CHAPTER SIX #3
My phone buzzes again, and I force myself to read it.
I want to hear it, Little Spider. Put your hand down your pants and tell me how wet you are. Be a good girl. I know you can.
Tears sting my eyes, but I can’t stop the way my body pulses with heat, the way my hand creeps lower despite every part of me screaming to stop.
Or would you rather I do it? Would you rather feel my hand slip under your waistband, fingers spreading you open, feeling how soaked you are? Would you try to push me away, or would you spread your legs wider for me, begging me to make you forget everything else?
I can’t breathe. My fingers slide under the waistband of my sweatpants, and I hate how wet I am, how the fear and desire have tangled together, suffocating me.
Another knock. This one softer, like a caress.
Let me in, Raven. I’ll make it better. I’ll make it hurt in just the right way. You don’t have to think—just let me take control. Let me make you mine.
My thumb circles my clit, slow and shaky, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to muffle the whimper that slips out. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be reacting like this. But his words feel like they’re crawling inside me, twisting through my veins, making me ache.
My phone buzzes again. Another voice message. I press play, the sound almost crackling in the silence.
“That’s it. I can almost hear you. I know you’re touching yourself.
You can’t help it, can you? You need me to make it real.
Open the door, and I’ll show you what it’s like to be fucked by someone who’s obsessed with you.
I’ll pin you down, make you scream, and when you’re too tired to fight, I’ll whisper in your ear how pretty you look when you’re ruined. ”
My legs twitch, and I bite down harder on my lip, fingers moving faster, desperate and frantic. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. My body is a traitor, responding to his words even as my mind screams that this is wrong.
The phone buzzes again.
Say it. Say you want me. Say you’ll let me in. I’ll make you feel everything, Little Spider. You’ll want no one else again.
A moan slips out before I can stop it, and I bite down harder to stifle it, thighs squeezing around my hand. I can’t do this. I can’t let him win.
You’re going to cum thinking about me, aren’t you? Even though you’re scared, even though you hate yourself for it. You’re imagining me forcing your legs apart, holding you down, making you take it. You’re mine, Raven. You just haven’t accepted it yet.
I curl forwards, choking on a sob as my body pulses, my fingers move faster, shame coats my fingers, his voice slides down my spine, pushing me closer to the edge—the release crashing through me before I can stop it.
I can’t stop shaking, shame flooding through me, and I drop the phone, burying my face in my hands.
A final message pings through. I force myself to look.
Good girl. Next time, I’ll make you say my name.
I can’t stop the tears now, streaming down my face as I curl into a ball, his words sinking into my skin like a brand. I hate him. I hate he knows exactly how to break me.
And most of all, I hate that some part of me wanted it.
The shame crashes over me, waves dragging me under, and I can’t breathe. I curl tighter into myself, hands shaking, the phone abandoned on the floor. I want to scream, to claw the feeling out of my skin, to burn away the way his words made me come undone.
My legs continue to shake, and the warmth remains as the remorse creeps in, overwhelming me. I press my forehead against my knees, biting down hard on my lip to keep from sobbing.
A soft vibration from the phone. I don’t want to look. I don’t want to see his words, hear his voice, feel that twisted pleasure all over again. But I can’t stop myself. I pick it up, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand.
You’re quiet now. Are you ashamed, Little Spider? You shouldn’t be. You gave me exactly what I wanted. You couldn’t help yourself. That’s what makes you mine.
I choke back a sob, forcing myself to type.
You’re wrong. I hate you.
His response is immediate.
If you hated me, you wouldn’t have let go like that. You wouldn’t have cum just from my voice. You’re starting to understand, aren’t you? You’re meant to be mine.
Another message. A voice note. I hesitate, fear gnawing at me, but I hit play.
His voice, calm, dripping with satisfaction:
“I should punish you for trying to deny it. For pretending you don’t crave the way I make you feel.
You should be on your knees for me right now, head bowed, thanking me for making you cum.
I could make it hurt, just enough to remind you who’s in control.
You’d cry, but you’d beg for more, wouldn’t you? ”
My heart slams against my ribs, and I can’t stop the way my body responds—a fresh wave of heat pooling low, even as my mind screams that this is wrong.
“If I was there right now, I’d pull you onto my lap, force you to straddle me, pin your wrists behind your back.
I’d take my time, make you grind against me until you’re desperate, until you’re begging me to put it inside.
You’d whimper, wouldn’t you? Try to act like you hate it, but your body would give you away. ”
A whimper slips from my mouth, and I hate myself for it. My body betrays me, every word from him sinking deeper, pushing buttons I didn’t know I had.
Another voice message. I can’t help myself—I press play, throat tight.
“Maybe I’d pull your hair, make you look at me while I slide my hand down your throat, just to feel your pulse pounding under my palm.
You’d try to fight it, but I’d pin you down, force your legs open.
You’d cry out, but it wouldn’t stop me. I’d whisper how pretty you look when you’re scared, how tight you are when you’re trembling.
You’d hate yourself for giving in, but I’d make you admit how much you love it. ”
My thighs clench, and I can’t breathe. I drop the phone, covering my mouth, choking on the sob that tears free.
A loud knock on the door jolts me upright. I freeze, my whole body rigid, heart hammering like it’s trying to break free.
My phone buzzes again. Another text.
Open the door. You’ve earned your reward.
My stomach twists, fear and a sick, twisted anticipation fighting for control. I push myself to my feet, legs unsteady, and approach the door, fingers hovering over the lock.
Another knock—harder this time. My phone buzzes.
You’re not running anymore, are you? You’re finally ready to admit it. Let me in, Little Spider. Let me finish what you started.
I swallow, my hand trembling as I grip the lock. I can’t open it. I shouldn’t. But I can feel him through the door, his presence like a weight pressing against me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to breathe, trying to gather some scrap of resistance. But the way my body aches, the way my skin prickles with need—it’s like his words have wrapped around me and squeezed all the fight out.
My phone buzzes again.
You’re mine, Raven. You know it. Stop pretending. Open the door, and I’ll make you feel every inch.
My hand moves on its own, fingers tracing the edge of the lock. I can’t do this. I can’t just give in. But I’m so tired—tired of fighting the way he makes me feel, tired of pretending I don’t want to know what it would be like to let him take control.
If I have to break in, I’ll take my time punishing you for making me wait. Is that what you want? To be forced? Or would you rather choose to give in? You decide.
A sob rips from my throat, and I feel my knees buckle. I press my forehead against the door, the cool wood grounding me, but my hands won’t stop shaking.
One last message.
Say it. Say you want me. You’ve come this far, Little Spider. You don’t get to back out now. You don’t get to pretend you’re innocent. You’re mine. Let me in.
My hand grips the lock, knuckles white, and I know I’m on the verge of breaking. I want to push him away, tell him he’s wrong, but my body betrays me—ache settling between my thighs, skin flushed and sensitive.
I can hear his breathing through the door—steady, calm, waiting.
My phone buzzes one more time.
Open it. Be good for me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, biting down hard on my lip until I taste blood. I shouldn’t. I can’t.
But my fingers move, twisting the lock, the click echoing through the room like a gunshot. I step back, breath caught in my throat, waiting for the door to swing open, for him to finally step inside.
But it doesn’t move.
Silence.
Then his voice, just on the other side, low and rough.
“That’s it, Little Spider. You’re learning. I’ll make you feel everything. I’ll make you remember who you belong to.”
I choke on a sob, half terror, half something darker—something I can’t name but can’t fight.
And I know, as the door slowly creaks open, that I’ve lost.
Because some part of me never wanted to win.