2
Two weeks prior.
Rough carpeted fibers are like sandpaper against my flesh with each bristled movement.
My skin prickles with awareness. A hardened body anchors me against the floor.
Or maybe I'm somewhere else entirely. With the amount of drugs in my system, it's entirely plausible.
My insides are a raging inferno. A stark contrast to the icy chill against my exposed skin.
A dark haze carries me between consciousness and the astringent reality leaving me somnolent.
A sharp pain pulls me from my vitiated fog.
My eyes drift open—blurry and unfocused.
I'm met only with a soft glow from under the door .
. . and him. My beast. Shrouded in the shadows.
A specious beast who drew me in with his predatory charm and manipulative smile.
I try to force myself up. My body feels like a weight, heavy and ladened.
A sharp ache stings inside my pussy. I let out an asphyxiating cry.
The pain registers, and my pink nails claw at the stained carpet.
I shift my weight in an effort to escape.
The heel of my beast's palm forces my cheek harder against the carpet, stopping me.
Something doesn't feel right. I'm drifting back into a catatonic state, and I can't control it. Tears prick my eyes. Not again . . .
The sting of his free hand against my ass makes me howl, giving me renewed vigor. He quickly wraps his hand over my mouth.
I sob. My tears bead into his palm. His hips hammer faster into me.
A desperate cry escapes my lips. I salivate into the beast's hand.
Before I can register what's happening he flips me over, releasing my mouth.
His hands shackle my wrists. His hips keep me pinned.
A wolfish twist falls over his lips, visible through his hellhound mask.
He lifts the mask enough to lick my tears. His damp curls tickle my cheek.
He pistons into me deeper. Harder. My body shakes from the concoction of drugs he gave me. A broken, vacant expression fills the slit through the mask. Deep flecks of green hold secrets of his own. His pupils are blown out. He, too, is high.
I ignore the throbbing ache between my legs. Painful memories I wish I could erase replays in the forefront of my mind. I was doing so good. I have no one else to blame for my self-inflicted destruction but myself. I willingly came upstairs with the voracious beast.
His hold on my wrists is bruising. He grunts in frustration, ditching the mask entirely. His teeth graze over my breast. Instead of nipping, he clamps down hard along the tender flesh.
Blood pools against my milky skin. Angry red marks immediately blotch on the surface.
A deep rumble of satisfaction leaves deep within his chest.
He laps at my blood. He turns frenzied. Sweat drips down his washboard abs onto my stomach.
Each thrust is more punishing than the last.
His control is slipping and I'm on the receiving end.
His one hand winds around my wrist. His other around my throat.
He cuts off my air supply. Stars blur my vision.
Panic sets in. He's going to kill me. Is this what I deserve for living this life?
I desperately try to break free. He grips my throat harder.
My breaths turn shallow before I'm met with darkness.
***
“Wakey wakey,” a sinister voice pierces through the silence. The voice is muffled, as if underwater. I blink a few times. My eyes flutter open. The hellish beast slips his mask back over his face. It takes me a moment to process where I am again. My mind is jumbled and fuzzy. How long was I out?
“There she is.” He cocks his head, dissecting me through his mask. “I finished in that mouth instead when you passed out. I watched it drip down your plump lips and onto those tits.”
I lick my lips instinctively. I, so used to being used, don't flinch at his crass admission.
As much as I wanted to leave this life behind, this is a stark reminder I'll never escape it.
His viridian eyes light up, waking the beast within.
Despite his confession, my mouth is still as dry as cotton.
From the drugs no doubt. I stanch the fear rippling through me.
The effects still linger. He administered such a heavy dose even I, a causal drug user, still feel it.
“I'm gonna play with you a bit.”
My heart rate picks up. It's then I realize my limbs are tied to his bed posts. I tug at my restraints just to be met with resistance. A knitted look of pure confusion masks my internal terror. This guy is a predator. A joker in a deck of cards. The definition of a wild card.
He throws his head back and releases a supercilious wheeze. “You—you think I'm done with you? No, no, not yet. I want to hurt you first. Man, you ladies look delightful when panic falls over your harrowed faces.”
The air turns stagnant. Something foreboding fills the air. A warning. Pure consternation fills me. The hammering thump from my heart is so loud I think he can hear it. My skin breaks out in a sweat.
I still when he drops his ear against my chest cavity.
His fingers dance along my ribs to the beat of his words. “Thump, thump, thump.” he lets out a charred susurrus against my sore, bare skin. A sibilant threat.
Keep it together, Clara.
He makes my body jolt when he wrenches back, fishing for something on his dresser I can't see. I take the opportunity to scan over his features. The same ones that led me down this path, into his waiting arms. I have a bad habit of landing in bed with the bad ones. Something appealing calls me.
His jeans are hanging carelessly on his hips, undone.
Probably from fucking me senseless. I shake my head to cure the blur that still hazes my vision.
The drugs are still commandeering my system.
His T-shirt is still plastered on his body like a second skin, only now it's coated in sweat.
He turns around holding a whip in his hand.
A pliable leather with multiple tails. His curls fall over the top of his mask.
His chest rises and falls in anticipation.
“Break for me, Nightshade.”