Page 11 of Shame
I twitch. “Yes, sir, they did.”
“Did you like it? Did it make you wet?”
“No, sir.”
“Honesty from a whore? I like it. Go on.”
I guessed right. Whatever he intends to dish out, I’d be much worse off if I lied.
“My… scalp. My ass. My pussy.”
“Ah—” He strokes himself harder, faster. “Your tight little ass. Did I tear you?”
“S—some, sir,” I stutter, the memory making my stomach clench. I hope to God he won’t go there again.
“Good.”
I can’t help myself. “That’s not good. That’s just fucked up.”
Salvatore rises so abruptly I stumble back and barely manage to stay on my feet. The harsh slap on my cheek has me recoiling and tasting blood.
“Go lie on your belly on the bed. Spread your arms and legs.”
“P—please.” I shouldn't beg. It’s ridiculous. I’m here for this. I’m here for him to use me, but I feel as if I’m begging for my life and the remnants of my sanity.
He takes a step closer, towering over me. “Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way, Carmen?”
Easy! Please. My chest tightens and I scurry to the bed, crawling up on it on hands and knees and then laying down flat in the position he demanded. My head spins, and my mind tries to escape to a better place, to Colombia, to my mother’s arms, to the scents of citrus and freshly fallen rain on earth.
I try to retract within myself as he wraps leather straps around my wrists and ankles and ties me to the four corners of the bed.
A slab of meat on the butcher’s bench.
“This might hurt a bit, young Carmen. Let’s see where your breaking point lies, shall we?”
He wraps one end of a belt around his fist.
“Why are you so cruel?”
Salvatore smirks, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I like you. Sadly, it won’t benefit you.”
He flicks his wrist and the leather bears down on my butt, renewing the scorching fire. I scream myself hoarse as he keeps whipping me. I lose my voice, and my will to even live, and that’s when he’s got me. That’s when he finally stops. I stare at him as he pulls off his shirt, revealing a beautifully sculpted torso and a ripped stomach, his pants drop next, his thighs powerful. Everything goes until he stands naked before my broken body, his large cock rock hard and terrifying. I see him, and still it’s as if I’m not really here, as if it’s happening to another poor girl. He’ll hurt me more, I know it, and I can’t make myself care anymore.
Father, forgive me for I have sinned.
The mattress sinks as he kneels between my thighs. He caresses my butt and then leans in, whispering in my ear, “You’re not really hurt, Carmen. It just feels that way. I don’t damage my merchandise. I’m not stupid.” He sits back up and spreads my cheeks wide. It stings, but I push it away. Then he spits at the crack and puts the head of his cock against my tight aching hole. I inhale erratically, my stomach clenching, but then I retreat again, to that other place. I’m brutally jolted back to the present as he pushes past the clenching ring that tries to protect me from the intrusion.
“Please!” I wail. “Please! You’re hurting me!”
He pushes all the way in, I feel his hips connecting with my ass, his moan reverberating through me. Salvatore pulls back almost all the way and slams inside me again. My cries are wordless, and I can’t escape. I can’t find that other place again.
He grabs my hair and pulls back my head as he thrusts and thrusts.
It goes on forever and ever. My throat can’t produce more noise. All that is heard in the room is the beast’s grunting and the slaps of his hips meeting my ass. Suddenly he pulls out and comes with an animalistic roar, warm wet fluids covering my back. He smears it with his hand, then pushes his sticky fingers between my lips. He tastes of cum and iron.
“I hate you,” I whisper as he leaves my mouth alone and sits back up.
He chuckles. “I like you.” Then he stands, gathers his clothes and exits the room.
