CHAPTER ELEVEN
Amelia
I wake up alone. The lights are out, I’m handcuffed, and the ball gag is back in place. How long have I been out?
After I nearly choked to death, he made me drink more of that vile Pepsi, and of course I passed out again.
It feels like I have lint in my mouth, but even worse, I have to pee. How long has he been gone? Has he just stepped out, or is he out on patrol? Lord. He could be gone for hours. What am I supposed to do until he gets back, stare at the ceiling? If I have to hold it the whole day… but then I’ve done it before. I spent two weeks in my basement, holding it until it was nearly dark, just so I wouldn’t be found.
All the time I spent thinking I was careful, the worry I put into staying out of sight. Pointless. I don’t feel like a survivor at all right now.
My solder never even told me his name. My face flames as I remember what he made me do. I took his cock in my mouth and sucked it dry. I swallowed his sperm. How can anything be grosser than that? I let him do it to me so he wouldn’t kill me, but it’s still disgusting.
But before that, when he ran his tongue down my body, when he used his teeth and lips to tease my breasts, it did feel good. Something in me wanted him to keep doing it. How creepy is that? It makes a sick sort of sense, though. He’s my soldier, the only person I’ve spoken with in years. He’s the only one who’s touched me since I was thirteen. If he walked through that door right now, I’d let him touch me again, just so I could feel it—a connection.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.
I want him to come back even if it means swallowing his sperm.
Silence surrounds me for what seems like hours. The only sounds are my own breaths and my beating heart. I ache, thinking of my Charlie. What if he’s sitting on my pallet waiting to drop his trophy at my feet? How long will he wait for the mama that never comes? If someone finds him… Oh God, what if someone… hurts him?
No. No. I can’t. I can’t think about him or I’ll cry. I’ve got to think about something else.
Pee is an easy focus. What started out as tension in my bladder turns into pressure.
I adjust myself, trying to find a more comfortable position. It’s only when I flip over and turn my body so it’s facing the headboard that the searing pain in my shoulder joints eases. I grip the blanket between my feet and try to tug it upward, but in the end I lie completely exposed.
The temperature drops, and soon I’m shivering.
I wake to hear the door swing wide and then shut. My heart races, and my stomach tingles with excitement. Something clunks on the table, and another item knocks the corner wall. His rifle, if I remember correctly. I pick up the sound of a boot smacking the floor, then another, and catch just a glimpse of his uniformed body as he heads into the bathroom. A moment later a long stream of pee hits the toilet. It makes the pain in my bladder so much worse. He flushes, and then he turns on the water.
I squeeze my thighs together and count to ten.
What the heck is he doing in there?
A few minutes later the door swings open and my soldier strolls into the room in the now familiar gray sweatpants.
“Comfy?” he asks.
My entire body blushes.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve seen it all. I gave you a bath. Your pussy is squeaky clean.”
Oh my God. He said pussy. He touched it. I could die right now.
He chuckles as he reaches high and stretches. Then he takes off my gag.
I swallow, willing saliva back into my mouth. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Sure, you can use the bathroom. But you have to do something for me first.”
“I have to go now. You’ve been gone all day.”
“Well, honey, I have to go to work. Someone has to bring home the bacon.” He gives a lopsided grin as I flinch at the word bacon.
“You need to eat.” He runs his hand down my hip. He pushes me onto my stomach and spreads my butt cheeks wide.
“No!” I try to squirm away, but his grip is so strong I’m sure he’s going to leave bruises.
“Someday soon I’m going to fuck that ass of yours,” he says, kneading my muscles.
“That’s disgusting!”
He shooshes me. “Remember the neighbors.”
He rolls me onto my back and runs a finger down my neck, then grips my breast in a strong hand and pinches the nipple.
He’s not gentle, and I wince.
The corners of his lips lift as he begins to pull off his sweats.
“Please! I have to go the bathroom. I can’t. Please!”
He pauses. “You give me what I want, and then I give you something in return. I’ll let you use the bathroom.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
“But you have to beg me to fuck you, and you have to make me believe you mean it.”
“No!”
He gets up on the bed and crawls over me. I shrink away, but he grabs me by the shoulders and pins me down. He bends low and brushes his chest against mine. Thick, crisp hairs tease my flesh, and my breasts feel fuller, more sensitive. Without meaning to I arch slightly to feel the scrape. Blinking rapidly, he inhales and presses his lips to mine oh so gently. Then with more pressure. I tilt my head up for his next kiss, and this time he forces my lips apart. The first tingle of warmth begins inside my belly, and I whimper. When he tightens his girp, I can't help kissing him back. The man devours me. What he’s doing feels good, so good, and if it were at all possible to pull him closer, I would. I need him.
By the time he lifts his head, his eyes are black as sin. He straightens up onto his knees, draws both hands down my body, and stops just above my privates.
“Will you let me fuck you?”
I go stiff and shake my head.
He leans forward ever so slightly, applying pressure on my bladder.
“Stop,” I beg him. “Please!”
He relieves the pressure for a moment, and then he leans in again and it hurts.
He wants permission. No. I’ve never been so much as kissed before, and he wants me to beg for that? I squeeze my eyes shut. “I won’t!”
With a sigh he straightens and gets up. He retreats to the kitchen, and I hear something pouring into a glass. He returns a moment later and takes a long drink of water. “Want some?”
I lick my lips. My mouth is so dry. I nod.
He helps me sit up a little and holds the cup to my mouth, and I gulp down the entire contents. At least there is something I don’t have to pay for. When I’ve emptied it, he sets the cup on the nightstand, ambles over to the shabby wooden dresser, and pulls out a pair of jeans. He shucks the sweats, and I catch a brief glimpse of his muscular behind as he tugs on the pants. He retrieves a T-shirt, pulls it over his head, and advances on me.
I try to turn my head, but there’s no getting away. He reattaches the ball gag, and then he puts his finger under my chin and looks deep into my eyes.
“I’m going out with the guys. If I come back and find you’ve wet the bed, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”
Horror spiders up my back as I eye the large cup of water I just downed.
When he returns, I’m doubled over in pain. I’m squeezing myself together so hard I’m afraid I’ll explode. He flicks the light on, and I don’t even turn to greet him. He runs his hands over my buttocks, and I don’t flinch. Not even when he frees me from the gag.
“Please,” I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut.
“What’s that?” He puts a finger to his ear as though he didn’t quite catch what I said.
“Please.” I gasp at the end as I feel a small drop of pee leak through my screaming pelvic muscles.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Please what?”
“Let me go to the bathroom.”
“Not good enough.”
He turns to leave.
“Don’t go! Please!”
“What do you want? What’s your name, by the way?”
“Amelia.” My voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear it.
“Amelia what?”
“Please help me. I have to, I—”
“You know what I want. You know.”
“Please, will you…” I lick my lips. “Fuck me.”
I end on a squeak.
“I don’t quite believe you.” He shrugs. “It sounds forced.”
“Please, no, please, I need you! Please!”
He hesitates. He squares his shoulders and disappears into the other room. A moment later he returns with a key. As he leans over me, I catch a hint of alcohol on his breath. My parents didn’t drink much, but my brother used to skim from their liquor cabinet all the time.
Within seconds he has the cuffs off and he carries me to the bathroom. He seems to get I’m incapable of standing at this point; no doubt he’s right. Once he’s set me on the toilet, he retreats as far as the doorway and leans.
I cannot stop. Yes, I care about modesty, but I’ve never felt this bad in all my life and suddenly it’s flowing. I gasp, shut my eyes, and grip the side of the sink. I pee so enthusiastically it almost hurts, but it’s the most unbelievable relief, too. By the time I’ve finished, I’m panting.
“Wow. I have to say, Amelia, that’s the most erotic piss I’ve ever seen.”
I sweep the hair back from my face and glare at him. “What kind of sick bastard watches?”
His expression darkens. “I think we covered this already. I’m the kind of guy your daddy would send to jail. You aren’t the first girl I’ve stalked, and you won’t be the last. Make it good for me, and I’ll make sure you don’t suffer. Much.”
“No.”
He yanks me to my feet and slams my back to the wall, his forearm just under my neck. “It’s too late for no,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re mine, little dancer.”
“I’m not,” I spit, but then I wilt. “But I will be if you do something for me.”
“I already did.” He jerks his head to the toilet.
“I mean really. I’m worried about Charlie.”
Rage settles over his face. “Who the fuck is Charlie?”
“He’s my cat. Please—I don’t even know what to call you—he’s the only reason I’m alive. If it weren’t for him, I’d have died a long time ago. Let me have him.”
The rage in his eyes turns to calculation, and I latch on to hope.
“Bring him to me, alive and well. Feed him and let me keep him, and I’ll do anything you want. Everything you want.”
He studies me. “Anything?”
“Everything. I won’t complain. I won’t disobey you. I’ll… I’ll be anything you want me to be.”
His breathing shallows. He steps back. “Show me.”
My whole body blushes, and I go tense. “I don’t know how to— I don’t know what to—”
“Take off my shirt.”
I squeeze my hands into fists. I can do this. I raise the tee over his body, over his head, and free his arms. There’s that chest again. I imagine it scraping the tips of my breasts, and I blush.
“The buckle.”
My hands shake, and I’m acutely aware of how inept I am as I struggle with his belt. Finally I get it free, and without asking, I pop the button on his jeans.
“Careful with the zipper,” he says, his voice thickening.
I shake as I draw the zipper down. His cock springs free, but I finish with his jeans first. He steps out of them.
What next? I stare up at him. He flicks his eyes to his cock, then back to me.
I get to my knees, brace my hands against his thighs, and trace my tongue over the salty tip.
He sucks in his breath, and I wrap my lips around the head and give it a gentle suck. Using a hand to cup his balls, I trace my tongue over his organ and roll his testicles softly between my fingers. I’m not even sure that’s something he likes until his belly flutters. Taking him in my mouth, I work his penis the way he had me do it last night. I suck it. I lick his shaft and balls; I slide him deeper and deeper into my mouth. I glance up and find him staring down at me.
He makes encouraging little noises, and, emboldened, I take him all the way to the root and suck the base.
He arches his hips. “Jesus.”
I pull back, gasping for breath. He allows that, but a moment later he grips my head and shoves into my waiting mouth. He seems satisfied with shallow thrusts for a while, and I make sure to use my tongue, all the while looking to him to see if I’m doing it the way he wants. I listen to how he responds, and I find he likes it when I run my tongue just under the tip of his cock and then suck.
Fisting my hair, he forces me all the way down on him and holds me there. My eyes water and I gag. I jerk my head free and suck in breath after breath.
It’s so degrading, kneeling in front of him like he’s some kind of god and taking his dick into my mouth. When I no longer feel like I’m going to faint, I go back to him and let him fill me again. This time when I break free, he steps back. He pulls me to my feet and backs me up against the wall. After wiping a hand over my lips and chin, he brings his mouth down on mine in a feverish kiss.
How can he kiss me when I just had his cock in my mouth? It’s so dirty, but his tongue does magical things to mine and I cling to him. It’s like he’s eating me, and my stomach flutters. Something warm and wet seeps between my legs as his hands find my backside and press me to him.
When he bites my neck, I yelp.
He claps a hand over my mouth. Then he grabs me by the shoulders and spins me around.
“Put your hands against the wall,” growls my soldier, and although my heart pounds against my chest and my knees tremble, I do it.
The first of several smacks lands on my backside, and I have to bite back my cries. When he sticks his finger into me, I cringe.
“You’re wet,” he mutters. “Such a good little slut.”
He works his finger up along my folds, and I hold perfectly still, letting him do whatever he wants. I don’t want to like it, but I do. My body responds as though it craves what he’s doing to me. He slides his fingers higher to that place where my pubic hair points. Gently he strokes me, and I throw my head back as waves of want spread through me. He slides his finger back down to my entrance, then up again to that sensitive spot. I can’t help it. I gasp.
With a growl my soldier seizes me by the neck and forces me into the living room and positions me behind the couch.
“Bend over,” he orders me, his voice rasping against the back of his throat.
Trembling, I turn and brace my hands against the back of the sofa. He kicks my feet apart.
“Arch your back, slut. Show me your pussy.”
It’s for Charlie, I remind myself. I arch but sweat pricks under my arms and I want to run, knowing he’s staring at my most private place. This can’t be happening, and yet the nerves down there hum to life.
He comes up behind me and rubs the head of his cock all up and down my juices. Something inside of me aches to be filled, and I spread my legs wider.
Breathing like he’s just sprinted a mile, he positions the head of his cock at my opening, and with one brutal thrust, he stabs into me.
White-hot burning pain seers me, and I cry out. He claps a hand over my mouth. “I told you to be quiet,” he growls in my ear.
He moves deeper until he’s so far inside me I swear he’s up behind my belly button. He begins to shove himself in and out of me just like he did with my mouth. I kick at him and claw at the cheap, raveling chenille to no avail. He’s stronger than me.
I continue to choke back cries as he brings his hands around to grasp my breasts. The combination of searing, god-awful pain between my legs wars with the sweet licking tingle that shoots from my breasts to my core. His balls slap against me, and with each thrust comes another wave of agony. My insides twitch all around him, and he rewards me with a series of moans. I clench my jaw as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, then massages my breasts and twists the tips so artfully I contract all around him.
Grunting, he abandons my breasts and seizes my hips. For a moment I’m suspended on his cock as he pushes up hard. Can’t he tell how much this hurts? Tears stream down my face as I hold on to the back of the couch with all my strength. His assault continues, and I whimper at a particularly deep thrust.
At last he hisses in a breath, lets out a long, guttural grunt, and I feel a series of warm wet surges deep inside me. He groans with each spurt until finally he sags, his body pinning me down against the back of the couch.
“Tell me you love me,” he whispers in my ear.
I swallow back a sob. “I love you.”
Just before he pulls out, he rubs his hands over my breasts and belly. Before I have time to recover he spins me around. His kiss is long and deep as he hoists me up so I’m sitting on the back of the couch. What a distant, unfocused smile. Is he even sane? He spreads me wide and sighs. As though to prove just how far he’s willing to go, he presses his face into my crotch and laps his tongue over my soreness. I hold back a squeal. When he pulls his face away, his mouth, chin, and the lower part of his face are covered with my blood.
He straightens, grips my face, and forces me to meet his eyes. “Ever let a man touch your tits?”
Oh my God! I shake my head.
“You’ve never sucked a cock; that’s evident.”
I bite my lip, but he nods like I’ve pleased him.
“You’ve never had a man fuck your cunt either. I’m your first.”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He bends me back and takes a nipple between his teeth and bites down. I stifle a cry.
“I’m your first man, and I’m the last man you’ll ever take inside you.”
He could snap my neck; I’ll agree to whatever he wants. I nod.
He lifts me off the back of the couch, but I shake so much I stumble to my knees.
I look up at him, and he gazes down at me with something between madness and pride. “You’re mine now.”