Chapter 13
Seraphina
“Come on, sweetie. It’ll be different with him. He’s not like Thomas. Or the Beast, as you call him.”
“He’s still a monster, though.”
Mama sits down next to me, stroking my hair. “The days of struggling are over. Alfie is going to take good care of us. He loves you already.”
I look up at her, at the deep lines etched in her face, at the purple circles under her eyes. She’s struggled so much, and at last, she sees the light at the end of the tunnel. I should be happy for her.
The problem is, I don’t see light at the end of the tunnel. Only more darkness.
A worse kind of darkness than before, because I don’t understand it.
“He’ll spoil you, sweetie. Whatever you want, he’ll buy. Remember how you used to dream of owning a sparkly pink dress?”
“I’m fourteen, mama. I don’t want a sparkly pink dress anymore.”
“Please, sweetie. Alfie is a good person. He’s going to take care of you. I promise you that.”
She stares at me, smiling, and her face suddenly becomes mangled, her smile a deranged grimace, smeared with red. But it’s not real life. It’s nothing but a bad dream. A nightmare.
I wake up in a cold sweat, but I’m used to it.
Still, this nightmare was particularly bad. It takes me a while to cut through the fog. By the time I do, it’s noon.
I disobeyed Damien. I didn’t mean to, but I did.
I lay back down, feeling hopeless. It doesn’t matter if I wake up at seven or stay in bed all day. He’s not coming anyway. He’s barely come since he’s brought me down here. I probably won’t see him again for days, so there’s nothing to look forward to.
I stare at the ceiling, replaying what he did to me again and again.
Searching for the pressure again, I drag my hands over my body, twist my own nipples, and inhale as I feel tingling that seems to emanate from my very core. I slide a few hesitant fingers over my stomach, under my panties, and…
A sudden loud noise makes me jerk up, startled. I look around, confused, and see the phone ringing on the other side of the room.
It’s the phone I was staring at last night, a nice change from the blank wall in the living room. I’ve never even thought of using it, though. I assumed it was a toy. And even if it wasn’t, who would I even call?
I stand up slowly and walk over, wondering who it could be.
Damien always leaves Post-it notes under the front door, and that’s usually my only contact with him.
If he’s even the one leaving the notes. I find myself doubting everything lately.
It’s not like me to let things play on my mind like this.
If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s plagued with uncertainty or anxiety.
And yet these days, I seem to be overwhelmed with both of those uncomfortable sensations.
I pick up the phone, swallowing my nerves.
“Yes?”
“Good morning, my naughty girl. Or rather, good afternoon.”
I clutch the phone to my ear as I hear the familiar voice tinged with dark humor.
“Naughty girl?” I echo in a whispering tone.
“Touching yourself,” he murmurs, “and sleeping in so late. Tsk, tsk.”
I can’t help but gasp. “How… how do you know?”
“Do you really think I don’t know everything about you?” he chuckles. “I’m watching you, little pet.”
“You are?”
I look up at the tiny black camera that, like the phone, I’d come to assume was just decoration. Or at least, not in use. But it turns out he has been watching. My cheeks grow hot as I wonder what else he’s seen.
“Guess I’m going to have to punish you,” he murmurs, and I sink to my knees, my heart hammering in my chest. “Too bad.”
He clicks his tongue sympathetically, but I can tell he doesn’t feel bad at all. In fact, he seems to look forward to it.
My hands shake around the receiver, and I wonder how I feel about it. Terrified, yes… but that weird pressure in my stomach is back.
“What punishment?” I breathe.
“You’re a curious little pet, aren’t you? But it’s no fun if I tell you.”
I pass a trembling hand over my eyes.
“You’re right to be scared,” he adds darkly. “Now, hurry. You have exactly five minutes to get ready. Don’t make me wait. The more I wait, the worse it will be for you.”
He hangs up and I stand slowly, inching away from the telephone, my heart in my throat. Then I jump to action when I remember his warning.
Hurrying to the bathroom, I take a lightning shower, brush my teeth, and slip into the first dress I find. Then I sit back down on my bed, twisting my hands nervously in my lap, wondering again what the hell he means by punishment.
With Ben, it was a punch to my head or to my stomach. With the Beast, a beating with whatever he happened to be holding in his hands. With Damien…
I don’t have to wait long. Thirty seconds later, the door opens and he’s standing in front of me, a smirk on his lips.
“Still scared?” he asks, and when I nod hesitantly, he smiles. “Good. Close your eyes and lie down.”
I do as he says, my back and arms pebbling with goosebumps, sweat pricking at my temples. I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel his fingers on my shoulders, sliding down my arms.
“Don’t move or I’ll tie you up,” he warns, his breath hot against my ear.
I take a few deep breaths and will myself to relax. He continues to slide his fingers down my body until he reaches the hem of my dress. He flips it up over my waist and I gasp.
“Shush, pet. Keep still.”
I manage to bite down on a whimper when I feel his fingers flit over to my panties and push the cotton fabric up into my wetness.
“Soaked,” he breathes.
He lets his finger drag against my panties for a few moments while I try my best not to squirm, the pressure building in my stomach.
Then he rips them off and I gasp in spite of myself. He shushes me again, and I feel him draw closer.
It’s absolute torture to keep my eyes closed, unable to see what he’s doing. I feel his hot breath against my thighs, against my mound, against the wet folds between my legs. And then… something wet.
His tongue.
This time, I can’t help but cry out in shock. He doesn’t shush me, though. He merely begins to lap at me.
I blush furiously, hiding my face in my hands. I can’t believe he’s touching me there with his mouth. I’m so embarrassed. I wonder if I smell bad. I must taste horribly. What is he doing?
He chuckles at my reaction and continues to lave my pussy, zeroing in on a single area that increases the sensation one-thousand-fold. Then he applies his lips to it and sucks it in.
I cry out again as the pressure turns into an overwhelming, toe-curling sensation.
It’s pleasure. That’s what the pressure is.
And it’s not right. I’ve never felt this before.
Something must be very wrong with me. I’ve always controlled my body, every part of it, and now, suddenly, something is happening, and I don’t understand it.
My knee jerks out and I accidentally kick him in the face. He pauses for a moment, a bit dazed, and I take advantage of it to scurry to the other side of the bed. I’m both terrified by the fact that I just struck him, and terrified, too, of my body’s reaction to his tongue.
But he only laughs and follows me. I leave the bed and try to run to the bathroom, but he’s faster than me. He grabs me, kicking and yelping, tosses me over his shoulder then throws me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me.
I dare to glance up at him, and shudder at the dangerous hunger glinting in his eyes.
“Feisty, aren’t we?” he growls. “You’ll never win against me, though. I own you.”
I feel something hard press into my stomach. He pins my arms over my head and leans in to kiss me, biting my lower lip so hard I taste copper.
“Feisty,” he grunts again, then lifts himself off me, still holding my arms in his hands.
He pushes them to the bed against my sides, pins them down so I can barely move them, then returns to his place between my legs.
His tongue darts over my folds again, hungrily, sucking and flitting, and he pushes it into me, curling his tongue in and out, touching a soft, spongy area that makes me cry out in surprise and anxiety.
My body is alive with electricity, wetness dribbling down my thighs and drenching the sheets, and I don’t understand what’s happening.
I’ve never been more frightened and embarrassed in my life.
My body’s going crazy, and I can’t make it stop.
But the more I thrash and writhe under him, the faster he goes.
His tongue returns to that soft area within me again and again, then laps at my folds, licking away the wetness as if he finds it delicious, sucking in the little nub that drives me frantic.
He even presses it between his teeth a few times, sending sparks of pain that mingle with the pleasure, making the pressure in my lower stomach even more overwhelming.
All the sensations he’s causing in me seem to fuse together at some point into a delicious, frightening tingle deep within me, that mounts and mounts, invading my whole stomach, making my limbs numb, until suddenly, it bursts, erupting in a wave of something absolutely intoxicating that washes over me.
He continues to flit his tongue over me as I twitch in ecstasy, my vision going white, my body vibrating with pleasure. At last, I lie still, breathing heavily, the sensation ebbing away, but he continues to lap at my pussy until the last of the pleasure dies down.
Then he lets his body fall over mine, crushing me against him.
The moment he does, the realization of what just happened hits me like a blow to my stomach, and I choke out a sob.
He pulls his head back and looks at me, startled.
“You’re crying.”
I shake my head, my tears falling faster.
He stands up slowly, his face a mask.
“You didn’t want this.”
I open my mouth a few times, trying to speak and failing, before managing to blurt out, “Something is very wrong with me.”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“My body felt strange,” I whisper. “I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t control it.”
His surprised expression fades away, replaced by a bark of laughter. He lies back down on top of me, shaking with mirth. I hide my burning face in my hands, torn between shame and anger.
“Don’t you know what that was?” he asks, chuckling.
Anger wins. I look away, ignoring his question, my entire body trembling with rage. He’s laughing at me.
But he doesn’t seem to care. He merely holds my chin and turns my head back toward him. I hide my face. I won’t be laughed at. I don’t have much say in this world, but I’m holding onto that. Don’t fucking laugh at me.
He seems to think my anger is cute, and it makes me seethe.
“That was an orgasm, silly girl. Haven’t you ever had one before?”
He forces my hands away from my face and looks at me, his mouth parted in a large grin.
“My little pet. How old are you? Nineteen? And you’ve never come?”
He’s holding me, but I keep my eyes resolutely averted. If he had only half an inkling of what my life has been like, he wouldn’t come near me. I’d disgust him. This is only the tip of the iceberg.
Right now, I’m wishing he was disgusted. I want him to leave. I’m still fuming. I hate him. I hate him.
The absurdity of that isn’t lost on me. He kidnaps me and locks me up, and I ache for him. He laughs at me, and I want to kill him.
But he doesn’t allow me my anger. He grabs my cheeks between his fingers, pressing them together and forcing me to lift my eyes up to him. All trace of humor has left him, and he stares at me with a dark hunger that makes me shiver.
“You’re mine,” he growls. “Do you understand that? You belong to me.”
He presses his mouth to my earlobe, nipping it hard, and I teeter over the edge, wanting to give in to him, to let him take control, even while anger holds me back, keeping some part of me sane.
But he doesn’t care. And there’s something freeing about that. I can’t keep myself in an iron grip anymore, the way I’ve done my whole life. Control is an illusion. He’s taken it away from me, and all I can do is submit.
And so I do, letting the anger ebb, my aching need taking its place. I close my eyes as his teeth continue to explore my body, leaving little bites and marks all down my left side, his breath hanging hot against my nipples and the place between my legs.
He swipes his hand there and snorts, bringing up a glistening finger to my mouth and rubbing it on my lips. He flips me around on my stomach, smacks my bottom hard and kisses the back of my neck.
“Mine,” he hisses again.
Then he stands up and walks out of the room, clicking it shut behind him.
I’m left alone on my bed, panting with need and utterly confused.