I think about you while he rapes me.
Yes, I’m finally able to actually write the word. I knew it. In my head. And in my heart. All along that’s what he’s been doing. That’s what it’s called. When a man forces himself inside a woman no matter how much she cries. How much she begs him not to. How much she screams for him to stop. And he doesn’t.
He never stops.
But that word makes it real. Which it is—was—tonight. Last night I guess. He’s still downstairs celebrating with his friends. Partying with your enemies who he forced me to parade around naked in front of so they could see his brand on my back. His collar around my throat. His ring on my finger. Not delicate and beautiful like the one you gave me and his men yanked off my finger when they grabbed me. No, it’s an ugly, disgusting, horrible blood red diamond to represent his ownership of me. Of him stealing me from you. Of him winning.
Then they watched. They watched him rape me. They watched him bend me over the whipping bench and jam his dick inside me. They watched him rut into me over and over, pulling out at the last second to yank my head back and release himself all over my face.
Then they cheered.
They cheered louder when he waved a blindfold into the air and asked who’s next. All I could hear was the adamancy in your voice when you told me that you can’t even stand for another man to look at me let alone touch me.
How no one but you would ever earn my pleasure.
And then he offered me to a room full of men who hate you.
I think that was my breaking point. I really do. My muscles have been coiled so tight for the past three weeks and with those words all my strength seeped away. Slack with exhaustion I couldn’t hold myself up anymore and collapsed to the concrete. Slick and slimy and sticky from my sweat and his cum. Damp and broken, the hope I’d carried like a shield to protect my sanity was too heavy to bear any longer. The faith I used to temper the relentless screaming in mind floated away. As if every belief I held onto so I could survive started to unravel inside me. A flood of darkness that I eagerly welcomed and hoped to drown in before they touched me.
Until I heard a voice.
Loud, deep, and angry. Not you, as much as I prayed and wished and dreamed for it to be yours. But still furious, and the thick accent—Russian I think—was almost too strong to understand. But I did. He did. They all did. Ordering him to stop. Let me be. Reminding him that they came here to plan the next step of your downfall not witness a child being abused like an animal. I was so appreciative I didn’t even care he mistook me for a kid. I guess as scrawny and beat down as I am now, I look younger than I am. But the best part was he listened. Shocking me for the first time since he stole me from you that he actually obeyed someone else.
I never even got to say thank you to the stranger. My savior among the demons. I was just jerked to my feet and whisked upstairs by one of his men after the snap of his fingers. I’m not sure how I can ever repay his kindness but I hope someday I can. To let him know I survived another day because of his kindness. Because of the mercy he won for me. At least for tonight.
Later I might regret his pity. I’m terrified of what will happen when they all go home and he comes back up here. I know he’ll be drunk. It’s pretty sick for me to hope he’s in a good mood and will fuck me in bed before he passes out. How horrifying that my life has degraded to the point that him raping is the best option I have to wish for him when he punishes me from the clemency I received. When I know how much worse it really can be and I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t think I can survive it again.