15 Olivia
May 11th, 2022
The door wasn’t locked when I got home, causing me only a moment’s pause when Lucy started growling under her breath.
I closed my eyes for a moment, hand on the doorknob, trying to prepare myself for whatever was about to happen. I had my fresh air, a moment of uncomfortableness with that girl who was asking about a club with no name and an old bar, but I was fine now.
That girl had hit a nerve with me, but other than that, it just seemed like she just had a dick boyfriend too.
Now I had to deal with mine.
I really, truly needed to leave him. I had to leave him. I couldn’t keep doing this anymore, I was tired. Exhausted. I just needed to leave. Fuck, why couldn’t I leave?
I inhaled deeply and pushed open the door, finding Steven at the island going through my purse.
I didn’t even have it in me to feel angry or irritated, I just felt tired. “What are you doing?”
I asked, my shoulders falling.
“Getting some money. You got paid Thursday, you owe me.”
I unclipped Lucy’s collar, scratching her head before straightening. I forgot that I ‘got paid’ every other Thursday. It was how I set it up when I got that job at the café, but since I hadn’t been working there for months, I had forgotten.
But Steven didn’t know I had quit that job yet. He forgot everything else though. Anniversaries, planned dates, birthdays, but my paycheck schedule? God forbid he ever forgot that.
I set my keys and bag on the counter. “I don’t have much after I paid bills.”
He sighed and shoved my bag away. “Can I borrow some money?”
he asked, either not hearing me or not caring.
I searched his eyes a few seconds before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll pull some off my card this afternoon,”
I told him, turning for the sink. I was exhausted and embarrassed. I had been at the park for three hours.
Three hours, and I wrote maybe 700 words. That proved exactly why I was there. Exactly what my goal had been, and I hated it.
What was wrong with me?
I went to the park to wait for a guy who, to rational people, had sexually assaulted me not once, but three times. And he tortured me!
And yet there I was, waiting for him. All because I wanted to feel that thing again. The warmth and electricity and all around aliveness that he had made me feel.
But God, I liked it. I liked what he had done. I liked that he owned that part of me. That he felt like he had some sort of claim over it. I liked that this was all just a game, that I was being used to pay a debt, like I was being punished for choosing a shitty ass guy to date. I liked that he overpowered me and stole something from me. And I wanted him to do it again.
And again.
And again.
And I hated him for it all the same. He made me so fucking angry too. He made me want to punch him in the face. Right in the nose. He made me want to kick him right in the fucking balls.
He made me curse over and over again. Something I had never really done until he showed up on my doorstep.
I turned on the water and ran it over my hands, feeling the tension in my body as I focused on where Steven was in the apartment. My body always knew where he was. Some sort of survival tactic or something, I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that when he was around, I could never know peace.
I deserved to be punished for this.
I had earned it.
“Baby,”
he whispered, his hand sliding around my waist.
I closed my eyes and shut off the water. Great.
“I’m sorry about earlier.”
Earlier when he slapped me for talking back to him. We had had dinner plans tonight, and he told me that I never told him. But I had. I knew I had because I had sent it in a text message a week ago just in case he forgot. Proof that I had told him.
It never reached his phone, according to him. He got angry that I didn’t tell him face to face, which I did, but after him yelling at me, I wasn’t so sure.
Had I told him? My memory was so bad these days. I couldn’t tell the difference between fiction and reality anymore, so he was probably right. I had, after all, taken Lucy to that park because he slapped me. Because he made me feel crazy. I had gone, not just because I was addicted, but because I was angry, and I wanted—needed a fight.
“You just know how to press all the right buttons sometimes,”
he went on, sliding his other hand around my waist, the front of his body pressing into the back of mine. “You know how you get.”
Irrational, reckless, crazy? Yeah, I was highly aware of that.
“Just worked up sometimes. Hyphy. It’s okay, I know you’ve been working on it. I just wish you wouldn’t argue with me so much. I work so hard every day just for us, and I hate that you always do stuff like that to make things worse.”
He hooked his chin over my shoulder and tightened his arms around my waist as I gripped the counter, my nails digging into the granite, my hands dripping wet.
I worked my jaw and shook my head. “Steven, I’m really not in the mood right now.”
I was exhausted and, at the moment, dealing with a stream of internal monologue, most of which was telling me how much of a whore I was for wanting the masked man to show up at the park today, I couldn’t deal with this right now. I could handle the conversations, the fighting, but not this. I did not want to get naked and give him what he wanted. Not now.
His hands tightened into my stomach. “I can get you in the mood, baby, please?”
he whispered, turning his face into my neck, kissing it softly just above where the scarf covered the collar. “Just a little, I’ll be quick.”
He always was, but it wasn’t about how fast it was, I just didn’t want to do it.
I shook my head and used my arms to push him back enough to turn around. “No, Steven,”
I tried, placing my hands on his chest, finding his wheat-colored eyes. “Please, I’m exhausted, I just want to take a nap.”
He leaned in, easing up my dress. “It’ll be quick, I promise,”
he pushed.
I caught his wrists, trying to hold them in place, my heart picking up. “No,”
I told him. “Not now, please.”
I didn’t want this. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to take a bath. I wanted to drink a glass of wine and watch trash television for the rest of the day, but this? I didn’t want this.
His eyes changed then. “I’ve had a long day, and I just want to let off some steam. You’re my girlfriend, Olivia, you owe me this. You owe it to me.”
He forced his hands down again, breaking away from mine, and hoisted my skirt up. “Think of it as an apology for this morning.”
I didn’t have a choice. I never had a choice.
If I just let him do this, it’d be over with, and I could have my self-pitying evening.
I softened my grip and leaned back against the counter. “Fine,”
I said on a breath, resigning myself.
He smiled, leaned in, and started kissing my neck. I rested my arms around his shoulders and jumped up, sliding back onto the edge of the sink and letting him step between my legs.
I found Lucy’s eyes from across the room as he shoved my underwear to the side and kept kissing my neck, his other hand squeezing my breast.
“Attack,”
I wanted to say as she watched us with her ears back. “Attack, attack, attack, attack, attack,”
I willed her to hear me. “Just kill him. Bite his balls off. Do something.”
But she just watched us, pissed off, and ready for any command that I gave her.
But I wouldn’t.
Why?
Because I was a pathetic whore who couldn’t just tell him that I wanted this to end. That I didn’t want to be with him anymore. That I was done.
He slid his cock inside of me painfully because I was as dry as a bone, and began pumping in and out of me, slow at first, and then harder. Quick, short jabs.
I felt nothing outside the slice of pain. Nothing at all. Just a horrible numbness, so I let my mind drift. Drift to the books I was writing, to the chapters I had to turn in to Katie soon, to anything and everything but what was happening in that very second.
It took less than 45 seconds for him to finish.
He fell over me, panting into my ear as if he had just run a marathon.
Moments passed before he finally pushed back, pulling out of me.
I quickly closed my legs and hopped down before fixing my dress.
“Thanks, baby,”
he cooed, kissing my cheek. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later. Got big things coming up for both of us.”
My brows furrowed. “Big things?”
I asked, wanting nothing more than to take a long shower. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s a surprise,”
he smiled. “See you later.”
With that, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door.
I frowned after him. As soon as the door shut behind him, I headed for my bedroom. “I don’t know what ‘big things’ he has planned with no money,”
I told Lucy as she followed me. “But I swear to God, if it has anything to do with that club, I’m going to lose it.”
I gathered my things and headed for the bathroom. “Guard,”
I told Lucy, although I had my doubts that he would come back.
I needed to get some confidence. I needed to leave. Even if I didn’t actually break up with him, I could just leave. Move. Disappear from his life. It wasn’t like he had the money to find me, and even if he did, would he bother? He hated me, he had to hate me, right? With how he treated me, he had to of hated me as much as I hated me, so why not just run?
Why not just run.
May 14th, 2022
I straightened out the papers in my hand and glanced around the living room again. Beautiful and bright, but not as open as I would have liked.
“So,”
the realtor, Anne, beamed, “how are you liking it so far?”
I shrugged, turning back to the oak table she had filled with cookies, papers, and drinks for whoever wanted to come to the open house. “It’s nice.”
Her smile instantly faltered. “Oh, you don’t like it.”
“No, I do,”
I said quickly. “I do, it’s just…”
I gestured around us to the closed off space, the dining room and living room were one, the kitchen had a door, the halls were narrow. I winced, turning back to her. I felt horrible. I shouldn’t have been this picky. I was trying to escape, not looking for a forever home. “Claustrophobic,”
I offered only to sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“No,”
she rushed, joining my side. “Don’t ever apologize for being picky about your home, Ms. Rose, this is important. I’ll keep looking, you just relax, okay? I’ll find something perfect for you in no time.”
With that, she pulled out her phone and walked away.
I turned back to the room, looking around how perfectly they had it all set up before I headed for the door. It was the sixth place I had looked at in the last two days.
Money could buy you anything except for different preferences and the confidence to actually pull the trigger.
She had showed me three houses, two apartments, and a penthouse, and nothing felt right. Not yet anyway.
Or maybe I was just too afraid.
Or maybe I didn’t really want to leave. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I had imagined too many things, and it had convinced me that this was the right choice, when in all reality, Steven was perfect for me, and I was about to blow up the only relationship in this city I actually had, other than my dog.
But maybe this was the exact reason he had kept me from going out and having friends. Maybe this was the reason he made me cut off the people I had built relationships with at work. Maybe this was why he forced me to depend on him, so that I would start second guessing myself when I finally had the courage to leave.
I paused on the porch, small, quaint.
No, that was crazy, that would take far too much planning to do in order to accomplish all of that, and he didn’t truly seem like the planning type.
I shoved the papers into my purse with the others. It was my ‘house-hunting’ purse, and I had yet to empty it of all the other papers for a few reasons. One being, that I was terrified that Steven would find them lying around the apartment, and two, I hadn’t found a place that made me want to look at the papers again.
I glanced around the neighborhood, still mid-city, not very many trees, no kids, just a regular, everyday Colorado Springs neighborhood.
But not the right fit for me.
I sighed and headed down the stairs. I hoped she would have some more for me to see tomorrow because. I didn’t know what ‘surprise’ Steven had waiting for me, but I really didn’t want it. I didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.
In fact, every single time I thought about spending the next week with him, let alone the rest of my life, my stomach twisted. If that wasn’t a sign to leave, I didn’t know what was.
As soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk, something cold and hard pressed into my side, a familiar presence flooding through me in waves of fear and rage.
I straightened, my steps careful yet deliberate as the man quickly closed the distance between us. To anyone on the street, we would have looked like husband and wife, if only they could see what I assumed was a gun pressing into my left side.
“Hello, little writer, miss me?”
he asked, his voice low, almost sultry I would say. If it had been any other circumstance, I would have thought he was flirting.
“Not particularly,”
I stated bitterly, the fear closing in around me. A gun? A gun! He had a goddamn gun pressed into my ribs, what was he going to do with that, huh? Was he going to shoot me? Shoot me because I didn’t give the money to him.
But I offered. I remember that. I had offered him the account information and he refused. Not only that, but I was sure he had the means to get that information without me. No. This was a game to him. I was the antelope the lion had cornered, and he was going to play with me until my heart gave out.
He clicked his tongue. “That’s too bad,”
he cooed. “Get in the car.”
I glanced at the curb, finding a black Chevy pick-up sitting there waiting for us. It had to have been from the 80’s, newly done up, fresh coat of paint, fresh tires. I wondered how many bodies he had tossed into the back of it like trash before he decided to get it detailed. “Make me,”
I replied coldly. “You can’t do anything here, I’ll scream, people will see.”
If he killed me now, it would save me the trouble of finding a place, I decided.
The world would wonder what ever happened to Abigail Ross, the books fading into the background. Nobody would question what happened to Olivia Rose, and Olivia Lemont? Well, I was sure mom and dad had come up with some cover story for her long ago.
I would disappear, and nobody would miss me.
It was perfect and I was tired.
I was just plain tired.
Something sharp pinched my neck. “I can make you do whatever I want,”
he mumbled. “It’d do you well to remember that.”
I jerked awake, and the first thing I noticed was the taste of rubber on my tongue, the second was how badly my jaw ached.
I snarled, jerking at the restraints, these ones softer than the last, my eyes lifting to find the man standing a few feet away, watching me through those icy eyes of his. Dammit! He drugged me again!
The sleeves of his button-up shirt were pushed up to his forearms, his suit jacket gone, his tie perfectly set. God, if he wasn’t so damn infuriating, I might have found him attractive.
But I was too angry to think about it.
He gagged me again. My ankles strapped to the chair legs, my arms tied tightly behind me, so tight that every time I moved my fingers, it sent sparks of pain up my arms.
My circulation had been cut off.
I was soaking wet, again, dressed down in only my bra and panties, again! And I was at his mercy once again, bared for him to see. And this time around, since I had been house-hunting and not running, I was wearing a lacy pink thong and bralette set. I literally was bare to him. He could see everything.
All of it.
“Hello, little writer,”
he greeted. “The wires left too much of a bruise last time,”
he finally said, lifting his chin. “Although, you decided not to go to the police. Smart of you. And I know Steven knows who put that collar on you, he’s just too much of a pussy to do anything about it, I’m assuming.”
He was. A weak coward who still blamed me for it.
I kept my glare locked on him though. If he was searching for a reaction, he wouldn’t get one from me.
“Either way, silk ribbons will due for now.”
He walked up to me, towering over me, blocking out the florescent lights, casting a shadow over me as he looked down on me. My head was level with his stomach, and I hated it. I hated everything about this. All of it.
He took my jaw, warmth exploding across my skin as he tilted my head up, holding it in place, my pussy throbbing, aching for contact. “Look at you, drooling like the thirsty whore you are,”
he hummed quietly.
My cheeks burned red, and I jerked my chin from his grasp in response, a motion he allowed me to do, and turned my head away from him. I couldn’t stop the drool with this thing in my mouth, it was impossible. Of course, I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed about how I looked, how I sounded panting through my nose, how my body reacted to him, how much self-hatred was swimming through my veins, crashing with the lust that grew and grew and grew.
I was embarrassed and filled with gut-wrenching shame. And I was filled with need. So much need.
Unending need.
“I know I haven’t been very clear about the rules of this new version of the debt you have to pay off,”
he began coldly, “so I’ll try to lay it out in a way you’ll understand.”
I heard the sound of metal shifting ever so slightly, and I looked up, unable to swallow the curiosity.
He was holding a gun now. Silver, a .45 ACP, from the looks of it.
My eyes widened and lifted to his as he gazed down at his gun almost lovingly, I would say, but I had my doubts that he was even capable of such an emotion.
His eyes found mine at the exact same time the barrel of that gun found the underside of my chin. “Steven,”
he said the name as if it tasted of acid, “racked up a large debt that he owes to us. We saw you, decided to have some fun with it, split the debt in two. Half in money that Steven will pay from whatever he earns, not from your bank account, and the other half will be paid by you.”
Tears filled my eyes, spilling over my cheeks as the chill of the gun forced a shiver down my spine. Why wouldn’t he just take my account information? Why wouldn’t he take my damn money? I had plenty of it. More than enough to cover the entire debt. What game was he playing?
“Your payments will be paid how I want them to be paid,”
he went on, sliding the barrel of the gun slowly down the center of my neck. “I don’t care if you’re in the middle of letting Steven give you a mediocre fucking, if I want it, it’ll be mine. Every orgasm is a payment. I decide when you’ve paid enough. I decide how you give it to me. I decide when you give it to me.”
He slid the gun down between my breasts, down the center of my stomach.
I was panting, my head spinning, my body flinching at the feeling of that gun going further down, only stopping when it reached between my legs.
I gasped, my widened eyes locked on his, tears streaming down my face, my thighs flexing as he pressed it against my throbbing cunt.
He leaned over until he was eye level with me. “Waiting in the park for me, little writer?”
he asked, my heart slamming against my ribs. He clicked his tongue. “A game of chess is only won if you don’t give away how desperate you are to get to the King. But pawns can’t kill Kings, it would do you well to remember that.”
I felt like I was going to pass out. I wasn’t getting enough oxygen.
He reached down, his eyes glowing with a sick light, and carefully slid my panties to the side.
I shook my head, panic and fear slamming through me. “Wait, wait!”
I tried to scream.
He smiled softly. “Don’t worry, you’re wet enough to take it, aren’t you? Just relax, take it like the needy whore you are.”
His eyes were black now, the barrel of that gun freezing against my soaking cunt, my heart racing, my body trembling. I was needy. I needed this. I went to the park just for this. I’ve been waiting.
Waiting to be punished for the shit I kept doing. Waiting to be degraded and fucked and pushed to the brink for picking such a shitty boyfriend, a shitty life. I was stupid and pathetic, and I deserved this. I deserved every bit of it.
And I wanted it desperately.
As if my body heard my mind give up, it instantly relaxed, my legs falling apart as much as they could, my back relaxing into the chair.
The gun slipped in slowly, pulling a mumbled groan from my lips as the hard metal stretched me out, filling me up.
My mind sparked, my skin burning with lust as he pushed it in slowly. Deeper.
Deeper.
Deeper.
Oh God, the pain felt so damn good.
“See, you can take it, every inch of it. Your pussy wants to swallow it up like the disgusting whore you are.”
My eyes rolled to the back of my head as my hips lifted, my muscles straining. I felt myself internally tighten around the barrel as it continued to stretch me out impossibly. Fuck, it felt so goo—
I heard a click.
My eyes flashed open, my body tensing, my head whipping down to see his thumb coming off the safety.
Had I even considered the fact that it might be loaded a second ago? Nope.
Was I realizing now that it was loaded?
My wide eyes found his, bright and smiling.
“What’s a good fuck without a little danger?”
he mumbled, pulling it out near to the edge and shoving it back in.
I groaned, arching back against the feeling, my back erupting in sweat as the knowledge of that loaded gun inside of me hit me like a freight train.
One slip of the finger and I would either die or lose the ability to walk. One slip. One accid—
He pulled it out and shoved it in again, a kind of sick euphoria spreading throughout my body, setting my nerves on fire as my cunt tightened around it. Fuck. “You’re a pawn, little writer, my pawn. My chessboard, my game.”
He picked up the pace, fucking me hard with the barrel of his gun, the pain mixing with the pleasure to create an intoxicating swirl of emotions.
Over and over again, my skin hot, sweat and tears dripping down my face as the electricity began to build, sending sparks from my pussy straight to my limbs, my head. It began to consume me, slowly and then all at once, my cunt throbbing around the metal painfully, very aware that a bullet could shoot out of it at any second. It was indescribable, what I felt growing under my skin. The adrenaline, the fear, the absolute otherworldliness of the entire situation.
I never wanted it to end.
I could feel myself on the verge of orgasming. It was so deep and so intense, it didn’t even feel real. None of this did. It was the high of a lifetime, until it finally exploded through me, the cry a muffled whimper of absolute euphoria.
He kept fucking me with that gun until my body was shaking with exhaustion before he finally pulled it out.
I collapsed into the chair, my muscles tired from fighting against the restraints, my head pounding from lack of oxygen. I needed to sleep.
He pressed the gun under my chin and lifted it, forcing me to meet his arrogant eyes. “How does it feel to be fucked within an inch of your life?”
he asked, searching my eyes. “Because from where I’m standing, it wouldn’t surprise me if you got on your knees right now and begged for more.”
Fuck him.
It took every ounce of effort I had to glare at him.
But he was right. I wanted more.
He smiled a little smile. “You look so angry but look how she glistens in the light,”
he hummed, holding up that gun to the lights above us, and I watched in absolute shame as my arousal dripped down the barrel of that gun, mocking me, and then, to my absolute shock, the man slid the barrel of that gun in his own mouth, sliding it over his tongue, hollowing out his cheeks, and finally pulling it out. He licked his lips and finally flicked the safety back on. “Delicious.”
I turned away from him, looking straight at the door across the room from me. I had no psychotic delusions that I would escape this, but I sure as hell wouldn’t keep giving him the satisfaction of watching him. I would also no sooner forget him sucking on that loaded gun and calling me delicious. Fuck, that was something straight out of my darkest fantasies. Although he would never ever find that out. Not ever.
He straightened and walked behind me. “Your denial is so deep it’s fucking pathetic.”
What did he want from me? Did he want me to admit that I liked it? What was the point of that? We both knew how this ended. I was a means to an end with a guy like this. I was the cheating whore who dated the wrong guy, got mixed up in dark shit, and now had to pay off my shitty boyfriend’s debt to a guy who probably had some affiliation to the goddamn mafia.
I know that every ounce of shit I learned about gangs, serial killers, and the mafia all came from television and books, but there had to be some truth to that. Enough truth. At least 57% of the truth.
And what I learned from that 57% was that if the evil bastards said you were going to pay off a debt by fucking, that’s how you would pay off the debt. There were no ifs, ands, or buts.
I guess it was lucky for me that part of me did enjoy it, but I hated that I did. I loathed that I did. I shouldn’t like this. There were actual people out there going through this exact same thing against their wills, and they hated it. They were being raped and tortured and mutilated.
I should hate it too.
Because wasn’t I being raped and tortured?
Or was it not considered that because I wanted it? I actually wanted it. It was against my will, and I still wanted it. What classification did that fall under?
A ‘definitely needs to be admitted’ classification?
He wrapped his hand into my hair and jerked my head back, releasing the gag with a flick of his finger.
I choked back on the spit as he carefully lifted it from my jaw, lines of drool stretching between my mouth and it.
I swallowed over and over again, running my tongue over my lips, my throat sore. “Laying your claim again?”
I asked, my voice husky and hoarse.
His eyes flared before they hardened. “I know how much it turns you on, feeling my tongue on yours. Too bad for you, I’m not in the giving mood. Don’t ever use that word again.”
He grabbed my jaw, forcing my mouth open and bent over me, spitting into my mouth and slamming it shut, his icy blue eyes finding mine. “If you keep allowing him to leave his taste on your tongue, I must do the same.”
He straightened and stepped up to me, releasing my hair and forcing my head back against his chest, his other hand still covering my mouth, forcing me to swallow his spit.
A second later, a sharp prick pained the right side of my neck, and my panic skyrocketed.
He leaned down until his lips dusted the shell of my ear. “That’s another payment finished, little writer. See you soon.”