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They won’t do this for long, though. They’re just trying to get back at me. It’ll only be a few minutes.
But a few minutes comes and goes, while the vibrator buzzes merrily inside of me, bringing me close to climax despite my rising panic. I’m gasping for breath, realizing just how limited the air is in here, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s going to run out. I see thin circles of light—air holes, I guess—but my fear is starting to overwhelm me.
Stay fucking angry!
But how can I stay angry with that vibrator inside of me, pressingjust rightto make me get closer to the edge.
The first time I climax, I scream in defiance.
The second time, as the waves of pleasure roll over me, I cry out in pleasure.
The third time? I don’t even know what sounds I’m making.
But pleasure is better than panic.
All of a sudden, the vibrator shuts off, and I’m left panting and sweating, breathing heavily in that confined space. Okay. I’ve dealt with it this long, and I’m fine. I can deal with it for longer.
The lightfrom the air holes disappears. I can’t tell how long I’ve been in the trunk already, only that it’s been too long. I want out. I plead again, my voice hoarse, but nothing happens.
I imagine Victor forgetting about me and dying of thirst. How long can a human survive without water? I can’t even remember the last time I had a drink.
Or the house could burn down, with me still in this trunk, smoke filling my lungs while I’m trapped.
Or Victor delivers me to Pavone, a nice little present to seal some fucking mafia deal.
I start sobbing quietly to myself. “Please,” I say, although I doubt Victor can hear me through the trunk. “Just let me out. Please. I won’t do it again.”
At some pointmy exhaustion catches up to me, and I drift off, startling awake each time and knocking my knees and elbows against the trunk. My mouth is dry and my body aches all over. I can smell my own sweat.
I also, I realize, need to piss really badly.
Even imagining pissing myself in the trunk makes my body heat with humiliation. Tears build in my eyes again. I can’t handle this. “Please, Victor!” I shout. “I have to pee!”
I don’t know if he hears me, or if he cares. But if I don’t say anything at all, I’ll end up wetting myself.
All I can do is hope Victor won’t want to clean the trunk if I have an… accident.
I start counting my breaths, just to give myself something to focus on. Something that isn’t the discomfort of the vibe or the burning of my bladder. Something that isn’t just exactly how confined I am.
I’ve reached the seventies when the trunk lid opens, and I sob in relief.
Victor looks down on me, his expression still cold and hard. Unreadable. I don’t know why I thought I could ever figure him out. He isn’t a regular man; he’s a monster through and through.
But he’s still my savior in this moment. I take a large gulping breath and wait for him to do something. I don’t want to set him off again.
Victor reaches down to grab my arms and help me sit up. It’s such a relief to be in a different position. I pray that he’s done with his cruel games.
I still can’t understand him when he speaks, but he wipes the corners of my eyes. After that, he opens a water bottle and holds it up to my lips. If I were stronger, maybe I would have turned my head away, but I’m so thirsty. I drink and drink, Victor tilting the bottle higher and higher, until I can’t keep up with the flow. The water spills over my mouth and down my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, lowering my head. “Thank you.”
I can’t believe I thanked him, but I’ll do anything to stay in his good graces.
Victor pulls his phone out to send a text. To Angelo or Saint, I hope, because they can help me. Saint will see my pathetic form and feel sympathetic. Angelo will get so turned on by my tears that he’ll want to fuck me.
After the text, Victor reaches into his pocket, and the vibrator starts up again. I moan and squirm. Between the water I drank and the vibrations, I’m suddenly even more aware of my bladder. He can’t—he can’t mean to make me piss myself. Except it’s Victor. He’s capable of anything.
“Please don’t,” I beg. “I don’t want to—”
