Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
He wrenched three forceful orgasms out of me in less than ten minutes. I couldn't move. I couldn't think straight. Everything was hazy, blurred… distant.
As he pulled away, I slipped from the counter, collapsing in a puddle of my own helplessness. My legs shook violently. My pulse skyrocketed, pounding in my ears like a war drum. My breath came in ragged, desperate heaves.
He stood behind me, silent. I knew without looking that he wore the same smug expression, that cold satisfaction he always had. But I couldn't bear to face him. Not like this. Not when I was on my knees, my jeans bunched around my ankles, my underwear gone-ripped off somewhere in the chaos of his merciless assault.
The pot of water had boiled dry, steam hissing into the air, but he hadn't bothered to turn off the stove. Why was I even thinking about the pot? I should be concerned about myself. How could I… How could I have orgasmed at the hands of this demonic man?
Shame clawed at me, twisting inside my chest, a sickening blend of humiliation and betrayal was nothing new. Not just of my body, but of something deeper, something that felt irrevocably lost.
I stayed on the floor, trembling, trying to gather the shattered pieces of myself though finding none. I wanted to disappear, to melt into the cold tiles beneath me.
I stiffened as he moved closer. I could feel him looming over me, like a dark shadow that made my skin creep. My heart pounded faster drowning out any coherent thought. As if I had any, to begin with ever since this bastard tried to ruin my life for his own sick pleasure.
His hand reached down, gripping my hair roughly, forcing my head back. I winced, the pain sharp, but it was nothing compared to what I was feeling. "Look at me, ptichka," he whispered dangerously.
I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to obey, but his grip tightened, yanking harder until I had no choice but to face him. My vision was blurred, both from the tears I refused to shed and the daze he'd left me in.
"Open your eyes," he growled, this time his breath hot against my cheek.
Reluctantly, I did, meeting his gaze with fear and defiance. His eyes bore into mine, searching, dissecting every inch of my soul. I hated him. Hated how he made me feel. Hated how my body had betrayed me so completely.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Next time you refuse to obey; it'll be me taking you from behind all while spanking your ass red."
My throat tightened, my breath hitching as I tried to pull away, but he held me fast, his fingers digging into my scalp. "You'll learn to love this," he whispered.
"No," I whispered, but the word was hollow, lacking faith. I wanted to believe it, to believe I could resist him, but the reality was far more terrifying. He had broken something inside me, something I wasn't sure I could ever get back.
He released me suddenly, letting me collapse onto the floor, my body crumpling in on itself. I curled up, wrapping my arms around my knees, trying to hide, trying to protect what little dignity I had left. He'd take it. He'd take everything from me. I thought I could think of something to escape him, but I was wrong, he'd stop at nothing. Like he said, either I sleep with him willingly or he'd use force.
But it was no use. He had seen everything. He touched my deepest parts, my cordial fears that couldn't suppress the one standing before me. And he would use them against me.
I could feel him watching me, his gaze burning into my back, but I couldn't bring myself to move, to look at him.
I was broken. And he knew it.
Black dots danced in front of my eyes. The room spun, tilting as I struggled to stay conscious. Damn it. I should've eaten something. But the truth was, I hadn't eaten properly in days-three days, maybe more. And now, it was all catching up with me, my body betraying me just as much as he had.
I fought to keep myself awake, desperate not to lose consciousness in front of him. Who knew what he'd do if I passed out? But it was another wishful thought, another futile effort.
His hand grabbed my upper arm with a force that sent a jolt of pain through me. I was yanked up, my legs unsteady, the jeans bunched around my ankles making me stumble. My breath hitched as I tried to regain my balance, but he wasn't having it.
He stepped on the fabric, pinning it to the floor, and with one rough tug, he forced me out of it. I gasped weakly, but it was swallowed by the look he gave me-a look that promised more pain, more humiliation.
I stilled, lowering my head, letting him strip me of the last shred of my dignity. He took the jeans from me with ease, leaving me standing there in nothing but a thin, full-sleeved undershirt and his blazer.
The fabric clung to me, the only barrier between my trembling body and his relentless gaze. I could feel the cold air against my skin in contrast to the burning humiliation coursing through me.
He didn't say anything, just stood there, his eyes raking over me like I was nothing more than a possession, something to be used and discarded at his whim. My knees wobbled, the darkness in my vision creeping closer, but I fought to stay upright, to maintain what little control I had left.
But it was slipping. Everything was slipping.
His hand moved again, not to strike, but to grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him. My breath hitched, fear spiking as our eyes met. "You still have some fight left in you, I see."
I wanted to fight back, to tell him he was wrong, but the energy was draining from me, my body weakening with every passing second. I could feel myself fading, the black dots multiplying, until they swallowed everything.
And then, the darkness took me.
*******