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Effortlessly adjusting the chains to keep me in the position he desired.
This wasn’t the first time he had done this. He took his time, savoring every second, saving it to his memory. I continue to yank at the chains until blood runs down my wrists. I feel his weight on the bed and hear him unzip his pants.
I knew what was coming.
I just hoped that it was quick.
I was dead wrong.
Nothing about what was about to happen would be quick.
He pushed himself inside of me.
Hard.
There was no passion.
It was just force.
Control.
Pain.
He slammed inside of me, deep into my core.
When his body began to stiffen, he fumbled around for something, and I was hit by the worst pain in my ass that I had ever felt.
The pain caused me to cry out in shock. He violated me again and again, my mind racing with fear and confusion as I struggled to comprehend the brutality of the situation.
The excruciating pain intensified, my cries echoing in the room.
I didn’t recognize the sound that came out of my mouth. My vision threatened to go out, and tears stung as they poured down my cheeks.
I could feel my insides tear by the force he shoved inside of me. My warm blood soaked the mattress under me.
My screams seemed to excite him more. I promised him I would do anything he wanted if he just stopped.
He pulled his cock out of me but left whatever he had shoved inside and left the room. The door slammed shut, and I broke to pieces.
I was hurt.
Terrified.
I fell asleep, and when I woke, he was shoving himself inside me again.
Panting and sweating on top of me.
When he came, he let his hot cum pour all over my face.
He defiled me repeatedly, finding new ways to cause me pain.
I lost track of how many hard tools he would shove inside of me, each one larger than the last. The physical and emotional torment seemed never-ending as he continued to violate me with increasing brutality. Each time, my body screamed in agony, and my spirit shattered further. The relentless cycle of abuse left me feeling utterly broken and devoid of hope.
As the old blood dried, he’d tear me apart, and new blood would take its place. When I stopped fighting him, the cutting began.
Small at first, experimenting with my arms and legs. He saved the deeper cuts for my stomach and vagina.
I tried to reason with him, but he didn’t stop. He just gave me a sick smile and smeared my blood all over his face, sucking his fingers clean. His eyes gleamed with disturbing satisfaction, his twisted enjoyment evident as he reveled in the grotesque act, completely unfazed by my attempts to appeal to his rationality. The chilling sight of him savoring the taste of my blood filled me with dread.
