“Once the blood has been spilled, the reaping can begin.” – Notes of X
Jay
I step inside the bathtub and get under the shower. The warm water feels nice on my cold skin. Goose bumps crawl over my skin as I wrap my arms around my body, trying to keep him from seeing all my private parts. Not that it’s any use. He’s still standing there, watching me. His dark eye takes in my body like cake, his tongue dipping out to lick his upper lip. I can see the bulge in his pants growing fast.
Great. This means he’s in a good mood.
Quieting down was a brilliant idea. He must think I’m still in shock from Hannah’s betrayal. Hell no. I’d have thrown her out of the window myself first if I’d found out she spied on me. Although, I have to admit that it scares me that I’m so indifferent. I’m in constant survival mode, but I refuse to become a victim. I refuse to give in to any trauma whatsoever. I’ll get out of this unscathed and sane. I need to.
To X I might seem like a weak lamb right now, but on the inside I’m still boiling with anger. However, I know my fury won’t get me out of here. First, there’s the belt hanging from the sink in full view as a gentle reminder. Then there’s the fact that he’d shoot me before I had the chance to reach the door.
No, the way to go about this is by being calm, assertive, and above all obedient. It’s not in my nature to be willing, but if that’s what he wants, that’s what he’ll get. Not because he deserves it, but because it’s my one shot at freedom. Giving him anything he wants will make him think I’m easy. It will make me seem conquered. It will make it much easier to betray him once his guard is down.
I’m not a fucking moron. I know how to play this game. Pretending is what I’m good at. Men always want my body, so I give it to them and pretend to like it. Now I’ll do the same for X. I’ll do everything he asks until he’s so far gone in his fantasy of controlling me that he slips up, and then I’ll seize the moment. I’ll be waiting as a silent captive … he’ll never see it coming.
I turn around and look at him. “Now what?”
“Wash yourself.” He points at the soap bar lying on the rack next to me.
I grab it and turn back around again, facing the wall as I start scrubbing myself with the bar. My ass hurts and stings under the hot water, but I don’t want to skip cleaning it. I feel dirty from top to bottom. Like I need to scrub myself with sandpaper. I don’t want to feel disgusted with myself, so I stick my head under the shower and refresh myself. When I open my eyes I catch him staring at me. I didn’t think he’d still be here, although it does make sense. I just keep forgetting. I feel violated by both his real eye and his fake one. Leaning against the wall, he keeps a vigilant watch, biting his lip when I bend over to soap up my legs. There’s a dirty-boy smile on his face that I wish I could slap off.
For some reason I want to rub it in his face that he can’t have me. That I’m here for the taking and that he’s keeping his hands off me tells me he’s waiting for me to come to him instead. Well, I have news for him. I’m not that easy. He’ll have to come and get it, but for that to happen, one of us has to give in first. And using my body to show him what he’s missing feels like a tool. He wants me, but then he doesn’t want me. He’s trying to resist. So that means I’m torturing him when I flaunt my body.
A wicked grin spreads across my face. Power. I have power over him. I need to use this.
With sensual strokes I start lathering my body in soap. My fingers are slow as I swipe them up my legs, pushing my ass toward him. When I stand up again, I turn around to face him with my breasts straight forward. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I spread the soap on my breasts and linger on my nipples, playfully nipping them with my index finger. As I slide my hands down my body, I gasp when I reach my pussy. X notices. His lips part and his black eye narrows. He cocks his head and scratches his neck, his fingers slower and slower with each scratch.
“You like to touch yourself, don’t you?” he asks.
I suck on my lip and raise an eyebrow, shrugging. What can I say? I’m a tease. Especially with men I want to trick.
A half-smile appears on his face. “Go lower.”
My hand reaches down into my slit but I keep it there without moving. Water rushes down onto my body, heating me up as my hand rests on my most sensitive part. It rinses away the soap while I keep my challenging eyes on his.
“Go on.”
“With what?” I ask.
“Ask that again and you’ll get another spanking.”
“Hmmm …” I muse. “And who says I don’t want that instead?”
He laughs. “We can play this the hard way, since you seem so intent on getting me hard.” He points at his pants, which are fully tented now. I smirk and shrug again.
“Play with yourself,” he demands.
“Or else?”
“Do not tempt me to bend you over, Jay. Because I will, and when it happens, I will make you beg for mercy.” He unbuttons his pants and jerks down the zipper in one go, letting his pants drop to the floor. I’m amazed at his muscular legs, the thickness of them, but when my eyes reach his boxer briefs I’m struck with awe. He’s fucking hung.
I almost forget this man abducted me. For some reason his cock is more appetizing than it is scary, considering it’s one of the fucking reasons he wants me—so he can ram that inside me.
I swallow and force myself to divert my eyes, only to find out he saw me staring at his junk.
“It’ll be all yours soon,” he says with a smoky voice. “But first you need to learn to obey.”
I squint as I await his order. My hand is still cupping my pussy, but I can feel it’s already getting warm from seeing him. My body is lusty for him. I hate it. Why do some men have that effect on me? I never understood. Maybe it’s because they offer me something else than just a quickie. Something permanent. Freedom.
“Play with yourself or I will punish you,” he growls, balling his hand into a fist.
I swallow away my nerves and start sliding my finger up and down. At first I’m slow and hesitant, but I’m getting wetter and the slickness is helping me move faster. I can’t help fondle my nub, as it’s swollen and throbbing. His hand is on his huge cock, and he rubs it through the fabric of his boxer briefs. Seeing him touch himself makes me forget more and more who we are and where we are. I’m in the moment, feeling myself, loving myself, forgetting about everything and everyone. My free hand instinctively moves to my nipples, because I always like to tug them whenever I’m fingering myself. Heck, I like it whenever any of my lovers handle them roughly.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I slip my finger through my slit and try to enjoy myself while doing it. I know what he’s expecting to happen, and I can’t do it if I don’t enjoy it. So I keep my eyes shut and pretend he’s not there.
“Open your eyes.” His voice is demanding. Harsh.
My eyes jerk open as if I’ve been pulled from a secret fantasy. I feel like I just got caught, which is ridiculous since he’s been watching this whole time.
Frowning, I stop for a second. My finger is still slippery wet, and it makes me aware of what I was doing. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to do it and not be reminded of it. But of course, that’s not what we’re going to do, because he doesn’t like easy. He likes hard.
“Don’t close them again,” he says. “I want you to look at me while you fuck yourself.”
“I can’t do it then,” I say.
“You will do it.”
“I can’t.”
He pushes himself off the wall and reaches for the belt. My breathing becomes ragged. Folding it double, he approaches. He’s fast and merciless as he whips my inner thigh. I wince and struggle not to dance like there are hot coals underneath my feet. The burning mark the belt leaves on my thigh awakens all my nerves. Then another hit on the other, equally as painful, if not worse. It sizzles and sears as he pulls it away again.
“Listen to me,” he hisses. “Use your fingers to fuck yourself. I know you’ve done it before. Now show me how wet you are for me.”
He hits my outer thighs this time, and it stings so much I get the urge to close my legs again. Too bad he won’t let it happen. Another painful lash ensues and I’m off to wonderland. My mind can’t handle this shit. I’ve never been hit. At least, not like this. Sure, I’ve taken a slap or two to my face, but that was different. This is meant as a way to correct me. To train me. To make me obedient. To make me his. Somehow, I think this is meant to be erotic. And fuck me, my pussy even likes it. My clit keeps throbbing after every sizzle and I’m starting to wonder if I’ve gone insane too now.
“Keep them spread,” he says.
“I’m trying,” I say.
“Not. Good. Enough.” He strikes me after each word, making me cringe and fight the tears. The belt leaves red stripes all over my thighs. He keeps looking at them and then smiles, like he’s proud of making my skin look like blood. Twisted doesn’t even describe this.
“Please …” I mutter after the tenth strike.
“Tell me you will spread your legs.”
“I will.”
He hits me again, this time letting the belt flip out and curl around my ass. “What’s that?”
“I will, sir.”
“Good girl.” He grins. “You will address me properly from now on.”
“Fuck you.”
Another lash to my other ass cheek follows. I shriek and catch a tear with my tongue, trying to hide it from him. At the same time I spread my legs, because I know I have to do as he says. However, part of me doesn’t want to stop. It always wants to rebel, even when it’s not good for my health.
“Now pleasure yourself and let me see,” he says, snapping the belt again. He flicks it a couple of time as he bites his lip, watching me with one raised eyebrow. It’s as if he expects me to revolt again. He knows me too well.
So I decide to play along and do as he says.
I start rubbing my pussy again, painfully aware of the fact that the surrounding area is throbbing, putting even more pressure on my already engorged clit. No matter how much I fight it, how many times I tell myself I don’t like any of it, I do like the sensation. It’s wrong. It’s so fucking wrong. But it’s true.
Taking a deep breath, I continue caressing my folds and nub, trying to keep my legs spread at the same time. It’s freaking hard, because I get the urge to close them when I get hot and bothered, but I can’t. Each time I falter, he whips me again, reminding me to keep trying. I can’t give up. It’s either giving in to his wishes, or giving in to his displeasure. And I know better than to anger this man. I don’t want to be thrown out of a window. Nope, compared to that, having to finger myself is stupidly easy.
I concentrate on myself and block him out of my mind, but then he opens his mouth again.
“Two fingers, not one. Fuck that pussy hard.”
I sigh. “Yes, sir.”
With strong, sturdy hands, he lets the belt loose on me again. This time on my nipple. I squeal, fighting to keep my legs spread.
“Don’t you fucking smart-mouth me, little bird. Say it like you mean it.”
“Yes, sir,” I stammer.
“Now be a good girl, and show me how much fucking that pussy can take. I want to see what you’re capable of before I take you, because when I do, it’s going to be so fucking slow and agonizingly delicious you’ll beg me to come quickly.” He grins. “I’m not a sprinter, I’m a marathon runner.”
It sounds like I’m an item, something you buy at an auction and have to check to see whether it was really worth your money. It’s despicable, but at the same time it’s oddly arousing to have someone boss me around like this. It’s not often men are so clear on what they want. And Jesus, X talks dirty.
I don’t know why I like it, but I do.
Now I’ve really gone insane.
“Make it nice and slick,” he growls as he hits my nipple again. They are all puckered up from his whipping, painfully tingling. I dip two fingers into my pussy and swirl them around. Then I move back to my little nub and flick it, still pretending he’s not there. If I’m going to do this, I need to forget about everything.
“Keep. Your. Eyes. On. Me.” His voice is low and sounds angry, so I make sure to stare at him before I continue. I don’t want to call out his anger more than I already have, although I do hate looking at him, knowing what I’m doing. I can’t get the gun out of my mind, nor the belt, but fuck it, I’m losing it. My body is quivering, building up to the explosion, and I don’t want it to go off. I know he wants it.
“Let me see you come,” he says, rubbing his cock through the fabric. There’s a wet spot on his boxer briefs. Looking at it makes it easier to cope with. Hell, it makes it easier to touch myself and get off, because his cock is nice; that I can’t deny.
“You like this?” he says with a smug voice.
I try to ignore what he says, but he immediately reaches for the whip again, so I hurry to scramble an answer together. “Anything but your face.”
Oh God.
He stops moving. Just one growl escapes his mouth.
Now I’ve done it. Oh, no.
He steps forward and grabs me by my hair, forcing me to look him in the eye. “Am I not good enough, Jay? Am I an ugly fucker? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant.”
A rumbling sound emanates from his chest. “The fuck you didn’t. Look at me, Jay. Look!” he yells, pushing his forehead against mine as his free hand grips the hand I was fingering myself with. “See this fucking scar on my face? Do you know what kind of a motherfucker you have to be to get this kind of treatment? It’s my name, little bird. Remember it, because it’s going to be branded on your ass once I’m through with you. And then you’ll be like me.” He pushes my fingers down onto my pussy so hard it’s painful. “Anything but my face, huh?”
“It’s not your scar!” I blurt out. “I just don’t want to be scared.”
Frowning, he squints and pulls harder on my hair. “Scared of what? Me?” He laughs a little. “My face makes you scared?”
I don’t answer, which makes him chuckle.
“Good.” He grins and starts moving my fingers for me. “Did I say you could stop?”
I try to shake my head, but he grips my hair harder, making it impossible.
“Yeah, keep those pretty little eyes on me. Enjoy the burn on your ass and think of where it came from. Look at me while you fuck yourself and make yourself come.”
He lets go of my hand, but fists my hair some more, pushing it into a ponytail he can use to keep me in check. “C’mon, Jay, I’m not going to wait all day.”
I flick my clit as fast as I can, trying to escape into a fantasy land, even with my eyes open. But it’s no use. It’s impossible. And as my climax approaches I realize there’s no closing myself off, no turning away. I will have to look into his twisted coal eye and the mechanical one that suck out my soul as I come apart.
“Come. Now,” he demands, keeping his eye locked on mine and his fingers entangled in my hair. He pulls it back while I reach the brink of ecstasy. In this final moment of bliss, at the edge of insanity, I find peace. Even in his single real eye, I see clarity, something more than just hate. Pain. Inconceivable hatred sprung from love.
An eruption courses through my body, stemming from my pussy as I convulse from the orgasm. Whack! A harsh, flat slap to my ass pulls me from my temporary euphoria. The pain sizzles through my body, actually intensifying the explosions taking place.
“So beautiful … and so wicked …” he mutters with a gruff voice. “You came hard, didn’t you?”
I nod carefully.
A short, almost invisible smile tempers his face. “Hmmm …”
He liked it. God, he seriously liked it. I’ve seen this look on men’s faces before and there’s no question about it; this is what he wants. This is his weakness. Me.
I got him.
The more he pulls, the more he drags, the more he makes me suffer, the more he desires, the easier it becomes for me to seep into his bones like poison and ruin him. And then I’ll be free as a bird.
When he takes his hand off my ass, I didn’t even realize it was still there. Cocking his head back and sideways, he lifts his hand and brings it to my face, gently caressing my cheeks. I don’t trust him.
“Such a good girl,” he says. “If you listen, I will reward you.”
“How?” My voice is still croaky.
“You’ll see …” X holds out his hand and waits for me to take it. He helps me step out of the tub, but I still manage to slip on the stone floor. He catches me with his free hand and presses me close to his chest. I gasp, because I’m surprised he actually cared to not let me fall. That, and the fact that his cock is poking me. His hands are tightly wrapped around my body, and he buries his head in the nook of my neck. He smells me and then groans. “I remember this …”
His words creep me out.
Suddenly, his lips are on my neck. It’s soft and warm, and so not what I’m used to. He leaves random kisses all over my skin, dragging his lips up to my earlobe. Shivers run through my body. Then he stops, hovering close to my ear. “So eager. So feisty. So yearning for the pain … You’re a masochist, Jay.”
“A what?”
“You enjoy my hand giving your ass a royal spanking.”
“What?” I snarl, freezing, because I can feel his hands on my skin, feeling me up.
“You can deny it, but it won’t change a thing. You and I both know what you are.” His whispers make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. “You punish yourself when no one else is around to do it for you.”
I’m shocked. I don’t know what to say. I can’t even bring out a few words. I’m totally and utterly flabbergasted.
And maybe a little ashamed, too.
He groans again, nipping my ear, biting it. “I’ll be your provider. I’ll give you pain as long as you give me your tears. Be wicked with me, Jay. Learn to love the monster that lurks inside you too. I know you’ve seen it. I can tell from your quivering lips and begging eyes. You need a man to control you, to temper your flame, and to make you feel alive.” He sucks on his lip, and it sounds like a hiss, making my skin crawl. Oddly enough, my clit is still throbbing, too. “Blood, Jay. I want your blood. I’ll strike you as long and as hard as needed until it turns your skin ruby and makes you so wet you’ll spread your legs willingly. My belt gives us both satisfaction. You’ll get the burning sensation of leather, I’ll get to draw your blood. But know this, little bird: you’ll never be free of me. Don’t think you were ever free to begin with, I’ve always been there, in the shadows, lurking, waiting to take my shot. Let me remind you again: I desire your blood, your tears, and your fear. I want it all. You can choose how. I’ll give you that choice. My belt or your head. So you decide, which one do you want?”
My body is giving up the fight as I shake profusely in his arms. It’s too much. I don’t want to die, but if that’s the only choice I have … would I pick a life of pain?
But then I realize I already made that choice long ago. I’ve been on my own ever since I left the hospital that day. The first day I remember after a huge blur. I’ve been wandering the streets like a lost lamb. I chose to trust the people, Hannah and Don, who betrayed me in the end. Always let people use me. Always abused myself. Pain is etched into my soul. He’s right: I’ve never been free. Not from him, nor from myself. I’m my own monster, and now I’ve found an equal.
“I want to live,” I whisper into the void.
I can feel him smile against my skin. “You’ll make a perfect pet.”
