Virginity Sold Pt 5

Virginity Sold Pt 5

He untied me, pulled me close to him. Ian, my new husband hugged me close for a while. Together we talked about the day. It was wonderful talking about everything. He was always so interested in how I felt. It made me feel loved and like he really cared about me.

I wanted to know how he felt about the wedding especially the vows. He made it clear that he’d loved the vows I wrote. Of course we also talked about the sex. I could tell that in some ways he was pleased with me. That allowed me to feel calmer as we talked. His love for me, his happiness with me, shone through his eyes.

I also knew I had to do better. I wanted to do better for him. I was still frustrated in spite of the wonderful way he made me feel. I wanted him, truly wanted him to take my virginity. It’s funny I think I wanted it almost more than he did at that point.

There was also something unsettling in our talk this time. It was almost as if our desires didn’t match perfectly. I guess no two peoples desires do, but this time as we talked a sense of foreboding came over me. A chill went down my spine. It had to be my imagination though; my fears were probably just trying to sabotage this wonderful moment again. That’s what I told myself.

I tried to brush the worry aside. Ian held me rocking me slightly. His hands stroked my hair gently. I felt loved; I really did, until I fell asleep.

In my dream I was in the dark. I was being chased. I didn't mind it though. It was an adventure.

How very clever. They had made a play of it!

See how the man on stilts makes the giant?

This is such great street theater!

Who knows about this?

How many can appreciate this, I wondered?

Watching it was a marvel.

I was filled with delight.

Down the street came a famous actress. What was her name? It eluded me. How frustrating that was. It was someone I liked. Someone I might like to talk with even though the actress was thin and beautiful. Even though it was someone that had likely never felt any of my hardships.

The woman turned ghostly. Her beauty became terrible. She was thinner, elongated. She was now me!

I was in bed. I clutched the bed sheets with all my strength pulling at them as I tried to get away from myself. Scrabbling back in terror. If I touched myself...if contact was made, I was going to be worse than dead. I screamed in terror over and over.

A thought floated in the ether. Am I screaming in real time?

I was caught. A horrible jolt shook me. A deeper dread than I would have thought I could withstand filled me. I bit the arm of my captor, my own arm. I pulled the bitch down, pounding her viciously. It didn't help. Again I was screaming full out, as loud as I could.

Another thought, struck me, this one almost prayer-like. Please don't let me be
hurting anyone in real time.

I heard my own voice. It was trying to scream. I had never known such terror before. In my dream I was yelling full-throated. I heard my voice as it was in real time. It was simply white noise; a whisper yell was all it was. Yet IT was real. It hurt my throat and it woke me up.

I sat up looking about in the darkness. I climbed out of bed making my way to the bathroom. There was only enough ambient light to make the shadows come out and look more real in my rooms. I peed and washed my hands avoiding the mirror. I was seized with terror at the idea of looking at myself in the dark. I felt if I looked in my eyes in that mirror I would see something monstrous. I know it’s a silly childhood fear that probably others have but I hadn’t been this afraid of myself in a while.

I made my way back to bed, feeling safe when I was finally back in the warm covers. I turned my face to the pillow making sure I wasn’t in the same position as I’d been in my nightmare. It was only then that I realized I was alone. I was alone and back in my rooms.

I turned back over and reached out to the side of me. Was I going insane? Wasn’t Ian here? Wasn’t I in our honeymoon suite? Had it all been a dream?

My hand touched paper where he should have been. I reached for the light feeling a new dread. The light was where it was supposed to be in my room. I was back in my rooms. I was alone save for the red glow of the cameras.

I sat up clutching the papers. It was a note from Ian.

My Darling Francesca,

I have to be gone on business for a few days, I’m sorry it’s unavoidable. I know the timing seems horrible but it must be this way. I carried you back to your rooms when I had to get ready to leave. You looked so beautiful I couldn’t bear wake you. Everyone should look so innocent and peaceful when they sleep as you do.

While I’m gone I want you to continue your regular routine. Go to work everyday, go to the bar and pretend in your mind, that you are single again. Make yesterday like a dream in your soul. I have my reasons, so trust me about this. Go with the flow, my heart, and follow your deepest wishes. You will not be disappointed with what I have arranged for you.

Love,

Ian

Once again, he had surprised me. So many emotions roiled inside me like a red killing tide.

I was glad he had seen me as peaceful and not as I was in my nightmares.

I would have liked to have someone there to comfort me when I needed it though.

I felt crushed that he would leave. The fact that our honeymoon was cut so short seemed cruel to me. I knew he was a busy man. He had a lot of business to attend to. If he could have stayed he would have, I was sure of that. We would have all the time in the world later. I told myself that over and over but my silly doubts and fears tried to take over again. My heart felt tight and ached with the pangs of my fear.

Was I wrong to feel angry? What on earth could he mean by telling me to forget yesterday? It was our wedding day! It was the most wonderful day in our lives!

I was astounded that he could tell me that and going with the flow, what did he mean by that? I looked at my clock. It was 5 am. There was no point in going to sleep again if I had to go to work. I didn’t want to go to work. I didn’t want to go with the flow. What I wanted was to throw things and watch them shatter. A rage was building up inside that was scary to me.

Instead of doing anything destructive, I simply took a shower. Like a good little girl, I got ready for work at my useless job. I was getting tired of it. I was getting tried of games. I didn’t want to pretend I wasn’t married. I didn’t want to go with the flow. I wanted to scream and beat against something. I wanted to tear something up.

I couldn’t eat anything for breakfast. I felt sick. The dread was creeping back into my soul. I wanted the sun. I felt petulant. I wanted my husband. I wanted the option to be free and normal.

Most of all I wanted what he gave me when he was around. I wanted the sense of purpose of pleasing him. I wanted the rapturous pleasure and that sweet, sweet pain. I wanted that to begin again and never end. I wanted and needed it all right now.

I started to giggle at myself. What kind of person had I become in the near thirty days I’d been here? I was supposed to be a good girl. I was still technically a virgin but in that moment it was clear to me that like my husband I was deviant too.

As I walked to work I thought about how much I enjoyed the things he did. Particularly when he’d hurt me a little. I remembered that first night when he’d told me he wouldn’t hurt me. He’d seemed like a very strange sort of knight in shining armor then.

I was glad he had hurt me though, even if it were only a little. I wondered why he’d done those things that I so loved. How had he known I would love them? Well, it didn’t matter, he’d done them, he was clearly comfortable with them and he’d made me blissful.

I drudged through my day. My mind kept drifting over the wedding. I was daydreaming and remembering the precious times all day. At the bar I drank my minimum and hurried “home” hoping to find Ian there, as he’d been most nights. I knew it was silly but I wanted to be with him so badly. He wasn’t there of course. My heart fell when I made it to my room only to find it empty except for my solitary meal waiting for me.

I don’t know what I ate that night. I was too miserable to care. I just chewed and spun fantasies out in my head. I didn’t taste a bite of what had been made for me. If Ian had been with me, I’d have enjoyed it but not now. We were newlyweds. Newlyweds were supposed to hole up in a room and fuck like bunnies; rarely coming up for air but here I was alone and still a virgin.

He hadn’t even called me. There wasn’t a new note from him, nothing! I wanted to do something. I was really upset. I looked at the cameras and wondered what would happen if I masturbated now? Would Ian even know? Would he make a special trip back to spank me? He’d told me he’d spank me if I did that again. What would he do if I tore my own hymen? My face, I think must have smiled with a twist of malice when I considered that thought.

In the end I couldn’t do it though. I was too miserable to masturbate. It didn’t work right without him anyway. I would do it just to get him to spank me when he got home I decided. I really was beginning to like the idea of being spanked. That surprised me a lot. Deep down though, I didn’t want to mess up his business trip or hurt him, not really. So I just took my shower. I went to bed and tried to sleep hoping that Ian would be back the next day.

It was a restless night for me. The next day was hard to get through too. I felt utterly stupid to continue this charade of working when it meant nothing. It just seemed futile to me. I thought about just going back to my room and not following the orders to go to the bar but as much as I wanted to hurry there to find Ian, I was worried about how I’d feel if Ian weren’t there.

I didn’t want his first night back to be full of anger at me either so I went to the bar following his instructions. There were more people than usual. That seemed wrong. It made me feel even more isolated somehow. After all, none of this was real so it wasn’t like I could enjoy any of these people whoever they were. It was a very strange situation.

I took my drink to an isolated dark booth so I could be more separate from them. I felt like I was being watched. I knew I had been watched almost the whole time I’d been at Ian’s. The idea of what they could have of me in pictures, on film and even audiotape was disgusting to contemplate. I ordered another drink a double. It made me want to scream, break things, and jump on the table or something.

I drank that drink down too. It went down fast. I hadn’t eaten much all day. I decided it was time to go. I started to gather my things. Just as I was getting up there was a man at my table holding out a drink to me.

“Señora hermosa usted parece tan triste.” He said.

I couldn’t see him that well in this shadowy part of the bar but his skin was dark looking. He had a thick black mustache. There was something familiar about him. I took the drink he offered and sat back down.

He smiled looking into my eyes. My mouth gaped open. It was Ian! He looked different maybe he had theatrical make up on but his eyes gave him away.

“I said, beautiful lady you seem so sad. Perhaps I can help.” He said. His accent was perfectly rich and smooth. I felt my body tingle all over. He was doing this for me! He’d become my fantasy Latin lover. This was my third and preferred method of losing my virginity. I only wondered if I had the nerve to say what he required do say it how he wanted me to this time.

I could see in his eyes that he knew I’d recognized him. I finally sipped my drink a little while my heart thudded madly. When I put it down he reached for my hand.

He took my hand and kissed the back of it. He turned it over and kissed the palm. His kisses traveled up from the center of my palm until he was at my inner wrist. He nibbled there until I could feel my liquids fill and begin to drip. His lips were hot on my drink-cooled hand. I held my breath while he did this sensuous thing that seemed to fire all my circuits at one.

“Usted no debe estar solo.” He murmured his breath warming my wrist further before he released it.

“Ian, I don’t speak Spanish.” I said, laughing at little.

His eyes darkened with anger.

“I am not Ian tonight, I am Diego tonight, call me only that.” He looked through me then as he had so many times before. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to make him look at me. I wanted to do anything to get his attention on me but I didn’t want to anger him further.

“Okay.” I said quietly barely daring to move.

“Tonight you must say and do the right things. You must say and do what is in your heart. If you do this, I will do that which you most desire. If not . . .” He spread his hands in a gesture that seemed perfect for his character. The move conveyed eloquently how do or die this moment was.

When I found my voice again I almost said what he wanted but instead I asked a question.

“What did that mean, the Spanish words?”

“It meant you should not be alone. Don’t you agree with that?”

“Yes, yes I do. I hate being alone.” It was a funny thing to say because it was very true now but once I had craved time to myself. Once I was my own safe port in the storm of people’s emotions around me. Now I felt so differently. Now I hated to be all-alone.

“Beautiful flowers like you shouldn’t be untended. You need a man to take care of you. You need a man who knows what he is doing. A man who will till your soil, pluck your weeds, add fertilizer when you need it, keep you moist,” He slowed his words and lifted his brows while speaking, then continued. “And to make sure you get enough sun but not too much. You would flourish under the right man, my flower.” He said. His voice was so authentic in accent I drank his words in like honeyed wine.

This was my chance to be taken the way I wanted to. I need it to actually happen. I pressed my side into his body. Waves of heat seemed to come from him and warm me. His heat made me feel alive again.

I looked down at my drink. A little burn of embarrassment spread across my face. Good girls didn’t want what I wanted. I felt more than saw my love give a signal. Latin music started up. It was full of lush guitars and a sensuous beat.

He pulled me out of my chair out onto the dance floor.

“Music is passion.” He told me. “Relax and follow me.” I’d never danced much before. This music seemed demanding. On television and in movies when I’d seen salsa dancing I thought that it was an impossibly fast dance but as he taught me to move, I learned that it was a very simple dance that was moderately paced in tempo.

It didn’t take long for us to be comfortable dancing with each other. The endless movements of simple footwork and all the twirling were so easy and fun. It further stoked my need. I found myself unable to keep from smiling. Our eyes flirted, like our flesh did, as we danced. Now and then he’d tell me the story that the words in the song told, whispering in my ear as we danced. He’d fill my ears with little bits and pieces as my ear was near his mouth, then wait to tell the next part when I came close to his lips again.

Soon I was breathless. I could feel warm sweat sliding down my body. I needed a break. He seemed to read me so well. He chose that time to take me back to the table.

“Francesca, even though we just met, I feel that we have known each other’s hearts before, perhaps in another life. You are a very beautiful woman. I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me? He asked. He kissed my hand slowly and thoroughly until I could feel the heat between my legs growing to an almost unbearable intensity.

I picked up my drink with my other hand. Gulping at it I thought in a panic, what are the words he wants to hear? What should I say and how should I say it? I drained my drink. My heart was thumping.

I wanted to wish the games away. I no longer wanted my fantasies to come true; I just wanted Ian to take me, even as I thought that, my hand clenched around my glass.
I knew that wishing wasn’t going to work with Ian. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to make this happen. I had to play along or risk disappointing, maybe even angering him.

I took a deep breath. I turned my body toward him. I looked into his eyes and the words came out.

“Diego, I need you to take me. I want you to take my virginity. I give you my virginity of my own free will.” I said quietly but clearly. I was surprised at how easily this tumbled out of my mouth after all of my inherent resistance.

I felt my face burn but I also felt exultant and smiled. His eyes got bigger while I spoke. I could tell he was a little surprised. That made me even happier. He was clearly pleased with me. He didn’t seem ready to speak at first but eventually he did.

“In that case shall we go to my place?” He finally said.

“Yes, please.” I replied heart hammering in my chest.

We walked to his place. It looked like a luxury hotel suite. The candles were all ready lit; it seemed like hundreds of them were a flame but I didn’t count them.

He stopped just inside the door and looked at me with such passion it made me moan. He pulled me to him using a long slow movement, which stretched my arm out and drew me inside the suite.

He kissed my hand again but he continued. His kisses were both soft and passionate as he made his way up my arm. A strangled raw cry came from my throat when he kissed my neck so close to that special place. His hand unzipped my clothing; he continued to draw me further and further into the suite, his lips and hands never left me as we went.

He pulled me through this beautiful suite but I barely saw it. Soon we were in the large bathroom. It was all black marble and glass. There were candles in there too blazing so bright but soft. They flickered the way only real candles do. Such lovely light can’t be simulated.

His lips were sucking at my ear now. He let go of me to strip his own clothes off. He made quick work of it. His body shone in the candlelight. I had to simply watch him move. That was all I could do.

He looked up at me. Crossing the distance between us, he stripped my clothes off my body too. He got into the tub and pulled me to it. It was already filled with steaming water. I let him pull me into the water. It felt so hot. He sat me down in it his brows rising in question. I nodded yes though I was unable to speak at that moment.

He reached for a dial. He made the water bubble. The jets were swirling the water. He sat back down. Pulling me onto his lap, he moved my legs to either of side of him and made my torso snug against his.

“Are you sure you know what you want?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I told him. I was trembling with both fear and need I’m sure he could even hear it in my voice.

His hands traveled up and down my sides. He bent down to suck at my nipples. I loved what he was doing. Waves of electricity felt like they were playing over my body. He bit them softly, far too softly. I groaned wanting him to bite down hard to hurt me at least a little. As if he read my mind he bit down first on one nipple and then the other. I leaned back and would have fallen if his hand hadn’t caught me on the back of my neck making me nearly come from that touch alone.

“Not yet.” He said sounding amused.

One finger played with my anus. I wiggled wanting more. At the same time I worried that he wouldn’t take my real virginity. I didn’t want him to get side tracked with my rectum like before.

“You want me to take you in this bathtub Francesca?” He asked me.

“Yes please.”

His other hand found my clit and pinched it making me arch up and hug against him shaking.

“You like it when I’m rough with this.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

“Yes.” I answered him anyway.

He began to rub against my folds.

“And if it hurts when I take you and push past your hymen?”

“I, I don’t care, I might even like it, please.” I begged.

His eyes crinkled up in the corners with his smile.

“The bathtub is nice, warm and seems clean to you. However the water does not provide good lubrication. Lubrication can ease the way for us both. So I will work on that first.” He told me.

His hands and lips traveled up and down my body until I couldn’t see anything because of the passion he’d built in me. More and more I found myself begging, sighing, and moaning until the bubbling stopped. He took a bottle from the side of the tub and motioned for me to stand. He took the oil rubbing it against my folds then moved up himself and oiled his wonderful penis.

He sat me on the side of the tub, opening my legs further and further. His fingers for the first time slipped past my folds, I gasped at the feel of being penetrated for the first time. He kept moving his finger inside me. He brought it out and moved it in again. I felt incredibly lewd in the candlelight, my legs spread wide, sitting on the cold marble side of the tub. The coolness of that marble was in sharp contrast with the heat of the water and the heat in my vagina.

“Francesca, a woman’s body only has so many firsts. I am honored you want to give me this.” He said. I felt a thicker finger inside me and closed my eyes trying to control my breathing so I didn’t hyperventilate.

Slowly he pulled me toward him. I felt his cock right at my entrance. A panic started in me. I wasn’t being a good girl. I was married though. It was okay, expected even. I wanted it so very much but I found myself in that moment bargaining with God. Please let him love me. Please let it be okay. I’m good really I am, these thoughts and more went flying through my head.

He pulled me closer and I felt the slightest pain, hardly enough to enjoy, and then he was inside me a tiny bit. I shuddered and went very still.

When I relaxed he pushed in further making me feel so full I thought I might burst. I opened my eyes. I saw a small trail of red flowing in the water and spiraling down.

Soon he was moving inside me. I was gasping. He felt so good, like he’d always belonged there. He pinched my right nipple and stroked in, nearly out and in again making water slosh against the sides of the tub.

His body was hard against my clit as he stroked in me. I was elated now. My man loved me. He’d taken me. It was as it should be. I’d finally given him what he wanted. I’d finally said what he needed and demanded I say.

He kept up his glorious movements for a long while. Then he picked me up and carefully stepped out of the tub. He kept us connected the whole time we moved from the tub.
He laid me on a rug in front of the fire in the living room and got on top of me again.

Now he was able to move better. His teeth bit at my left nipple and sucked it, while he bucked inside me. I felt his public bone striking against my clit harder now. His cock inside me was getting faster and going deeper. He seemed to get harder or bigger. He began to move even faster.

He hand cupped and tightened on my neck. His teeth came off of my nipple.
“Come Francesca.” He panted at me. My back arched as my body rocketed into orgasm. I went stiff beneath him for a second before I moved with him once again, our bodies squeezing and grasping at each other like ancient warriors trying to win some glorious battle.

Finally he lay still on top of me. I could feel my vagina twitching and buzzing with him still inside. He hugged me to him fiercely. We stayed like that for a long time. Then he got up and pulled me with him. He took me to a small table and fed me from his hand.
We talked about all of my fantasies. Later he took me to bed. We had sex again and again. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of me. I know I couldn’t get enough of him.

At some point I fell asleep. I slept so soundly I don’t remember any dreams. The next day I expected to continue being blissfully happy with my husband, making love on and on.

I was surprised to find him staring at me when I awoke. I tried to smile even though I wondered how horrible I must look or if I may have been drooling.

“What are you doing?” I asked Ian.

“Looking at you. You’re beautiful.” He answered. I hugged him. My head was at his chest. I was glad because I was worried about morning breath. I didn’t care if he had it but felt it would be the worst thing possible if I did.

“Go ahead.” H said.

“What?” I mumbled.

“I know you want to go to the bathroom and take care of some things.” It was like I was glass and he could see clear through me.

I nodded my head. I was happy to escape to the bathroom. I needed to clean up so I could feel pretty for him. I took care of myself as fast as I could. Soon I was back out of the lavatory, ready to face the day and my husband.

He kissed my hand when I returned.

“Get dressed, we have to talk.” He said. The tone he used scared me. I knew something was wrong right there.

“Why, what is it?” I asked.

“Get dressed.” He repeated in that same tone. He smiled but his eyes were sad and weary looking to me. He walked out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind him.

A sliver of fear slipped through me. I hurried to dress. I found some regular clothes in the closet. Among them I found jeans and a sweater. They both looked comforting and warm so I put them on. I still felt a chill of fear. I rolled cotton socks up my ankles. Tennis shoes were there too they completed my outfit.

These were the most normal things I’d worn since I’d been there. I decided I needed these clothes. They didn’t fit what he normally liked me to wear but he’d had them put there. Now that we were married and my virginity was finally gone I decided I was being given some latitude. Even if he didn’t like it, I felt quite sure I wasn’t going to like what he wanted to talk about. I needed these clothes to keep me insulated.

As I walked to the door to open it and look for Ian, I felt the reinforced denim seam rub against my crotch and winced. I was sore. Still in all there had been less blood and pain than I’d expected from being “deflowered” as my father used to say. I was grateful for that even as I wished for underwear.

The sore ache certainly let me know what had taken place last night. I had done what he wanted. I expected smooth sailing from here on out. I thought he’d be happy but it seemed that somehow I’d done something wrong.

I left the bedroom. My eyes found him eagerly. He had breakfast ready. Ian beckoned to me. His eyes were clearly taking in my apparel. He favored me with a slight nod.

“Ian I can’t eat until I know what you want to talk about.” I said refusing to move to the beautifully set table.

His eyes seemed to go dark, his face turning firm and stormy. I noticed he was dressed. He’d been busy while I was in the bedroom alone. He always planned things so well. Ian was always so in control. Only now it bothered me. I wanted to fight that control he had because I was afraid.

“I think it would be better if you had something in your stomach.” He said.

I crossed to the table, bit the corner of a croissant and chewed it angrily. After I swallowed I looked up at him.

“Good enough?” I asked.

“No. It’s not. Take a pear or banana with you and some cheese or sausage. We’ll talk as we walk.” He insisted. I grabbed a banana and a slice of cheddar but stood still in spite of his opening the door and indicating we should leave.

“Why? Where are we going? Why don’t you just tell me now?” I asked like a petulant child. I felt a growing panic.

“Come here.” He said brooking no arguments and no further discussion.

I found myself moving to him without further thought.

“My dear,” he said, putting my hand in the crook of his arm as if we were off to a ball or something. “What you gave me last night was wonderful. I hope it was as wonderful for you as it was for me. I thank you for finally breaking your way free of your staid upbringing for us both.” He said.

My heart melted and I beamed. The fears fell away from me.

“You don’t have to thank me! I wanted to do that for you! It was incredible! More than I even dreamed!” I told him.

“Now, I know you are curious as to what comes next. We’ve shared a lot. I’ve made some of your fantasies come true and you have made some of mine come true as well.” He continued.

We had made it to the replicated corner that I had been abducted at but I didn’t give it much thought other than to note that we might be headed to my room.

I have? I’m so glad!” I exclaimed happily. “Are we going to my room? Won’t we start to live together now that we’re married? I won’t always be your captive will I?” I said in a teasing way.

He stopped as if I had stuck him. He looked at me. His face told me that things were somehow terribly wrong. I began to back away from him.

“What? What’s wrong?” I asked frightened.

“We loved each other for a while didn’t we?” He said so softly, I could barely hear him.

I felt and heard my heart beating wildly in my ears, spikes of fear again started going through me.

“We love each other now.” I pleaded. “I love you, don’t you love me?” My eyes were filling up with tears now.

“Yes, of course my heart.” He reassured me but I could tell something was still off.

“But?” I asked. My voice sounded a bit shill in my own ears.

“There are no buts, not really, it’s just, well, you have to go back soon.” He said.

“Why?” I asked starting to cry. I was still backing away from him.

“Don’t do this.” He said. His voice was tight with control. His fists clenched.

“I will always love you. I just can’t keep you. I don’t even think it’s the right thing for you anyway.”

“How can you say that?”

“You like it when I hurt you.”

“Yes.” I whispered coloring. I wasn’t comfortable with that part of myself. I hated admitting it but maybe if I did, he would see. He’d see that I needed him. If he could see how much I needed him to fuck me and hurt me then all of this talk about going back would go away.

“I don’t like hurting people. Not physically anyway. I’ve done things with you I’m not comfortable with. You need more. I can’t give it to you. If you think about it you’ll know what I’m saying is true. You crave more.”

“No!” I was sobbing now. I don’t know where the cheese and the banana went but my hands were empty.

“Yes my dear. You need to be hurt, your soul cries out of it. I’m going to let you have it. You have to trust me. I will be keeping an eye on you. Perhaps someday we can even be together again if your needs and mine match better.” He said this sounding so fucking reasonable I wanted to kill him.

“We are married! You said you loved me!” I begged him to acknowledge these things.

“Our marriage wasn’t legal, surely you realize that but...” He began.

I flew at him then. I hit him then began scratching at him. I wanted blood and I got it. I ran past him blind from the tears and emotions. I was such a fool. How had I become such a fool? How did my life become this?

I don’t know how long I ran but eventually I found myself in a hall. It had gold gilt framed portraits with little lights above each one. I stopped and looked at them. Something about them seemed to call to me. I dried the tears on my face, chin and neck with my hands. I took a closer look.

Each was of a young girl. All of them looked sweet and fresh. Why did they call to me so?

Ian’s right hand man, the one who’d bought me at the auction was suddenly there.

“Beautiful aren’t they?” He said smiling at me.

“Yes.” I agreed feeling strangely calm. I didn’t smile back at him. I didn’t trust him. I hated everyone even myself at that moment.

“Your portrait will go up here soon.” He said still smiling.

“Why?”

“Because this is his way of remembering the girls he’s taken, the one’s he’s bought. He cherishes each one of you. Once they give him what he wants, they go back of course just as you will, but he never forgets them. Each of them is special in their own way.” The man told me smoothly.

I felt utterly defeated. The adrenaline had drained away.

“You’ve been bad you know. Hurting him that way. He only loved you.” He continued. He made a tisking noise at me.

I felt horrible. My new world, the one I had so wanted was falling down around my ears. I went with him back to my room. I wanted to make sure even after all this that Ian was okay.

When we got to my room though Ian wasn’t there. I turned to ask his man if he was okay but the door shut in my face.

I pounded on the door with my hands.

“Just tell me if he is okay!” I screamed. I got no answer.

I was numb now, feeling as if I were a condemned prisoner waiting to be taken for execution. As the day went on each moment felt like an oh slow so ticking off of my day alone, I found myself becoming more outraged.

Eventually I stood in front of one of the cameras and begged for Ian to come to me. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I wanted to make things up to him. I loved him. I wasn’t the sort of girl who can love one minute and hate the next no matter how betrayed, stupid or hurt I felt.

I had an idea. I decided to masturbate. Ian had said before that if I did that to orgasm he would come spank me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be spanked now but I did want his attention. I did want to see him. So far any pain he’d caused me had felt good to me. He was right that I had craved more of it, at least physical pain. The pain in my heart, I never wanted and did not relish.

I called to him. Telling him what I was doing. Blatantly I masturbated for him to see, hoping to prod him. He never said anything to me. He didn’t come to punish me either but then I found I was getting no enjoyment at all from masturbating. In the past I’d had some enjoyment but never quite enough to climax. This time it was like my body was dead. I felt nothing at all. There was no way I could come. I imagined Ian watching and laughing at me. My rage grew.

When I was in the bathroom, cleaning up and washing my face again, food was delivered. I didn’t see it come. I guess they planned it that way. I felt so manipulated. I felt like a tiger caged and watched. It was like they expected me to do something but what could I do? My stomach had been growling more as the day went on so I tried to eat though I didn’t really want to.

The food and drink, which I knew to be excellent, tasted bland to me. I was just too miserable to enjoy anything-even dishes I’d loved before. I soon gave up. I sat at the table, and stared at the single candle on the table. I imagined Ian there across from me, as he’d been so many nights. How I wanted that to be the case. The happy memories brought a bitter smile to my face. These musing occupied me for a short while I think though I’m not sure how long. Time had no meaning for me it only measured my dread and rage now.

I picked up the candle from the table. I took it around the room, lighting all the candles making my room blaze with what should have been romantic light. Of course that too seemed different.

I pulled all the clothes out of my closet. I threw them on the floor in a huge messy pile and raged.

“I won’t go back Ian! Do you hear me?” I screamed. “I love you! You said you love me! I won’t go back! Please don’t make me!” I began to cry again.

Slowly thoughts clicked in my head. I wouldn’t be controlled anymore. Not by Ian or anyone. I took some of the hot wax and dripped it on my fingers. It burned a little but at least I could feel that. I liked it. I went and filled the camera lenses all around the room with the wax. They couldn’t watch me now. What they could see would be distorted and useless.

I no longer screamed or cried. He couldn’t see really me now. He didn’t care anyway. No matter what he’d said, he couldn’t care if he’d send me back there. If he wouldn’t keep me, there was no way he cared was there? No there wasn’t, I decided. I continued thinking furiously about everything that had happened. My heart was broken. I wanted to simply die. If he didn’t care then I didn’t either.

I took the bed coverings and added them to the pile. I don’t know what I was thinking at that point exactly but I do know what I did. I took a candle and lit the pile of cloth. I tore my rooms apart in a rage. I did all of that quickly I think. The flames leaped up and licked at the ceiling.

I lay down beside the blaze exhausted. I lay there as if I were at a spirit bonfire or camping outdoors. I think I’d gone a little mad. I took in the fumes and warmth from the fire I’d made. I watched it grow more and more beautiful.

The flames twisted and danced for me. I remember coughing some too. I succumbed to darkness after that. That might seem strange to go from those bright flames to the absolute black of some null space. If you think about it though, that is the way of things. Heat follows cold and vice versa, whatever you want is never there no matter how tightly you hold on to it. I had come to understand that is some ways.

The sweet pure nothingness was soothing even though it was nothing. It was a place with no more pain. I was safe in that void, I was safe from everything because I didn’t exist anymore.

As always wonderful. Will you be gracing the new story contest with your presence this time around?

push, push, shove, shove :D

Thanks Aesop, I'm glad you enjoyed this section of the story.

I'm not sure if I will. Finding Me time isn't easy these days much less writing time.

Fury