Page 132 of Buried in Blood
Five.
I feel warm liquid running down from where the belt hits. Blood.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
The sting is gone. I feel numb. Nothing can break me.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleven.
I lose count. My ass is bleeding badly from the impact. Tears roll down my face.
“I love it when you bleed for me.”
He rubs his hand over my ass, coating it in blood. He glides the blood over his cock before he rams it into my pussy. My walls clench, unable to remember the last time he used that hole.
It burns as he glides his blood coated cock in and out of me. I cry. Nothing is worse than this. Nothing.
So tomorrow, I will do what I have to do…
* * *
The rest of the night is a blur of sound, skin, and salt.
When it’s over, I lie curled on the bed, eyes unfocused, the sheets tangled beneath me like ropes. Covered in blood and cum. Fucking gross.
He doesn’t kiss me.
He doesn’t comfort.
He just dresses, walks to the bathroom, and washes the blood from his hands like I’m something he scraped from beneath his boot.
The room is quiet again.
But the silence doesn’t soothe.
It suffocates.
I close my eyes and pretend I’m not here.
That Reese is real.
That the key in my bag still leads to something better.
That my body is still mine.
That I didn’t beg for a way out and end up buried deeper.
37
Harmony
