Chapter 28 Happy Birthday
MAGDALENA
Ialmost fought them when they threw me back in the dark bunker, but what was the point?
There was no way I could escape, I knew that now.
So, all I did was hang onto the memory of that night when Sir fucked me so gently it fooled me into thinking he was making love to me.
I didn’t regret allowing myself to be fooled.
Sick, wasn’t it? Pretending your rapist loves you and cares about you and he’s making love to you when he just held a gun to your head and let more than a hundred people beat you?
Pathetic. But I let all that go, closed my eyes and mind, and just pretended because I knew it would be the closest I’d ever come to being made love to.
As I lay in my bunker alone for days—abandoned, forgotten—only getting a small bowl of bland chicken soup with a tiny piece of bread and water, that night was all I had left to hang onto.
Thinking of the past was too painful, so I focused on that night.
The way he caressed me, kissed my lips, made me come over and over and over again through the night until I was so tired I couldn’t move and just stayed there for him to do whatever he wanted.
My sanity depended on that memory.
The door opened, allowing the light to flash to my face and wake me. Someone took two steps into the room.
“Hmmm?” I moaned, thinking it was the young guy who usually brought my food.
Slowly, I rolled my eyes to the left. Sir was staring at me, waiting for me to move.
It was shocking to see him after so much time, so it took me a moment to know what to do.
There was a slight smirk at the corner of his lips.
He knew I’d missed him. But he was so wrong, I didn’t just miss him. I’d been starving for him.
As he unbuttoned his cuffs, then the rest of the silky white shirt, I crawled toward him.
The need to be kissed, caressed, fucked, and held overwhelmed me.
I tried to remind myself that this wasn’t the fancy apartment with the view; no, here I would not get any semblance of the lover, only the slave trainer and bull.
But I craved it to not be so badly that I couldn’t help but hope.
People always acted like hope was a great thing, something that helped you survive horrible times in your life.
But I already knew hope was dangerous in this place and could kill you.
My nipples were achingly stiff. But to get what I needed, I had to do everything right, so I didn’t meet his eyes or dare to speak.
“Good girl. You’ve learned so much.” He petted me. I couldn’t wait anymore. I had to see him up close, so I looked up. His dick was hard, dripping. It made me happy to know he wanted me as desperately as I needed him. While staring into his eyes, I licked the tip of his cock and sucked on it.
“Ummmmpphhh, Little One. You’ve truly learned your role. I’m so proud of you. Today is a special day. Do you promise to behave?”
I nodded, and in my craving for pain, I took it deep into my mouth until I was helplessly gagging.
“Fuck yeah. Such a good cock sucker.” The deeper, huskier voice praising me had my pussy throbbing. I was so hungry for him.
“You must have been starving for it.” He read my mind. His palms cupped my cheeks while my saliva dribbled down my chin. He pulled away from me.
My brow quivered as my emotions became chaos and shattered somewhere between terror and sadness at failing him.
Except I didn’t know what I’d done wrong.
He studied me, so I lowered my cheek to the ground to show him respect.
What did I do? Stupid, stupid Magdalena.
Now there was no chance he’d show me any affection.
It was all I wanted. I would have done anything for it.
He walked away and turned the shower on.
“Come.” I stood and walked to him. After he washed and rinsed me, I kept my back to him, drowning in sadness and wondering how I could mend my failure.
My eyes studied every detail of the floor while he dried me and twisted my hair into a bun.
He secured a tight collar around my neck. “You’re ready now. Follow me. Crawl.”
I was surprised to step outside the room.
The floor was smooth and cold on my knees and palms. We passed trainers, slaves, nurses, and guards.
The slaves were always naked, with their heads hanging, one hand across their chest and the other over their pussy, trying to cover themselves.
I could tell who had been here for a long time because they didn’t cover anything.
The trainers greeted each other like coworkers or colleagues.
We walked through a few halls before stopping outside a door.
“If you behave, you’ll be able to go outside and meet other girls. ”
The excitement erased all other thoughts from my mind. I smiled at him and squealed. “Outside?” I’d not thought that was possible. Then I realized he was glaring at me; I had already fucked up again by speaking without permission. My smile melted away.
“This is your new room,” he announced as he opened the door.
The room was twice the size of the other one. There was a mirrored wall next to another door that didn’t lead to the bathroom. In a dark corner, sat a locker cabinet, and there were ropes hanging from multiple brackets in the high ceiling.
“Get into position.” As I obeyed him, he went into the bathroom, then returned.
He parted my butt cheeks and slowly, like he’d done on stage and so many times before, pushed something solid and slippery into my butt. I wasn’t allowed to protest, so I showed my discomfort through my breathing.
As I studied the patterns of fissures on the cobblestone floor, he poured a hot liquid over the spine of my back. I hissed and cringed, rubbing my thumb against the roughness of the floor, and the liquid solidified, searing my skin.
“Remember what I said, slave.”
Slave? He never called me that. After a few seconds, the heat disappeared, leaving my skin sensitive. I winced when it happened again but bit my lower lip in an effort to stay quiet.
Sir poured a few drops more near each other.
I suppressed the pain in the same way, by wincing, biting, shutting my eyes tight—trying to disconnect.
There was nothing else I could do. He promised if I behaved I’d get to go outside and meet the other girls.
I—Oh, fuck, that hurts. That hurts. It’s too hot, too …
hot. Fuck. I can’t. No, I have to. I want to go outside. I want to go outside.
The drops became bigger, covering more of my skin, taking longer to cool down and trailing down my back, sometimes to my butt crack.
I arched my back the most I could while wincing.
Short gasps escaped me, but I had to take it.
My chest heaved, dreading every single drop.
A layer of sweat covered my body because of the fear but also from the heat.
It will be over soon. Just a few minutes.
I was terrified of it getting hotter and blistering my skin.
It became more than just drops here and there, he poured, and it slid over my waist and shoulders, then formed like icicles do.
He scraped them off as soon as they solidified and poured again over the skin that was already mildly burned, sensitized.
I couldn’t help the hiss that escaped me.
Sir pushed something into the wet liquid until it solidified, molding to the object.
Wanting to see what he was doing, I looked in the mirror.
A long, white candle was perched on my back.
He repeated the action, switching between long and short, thick candlesticks, until my back imitated an altar.
Sometimes, he’d use so much force the candles broke.
He poured more wax between all of them, burying the bottoms so they would stay in place.
There was a click and then another, and when I dared to peek at the mirror again, I saw he was lighting them. If I breathed too fast or thought of moving, I’d possibly set myself on fire.
A large metal can scraped the concrete floor as he pushed it under me. Some of the wax spilled out of the can and whitened spots on the floor. “Dip your breast in it, Little One.”
I hesitated, then remembered his promise.
“Don’t move,” he commanded when my face contorted, my body trembled at the heat, and a whimper left me.
Air burst from my mouth in puffs while I curled my toes, scraped my fingertips over the floor, and bit my lip.
I couldn’t help but look at the mirror. The candles were the only source of light in the room.
Because of my trembling, the flames moved.
The image of me was an unbelievable work of art, but I couldn’t take it. “Sir—”
“Shhhh …. Remember what I said. Be a good slave.”
I hung my head, staring at the crevices and tiny holes on the floor.
My lower lip, which was now swollen and broken from how much I’d already bitten it, trembled at the burning of my breast.
The heat spread through my body. Fat drops of sweat fell from my forehead.
I was about to tell him it was too hot, but he crawled under me and took my other breast in his mouth, sucking on my nipple and biting it until I gasped, and my groan shrank into a desperate whimper.
“Yes … Yes … Please …” I cried while my pussy ached for him to plunder.
The more he sucked and bit, the more I arched up my back so he could continue for as long as possible.
It was the only pleasure I was getting from all of this.
The thought of him leaving me in such a state almost pushed me into a sobbing. My pussy couldn’t help but throb and drip. I wanted him; I needed his dick inside me, to complete me. The insufferable heat and aching at my pussy forced me to pant like the whore I was—for him.