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The cold tip presses just below my eye, and I’m grateful that I’ve kept them closed, as seeing the blade so close to my eye would have freaked me out, I’m sure. But then, instead of the light, cool pressure I’ve been feeling as he dragged the knife over my skin, a sharp sting slices across my cheek.
Fuck, that hurts!
My eyes fly open, against my better judgement, and I can tell straight away he’s cutting a line down my cheek. As the flesh is carved open, and the searing pain spreads down my face, I feel a warm, wet sensation that can only be blood, dripping from the wound. The sadistic fuck is cutting me deep enough to draw blood now—and it’s on my face.
I try not to think about the possibility of scarring, and instead I focus on staying alive. Now that my eyes are open, I can see him staring at me, though he looks a little confused. “Scream, bitch. I want to hear you beg me to stop.”
Anger bubbles under the surface, and instantly I’m proud of myself for not giving him what he wants. It would be so easy to cry out from the pain, to beg him to let me go, but we both know he’s still going to go through with his sick plan, so there’s no fucking way I’m making this easier or more entertaining for him.
I fix my face into a mask of indifference, jutting my chin out in defiance. “No fucking way.”
His eyes flare and his nose wrinkles as he sneers at me. “Fine, we can do this the hard way.”
Mortimer then takes the knife and presses it into the skin just below my right shoulder, before dragging a line all the way down towards my nipple, across the top of my breast. Pain splinters through me as the skin tears open and blood begins to ooze from the wound. It’s not a deep wound, but it will probably need stitches.
I try to close my eyes again, to focus on counting and breathing. Anything to help me calm down, so I don’t think about the pain. But he doesn’t give me the moment I need to get control of myself. He moves straight over to the left side of my body, and creates a matching wound over my left breast.
The pain is so severe, I can’t lie still. I try to lift my body up, to gain some sort of advantage, but all that does is tighten the ropes around my wrists, and moves me closer to my sadistic kidnapper.
I quickly lay back again, not wanting to be anywhere near him, if I can help it. Besides, moving only makes things worse, and I’m very aware I can’t get out of this situation by myself. I need someone to save me—Finn.
The harsh movement causes blood to drip over both my nipples before streaming along the sides of my breasts once I’m lying back down. The warm liquid mixes with the coldness of the room, and my nipples peak, which only seems to turn him on more, as he flicks his fingers over them.
Thankfully, the pain distracts from any positive sensations that normally come from having my nipples played with. Just the thought of him doing something so sexual causes bile to rise in my throat.
With a sadistic smile on his face, he dips his finger into the blood, and then drags the crimson liquid around my nipples, making sure they’re coated in red.
He returns back to dragging the tip of his knife over my skin, pressing just enough to cause a sting, but not enough to draw blood. The lower he gets, the more my heart races. As soon as he reaches the hem of my panties, using the same technique as he did with my bra, he slices through the fabric. Only this time, he makes a small cut over my hip bone on both sides.
I hiss loudly, but bite my lip to stop any other sounds from breaking free. His eyes light up manically at the noise, and I hate that I’m giving him even the slightest bit of pleasure.
He throws the fabric to the ground, and because of the way my legs are pulled apart with the bindings, I feel so very fucking exposed. His eyes latch onto my bare pussy, and when he runs his tongue along his lower lip, revulsion hits me like a bus.
Using the cool edge of the blade, he rests it on the top of my pubic area, and I twitch as the coldness from the metal startles me. Mortimer chuckles, and I sneer at him, holding on to every last ounce of hatred that I can find.
“You have such a pretty pink pussy,” he coos, as he drags his finger through my folds.
His rough skin against my dry core makes it feel like he’s using sandpaper on my most sensitive area. Tears well in my eyes, but I keep them tightly closed so he won’t have the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart. “It will be such a shame to ruin it. But I have to do what Mel tells me. She’s much more vindictive than people think, isn’t she?”
I shouldn’t justify him with a response, but the rage and anger I feel towards them bubbles to the surface, and I can’t help letting it out. My eyes fly open and I hit him with the full force of my glare, giving him as much of my fury as I can. “You are both sick, twisted, assholes, and I’m glad you have each other.”
He’s startled by the venom in my words, and it just makes him more pissed. Without warning, he presses one of his long fingers inside me, not caring that it’s a rough and painfulintrusion, given there’s no moisture. I’m actually kinda glad I’m not wet, as my body would’ve betrayed me in the worst way.
Whitlock’s so fucking delusional, he doesn’t even seem to notice. “Oh, you’re so tight. You like this, don’t you?” he asks, as he continues rapidly pressing his finger in and out, before roughly adding a second digit.
I wince from the sting and the stretch, as his fingers violate me in the worst way. Mortimer continues to make crude remarks as his eyes sparkle. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re enjoying this, little whore, aren’t you? Look at the way your pussy clamps down on my fingers, dragging them back in before I can pull them out. Fuck, you’re gagging for it. How much are you loving this?”
I try to block out his disgusting words, reminding myself he’s clearly in his own world if he thinks I’m enjoying this. Every so often, as his fingers pierce me deep inside, he knicks a small cut across my thigh, causing flashes of pain.
The wounds are only small, probably less than an inch each, but he does it so many times across each thigh, I lose count. The pain is overwhelming, and I’m struggling to stay in my head. My vagina feels like it’s being torn open, as his fingers stab into me with brutal consistency. Combined with the stinging of the flesh wounds, the pain starts to become overwhelming.
The mental walls I’ve erected to keep me safe, to protect me from the horrors of the experience, begin to fall down, leaving me completely exposed. My brain quickly catches up, and it finally hits me that I’m being raped.
I know it sounds almost stupid that it’s taken me this long to label what’s happening to me, but I think my mind was trying to protect me from the horror of the situation. Naming it makes it real, and there’s no going back from it now. There’s no escaping this. The worst is happening.
As those thoughts and labels swirl around my brain, it’s almost like something inside of my head fractures, and darkness descends.
The tears I tried to hold back fall freely, and I sob. I no longer care that this sick fuck is taking pleasure in my pain, that he’s enjoying my tears. I let them fall anyway, because if I don’t, they will overwhelm me.
