AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Why doesn’t he just fucking move on?
He is obsessed with me, with claiming me, with making sure I know he is, in fact, the puppet master.
The tears escape my eyes and roll down my face as he continues to thrust in and out of me. His tongue tastes my neck, sending chills down my spine.
“You feel so good, Puppet. You know you love me, your body tells me you do, you feel that? Your pussy is wrapping tightly around my dick, don’t try and lie to me, Puppet. Just tell me you love me,” Sebastian whispers. I can hear the need in his voice.
I lay still, allowing more tears to fall from my eyes as he does whatever he wants to me. This is my life. He is now my life and my worst fucking nightmare.
There is no reason to lie or be in denial about it. I will never leave this room.
I will never leave this bed.
Day in and day out, I will continue to be used and abused. After all, that is what a good little whore is for, right?
I scream at the top of my lungs, turn around, make my way out of the bedroom, and rush into the kitchen. I stop in front of the knives on the counter. I grab the knife without needing to think about it. I look down at my wrist and place the knife against it. My heart is racing so fast I can hear it in my ears. I want it to fucking stop, and maybe, if I take my life, if I allow myself to go into the blackness, I will finally fucking be free from the memories, the trauma. Maybe I will be fucking free from Sebastian once and for all.
I continue to look down at my wrist. My hand starts to shake as I begin to cut, the pain from the knife spreading up my arm. I see the blood pooling from where I have sliced through my skin. I scream as loud as I can and slam the knife on the counter.
I rapidly look around the kitchen and start to grab everything and anything I can get my fucking hands on and start breaking it, throwing it across the room. The voices only get louder and louder inside my head as I feel all of their hands on me, claiming me, torturing me, and whispering filthy things into my ear. My heart is racing so fast as I grab tightly onto the refrigerator and use all my strength to tip it over. I let go as it falls face down onto the ground. My breathing is rapid as I grab the two pans on the stove and start to break the walls, plates, and cups, all shattering like me.
My legs give out, and my knees hit the ground as I look at the fridge, the broken fucking fridge. My heart is racing so fast I can barely catch my breath. The shame and guilt overwhelm me as I look at the broken fridge and the shattered kitchen. What have I done?
Dirty, Dirty Little Bitch.
Whore, whore, whore.
Slut.You know you fucking enjoy it, you Slut.
Tell me you love me, Puppet, just say the words.
Broken, you are fucking Broken.
I open my mouth, allowing another scream to leave me as I reach down and grab the knife, resting it on my lap as I start to rock back and forth. I look over the kitchen again, feeling the shame and guilt increasing with each passing second as my grip on the knife tightens.
I continue to look at what I have done, and when I look to the entryway, my heart freezes in my chest. Christian is standing in the doorway leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest, his bare tan tattoo-covered skin, and his eyes deadlocked onto me as I sit in the middle of what I have done to this once beautiful kitchen. Like in the bedroom, everything is black, and the walls are dark red; it is a theme throughout the entire house.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hearing the shame and guilt in my voice.
He takes a deep breath. “What are you sorry for, Bambino?” He asks, tilting his head to the side, giving me a different view of his gorgeous and breathtaking deep green eyes.
“I broke your fridge. I’m so sorry, I destroyed the kitchen. The voices…they…were…” I take a deep breath. “They were yelling at me. I just wanted them to fucking stop,” I say as calmly as I can, but I am not fucking calm, not one little bit.
“I don’t give a fuck about the kitchen or the fridge. I have all the money in the world. I can buy a new fucking kitchen, I will buy you whatever you need, you can destroy it every fucking day if you want, and I will just continue to buy you more. I don’t give a fuck, Bambino,” he states with so much confidence. How can he say that he doesn’t care? I have destroyed his mirrors, his mattress, his sheets, and now his entire kitchen.
“I don’t understand. I just destroyed your entire fucking kitchen,” I say in a shaky voice.
“Ora Sarai bambino Fottutamente nudo” he whispers. His tone is low and sexy, and his eyes are locked on me. There is nothing but pure desire in his eyes.
“What?” I reply, I don’t know that much Italian. I am trying, but he still catches me off guard when he says complete sentences in Italian.
“You will, Bambino. Now get fucking naked,” he whispers in a low, dark tone, making my stomach fill with butterflies. I slowly stand up as I grip the knife tighter in my hand at my side. I don’t do as he says. I want to, fuck, I want to, but I can’t. I just can’t.
Whore.
Slut.
You know you like it.
