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I need her to understand and see that I meant the words that came out of my mouth, and the only way I could prove it to her was by my behavior. I can only show her with my lips, touch, and whispers into her ear. She is letting me touch her more and more, and the more I fucking touch her, the more I need fucking more.
Fuck.
I take a deep breath as I make my way down the hallway, walking into our bedroom. I close and lock the door behind me as I walk into the bathroom; Nicole is already in the shower. Once again, her hands rest against the shower wall, allowing the water to run down her beautiful, scarred body.
I quickly remove my clothes and walk into the shower, leaning into her and resting my hands on top of hers. I rest my forehead against the back of her head as I take a deep breath of her scent. I drop my hands from the wall and slowly kneel down behind her. I gently spread her legs.
She allows me as I lean into her and gently lick her pussy. I close my eyes as her taste consumes my mouth. She moans against the wall as I push my tongue into her pussy.
If this is how I can have her right now, then so fucking be it.
Because having a part of her is better than not having her at all.
33
Nicole
Week Nine - Rage
Icontinue to pace back and forth in the bedroom. The voices are getting louder, the pain is getting stronger, and every day, the memories seem to flood in, destroying my insides and making me scream and fall to my knees.
Is it always going to be like this?
Will I always fucking feel like this?
The memories remind me more and more of what happened in that basement, things that I want to forget, but even in death, Sebastian is everywhere. The men are everywhere, touching me, claiming me, reminding me exactly what I am to them and what I will always be.
I just want to make it stop. I just want it to go away. The only time it seems to be silent in my head is when I am with Christian, and he is touching me, talking to me, reminding me that I have escaped, but that silence doesn’t last very long. And once again, I am fucking reminded that I am still a prisoner. My head is the worst fucking prison of all. There is no escaping myself. There is no running from the voices, from the memories.
They are all fucking screaming at me. They are all screaming at me, laughing at me.
Whore.
Slut.
Dirty, you are so dirty.
I will use you like my Puppet.
You will always belong to me.
Bitch you know you like it.
My heart is racing, and my entire body starts to shake as the memories take me over again.
2 1/2 Years Held Captive
Sebastian tightens his grip on my throat as he leans in and places his lips against my ear. He tightens his grip on my leg as he continues to move in and out of me. His breathing is heavy and unstable as his breath touches my skin, making my heart sink and my sink crawl. I feel his dick filling me, stretching me.
“Puppet, my dear Puppet, you know you love me. You know you are nothing without my dick inside you,” Sebastian whispers into my ear; his voice is confident and filled with desire and lust.
He wants me to say the words, the words I have refused to say.
Because if I say those words and let them come out of my mouth, there is no taking them back, then I will really be his forever.
He wants my heart, my soul, my mind. He is not happy with just having my body. My soul, mind, and heart are all I have left and have to hang on to. If I give them to him, if I say the words, I will be dead, more than I already am.
Why doesn’t he just fucking kill me?
