“Yes. Yes. Please.”
The hot cum lubricated me. His cock engorging extended the pleasure beyond comprehension, tearing and hurting me even more, but the pain was now pure pleasure, and I was addicted. The cum squelched loudly as he fucked me without control. I gasped for air.
Once again, I’d inexplicably ended up enjoying something I found vile. The self-disgust reached me within seconds and was infinite.
Sir blew out every candle until it was pitch black. I collapsed to the floor, too tired to do anything but fall into a half-asleep state while sobbing inconsolably. “What have I done? What have I done?” I kept repeating.
“Shh… You’re okay. You did good, Little One, you did.” He petted me while whispering kind words in an attempt to bring me back.
The searing of my torn ass from his girth and the inability to close it was all I could focus on. Disgusting. Humiliating.
I felt vapid—physically, emotionally, spirituality—and my mind equaled that of a worthlessness that made me crave death as powerfully as I craved as air. “I want to die. Let me die,” I mumbled while sobbing with my eyes closed.
The blistering burns on my back were throbbing torture. It was hot and frigid at the same time, sending violent chills through my body. The person I used to be had been replaced by a black hole. The self-hate came and drowned me. I hated the pieces I was leaving behind as I died. It was weird being alive while also being so dead inside that I no longer remembered the person I used to be.
He’d shattered me into so many pieces. There were only splinters left of me. “Please kill me. Please.”
The worst part: I didn’t even remember how he did it. It was second nature to want to please him. I was supposed to be something big, impressive, important. Daddy wanted me to change the world, and yet all I was allowed to become was a disgusting, empty whore.
As he pulled the candles off me, the frozen wax yanked at my skin. I arched and screamed.
“Little One,” he kept calling me, trying to speak some sense into me and bring me back, but he didn’t understand he’d killed my spirit and the only thing he could do to bring me out of this misery was to pull the trigger. I was like some injured, trapped animal, and he kept trying to save me when the right thing would’ve been to shoot me already.
“Kill me. Kill me. Kill me.”
Nothing calmed me.
When he carried me to the bathroom and placed me in the waterfilled tub with him under me, holding me, giving me short kisses on my cheeks and temples, my hands, as he washed me, I stopped screaming but not sobbing, not hiccuping, not begging him to kill me. He rinsed me and dried me, then tucked me into bed.
“Thank you for being so good today, Little One. It’s my birthday, and you gave me such an amazing gift by being your true self.” His words mingled with my deep sleep.
“No. No. No,” I mumbled.
“I’ll be gone for a while.” It was quiet for sometime, so I fell into deeper and deeper sleep.
“What’s your name?”I wasn’t sure if all the gentleness had been a wishful dream.
“I don’t remember,” I whispered, waking alone in the pitch-black room alone.
It felt like a substantial time after when something bad happened, something even more awful. Somehow, when I woke up again, I wasn’t sure if that awful event had even occurred.
It was just a feeling. But if it was just a bad dream, then why was my body even more torn apart than how Sir had left it?
Everything—my mouth, my pussy, my clit, my arms—was broken. I had to hold on to the wall when I would walk to the bathroom, and it burned to piss.
29. A Friend In Hell
It was difficult to walk the next day, but I powered through to go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and shower. When the door opened, the man who usually brought my meals brought a white hospital gown.
“Are you feeling better?”
Feeling better? What was he talking about? Had I been sick?
“Uh… yeah. Why?” I asked as I stood, grabbed the gown, and put it on. The fabric was too rough after not wearing clothes for so long.
“Follow me.”
He strode too quickly through the halls, but I was sure if I’d asked him to slow down, he’d ignore me, so I suffered in silence. Finally, we arrived at a big room with a glass ceiling and a tall tree planted in a fountain at the center. With the combination of the sunlight raining down and the fluorescent lighting, everything was too white. Small square tables surrounded the tree, with other slaves sitting, eating, and conversing. It felt like another dimension, as if I’d exited the sex-slave training center and entered some fancy cafeteria.
