Page 6 of Lost and Bound
I took a step back toward the door.
The rattle of chains gave me warning, but it didn’t matter. Arms like iron bands wrapped around me, and he dragged me back, my feet brushing over the floor as he lifted me right off the ground.
We landed on the pallet, with me sitting in his lap, my back to his chest.
Thrashing in his lap, more like, kicking and trying to slam him with my elbows, knocking my head back in an attempt to break his nose.
Until he got one arm around my torso, pinning my arms, and pressed the other forearm across my throat, hard.
I sucked in air, but black spots swam in my vision and my airway compressed, one tense of his muscles away from being crushed. The arm around my waist pressed down too, trapping me in the cradle of his thighs. He wrapped his legs over mine.
And that was that. I couldn’t move so much as an inch, and I couldn’t breathe, I squirmed frantically, trying to communicate that I was done, I wouldn’t fight any more, he didn’t need to kill me…the door, the cell walls, flickered and blurred as my eyes watered and my vision failed.
The arm across my throat eased up a little, and I gave in. Completely. I went limp, my head leaning back against his shoulder.
A thick, long, and very hard object pressed into my ass.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Something to play with.
I lay in his arms, panting for breath, not quite sobbing. Well, that hadn’t taken long.
What was left of my life probably wouldn’t, either.
He bent his head, inhaling deeply. His hot breath brushed over my ear.
“You want to survive this?” he asked softly.
I let out a whimper.
He chuckled, very low, and I felt it all through me, vibrating my chilled, sweaty skin. His cock against my ass felt like sitting on a metal rod. “I’ll take that as a yes. Tilt your head to the side and hold still.”
What was the point of disobeying? I’d taken my shot. I’d failed.
I tilted my head to the side.
He bent down further, his nose brushing my ear, until his stubble scraped me and his hot mouth pressed against the curve of my neck. I expected something else, a few words, an adjustment in his position or his hold on me. Some kind of preliminary.
So I wasn’t ready when he opened his mouth and tore into my flesh.
It hurt. Not more than anything I’d ever felt, but a lot. I screamed, and only his grip on me held me still after all. His throat worked against my shoulder as he swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed, gouts of my blood pulsing into him.
I writhed, rubbing my ass over his cock and accomplishing exactly nothing else.
The blood flowed, my blood, leaving me weaker and weaker as he gorged himself on my life.
Just as my eyes started to slide shut, the world going dimmer and dimmer around me and my extremities losing sensation, he stopped. His open mouth stayed on the torn wound in my neck, his tongue lapping at me, but he wasn’t drinking anymore and his teeth had withdrawn.
Would I heal, I wondered distantly? Maybe. I blinked slowly, since it was taking extreme effort to lift my eyelids. Probably. That not-healing thing hadn’t lasted long. If he’d taken too much blood, though, I could still die from that. Possibly. I didn’t know. I’d never lost enough to test it.
Would he rape me now? No idea. His cock still pressed insistently between the cheeks of my ass. Did I care?
I blinked again, and what felt like a tear leaked out. Yeah, I cared.
But I couldn’t do anything about it, anyway.
The wound in my neck burned and itched, starting to close over. Well, there was one question answered.
