“Please.” I whispered, but I didn’t know what I was asking him for. He was inside me, in every cell. His penis throbbed inside me and I could feel it. But more than that, I knew he could feel me. Not just my shaking. But me.
Each day I was more vulnerable than the last. Each day he stripped away more of my sense of self. And now he’d taken the last of it, the last of me. But who did that make me? An extension of him? Someone new? I didn’t know. Didn’t want to know.
He leaned over me, kissing away the tears on the side of my face. And still he didn’t move. It wasn’t enough to fuck my body, he wanted to mindfuck me too. It was working. I wanted him to be nice to me. To kiss me. To make it nice for me. I was scared it would hurt and I once again looked to him for protection. How messed up was that!
Then he fucked me.
In my entire life, I never felt anything like this. Sensation assaulted me, paralyzed me, as if my mind could not possibly keep up with how I should react. My entire body trembled and shook around him as he impaled me over and over again, and yet, there was a sick sort of pleasure also present. It built up inside me and begged to be released. Was it always like this?
Would it feel the same if he fucked my…even my thoughts demurred away from the word pussy.
Caleb calls it your pussy. I came. Hard. The force of it stilled him inside me as I pulsed around him. He made a pained sound and pressed his mouth to my shoulder, “God…I knew you’d be like this.” Before I had a chance to ask what he meant, he moved inside me and all thought fled.
I came several more times while he fucked me, each time, it reduced me more and more into someone I recognized less and less. Finally, he squeezed and pulled at my ass. “You feel so good. I love your tight little ass.” He grunted and slammed into me. He swelled inside me and I couldn’t believe it was actually getting bigger. He moaned loudly, “Oh fuck!” Moments later he filled me with his semen.
When he no longer pulsated inside me he collapsed on top of me, whispering reassurances in my ear. I whimpered softly under him as he once again became all softness and comfort. He reached for something and placed it underneath me. He pulled out slowly, his cock inching its way out of me and creating an overwhelming panic. Would his semen come running out of me! I clenched without meaning to and he hissed. Again, he had found new ways to humiliate me.
Tears streamed down my burning cheeks.
We bathed together for the first time, crammed into the tub, my body between his legs, against a part of him I had yet to see. He held my head on his chest. I wept, indifferent and exhausted against him, all my strength gone. He stroked me, washed me, spoke to me. “What’s your name?”
“Kitten,” I whispered weakly.
“And mine?” he tensed beneath my fingers.
“Master.”
After the bath, he toweled me in silence. I was grateful. I climbed into bed without protest, seeking the oblivion of sleep even as I prayed I wouldn’t dream of all that had just transpired.
Violation, confusion and more uncertainty. More powerlessness. My prayers, like all of them, were left unanswered. He lay down next to me and I knew sleep was not an option.
I opened my eyes and stared into the dark. I was numb – heartbroken. Not only was I shocked over what he’d done, but I was more shocked over how he’d managed to turn my body against me. The pain had been intense, and yet at times it was as if that same pain added to the violent shiver that coursed through me when he’d made me come. Shame overwhelmed me. Part of me had more than enjoyed it. The few times he’d eased off of me just before that shiver, I’d held onto him tighter. Where am I supposed to go from here? I lay there, my eyes wide, my breath shallow, my soul defeated, and I stared into nothingness.
He lay next to me, naked and warm against my skin. I tried not to move, not to think of him, not to think of anything but this dark room that was quickly becoming my entire life. My tears ran across my face, out my right eye, across the bridge of my nose, into my left eye and down onto my pillow. My pillow, my only friend. I sobbed, determined to keep my tears private.
They were mine, not his. And he wouldn’t care anyway. He doesn’t care about me anyway.
“Kitten, that’s no way to behave,” he said, his voice denoting he was wide awake and ready to torment me. “I know it wasn’t all bad for you, you came – more than once.” His words cut me and a strong pang of humiliation in my chest made me draw tighter into myself. I wanted to say something vicious, but swallowed it down. I didn’t want to open my mouth, if I did, I would just burst into tears and I didn’t wish to cry anymore. I was sick to death of crying. He kissed my head and I jerked it away.
I swallowed very hard and took a long slow breath.
“All you want to do is hurt me,” I said calmly. A hint of fear laced my words. I expected more violence but didn’t give a shit. Instead he shushed me.
“Come here,” he said, very gently, sounding so safe. “It’s going to be okay.”
He grabbed me roughly and turned my face into his chest. Before I had any thought about it, I wrapped my arms around him and held on to him as hard as I could. He was my tormentor and my solace; the creator of the dark and the light within. I didn’t care that he would undoubtedly hurt me at any moment, right now; I just needed somebody to hold me, somebody to be kind to me, somebody to tell me exactly those words. It’s going to be okay. It wasn’t of course, I knew that. But I didn’t care. I needed the lie. I needed my books, my movies, and now Caleb’s arms.
He held me for what seemed like an eternity and rocked me gently, until all my crying had lulled and I simply rested against him. “Please don’t leave me in here. I hate it in here.”
His fingers caressed the side of my face and it gave me hope. But then I felt him inch his way out of the bed. Without a word of reassurance, he gathered his clothes and left me.
Lost, I lay back down and pulled my pillows closer. They smelled like him.
EIGHT
The door opened slowly, Caleb’s shadow significantly less ominous, haloed by the light of the room behind him. I was, dare I admit it, relieved to see him. Caleb. I stopped myself before I said his name and instead took a huge breath. I sat…I waited. He stood by the door, and then leaned against it casually. What looked like a silk nightgown was held almost carelessly in his left hand. I stared at it as he held it out toward me. Weary, I tried to make out his expression in the dark. Was this another fucking game? If so, it was the cruelest yet.
“Well, Kitten? Are you going to put it on or are you finally over your self-indulgent modesty?” I waited for the tease to play out, but he continued to stare at me with a quizzical expression. I walked toward him, and grabbed it from his hand fully expecting to meet with resistance. When I didn’t, I fell forward slightly, my cheek colliding with his chest for a brief moment before I righted myself. He laughed and it was almost…sweet.
The fabric was soft and sensual as it glided through my fingers while I discerned the opening.
I had never been this close to the open door and my excitement was palpable. The light filtering in from the room behind him beckoned me sharply. I fumbled with the slippery silk.
Caleb’s hands unexpectedly reached out for mine. He held them still, steadying my trembling, overly excited hands. I looked up at him, finally able to make out his features in the glow of the adjoining room. I was strangely excited to see him in the light, to really see him, as plainly as I had that fated day on the street. It seemed a lifetime ago.