I doubted even a man my captor’s size could’ve broken them. How was I supposed to fight someone this prepared? I was trapped.
‘Look at you. No wonder your father left, you can’t do anything right.’
A tear rolled down my cheek as I sucked back a sob. Mom was right. Look at me. I was stuck in the middle of a room, panty clad butt on display to the strange man in here with me.
Why didn’t I wear a longer shirt? Or fight harder? I could’ve found a way to escape, or do something. Be anything but be the useless human being I was. I was pathetic.
Less than pathetic.
“Are you going to beg now?”
I turned away from his victorious grin and blinked back my tears. “Screw you.”
“No, Pet, it’ll be me that screws you.” He came to stand in front of me, eyes locking with mine. “I’m going to use you hard. In any way I want, until there’s nothing left.”
He thought he could break me? Better men than him had tried.
“So, get on with it then.”
“Not so hasty, Pet.”
My entire body twitched when he held up a knife. Light danced off the clean metal edge, sparking off the sharp tip in a flash that sent my heart hurtling into my stomach.
There was something so much more threatening about a blade. With a gun, death came quick. One bullet in the head and it was over. With a knife, someone could inflict insurmountable pain. Torment with slow, decisive slices until their victim begged for death.
I couldn’t help but squeak and jump back when he stabbed the end through the collar of my shirt.
“Like I said, Pet,” his lips curled in a slow smirk, “I know what makes you tick.”
I tried to move back, but my binds held me in place.
“Stay still, Pet.” He pulled the blade down, tearing through the thin fabric of my clothes. “You don’t want to get hurt.”
My arms were hoisted so high up over my head, I had to stand on my tip toes. Staying still was an impossibility. Especially when I felt the cool metal touch my skin.
Thankfully, the blade only bit into my skin once. My captor sliced through the last sleeve of my shirt, letting it fall to the ground in a pile of torn fabric, while I winced and shrank away from the weapon.
“I told you to stay still, Pet.”
I was about to tell him to go fuck himself–he was the one holding the knife–but then his mouth pressed down on my shoulder.
I gasped at the warmth shooting up my neck and spreading down my back. My entire focus went to his lips, hot and wet on my skin as his tongue lapped up the blood trickling from my wound.
“Mmm,” he purred, while sliding his warm palms down my side and inhaling deeply. “You like that, don’t you Pet?”
No, I didn’t like this. Didn’t like the strange feeling stirring in my core, or the goosebumps following his fingers. It shouldn’t feel this good to be touched. Not by him.
“You shouldn’t lie to your Master, Pet.”
“I’m not lying!” I snarled and swung my body back, “Get away from me. I hate you.”
His palm flattened on my back, pressing me into him, as he dragged the tip of the knife up my spine. I shivered at the coolness of the metal, contrasting with the heat of his hard body warming my skin.
He leaned in, grazing his stubble covered cheek against mine, and growled in my ear, “I can smell your cunt, Pet. You’re wet for me.”
I squeezed my thighs together and shook my head. Denying the evidence I could feel in my panties. Was I this starved for attention?
I wasn’t sure what he had planned next, but thankfully we were interrupted when another man walked into the room.
