20. Maricela
I knew this day would come. I should have been ready for him. After all, the man in front of me has no defeatist quality. He looks at me with hunger, full of desire to eat me whole.
I know him. In contrast to me, he needs violence to live and thrive. No matter what challenge has been put before him or will be put before him in the future, the man who looks at me now will never give up. And I know I will break now. I will do everything in my power to last, but I will break.
He memorized the letter I left him. Serena insisted I write him a letter. She said he had to believe I was leaving him willingly.
She was wrong. It made no difference to a man like him. The man scanning every inch of my body wouldn’t give up on me, even if I didn’t return.
I try not to look at him, but every time I do, I see the city, the endless line of taxicabs, the sidewalks filled with people in a hurry, and only I am tied up, on a fucking cross no less, trying to stay strong.
For what? Why? I thought I knew. I am not so sure anymore.
Every day when I was in the darkest places in the world, I knew he might discover the truth and appear in front of me someday.
I knew this day would come, but life has been cruel. His chance to find me was taken from him. I came back voluntarily. It wasn’t for him.
How it must have hurt him to see me sitting in the hospital, singing to his niece as if I hadn’t disappeared. How much anger has he accumulated in these weeks since I returned?
“So, which do you choose?”
I refuse to grant him an answer, knowing it will infuriate him. The little girl in me wants him to break me. I can almost feel her hope living inside me. She expected me to crack before him each and every time I entered this office.
Each and every time, her hunger for satisfaction grew. She urged me to beg him for my release and to utter his name. They both ended up disappointed.
Today, she and any lesser kind voice are quiet. It’s weird because the voices in my head have always been there. At some point, I thought I was losing my mind until they put the well-known label of “ADHD” on me.
These voices prompted me to act, or alternately, to do nothing and to sit and stare out the window. But I never considered what would happen when I lost them all.
I don’t hear them.
The destructive voice that demanded I finish everything every night before I closed my eyes is silent.
The malicious voice that begged me to take revenge is also hiding.
But the voice I miss the most is more innocent, full of hope. A na?ve voice that wanted me to be happy.
That voice weakened over the years until it eventually disappeared.
Despite that, I never thought about this loss because other voices always accompanied me. Voices telling me what to do, how to feel.
But now that I don’t have any prompting from my head about what I should do, I feel hollow, as if I’ve been left alone in this war.
“I understand. You choose the hard way,” he says and whips my lower abdomen with the belt. The pain is sharp and strong and reminds me I’m alive.
Fucking here, with him.
Every morning for the past few weeks, I’ve awakened with the knowledge that I would walk into this office and feel pain, a desire that would not be satisfied. It was my greatest comfort, and now he wants to take it away. He wants me to talk. He wants me to break him.
“I searched for you.”
His voice is distant, even though his eyes are fixed on mine. Despite my temptation, I resist closing them again. I’m tired of running away.
“I looked for you. Each day, I would go to the dream house. I asked Serena where you could be, but she didn’t seem at all worried. She looked for you, too, but every night, she said that she always knew you would leave one day. That the whole world is too small for you.”
Serena’s lies don’t surprise me. She used what I told her to make him stop looking.
“I didn’t stop,” he continues.
“I followed Maverick, Raven and every friend and acquaintance of yours, but everyone went on with their lives as if you had never played a central part in them. I punished Lila in every way possible. By threatening her parents, I persuaded them to give her to me. Four years I lived in the shadows, four years in which I killed more people than I had killed in my entire life for Franco.” I wince.
“And now you’re here, standing in front of me. Making me smell you, feel you, hurt you. Your body is here, but your soul still hasn’t returned from where it fled four years ago.”
He whips me again. This time, the belt hits my breasts, and the pain spreads and has my sensitive area standing up.
“Please,” I’m begging.
I don’t know what I want from him, but I need him to know that he already has his answers.
“I won’t stop. We’re going to play a game, my little girl. My mysterious ghost.”
I look at him. I take the time to observe every tiny detail about him. His anger is here, hatred too, but underneath it all, I can almost sense the tiniest of something akin to relief.
If I just had the camera that I hid in my room next to the albums I always carry, I would take a picture of him. I would capture the angry god he’s become.
“I’m going to punish you, and then I’m going to fuck you until you come over and over and over again. When my dick can’t do anything for you anymore, I’ll get another friend to help.”
He moves away from me, his every step slow and calculated like a panther in the wild. He opens one of his drawers, only to pull out an enormous dildo. The dildo is pink and... Is it shaped like a banana? I grin. He’s still a cabron. He will fuck me with a huge pink banana.
“I think this shade of pink will complement your sweet pink cunt,” he says, the asshole.
“Let’s get started.” He places the dildo on the table and whips me from where he stands. The distance makes the blow stronger and sharper. “Let’s start easy.”
He whips me again. My legs try to avoid the bite of the leather, but I’m not fast enough.
“Don’t move.”
“Then tie my legs.”
I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s desperate.He kneels before me and ties my legs to the cross individually.
“For every truth you tell me, I will compensate you. For every lie, I will punish you. Let’s start with your sister. Did she know where you were?” he asks, still kneeling before me.
That’s an easy question for me to answer. Serena didn’t know anything about me after I left that house.
“She didn’t know. I didn’t interest her enough. She was busy with Connie.”
He licks my inner thigh, right where the belt hit. It’s tantalizing how he can be so harsh one moment and so gentle the next.
“But she knew you were going to leave?”
Mierda, shit, shit.
“Answer me, Maricela.”
“Yes, she knew. She was there when I made the decision.”
He bites the spot he licked a moment ago, causing my pussy to throb. I’m so wet, it’s no surprise.
I’ve been wet for weeks. For him, because of him.
“Had you been in touch with her?”
This is another piece of information I can provide.
“No. She wanted nothing to do with me.”
“You fought?” I don’t answer that, and he whips me.
“Answer me, and it will be much simpler.”
“You could say that.” What do you call the revelation of your sister’s hatred?
“Are you mad at me?”
I don’t expect this question. What right do I have to be angry with him after everything I’ve done?
“Answer me, Little Girl.” He sounds desperate, still between my legs.
“I’m not mad at you. Maybe I was in the past, but not anymore. You hurt me because you had no choice. I can see that now.”
He kisses my pussy through my wet panties. The kiss is soft. His tongue touches the thin fabric, drawing something between my legs.
The sounds that escape me are animalistic. I gave him much more than I thought I could, but he wants more.
He wants it all.
He continues to kiss the sensitive spot between my legs gently, reverently.
“I missed your scent,” he whispers so softly I almost don’t hear him as he removes my underwear.
I anticipate he will continue to please me, but instead, he stands and whips me between my legs.
The pain causes another wave of wetness to collect there. Tears fall from my eyes, and I can’t stop them. I don’t want to stop them. He continues, smacking me again and again and again.
“Please... Please...” I beg for him to continue, for him to stop.
“Say my name.” And here it is. Him asking me what I can’t give.
“Please... Please...” I say over and over, like a mantra. He ignores me.
The bite of the belt on the throbbing place between my legs has me crying harder. Begging harder.
“Say my name.” I can taste the salt of my tears. I don’t think I’ve cried like this ever in my life.
“Say my name, Maricela. What’s my name? What is the name of the man who hurt you, of the man who took everything from you, of the man you left without air for four damn years?”
I shake my head, whipping it side to side as he continues to lash me until he’s had enough.
Just when I think he’s giving in, he penetrates me in one stroke. I didn’t even notice when he took off his pants.
Despite the wetness between my legs, I feel his size. His piercing aims straight for my G spot and hits it again and again, and fucking again.
“My— Oh— I’m coming... I can’t stop.”
“This is just the beginning. Come for me, Little Girl. You’re mine. You will always be mine. No matter what you do or where in the world you run. You belong to me. Your body, your soul.”
He’s angry. Fucking fuming.
My legs and wrists pull on the straps. I want to wrap my arms around him, bury my fingers in his hair, and touch him. To do something as he moves inside me mercilessly, every thrust stronger than the last.
Instead, I look down at the city, as his every movement gives me a sense of flying. I’m fucking flying.
“Please...” I beg without knowing for what.
“My name, Maricela.”
He presses his chest to mine, the touch of his shirt on my breasts making me even slicker.
“Fuck. You’re mine. So fucking mine,” he whispers into my neck, and I uncontrollably bite his shoulder through his white shirt, trying to leave some mark on him.
“What’s my name, Maricela?”
The rage inside him comes out with every stroke as he continues to fuck me, taking away the little sanity I have left.
“Please... please...” I say over and over.
I cry, scream, and beg, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t give up. With my every plea, he pounds into me harder.
“What’s my name, Maricela?”
My orgasm overtakes me, and I come and come and come, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps hitting the same spot over and over.
Again, he demands I say his name. My body twists, and if I wasn’t tied, if he wasn’t holding me with such strength, I know I would fall to the floor. My organs hurt. But he keeps fucking me.
Again, and again and again, into oblivion. A drop of sweat falls from his hairline into his eye.
“I can’t take it anymore. Please...” I try again, but he still doesn’t stop.
“What’s my name, Maricela?” He searches with one of his hands for my clit, rubs, touches, and presses. I know I will come again. “Maricela, what’s my fucking name?”
The first letter of his name is on the tip of my tongue, and all the voices in my head are waking up. Tell him, give him what he wants. If you fall, he’ll pick you up. He is the only one who can.
“K....” I try, and he pounds into me harder, deeper.
“You can say it, my strong, wild girl. You can. What’s my name?”
My sobs are loud, so loud I’m sure the entire building can hear us, can hear me. Another orgasm envelops my whole body, and I shrink against him. He moans into me but doesn’t finish. He continues to fuck me, taking all his anger out on me.
“What is my name?”
“Kil...” I try again without success.
“What is my name?”
He hits a spot that has me seeing colors, all the colors I refused to see for four fucking years. Blues and greens, and reds, all the shades of red I ignored for so long. It hurts so much, so fucking much, I tremble. Just to see a plane going up and up into the sky, I go with it, surrendering myself to him.
“Killian!”
I shout loud enough for every person in the building to hear. I’m sure they did. I don’t know how long we’ve been in his office, but everyone must have returned from their lunch break by now.
“Repeat it!” he demands and continues to fuck me.
“Killian, Killian, Killian,” I say like a prayer.
His name on my tongue is like the sweetest poison. He stops moving inside me, and a moment later, I feel the heat between my legs. His cum fills me.
“Killian, Killian, Killian.” I continue, and he kisses me, swallowing his name in his mouth.
Just as his name suggests, Killian is a worrier, the protector of the people he cherishes.
I don’t know how long we stand like that before he once again begins to move inside me, his strokes slow, his kisses gentle now as he caresses my hair and my breasts through the bra he never bothered to remove.
Every touch hurts. Every touch confirms that I’m still alive.
I’m alive, and I’m with him.
I’m by his side, and he will never let me go.