Chapter 8
Nash
I try to lift my head to watch her as she makes her way up my body, but I don’t have the strength. I don’t even know if I could fight her if my arms and legs weren’t strapped down.
I’d guess she’s the same woman from the last time I had contact with someone other than Pirro and his goons, but I can’t be a hundred percent sure because of the mask covering most of her face.
Imagining there’s more than one woman in the world as cruel and evil as that first woman makes my head spin, so I settle into the idea that this is the very same one who sucked me off on command and then treated my wounds.
I haven’t been given much of a reprieve. It feels like I’ve been here for months already, not a handful of hours going past before Pirro is standing in front of me with a scalpel or some other device to hurt me with.
I’m freezing, my body trembling uncontrollably, every muscle aching more than I ever thought was possible.
I’ve been in some pretty uncomfortable situations, but even combining all of those together wouldn’t get close to how I feel now.
Being poked, prodded, stabbed, and at one point, zapped with electrical charges, have made me weaker than I’ve ever been.
I attempt to press into her, not wanting her to touch me on any level, but desperate for the warmth her skin against mine brings.
They had to have given me fucking Viagra or some other fucking drug because my cock is responding to her in a way I’d never want if left to my own devices. I growl, the sounds I’m making as weak as my muscles feel.
Her lips are warm as they brush my skin, but each press of them leaves behind a wetness that has the power to chill me to the bone.
When she’s near my face, I contemplate biting her fucking nose off, but the look in her eyes makes me freeze.
I can’t fully understand, and maybe that’s partly because my mind is a fucking mess right now, but there isn’t taunting in her gaze.
She looks no happier to be here than I am.
Maybe my brain is seriously fucking with me.
Maybe I’m seeing what I want to see, if only to make it easier on myself.
I shake my head as much as I can manage when she settles on top of me, the warmth of her cunt pressing against my length.
I swear I’ll choke and die if she keeps it up because I’m going to fucking puke.
She leans forward as if she’s going to kiss me, her lips brushing my jaw.
“They’ll hurt us both if you don’t fight me.” Her words are lower than a whisper, and hard to fully decipher without my full concentration, which is impossible right now, considering everything I’ve been through.
There’s pleading in her eyes when she stares down at me.
It leaves me torn. I want to fucking fight her because I hate what’s fucking happening right now, but at the same time, she has to know that no matter what I do, I’m going to be hurt.
Fighting her may ensure she’s safe, but it means fucking nothing for me.
When they unstrap me from this damn table, Pirro’s going to pull that fucking knife out and start slicing away at my skin once again.
I’m not fucking interested in helping this bitch out.
If I’m going to be hurt, she can be hurt too.
I turn my eyes up, the ceiling of the room covered in too many lights to count.
I’m stubborn if anything, and I don’t care about the sadness in her eyes. I doubt she was looking sad when she quietly sat to the side that first day when Pirro worked me over.
I’m considering dying just to spite her when pain radiates in my rib cage. My body instinctively tries to curl to the side. I watch as she looks away from me to some place over my shoulder, her fingers still digging into the wound on my side.
When she looks down at me, I have full understanding. Fight her for them or she’ll make me.
As stubborn as I can be, I’ve had enough pain to last several lifetimes.
Her chin quivers as she slips her hand between her legs, and I swear the woman looks like she’s about to be sick.
I shake my head, trying to clear it of any sympathy threatening to form for her. I’ve not heard a single threat, witnessed anyone try and hurt her. She’s as willing to do this as I am unwilling, despite her whispered plea in my ear.
I calm but it only lasts a second when I feel her fingers brush another wound.
I growl into the gag in my mouth, spitting every insult I can manage at her. It feels like defeat, giving her exactly what she’s asking for, but my head is no longer controlling my body.
The same goes for my cock, and I hate the way it lifts from my stomach as if seeking her hand.
I try to roll my head away, but a soft yet harsh finger clamps my jaw, forcing me to face her. I clench my eyes shut, refusing the only thing I have power over right now.
She doesn’t pull her fingers from my face as her other hand lines my cock up at her entrance.
It shouldn’t feel good, the way her body engulfs me, but it doesn’t stop the muffled groan from being absorbed into the gag lodged in my mouth.
She looks pissed when she curls forward, her face mere inches from mine. This bitch has the audacity to look mad when she’s the one doing all this shit. I don’t hear any barked commands from the other side of the room. She’s doing this on her own, and I fucking hate her for it.
I try to dislodge her but it’s impossible with the way they have me tied.
Despite knowing I’ll never succeed, I continue to fight, each jerk of my body driving me deeper into her until I’m pressed to the root, the warmth of her body pressing against me from my upper thighs to my lower abdomen.
The heat of her skin is nothing short of miraculous.
She shifts, the grip of her cunt pulling at my cock as she lifts. I want to cry when cool air wraps around my dick, proving just how slick she is, how fucking disgustingly turned on she is to be doing this to me.
A sound draws my attention, but I see nothing but more lights when I look to my right. Confused, I look up at her but she’s staring past my head once again.
It seems like a millennium before she looks down at me, but time no longer has the same meaning for me.
“Fucking whore,” I growl the second she pulls the gag from my mouth, but that same familiar but somehow also foreign sound echoes through the room over and over.
It hits me as hard as Pirro’s fist did earlier today when I attempted to fight them when they came into the tiny cell they’ve been holding me in.
We’re being recorded and someone is watching live. Every trill of that sound means the customer is fucking paying more money. It’s a reward for doing exactly what he wants while he watches, no doubt stroking his cock and getting off.
I lock eyes with her, hating the sight of a tear shimmering on the bottom lash of her left eye. She hates this, possibly hates me as much as I hate her. She’s playing a role.
They’ll hurt us both if you don’t fight me.
Her words make perfect fucking sense now.
The thought that I’m victimizing her as much as she is me makes my stomach turn. I haven’t been fed much since being brought here, so there’s no real threat of getting sick, but it doesn’t stop the acid from pooling in my throat.
I jerk to the side, nearly unseating her, but when we lock eyes, she seems to understand that I’ve figured it out.
She lifts her hands, secretly swiping away the tear that was threatening to fall, before tangling her fingers in her wet hair.
She lifts and raises, spearing herself on my cock over and over. I hate that there’s a little pleasure that seeps through all the other pain my body is feeling. I hate that my anatomy plans to take this from her despite my brain knowing it isn’t something she wants.
I clench my fists and jaw, hating myself and everyone else in the entire world for the way my nuts draw up.
“Get the fuck off me, you fucking bitch,” I growl, hating the cha-ching sounds echoing through the room.
It seems the pervert likes what he’s watching, and it makes me wonder if she’ll be mistreated more if the guy likes it, or if she’ll be hurt if he doesn’t.
Considering money always makes me happy, I decide on the former, using every ounce of energy I probably don’t have to spare to try and dislodge her from my body.
All the fight leaves my body when she presses her palms to my chest, her ass lifting and swirling, my cock taking all she has to offer.
It feels fucking amazing which is fucked up beyond words.
The talent the woman has in her hips makes me sick to my stomach.
It feels professional, like a mastered skill, and it makes me go right back to thinking she’s fucking playing me, that she’s a part of Pirro’s fucking group.
After looking past me once again, she leans back, her palms on my thighs as she drags her slick pussy up my length, the angle feeling better than it ever should, considering the details of why this is happening.
I squeeze my eyes shut once again, trying to imagine she’s some whore I picked up at the bar and brought back to my hotel room, but that doesn’t work for me. I switch the fantasy to her being a paid hooker, one who’s giving me exactly what I paid for but it doesn’t fit either.
Relinquishing any sort of power during sex has never been my thing. I have never secretly wished that some bitch would take over in the bedroom, and right now is no fucking different.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I threaten, my eyes finding hers once again. “The first chance I get, I’m going to wrap my fucking hands around your throat.”
I snap my mouth closed, my jaw tightening with the first tingle in my nuts.
“I swear it, whore. I’m going to fucking kill you.”
She shakes her head, her mouth hanging open when my body takes over, my hips lifting a fraction of an inch because it’s all I can manage.
Jesus, she’s going to make me fucking come, and there’s not a goddamned thing I can do about it.
I drop my eyes from her face, feeling incredibly disgusted with what’s happening and even more repulsed at what I know is coming, no pun intended.
I scream, the pain almost enough to make me pass out, when she once again digs her fingers into one of my wounds. At least she has the compassion to look upset that she’s hurting me.
My words may not have been a lie or a performance for the cameras. I just may kill this bitch given the chance.
Her mouth hangs open, sounds of pleasure coming from her lips, and it makes me freeze. Not because of what she’s doing but because of what she isn’t doing.
The cha-ching sound echoes through the room, a constant noise, but it doesn’t drown out the fake-as-fuck orgasm she’s playing out. Whoever the customer is clearly can’t tell, but he’s probably some sick fuck in his mom’s basement who’s never had a girl orgasm on his cock before.
The most fucked-up part of all of this is that it still makes me come. Her fake fucking orgasm makes my balls seize and my cock jerk inside of her.
We lock eyes, and I find relief in them, understanding that she’d have to stay up there until I finished because it’s what the man on the other side of his computer wanted. It was the expectation for the prisoner to orgasm, despite wanting to slit the throat of the woman riding him.
She falls forward, the exertion from her faked release rushing past her lips on uneven bursts.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers just before her head lifts to once again look over my shoulder.
I understand that she’s apologizing, not only for what she’s previously done but for everything she’s going to do, as she slides down, my still half-erect cock slipping from her cum-soaked pussy.
Once again I find myself clenching my eyes closed as she licks down my body. I can feel the tremble in her hands now that I comprehend a little more about what’s going on.
I internalize that disgust, hating the way my body enjoys her touch even when I know it must repulse her.
Her lips find the tip of my dick, and I swear I hear her swallow so hard the sound echoes louder than the money sound as she’s tipped heavily for cleaning my cock after fucking me without my consent.
I try my best not to have any response, but the warmth of her tongue on my nut sack makes me arch my head back.
I consider that maybe I shouldn’t feel ashamed for how what she’s doing is making me feel.
It’s the only good thing that I can recall, going even farther back than the night I walked into that bar Pirro was in and joined his poker game.
It hits me even harder that the shame can’t take a foothold, because I lie there and revel in the pleasure her mouth brings.