Page 46 of Dark Therapy
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The low glow of the television cast shifting shadows across my living room as I tried to lose myself in the movie, hoping for a sliver of normalcy. But it was futile. My mind was too crowded, my nerves too frayed. Every creak of the house, every whisper of the wind outside reminded me that he was never far, that his eyes were always watching.
And then, as if on cue, my phone rang.
Unknowncaller.
I didn’t need to guess who it was. A shiver ran down my spine as I picked it up, the tension in the air thickening, tightening around me. My fingers hovered over the screen for a heartbeat longer than they should have, before I swiped to answer.
I pressed the phone to my ear, holding my breath, and the silence on the other end was as heavy as it was intentional. I couldfeelhim, as if his presence had seeped through the line and wrapped around me, invisible and unbreakable.
“Miss me, Amelia?” His voice was low, dark, every word laced with a desire that felt so possessive and dangerous.
I swallowed, trying to steady myself. “What do you want?”
“Everything,” he replied, his voice dropping to a whisper that felt as if it was brushing against my skin. “Yourfear, yoursurrender… every last piece of you. I want to know that I’m the last thought on your mind when you go to sleep, and the first when you wake up.”
His words twisted inside me, like a snake coiling around my senses. It wasterrifying, and yet, there was something about his tone, the darkness of his desire, that made my pulse race.
“You can’t control me,” I tried to sound defiant, but my voice wavered, betraying the truth.
His laughter was soft and sinister, as if he already knew just how deep his hooks had sunk into me. “Oh, but I can, Millie. I already do.” There was a pause, a dangerous silence that buzzed with anticipation. “Tell me, how many times have you thought of me tonight? How many times have you imagined me there with you,takingwhat’s mine?”
My cheeks burned with a mixture of anger and something darker, something I didn’t want to admit even to myself. “You’re insane,” I managed to say, the words a barely audible whisper.
“Yes, but look at you,” he countered smoothly. “Hanging onto every word like you crave me as much as I crave you.”
A shiver ran through me, my heart pounding, betraying me. Because a part of me knew he was right. No matter howdesperately I tried to ignore it, there was something twisted and undeniable about the pull he had over me.
“I hate you,” I forced out, clinging to those words as if they could anchor me.
“Good,” he breathed, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Hate me all you want. But know that you’re mine. Every night, every thought, every inch of you.”
His words slithered through me, dark and unyielding, wrapping around my mind, as if branding each corner of my thoughts. I gripped the phone tighter, feeling the weight of his possessiveness sink into my skin, as if his voice alone had a tangible hold on me.
“You can fight it, try to deny it,” he continued, his tone softening into something almost gentle, yet unmistakably twisted. “But we both know the truth, don’t we? Even when you close your eyes, when you lie there pretending to escape me, I’m there, lingering in every corner of your mind. You’rehaunted, Amelia. Haunted by me.”
A shudder rolled through me, both from the anger and something deeper, something that made my pulse quicken in ways I didn’t want to admit.
His voice dipped lower, darkening with every word, like an enchantment meant to pull me deeper into his web. “Tell me, Amelia,” he whispered. “When you touch your lips, when your hand drifts between your legs and into that little pussy of yours, do you feel it? The memory of me? Do youfeelmy fingers tracing paths onlyIhave the right to make?”
My throat tightened, the defiance flickering within me, but it was weak, fragile, breaking under the weight of his command. I wanted to fight back, to scream that I was free, that he didn’t control me. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, silence filled the space, my breath hitching as he waited, reveling in the hold he knew he had over me.
“Good girl,” he murmured, the satisfaction in his voice almost unbearable. “Now, I want you to pull down your shorts, and slide your fingers inside your sweet hole.”
His words struck like a spark to dry tinder, igniting something I didn’t want to acknowledge. I scoffed, masking myunease with a brittle laugh, though my pulse betrayed me, pounding wildly in my veins. Theaudacityof him, the nerve to assume he could command me even from the other side of a phone line. “And why the hell would I do that?” I shot back, trying to lace my voice with defiance, but it came out weaker than I intended, tinged with an edge of hesitation I couldn’t hide.
There was a pause, just a heartbeat of silence, and then his laughter, low and dark, filled the line, the sound crawling over my skin like a caress. “Oh, Millie,” he murmured, his voice rich with that twisted amusement, as if I were nothing more than a game he was unraveling piece by piece. “I think you know exactly why. Don’t pretend to be so naive.” He let the words linger, his tone dripping with confidence, with the arrogant assurance that I would bend, that my resistance was only temporary.
“I don’t wantanythingto do with you,” I spat, clinging to the last shreds of my defiance. But even as I spoke, I felt the weight of his influence, the pull he had over me that I couldn’t shake, like an intoxicating shadow that had seeped too deeply into my soul.
“Lie to me all you want, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice soft but dangerously sure, “but we both know the truth. You’recurious… so deliciously curious about what it would feel like to play with your little pussy while I watch you from afar. To give in, to come while I whisper in your ear all the dirty words you so desperately want to hear.”
He’s right. I was curious. And the throbbing between my legs was a constant reminder of the effect his words, his voice, his whole being had on me. Each word seemed to wrap around me, twisting tighter, his voice somehow crawling into every corner of my mind.
“And if you don’t,” he continued, his tone darkening to a sinister velvet, “then I’ll come there myself. I’ll step through that door, and I’ll fuck you so hard until you pass out.” He paused, and I could almost feel his smirk through the line, that unshakable confidence that he held me in his grip.
His words left me breathless, an unsteady gasp escaping before I could catch it, betraying the way they wrapped around me, dark and unrelenting. I could feel the warmth creeping up my neck, a slow, burning heat that spread to my cheeks, then seeped down, curling itself around me like a possessive hand. Itwasmaddening, the way he could pull this reaction from me without even being here, without laying a finger on me. Just his voice, rich and taunting, had slipped past my defenses and set my pulse pounding, igniting a flame that I couldn’t extinguish.