by Dani René
A middle finger searches my opening. “Can… Can I—”
“Yes. Please, yes.”
The finger glides into me so perfectly, as if it’s meant to be there.
Tate keeps closing his mouth to swallow as if I’m truly making his mouth water. Then he reopens it to breathe as if there is no other possible way to inhale. I think he loves every minute of this. Tate seems only able to see my juncture while his finger slides in and out of me. “You’re so soft.” His thumb rubs over my clit, causing me to arch, bearing down on his hand. His breathing is erotically erratic. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
My head flails side to side. “Don’t you dare.”
Another finger joins the delicious torture, his thumb not slowing. There is no pain or discomfort at all. It dawns on me that I’m most likely not a virgin. The only shame in the matter is that someone may have been here before Tate.
Never again.
In delightful abandon, my legs fall open.
My feet spread. I want Tate to have full access to claim what will always be his.
Air is rushing in and out of his gaping mouth. “I’ve never been so turned on in my life.”
His fingers delve deeper, sending me into a frenzy. A sensational build has my core throbbing with heat and absolute need. I need to stay quiet, but it’s becoming impossible. “T-Tate, I’m… I… Go harder.”
Tate rushes back to hover over me, one hand bracing him while his other works my channel like an instrument, ringing noises out of me as I beg for the release his efforts are promising. His mouth slams to mine, muffling my cry as an orgasm rips through me with such a force it feels like a savage beast just mystically staked a claim over my whole body.
Forehead to forehead, our gasping mixes together like two storms joining forces.
His hand finally slips from my exasperated core and grips the nape of my neck. I can feel my wetness on his fingers, smearing against my skin as if Tate is reminding me what he just did to me. He owned my body. But it is not domination that his words speak of. It is adoration.
“I love you.”
I have no way of knowing if those words have ever been spoken to me before, but I’m thankful. I only want to hear them from Tate. “Be with me.”
His sharp inhale tells me Tate knows exactly what I mean. Bracing his weight on his hands that are on each side of my head, his biceps shake, but not from a lack of strength. I think he is fighting for patience. Cautiously, and without breaking eye contact with me, Tate lowers his body. His elbows sink to the mattress, and his legs unfold. We keep staring at each other, both anticipating the touch so new to us. We both gasp at the slight contact. He swallows again when my pelvis tilts, asking for his entry.
Tate slips his hands under my shoulders and grips them tightly. “Evermore,” he whispers before his arm muscles contract, pulling his body forward.
We both take a quick inhale when the tip of his penis enters me. The sensation of a body joining mine is bewildering and fulfilling beyond the physical feeling. It feels as if our two souls are blending. As he surges, every stretch of my inner wall is welcomed. I become his, and he becomes mine. It’s a wonderful awareness since it’s possible I’ve never belonged to anyone.
Once he fills me, pelvis to pelvis, my body melts into the bed. I want to yell “yes” because I’m in Heaven, but don’t want anyone to learn he’s in here with me. That would mean an end to this beautiful, much-needed night. So, in silence, I rock with the young man moving above me like a soft melody to my restless spirit. Gentle thrusts are the music we dance to. Sweat is our only blanket, and it’s wonderful.
As if being the one needing to be silenced this time, Tate places his open lips to mine. Greedy moans echo in my mouth as his body shudders its own orgasm. The thought that a part of him is floating inside my channel makes me hope we never stop making love tonight. Ambitious, my hands tightly grip his butt and pull him deeper, begging his movements not to end.
Barely able to breathe, his tongue dives in my mouth as if he may eat me alive from the inside out. I don’t care. In fact, I welcome the attack as long as he keeps bringing me this immense pleasure that is radiating through everything that I am.
Buttocks flex and retract under my hands, his shaft delving and gliding in both our fluids. Tate surrenders to his climax yet has no hesitation in attempting to build another. This time, I feel a stir so deep in my core, my fingers dig into his muscles—the only action I can take to not wake anyone through my second orgasm.
As my body reaps the reward of such a high, Tate surges toward another climax. His head falls to my neck as his hands tighten, pulling on my shoulders so he can sink deeper inside of me. He holds his breath as the next ejaculation rips through his inexperienced body.
When he finally catches his breath, he slowly pulls his face to mine. His eyes widen when he sees my tears. But I smile. “Only happy ones.”
A smile grows across his sweaty face, too. “Yes, only happy ones… Lacey.”
Gasp.
Chapter 3
Disciplined Pain
Will I ever find peace? Or forever be on my knees?
There is no rhyme, no reason, for all this unknown treason
Memories must be found
Or I shall never be sound
“You are very quiet today,” notices my doctor as we sit in Serenity’s flower garden. I appreciate the thoughtfulness behind such a serene place for the patients, and my doctor’s kindness for suggesting we be outdoors. But the sun is hiding behind some clouds, not helping my dreary mood. The quiet is much cherished, though. I have a lot on my mind.
Sitting across the table from Doctor Landon, I stare at the dark figures looming behind him. “I’m not sure what to trust.” I had a beautiful evening with Tate last night and was feeling so much better, but I must’ve fallen asleep. He was gone when I woke. I never had the chance to ask why he called me Lacey, nor did I get to say goodbye after such a monumental evening. This is leaving me feeling overwhelmed and nervous.
Doctor Landon studies my eyes and how they are not focused on him. Only beyond... “Just because you see illusions doesn’t mean you are delusional.”
Forcing myself to look away, I take a sip of water from a plastic cup. Glass is not an option. Patients could break it and permanently escape our unwanted reality. I’ve already explained to Doctor Landon I would never take my own life, but I haven’t told him why. If he knew of the boy sneaking through my window, I’m sure he would disapprove. Tate’s visits are my only peace. “Your claim is a bit confusing.”
He sits back in his chair. Stray sunrays appear and shine off his greying hair. “Just because you are seeing… things that I may not see doesn’t mean it’s not happening. What if the four men behind me are real? Not at this moment, of course, but elsewhere.”
A chill seizes my breath to the point my hand races to my chest to beg my heart to keep beating. I dare a peek at the figures behind him.
He folds his hands in his lap. “I don’t think you have a Delusional Disorder. I fear—” He catches himself. “I believe what you see behind me are memories. You have Dissociative Amnesia. I believe your memories are fighting to come forward. Maybe for good reason.”
Even with the sip of water, my lips are dry again. “So, I can get better?” I sound desperate, I know, but I am. I want this—whatever my life is—to be over.
“Or,” he pauses as if debating on how much to say but finally relinquishes, “protect yourself,” then studies me.
His meaning dawns on me, but possibly not how he would expect. “Do you think those… people… would want to hurt someone I know? Or care for?” Would they hurt Tate? Should I tell Doctor Landon so he can help protect him?
Doctor Landon smiles. “That is so kind of you, Vera, but I will remain safe, I assure you.”
Nervously, I nod, understanding why he assumed I was speaking of him. Doctor Landon believes he’s the only person I know. I gasp when a realization hits me.
“What is it, Vera?”
I stare at the shadows behind Doctor Landon, wondering why they haven’t appeared behind Tate whenever he visits. “Why are they always behind you?” Agitated, I gesture about. “There are other patients here. Other doctors I see with them. A-And orderlies.” My skin breaks out into a sweat. “Why only you?”
“Truth? No holding back?”
My nostrils flare at his ridiculous question.
He surrenders as if stepping outside of his normal doctor mode. “I happen to believe it’s because your subconscious knows I can help you remember.” He winces while shaking his head. “I don’t think you want to.” He mumbles, “Most likely, rightfully so.” Then he shrugs, possibly wanting to relax my growing tension. “Or, it can be as simple as you never converse with anyone other than me.”
I look away because that is not exactly accurate.
“Vera? Have you spoken to anyone other than me?”
Panicking to change the subject, I blurt, “I think my name may be Lacey.”
My doctor sits up straight and stutters in shock and glee. “W-What? Really? Did you have another memory?”
Dismissively, I shrug, happy he is no longer inquiring about Tate. “Just heard that name in my head.”
He exhales as if utterly pleased with this breakthrough that is rocking my lonely world. “This is incredible, Ver—” Doctor Landon sighs, “Lacey.”
Not sure why, I suddenly feel completely annoyed. My jaw is rigid, and I want to hit something. I almost growl, “Can I go to my room now?”
Doctor Landon blinks in dismay before finding his professional attitude. “Will you first explain why you seem so frustrated all of a sudden?”
I stand so fast my chair slides back in a rush. “You’re the doctor! You tell me!” My sudden rage is bewildering and uncontrollable. “Maybe it’s because this news may be awful. Who is Lacey? What is she like? Does she even want to be found?” I start to angry cry. “Does she want to be lost?” I walk around my chair and stand behind it, resting my tense hands on the back of it. “Am I even her?” I rattle the chair. “Why are you smiling at me?”
“You’re asking questions!” Happily, he stands. “Look at you!” He heavily whispers with emotions, “You’re fighting for your future. You actually want to know more.”
After I pause to consider his meaning, my knees give, so I hold on to the back of the chair and squat while trying to catch my breath. I let my head hang because I unexpectedly feel it is too weighted to lift. I’m not sure how many moments have passed before I ask, “What if my future is bleak?”
Doctor Landon kneels at my side and sounds hopeful. “What if it is full of joy? What if, by not fighting for what’s yours, you miss out on bliss?”
Tate… I rub at my chest. I simply cannot handle the thought of being without him. But then I remember the dark figures may want to hurt him. “Will you think bad of me if I tell you I’m still scared?”
Doctor Landon chuckles. “Not all. I can only be impressed that you are so brave to admit what anyone would be feeling right now in your shoes.”
Tears drip from my eyes and onto the pavers under my feet. “Doctor Landon?”
“Yes,” his smile grows as he attempts to temporarily name me, “Whoever You Choose To Be.”
Choice… That word and what it entails somehow erupts inside me. I burst into tears, so desperate to have such power and authority over my own life. The war of emotions in my heart is screaming that this so-called human right has never been mine. This all makes no sense and is confusing me further.
Needing affection on such a sincere level, I start to lean into my doctor but stop myself.
Doctor Landon is a smart man and reads my actions. I sigh when his arms pull me to him. “I’m here for you. As long as you need me to be.”
Again, simple words spoken rock through my soul as if they are words I have desperately yearned to hear, yet never have. “Thank you,” I cry. “Even if you’re are the only person who has never given up on me, I promise to never forget you.”
His embrace tightens. “That is an honor coming from someone with amnesia.” His head rests on top of mine in a fatherly manner that pokes at me somewhere deep inside.
Even after returning to my room, I keep feeling an invisible nudge to my gut, like a bubble from far below the surface of an ocean, racing toward freedom, the surface silently promises. The bubble wants to burst into the night air and transform into a breeze it has always dreamt of being. Yes, I decide, I want to be where I belong. I want to know!
Pacing in my dark room with only one lamp lit, I think of how Doctor Landon held me. How it felt fatherly. And safe. Do I have a father? Is he looking for me?
I start banging on my chest that now feels as if something is missing. Or someone is missing—
Pain suddenly sears through my soul as if God himself has let loose his fury. But what does this pain mean? What is it that I’m not remembering? Letting my tired head fall back, I beg to the Heavens above, “What do you want me to know?”
Answered prayers are not always beautiful.
At first, fragments of memories pelt my mind and gut in a disorienting manner that has my stomach souring. Emotions, both alarming and disheartening, flood my newfound muddled state. I see places, faces, smiles, and disturbing grimaces, all making me experience a mental earthquake of sorts.
Then, a memory slams into me as if I have been shoved into an old movie house and forced to watch the cinematic event from the actor’s point of view.
Just like that, I remember my home, my family… and all I fear about some of them…
Around the age of six, in my parents’ garage, I laid on a wooden workshop table, not by my own free will. My two older brothers were present—ten-year-old twins, Jarod and Jake. They had brown eyes and short dark hair like my father’s. I was more of my mother. She had blonde hair and green eyes.
The other two boys present were the twins’ best friends, Damien and Crow. Damien, with haunting blue eyes, was eleven. Crow, also with spooky blue eyes, was ten. Both had blondish hair that laid flat.
Jake and Crow were holding down my upper body by force. It was easy for them with me so small and defenseless. Their young faces were evilly elated with my struggles. Their breathing matched my panicked breaths but for much different reasons. Pain was creating mine. Pleasure created theirs.
Jarod was holding down my legs. I cried, “What’s happening?” when I felt Damien touch cold metal to the bottom of my feet. I got no spoken responses, but curious eyes studied me as hands unexpectedly lifted, releasing me. I quickly tried to sit up and escape, but my whole little body suddenly seized, contorting with no muscle control while electric shocks shot through me.
My crippled body collapsed back to the table when the electrocution ended. Laughter erupted instead of pity.
Jarod cheered, “Did you see that?”
Crow smiled in amazement, then demanded, “Do it again!”
Without a chance to catch my breath, my tiny body arched off the wooden table, only the back of my head and heels supporting me. With my jaw locked, I painfully felt frozen in time before crashing back into reality. My back slammed to the wood beneath me when the electric zap ended again. There were no tender touches checking on my wellbeing.
Only mad curiosity.
I’m not sure how many times I was electrocuted by my brothers and their best friends before my head fell to the side in exhaustion and a shock not related to the electricity. My spirit seemed to take the heaviest jolt of all. My heart broke as my older brothers, figures who should have wanted to protect me, celebrated my anguish. Laughter mixed with high-fives and intense embraces as if these boys had unlocked the secret of life. They seemed enthralled with my mental terror as much as my physical affliction.
My torture feeds their needs.
My suffering is their natural high.
My misery is the outlet for their sadistic ways.
My despair… Their ecstasy.
Four sets of eyes stared at the redness on his skin as if the sight beckoned them to become vampires. Hunger stirred within them all as their eyes refocused on me. Mouths were gaping, sucking in air and exhaling in an aggressive manner. I felt as if they were preparing to tear into my flesh, savagely.
So engrossed in their appalling high, the boys didn’t hear my father come home or enter the garage, searching for his children. What he saw had him paling before screaming, “What the hell is this?” Daddy shoved the four boys out of the way, horrified. “What are you doing?” His eyes caught something near my feet. “Are you shocking her?”
An internal sigh exuded from me when hearing my rescuer arrive. There is a strength in good fathers that little girls look to for protection. That’s why I had told him about my brothers being mean to me. But Daddy had said, “Boys will be boys. Don’t tell Mama. It will only make her worry. I’ll have a talk with the boys.”
I don’t know if this talk ever took place, but now Daddy was yelling, “Is this what she meant by you ‘hurting’ her?”
Now, looking back, I recognize the unexpected pleasure all four torturers were experiencing when getting caught. My father’s horror seemed to be as pleasurable to them as was my pain. My young heart was grateful for the man who had come to save me, unaware of what was truly happening.
After noticing who was with my brothers, Daddy’s lips twisted in disgust. “And you two? I will be telling your parents...”
Shaken from the trauma, I couldn’t sit up on my own, so my dad helped me, holding me to him. My ear rested on his chest, hearing his stampeding heart and yells of fury. My stunned feet dangled off a side of the table. The rest of me felt like I no longer possessed bones. Even though my thoughts were hazy, my adrenaline had given me the clarity to notice Jarod ignoring Dad’s ranting and pulling a bottle of something from a shelf. Even at this young age, I was not as innocent as I should have been. Instead, I was becoming rapidly aware of the malice these brothers, together, could conjure. I touched Daddy’s arm to make him alert of the lingering danger, but he was far too distraught to hear my silent warnings. All he saw was a recent burn on my palm. Realization blinded him. “Oh, God… Did they do this to you, too?” He screamed at the brothers, “You said she grabbed a hot spoon!”
