Page 23 of Thorns Laced In Blood

I woke up gasping for air but was back in the basement. At first, I thought it was a dream, but the raw pain from my knuckles told me it had been real. I glanced up to see my hands tied to the metal bed frame. The sudden memory of being in the coffin without air made me pant.

“That was a taste of how you will die. Or you might die in this very room.”

In fright, I jerked against the rope but turned my head toward his voice to see him standing in the doorway. He stepped inside and removed his jacket, placing it on the table before sauntering into the room.

“You must be hungry, doll,” he said, unzipping his trousers. “I’m here to feed you.”

I closed my eyes as he climbed onto the bed and moved his knees beside my head. I opened my mouth, ignoring the pain in my face from the shower incident. When I opened my eyes, I saw his hand move to his dick as he guided the tip into my mouth. His red tie dangled over my head, and I focused on the material as he fed me his cock.

“This is all you are, doll. Something to use. My toy. A plaything to empty my balls into. This is what you've always been,” he said, his voice cold and calm.

I struggled to hold my mouth open as he thrust himself down my neck, battering his way past my raw throat. The memories of him slapping my face until I stopped gagging rushed into my mind, and tears rolled down my face.

The bed strained beneath me, and he placed his hands on the metal bed frame above my head. I looked away from his tie andstared at his black trousers. He pulled his hips back before he drove into me again, slapping the black material against my face.

“It’s just as well that your mouth is this good, doll, because Daddy almost left you in that coffin,” he said, moving his hips faster. “Yes, take it. Daddy is going to feed you soon.”

He held himself inside my neck and pummelled me with short, sharp thrusts. I knew he did it on purpose because he was battering himself against my aching face. When I tried to turn my head to a better angle he gripped my hair, ripping it from the roots.

“Every day, I will make you wish for death,” he panted before I felt his cock swell in my throat.

He suddenly pinched my nose, cutting off my oxygen, and I panicked, trying to breathe through my mouth. I started to retch with the sound of blood rushing around my ears.

“Oh, yeah. Oh, oh, fuck—” he groaned as he continued to fuck my mouth.

I struggled against the rope with my legs kicking against the bed. When I felt myself about to pass out, he pulled out of my neck, and I felt his dick spit cum against the back of my throat. I choked on it as I tried to suck air in. He released my nose and started to pump his hand up and down his cock until more cum splashed into my mouth. I held my mouth open while breathing through my nose.

When I glanced up at him, his calm demeanour was gone, and sweat dripped off his face. His dark hair, which was usually combed back, fell over his eyes. It looked damp and clumped together with sweat. His eyes locked onto mine while pulling his cock out of my mouth.

“Good little whore. Enjoy your meal. I will be back to feed you later,” he said, moving off me.

Before he walked out of the room, he switched the light off, plunging it into darkness and triggering the memories from the coffin. I continued to take deep breaths, grateful for the plentiful air around me.

He didn't need to make me wish for death because I already did.

???

He had me tied face down on the table while he fucked me from behind. This pain I could manage because he wasn't in my ass. His movements got faster until the table started to jolt forward, scraping against the grey floor. He began to pant and grunt. I hissed from the pain as he rubbed against me. I clenched around him, hoping he would finish sooner.

It wasn't long before he moved away from me and came to the front of the table. I lifted my head, opened my mouth while he grabbed my hair and thrust his cock into me. His hands moved to the side of my head before he used his grip before he resumed his brutal thrusts.

I stared at his thrusting pelvis and swaying balls. It had been a week since he had me in the coffin, but by the fourth day, he gave me some toast because I could barely stand in my weakened state.

What did he expect? I wasn't getting my five a day from his cum.

“Taste your cunt, doll. Wash it all off,” he said, pulling my head down his length.

I tried to lick him, but his movements were too rough. He kept his cock lodged in my neck as he groaned when he finally came. His movement slowed, but his grip on my hair didn't loosen.

“Lick,” he said, pressing his balls and pelvis to my face.

I licked him quickly before he pulled back, leaving his cock in my mouth. While I continued to clean him, I breathed heavily through my nose.

“I might keep you around after all,” he mused while I sucked on the tip of his cock.

He moved away from me to put his navy pyjama bottoms on, leaving his chest bare. I remained silent when he began to untie the ropes. The last time he tied me to the table, he had whipped my back, fucked me and left me tied to the table the entire night. Only returning in the morning to untie me. Unfortunately, I’d ended up peeing myself, which he hadn’t been too happy about.

I held the table as I stood up. His eyes moved down my body, pausing on my breasts before he walked toward me.

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