Your Heart Still Beats for Me

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Iwoke up cold against the stone floor, my naked body shivering. A dim light shone from above me, unhidden by no decorative shade. I was in a room empty of decoration and life, reminiscent of one of those creepy movies where you would have to cut off your own foot to break free.

But my feet weren’t chained.

It was almost as if the psycho who imprisoned me knew I couldn’t use them.

My hands pushed me up from the ground, and my head spun, a side-effect of my gaze bouncing around the corners of this vacant cell.

There was nothing sugar-coating my grim reality.

This was a real-life horror movie, and I was the leading lady.

Stone walls stared back at me, their heaviness feeling closer and closer as the seconds chipped away at my sanity. I felt them closing in.

My heart began to race, my lungs sucking air in faster than ever as I spied a lone knife near the door, its blade sharp and ridged.

I guess that limb theory wasn’t so far-fetched after all.

On the far side of the room, was a man. He was propped up against the wall but unconscious and bound by chains around his wrists. He was lucky enough to still be in his clothes, though his shirt was torn, and his tie was loose and dirty. I focused on the fact that he wasn’t wearing shoes and wondered where they were.

“Hello, Feebee.”

I jumped from my skin, my heart pounding wildly in my chest, my fingers now brushing the area.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here,” the voice boomed, loud and robotic, from an overhead speaker on the opposite wall of a bright red light.

The disgust over someone watching me made my stomach roll and made me more aware of my lack of clothing. Skinny arms shielded me, wrapping around my breasts and covering my crotch.

I trembled, wishing I could run, when the heavy voice sounded again. “I’ll tell you. You were the recipient of a heart transplant…”

The voice gave me time to examine the red-ridged scar beneath my fingers before it proceeded.

“You were never meant to receive that particular organ.”

That particular organ felt ready to give out.

“Hey,” I whispered, trying to get the man's attention on the other side of the room. He didn’t budge.

“Hey, wake up,” I pleaded, my voice a little louder. “Please, wake up.”

When the man didn’t answer, didn’t move, barely breathed, my attention and eyes moved to the camera.

“Can you hear me?” I asked in a meek tone, instantly annoying myself for not putting on a brave front. That agitation caused me to straighten my back and lift my chin, causing the blunt cut of my hair to tickle my shoulders.

“If you can, what the hell do you want? It’s not like I can give it back.” I hid the tremble of my lower lip from the glaring red light. I found myself praying this deviant couldn’t actually hear me, as nothing could conceal the fear in my voice.

“I’m going to give you a task,” he said, giving me no indication of whether he could or couldn’t hear me. “If you complete it, you’ll be rewarded. If you fail, you can use the blade near the door to cut out your own heart before I do it for you.”

Swallowing down my nerves and the fear-driven vomit climbing my throat, I waited for his request. My face blanched white, my palms too sweaty to even consider failing. I wouldn’t be able to grip that handle. My clammy hands could never drive it into my own chest.

“Here is what I want you to do. In the room with you, is a man you’ve never met.”

My spine went ramrod straight, and my neck hurt as I twisted to see him. “I won’t kill him!” I spat out the words before the creep could ask.

“You have five minutes to unzip his pants and bring him some kind of pleasure. If you fail, you die.”

“I can’t! I cannot do that!” I squeaked, fear changing my voice and making it higher.

“Time is ticking.”

I was frozen. Cold tears rushed down my cheeks as I wasted seconds I didn’t have. I dragged courage from somewhere within and used it to shift myself across the floor, my unusable legs dragging behind with my shadow as the concrete scraped along my bare skin.

“I need more time,” I pleaded.

The robotic voice didn’t respond, but a loud ticking sounded, reminding me how fast time was moving against me.

I reached the unconscious man, my sweaty hands pawing at his face. He was cold beyond his dark stubble, like the room, but not like me, whose nerves started burning through my skin. Ironically, those hadn’t been damaged when I lost the ability to walk.

Unsure of how much time I had left, my clumsy fingers fidgeted with the button of his pants, taking far too long to push it through the small hole. The zipper was next, pulled down to reveal designer underwear.

My painted nails shimmered in the light, the color dancing on my fingertips as I pulled the man’s penis free. It was hard to do without yanking down his trousers. Hard to do without any help from him, and harder still, because it was huge.

I looked at his face, taking in the dark lashes and golden skin that hinted at an exotic heritage, mine telling him I was so sorry that I had to do this.

I prayed, my hands clasping as I said a prayer to a higher force. I angled my head up to heaven and asked God to get me through this.

“Please, let this work. Please guide me and let him finish in time. Please, help him to forgive me.”

I took one last look at the man’s face. His eyes were closed, long lashes shadowing on his cheeks. His lips were perfectly shaped and parted slightly. I ventured a slight glance at the red light, my eyes begging when my dry mouth wouldn’t.

The ticking grew louder, but only in my head, and I feared that time would run out before I did anything.

I turned back to the man in front of me, and placing my hand on his face, I closed the distance between us and whispered against his mouth, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I lowered myself down, my elbows propping me up. My fingers tightened on him, not closing but moving up and down his thick penis in a slow motion. It had been years since I did this. My experience was minimal.

Tears dropped to his length, and my hand moved over them, using them as lube. My breath landed on his tip, feather-light but enough to make him twitch as his cock grew long and thick against my palm.

My tongue met his silky skin, swiping over the tip and stealing the first bead of precum. I pulled back, my dry mouth now full of his salty taste. I licked my lips, looking up at him. He was still motionless.

I moved back in. Devastated by my circumstances, my hand stroked over his length, my mouth not granted much access due to his clothes. I took the tip of him inside my mouth, and I delivered my focus there. My head bobbed slightly as my suction increased. I took him an inch deeper, kissing and sucking him, my lips tightening around his shaft. My hand was still working every other inch.

I glanced up, expecting to see his eyes open. Expecting to see some kind of reaction, but he remained still. Unmovable.

“One minute remaining,” the metallic voice boomed.

I picked up my pace, more tears forming in my eyes. My fingers slipped to the edge of his pants, clawing at them to get them down lower.

The clock still ticked, ominously pressing down on me, making me aware I hadn’t done enough to please this cruel master.

I put as much of the man’s penis into my mouth as I could, my tongue lapping the length of his cock from base to tip and back again. I sucked hard, my mouth working up and down, as I tried to count down the seconds until this was over.

I breathed in his musky scent, absorbing it in all my senses. I relaxed my jaw a little but kept my mouth clamped on his sensitive tip, my tongue swirling, coating his slit in the salvia building up in my mouth, edging him closer and closer until…

He exploded, coating my tongue in a wash of salty cum. White dribbled from my mouth as I reared back, my bony elbows aching from the rough concrete.

“Three, two, one.” My time was up, just as I swallowed the last drop, fearful that spitting it all over the floor would deem me unworthy of living.

The ticking stopped, and as if a magnetic force rattled through me, I spun toward the camera.

“Well done, Feebee. Your first mission is complete. Your stolen heart gets to beat another day.” My body turned cold with his words.

The wall held me up as I backed up and slumped beside my companion—the man I had abused. I took one of his bound hands, needing a friend, needing someone to share the weight of this trauma with.

A shiver ran over every skin cell. My legs were bent in an awkward pose, but I couldn’t feel the discomfort—just the cold from the ice forming in my chest over what I had just done.

Another tear rolled from my eye, lonely and cold and so fucking symbolic.

I sat and waited for more instructions, but none came. A chill swept through the room with the silence. The ticking had long stopped, but it still echoed inside my ears.

I focused on it for minutes...hours...and eventually, hand in hand with the stranger next to me, I fell asleep.