Page 31 of Stolen
When the owner returned, he withdrew a rather large knife from his pocket and held it out in his hand for me to see. My body was so sore and wrecked I could barely move to react. A sharp inhale as I held my breath was all I could muster as my eyes took in the sheer sharpness of the blade.
Standing behind me again, he kicked the stool out from under my feet, and I stumbled down, the chains restricting my arms the only things keeping me from crashing to the floor. A loud gasp escaped me as my weight increased the pressure of the cuffs on my wrists. I really thought the cuffs were about to slice right through my wrists.
“This is your last chance,” he rumbled, placing the knife at my throat. “You can surrender to me now, or you can watch yourself die, right here. It’ll be the lastchoice you ever make,” he said, pressing the knife hard against my throat. “Now, tell me your truth.”
I knew it was going to come down to this—the moment when I’d have to decide if I wanted to live through this hell or die and avoid it completely. I thought that maybe if I could last long enough, hold out as long as I could, he would know I wasn’t weak—that I could take it. But with the promise of imminent death scratching at my throat, my time for deliberation was over. I didn’t want to die; I wanted my revenge. And whoever the stupid fucker was who bought me would suffer my wrath, and then I would tear this whole goddamn place down. It wasn’t about what the better alternative was anymore. At this point, it was purely about survival.
“I’m a slave…” I finally whispered.
The look on his face as I uttered the words he had desperately wanted me to say left a permanent mark on my brain. He had won, and he knew it, yet my admission still surprised him.
“What did you say?” he asked, almost shocked I had said it at all.
“I’m a slave,” I croaked again, attempting to add more volume to my broken voice.
He placed the knife back in his pocket and walked around to face me.
“Say it again,” he commanded, looking down at me, but my eyes fell to the floor, unable to hold my head up any longer.
“I’m a slave,” I repeated with more conviction to satisfy him.
“Look in my eyes and tell me. Show me how much you mean it.”
It took every ounce of strength I had to raise my heavy head and look into his eyes. Keeping them locked on his, I gave him exactly what he wanted.
“I’m a slave,” I said, hoping it would be the last time I would have to repeat it.
The corner of his mouth finally curved up into a smile, and he brought both his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks and rubbing his thumbs against my skin. Looking up into those deep blue eyes, the relief I saw in them had to have been a mirage, because there was no way I was worth this much fucking effort.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered and then pressed his lips to mine.
He kissed me with a passion that bordered on violence, and my body melted under his dominance, too weak to do anything else but succumb. Forcing my mouth open with his lips, he possessed my mouth with his tongue, exploring and conquering as it went. I whimpered at his assault but tried not to fight it. I had admitted to him what he thought I was, and now I had to show him that I meant it.
He finally released my mouth and bent down to unlatch the cuffs on my ankles. Rising back up, he reached for the cuffs that held my wrists and released them. My body plummeted for the ground as I had no strength left to catch myself, but his arms caught me and lifted me to his chest with ease. He carried me over to the bed and gently laid me against the soft pillows.
“Do not move,” he warned.
As if I had any energy left to move.
My eyelids fluttered to stay open, but my body still refused to succumb to any form of sleep. I listened as the owner strolled over to the mini fridge and came back to sit down on the bed beside me. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.
I hesitated at first but then obeyed and parted my lips, hoping his dick wasn’t the expected recipient of my compliance. What came, instead, was a cool merciful splash of water as it slowly filled the desert that was my mouth. I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped my lips as the water cooled and eased my scorching throat. I kept my mouth open, greedy for more as he waited for me to finish swallowing. Obliging my obvious need, he tilted the bottle again, and more water filled my mouth.
“Please,” I begged as he pulled back, needing and wanting more.
“You’ll take what I give you and be grateful for it,” he answered. I whined at his response.
“If I give you too much too soon, you’ll choke, and I’m not about to have that. Not after all the progress we just made.”
Stifling my groan, I nodded and rested my head against the pillow, hoping he would continue his so-called generosity. He eventually tilted the bottle again and let me finish it. I had never been so grateful for something as simple as water. It wasn’t a healing remedy, but my body felt slightly better after his exhausting punishment.
When the bottle was empty, he got off the bed and headed for the bathroom. I thought I heard the faucet for the bathtub running as he reemerged from behind the door. Lifting me in his arms again, terror flowed into my veins as I fought pitifully against him.
“No,” I whimpered, trying to push away from him.
I didn’t trust his touch, even if he had just mercifully granted me water.
“What did you just say?” He glared down at me, a warning clear across his face.