Page 37 of The Spiral
“No!” I scream out, desperately trying to avoid his unexpected fury as he growls in my ear and pushes my weight away. My legs scrabble away from him, real fear reducing my whimpers to ones of horror as I head for the doorway.
He laughs behind me. It rumbles through the room, reverberating off the floor beneath my hands and knees as I keep scurrying.
“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” I keep going, hoping the door arrives faster than I know it will. “We’re far from finished in here.”
I pick myself up, feet scuffing the wood as I reach my arms for the doorway and lengthen my strides to get away. He’s grabbed my stomach and is hauling me backwards before I’ve managed four strides, his wide arm wrapping me back into his hold regardless of my struggle.
He laughs out, amused at me as he walks back the way I came. It doesn’t matter how much I struggle or how much I twist in his arms, he just continues chuckling and then drops me to the floor again in the same position I started in. “We’ll start again. You know what to do.”
I don’t.
I look at the floor, terrified by his amusement as I tremble beneath him. I’m so scared—scared of what I’m feeling, scared of what he wants. And I’m so cold and lonely here, no matter the voice that was talking in my head.
“Look at me,” he snarls. I can’t. I’m too afraid.
He wrenches my chin upwards and raises his other hand into the air. I’m so sure he’s going to hit me that I cower away from him, tucking my face into my neck and lowering myself further towards the floor until my nose is by it. He chuckles, gently putting his finger beneath my chin again and inching me back towards him.
“I’ve never hit you before, have I?”
I flick my eyes back and forth, searching for something to let me know if he has or not. How would I know? He’s never hit me, no, but it isn’t just me inside my head anymore. There’s someone else there now, too.
Jack, help us.
“Help me.”
I shake my head at my own voice whispering the words into the air. I don’t know what they mean, or why I’ve said them. They’re not my words. I didn’t want to say them. They just came out, spilling into the air as if I have no control in this room. “This isn’t real,” I whisper. “Something’s not right here.”
“Everything’s perfect. You’re perfect. Talk to me. We’ll find our way together.” His fingers glide up my thigh again, teasing their way to the place that needs them most. “You need to tell me why you’re here.”
I stare into the dull light from the huge windows, splinters of white filtering in and then starting to dissipate back to a dull grey in the room. It draws me to it, focusing me onto something that I can’t quite grasp. “Don’t you leave me,” he says, a slight crack in his voice that makes me turn my cheek into his face as he tightens his hand on my waist. “I’m not letting you go this time. You’re coming home where you belong.”
My own hand travels to his face, stroking the side of it as I gaze into something familiar and try to seek sense. There isn’t any to find.
I can’t think anymore. It’s all too confusing. I’m here on the floor, naked, with a man wrapped around me and no sense involved in any of it. My legs try to push me up from my knees, but his body clamps tighter around me as the light decreases again.
“Do I need to fuck you into remembering?”
Oh god, that language. It’s suddenly so clear again. His tone, the way he moulds a cadence around his dirty talk. It’s so memorable. So resonating. But I’ve never been here before. I don’t…
My head shakes again, wishing I remembered clearly. “I...”
His hand clamps around my mouth tightly, shoving me into the mirror again and widening my legs as he manoeuvres himself behind me.
“You’re not leaving me.”
It all happens so quickly, as if I’m not even a participant for a few minutes. He’s just there inside me, his cock buried with no movement from either of us. And it fits so perfectly, as if it was made to sit inside just me. The heat of my breath tickles back at me from his hand covering my mouth, and a residual memory of being trapped or tied in some way ebbs into my brain. It should frighten me, but it doesn’t. It floods me with serene thoughts as his grip tightens to painful.
“Are you ready for more?” he says, his tone gravelly as he breathes heavily against my neck and pushes my shoulders into the mirror further. “How much do you need to remember us?”
My skin still prickles. I can feel it heating my flesh as his body chafes against it and shoves me into a wider position. “Rougher? Shall I choke it out of you?”
I wish I could say my eyes widen in fear, or that my body reacts as a normal one would to the threat of pain, but neither of those things happen. Instead, my insides clamp his cock, surprising me and making me drool against his fingers.
“There you are again,” he says, a chuckle barely skimming his words. He slides himself out a little, causing a whimper to leave my lips as I stare at his reflection. He doesn’t remove his eyes from mine as he teases the edges of me, giving me nothing to clamp onto again. “You always were best at releasing when treated like this.” He rears back away from me, his eyes looking at my back as he watches his own cock glancing in and out with no pressure. “Perhaps you’ll remember when we talk. I’ll draw your bath, just like I always do.” What?
I hover against the mirror, my hands still fixed to it like some sort of glue is holding me in place, and I listen to the dull echo of his feet leaving me, still yearning for him inside me again. But he’s gone without another word to explain any further. And I ache here, deprived of him. My mind’s confused. My limbs feel cold suddenly, almost lost without his heat wrapped around me. And my brain is muddled, unfocused. The only thing I can feel with any clarity is the sense of loss that seems attached to my soul at his departure.