Page 17 of Grave Possession

Her pussy strangles my dick from the force of her screaming. She’s baring down, giving it her all, yelling as loud as she possibly can. It’s a near-deafening, ear-piercing cry that I’m going to remember long after she’s gone, and one I’ll thirst for from all the women who'll come after her.

“Be as loud as you want, darlin’. No one’s goin’ to hear ya,” I pant. Cupping my palm at the wound site, I scoop up her blood then pour it over the spot where my girth disappears inside her. Fuck, it’s so warm and wet,I’m not going to last much longer. The symphony of her sobs echo through the air around us and I sincerely hope no one is near enough to hear.

My nuts draw up close to my body as I barrel down the runway towards euphoria. I’m faintly aware that Mallory isn’t crying anymore, but I’m too hooked on the need to cum that I don’t give a shit. I’ve wrecked her today. She’s probably blocked out what I’m doing to her now. It happens all the time with these women. They are coherent until they aren’t. They zone out when shit becomes too traumatic to deal with. The thing is… Mallory is significantly more deranged than the other girls, raping her will only add to her darkness, not snuff it out. That thought alone has me unleashing my swimming army into her bloody cunt with a guttural sound of my own to ring through the forest.

Chapter Thirteen

Mallory

He slaps a journal down next to me on the mattress, dropping a pen next to it. I slowly slide my hand farther under the pillow, trying to conceal what I know he’ll hate that I have.

“I knew you’d be everything I was looking for. You never stop fighting,” this fuckwit says. He isn’t wrong though. As much as I want to die in this moment, I want to kill him before I cross into hell. If strength and speed were on my side, I’d try and stab him to death with the pen he just carelessly tossed me. My sinister intentions will have to be put on hold for now though as my jailer’s gangly body morphs from one solid person, splits into two, then three hazy forms, shifting in and out of focus. The sensation makes me woozy and nauseous.I need to lie down.There are multiple frightening forms of my captor, they move unnaturally as he advances on me. I know I would immediately fall on my ass if I tried to stand on my own, never mind trying to fight him to the death. It’s why he had to place his filthy, rapist hands on me again,manhandling me down to my prison when I pathetically tried to resist.

He shakes a bottle of pills in my face, and the sound makes my head throb. “Want somethin’ for that headache, darlin’?” No, not if I have to suck dick to get it. I’ll suffer the brain swelling, maybe it will kill me before he tears me apart again. Everything hurts, my body is thumping in pain with every pump of my heart. “It’s free of charge this time,” he laughs to himself as he dumps three pills from his palm to mine, and extends a bottle of water. I raise my eyes to his and glare. He smirks before saying, “It’s water this time, I swear.” I reach for it, leaving the tether to my sanity safely under the pillow. I open the lid, tentatively taking a sip. I know he won’t kill me yet, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be drugged again.

“Thank you,” I grumble. I don’t want to be seen as ungrateful. I won’t be making that mistake again. He leaves me, moving to crouch in front of the bags in the middle of the room. Rifling through them, he begins to pull things out and make a pile to his right. I squint but can’t make anything out. I toss back the pills, guzzle down half the water, then lay back onto the most uncomfortable mattress in existence. “How many days have I been gone?” I risk asking. I shouldn’t, but I have this incessant need to know.

“Oh, just over a week,” he says, chipper as all hell thanks to the throbbing area between my legs. That’s all it’s been? Surely Lennox and Victoria have raised the alarm that I’m missing by now? “Don’t get any thoughts brewin’ over there. No one knows you're gone. Not a single missin’ person’s report has been filed.” His words,even if they’re untrue, send an arrow piercing through the balloon of hope that was inflating inside my chest. It pops, and I deflate. The light at the end of the tunnel I was clinging to goes out, and all dreams of being rescued leave me in a whoosh of breath. My face throbs and the pain in my nose becomes excruciating as I stuff down the tears welling up inside me. I carefully trail my fingers over the swollen skin of my face. I’m sure if I looked in a mirror right now I’d be unrecognizable, even I don’t recognize the feel of my own flesh.

“What did you do to me?” my voice wavers through the dank atmosphere.

“Nothin’ you haven’t done to me.” His voice is curt, I’m pushing my luck with him. “Want to see for yourself?” He whirls around, chucking a pink children’s mirror into my lap. It’s made of plastic and guaranteed to be “100% shatter-proof” as the little sticker on the front says. No easy way out of this hell-hole for me.

I lift it up but cry out when the hole in my shoulder reminds me of its presence. Fuck it, it’s not worth it. Seeing what an unrecognizable mess I’ve become will only upset me more. Dropping the mirror on the ground, I curl myself into a ball, close my eyes, and wait for sleep to take me away.

His feet drag through the dirt, the shuffling increasing in volume as he makes his way over to the repulsive mattress I’m resting on. When I feel him looming over me, I open an eye and scowl up at him.Piss off, you ugly fuck.He’s got a stack of shit in his hands. “You could be a bit more enthusiastic, look at what I got for you,” he huffs.

I snap up, hiding the agony coursing through my body as I change the tone of my voice drastically. “Oh!” I clap my hands. “What did you bring me, Santa? It’s like Christmas morning all over again!” I sarcastically squeal with glee. My vision splits and dizziness overcomes me but I fight through it.

“Alright, I’m not in the mood for any more of your shit.” He tugs on my leash, double checking the lock, before dropping the things I earned on the floor with a heavysmack.He moves back over to the shopping bags, rummaging through the biggest one. “Red, blue, or green?” he asks.

“Blue,” I reply without thinking. Whatever it is, I don’t care what the colour is. The sound of tearing packaging, cracking, then shaking echoes around the room, and a glow starts to emanate from his hand.

It’s a glow stick.

Suddenly, I’m very happy with my colour choice. Red or green would’ve been far too intense for my sore eyes and pounding skull. “What are those for?”

“It would be pretty hard for you to read or write in the dark, don’t ya think, sugar?” What the fuck is wrong with his voice? Go back to being the raspy creep from the post office. I don’t like this new soft and normal sounding side, it’s as unnerving as his monotone, emotionless voice.

“I guess so…” I agree. He crosses the room back to me and hands me the glow stick. “Thank you,” I whisper. He crouches, eyes scanning over every inch of my skin and taking in the smattering of marks he’s left on my body. The memories will get him through his next shift of pretending to be a squeaky clean police officer for the town of Crystal Creek.

“I hope your boyfriend comes back tonight, I’d love to have a conversation with him while your blood still paints my dick,” he says. Fire wells up inside me while I try to remain expressionless. He wants my reaction, it feeds his sadistic needs.

His hand lands on my shoulder, thumb sweeping downward, back and forth over my stab wound. The dull throb intensifies from the agitation, disturbing the clot that formed and leaking a new bloom of blood to the surface. “Give me a kiss before I go.”No. No. No.I don’t move toward him, and he increases the pressure on the cut in my skin. “Come on now, darlin’, I ain’t got all day.” His grip becomes punishing, and his thumb sinks inside the hole. The squelching is loud in the soundless room as blood seeps out around his digit, leaving a warm trail down my arm. He pulls me closer and I can’t contain my scream of pain. I don’t want to lock lips with him willingly, I’d rather blackout from the pain. He moves to seal his mouth against mine, and I turn my head away. He dives his fingers into my hair, fisting tight and forcing my face back in the direction of his. “Kiss me good and I won’t stab Officer Good Boy the next time I see him alone in the woods.”

The fight leaks out of me in an instant. I’m a malleable vessel when he pulls me to meet his mouth. I’m not here. Nox is beside me, and we’re lying on the dock, soaking up the late summer sun. My mouth moves robotically against my captors and he hums his pleasure into me. Nox’s voice doesn’t keep me rooted when I try todissociate this time. It lets me float away to the recesses of my mind where he lingers. The memories of him keep me from biting into my own wrist to end the torture.

I don’t know when the assault ended, when he left, or when I fell asleep. But when I awake, I retrieve the pen and start to write. It’s an urge I suddenly have, and with nothing else to do, I give in. Illuminated by the calming blue glow of the stick lying in the crevasse of the journal, the words flow out of me. My tears splash onto the page, smudging the wet ink as my hand glides across the paper. Sobs wrack my body, their agonizing melody ringing out around me. A whirlwind of thoughts and memories surround me as I unleash everything that’s been building inside me for years. Hate, pain, anguish, and resentment gouge the page as I furiously write.

An eerie sense of being watched slithers through the atmosphere. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as every hair on my arms stands at attention. I pause my cathartic outpouring and hold my breath, listening for any trace that my captor is hiding in the shadows. I hold it until my lungs burn and I can no longer withstand the lack of oxygen. I’m sure he isn’t here. Then who is? What is it that I’m picking up on?

Trying to brush off the unsettling feeling, I rip a few pages from the journal then cast it aside and stand. Making my way over to use the ‘toilet’ that’s placed at the end of my leashes reach. I can feel his cum between my thighs. I need it off me.I need it out of me.Crunching thepapers in my hands to make them a bit softer, I use them to clean myself up. It’s not perfect but at least I’m not slippery with his disgusting seed anymore. Will there ever come a time in my life when I won’t be used and abused by a man?

I’ve been called a lot of deplorable things in my life, but having to squat over a bucket with a fadedRocky Road Ice Creamsticker is a whole new level of degrading. The act takes my already fragile sense of self-worth and smashes it to smithereens.

Moving unsteadily back over to the bed, I pick up the clothes he left for me and dress quickly. These scraps of fabric barely cover me, however, it’s better than being naked. I don’t know what that asshole has planned for my ruined clothes, but it can’t be good. I just wish he had let me keep my boots. My feet are always cold, but now without any coverage, they are like damn blocks of ice.

I fall back into a sitting position on the mattress. Sliding my fingers under the pillow, I grasp the lone daisy by the stem and gently pull it out. I’m surprised it survived being crushed in my fist. I had to keep it hidden from my captor. I’ve been slapped for a fleeting moment of happy remembrance, I don’t want to endure whatever he’d do to me for holding onto a piece of my past.

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