Chapter 1 #2
My words are cut off when he strikes out, grabbing my hair by the loose, messy ponytail I have at the top of my head.
My neck is pulled into an awkward angle, wrenching my head back.
My scalp stings from the quick movement, making me hiss through my teeth.
My hands immediately move to where he’s holding me.
I see Jackson move to stand, but the look I give him through gritted teeth and a small shake of my head tells him to stand down and leave it alone. I don’t need him put into solitary before we have the opportunity to leave.
One thing about me is my pain tolerance is high. It is off the charts, which this dumbass should have realized already. And pulling my hair, while it does hurt a bit, typically just turns me the fuck on, but not with this fucker. With him, it just pisses me off.
”What the fuck did I tell you about calling me that?” he hisses through his teeth in my ear, not expecting an answer. His response to me using that nickname makes me laugh. I know this makes me look even crazier than they already think I am.
But that's okay! I don't really care what anyone thinks of me.
”What’s wrong… Andy ? That’s your name, isn’t it?” My condescending tone will definitely send him over the edge. I enjoy pushing people’s buttons. It’s fun to watch them get all riled up.
”Shut the fuck up. You will be calling me Master by the time I’m done with you.”
”Not fucking likely… Andy .”
Turning with his hand still wrapped tightly in my hair, he pulls me along to follow after him, laughing while I stumble next to him in a half bent-over position as he stalks away from the common area.
I can see patients, nurses, and other staff still watching, but they do nothing to interfere. Jackson just stands watching, and he really looks conflicted about wanting to stop whatever this is that’s happening or just let it play out.
A few steps out of the common area, my eyes connect with one specific nurse that I cannot stand…Christina. The smile immediately drops from my face and I’m no longer laughing.
Fucking Christina! The other intake nurse who had her fun when I first came in as well. She just smiles as we walk past her.
Fucking bitch!
She will get hers before I leave this place as well. Trust me.
”You will crawl on your hands and knees begging me to fuck you before we’re done,” Andrew growls into my ear. His rancid breath makes me want to retch.
”The fuck I will,” I growl out, taking my focus off the foul bitch nurse. “In your fucking dreams.”
The laugh that emits from him is low, sounding sadistic and evil. “We’ll see about that.” His confidence in this situation is astounding to me.
He should know how stubborn I am from our first interaction. I don’t give in easily and all I do is frustrate the shit out of him, which to me is even funnier.
Did his time away from here make him forget?
That’s okay…I will be happy to remind him.
Scanning his card next to a set of double doors, he pushes through with me still in tow by my hair. This specific hall leads to the doctors’ and nurses’ offices, along with a few open medical stations. I’ve been down here for my few sessions with Dr. Graveheart.
Dr. Graveheart thinks he can fix my kind of issues with words.
Both mine and his.
Highly doubtful, but it’s fun watching him try.
We pass all the doors that I recognize, which I expected him to stop at one of them, but he keeps walking straight through.
Regrettably, he pushes into the area that holds all the solitary confinement rooms, and now I’m beginning to second-guess my situation. If he puts me into one of these rooms and leaves me here, it will put a hamper on my current plan to escape.
I can’t show him any fear…
But I can show him anger and condescension.
”Where the fuck are you taking me, dickhead? Are you even allowed back here?”
Ignoring my last jab, he replies to my first question. ”Somewhere we can have a little privacy and not be disturbed for a bit,” he growls out, looking straight ahead. “I told you…I missed playing with you.”
”Well,” I grunt as he continues to pull me along, still stumbling next to him. “…as long as I’m back before lights out. I have a hot date with Jackson tonight.” I laugh.
“Let’s see if you keep that sense of humor by the time I’m done with you.”
Scanning his card again, he kicks open a door at the end of the hallway and shoves me through the door, landing on the ground, scraping the palms of my hands and probably bruising my knees. I hear the door slam shut as the lights flicker to life.
My hair is coming out of the loose ponytail from the way he pulled me around. I flip my head, then brush the loose tendrils out of my face as I glance around over my shoulder. I see I’m in a stark white room that is a little colder than the main rooms.
There are a few sets of manacle cuffs at the top and bottom of one wall.
There is a long metal table with several different items laid out on the top, but from my position on the floor, I can’t get a good enough look to see exactly what they are.
But I’m pretty sure they are all types of torture devices, knowing this asshole.
Looking over my shoulder, I glare at him as he removes his white overcoat and hangs it on a hook by the door. I push myself up from the floor. As I stand up straight, I turn to look him in the eye. I will not show any weakness to this cocksucker.
“Strip,” he orders, as he carefully takes a step closer.
“Fuck you,” I respond in a growl. If he really wants to do this, he’s going to have to really commit.
”Strip or I will do it for you,” he says, a devious smirk lifting the sides of his lips. “And you will be walking back to the unit completely naked after I’m done with you because I will rip every piece of clothing from your body.”
He takes a menacing step toward me. Tilting my head to the side, I hold my position because I refuse to let this little bitch boy think he scares me. After all, he doesn’t. I’m just biding my time right now.
If he wants to play…we can play.
He continues his movements and begins circling me. Turning my head to the side, I watch him as he leisurely walks behind me.
“So we’re doing this the hard way, huh?” he asks with a bit of humor in his tone, and I shrug.
“Depends on how you look at it, I guess.”
Kicking my knees out from behind, I fall to the ground hard. I stop the fall with my hands once again. They are already scratched up from the earlier fall, but before my face hits the ground, I catch myself with a sudden jolt. “Fucking pussy,” I say, trying to push myself back up.
Before I can even plant my foot on the ground, he shoves his shoe into my back pushing me down flat, knocking the breath out of me for a second.
My hands and knees sting even more, but my anger is starting to build, and it’s distracting me from feeling any of the pain.
I’m wondering exactly what he has planned.
The more he pushes me right now, the more gruesome I will make his death when I'm out of here.
Moving over me, he kneels down, one leg on either side of mine sitting on the backs of my thighs effectively holding me in place. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and presses my face into the dirty cement ground, making me hiss as my cheek is scraped roughly into the floor.
”I’m going to…fucking kill you,” I grit out on a harsh breath as best I can.
He leans over me, speaking directly into my ear. “You can’t do shit to me bitch. I’m your master now.”
He licks the side of my face, making me groan at how disgusting his wet tongue feels on my skin. I just want to vomit. His breath smells of cigarettes, old coffee, and rotting soul.
“Ughhh…” I groan loudly. “Can you not? At least brush your fucking teeth first.”
I feel his hand around the back of my neck tighten, making me squeeze my eyes closed from the strain.
I try not to laugh thinking of all the ways I’m going to fucking kill him for this.
From the stinging in my cheek, I know I’m going to have cement burn on my face from the way he’s gripping my neck and pushing my face against the floor.
Yeah sure…I know I’m pushing his buttons. I know the angrier he gets, the more off balance he becomes, and with that the harsher the punishment will be, but I’m also a masochist with a high pain tolerance. So it’s a win-win for me.
He chuckles darkly in my ear as he sits up. He doesn’t remove his hold on my neck, but I feel him shifting around on top of me, pulling something out of one of his pockets. I hate not seeing what’s going on behind me. I’m not one of those girls who enjoy surprises.
Snick.
The sound of a switchblade is heard and the flat part of the cold blade is brought to my cheek with the tip just below the edge of my eye. I don’t flinch or show any emotion at all because that’s what this sick fuck is looking for. He wants me scared and afraid. Shaking and begging for mercy.
Like that’s ever going to fucking happen.
I try focusing on him from the corner of my eye. But the way he’s holding my head, it’s difficult.
“Since you wanted to do this the hard way, you’re going to lie here while I cut every last piece of your clothing from your body. And if you move, I have no problem cutting you as well.”
He begins cutting my shirt off me, forcefully.
The cuts seem to be haphazard until he grabs an edge and begins ripping them.
The cold air makes me shiver with goose flesh, and the coldness of the cement floor is starting to seep under my clothes.
They always keep these rooms so cold. Personally, I think it’s another form of torture.
They say it’s something about keeping the germs away.
Bullshit.
After my shirt is cut and ripped to shreds, he shifts his weight again. The sounds of rustling and the moving of objects around on the metal table next to us are heard.
Oh great. I guess the fun begins.
With extreme force and no regard for anything, he flips me over, still underneath the weight of him. I try fighting back, hitting him as best I can, but he is a bit larger than me, so after placing the blade between his teeth, he grabs both of my flailing arms.
Bringing them together in one of his large hands, he wraps some kind of bandage tape around my joined wrists, even through my struggling. He’s wrapped them so tight, there’s no way of getting out of them in this position, plus bonus points for him, it’s cutting the circulation to my hands.
“Fucking asshole,” I yell, still trying to wiggle out from under him.
He stands up, looking down at me with a devious smile.
He looks downright evil with his knife being held between his teeth.
Reaching up, he casually removes the blade from his mouth as he clicks his tongue.
“If I didn’t love your screams so much, I would tape your mouth shut.
Good thing this room is soundproof, huh? ” he finishes, looking around the room.
Reaching down, he yanks me up from the floor by my bound hands, making me yelp.
He pulls me over to the wall with the shackles and lifts my hands up.
He presses his thigh between my legs, rubbing on the apex at my center.
I try squeezing my thighs closed, but it’s no use.
He chuckles deeply in his chest as he presses his entire body against mine, and I fucking hate that my body reacts to his efforts.
My nipples harden, and from his pants pressing into my center, I’m getting wet.
Using the iron manacle in the center at the top of the wall, he secures my tied hands, forcing me on my toes.
I try to kick out, but my knee only connects to his outer thigh with absolutely no strength behind it because of the position he has me in.
He strikes out, slapping me hard across the face, forcing my head to the side.
The sound of the hit reverberates around the room as the pain explodes behind my eyes, making my head throb and my eyes water.
My eyes close, trying to settle my racing heart.
“Save your energy, bitch. You’re gonna need it,” he says. Opening my eyes, I glare daggers at him from under my lashes. I want to wipe that fucking smirk off his face so bad.
I look up at where my hands are locked and I know with my hands tied, there is nothing I can do at this point. So instead of focusing on my current predicament, I start planning in my head, imagining exactly what I will do to him once I’m free.
How I will pull him apart…piece by fucking piece. Limb by fucking limb.
Slow.
Methodical.
Calculated.
Oh, but so much fun!