8. An Escalation
Chapter eight
An Escalation
Astoria
Three hours. That’s what it takes me to put a lock on the front and back door. When I begin putting the second lock on my bedroom’s door, my phone vibrates and I thank the lord because my fingers hurt from holding all these screws.
Mindy: Do you want me to pick you up? I’m right around the corner.
Me: Please do.
At the Twerking Café
I hold my scorching hot mocha coffee with both hands, sipping only a little as I study Mindy’s face.
“Okay. What’s his name?” Of course, the minute she asks that question, my cheeks burn and I nervously titter .
“It’s a guy from work,” I lie.
“Oh? What’s his name?”
“Julian.”
“Nice. So, what’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing, I just met him the other day. He does seem like a one, and you know how allergic I am to those kinds of men. I mean he’s cute and flirts a lot." I bit my bottom lip nervously trying to come up with something nice to say. "No, but he's alright. That’s all. I told him we can only be friends.”
"Huh." She narrows her eyes into slits with suspicion.
"What?" I sense her immediate disapproval and don't know how she can already tell that something is not right.
"I hate this guy already." She sips her coffee.
"How? I mean why?"
"You're doing that thing again, Astoria."
I stare at her, willing her to explain what she's talking about.
She sucks her teeth. "You're doing that number thing you tend to do. You assign numbers to people. You did it when your dad disappeared, then with both Emmanuel and Jeremy."
God, I didn't think she'd noticed how I tend to go into my numbers world. I sigh. "I guess I've been out of the dating game for so long that I'm really nervous."
"You promise that's it?"
I nod because it's the only way I can lie to her.
“So you told him you can only be friends… You’re going to play hard to get?"
I nod again.
"Nice. I’m proud of you.” Mindy smiles and nods back at me.
“Proud of me? Why?”
She tilts her head with empathy filling her eyes. “Because you’ve been alone for too long, Astoria. You took your break up with Emmanuel way too hard–”
I roll my eyes while she speaks. “I didn’t take it hard. I needed time for myself. I needed to focus on my studies and finding a job.” Anger seasoning all my words. When will she realize not everyone is as sharp as she?
“Yes. I’m sorry I said that.”
“Just remember, I don’t work the same way you do, Mindy.”
“I know. So… when do I get to meet him?”
“We haven’t even gone on a date. Chill girl.”
“I guess when you’re happy and in love, you can’t help but want the same for everyone else.”She chuckles then shrugs. The smile doesn't falter from her face for a second.
“In love? Mindy, don’t you think this is going too fast? With Fernando, I mean?” My eyebrows are furrowed. I'm really surprised and confused that Mindy of all people would fall so fast and hard for a guy she just met.
“It is, but I can’t help it. I haven’t told him how I feel, though, and I won’t until he does.” She shrugs.
As I almost give into telling her the truth, I stuff my mouth with the whole tiny vanilla scone. Julian is not a nice guy, but he’s the only guy who has ever made me come. No. I can’t tell her that. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Astoria.” Mindy’s raised voice shakes me out of the Julian-trance.
“What? Something wrong?”
“I’ve been asking you if you want to go watch a movie after this, and you’ve been in la-la land.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.”
“If this is how that guy has you before the date, you’re gonna be a zombie after.”
I chuckle. Oh, Mindy… if only you knew how fucked I really am.
It's late at night when I get home. I rush to lock every window and door, including the one in my room. He's not going to get in here tonight. Feeling more confident about my safety, I take a shower.
As I’m stepping from my ensuite bathroom to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around my body, I see him. He's dressed in all black with the ghost face mask on, climbing through my window, one leg inside the room already. I scream and run to the door, unlock the two new locks before his arms wrap around my waist and pick me up, dragging me away.
"No! Let me go! Let me go!" I can’t stop screaming or kicking. The towel unravels as I struggle. His chest bounces as he laughs, muffles my words by covering my mouth.
I shake my head trying to free my mouth from his palm and manage to bite it. “Leave me alone!” He's too strong and fast. Before I can register what's happened, he slams me on the bed so hard I bounce. I hiss at the pain in my lower back from the impact, but his only response is his diabolical laughter.
“You're so fun, Astoria. Nice try.”
I’m already exhausted, out of breath and covered in sweat, trying to recover from the pain and the energy-draining fight. He hovers over me with his fists on either side of my head. Our gazes lock. The horror drowns me, rendering my thoughts useless. I hear my own breathing quicken and tremble, my heart drumming in my ear, and I can't stop myself from swallowing deep. Where as I was screaming at the top of my lungs a minute ago, now I can't get a word out. He covers the mouth of the mask with his forefinger. "Shhh."
Blood drips from the bite on his thumb to my chest. My breathing rushes as I wonder how he's going to make me pay for hurting him. Slowly, I shake my head, wanting this to not be real. He lowers his thumb to my bottom lip and wets it with the blood. By instinct, I lift my chin and his thumb slowly sweeps down my neck, then the middle of my chest. "Stop… Please."
But he doesn't stop. I pull at the sheets to cover myself, but he yanks them away, the force pulling another scream from me. He stares at me, probably enjoying the fact that he’s forcing me to stay like this: naked, vulnerable. I cover my chest with my arms and bend my legs up together, trying to hide. Surprisingly, he stands. When he walks around the bed toward the window. I take it as my chance and run towards the bathroom. But within seconds, my hair follicles scream from the pain of him pulling on my hair. He yanks so hard I fall and he drags me back toward the bed.
"Fuck!" I cuss at the rug burn and the headache that he's giving me.
“I brought you a gift.”He places the gift bag on the bed right next to me.
“I don’t want your gifts. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”The only reason why I can dare to speak to him like this is because I'm not looking at him. I'm staring at the bed.
“Take it.”
I ignore him.
“Take it!” he yells so loud I wince, but I don’t move.
With my eyes squeezed tight, I hear the paper bag rustling. He throws some fabric at my face. “Put it on.”
It’s another white babydoll nightgown. This time it’s made of lace, with a bow in the middle of the high waistline. I sit up and obey him while he jerks his cock, watching me as if he can’t wait. The lace doesn’t hide much. My stiffened nipples peek through.
I try not to look at his hard cock while he pleasures it. He drops to his knees, lifts my ankles, and fully bends my legs at the knee so that I’m crouching with them on either side. Then he pushes the skirt up so my pussy is fully exposed.
When he lifts his gaze from my pussy back to my eyes, he says, “You’re wet, Astoria. You’re not supposed to be wet, unless you like what you’re seeing.”I can hear the amusement in his tone.
Just when I’m about to pull down the skirt, he yells, “Don’t!” He pauses, then demands, “Touch yourself.”
I shake my head, but we both know I have no choice. Still holding my ankles, he waits and eventually, I do as I did last night, as I did this morning. I'm shocked at the relief that courses from the tip of my clit to the rest of my body. It feels too good, as if I had been craving this all day.
"Look at me while you touch yourself."
Through the holes in the mask I stare at the two blackest eyes I've ever seen. I can't help but pant and despite my resistance, a hushed moan escapes me. He releases my left ankle, to pleasure himself again while mirroring my whimpers with groans.
“Julian,” I call because I want to ask him why he’s doing this to me.
“Yes?”
Instead of asking him the question, I gasp, then whimper as my insides tighten.
“Just like that, baby. Finish for me.”
But the shame pushes back any chance of that happening. “I can’t.”
Suddenly, he stands up and his hand wraps around my neck. I don’t have time to gasp when the force almost topples me over. I grab his arm with both my hands trying to pull it away. “Go ahead pretty bird, keep touching yourself.”
While holding his arm with one hand I flick myself with the other. I’m lightheaded, already needing to breathe, but I obey him, flicking myself hard and fast, moving my butt back and forth because I’m desperate for him to release me and obviously there's only one way that's going to happen. His cock is right above my face. Drops of his revolting come fall on me. As my eyes roll back, the world darkens, and he releases me. I gasp and cough, but don’t dare stop touching myself. He lifts my skirt, pulls my legs apart, and spits on my pussy again. Feeling the sliminess mixing with my juices makes me flinch in disgust and yet pushes me closer to my climax.
“Julian–” I say in between short gasps, sounding helpless and as if I’m begging him for something.
“Be a good girl and come for me.”
I whimper because it’s not happening this time and I’m scared of what he’ll do if I don’t come right there and then. He chokes me again. His hold is much tighter this time. I’m searching for the high desperately, flicking at my clit and fingering myself. My life literally depends on it. My mouth is open, trying to scream, to breathe in, when he gushes his come into it. He stops choking me and I gag on his juices.
“Swallow it.”
Instead of obeying, I spit it at him, and wipe my mouth while grimacing. So disgusting. He laughs. There's a clapping sound before an excruciating sting spreads across my cheek and pulls tears out of my eyes. I fall off the bed from the force, disoriented, unsure of what just happened but the pain reaches my jaw bone. It's undeniable. He slapped me, really fucking hard. I try to massage the agony away while I lie on the carpet with tears sliding down my cheeks. "Fuck," I whisper. The violence gives me chills. Every time I test how far he'll go, the horror of the answer shocks me.
He grabs my arm and sits me at the edge of the bed again.
“Touch yourself.”
Hysteria clouds my thoughts. I’m sobbing, yet obey, feeling so weak and pathetic. He kneels in front of me, yanks the strap of the nightgown over my left shoulder and within a second, his warm, wet mouth sucks at my breast. Simultaneously, his palms force open my thighs. I gasp at the two new sensations and tense at how near my pussy his fingers are.
The strong pulling from his mouth generates electric currents that travel through the whole of my breast. My gasp devolves into a cry and I accidentally lick my lips tasting the blood and come he wet them with. His mouth on my tit… It feels so fucking good. I pant, and short, high-pitched whimpers spill from me as my insides melt and squeeze. I long to be massaged and stretched the way Dr. Michaelson did it. A heat burns my entire body at the thought of him. "Oh my God."
I don’t know what he’s going to do next, but he doesn’t stop sucking my nipple. My eyes roll back as my moans elongate and get louder. Fuck. I want him to touch me there so bad. The ache is unbearable.
I pull my chest to feel more of the intensity of his sucking, relishing the pain when he bites my nipple. I’m so high on the dual pleasure, so desperate to come; I finger myself with three fingers, then start flicking again. My entire hand is drenched. I’m wailing in frustration, needing to reach that high. My only comfort is that he doesn’t stop.
“Ju-Julian. Julian!” I scream and my whole body spasms and trembles, shattering under a euphoria that only lasts seconds before the torture of reality crashes on me.
“Fu–ck!” I screech while my fat tears rain down. My body quakes at his unending sucking.
He digs his fingers deeper into my skin, then pulls back, readjusts the mask, and stares at me. His saliva has the whole of my stiffened nipple glistening. I can still feel his lips pulling, his wet tongue caressing, his teeth nipping. Our gazes lock; fresh, hot tears trail down my face. This is not the face I want to see. I want to be loved, not used by some horrible-looking masked psycho.
“Who the fuck are you?” I scream and push the mask up so that it falls a few feet behind him. He stays there.
What’s staring back at me, you ask? A man with black hair and eyes, and a skeleton painted on his face. With such little light and all the paint on his face, it’s difficult to imagine how he really looks. I have no idea who he is, making the panic in the pit of my stomach bubble up. How do I appease a complete stranger? Why is he doing this to me?
A minute passes by while we study each other, with me panting in terror. My mind is a fucking mess. “No. No–”
He slaps me again. This time, I don’t fall to the floor. I turn on my belly, crawling away from him across the bed toward the window, but he drags me back by the ankles and pins me down. Both my arms are crossed, pushing down on my spinal cord in his tight grip. My legs hang over the edge of the bed. I gasp at the sting and sound of his other palm spanking my ass cheek and then try to pull away but his grip only tightens.
Fuck. That hurts.
Automatically, my body tenses, failing to find relief. I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, trying to endure and conceal the severity of the pain so he can’t get off on it. But by the third spank, my skin is too sensitive and I can’t contain the scream that rips out of me. God, I’m such a weak bitch. I bury my mouth on the bed, muffling my next screams and trying to hide, even if just a little how much it hurts. It's not my first beating ever but that was when I was a kid. Apparently, I'm out of practice. I can’t let him win. Gathering all my courage, energy, and defiance, I dare to scream, “I fucking hate you!”
He loses it, spanking me harder and faster until I’m shaking, cringing and dreading the next one every time. My toes dig into the carpet, pushing my thighs into the edge of the bed, trying to run away from him.
“Ah–! Fu–ck!”
There’s no escape. I lose count of how many times he spanks me.
“Stop. Please, stop.” I lift my head up to wail and screech, squeezing my eyes tight, unable to take anymore.
Spank.
“You look so fucking pretty. Cry for me.”
Spank.
“Julia–n!”
Spank. Spank. Spank.
“Sto–p!”Blotches float in the air after screaming that hard. All my energy is going into biting my lip, my body tensing to the point of shaking.
Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank.
A short gasp escapes me as I feel the warmth of my own urine on my inner thighs. This can’t be happening. My mouth falls open and my eyes widen, mortified. I realize he’s stopped because this is what he wanted, for me to lose control. I try to move way but he doesn't release me. All I hear is our heavy rushed breathing. The embarrassment breaks me down into silently weeping. My body is covered in sweat, and the handprints on my ass throb relentlessly.
“Now. Let’s try this again.”
The stinging on my scalp when he yanks my hair makes me wince. "O–w!"
He turns me to face up then drags me until my head is hanging from the other edge of the bed. His hand flattens on my midsection.“Listen to me very carefully, Astoria. You move from here and you’ll beg for your death. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” My breathing is still shaky from the sobbing.
“We’re going to have to start all over again. Come for me again.”
What? That’s impossible. My eyes widen and I shake my head. Wrong response.
“Ah––h!” I scream when he grabs the nipple he’d been sucking, twists it with all his might and doesn’t release it.
I touch myself. He jerks his already hardened dick with his other hand while watching me. When the first whimper comes out of me, he releases of my nipple.
“Yes, little bird. That’s it. God, you look magnificent,” he growls.
My nipple throbs as circulation returns to it. I whimper again at the force with which he takes my breast into his mouth. It's warm comfort after such excruciating torture, brainwashing me into believing this is all I've ever wanted. His tongue flicks my numb nipple back to life, stiffening it. His free hand caresses my belly, slowly nearing my pelvic area more and more.
“You said you wouldn’t touch me. Stop.”
“It was your choice, little bird. You escalated it–"
"No. Please, don't. Please."
"Yes. You unmasked me. Every fucking day you show me how much you want me. You don’t have to beg so hard, you know? I want you too.” He sucks on my breast again, harder, pulling a long moan out of me.
The tip of his fingers are right above my pussy, but they don't move farther. There's a part of me that needs him to go further down, but I hate that part of myself. “I don’t want you. You’re just hurting me.”
He ignores me. Short gasps keep coming out of me as my eyes roll back and close again, feeling the sucking and flicking, my body tensing. With the groans that come out of him, my clit thanks me for every stroke. Fuck. That insufferable ache takes over the inside of my pussy. It pulls a weeping from me. I fold my legs and open them, craving more, feeling the ending coming. It's frightening but I've never wanted anything this much.
“Julian.”
I’m met with more moans, and sucking which push me over the edge. My body coils with maximum tension until I'm quaking violently, until I stop breathing.
I explode.
My clit and insides push currents of pleasure through me, each flutter ripping a new loud moan out of me.
One of the ripples rolls all the way to my brain and warms it, followed by a strong relief. Nothing else matters. My butt jolts from the bed several times as the intense waves keep flushing through my body. Overwhelmed, and scared that this will not end, I can't help but scream. My hands are fisting the sheets when I dare open my eyes, staring at his painted face. I'm trembling like a leaf in the middle of winter, completely out of breath.
“That’s my perfect pretty bird.” Why do I feel beautiful when he calls me that? Their fake gentleness calms and soothes me. I can't believe I'm falling for them at all.
“You came before me, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
The shame drowns me. This is so disgusting. It’s sick. I don’t want to come like this, with him–for him. It’s just more proof that my mother was right. I’m just a cheap whore.
“Don’t cry, pretty bird. It’s coming. It’s coming.” He pulls my shoulder so I lay flat, facing him again. “Open your mouth.”
He wants to pretend I was begging for come? “No.”
He pinches my nose so that when he spurts, the hot come spills straight into my mouth.“There you go. Gosh you were starving for it." Then forces my mouth closed by pushing my jaw up. "Go ahead, I know you want to swallow. Let me see how hungry you are for it.”
It’s so fucking disgusting–salty, thick, creamy. I want to vomit so bad.
He coats my lips with more. “Lick all of it.”
Sick bastard.
He chuckles at my disgust. I don’t know what’s scarier, when he wears the mask or when he smiles like this. He spills the rest of it on my breast. “Take the come and finger yourself with it.” I thank God I have my birth control in order. Later, when he’s gone, I’ll bathe in bleach, but for now I have no choice but to obey this deranged sicko.
He hisses, jerking until his dick is limp. “Now that you’ve learned how to be a good girl, go to sleep,” he whispers into my ear before kissing my cheek. I cringe away from him to where my pillows await.
He leaves me no choice but to lie on my belly because of the hot pain on my butt cheeks. Last time I could contain the distress. I hoped that he'd only do this once. This time, there's no denying the severity of my situation. This man is going to keep coming back, and I can't stop him. He knows where I am at all times. As violent sobs and fat tears stream out of me, I hear him walking around, picking up his things.
"I like that you watch me getting dressed."
I turn my eyes to him and wipe my tears, trying to calm myself but like the last time, he doesn't leave. It takes forever for the exhaustion to set in, making my eyelids too heavy to keep open. The whole time, he sits on my loveseat, watching me.