it’s about time you get that into your head.”
He moves off me, but retains his hold, pressing me deeper into the mattress. His hands work fast as he undresses me, ripping off my shirt and bra with one hand while holding me down with the other. I can feel the fabric giving away, the cool air against my skin, and for a moment, I’m frozen, then like someone snapped their fingers in front of my face, the cold releases its grip on me. My heart thunders in my chest, each beat rattling me to the core.
“What are you doing?” I croak, fear consuming me.
“You wanted me to fuck you a few hours ago, right? Or was that all a show? Did you think sex would throw me off? Did you think you could use it against me?” He studies me for a moment and continues, “I’m just giving you what you asked for.”
“Not like this,” I whimper, struggling against his grasps, which becomes tighter the more I thrash around.
“Too bad, you lost my mercy, and my patience when you betrayed me.”
“I’m sorry,” I sob, shoving at his chest, but he’s like trying to move a mountain, and I just don’t have the strength in me. Even with me struggling, he still manages to pull my jeans down with ease and rips off my panties like they are made out of paper.
Looking down at my now naked body, he smiles. The look in his eyes chills me to the bone, and I know whatever happens next will change us forever.
“You’re not sorry, but you will be by the end of the night.”
Fury burns through me with the heat of a thousand suns. “I hate you! I hate you so much! I knew you would do this. I knew you would hurt me, no matter what.”
“I haven’t hurt you yet, have I? I wasn’t going to hurt you at all–”
“Bullshit!” I scream. “You were always going to hurt me. You were just waiting for the right time. Waiting for me to disobey like I’m a fucking dog! You lock me in a cage, treat me like I’m an animal, and expect me to have no will and no feelings.” I curl my lip. “You are just like him. Just like the man you hate!”
In a split second, his hand is wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to warn me. “Don’t ever fucking compare me to your father,” he says, leaning in, his nose pressed against my cheek. I shouldn’t continue, should bite my tongue, and shut up, but I can’t. I won’t. I’m tired of being treated like a doormat.
“Then don’t act like him.”
His features twist, and his eyes go vacant as if he’s becoming someone else entirely.
“I’ve warned you. I’ve been warning you since the day you got here. You think I’ve been cruel to you? You haven’t seen a shred of my cruelty.”
He let’s go of me, but only long enough to flip me over onto my stomach. He shifts his weight off me but keeps a hand placed on the back of my neck, holding me in place. Items rustle together as he reaches for something in the nightstand, but I can’t lift my head up enough to look at what he’s grabbing.
A moment later, I feel it… the cold, unforgiving metal circling my wrist. Before I can react, it clicks into place. I pull my other wrist away, but he snatches it and slaps the handcuffs on with ease.
He moves completely off me now, but at this point, I have nowhere to go. I’m fully naked with my hands cuffed behind my back. If I wasn’t helpless before, I am without a doubt now.
Grabbing my ankles, he pulls me to the edge of the bed, so I’m bent over, my legs hanging down, and my butt jutted out and exposed to him.
I hold my breath as I feel his hand running over my backside.
“Don’t do this,” I plead, unsure of what he even plans to do.
“There are consequences for your actions. I could hurt you in much worse ways then I’m going to.” His gruff voice makes me shiver, and shock rips through me when a moment later, his palm comes down on my ass.
The slap is as painful as it is shocking, and a light sting ripples across my cheek. He repeats the action, and the air expels from my chest at the next slap, my gut clenching. Tears prick my eyes, I don’t want to cry, don’t want to beg him to stop because I don’t want to be weak, but all he’s done is spank me twice, and my ass is already burning.
At the next slap, I whimper, and even as pain radiates across my ass, a warmth forms deep in my core. It’s sickening that such a heinous act is making me want him more. My treacherous body craves his touch without understanding the consequences. He will break me, rip me apart, take all the good from me, and lock me in a cage and throw away the key. He’s already done so, and he’ll do worse now that I tried to escape.
I can’t even comprehend what happens next. My ass throbs as he gives me ten more slaps on each cheek. It’s not meant to bring pleasure; this, I know. The sting and pain running along my ass intensifies further, and by the time he finishes, I’m sobbing into the mattress.
I’m frightened, my ass burning, but there is more beneath the pain, and I hate that I feel it, hate that he brings the worst out in me. I don’t want him, this man that plans to kill my father and use my body for whatever he wants, but I do. I still crave him, wanting him to touch me more.
The fragile trust we formed seems to have cracked down the middle, splitting in two. I might have caused part of this, but he delivered the final blow.
Even in the wake of pain, he massages my aching flesh, and I flinch at his touch, trying to ignore the way he cares for me only after inflicting pain.
I feel him move behind me; a shiver runs through me at the thought of what’s gonna happen next. His hands are on either side of my butt, kneading the tender flesh. When he pulls my cheeks apart, I gasp, ready to scream, but then I feel his warm breath fanning against my skin.
Before I can ask what the hell he is doing, I feel his hot, wet tongue on my center. I have to bite my cheek so hard I can taste blood just so I won’t moan. He drags his tongue through my folds. He starts at my clit and slowly licks up, over my entrance, but he doesn’t stop there. He keeps going until he is circling my other hole.
I want to object, want to tell him to stop, but the truth is, I have to force myself from pushing my ass out and into his face. How can something so wrong, so dirty, feel so good?
Shoving my face into the mattress, I pray that he doesn’t hear my muffled moan when he pushes the tip of
his tongue into the tight ring. My whole body shudders, begging for release as my core reaches fever-pitch.
And then… he pulls away. Cool air rushes over my heated flesh as he gets up. His hands leave my butt and travel up and over my back until they reach my shoulders.
“This was meant to punish you.”
“I hate you…” I growl into the sheets, struggling against his gentle touch. I don’t want his kindness. I don’t want anything but to be left alone, so I can forget how I was starting to fall for my captor when I should’ve been trying to run the whole time.
“Do you? Or do you hate that I’m not letting you come?”
“I just hate you!”
“Well, I can’t wait to see how much you hate me after this next part.” The edge to his voice terrifies me, and when he flips me over, I snarl, kicking my feet out at him to get away.
Chuckling, he easily subdues me and pulls me off the bed and pushes me down to my knees. He grabs me by the chin and forces me to look at him and nowhere else. My lashes are heavy with tears, and my cheeks cold and stained with tears.
My tears and pain don’t seem to have an effect on him, though.
“I’m going to use your mouth, and you’re going to let me.”
Frantically, I search his face, trying to find even a sliver of emotion that I might be able to latch on to, but his mask is firm and in place. The man I’ve come to know—that I’ve peeled the layers back on is gone.
His stormy blue eyes are lifeless, his features sharper like the edge of a knife pressed against my throat, he’s going to slice me open and watch the blood drain onto the floor.
Reaching for his belt, he quickly undoes it, and then his pants, shoving them down to the floor. He’s completely nude beneath, and his steel-hard penis rises like a skyscraper between us. How can he be turned on after hurting me?
“Julian…” His name falls off my lips like a prayer. What I’m praying for, I don’t know. More? Less? Both?
“Bite me, and I will hurt Marie.” The warning is clear, blinking in bright red neon back at me. I swallow the bile and fear rising in my throat.
“Please,” I whimper, my eyes dropping down to the head of his penis. It’s swollen, and a bead of white liquid glistens against it. He strokes himself eagerly, and releases my chin, moving his hand into my hair.
He fists the strands, and my scalp burns as he tugs my head forward.
“Open up,” he orders gruffly.
My lips tremble, but I do as he says, afraid of what may come next if I don’t. Holding my head in place by my hair, he guides himself to my mouth.
His eyes are trained on my mouth, my lips, watching intently as the mushroom head disappears past my lips.
Fear and arousal mix together and spark like gasoline, meeting a match. His soft flesh glides over my tongue, and even though I shouldn’t, my lips close around the head, and I suck. I’m not sure what to do. I’m simply following my gut instinct. Pleasing him isn’t my priority, and yet, I want to please him so badly it’s all I feel.
“Fuck,” he groans and tightens his hold on my hair.
He slides forward, pushing deeper into my mouth and in seconds, he’s at the back of my throat. I gag around his length, trying to squirm away, feeling as if he’s going to suffocate me, but a second later, he pulls back, giving me a chance to breathe, and I gulp fresh air into my lungs.
Tears leak from my eyes, and he performs the same action again, this time a little faster than the first time.
“I’m going to fuck your throat, hard and fast,” he warns, frightening me, making me shake. He pulls out briefly, giving me a chance to say something.
“I don’t know if I can…” I whine, trying to shake my head, but he doesn’t listen.
“You can, trust me.” He pushes back into my mouth, his thrusts hard and fast, making it hard for me to breathe but not restricting me completely. I gag around his length and feel saliva dribbling out the side of my mouth and down my chin. He uses my mouth and throat savagely but keeps his eyes on me, and somehow, I feel more connected to him, tethered to him.
Heat blooms in my core, and I rub my thighs together, hoping for the tiniest bit of friction. I hate that I want him to touch me right now, to bring me pleasure like I know my mouth is bringing him.
“Such a warm little mouth,” he grunts, “you look so fucking pretty with my cock in it.”
“Mmm,” I say, around his length, my body reacting without thought.
Julian smiles like the devil he is. “I bet your pussy is throbbing and wet, begging for my fingers to be inside of it. Isn’t it?” His thrusts are faster now, his balls slapping against my chin. My own arousal coats my thighs, and I’m ashamed of how badly I want him.
“You’re soaked, I know it. Even if you don’t want to be, you’re enjoying this. Your body knows I would never take more than you could give me.”
He is right, even with as terrified as I am, I know deep down, he will not take more than I can give him, and that’s the sick twisted part of all of this.
I shouldn’t want this punishment, but a dark hidden part of me does.
“Suck,” he orders, and I hollow out my cheeks, sucking on him like he’s a popsicle.
His head tips back, and his entire body vibrates, all the perfectly sculpted muscles in his body tightening, locking up with pleasure.
Erupting in my mouth, I try to swallow his salty release, but there is too much, and I gag. Gently, he pulls out of my mouth.
“Swallow the rest,” he growls, releasing my hair and grasping my chin. I do as he says, and his eyes gleam with joy as he watches my throat work. He studies my features and using his thumbs, wipes away the tears from my eyes.
Licking the side of my mouth, his teeth nip at my bottom lip.
My insides twist and a sob rips from my throat as it all comes back to me, the lustful fog lifting from my eyes. I didn’t want this to happen, not really, and it did. I let him use me, let him take and punish me, and worst of all, I enjoyed it.
“Please, let me go,” I whisper, wanting to curl in on myself. I don’t know what to feel or think, only that this is wrong. What we did, the thoughts swirling around in my head, it’s all wrong.
Something reflects in his eyes and back at me. He looks sorry, but that can’t be right. He wanted this, wanted me in pain. He wanted to punish me, and he liked it, and part of me liked it too.
Before I can grasp onto the look, his face goes blank again, and he does just as I ask. He lifts me up and deposits me on the bed.
I let myself fall back onto the mattress and curl into a ball. Crawling onto the bed, he takes me into his arms even as I flinch at his touch. His chest is bare now. He kisses my damp forehead and soothes me, holding me tight, and that only makes me hate him a little bit more.
His masculine scent overpowers me, calming me. How can he do this? Hurt me one second, and soothe me another?
“Shhh, you’re okay.”
“I’m not,” I blubber into his bare chest, the warmth of his skin radiating through me. I feel like an iceberg, slowly melting into the abyss.
“I didn’t hurt you. I punished you, and I know that you enjoyed it as well.” He reminds me again of my treacherous body’s reaction to him. His thick fingers run through my hair, making my scalp tingle.
“I hate you,” I whisper.
“Sometimes, I hate myself too. You’ll be okay.”
He holds me for a while longer, whispering sweet nothings into my hair, and I let him. Let him soothe me, hold me, even after what he did. He doesn’t let go of me until the last sob has wracked my body.
Setting me back down on the mattress, he climbs off the bed and digs back into the drawer, setting a second pair of handcuffs down next to me. I don’t speak or even look at him as he rolls me onto my belly, uncuffs one hand, rolls me back onto my back and brings my arms up above my head, fastening one end of the cuff to the headboard, then repeating the action with the other cuff, and attaching it to my free wrist.
I sag against the pillows as best as I can, my wrists already ache from the position, and my ass cheeks burn against the sheets, but I refuse to let him know that.
We’re enemies now, and he doesn’t deserve to know how I’m feeling anymore. All he deserves is my hate and anger, which is all he’ll get from me.
Ignoring me completely, he walks into the closet and comes out fully dressed a short time later. I pretend to be asleep and hold in the tears that threaten to fall until I hear the door close behind him. Then, I close my eyes, letting the tears fall, wishing things could be different.
24
Julian
She betrayed me. I should have seen it coming, but I was so occupied with my revenge that I missed it.
Looking back on the last few days, I wonder how much of it was an act and how much was real? Did she really want me to fuck her, did she really like spending time with me? Did she ever trust me, even one single bit? I don’t know, and the truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever know now.
Walking into the kitchen, I find Marie and our new cook, Celeste, chatting about some kind of new café in town.
“They just have the best pastries and lattes, I don’t know what they put in them, but we have to figure it out,” Marie chirps.
Celeste–who is about the same age as Marie–claps her hand in front of her in excitement. “I wonder how late they’re open, maybe we can go after work?”
“Is breakfast ready?” Both of them jump at the sound of my voice, making me realize how harsh I must sound.
“Yes, I was just about to bring it up,” Marie explains, clearly flustered by my presence. She quickly fills the glass on the tray with apple juice, her hand shaking so much that she is spilling half of it in the process.
“I’ll take it.” Walking further into the kitchen, I grab the food, not missing how Marie flinches at my movement. Good, she should be afraid.
On my way back to the bedroom, my anger about Elena’s betrayal only expands. She lied to me, kept secrets from me, and then tried to get away and run back to the enemy. And here I am, still wondering if she would like a fucking pastry from the new café.