Page 2 of In You
I don't want to die.
"You stupid, fucking,broken, cunt!"
I bite a hole through my lip as my skin breaks out in a mist of sweat that's cold because I know it's coming. The horror that follows my orgasm. Bile rises up in my throat as my body heatsup. The Captor, as I now call him, leans down and growls in my still ringing ear as he thrusts harder, faster, making my skin crawl and become itchy. The toy buzzes away between my legs, causing my flesh to become unbearably sensitive. So sensitive I can't fight the impending storm. My nails dig into the rough wool of the blanket underneath me as my mind attempts to rally.
Orgasms used to be so sweet. Like the rainbow after a gentle mist.
Now they mean pain. I may not know much about psychology, but I know enough to understand that the Captor's goal is to rewire my brain. So when he lets me have an orgasm, he flips the switch on me so I now associate pain with the feeling instead of pleasure.
My skin crawls as he chafes the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
"You're going to learn that you can't get away from me, Camilla," he gasps. "Even if it's the last goddamn thing I do."
I thrash my head to the side, fighting it. But he reaches between my legs and turns it up higher, forcing me. Taking my pleasure away from me.
I begin to cry harder, which he loves. But I know I'll never be able to cry hard enough for him to spare me from trying to run away. I could cry my eyeballs clean out of my head and he wouldn't grant me any mercy. The Captor doesn't know the meaning of the word, I don't think.
I pant hard as my traitorous body gives this man what he wants. My nipples harden. My pussy slickens. Even the soles of my stinging feet become hot in preparation for orgasm.
Don't say no. Don't say no. Don't say no,I drill in my head like a mantra.
I flinch and finally open my eyes when I feel his hand lightly caress my forearm until he gets to my right hand. He takes my fingers in a gentle hold and pulls my arm up so it's between us.I shake as sweat begins to bead on my forehead and upper lip, matting my hair to my scalp.
Don't say no. Don't say no. Don't say no.
Finally, my eyes meet his and a different type of pain moves through my body that affects my soul. He's got a sickeninglybeautifulgray stare. One for the ages.
He's Cary Grant handsome with the type of bone structure that's meant for silent black and white movies. My eyes widen in horror as his other hand comes up to join the other. He grasps the first two fingers in his right hand, and the other three fingers in his left beforetenderly caressing the jagged thick scar that circles my ring finger.
He taunted me by half sawing it off my first month here. During an orgasm, of course.
The Captor’s eyes soften as I begin to twitch with my orgasm.
"Mommmyyyyy!"I wail. My watery eyes flicker to the door standing ajar just behind him, but as usual, she never comes."H-Help,"I whimper, staring at the dark hallway, willing somebody,anybodyto come through that door and save me.
He gets an inch from my face and nudges my chin with his. "I love you," he growls, tightening his fingers.
My heart pounds hard in my chest, my mouth opens, and a blood-curdling scream leaves my body as he jerks his hands apart, breaking mine, and then jerks again just to make sure the job is done. Searing pain like no other settles bone deep, traveling up my arm all the way to my shoulder, washing over me like liquid fire.
I turn my head, vomiting all over the blue blanket as he continues to thrust inside me while he holds my broken, limp hand in his.
My name is Tamryn, and I want to live by the sea. Preferably in a kingdom, but a small house will do.
1
Bitter Beginnings
Tamryn
A Year And Three Months Ago
Father'sDay
Walking down the cobblestone sidewalk I hum to myself as the morning breeze flickers my wavy hair against my face and the sun warms my skin just right. I ignore the various families with their dressed-up fathers walking with their kids decked out in their Sunday best, and pause outside my favorite flower shop to gaze in on the display of bouquets and Father's Day cards through the window.
I hesitate for some reason, idling outside of the little shop, window browsing. There's big ones, small ones, even a few cleverly curated gift sets designed to look more masculine. People normally don't celebrate Father's Day with their mother, but I do.
Go inside, you always get mom flowers…
