“I’m sorry, Randall.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, even though I knew he hated it when I cried. I couldn’t help it as pain laced through my head.
“You will clean this up and come upstairs and perform your wifely duties,” he said through gritted teeth, before pushing me away from him. Tears fell down my cheeks as I turned to clean up the plates in the dish rack from last night. They were clean, but because I’d not put them away, I hadn’t ‘cleaned’ up. I made sure to slowly put them away so the crockery didn’t clack against each other. That was another trigger of his. He hated when I made loud sounds. When the last plate was away, I took a deep breath, wiping the tears from my eyes before I moved up the stairs, knowing what was waiting for me. When he drank rum, he was a monster.
But it was better than what waited for me at the compound that he had rescued me from. I should be thankful. I didn’t want to turn out to be like my mother, being sold over and over again to different men, each more aggressive than the one before. I opened the door to see him standing with his shirt opened, his smooth chest on display as he waited for me.
“Hurry up,” he barked at me. I slid into the room and waited for him to tell me what he wanted. He grabbed my hair, pulling my head back and landing his open mouth on mine. He was covering my nose, to the point I struggled to breathe as he sloppily kissed me. I could taste the rum on his tongue, enough for me to want to gag.
Randall pulled himself back up and he pushed me toward the bed. I threw my hands out to stop myself from falling face first on the bed. His hand pushed down on the middle of my back so my arms collapsed under me and my face was being pushed into the bed. I struggled against it but it was no use. With his free hand, he threw my dress up over my back and yanked my panties off. The elastic of the underwear pulled up violently against my clit and forced me to scream out in pain.
“Shut up,” he yelled at me, smacking me on the ass so hard I could feel the cheek burn from the impact. I turned my head to the side, pushing up a little from the mattress so I could breathe just as I felt him nudge his cock at my dry-as-the-sahara-desert pussy and push himself into me. I screamed as my pussy lips ripped from the pressure. He didn’t stop until he pushed his half erect cock into me, the alcohol affecting him in more ways than one. He continued to fuck me, groaning in pleasure, as I cried out in pain.
“Argh!” he grunted as he pulled out from me. “You filthy bitch!”
I turned around to see what he was upset about, only to see that his flaccid cock was covered in blood. He’d cut me open so deep that I’d bled onto him.
“You whore,” he spat at me. “You want to get bloody, then you’ll be bloody.”
He grabbed a knife that he kept in his bedside table for protection and held it against my throat. I shuddered, because I knew he would use it too. The coolness of the blade was held against my throat, the sharp tip cutting into my skin.
“Please,” I begged him. “Please, let me make you feel good, please…”
“Oh, you want to be a whore tonight?” he asked. “I should have known, after all, look where I got you from. Go on, whore, make me cum. But know…if you don’t…I’ll cut your tits off.”
I sank down to my knees and took his limp dick into my hands, trying to wipe the blood from it.
“Suck it, bitch,” he yelled at me, the knife digging into my neck. “It’s your own mess, suck it clean.”
I shuddered as I pulled his soft cock into my mouth, the tangy copper taste of my own blood flooded my mouth as I tried to get him hard. I knew by the way he was sighing, and grunting, that he wasn’t getting hard from it. He was too far gone. Tears ran down my cheeks as I realized I was going to be adding to my scars tonight.
I pumped his cock with my fist, and I could hear his annoyance multiply.
“You useless whore,” he sneered. “You can’t even make me cum. What good are you?”
He grabbed me by the throat, squeezing tight, cutting off the air as I tried to move out of his grasp.
“I should send you back and get a good one,” he said.
“No, please.”
There was no greater fear than being sent back. I knew what happened to those women who got sent back. It was worse than this.
“Did I say you could speak?” he asked me, his eyes dark and scary. I felt the slap before his hand smacked against my cheek, my face twisting to the side. The burning that followed made me want to cry out. I slowly looked up at him, just as I felt his fist land on my jaw, sending me sprawling onto the bed.
“Now, I’ll take my goods before you ruin the night,” he said, just as I felt his cock nudge at my entrance again, but he was softer than a pot of yogurt. “And if I don’t fit, I’ll cut you open.”
Immediately, I felt his cock harden at the thought of cutting me. He pulled the knife back up and held it against my neck.
“Matter of fact, I might just do it anyway.”
I screamed out as I felt the blade enter my skin.
“No!” I screamed out, reaching for the air around me. I was sweaty as I looked around at the unfamiliar place.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I heard his voice behind me. His arms wrapped around my waist as I turned quickly to look into his worried face. “You’re safe.”
I didn’t feel safe. I was in the arms of the man who would see me behind bars. And yet, I knew I was safe here, with him.
