CHAPTER TEN
Amelia
My shoulders ache. I try to move my arms, but I can’t. There’s something weird in my mouth too.
When I open my eyes, the room spins, and for a minute I feel like I’m going to vomit.
I blink against the bright electric light. Even though my legs are free, my hands aren’t and they’re filled with pins and needles. Oh my God. Frantically I search with my fingers, and I find metal. Handcuffs.
Someone gagged me, handcuffed me, and tied me to a strange bed. I can’t get enough air. Who did this to me? Are they here?
I hear a creak and I stiffen.
I still can’t catch my breath, and I begin to see spots.
The only person I can rely on is myself. The only person I can rely on is myself.
If I make a noise, whoever it is will come. Struggling to get my breath under control, I try to pull my hands through the cuffs, but they’re secure. I pull as hard as I can, knowing I must be hurting myself, but I don’t even feel it. My feet are free, so I turn over, wrenching my shoulders in the process, and get a good look at the solid metal frame of the bed. Then I roll back over and the blanket slips. For the first time I realize I’m naked. This can’t be happening. It can’t!
Footsteps smack against the floor in the outer room, then reduce to the moan of floor underneath carpet.
My breath comes in rasps, and I fix my gaze on the doorway. It’s coming. It’s coming.
I wheeze against the ball—yes, a ball—strapped between my lips.
A figure moves into the doorway. Short dark hair, the ghost of a beard, and dark, dark brown eyes. His chest expands in a deep breath, and he settles against the doorjamb.
It’s my soldier, and the hunger in his eyes is unmistakable.
“It was the Pepsi,” he says quietly. His voice is husky, rough, like the words scrape against his throat. “Tough to get, by the way. But I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. All those pictures of me. He’s been watching.
He sits beside me, and with a whimper I open my eyes. He’s wearing a pair of loose gray sweatpants and nothing else. I’ve actually never seen a man’s body. Well, when I was little and we’d go to the beach, I’d see men in swim trunks, but back then I saw them through a child’s eyes.
His body is well muscled, and his chest is covered with thick, black hair. A thin line of the stuff travels down his stomach and then broadens again just before disappearing under his waistband.
“Why?” But I’m gagged. Double gagged, and all that comes out is a muffled umph.
He brushes the hair back from my face, and he runs his gaze up and down my blanket-covered body.
“That first day I saw you, I’d only been here a week. Our orders were specific—shoot everyone. Cleanse the city of the cannibal element.”
I shake my head. I’m not a cannibal.
“You were dancing.” He strokes my hair, and then brings a lock of it to his nose. He sniffs. His eyes close for moment, and then he lets it drop back against my breast. “I never was into that kind of thing—opera, ballet. But looking at you was like looking at the last living human. The rest of us are animals, but you… damn.”
He stares into my eyes, and the darkness in them pulls at me. When he runs his hand over my cheek, I jerk my head away. I shake.
“I had my hand on the trigger, and I was getting ready to fire when you looked up at me.”
He leans in and inhales the scent of my neck, presses his lips to the spot just below my collarbone.
“I couldn’t kill you. Not then and not after. I’ve been watching you for over a month.”
I flick my gaze toward the living room.
His lips twitch. “Yes. Even in your home.”
Oh God. What is he going to do? My breath goes erratic, and I struggle for control.
Abruptly he gets to his feet and leaves the room.
I try to suck in air, but I can’t. If he can’t kill me and he’s got me tied to his bed, then what is he going to do to me? I squeeze my eyes shut as my whole body convulses in sobs.
The soft patter of his feet returns, and the mattress depresses again. I fling my eyes open to find him fixated on me. He balances a bowl of what looks like cereal on his knee, but with his other hand he catches one of my tears and traces it back up my face. The bulge between his legs thickens.
I shrink away, and he removes his hand.
“Here’s the deal, little dancer. I’m a sick fuck. You’re not the first girl I’ve hunted, and I doubt you’ll be the last. I tried putting you out of my mind. I tried staying away from you, but I can’t. So here you are.”
I shake my head. It doesn’t make sense.
“If you scream,” he says softly, “you’ll bring the whole building down on you. A couple dozen men, some horny enough to fuck you, but none of them will think twice about killing you. The cannibals are abominations to people like us.”
“I’m not a cannibal!” But my words come out like garbled junk.
He nods. “I know that. I’ve been watching you, remember? You ate a rat, but you wouldn’t even touch the meat I left out for you. Doesn’t make much sense unless you’re afraid to eat what you can’t prove isn’t human.”
Still shaking, I nod. I feel ashamed of the rats, but I shouldn’t. It’s how Charlie saved me.
He sets the bowl on a nearby table.
“This is how it’s going to work. I’m going to take the gag off you. If you scream, you’ll be dead in five minutes. I promise you that. I won’t even have to do it myself. Understand?”
I blink my agreement.
He reaches behind me and unties a cloth. He drops that and undoes the fastening that holds the ball in my mouth. He carefully sets that aside as I work my jaw.
“No screaming, right?”
I shake my head. “Why?”
Rather than answer me, he picks up the bowl, scoops a tiny portion of what looks like oatmeal, and holds it in front of my mouth. The smell fills my head, and I go dizzy. I don’t even think. I open my mouth, and he plops it in. I close my lips around the spoon, wiping it clean.
Savoring it is impossible. I’m hungry. So hungry. I swallow.
He draws the blanket down, revealing my breasts, and he cups them in his large, warm hands and begins to massage them.
“No!” I try to pull away, but I’m chained.
He sighs. He retrieves the bowl, gets to his feet, and saunters toward the doorway.
My stomach is so, so hollow, and I shake. I ate a piece of bread last night, and I drank my downfall, but other than that I haven’t eaten in days.
“Wait!” My voice cracks.
He turns, his eyes questioning me.
I can’t let him leave. “I’m hungry.”
He lifts one cheek in a smile and returns. He settles down next to me and feeds me another bite. I swallow.
He sets the bowl aside, takes the tip of the closest breast in his mouth and runs his tongue over my nipple. It’s warm and soft, and it sends tingles deep under my skin. Heat fills my cheeks as I hold still, allowing him to do what he wants. It feels good, what he’s doing. What’s wrong with me?
He retrieves the bowl and feeds me another spoonful. I’m shaking and I hate him, but it’s a strange sort of hate. He’s the only person who’s shown me any kindness in years. I know it’s wrong, but I want him to touch me. I’m starved for it.
He samples the other breast. He’s so close to me that I smell him. Clean, a light sheen of fresh sweat, and something I don’t recognize. Whatever it is, my body reacts like it’s something it desperately craves. He sucks lightly on my nipple and pulls his lips free. He does it again, this time with more enthusiasm. Each pass leaves behind a sharp tingle of pleasure.
I don’t understand. I’m breathing heavily now. This time when he straightens, he inhales deeply, expanding his chest. After another bite of the oatmeal, he kisses his way down my midsection. When he tongues my belly button, I shudder.
“Good girl.” He sets the bowl aside, stands, and removes his sweats. He’s not wearing anything underneath, and for the first time in my life I see a man’s, ah, penis.
I tremble. It’s long, it’s thick, and its base is covered with more of that thick, dark hair. It stands tall and stiff. If I wasn’t sure what he wanted before, now I’m certain of it. I catch my voice on a sob.
His nostrils flair, and the thing twitches. He reaches for the bowl of cereal, and this time it’s an entire half spoonful. He holds it in front of me and cocks his head. “You have to do something for me, now.”
I eye the spoon. I dart a glance at his—I can’t say penis—his man thing, and more tears flow. I don’t answer him, but when he places the spoon to my lips, I hesitate only for a moment before I open my mouth.
I don’t really know much about what a man and woman do together. It involves the man sticking his thing into the girl, and it’s supposed to feel good. My soldier sets the bowl down and climbs over me, but instead of settling his thing down at my girl parts, he straddles my chest. He strokes himself. “Suck me off.”
I draw a blank. “What?”
“You will suck me off, or you’ll get no more food.”
“I…” I swallow. “I don’t know what that means.”
He shudders. His chest rises and falls faster now. “Then lick it. Start from the base and slide up to the tip.”
He can’t be serious. “With my tongue?”
He seems to find my shock funny. “Particularly with your tongue. I want you to open those pretty little lips of yours, stick out your tongue, and stroke my cock.”
He flicks it against my lips once, twice, and smirks.
I haven’t eaten in days. I won’t eat again unless he lets me.
Tentatively I tilt my head forward and touch my tongue to the base of his…of his cock. He leans into me, and I trace it all the way up to the tip.
“Again.”
When I do, I catch that scent again, only stronger. It’s, I don’t know, animal. Beast. Cock.
“I want you to wrap your lips around the head and suck. Just like I did on your tits. Then I want you to swirl your tongue around me.”
He pees with that thing.
I eye him, and he raises his eyebrows. “If you touch me with your teeth, I’ll beat you senseless.”
I take a deep breath. My body is so tense it could shatter, but when he presses the tip of his cock to my lips, I open. I press my tongue to him, and I suck.
He sighs.
I suck again, and I swirl my tongue over the tip like he asked me to. He’s a little salty, as though he’s been sweating.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”
He pushes himself farther into my mouth, and he’s so big my jaws ache from the stretch. I’m afraid I’ll touch him with my teeth and he’ll beat me, so I do my best to insulate him with my tongue. He grabs my head between his hands and begins to pump his hips.
“Work your tongue,” he pants. “Do it.”
I’m not sure what he wants, but I do my best to slide my tongue over him. He pushes that thing ever farther back into my throat. When I gag, he stops. Panting, he grits his teeth, pulls out of my mouth, and reaches for more cereal.
“You’re doing a good job. Keep it up and I’ll let you have the whole bowl.”
“I don’t understand,” I say just before he pushes the spoon between my lips.
He sets the bowl down and settles himself over me again. “There’s nothing to understand. You’re mine now. Whatever I tell you to do, you do it. If you defy me, you don’t get any food. If you make noise, or do anything stupid like use your teeth, I’ll beat you. If you try to escape, I’ll kill you. Those are the rules.”
I suck in my breath, and he uses the opportunity to press his cock between my lips again.
“Tongue.”
I swirl my tongue against him and use my lips to caress him. When I look up, I find him staring down at me, this feral look in his eyes. He’s the hunter, I’m the prey, and I can do nothing about it. He pumps my mouth, shoves my face all the way down until my nose is in his pubic hair. I gag.
“Oh yeah.”
I hover air into my lungs as he withdraws, but not long enough for me to catch my breath before he to shoves himself back in me again. The whole thing is a perverted variation of "lather, rinse, repeat.” He uses my mouth, I tongue, I accept him back so far I gag, and he lets me come up for air.
At one point he lifts his cock and strokes it. “Suck my balls.”
Really? They’re coated with pubic hair, but I’m not sure what he’ll do to me if I disobey. I run my tongue over the first side and suck. I do the same with the other, and he groans.
After he gets tired of that, he fists my hair and yanks my head back and shoves his cock back into my mouth. I suck the tip, draw my tongue up his length, and take him between my lips.
I must be doing okay, because he groans and says, “Good girl.”
More hard thrusting. The only sounds are his groans, my whimpering, the slap of his cock and the gagging noises I make. That and the wheezing I’m permitted between assaults.
He grits his teeth. “When I come, you’re to swallow it. Understand?”
I don’t, but I nod.
I take him into my mouth again, swirl him like he taught me, and let him shove that cock of his back, back, back to the gag. His breaths come faster, and he tilts his pelvis farther into me. He’s almost frantic in his movements.
“I’m coming,” he groans. “Suck it. Suck!”
The first spurt of his sperm catches me by surprise, but I swallow it. Groaning, he releases a long stream, and it’s too much. Too much. I gag, and some of it spews out the corner of my mouth. He glares at me, I try another firm suck. This draws one final groan from him. He squirts one more squirt, and I swallow. After one final squirt, he rests his hands on the headboard and catches his breath.
He leans back and wipes the wetness from my chin. “Good girl.”
I’m completely unprepared when he smacks me.
I gasp and erupt in tears. Huge snotty sobs that I try to suppress, but I can’t. He yanks on his sweats and settles back down in his chair. Like nothing happened, he retrieves the bowl and brings another spoonful to my mouth.
I twist my head away.
He frowns. “Eat.”
I refuse to look at him. My whole body shakes with the force of my emotions.
The spoon clatters into the bowl. “That was the agreement. You do as I say; I let you eat. Now eat.”
“No.” If I try to eat now, I’ll vomit.
With a muttered curse he grabs a chunk of my hair and forces me to look at him. “You will do whatever I say, and that includes eating when I tell you to.”
With his other hand he scoops up a spoonful and shoves it between my lips, but I clench my teeth. After delivering another smack, he uses the shock of the moment to shove the stuff past my lips. Then he presses his hand over my mouth and nose, cutting off my air.
His message is clear. Eat, or he’ll kill me.
I struggle against him, and as the seconds pass I get more and more desperate. I try to suck in air, but there isn’t any, and instead I suck the oatmeal back into the wrong pipe.
I choke. His grip doesn’t lighten, and the gob of cereal lodges in my windpipe. I struggle, but I am the mouse fighting the cat. By the time he finally frowns and pulls his hands away, I’m beyond panic and my eyes feel like they’re going to explode.
The soldier flips me over and pounds between my shoulder blades. Please! I claw at my throat, the sheets, the metal slats of the headboard, but nothing helps and I begin to see fuzzy black splotches. Help me!
Hauling me up against his chest, the man folds his hands together and pretty much pounds me under my ribcage. It isn’t until his third try that the gob erupts up my throat and out of my mouth.
“Shit!” His voice shakes. When he finally lets me go, I collapse onto the bed, half-crying and half-wheezing as I suck in gulps of air.
“Shit,” he says again as he climbs off the bed and stalks away.
“Shit.”