Chapter 11
“Stop!” I shout as much as I can around the gag. I’m damn sure the word isn’t very clear.
I can’t take it anymore. I can’t. My entire body is bruised and aching. It’s impossible to keep myself upright. My knees keep giving out, which makes the pillory pull at my neck and my wrists to the point that I feel like I’m suffocating.
The laugh is back, that sadistic and amused laugh that will forever live in my head after this. I’ll never be able to escape it.
“Stop!” I try again, but this time it’s even more pathetic than the first time.
The slap against the backs of my thighs is hard. The solid material ripples pain up into my ass that still feels like it’s leaking and into my back. I whimper from the pain, knowing that my entire body is likely to be black and blue after this.
“Shut up,” they say, that mechanical voice becoming a curse more than the caress it once was.
God, I’d love for my enchantment with this entire situation to come back, but they shattered it five minutes ago by calling out everything I didn’t want to admit.
I’m a cheater, and a slut, and my desires are so disgusting that no one’s going to want me after this.
If Reik finds out, our marriage is over.
Add on top of that, I’m fat and can’t lose weight to save my life.
Trust me, I’ve tried. And Reik uses that as an excuse every time to turn me down when I try to turn him on.
Pain ricochets through the backs of my thighs again. “You don’t get to choose when this is done. Remember?”
I do remember. I’d given them free rein over my body for one day.
And I have no control, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try.
I shift my feet together and try to scoot away from where I think they’re standing, to avoid the pain that I know is coming.
Because they’re not done beating me yet.
If anything, the last few hours have proven that they’ll beat me until I pass out from pain.
“I don’t know why you’re shy now. I’ve already fucked you twice.”
Because I don’t deserve it.
It’s that simple. I thought I did, for a brief second, I thought that I could have everything I’ve wanted because I do deserve it as a human being and as a woman, but I was wrong.
And this just proves it. I won’t ever be good enough.
I can barely make it through this, and I’m sure the only reason I have right now is because of this fucking gag in my mouth so I can’t make them stop.
“Bitch.” A slap to my ass. “Stop moving.”
I cry silent tears, shifting to try and make the landing of the paddle in an easier spot that won’t hurt as much, but it’s not working. No matter where I go, they find me. The paddle drops to the floor, clunking as it falls. I sigh in relief.
“I’ll make you stop.”
What’s that mean? Fuck, why didn’t I realize they’d have an alternative?
I’m the one who’s not prepared for this.
I’m the one coming in and not knowing what’s going on, the one here to take the risk of being completely out of control of everything.
Of course there’d be an alternative. Straps slide around my ankles, tightening into place and digging into my skin.
They spread my legs apart with one boot and then the other.
Before I know it, they’re locked in place.
Chains rattle against the cement, but I can’t move my feet more than a few inches.
The paddling starts again, this time without anything being held back. Slap after slap after slap. My head reels from the pain, spinning as if I’m going to die any second now, or maybe just black out and wake up to it again. But then it stops.
Fingers slide into my pussy, pushing inside and against the still vibrating egg.
I thought it had stopped. I thought… I groan, my breath catching in my throat.
Instead of pulling away, I push into the fingers, vying for more, deeper thrusts, anything that will make whatever that feeling was happen again.
“See? I knew you’d like it, slut.”
Then the fingers are gone. The paddling starts again, and all I can think about is those leather-clad fingers inside me, pushing into me, the pressure and the fullness they create.
And without even trying, my body is already working its way back up toward a pinnacle of orgasm that I can’t escape. I’ll never be able to escape this.
I pull at the pillory, tugging and twisting where my wrists are to try and get out. I just need to see who took me. I need to know what’s going to happen next, to know what I’m going to feel. My heart races as I try my damnedest to break the hold the restraints have on me.
Because I need to escape.
I need to get away.
The fingers are back inside me, pulsing and pushing in deeper. I groan, pushing into the pillory at the onslaught, the change in pace and sensations move from pain to pleasure. I just can’t get a grasp on what’s happening. I can’t escape this.
I asked for it.
“Fight me, slut, and I’ll win. Every time.”