Chapter 4
Chapter Four
I was strapped on a bed with my hands and legs tied to each bed post. My arms were stretched over my head and my legs were spread wide. I tugged the fabric but they refused to yield. I was trapped, and the monsters looming over me looked frighteningly human.
There was mechanical buzzing noise as Olivia switched on that fucked up dildo, about to fuck me up inside. I squirmed as she came closer, my eyes wide as I stared at the object in disgust.
“Please,” I resorted to begging. I’d rather be beaten bloody than raped like an animal.
“Shh. It’ll hurt a little when it’s in for the first time, but don’t worry, it’ll feel good.” Olivia brought that vibrating dildo up my ass and my legs shook. I tried hard to close my legs but I was bound on the bed, my thighs helplessly parted to reveal my balls.
Her other hand reached out and stroked my cock, her dainty fingernails scraping the length in a slow gesture.
I whimpered slightly, my nipples perked.
My back arched and I found myself pushing my dick into her hands, allowing her to fist my cock and pump it.
Thick waves of arousal caused my cock to stir before it lengthened further and stood erect like a proud stallion.
I was disturbed at my sudden erotic thoughts, but when your dick is in a girl’s hands, it stirs your animal instincts to fuck.
“There’s a good boy,” she whispered as she continuously pumped my cock with her little hand. She looked almost hungry as she saw the thick shaft bead precum at the tip.
Taste it. Taste my cum, I wanted to say, but I was too lost in my haze of arousal.
“Ah fuck!” My back arched as I felt something foreign at the entrance of my anus. I squirmed further, feeling its head entering me, pushing itself against the tight, slick walls.
“N-no, please!” I cried out as it continued to drill its way through and I felt its vibration pulsing my entire ass. My cock moved with the vibration. I was so hard and it hurt. It hurt so damn much.
“Please, Mistress. Please, it hurts!” I was sobbing more loudly now and I didn’t care if I looked like a pussy.
The dildo pushed further into me until I was completely full.
My buttocks clenched hard, squeezing it tightly, my slick juices lubricating the shaft.
Through my haze, I saw Mario take his cock from his pants and stroke it with his hands, pumping his cock up and down in response to the show.
He came close to me and I had a sudden wave of revulsion seeing the purple veins around his thick cock as he pumped himself furiously.
“No. No, please, no,” I whimpered.
With a scream, I let go. Spurts of hot cum squirted from my cock, drenching Olivia’s hands with my seed.
My ass screamed with the invasion and the shaft slipped out, followed by a burst of sticky liquid.
Mario joined in as he moaned, working his cock faster and faster until long ropes of milky cum shot over my body, all the way from my torso to my dick.
I hurt everywhere. I wanted to cry and curl myself into a ball. Mario looked at the mess on my body with satisfaction, his hand still fisting his cock.
“Next time, your lesson is to swallow my load without gagging.” His voice was thick with lust and I wanted to vomit.
Olivia dipped her fingers into my anus and smiled a little. “See, it’s loosening up. You might be able to survive this after all.” She bent down and kissed my forehead.
I turned my head away from her. I hated her for hurting me, and I was more confused to see her treating me gently. I wanted to keep labelling her as a bitch-that-needs-to-die, rather than a gorgeous woman with the smile of an angel.
I had no idea how long I’d been as a slave.
A Keleb. Olivia gave me lessons every day, and each day, my asshole widened up bigger and bigger.
Sometimes it wasn’t the dildo that fucked me.
Sometimes it was Mario. Sometimes it was other men.
I wanted to scream, but they loved to hear my tortured cries.
I preferred the dildo to their cocks. At least the dildo was inanimate, but the men…
I could feel their cocks pulsing inside my ass, as if they were living inside me, becoming part of me.
Each day I was more vulnerable than the last. Each day Olivia and her men stripped away more of my sense of self.
And now she’d taken the last of it, the last of me, as she allowed man after man to take his turn with me.
She would always watch, her eyes devoid of any emotion.
But what did that make me? An extension of her?
Of them? I didn’t know. Didn’t want to know.
I thought of pain next. A man straddled me as he repeatedly whipped my back with a leather crop, over and over until I felt my skin slice open and blood run down my back.
He brought my ass up as he slammed his dick inside me, getting more turned on as more blood spilled from my body.
I bit my lip to keep from crying out. They loved it when I screamed. It made them harder.
I lay at night on the dirty sheets, my face caked with dry tears. I was left alone at last, alone and broken. Some stories aren’t black and white. They are the color of your heart. For me, my stories are painted with blood and pain. Crimson and black.
I heard Olivia’s footsteps as she approached closer.
Her cold hands brushed my fevered skin. Her touch was as gentle as a mother.
She placed a basin of water by the side of the bed and drenched a white towel in the water.
Olivia washed my dirty face with the towel and she softly wiped my semen-covered body clean.
I let her wash my back, and the towel was soon dyed with my blood.
“Sing to me,” I whispered. Her hands stilled on my body.
Then soft hums filled the sad room. It was eerily beautiful and sad at the same time.
It was consoling. I closed my eyes to her quiet humming.
She ordered those men to rape me. She ordered them to hurt me.
Then she came and tried to heal the wounds she’d inflicted on me.
She was my tormentor and my solace, the creator of the dark and the light within.
I accepted it then. That the only way to truly be safer was to accept the dark, to walk in it with eyes wide open, to be a part of it.
To keep my enemies close. My body racked with dry sobs and I tried hard to keep the sounds inside me.
But Olivia must’ve heard it then, as she wrapped her arms around me and I clung to her as hard as I could.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she kissed my hair.
I didn’t answer. It wouldn’t change a thing.
She kissed my scars and she created new ones for me.
She was still my tormentor. I didn’t care that she would undoubtedly hurt me at any moment.
Right now, I just needed somebody to hold me…
to tell me these exact words. It’s going to be okay.
It wasn’t, of course, I knew that. But I didn’t care, I needed the lie.
Sometime later, we lay on the bed with our faces inches apart.
We stared unblinking at each other’s eyes.
Her eyes were deep chocolate brown. Sometimes those eyes held no emotion, sometimes they were cold, but tonight, just for tonight, her eyes were warm.
I stroked her soft cheek and she allowed me.
In the dark, my mistress let down her guard and she was just a normal girl.
She was just Olivia. Livvie. She didn’t punish me.
She didn’t push me away emotionally. She held me until the nightmares passed.
She cleaned my broken body. She kept me from falling into insanity.
In the dark, she seduced me. I didn’t want the seduction to end.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked her.
“This?” She frowned in confusion.
“This.” I gestured with my hands. “Why couldn’t your father do it himself instead of you having to buy men for him? Why involved you?”
Olivia’s eyes cast down but I saw a twinge of regret in those chocolate brown depths.
“I’ve seen so many dead bodies because of my father.
He’s just…brutal when it comes to fucking.
So I took the role as trainer and tame the men before presenting them to him.
At least I gave them a chance to survive.
They can endure better with him if they’re prepared. ”
“And you want me to go to that kind of bastard who rapes others until they’re dead?” My voice raised few octaves higher.
“It’s not about what I want.” Olivia shook her head.
“But you allow it.”
“I have no choice! If I ignore this, men will die. My father is also a very influential man. I would die if I leave,” she said bitterly.
I sensed sadness radiating from her and realized something—I wasn’t the only victim.
Olivia may be the perpetrator in my story, but she was a victim in hers.
She didn’t do this out of her own free will, but did that make her innocent?
She was an associate to her father’s crimes.
I wanted to get angry at her. I wanted to hurt her so badly that my palms twitched at the thought of it.
But when she lifted her sad eyes at me, all I wanted was to hug her close to me and never let her go.
I moved forward and kissed her softly. Her eyes widened by a fraction before she tugged me closer and opened her mouth.
I took that chance to enter her, my tongue exploring her, tasting her.
She felt soft and warm, and delicate like a fragile flower in winter.
She wasn’t as cruel as the rest of my captors.
She wasn’t kind either, but at this moment, I allowed myself into her soft embrace.
I wanted to forget that I had been violently violated by men and I would soon serve to her father as his whore.