Page 7 of Bishop

My heart cracks bit by bit as I listen to the horrible things they call Gabrielle and the way they praise me for giving them what they want.

I hate myself for this.

Hate that we've been put into this position in the first place.

Pulling myself out of her, I let my head fall down, ashamed of what I've done, only to feel Gabrielle reach up, encircling her arms around my neck. We bury our faces into each other's necks and cry hard. The release is short-lived because before we have a chance to catch our breath, Shade and his guards are back in the room, ripping us apart.

The transaction is done. I've taken away a small piece of Gabrielle's dignity and lost a large chunk of my hope in the process.

The worst part of it all is knowing that this is only the beginning. They'll come back for us again. This carnal craving won't be sated with just one performance; I'm going to have to hurt Gabrielle again. Even though I know she'll forgives me, I'm not sure I'm ever going to be able to forgive myself.

Five

Gabrielle

Hurting should never feel this good.

My body hums with need as Bishop thrusts hard into me.

"That's right, Gabi, let me see you. Show me what I want." His dark eyes are pinpoint, completely focused on me and nothing else. His intensity not only forces me to forget where I am but it's almost as if I can't hear all the people around us. The ones who paid for this show. The ones who are trying to degrade me. All that matters is Bishop is here. Tonight's request is by far my most favorite. There's no real physical pain, just complete trust. The clients wanted to see him choke me. Wanted me flailing and clawing at him, and Bishop did exactly what they asked. What they don't know is I trust Bishop with my life. I know he's not going to go far enough to kill me and I can just give myself over to him, completely.

I moan loudly as he buries one hand under my hips and lifts me slightly off the ground, his shaft stroking against the perfect spot inside of me.

"Breathe, baby," he mutters, and I follow his directions to the tee. I take in a deep breath and slowly feel his other hand tighten more and more around my neck. My orgasm floats just out of reach along with my next breath. Lights flash in front of my eyes and my body feels weightless for far longer than I would've thought was possible. Just as the edges of my vision begin to go dark, he releases his hold on my throat, and I suck in a sharp breath. My orgasm slams into me and I scream out in pleasure. He growls in satisfaction and the people around us cheer. I know we're nothing more than beasts to them, but after all they've put me through, I have to say I've almost come to depend on this time with Bishop.

Somehow, him ravaging my body in this way is keeping me sane. It's letting me feel when everything else about me is becoming numb.

I tried to force myself to believe that it was all just sex, but I know deep down it's more than that. It's addiction. Obsession. An unhealthy connection that my traumatized mind is hanging on to in order to get through this.

Over and over Bishop chokes me, sometimes straightforward, other times with a hand over my mouth and nose, finally ending with him choking me from behind. He really put on a show for the people in the audience as well as pleasing my body. But the minute it's over, that bliss I was just feeling turns right back into anger. Not at him, but at Shade and Liam and the rest of the Faceless. I hate that they made me like this. Hate that they've made me tap into this part of myself when in any other world I'd have never known that I enjoyed this particular kink. They took a part of my self-discovery for themselves and I'm never going to get it back.

Like always, the second Bishop is finished, he holds me tight and buries his face in my neck. We don't cry anymore. It's not worth the emotional drainage that comes after it, but we refuse to look at the people that paid to watch us as they file out. Refuse to watch them give us thumbs up and clap at the spectacle that was us.

Over the weeks that we've been here, they call on Bishop and me to perform at least once a week. He always fights. Always tries to find a way not to do it, but in the end, we end up having sex while all these bastards watch and tape us. In the end, I can't convince myself I don't like it. I'm addicted through and through.

"Let's go. I don't have all day." Shade rushes into the room and pulls Bishop and me apart. My legs are weak, and it takes me a second to get the strength to walk on my own.

"Get off of me," I grumble and try to pull my arms away from the grimy grasps of the guards. I wish I hadn't, because the minute I'm away from them I fall down to my knees. Instead of the normal laughter that would follow a showing like this, all I hear is agitation. Something else is happening here today that I'm not aware of. Whatever it is, I hope it's messed up their day even just a little bit. I can't get back my sanity because of what these bastards did to me, but at least they don't have to have a great day all the time.

"Either you move your ass, or we leave you in here for the night. It's your choice," one of the guards growls in my direction. I let my gaze slide up until I connect with his. There's no joy on his face, no sarcasm; he means it. He'll leave me here in this room if I don't move. I don't necessarily want to be locked in the cell any longer, but I've been in this glass cage long enough to know what happens when all the lights go down. It's colder than a morgue in here and there's no place for me to relieve myself if I need to. This is definitely not where I want to be for the night.

"I'm going. I'm going as fast as I can," I mutter and get to my feet.

Both Bishop and I are pushed out of the room and nearly run into the main room where we've been held since we've gotten here. I'm not sure what the rush is, but I can't focus on it right now. All I can focus on is the hum at the very edges of my subconscious. That last bit of pleasure my body is feeling because of what Bishop did to me earlier. In the past weeks, I'd have reminded myself that I don't like what happens to me. I'd have reminded myself that I wasn't a willing participant in any of it, but today I don't want to fight the feelings anymore. The fact that I'm so willing to give into this feeling is what scares me the most.

"Are you hurt?" Bishop grumbles as the heavy door to our cell is closed and we're left to ourselves yet again.

"I'm fine," I whisper, my voice cracking as the words pass my lips.

"Gabrielle." His voice chips at the barrier I have around myself. I don't want to break down, but I don't have much of a choice.

As if someone broke the dam inside my soul, I drop my face to my hands and begin to cry.

"No, please don't. I can't take it. Please," Bishop's voice is strained as he hobbles over to where I am and wraps his arms around me. I can always count on him to soothe me. It's what he's best at—making me feel better. Making me feel good.

He's always been here for me, giving me exactly what I had no idea I'd even needed.

"Gabi, don't cry. We're going to get through this." He cradles me against his chest, his fingers massaging and caressing the back of my neck and the base of my scalp.