The fingers are gone. The vibration ceases. The orgasm that had been about to rip through me stills and dies. Panting, I catch myself from falling again, moving my ass around and seeking more attention, more touches. Everything I’ve wanted for years and only just recently discovered I can actually have.
“Who are you, really?” I ask, again pushing the idea that I deserve to at least know something.
The whip hitting the backs of my thighs hurts. But I hold onto the scream and clench my jaw so hard that my teeth squeak.
“Tell me your name!” I shout. I don’t know why, because all it’s going to do is piss my captor off, and I’m never going to come back from this.
“You don’t deserve to know who I am.” The words are whispered harshly against my ear. “You’re just a disgusting slut who deserves what she gets. You wanted this. Don’t ever forget that youbeggedme to come find you and take you and rape you.”
The muscles in my back spasm from the whip slashing across it. I gasp.
“And I’m going to make you mine.”
One more lash, and I scream, “STOP!”
“Shut up!”
Fingers are shoved in my mouth again, pushing deep into my throat. I gag, barely able to breathe. My eyes well with tears. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what I thought it’d be like. I widen my jaw and try to breathe through my nose, but it’s so damn hard. The fingers move even deeper, pushing down my tongue as saliva slides against the leather and my juices. My heart thunders.
And then they’re gone, replaced with a rubber ball that’s fastened tightly around my head. I try to speak, but I can’t. Words won’t form, and my tongue just keeps pushing against the ball as if I’m going to be able to push it out of my mouth, but I’m completely at my captor’s mercy.
Then there’s quiet, at least for a fleeting second, until a zipper slowly opens. I wince as the reality settles in. Fingers are one thing. The vibrating toy is another. But this? I shake my head as I cry. I’m not sure this is what I want.
“Just take it like a good girl.”
Chapter 8
November 26
The clock ticks to four, and my eyes are glued to it. I can’t stop looking. BandAid42 told me at four, on the dot. But we’ve literally just sat down for the early Thanksgiving dinner Reik insists on hosting every year. Mother’s here, along with Reik’s sister and her family. My heart’s in my throat, clogging it up with anxiety.
The conversation flows between the family, but it always does. I rarely interject, just sit quietly and listen to them prattle on about their perfect lives. That’s what they always want everyone to think. Appearances first. Emotions never.
With food divided up on everyone’s plate, including mine, I glance at the clock again. I’m ten minutes late. Rubbing my lips together with worry, I shift to the edge of my seat and catch Reik’s attention.
“I think I must have caught a stomach bug going around. I need to go upstairs,” I whisper, but it’s clear to me that he doesn’t hear everything I said.
“We have guests, Lizzie.”
“I know, but…I can’t hold it.” I shift again, making my body look as uncomfortable as possible, which isn’t hard because I am. Just not because of the conversation but because of where I shouldn’t be… Which is right where I want to be.
“Fine.” Reik waves me off.
I skitter out of my chair, making apologies along the way, and race up to the spare bedroom. I shut the door and lock it. No one needs to stumble in and see this. Pressing my hand over my heart, I stare at my computer. How mad will BandAid42 be that I’m late?
How will I be punished? Because if it’s anything like the last instructions I was given…I’m going to love every second of it.
Sliding into the chair, I boot the computer up, log into the website, and just wait. Fear takes hold of me, and I can’t force my fingers to type anything into the DM window. But they must know. They knew I’d been there the last time, lurking and watching. So they must know that I’ve logged in.
BandAid42
You’re late.
My heart sinks. Called out for my ineptitude, I type as quickly as possible. It’s worse than I feared, and I need to find a way to handle the situation immediately. Groveling always works with Reik—mostly.
F4tNw1ll1ng
I’m sorry. I couldn’t get away.
