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I cry out, and my legs instantly close as I turn to my side and curl in on myself.
“Tsk, tsk,” he tuts me. He grabs my legs and rolls me on my back again. Spreading my thighs, he settles between them so I’m unable to close them anymore. My wrists are crushed under my back, and my entire body is trembling.
“Do you cry when someone makes you come, Elisabeth?” he asks with genuine curiosity.
I don’t answer. I won’t give him the pleasure. Mainly, because I don’t know. No one but myself has ever made me come before.
I don’t think it feels the same when someone else makes you orgasm. I can only imagine.
“So stubborn,” he laughs, pressing against my entrance again. He’s pointing the camera at me, making the humiliation that much worse. “I guess we’ll just have to check for ourselves, won’t we?”
I shake my head so hard the room spins. I can hear the other men snickering behind me. I can feel the shame. It’s so sticky on my sweaty skin.
This time, he pushes my panties to the side, exposing my pussy to the camera.
“You’re so wet, Elisabeth,” he growls.
I honestly wish he’d stop calling my name. It makes it all soreal. It stops me from escaping the moment.
I sense the tip of his gloved finger pressing against my entrance and the fright sends another wave of confusion through my body. I feel the exact moment I get wetter. He doesn’t miss it, either.
His mocking laugh is deadly as he looks up at me. “That was caught on camera,” he murmurs. The desire is evident in his voice. It’s raw and hits me with force.
He starts pushing in, my wetness allowing him easy access. But I twist and try to pull back.
“Please,” I plead in a desperate rasp. “I don’t…I’ve never…just don’t.”
He freezes when he understands. “Did that boyfriend of yours never touch you, baby?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t-wasn’t ready.”
And now I so shamefully am.
A soft laugh escapes him. “And he listened to your words instead of your body?”
My body doesn’t react like this to Chester, is what I don’t say.
He moves further inside me, and I feel the way my pussy clamps around his finger. The cold sweats have been replaced by a fire licking at my skin, making me squirm from pleasure.
“Change boyfriends, Elisabeth. Because if you were mine, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, no matter what you said.”
His finger retreats only to come back more roughly. It’s impossible to stop my body’s reactions; the staggered breaths, the whimpers of pleasure, and the way my hips start to follow his movements.
I’m not even used to the thickness of one finger when he adds another. My mouth falls open, yet no sound comes out. I simply gasp for air as he fucks me into oblivion with two simple fingers.
“You’re so hot,” he pants with me.
“Wait,” I panic as I feel myself losing control completely. I’m on the edge of a cliff, and this man is going to push me off. “Stop…”
“Are you going to cry from loving this? When will it hit you that you’re coming on the hand of the man who kidnapped you?”
It hits me the moment he says I’m coming. Like I hadn’t realized before that. It’s as if my body decided to wait for him to spell it out before letting my brain know. I explode on his fingers, hotness spreading in my limbs, snapping sharply in my lower belly.
When he stops, my body slumps against the bed, and my head falls to the side. Finally, I give him exactly what he wanted, my tears falling freely.
Not from the kidnapping or from the fact that he tried to drown me. Not from the violence or the pain.
I’m crying from the shame. From understanding I’m truly disturbed. Something in me is broken and my kidnapper isn’t even the one who broke it. He just took advantage of it. He found the vile piece of me and exposed it.
