30. Brynn
H e lays there, half-collapsed on top of me, all fucking night.
When he gets up I play dead, I play docile.
He fucks me again, gently, almost lovingly, and then he gets dressed and heads off somewhere. Work, I guess.
The maids bring me food. They arrive ready to wash me down and they pause, confused when they see I’m no longer tied to the bed. I don’t make a big deal of it, I don’t say a word. What if they decide to lock me back up, chain me again?
I stand still, obedient as they scrub me down, as they spread my legs, and they shave me all over like I’m an invalid. I’m half tempted to grab the razor, but I don’t stand a chance of getting out of this place even if I can overpower them.
When they leave, they switch the tv on to that awful channel, and then I hear the door lock so I know I can’t get out.
That isn’t going to stop me. Not this time.
The sounds of fucking fills the air and I narrow my eyes, trying to block it out.
There’s a bathroom to the left and I search the space, but the window doesn’t open and there’s nothing of use whatsoever.
In the bedroom I try to undo the window, but that too is locked tight and won’t budge.
I can’t get out.
In the drawers there’s instruments, sex toys, things I have no clue what they do, nor do I want to know.
For hours I just pace, covering my ears, trying to come up with some sort of plan but there is none. The maids come back with lunch and this time, because they know I’m not incapacitated, there’s three of them. Two to bar the door, one to put the tray on the bed and pretty much run out, as if I’m contagious.
My mind flickers back to the maids in my home, how they treated me at the end, and it feels the same. I’m not a person in their eyes, I’m a problem.
I stare at the food, a club sandwich and chips. It’s not exactly thrilling but I’m so hungry I wolf it down, practically licking up the crumbs too. The plate is paper, as if they were worried I’d smash a ceramic one and turn it into some sort of weapon.
I snarl, folding my arms, pacing the room again as I realise I can’t get free, but I can get even.
The door opens. Conrad peeps through it as if he’s expecting me to be there, splayed and ready like I’m a mindless slave now.
As he steps through I move quickly, bringing the lamp down on his head and it shatters into a million pieces like an explosion.
He groans, falling onto his face and I take the chance to drag him, to tie him, to make sure he can’t fight back.
As he lays there, in that same defenceless position he’s put me in so many times, all I can feel is anger. Sheer bloody fury.
“You bastard.” I scream, slamming my bare foot into his side.
He looks around, and I see that smug fucking look on his face. As if this is a joke, as if this is some sick game we’re playing.
“I didn’t realise you wanted to be in charge, wife.” He says, in that awful sexy tone.
I kick him again and he rolls over, landing on his side.
But the way he’s looking at me… I want him to feel fear, I want him to understand. Does he see me as that little of a threat, is that it?
I storm over, not even thinking logically about this but he did it to me, he’s raped me so many times. I grab the toy, the big one, the one that he hurts me the most with.
It’s solid enough, and it represents a truncheon in my mind. I whack him around the head, the arms, beating him as hard as he can while I scream out my rage.
He groans and he takes it but still, I can hear the mirth in his voice, the amusement as he taunts me further, like the blows are nothing to him.
Maybe I’m the monster now. Maybe I’m becoming as fucked up as he is, because I’m suddenly clawing at his clothes, ripping his fancy suit off and I’m shoving that thing so hard up his arse he really does react. He jolts, his body locks up and finally, finally he snarls in actual pain.
“How do you like that?” I hiss into his ear. “Huh? You little slut, you want it harder?”
I yank it out and slam it in with all the strength I have.
He growls more, showing that he’s not enjoying one moment of this and finally I feel like he’s getting the point.
“Does it make you feel good, does it make you feel powerful? To hurt me, to rape me?”
I scream the words, thrusting in and out while my arm protests from how weak I’ve become. But I’m not stopping. I won’t stop. I want him to feel it, I want him to understand. He’s so happy to be the aggressor. I want him to feel weak and defenceless.
I want him to beg.
“You get off on hurting me.” I spit. “You get off on inflicting pain, how does it feel to be on the receiving end?”
He doesn’t say anything to that. He just lies there as if he’s submitting to this abuse, but we both know that Conrad is not that person. He wouldn’t just take this, he wouldn’t just give up his dominance.
“How does it feel to beat up a girl half your size? Does it make you feel strong, huh? Does it make you feel like a man, is that it?”
I leave the toy buried in his arse, right up to the hilt. God, it must be in his bowels with how long the thing is and I start laying punches, slaps, using the last of my energy.
I can’t get out. I can’t escape this. And soon, very soon, he’s going to make me pay for this too.
Tears start streaming down my face at that realisation.
Yeah, he will make me pay. But right now, I have the upper hand.
I slam my foot back into his ribs and his hand grabs it, locks around it, pulling me off balance. I land on my arse, hard.
As I look up, I can see the bindings are no longer tight, that he’s pulling them free.
“Naughty, naughty Brynn.” He says, shaking his head with that smug look on his face.
I take a deep, shaky breath before I try to make a run for it. He grabs my ankle again, pulls me back and I land face-first on the carpet.
His one hand holds me in place, proving if nothing else, how much strength this man really has compared to my feeble body. Was he just letting me think I’d won? Letting me think I could hurt him, and all the while he was just biding his time?
“Did you enjoy it?” He whispers into my ear. “Did you enjoy being in charge for once?”
I whimper, curling my fists up into tight little balls. Why am I always on the losing side? Why?
He hauls me up, carries me across the room, and then yanks on a rope that looks like it’s suspended from a beam.
My eyes widen as it drops down. As it dangles there, like a new form of torture I know I’m going to be forced to endure.
He’s quick to grab it, to start wrapping me up, turning me, and then suspending me like I’m a fly caught in his trap.
The ropes cross my body. As I hang there, he ties them more intricately, knowing that now I can’t do a thing to stop this.
“This is called Shibari,” Conrad says, like I give a fuck what its name is.
As he wraps it around so my legs are now bent and splayed, and my heart seems to stop. He ties each end off, before stepping back and admiring his handiwork.
“You look so good,” He says smugly. “Such a work of art.”
I hang my head, hating how helpless I am. Barely five minutes ago, I thought I had the upper hand, I thought for once that I could make a point. Now, I see how wrong I was.
He steps away, grabbing something before he comes back, running his hands up and down my exposed flesh.
“Such a perfect doll,” He states. “We should have done this sooner,”
“Please don’t,” I gasp. Whatever this is, I don’t want a part of it. I don’t…
My mind falters, my body freezes as he pours something cold, something very liquid all over my arse.
No, surely not. Surely, he wouldn’t. He’s obsessed with getting me pregnant. Why would he go there?
Something hard, something that feels unforgiving starts probing me. I know I’m pathetic, I know I brought this on myself but I start sobbing, shaking my head, silently begging now for a mercy that will not be granted.
“Seeing as you enjoyed this so much…” He shoves the toy into my arse, and I scream out as my body can do nothing but take it.
Jesus, it hurts. It hurts so much.
His grip on me is unrelenting. I can barely breathe.
“How about I fuck your arse with the toys from now on, huh? Keep your cunt for just my cock?”
Tears stream down my face. I want this to stop, I want everything to stop.
He pulls it out, and I can feel it dragging my insides. I can hear it, the sound of squelching.
He tuts as he looks at the thing, then comments about how next time he’ll prep me better, whatever that means. And then he’s thrusting it back, pushing it as far as it will go only this time, this time he turns it on.
Something deep inside me starts vibrating.
I hate that I like it, I hate that it actually feels good.
“There,” He mutters, running his hand along my arse cheek. “That feels nice, doesn’t it?”
Can he see? Can he see how my hips are jerking, how I’m slowly turning into such a horny, horrible, needy mess. How I’m a whore. His whore.
God, I’m ruined. Wretched.
There’s no coming back from this. No mercy. I know even now, God is judging this, judging me. This was a test, a chance to see if I’m worthy enough of going to heaven, and I’ve failed. I’ve failed so badly.
A sharp slap makes me hiss. Conrad then gives me another and another.
“I should beat your arse raw for that stunt,” He says. “I should make you bleed.”
I know he will too. I know he will hurt me now.
He spins me around, grabs hold of my face and shoves two fingers as far down my throat as they can go.
“Little slut,” He says, “I’ll give you a choice. Take my cock now, suck it like a good wife, or I’ll give you so many lashes you’ll need stitches to sew your skin back together,”
I know what my choice is. I mean, it’s obvious. He’s tipped the scales, hasn’t he? And besides, we both know I’m a coward.
He drags his hand away, a string of saliva trails down my chin and I wince with shame.
“Tell me, wife, which is it?”
“Your cock,” I whisper as my cheeks flame, as more shame than I could possibly imagine floods through me.
That thing is still there, in my arse, and I wonder if that is also affecting my head. If it’s fucking with it, overriding my senses as I desperately chase something forbidden, something sinful.
“Say it again. Beg me, beg me to be merciful,”
I hang my head for a second, hating how this has turned. How he’s now, once more proving all the power he has over me.
“Please,” I say, “Please give me your cock, please show me mercy,”
“Tell me how much you want it, how much you can’t wait to taste it…”
He’s a bastard, he’s an absolute bastard.
“I want it,” I reply, “I want your cock so much. Please, let me taste it. I need to taste it…”
Is that enough, is that enough fucking humiliation now? Maybe I should have gone for the beating after all. At least I’d be able to look myself in the face afterwards.
I hear the sound of his zipper. It’s not relief I feel, far from it, but the silver lining is that I won’t have to say any more degrading words now.
He pulls his dick out, holds it right in front of my face and then he pulls it back, slapping me across the cheek with it. It doesn’t hurt exactly, but it’s not pleasant. He does it again, and again.
“I’m not sure you deserve my cock,” He mutters. “After that stunt, I’m not sure you’ve even earned it…”
I know what he wants, it’s so damned obvious. He thinks he’s being clever, thinks he’s playing me like I’m a fool.
I hate that I do it, but then, what choice do I have? The longer this goes on, the more humiliating this will be. I part my lips and stretch my tongue out, drawing it right across the tip of him like I’m desperate for every little bit. His precum hits my tongue. It tastes salty, but I know better than to grimace.
He slides himself in, pushes himself as far as he can, as if daring me to protest.
I can taste his sweat, I can taste him .
He takes a handful of my hair and then he starts bucking his hips, fucking my face slowly at first.
“Fuck, Brynn” He whispers, “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this?”
I don’t know if those words are meant for me. They sound too soft, too human to be coming from my husband.
He’s big, I knew that but to have him in my mouth, down my throat? I start gagging, it’s hard not to. My tears stream, but he doesn’t relent. Part of me wonders if this is his plan. To kill me here, to have me literally suffocate on his cock.
He tightens his grip, thrusting more, setting a pace that is brutal.
“That’s it,” he groans. “That’s a good wife. I’ll humble you if I have to, I’ll break you if that’s what it takes. You’ll get so used to my cock down your throat that you won’t be able to function properly without it.”
I narrow my eyes, but I can’t make any reply. I guess that’s a good thing though, because my backtalk is half the problem. If I could learn to shut my mouth, to be obedient… no, I won’t do that. I won’t be that. I refuse to become that creature.
As he starts thrusting harder and harder, it becomes more difficult to breathe.
He grips my hair, practically yanking it out as he becomes that angry beast I’m getting used to seeing now. “Did it turn you on?” He snarls, “Did you enjoy being in charge? Did it make you feel good to have all that power over me?”
Yeah, it did. We both know that, but not for the reasons he’s trying to pretend. It wasn’t some sick sexual game we were playing.
He growls again, raising his hand, slapping me hard again on my arse.
I don’t mean to scream, I don’t mean to jerk but the shock makes me do it. My teeth snag against his cock and he laughs, the bastard laughs.
“You don’t have the balls to do it,” He taunts. “You wouldn’t dare…”
And he’s right, we both know he’s right. As if I’d bite him.
He reaches down, grabbing that toy that’s still buried in my arse and he starts fucking away, fucking me mercilessly like he wants me to come.
“Little bitch,” He groans. “Little fucking bitch. I’ll teach you, I’ll fucking teach you.”
He buries it inside me so aggressively that I scream. And then he’s finally coming, finally growling out his release before he slaps me hard across the face again.