Take Me With You(34)

“Oh fuck!” I scream, catching my breath. You'd think by now, nothing would startle me, but this shit never gets old. “You scared the shit out of me!” I say, like he's an old friend, like he cares, like his intentions were anything but to frighten me, hoping that if I act familiar with him, he'll see me as a person and not just a toy for his sick pleasures.

I brush a wild lock of hair away, and my heart slows a bit as I lock into his blinking eyes peeking through his mask.

I know what he's here for. I think the cat and mouse game stopped yesterday. Instinctively, I cross my legs under the blanket, the one I earned through oral sex days ago.

“How long have you been there?” I ask. It's pointless, but when you have no one to talk to, you try.

He points to a tray that he must have carried in. On it is fruit, water, and a few hard-boiled eggs. I'm hungry, but he keeps me fed enough now so that I don't act like a stray around food.

“Thanks,” I say begrudgingly.

He stands up, and my breath hitches. We may not use money, but nothing here is free. I notice he's dressed well today. At least compared to his t-shirt and torn jeans. Today, he's wearing a buttoned down shirt, with a fresh pair of jeans and boots.

“You look nice,” I add, trying to ingratiate him though the words taste like sour milk on my tongue.

He doesn't respond. Instead, he unbuttons his shirt as he stands over me, those eyes paralyzing me into submission. He rests the shirt gently on the weathered wooden chair behind him, revealing just a white tank underneath, his muscles suggesting his physical domination over me.

His heavy boots clunk loudly against the wooden floor as he slowly strides towards me. I know he does this on purpose. He uses every tool, including sound, to create the ambiance he wants. He is capable of becoming a ghost when he likes.

But today, he wants me to recognize the tension of each step. There are only three needed in this small space before he is standing beside me. He whips off the cover and I gasp. I'm so used to being nude, that I forget I am still covered in the little pink nightie he gave me. He reaches down, softly guiding his hand along my cheekbone and then sharply gripping it to turn my eyes up. His other finger runs along the fresh scrapes on my neck. Then at the neckline of the dress.

He's already hard as he does this, the bulge in his pants taunting just inches from my face.

He pulls a little on the neckline to show me something. Blood. One of my cuts must have bled in my sleep. I don't know all the rules and if that's going to upset him enough to cause some kind of punishment, but he seems to move past it for now, letting the dress fall back against my skin.

In a sudden burst, he reaches for my ankles, turning and pulling me to the edge of the bed. I pant, as he meets me on his knees, positioned between my thighs.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know I was bleeding.”

He doesn't heed my words as he pushes up the hem, running his fingers up and down my lips, triggering me to squirm in a mixture of arousal and discomfort. I told myself I had to hide the old me to get through this, but she claws to the surface. She won't let me completely lose myself in the moment yet.

He takes his rough hands and clamps them down on my thighs, his disciplinary glare saying it all.

I nod.

“How does your pussy feel?” he asks.

“Umm…do you want my honest answer?”

He half grunts.

“It's sore. You're thicker than Carter.” It's the truth, but I add that in there to stroke his ego.

“Don't fucking say his name again,” he snaps. “He doesn't exist here.”

I nod sharply.

He gently unbuttons the tiny pink buttons on my nightie, halfway, so the limp fabric falls open, exposing my breasts.

“Play with your tits,” he orders.

“O-okay.”

I close my eyes and reach up for them, taking deep, staggered breaths as I fondle them. At first, I'm almost too nervous to feel anything, but as my breaths calm, I am able to escape into my touch.

“Open your eyes.” He commands.

I take a beat before following. He's right there, still in front of me, forcing me to look into those eyes. Eyes that have stolen everything. Eyes that have taken me to starvation and filth and then back to life. Eyes that terrified me. Eyes that have watched me come so hard my entire body convulsed.

I hate that they're beautiful. I hate that they are the kind of eyes you could stare at for hours, studying the nuances in their coloring, and how the hues of green, blue and gold change with the light. How can someone so sinister be blessed with something so stunning?

I get lost in them for a moment, slowing my hands.

“Don't stop, Vesp. Only when I say.”

I continue, looking into those eyes as I please my own body, so that I can't associate them with pain at this moment, only carnal pleasure.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a glass figure. He pushes my legs further apart so I am exposed to him, taking the pointed tip and running it along the wet flesh.

“You want me to fuck you,” he says assuredly. “Your pussy puckers open. It never lies. It wants to swallow my cum again.”

The cabin is quiet, making me self-conscious about my breathing which is heavy and ragged.

He runs his finger along the entrance, and I feel empty. A yearning inside wants him to slip those fingers in and fill the vacuum.