೦ Anna ೦

 

I try not to think too much as Samael continues to feed me oatmeal with a patience I didn’t expect him to have.

He even places the bowl at my lips, so that I can drink the remaining milk.

It is the only time I fail to prevent the liquid from escaping my mouth, and I do my best to lick up the milk but it already had run down to my chin and out of my reach.

For a second there, I imagine Sam would lick up the rebelling drop of milk, and the thought alone sends my body into overdrive. I tense, my breath turns shallow, and my heart starts to race.

Yet, the worst about it all is that he isn’t doing a thing while I can feel my body heating up and the arousal between my legs increases, as I sense the drop running further down my body.

Before I can stop myself, I’m already pressing my legs together.

Then, as I suddenly feel the edge of the spoon at my chin, my body is in an absolute confusion about whether to relax or not. My attention is glued on that piece of cutlery moving up my body and catching the rebel drop of milk. I expect him to bring the spoon back to my mouth, but he doesn’t.

I can’t possibly know, but I imagine him bringing the spoon he has fed me with to his own mouth to lick it off. I’m a puddle of need.

My body and mind are screaming, as I press my eyes shut and just beg, plead, demand him to close in and kiss me, to suck off the rest of the milk from my lips.

Samael’s thumb on my chin feels like a force of nature as it brushes across along my jaw and chin, up to the corner of my mouth where that treacherous drop fled from. It’s touch jolts electricity through my body, and brings my body back from the dead and so much more. I’m confused, I’m frustrated, and I am consumed by need and longing.

But this is not Sam. This is not the man I thought of when I touched myself to the brink of rapture and beyond. I don’t know what to do.

Although I can’t see it, I know that he has brought back his thumb to his mouth, removing what he had caught from my skin.

I want to groan aloud in frustration.

How could I forget so easily about what had just happened? How could my body demand with every fiber to be taken by him, defiled by him, just because of these lightest of touches?

Sam is standing so close, I can feel the heat of his body radiate down me and my body is sucking it in as if he is the very air I need to breathe to feel alive.

I blame it on my fantasies, of my daydreams, of me lying in my bed, pressing the knuckle of my thumb hard against my clit as I imagined that it was his hand, rubbing me into nirvana. I know how it feels to be touched by someone. I know how hands around my breasts feel, pinching my nipples. But no one has entered me. Not with a hand, or tongue, or cock. This had been all for him, for Sam.

But he does nothing, nothing but licking off the spoon that has been in my mouth. Maybe he doesn’t even realize how intimate that action is.

An indirect kiss.

Suddenly, his thumb is back below my mouth, brushing across my skin once more. Is it intentional or not, that his finger rubs across my lower lip? I don’t dare to move, just close my eyes, and try to figure out what this means.

I leave my mouth open, too scared that closing it might break this spell. Samael’s thumb stops, moves back, and slightly pulls down my lower lip.

His thumb grazes my upper lip now.

What is he doing?

That is when I can feel his thumb against my teeth, stopping its movement altogether.

What am I supposed to do?

Then, he pushes down his thumb against my teeth and I don’t dare to resist him. So, he opens my mouth by lowering my jaw.

It’s not intentional. It has to be a reflex. But I am terrified. My tongue has just acted on its own, moving against the finger that forces my jaw to move down. It is a split second of ultimate terror and after that, I’m completely startled. He pushes his thumb across my tongue.

I want to keep my mouth open, but while my mind is still thinking about that I have to stay still, my body already acts on its own and closes my mouth, my lips gently sucking on Samael’s thumb. And he, he just pulls his finger from my mouth ever so slowly. I can feel his touch right between my legs.

A wave of curse words collapses in my mind.

And then Samael clicks his tongue.

I whimper.

“You are a little whore, aren’t you?” he asks, but Samael’s voice sounds hoarser than it would fit to the reproach in his voice; it’s arousal lingering.

I’ve heard it more than enough.

I’ve heard it from the guys that tried to get into my pants, despite me telling them that I had a boyfriend abroad. But there a thick, breathtaking cloud wafting around him that sucks me in and chokes my mind. I can’t think, and therefore can’t answer. My thirst for his touch is driving me mad. Although he’s not the man I’ve fantasized about, the reality of his touch is so much better than in my dreams.

His touch is so reluctant and chaste, like a kiss of a butterfly, and it makes me want to scream, makes me furious from impatience.

I want his hands all over my body, inside of me, pinching my skin, for him to rake his nails down and across my body, to do with me what pleases him, but I have no idea if the Sam of my naughty dreams was anywhere close to the Samael that now stands before me.

“Answer me,” Samael demands, regaining control over his voice.

“No,” I respond, knowing that it’s the wrong answer, it’s not the one he wants to hear, but the one I have to give.

“What was that?” The ice returns into his voice.

“I’m not a little whore,” I continue. “But I’ll be a whore for you. You just have to ask.”

Silence.

He doesn’t make a sound.

I can’t even hear him breathe.

If I didn’t know that it was impossible, I would believe him to have vanished into thin air. I feel as if he has left me all over again. But there’s still doubt. And because of that, I, myself don’t even dare to breathe, trying to catch this moment by catching my breath.

And then, the world turns upside down and inside out, taking a spin on a rollercoaster, as his mouth collides with mine like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, merging into one mass. Sam’s hand rakes around my head, pulling me even closer, but he’s still staying so far away.

The temperature seems to drop, or I start to burst up in flames as his unbearably soft lips suck on mine as if he’s ready to consume me whole. He’s tearing our mouths open, so we both can gasp for air. I take my chance and snake my tongue into his mouth. It feels so surreal and yet so perfectly natural as his tongue welcomes mine, inviting me in, erasing all my doubt about him, about us, about what has been, and what will be. I forget that I’m still chained, arms up, still naked, only wearing my underwear. I forget what he has done to me. I’m back in my dream of my Sam returning to me and making me his.

That is until his hand moves to my throat and starts choking me.

Instinctively, I pull back and try to gasp for air.

I expect him to say something, anything, to hit me, to scold me, to choke me harder, but he doesn’t. He just pushes me away and that’s it.

That’s it?!

Desperately, I tried to hear his movement, steps, a shuffle, anything, but there’s nothing. Until the heavy metal door suddenly crashes into its frame.

 

⌽ Samael ⌽

 

Temptation is mischief’s sister. Right at the moment when I decide to give her the last drops of milk by pressing the bowl against her mouth; I cannot tear my gaze from, a droplet of milk that escapes her mouth. Anna tries to catch it, but it is already too late. And I am hypnotized, watching it run down her skin that is a little darker than the liquid, it’s like porcelain, so beautiful.

Before the droplet can run anywhere where I can’t reach it with my spoon, I catch it with the cutlery, and a shiver runs through Anna’s body, speaking to me. I do not even notice that I put the spoon into my own mouth to lick it off, or that I put it into the bowl I’m holding in my left hand, before I bring my right hand up to her mouth to remove the remaining milk from her lips. I’m entranced, and now I bring my thumb back to my mouth, sucking off the milk, while I am still watching her reaction.

She’s holding still, her lips parted slightly, leaning towards me as if she is expecting something. As if she wants something. More…

I barely notice that I’ve reached out again and re-draw the curve of her soft upper lip. Her skin is so soft, and even softer on her mouth. Just by brushing my finger across these plump lips a strange tingling runs across my body. It’s something, I have never felt before.

Anna lets me push down her jaw, but then, Anna’s tongue darts out its tip licks my skin. I’m electrified. I can feel that minor touch in every nerve of my body, and my denim starts to become too tight, but I ignore it, as I am too fixated on reliving that sensation, and I move my thumb across her tongue. Again, there is this rush in my veins that reminds me of the ecstasy that explodes inside of me after I have experienced pain.

And then, Anna closes her mouth, slowly. Her lips wrap around my thumb and she suckles on it. I can feel it right down into my pants. I want her to do that down there, right now. I want to rip her remaining clothes off, I want to force her onto her knees, chain her hands behind her body and take her mouth.

I hold my breath.

I compose myself.

And I lash out, sounding softer than I want to.

“You are a little whore, aren’t you?” My voice is hoarse, betraying my resolve, telling me that it’s a lie.

My instinct just knows that she hasn’t slept around and that she is still a virgin. The only one turning her into a whore is me. That thought makes me shudder.

I take away my thumb.

As I notice she is not answering, I order her to do so. Not because I want an answer, but I need to feel back in control again. Since I am threatening to derail.

“No,” she declines and pushes me off my tracks.

I can’t believe what I am hearing, and even less how her honesty and defiance makes me feel. As I want to intimidate, Anna says exactly what I want to hear, before I know it.

Her words strike deep. Her words bring a part of me alive, which I only can’t control in my dreams. It’s right there, taking over my body, my mind, my soul. Want, need, craving, lust. I can’t move, can’t retreat, she has a gravity I can’t free myself from.

Her lips are so soft that they make my eyes water, but it’s her reaction to me kissing her, that has me crying. My hand digs into her hair at the back of her skull and pressed her mouth against mine, harder, as I try to sate a thirst I’ve ignored for far too long.

My body screams at me that it wants more, needs more than just this kiss, but I don’t dare to close in, don’t dare to break this bubble of air inside an ocean.

My mouth opens further and further as I give in to the sensation that is kissing Anna. For the very first time, I taste her lips only, inhale her scent so close that it’s still warm when it enters my lungs. I forget who we are, where we are, what has to happen. And I wonder if it must happen at all?

I should have just knocked on Anna’s dorm room, after I followed her to her college. I wonder if this would have been her reaction, and not the one I had imagined right then, that made me turn around.

Her tongue dancing with mine intoxicates me. My breath turns shallow, makes me choke, my heart is tumbling and my feelings turn darker. They want me to turn her around, and fuck her. I want it so much, but I can’t. I just can’t.

I realize too late that my hand is around her throat, squeezing it a little. Anna holds still, gasping for air just slightly, and I love it. I love seeing her lips parted like that, swollen from me kissing her.

I want her. God. I must have her. God.

I grit my teeth as that thought, this word, turns my burning blood into liquid ice.

What am I doing?

This is not right. This is not what is supposed to happen. That is not why she is here. Anna is not here for me. She is not supposed to be mine. She is here, so that I can break her and she will never leave again.

 

It is my own fault. I know that. I let my guard down. I wanted to be merciful with her, and Anna smelled my weakness and tried to exploit it.

Or did she not?

I must bring space between us, fast.

When I am furious like this, there should not be any living creature in my proximity. Nothing should be close to me. And, therefore I toss the metal door shut with too much force.

The taste of her mouth is still on my tongue, still on my lips, and it creates a raging storm inside of me. This feeling inside. I do not know what it is. But whatever it is, it cannot be anything treacherous. It does not make sense, when all I feel on the outside is pain. The lights, the smell of sunshine, everything. I cannot get the memory of her lips out of my mind, or out of my body.

This… it’s too intense and the memory already fades, turning pale in comparison. Still, every cell in my body demands for me to turn around, go back and get lost inside of her.

But it was forbidden.

My back is still burning, still healing, from the last time I disciplined myself, but that does not change a thing. I am not allowed to touch a woman like that, let alone Anna. And I have kissed her.

It wasn’t an ordinary kiss, either. None of those I have watched or witnessed. This wasn’t a kiss all together. This was different. But, more importantly, she kissed me back, so devilishly, so desperately.

Her words still echo all around me.

I’m not a little whore. But I’ll be a whore for you. I’ll be your whore.

And I know she’s not lying. She is not lying.

No one wants me like this. No one clean wants me. All the women, all the girls of the Church, they feared me, they are terrified of me, or detest me. I am the one to punish them, to make them feel ashamed. Shame is the cruelest weapon.

I never bothered.

Even if I was allowed to marry, none of them would want to, want me. They do not want me close. Not like this. Not like the girls or women from the outside world, the tainted world. They turn around and look after me, in a way no one inside here does. Even men. But no one… no one really wants me. No one apart from Rowena… and Anna is her daughter. But even her, my father’s beloved wife, only wants me for one thing. The sinful thing. Maybe because I am sin.

My fist collides with my chest once, twice, three times and more. I hit myself for as long as it takes me to see the black and blue surface on my skin, but it still is not enough.

I can still taste her.

I can still feel her.

And I still want more.

No matter what my mind, my god-fearing reason tells me, I can still feel her lips against mine, fitting against my mouth as if they belonged there, as if they were made to make me forget, to exorcise my wrath that is feeding on me with every living moment.

“Anna.” I speak her name before I realize it, my hands clamped around the sink of my bathroom as I try to erase her kiss – our kiss –  from my mind.

I fail.

Never was I ever so relieved to fail at something.

Traitor.

All I want to do is run back down there and kiss her again, and ask her to touch me, to love me, like she told me she does.

I let out a scream at the top of my lungs, my fist jumping from my body as if it has a will of its own, shattering the mirror above my sink, the mirror I saw myself in. My hand’s bleeding but I don’t care.

All I can do, all I can think of is what I see in that shattered mirror. This shattered version of myself. It stares back at me and it feels like I see myself for the very first time in a long time. My real self. The person I have become after Anna left. I have truly become my father’s son; the man’s son Anna so despises.

But her opinion of me does not count anymore. Even if it did, there is no way back anymore. The man I was, the man who tried to rescue her, who had dreamed of a life on the outside with her is long gone. He died that night, on that damp grass, from the gunshot wound.

This man, who is staring right back at me, warped through the shards of the broken mirror, is someone Anna will never love. And he is not supposed to fall for her, to be bewitched by her. I cannot allow this to happen again. I must make sure that once she has returned to the church she will not try to tempt me again. It will be easy to make her loathe me. Everyone else does.

 This longing will stop, once I have watched my father defile her. I never feel desire for anything my father has touched and proclaimed as his. As soon as that is done. I will be free.

All that emotion, all that anger, the despair, the need, the temptation, the battle with myself would be over. As soon as Anna had my father’s seed inside of her, she will be nothing to me.

I tell myself that it is nothing but determination that drives me to destroy the remains of the mirror with my bare hands, and not the tearing terror of disgust as I imagine my father to touch her, to lay her bare to him and fuck her in front of me.

After the mirror collapses into a puddle of shards, my glance finds the nine-tailed flogger I used the last time. I cleaned and waxed it, so the water will not be able to ruin it and keep the single tails flexible. Without hesitation, I reached out for it and let the tails run across my palm. This is a vicious instrument.

I look up only to be reminded that I destroyed the mirror, and it makes me ignore my first impulse to use it on Anna. Instead, I reach out and switch on the water.

My mistake. My punishment.

As soon as the hot water rains down on me, I close my eyes, only for my mind to start showing me what I did just moments before. The kiss, her reaction, the sounds she made.

I do not understand what has gotten into me, why I touched her, or licked off the milk from my thumb. Her mouth, her lips, they just turn my mind blank in a way nothing I tried ever did. My mind is never silent, always racing, racing, racing. But touching her, kissing her had made it stop.

I am never impulsive, but I still always listen to instinct; yet, everything was always well thought out. What I did is so unlike me. And that is terrifying.

It had been so worth it. Kissing her. Tasting her.

And it was only scratching the surface. I can only imagine what more might feel like with her.

I yank the flogger around and bring it down on my back. I barely feel it. All I can think about is that kiss. The kiss I always wanted, the taste I always wanted to taste, the reaction of hers that I always dreamt of.

I know that I can’t stop until I will feel the pain. I lost control. I can’t lose it again.

 

೦ Anna ೦

 

After Samael left, all I can think about is my need to follow him, to catch up to him, and force him to stop running from me. I know the door isn’t locked, only smashed close, but I still can’t reach it. For the first time, I’ve been locked up in this cell, I try to get my hands out of the shackles, but they are too tight.

Customized to my size. It’s hopeless.

My body is aching from the position I am in. Hands still above my head, feet bound. But even more so from the need this kiss caused in me.

Our first kiss. And it had been as mind-blowing as I always hoped it would be. Only the circumstances were so different, and so wrong. But he kissed me.

Sam kissed me for the very first time. It hadn’t been just me.

All I did was give in to his touch, and allow his thumb to brush across my lower lip, and open my mouth. I followed his lead.

I can still feel his thumb on my lower lip, as if he’s still touching me. The sensation sneaks all the way down between my legs, and I can’t give myself the release I need.

I groan in frustration.

Should I call out for him?

I’m worried about what Samael would do. He just left me here and ran off, as if this had been a mistake.

I tremble.

Will he punish me because he kissed me?

Will he blame me?

All I did was eat.

Did I do something without noticing it?

I have to distract myself, or I will go insane. So, I start to move up and down on the balls of my feet to relax and stretch my shoulders, and try to do the same with my neck, legs, and arms. That’s when I notice the stench emanating from my underwear, which wasn’t surprising because it had been soaked with the filth Samael had covered me in for countless hours.

The aching creak of metal grazing metal makes me freeze in an instant. Initially, I’m relieved that Samael is back, only to remember that he hasn’t locked the door and what I heard could be anyone.

And because of the blindfold I can’t see who it is. My heart starts racing, following my confusion and panic. Steps follow, heavy steps that yet sound as if the person approaching was walking barefoot.

Why do I still have the blindfold on? It hasn’t any use apart from rendering me even more helpless!

I pushed out a breath of frustration, making sure I don’t make a sound that might cause an unpleasant reaction, or draw attention.

But, these steps were off.

Why do they make me so uncomfortable? Why do I have the feeling that something is wrong?

Is he hurt?

Why would he be hurt?

Has he been found?

Is someone looking for me?

My thoughts race together on what I’ve heard like a murder of pigeons hunting for a breadcrumb.

The sudden sensation of feeling something cool, yet smooth but rigid placed around my neck makes them all drop dead. The sound at my throat as the thing around my neck tightens, reminds me of a belt. This thing is heavier than it should be.

A collar?

It feels about two inches wide, and despite it being so heavy that it has to be made from metal, the sensation against my skin makes me feel it is leather.

I deduce that it is metal but leather has been put at the inside to protect my skin.

A yank on the collar almost makes me lose my balance and fall backwards, but the pull stops as quickly as it had begun.

It’s Samael, but I don’t know if I should be relieved about it.

More steps move away from me.

What is he doing?

As if he answers my question, I first hear the rattling noise of the chain, which assumedly attached to my shackles. Once more my heart speeds up, as I picture Samael pulling on the chain and lifting me up into the air.

But the opposite happens.

Finally, I can place my soles on the ground easily, and with every link audibly sliding across or through the pegs that secure the chain, the tension on my body lessens. I could lower my arms and shoulders, which instantly begin hurting again.

“Turn around,” Samael orders.

I obey without thinking twice and listen to his steps closing in. I hear a snapping sound and instantly feel an additional weight at my neck. Soon after the cold chain touches my back and makes me squeak and jump, but he pulls me back and presses the cold metal against my skin as an obvious punishment.

“Stay,” Samael tells me, his voice devoid of any emotion, but heavy with determination, telling me that I will regret any defiance deeply. “Do not move.”

Samael loosens and removes the ropes around my ankles, and after that he steps around me to remove the chain from my wrists. He takes the shackles, and forces my hands behind my neck, where he attaches them to my collar, just like the other end of the chain. Like this, my hands are useless. I cannot reach the latch of my collar, which is at the front.

“If I see you even move an inch, I will flog the life out of you, am I clear?” For the first time since he’s back there is emotion in his voice; he is being dead serious.

“Yes,” I managed to confirm, and listen to him walking away to retrieve something from beyond the cell and returns.

The entire time I don’t dare to even breathe, while I stay where I am, fighting the instinct to pull on that damn blindfold, which I’m able to touch with my fingers.

Samael is back even before I finish this idea and I relax my hands, so he doesn’t become suspicious. He places something heavy on my head.

It feels like a helmet, which is built to rest on my collar so that it distributes the weight evenly. My breathing is still free, and I can still hear clearly.

The next thing I hear is how three locks are snapped shut, fastening whatever it is on my head to the collar. Samael pulls and shakes it, and it’s not giving in.

What he does next makes me freeze again, and my heart almost stops. Samael is at the back of my head and opens the blindfold, pulling it from my eyes.

It’s dark in this place, but not too dark that I can’t see. The first thing I notice is I’m in fact underground in a cellar room.

The second thing I see is what Samael has put on my head. It’s a cage! Not a bird cage or anything you can get at the store, it looks handmade from one-inch broad metal bands that form a dome around my head.

Instinctively, I want to bring my hands up, but I can’t move them. Even if they were free, I would only be able to touch my face with my fingertips.

Instantly, I think of the kiss. Like this, it cannot happen again. But why was he prepared for this?

I’m about to turn around and confront Sam, when I remember my situation. So instead, I take a deep breath and relax my hands, standing still.

As if he has waited for me to collect myself, he only starts moving again, when I’m completely still. What he does then is what I least expected. Suddenly, my briefs fall to the floor, cut in half. My bra follows.

“Turn around,” Samael orders, but I can’t move.

The entire time I wanted to see his face but now I’m terrified.

“Turn around,” Samael repeats, slower this time, impatience in his voice.