Is it possible to feel so many emotions at once that you end up feeling numb?
Because that’s what I feel. Numb.
I have done for years, but even more so this past four months. Ever since…
I shake my head and try to forget about the reason my life is about to change again. For the better or worse, I have no clue, but it isn’t like I have much of a choice in the matter anyway.
I keep flicking the cold silver metal in my hand, opening and closing the knife that has become my most loved possession. The repetitive movements soothing while in complete contrast to the swirling darkness inside of me. A darkness that keeps gaining more of my mind with each passing day. I wonder if this was always my fate, was there ever a pathway that didn’t lead to bloodshed and madness? A one where I could focus on me and what makes me happy. Not living my life in the shadow of another.
I always knew she would fuck up my life in the end.
I chuckle to myself as I snap the knife shut, wishing my father hadn’t taken away my punching bag from the corner of my room. I really need to let off some steam before our face to face. It will be the second time he has even looked at me in three years. Not that I am complaining about that, if it wasn’t for being treat like a prisoner in my own home, then never seeing him would feel like a fucking gift from God.
Or Lucifer. Because we all know that if there is a God, he deserted me a long time ago.
A clearing of a throat from my doorway has me turning my head to see which of father’s guards have been sent to escort me to my demise. I say guards like he is some kind of Mafia head. No, just your average rich, wrinkly twat, with an obscene bank balance and a lineage of even more old white men, going back hundreds of years.
When I catch the buzz cut and large shoulders I turn over onto my side. With my elbow propping up my head, I bend one knee in front of me making my already short skirt ride up enough to make his eyes sparkle.
“Do you do that for all your dads guards or is that just for me?” Silas flashes me his cheeky grin, the one I sometimes let affect me. I trail my free hand up my thigh loving the feeling of his gaze tracking the movement. My nipples harden under my cropped cardigan, the friction from the material on my bare breasts adding to my growing arousal.
Silas may be one of my father’s trusted guards but with only being a handful of years older than me, we have spent many years building a somewhat friendship, well not friendly and it isn’t a relationship, but a non-hostile-ship? He still follows my father’s word as law, but he shows me small acts of kindness in the ways that he can. Like the knife at my side on my eighteenth birthday. And his cock.
I glance down to the space between his thighs and give myself a pat on the back at the growing tent in his black cargo pants. He folds his arms across his chest making his biceps bulge the way I like.
My free hand is almost at the hem of my skirt, if I keep going, I am seconds away from baring my white underwear to him. The same underwear he pulled to the side last week to fuck me with his tongue.
He clears his throat before I ever get there.
“Your father sent me to get you,” He says with a shrug.
I groan and let my head fall back.
He chuckles at my obvious sexual frustration. What can I say? When you are stuck in your room all day every day, with no punching bag and only steamy romance novels to keep you company, then you have to work out all that stress somehow.
“How about you come deal with whatever bullshit your dad wants you for,” I lift my head again as he pushes off the doorframe and thuds his dirty boots across the white fluffy carpet. The action would surely make Delphine wince, so I smirk at the thought. “And then tonight I sneak in here and shove my cock down your throat. I know how wet you get at that,” He grins again as he grabs me by both wrists and pulls me up and into his space. So close my breasts are pushed against his chest and I can feel his hard length against my stomach.
“Hmm?” I pretend to think it over, knowing fine well that all I want is for that exact scenario to happen. Hell, I would take it now instead of facing my father.
Silas lifts up my skirt and quickly slaps my exposed cheek. The sound filling the room as my stomach tightens in pleasure. I like when my attitude gets me a little pain with my pleasure. Silas likes to pretend it annoys him, but he enjoys it just as much as I do.
“Another?” He threatens after I still don’t answer him knowing fine well a small smack like that is hardly a punishment to me. I stay silent in hopes he will do it again and his beast will take control like it always does as he fucks me here and now.
His hand hits my bare flesh even harder, and I know I will have a delicious red welt as a souvenir. I let my moan loose and I am rewarded with a soft palm rubbing away the sting. Silas pushes his groin further into me as his fingers dip lower and lower. He lets out a groan as his middle finger slips into my underwear from behind and he feels just how much I enjoy his so-called punishment.
“Fuck” he grunts out as he slips a finger inside of me. I moan louder this time as he fills me, and I try to back up onto his hand. I need more.
“Stop” He pulls his hands off me as he steps away and I immediately feel the loss. I huff in frustration as he wipes his fingers on his cargo pants.
“Let’s go. I’m not getting into shit with your dad because you’re horny. Now move,” He nods his head towards the door as I feel the arousal immediately disappear like it was never there in the first place. Silas may be the only person who is kind, but that is in a sea of people who are downright vicious towards me. He isn’t kind in a conventional way, just kinder than anyone I have come across in my twenty-three years stuck in this hell hole.
“Dick!” I spit as I pass him. He chuckles knowing fine well that regardless of his mean words and disregard of my feelings, I will still let him into my bed tonight. Anything is better than nothing, and after spending years with nothing at all, I will take what I can get.
***
When I walk into the dining room a chill works its way from the base of my spine up to the hair on my head. Even with the grand fireplacespitting embers and heat, the room remains cold, cavernous and sterile, like a mausoleum dressed in finery. It always has.
If I took a picture, strangers would gasp at its elegance. Dark timber panelling, marble floors polished to a mirror-like sheen, floors Delphine obsessively keeps spotless. Chandeliers that drip crystal like frozen tears, and a dining table far too long for the number of people who ever sit at it. On the surface, it’s breathtaking. Regal. Immaculate.
