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This means nothing to me.
Nothing? The strange, electric connection between us? Our closeness?Me?
At some point I’d grown soft, deciding that he'd given up on his quest to strip me of everything and deliver the torment he’d once promised. I thought things changed– that we were different. That there was even an…us.
But it seemed his efforts were renewed and the devilish smirk on his face was only the beginning.
He let my head drop only to let me watch as his hand dropped to the bulge between his legs. He rubbed himself through his clothes, his big hand gripping and flexing around the thickness. I hated the way my body reacted to it– a bolt of electricity ripped through my spine, and the root of it came from deep in my core.
“You like what you see, cariño?” He was teasing me, and I bit my lip to keep from cussing him out again. I was in no position to make him angrier and there was another part of me that stifled a needy moan. “I didn’t know you would be such a willing little slut. So eager to please me.”
I didn't answer, didn't give in to his baiting.
“You took your father’s words to heart.” His eyes narrowed and my heart wrenched. Calling me a slut, saying I listened to my father’s words? He was trying to say I slept with him to keep myself alive– like I’d tossed away my own dignity in favor of pleasing him. He’d been furious after that conversation, promising I wouldn’t speak to my father again, and now he threw it back in my face like it was exactly his plan all along. My body felt leaden against the chair.
“How could you?” I asked. My voice was low and pained like my clenched throat barely allowed the words to escape.
His lips pulled into a smirk, “how could I what? Be cruel? It’s how I was raised, Darya. And that’s the root of the problem…that you thought you were ever special.”
“Fuck you,” I said again, knowing it was what got me in this trouble in the first place. I’d meant it then and all he’d done was driven the message home.
“Mm, that little mouth of yours needs to be punished,” he turned toward the table. Fear washed over me like icy water, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. There was a primal glimmer in his eyes– like he got off on the scent of my fear.
His cruel fingers danced along the wooden table, bouncing over each item. His eyes focused on me, studying my winces and shudders until his fingers flitted across a massive knife. When I hissed, he picked it up. “You don't like this one?”
“Yuri…” my voice cracked, the dread thickly coating my throat.
“I like when you say my name,” he rasped. “And I like that mouth.” He put the tip of his finger to the edge of the knife and twisted it in his other hand until a drop of red pooled beneath the blade. “But I love the way you look when you suck on my fingers.”
In front of me once again, he gripped my cheeks until my lips puckered open. “Suck,” he ordered as his bloodied finger pressed inside.
The metallic taste burst against my tongue, the familiar warmth of his finger filling my mouth. It was an invasion– but I followed orders, swirling his finger deeper until the taste of blood faded. He pulled it out with a pop. “Good girl. You have such a pretty mouth.”
I gulped down the fear before it could choke me.
He pointed the knife at me, and I winced. “Are you afraid of knives baby?”
I shook my head. No matter how much my insides were screaming to get far away from the blade, I was more afraid of admitting how scared I really was because I knew he would use it against me.
“You don't trust me?” I drank in his accented words.
“Yuri, please don’t do this,” I begged again. He surged forward and wrapped his hand around my throat, squeezing lightly to let me know just how easy it was for him to silence me.
“The time for begging will come,” he said, “but for now, I don't want to hear your voice. If I do,” he continued, the knife glinting in front of me as he turned it over inches from my face. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly filling with saliva. “I'll have to use this.”
“Yuri, let me go!”. I sucked in a breath when he dragged the dull side of the blade against my cheek in a warning.
“What did I say?” His lips pulled over his teeth and I knew this would be the last chance to obey. I nodded, afraid to make a sound.
He chuckled and sidestepped, but just as before, I was keenly aware of every move he made. My skin prickled in his direction as if calling to him, yearning for his touch. My body instinctively wanted him– desired his scent on my skin, his lips on mine, and all his brutal attention.
He waited like that. Let me sit there, deep in my thoughts, on display. After what felt like an hour, my legs were burning, and trembles racked through me while waiting for him to make his first move.
The fear that had clawed its way into every part of me slowly dissipated into a needy heat. I couldn't explain the way I throbbed for his touch. I wanted him to unshackle me and make the first move, I didn't want to wait anymore. Whatever he had planned to do to me, whatever brutal way he decided to teach me this lesson– now was as good as ever. When he finally decided I’d waited long enough, he stepped forward and looped his fingers through the waistband of the sweatpants at my waist.
He pulled the soft fabric down until my ass was bared to him. He let them fall until they pooled around my knees on the chair and a single finger slipped down my spine. I arched, looking to get away from his simple touch but sinking into its sensuality. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere hide from him. And as he pressed his hips against my ass, his erection offering a sliver of delightful pleasure just where I needed it most, I could tell just how much he enjoyed seeing me this way. He was a sick fuck– and I was soaked.
“You’re dripping for me, baby.” I felt a tug at my shirt and with a rip, a cool breeze enveloped my torso. My nipples hardened against the metal of the chair and suddenly, I was completely naked before him. “I can feel your heat.”
