Page 20 of Acts of Contrition
He releases one nipple and holds the other out, stretching my breast and holding it aloft. “These are meant for your loyal husband, to nurse his children and for him to touch and abuse as he pleases. No one else. These have caused you to corrupt innocent men, and in turn corrupt yourself.Apologize!”
As he shouts the last word, his free hand forms into a fist and punches my taut breast hard. It smacks out of his hand and slaps against me as I bite my lip to keep from shouting in pain.
I refuse to apologize. I never did a damn thing wrong. It was the world that did me wrong.
“You need this. Your tits deserve this. A reminder of how vile you’ve behaved.” He hits them a few more times with his bare fists, the force making my chest and diaphragm ache.
What if he breaks my ribs?
But he stops and picks up the metal rod … or is that a cane?
He looks at it for a moment and my whole body tenses up. I’m not ready for this. If he rapes me with it, that will be what breaks me irreparably. He taps it against his open palm and says, “I should penetrate you with this. Feel the cold, unyielding steel as it rearranges your insides. That’s what youdeserve, however I feel as if that would just excite you more, heathen.”
So … he’s not?
“You should begin to pray. For forgiveness, for salvation, and in gratitude.” That is all the warning he gives me before the metal cane whacks against the soft skin of my breasts. On top, across my nipples, underneath as he holds each one up in turn by the nipples.
The pain is so bad you could set me on fire and I’d feel it less. Beads of blood pool below the surface of my skin, and the sensitive area is already beginning to bruise. I can’t look away, despite the repulsion roiling through me.
Eventually I fade back into my own subconscious, tuning out the pain and his deep grunts as much as I can. Strands of hair come loose from his ponytail, dangling in his face. His cheeks are flushed as well, but his eyes are as dead as ever.
Eventually, he stops, and the cane clatters to the floor.
He unhooks the cuffs and my body flops down on the mattress, and I immediately regret doing that, as it aggravates my brand new wounds.
Thomas roughly turns me over so I am on my back, bare tits bouncing. As soon as I see his hand on his belt, I look away, but I can see him from the periphery of my vision.
I learned the hard way men want to be seen, to not close my eyes when they use me, so I don’t.
He takes his rock hard cock out, stroking it. It’s thick and long, precum at the tip. I wonder where he’s going to put it first, how bad he’ll hurt me like everyone else.
But he doesn’t move closer.
He keeps stroking, staring at my wounded breasts, until he starts speaking. I can’t understand it, and search my brain for what language it could be before I realize it’s not a language. He’s praying, speaking in tongues.
Oh, he really is so psychotic.
His voice gets deeper, melodic, faster. Even as he gasps and covers my breasts in warm semen, he doesn’t stop until he is completely spent. Breathing hard, his eyes look more human now. Pupils wide, sparkles in them. When he meets my eyes, I look away.
Thomas says nothing, merely tucks himself back into his jeans, zips, buckles his belt, and leaves.
Leaving me bruised, wounded, covered in sticky come.
When the door shuts behind him with a soft snick of the lock, I finally let myself cry.
Chapter Eleven
Thomas
I LEAVE DIANA after relieving my aching balls all over those beautiful, bruised breasts. Just thinking how the colors will deepen to a kaleidoscope of red, purple, and green by tomorrow could make me hard again.
This was my biggest challenge yet since joining the community. Could I do what I needed to do, despite knowing it would arouse me, without taking her? Without making her mine, without forcing her to worship me as she should? Could I prove I changed from the man I used to be before I joined?
And I passed the test. I proved myself. I proved that my transformation was nearly complete, that God worked within me since arriving here. Despite temptation, I did not succumb.
Diana is so beautiful. So strong yet fragile. I see the sweetness below the hardened exterior her life on the streets caused her to build around her heart. I just need to figure out how else to reach her. I need a bridge of sorts.
I have applied the physical aspects, but she seems to reject anything emotional. Something has to bridge it, to make her more comfortable with me.
