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“Then what the fuck are you doing with them?”
Those last words rip me out of the daydream. I come to lying on my stomach again, a sickening ache between my legs. When I shift, trying to push myself up, a lock of dry hair slides over my cheek and hangs in my eyes.
A hand delves into my hair, grabbing, hauling my head up. I stare at Red through lashes fluttering in pain.
“That’s my good dolly,” he murmurs, and for some sick, twisted reason, my skin warms at his words.
The air is filled with the scent of vanilla and cum and my own arousal. I should close my legs, but then he’d be mad at me. I don’t want that.
You don’t wantanyof this.
That voice isn’t mine. But who—?
Fyre.
Nausea swells in my stomach. Red’s eyes flinch, and then he’s dragging me over the bed. I spot a waste basket lined with a trash bag an instant before I’m puking into it.
A warm washcloth strokes my face, cleaning my lips and chin. Red brings a bottle to my trembling lips, tipping cool water into my mouth.
“There you go. Now make sure you wash out all that puke, little dolly. Someone’s going to want to choke you with their cock soon, and I can’t have you getting vomit all over them.”
Every atom of my being is yelling at me to be compliant, to bide my time until I have my strength—my willpower—back. But I can’t handle how pathetic and weak and subservient I feel when he says that.
My eyes narrow, and I dredge up every atom of willpower I still have left to croak out, “Fuck. You.”
Red stands so slowly, so casually, that I think I’ve won. I even manage a small, victorious little smile. But then his hand goes to his belt, and my mouth dries as he carefully unbuckles his belt.
He doesn’t say a word.
But he doesn’t have to.
The vicious light in his eyes tells me exactly what’s about to happen. I try to get my legs up, to crawl away over the bed, but he catches my ankle and simply drags me back. I yell out a wordless protest a moment before a strip of fire sears over my left ass cheek. The crack of his belt meeting my flesh is too loud, like a technicolor scream.
“Please, stop, I’m sorry, please, please,please!”Each wailed protest seems to only spur him on. Fire licks at my skin as he rains down abuse all over my delicate skin. Ass, thighs, calves, even the side of my breasts as I struggle to escape him.
Then I’m just lying there in a whimpering heap of seared flesh, my body trembling, my teeth clenching as I fight the sobs wrenching through me. The belt clanks to the bed beside me. Gentle hands grasp my shoulders, turning me onto my back, forcing a howl of pain from me as my welted skin scrapes over the embroidered comforter.
Red drags me to the edge of the bed, ignoring my pitiful sobs.
“Why do you force me to punish you, dolly?” Red asks as he sinks to his knees between my legs.
My tattered breath sounds too loud after that quiet murmur. The world blurs and then clears as I blink at him, dumb with shock. He cups my face, hands hot from his wrath.
His hand slides around my throat, and he leans in, bending my back until my arms shoot out behind me to try and stop him from snapping my spine. His other hand goes between us, shoving into the apex of my legs, his fingers digging through my flesh until he finds my engorged pussy lips.
He thrusts multiple fingers inside me, forcing a pained rattle from my constricted throat. Then his eyes move to my mouth, watching transfixed as he starts fingering me.
It should sicken me enough to puke on him.
But it doesn’t.
It feels good. It’s as if his blows put every nerve ending in my body on high alert. Even the air moving over my skin feels like the silken caress of a satin bed sheet.
Somewhere back when he was belting me, my body and my mind separated. Now the one selfishly seeks pleasure to make up for all the pain it’s had to endure, while the other watches helplessly as my hips buck into his touch, knowing just how wrong, just howfucked upthis is.
A dark, sadistic smile spreads over Red’s mouth.
“See, now there’s my good little dolly. Tell me how much you love this.”
