Amaryllis – Bibi Sesay #3
“I’ve been saving this for you for when you are old enough.
” He walks over to the bookshelf and gently swipes his fingers over the middle stack of books.
I’d always thought that it was odd for him to have a bookshelf when I’ve never seen him read.
His fingers land on a book with a red spine that simply has X on its spine.
He rubs his thumb over the spine for a moment, as if he is considering something.
I say nothing, hoping that whatever this surprise is will be something that I can handle.
Marty has never been explicitly cruel to me, which makes his brand of abuse tolerable. But it is abuse, nonetheless.
He pulls the book from the shelf and presses a button behind it.
The entire bookshelf immediately swings left, revealing a door that leads down a flight of stairs.
My breath catches in my throat. This makes more sense than the notion that Marty would ever be a reader.
The stairway is lit somewhere below but a chilly gust escapes that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.
This is one of those times where I know in my gut that something is not right, but my body overrides my brain and responds in a manner that is expected of me.
“Come now, baby. Let me show you what I’ve been working on.
” He holds out his hand and without any thought I put my hand in his.
I want to ask, to question, something deep inside me is screaming at me to say something.
But I cannot. I’m incapable of challenging my captor.
Incapable of questioning his actions. So, I follow him down the stairs to what feels like the bowels of an icy purgatory.
We get to the bottom of the flight of stairs and what stands before me is the most terrifying room that I have ever been in.
On the left is a rack lines with whips and riding crops in all shapes and sizes.
Above the rack is a shelf with a dozen or more dildos standing upright, ranging from what looks like dense silicone to shiny metal.
On the right side of the room is a row of restraints and cuffs, some of which are lined with spikes.
The ceiling has hooks of varying sizes and something that looks like an upside-down toy train track that runs from one end of the room to the other.
Right in front of me is a bed made of leather with four posts and a mirror above it.
There is a bedside drawer with nothing but lube on top, but I imagine what could be inside it.
There are candles everywhere, both red and white, but they are unlit.
It almost seems as if he was trying to make the ghastly scene more romantic.
While I’m lost in thought, taking in the scene before me, Marty comes up behind me and rests his hands on my hips.
“Like it?” I don’t know how to answer that, so I just take a deep breath and say nothing.
“I have had this space renovated since you turned eighteen. I was hoping that someday we would use it and you could even retire from working and just be my girl. You know you’ve always been my baby. My most prized girl. My greatest obsession.
“This could be ours. Just you and me, having epic, mind-blowing sex in this room however we want. To tell you the truth, I never wanted to put you out on the streets with the other girls. I should have kept you for myself, I wish I had. I can never stand it when those other guys get a taste of you. That’s why I was always there to drop you off and pick you up personally.
I don’t do that with any of my other girls, did you know that? ”
I did know. The other girls have always treated me differently because they know I’m the boss’ favourite. I hate it. I have no friends and I feel so alone sometimes. But I get all the best clothes, a date with the boss every year for my birthday, and many nights in his bed.
I should consider myself lucky, right?
I nod, trying to keep my breath even. “Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me.” It’s an effort to keep my voice from shaking. Is the air on in this place? It is getting colder by the minute.
“It’s my utmost pleasure, baby. That’s why I built this for you. You said you wanted out of the life? This is your last job. Be my girl and all your debt will be cancelled.”
“But–” I choke on my words. “But I was hoping to just make a clean break. Maybe transfer to the bar as a server or something? I can work in any of your other establishments if you want. I’m a fast learner and you know tha…
” I’m rambling because I’m equal parts terrified and frustrated.
I don’t want to have sex with anyone else, is that so hard for him to understand?
His hand comes up my chest and grips my neck.
“You have no choice, baby. This is not a negotiation. I tell you where to go and what to do.” His hand tightens around my neck as he speaks.
“Now strip.”
My body moves before my brain registers what he said. I was naked in under ten seconds.
“Bed. Now.” He looks different. Not the devious smile that he flashes to intimidate his opponents or the devilish smirk he gives me when he tells me to get on my knees for him. This is different. More menacing.
I crawl onto the bed and lie down on my back. The cool leather makes me shiver before my skin adapts.
“Hands and knees.”
I comply, spreading my thighs because I expect him to fuck me. He does not.
I hear rustling behind me and the jingle of a belt buckle.
“It's been a minute since you've had a flogging. It seems like you've forgotten your place.”
"I'm sorry, Marty. I didn't mean to disrespect you."
Disrespect. The greatest sin anyone could commit against him. Something as simple as the wrong look could be considered disrespect to Marty.
“I know, baby. But I need to make sure that you never forget. If you're gonna be my girl, I need you to be more submissive. I need my girl to do whatever I say whenever I say it.”
“But I always do as you say...” I whimper, dreading what comes next.
“Not everything. You've questioned me twice today over the same issue!” His voice gets more forceful. “You know I don't like that.” I feel his palms on my ass cheeks rubbing in what feels like oil.
“Marty...” He smacks me hard and I yelp.
“From now on, I need you to call me Sir and nothing else. Say it.” He accentuates his last words with a slash of his belt across my thighs. The pain is sharp and unexpected, and I yelp, burying my face into the leather bed.
“Yes…Sir…” Tears prick my eyes despite my efforts to stay calm.
“Again.” Another slash on my thighs and my muscles start to spasm.
“Yes, Sir,” I say with much more effort.
“Louder!” Slash.
“Yes, Sir!” I sob into the bed, my tears falling into the creases of the tufting. I can hear him breathing heavily. He drops the belt and reaches for a whip from the left wall.
“Two dozen lashes for the two times that you disrespected me today.”
“No! Please, Mar–Sir! Please don’t! I promise I won’t–”
Slash. I feel the whip come down on the soles of my feet.
Pain radiates from the tips of my toes to top of my head making me dizzy.
“Count!”
“One…” I whisper, barely hanging on. The whip comes down again, this time on my ass cheeks. “Two… Three… Four…”
By the time he gets to six I’m floating on a high of pain and endorphins.
“Seven… Eight… Nine…” My breaths are ragged and my skin feels like it’s on fire. I’m sweating even though the temperature in the room is damn near freezing.
“Ten… Eleven… Twelve…” I can barely breathe, hoping for sort of guardian angel to redeem me. In times like these, I cry out to the spirits of my mother and father, even though I know that they aren’t there.
“Thirteen… Fourteen… Fifteen…” I’m sinking slowly into that part of my mind, my oasis for times like these.
“Sixteen… Seventeen… Eighteen…” I think of my Gran and her buttermilk cookies. Every Saturday morning, we baked together after breakfast. It was always my favourite time of the week because she played music and we sang and danced together. The whole house smelled like love and comfort.
“Nineteen… Twenty… Twenty-one…” I think of my Pops who took me camping. I hated it, of course. There were too many bugs. But as the night fell, the fireflies came out to dance and Pops and I danced with them. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
“Twenty-two… Twenty-three… Twenty-four…” I think of all that I have lost because this man took me from my family. I think about all of it and let it consume me. I sink into the despair that swallows me whole and tears me into a million pieces. I disappear into my mind.
When I regain consciousness, I feel Marty’s hands rubbing ointment on me. He always does this. He’d abuse me first and then take care of me. The ointment is cooling but my skin still burns. I’m not bleeding though, because Marty doesn’t like to break my skin. He prefers bruises to cuts.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” I hear him say after he’s done putting the ointment on me.
“I like you like this. Quiet and submissive. Just like my girl should be. So willing and ready for my dick.” He rubs my clit and dips his finger into my vulva.
My body has responded the way it was trained to.
I am wet and dripping for him even though he just assaulted me.
My mind is reeling, overwhelmed with dark thoughts.
Just as I’m about to sink into the abyss again, he enters me forcefully and sinks all the way to the hilt.
I buck against him in pain, scrambling to find something to grab onto, but the leather bed is free of pillows or any other materials.
I scream but the sound reverberates off the walls and returns to me like a rejection of my plea.
“Good girl. Sweet girl. My lovely prize. My trophy.” He fucks me rough.
Slamming into me over and over with his thighs slapping against the tender flesh of my thighs and cheeks.
He sinks deeper and deeper, hitting my cervix in the most tormenting way that I haven’t felt since the first day he fucked me.