Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(50)

Even so, my breathing spikes, my body purrs, a slave to its master. He pulls the plug from me, straddles my hips, spits, then his flesh is there, pushing harder and harder until it slips inside. I cry out, the initial breach always so painful, even with the warm up, because he’s just so big. He starts working himself in and out, in and out, every time going deeper and deeper, until he’s all the way in. He lets out a harsh hiss, while I focus hard, focus so hard to tear the pleasure from the pain. But I know it will ease, I know my body will open up for him. He pulls out and gives a good thrust, the weight of him coming down through my bottom, through my legs, and into my knees that slam into the concrete. I shriek and know that’s the pain he wants for me.

He pumps over me while the tears begin to fall, his only touch the flesh that he sinks inside me with hard, building thrusts. My knees bruise with every vicious stroke and I have to concentrate. Concentrate so hard to use the pleasure to override the pain. Because I can’t move my legs, can’t lift my knees. I have to stay exactly as I am. That’s the rule.

His grunts grow louder, as do my cries. But the pleasure is there now, inside me. I still have the pain, and know my knees will be black and blue, but…the way he feels inside me.

He spreads me open with his hands and pounds against me with short grinding jabs, getting himself in good and deep, then comes, quietly. The tears flow freely, not just because of my knees, but because he didn’t grant me a release. Another bit of pain he wants for me.

When he pulls out, I’m left empty and aching. I stay where I am, knowing not to move. He walks off to the bathroom, without a word or a caress. More pain for me.

I hear the faucet running, and he returns a moment later.

“Go clean up,” he says, “I’ll be back for you in a minute.”

He leaves the room, and slowly I rise, my knees so sore I can barely stand. But I make it to the bathroom and tend to myself quickly, ignoring the ghost with puffy red eyes, in the mirror. When I’m done, I go back to my mark and wait on hands and knees once more, this time letting my hands hold most of the weight.

The door clicks and he’s there again. The beast stops in front of me and something falls to the floor. A piece of fabric, I think.

Now he’s kneeling and lifting my chin. I look away, knowing not to meet his eyes. By the silent way he holds my face, I know he’s studying me. “Time to change things up a bit,” he says, and I know he sees the ghost now too. “Put it on.”

He stands over me while I take the clothing and dress with shaky hands. It’s a man’s, white, V-neck t-shirt that hangs to mid-thigh. Probably his. Something he doesn’t wear anymore.

The clothing swallows me up and feels strange. I’ve been naked for so long. It chafes where my skin is broken, but I push past it, my pain tolerance different than what it used to be.

“Follow me,” he says, then strides through the door. I get up and go to follow him, but hesitate at the threshold. Maybe this is a trick. He stops and turns around, waiting. Not a trick. I hurry to catch up, ignoring the ache in my knees, and walk behind him as we go down a hallway. A hallway I walked down a long time ago.

We turn a corner and sunlight streams in through the large windows from the living room. I squint and jerk my arm up, trying to shield my eyes from the daylight. It’s so bright. So bright. So bright, I walk right into a wall and stagger backwards.

His footsteps come in close and I brace, but when he takes my arm, he’s gentle. “This way.”

He’s leading me now. We make another turn, and after a few more blinks, things start to come into focus, and I see we’re in a kitchen. A big kitchen, with a deck just beyond, and a large view of the mountains. The mountains. I gasp. I think some part of me thought I’d never leave that room. And they look so beautiful right now, the sun shining down on them in that lazy way, bringing out a richness in all the greens and golds and browns.

After a moment, I realize he’s watching me, so I look down quickly, not sure what else to do. I hear a screeching sound and turn to see him take a chair from around the dining table and set it so its facing the window, then he motions for me to sit. I do as ordered, that strange feeling inside me again, knowing he placed the chair that way just for me.

He stands behind me now, petting my hair while I look out the window, my eyes trained on the mountains, my ears trained on his voice. “You’ve kept your word, Ava,” he says. “And I know I haven’t made it easy for you. Let’s see if you can keep it up if I give you a little freedom. I’ll tell you first, all the doors to the outside are locked, and there are a couple inside that are locked, too. Anything that’s locked is off-limits, the rest you’re free to roam. But that freedom will come at a price. You’re going to take on a couple chores. First, you’ll start cleaning the house. This is your home now, so you might as well start taking care of it. And second, you’ll take on the cooking. We could both use a decent meal. You’ll make a grocery list and I’ll send Red to the store for you.”

He leans down, places a kiss on my hair, and whispers, “But our sessions will continue. And that will still be your room, Ava. That will always be your room.” He’s standing over me again, quiet now, nothing but the whisper of his hand over my hair.

A monster and his muse.

I stare at the mountains, so vibrant, so magnificent, my eyes soaking up such beauty that it’s almost too much. I’ve been surrounded by greys and blacks for what feels like an eternity. I wonder again if this is a trick. A new way the beast has found to hurt me. Show me this, then take it away for another lifetime. But that’s okay. I’ve learned to cherish what bits of reprieve I’m granted.