Page 32 of Writhe
She goes pale as she comes on his cock. Her legs shake against the desk as she rides out her orgasm. She cries out, but not in pleasure, in a soft whimper of distress. “No. Theo. Please. Make him stop.”
“Goddamn, you’re choking my cock. So good for your master. I will break you in since Theo wants to go soft on you.” He rams his cock into her with such forcethat her weak thrashes do nothing. His palm presses against the small of her back. Keeping her still against his desk. The metal screeches as it moves against the tile floor. He forces her to the edge, playing with her clit like she’s nothing more than a toy. She comes again, tears falling off her cheek. “You’ll thank me, pet,” he purrs. “Thank me for letting you come twice on my fucking cock.”
He slams into her again. And again. The force is bruising.
“Now, Eliza. I won’t stop until you thank me and then I will fill this cunt up.”
“Give him what he wants, Eliza, and he will stop!” I yell out to her.
She wails, “Thank—” She hiccups through a choked sob. “You.”
“For what?” He slaps the side of her cheek with enough force to leave a mark.
“For making me . . . come, master. Please . . . come inside . . . me.”
He chuckles, his thrusts wavering as he chases his release. “That’s my good little pup.” He groans. “I’m coming.”
His orgasm comes in spurts as he moans, filling her up like he said. Like he promised.
“You can’t do that!” I yell. What kind of monster is he? Is this what true domination is? Is this what he wants me to do to her?
He looks over at me, slowly pulling out of her pussy. Eliza stares blankly past both of us. She’s retreating intosome dark place in her mind, and I hope she finds peace there for a moment. “If I want my pet to carry my litter. She will do that.”
After stuffing his cock into his pants, he walks away from both of us and into his private bathroom before closing the door. Eliza crumbles onto the ground in a shaking mess, her arms wrapping around herself so tightly. She rocks herself slightly. I take a step forward, but she flinches so violently it stops me dead in my tracks.
My throat tightens.
I broke her.
Not him.Me.
I force myself to breathe, but it feels like I’m inhaling glass, sharp and painful, slicing me apart from the inside. My hands are still clenched into fists, but I can’t feel them anymore, can’t feel anything except the sickening weight of what just happened, of what I let happen.
“Eliza,” I say, or maybe I just think it because she doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge me. She’s curled into herself, her face hidden, her body shaking with the aftermath of it all. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do. There’s nothing I can do.
I sink to my knees, a few feet away from her, not reaching for her this time. I don’t deserve to touch her.
The silence stretches, until finally, I find my voice.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, the words scraping past my throat like they hurt to say.
She shifts just enough so I can see her face. Her eyesare bloodshot and unfocused, her lips cracked and parted. She looks at me, really looks at me, and I wish she wouldn’t, because what I see in her gaze makes my stomach drop.
“You liked it. You liked watching me break for him,” she whispers through a choked sob. I look down and find my cock fully erect. What the fuck is wrong with me?
And I can’t even defend myself.
Because she’s right.
My hands won’t stop shaking. My teeth chatter, even though it isn’t cold. My chest rises and falls too fast, like my lungs are trying to expel something that isn’t there. I stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster. One. Two. Three. Breathe. Don’t think. Don’t feel. But my skin is crawling. I can still feel them. Still feelhim.
My throat is raw, every swallow a scrape of fire. My body aches, bruises blooming beneath my skin like rot. I feel hollowed out, gutted. There’s a gaping wound inside me where something used to be. I don’t know what it was, but it’s gone now.
I dig my nails into my palms, pressing until the skin splits—until warm blood wells up between my fingers.It’s the only way to silence the phantom touch still lingering on my body. My flesh still tingles where they—he—held me down.
I thought Theo would protect me.
That’s the part I can’t reconcile, the thought that loops in my head like a broken reel of film. He was supposed to be different.
