I cried like a child because somehow through the months but especially that day, he’d broken me physically and emotionally again and again, into being exactly what he’d set sight on, making me his perfect whore for him to sell. “Shh. It’s okay,” he repeated while embracing and kissing me, and he didn’t stop, not even when I fell asleep.
“Promise me you won’t let go of me tonight,” I said, half asleep.
He kissed my shoulder, and as he wrapped his arms and legs around me, he replied, “I promise. Rest, Little One, you need to rest.” Several times, I didn’t wake up completely when he reapplied the cream to my wounds.
“You’re pussy is going to get me killed, Little One,” I thought I heard him say, but it could have been just a dream.
28. Happy Birthday
MAGDALENA
Ialmost fought them when they threw me back in the dark bunker, but what was the point? There was no way I could escape, I knew that now. So, all I did was hang onto the memory of that night when Sir fucked me so gently it fooled me into thinking he was making love to me. I didn’t regret allowing myself to be fooled.Sick, wasn’t it?Pretending your rapist loves you and cares about you and he’s making love to you when he just held a gun to your head and let more than a hundred people beat you? Pathetic. But I let all that go, closed my eyes and mind, and just pretended because I knew it would be the closest I’d ever come to being made love to.
As I lay in my bunker alone for days—abandoned, forgotten—only getting a small bowl of bland chicken soup with a tiny piece of bread and water, that night was all I had left to hang onto. Thinking of the past was too painful, so I focused on that night. The way he caressed me, kissed my lips, made me come over and over and over again through the night until I was so tired I couldn’t move and just stayed there for him to do whatever he wanted.
My sanity depended on that memory.
The door opened, allowing the light to flash to my face and wake me. Someone took two steps into the room.
“Hmmm?” I moaned, thinking it was the young guy who usually brought my food.
Slowly, I rolled my eyes to the left. Sir was staring at me, waiting for me to move. It was shocking to see him after so much time, so it took me a moment to know what to do. There was a slight smirk at the corner of his lips. He knew I’d missed him. But he was so wrong, I didn’t just miss him. I’d been starving for him.
As he unbuttoned his cuffs, then the rest of the silky white shirt, I crawled toward him. The need to be kissed, caressed, fucked, and held overwhelmed me. I tried to remind myself that this wasn’t the fancy apartment with the view; no, here I would not get any semblance of the lover, only the slave trainer and bull. But I craved it to not be so badly that I couldn’t help but hope. People always acted like hope was a great thing, something that helped you survive horrible times in your life. But I already knew hope was dangerous in this place and could kill you.
My nipples were achingly stiff. But to get what I needed, I had to do everything right, so I didn’t meet his eyes or dare to speak.
“Good girl. You’ve learned so much.” He petted me. I couldn’t wait anymore. I had to see him up close, so I looked up. His dick was hard, dripping. It made me happy to know he wanted me as desperately as I needed him. While staring into his eyes, I licked the tip of his cock and sucked on it.
“Ummmmpphhh, Little One. You’ve truly learned your role. I’m so proud of you. Today is a special day. Do you promise to behave?”
I nodded, and in my craving for pain, I took it deep into my mouth until I was helplessly gagging.
“Fuck yeah. Such a good cock sucker.” The deeper, huskier voice praising me had my pussy throbbing. I was so hungry for him.
“You must have been starving for it.” He read my mind. His palms cupped my cheeks while my saliva dribbled down my chin. He pulled away from me.
My brow quivered as my emotions became chaos and shattered somewhere between terror and sadness at failing him. Except I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. He studied me, so I lowered my cheek to the ground to show him respect. What did I do?Stupid, stupid Magdalena. Now there was no chance he’d show me any affection. It was all I wanted. I would have done anything for it.
He walked away and turned the shower on. “Come.” I stood and walked to him. After he washed and rinsed me, I kept my back to him, drowning in sadness and wondering how I could mend my failure. My eyes studied every detail of the floor while he dried me and twisted my hair into a bun. He secured a tight collar around my neck. “You’re ready now. Follow me. Crawl.”
I was surprised to step outside the room. The floor was smooth and cold on my knees and palms. We passed trainers, slaves, nurses, and guards. The slaves were always naked, with their heads hanging, one hand across their chest and the other over their pussy, trying to cover themselves. I could tell who had been here for a long time because they didn’t cover anything. The trainers greeted each other like coworkers or colleagues. We walked through a few halls before stopping outside a door. “If you behave, you’ll be able to go outside and meet other girls.”
The excitement erased all other thoughts from my mind. I smiled at him and squealed. “Outside?” I’d not thought that was possible. Then I realized he was glaring at me; I had already fucked up again by speaking without permission. My smile melted away.
“This is your new room,” he announced as he opened the door.
The room was twice the size of the other one. There was a mirrored wall next to another door that didn’t lead to the bathroom. In a dark corner, sat a locker cabinet, and there were ropes hanging from multiple brackets in the high ceiling.
“Get into position.” As I obeyed him, he went into the bathroom, then returned.
He parted my butt cheeks and slowly, like he’d done on stage and so many times before, pushed something solid and slippery into my butt. I wasn’t allowed to protest, so I showed my discomfort through my breathing.
As I studied the patterns of fissures on the cobblestone floor, he poured a hot liquid over the spine of my back. I hissed and cringed, rubbing my thumb against the roughness of the floor, and the liquid solidified, searing my skin.
“Remember what I said, slave.”
Slave?He never called me that.After a few seconds, the heat disappeared, leaving my skin sensitive. I winced when it happened again but bit my lower lip in an effort to stay quiet.
