by Cerys du Lys
My raw, abused pussy demanded more action! Come here, big boy, and show me what you've got. I lost track of how many orgasms they gave me. A lot. One after the other. Sometimes I had multiples, too. They tried to get up and leave but I managed to latch my legs around their waist and keep them in me long enough to pant out something like, "Fuck! I'm still cumming. I'm cumming again. Keep going."
They kept going, and I had three or four orgasms sometimes, but eventually I grew so tired I couldn't keep it up.
This was difficult. I started getting more than one man at a time, because it seemed like that'd help? They couldn't both leave at the same time, right? But one left, and the other stayed. Damnit! I needed three. Maybe four? How many men could I take on at once in order to get one to finally stay afterwards, so I could seduce answers from him and figure out how to save Noah?
This was all for Noah. I was doing it for him. Why didn't they understand?
I found three of them and was having sex with all of them at once when I heard a wailing cry shouted through the halls. I somehow managed to look over while two men pounded into me at once and another had his cock in my mouth.
I saw that woman, barely. I only saw her because of a mirror in one of the halls, reflecting her naked butt as she ran away from where I was. I hadn't seen her in a long time even though I'd been looking for her and hoping to figure out where Noah was, but it never worked.
I saw her now, though. I saw what door she came out of, too. Why was she running and screaming down the halls?
Probably because of Noah. I smiled a little thinking about it. Now I knew, though. I knew where Noah was. I would go there and find him as soon as I finished up what I was doing. An orgasm burst through my body, mixing with the countless others I'd had in the past few days. I shuddered as the silent men pounded into me. They wouldn't stop right away, but they'd stop soon. Once they did, and once I regained some of my strength, I would go rescue Noah.
*** Noah
I sit on my fucking bed and stare at the fucking ceiling and feel fucking worthless. Fuck.
I'm not going to. I can probably leave, but I'm not going to. I'm feeling really fucking stupid right now and I have half a mind to shackle myself up again. I don't, though. I like being able to move. I'm going to lay on this fucking bed until she comes back. She fucking said it, didn't she? If I got off the bed, she'd kill me.
Fuck you, Angeline. I'm fucking holding you to it, you psychotic bitch. I should do it. I should fucking step onto the floor just to piss her off. I want her to fucking slap me and then I'll grab her and I don't know what the fuck we'll do.
I'm not going to submit to her or any bullshit like that. I don't even know if that's what she was doing. I don't fucking know. I don't know a damned thing. She's as confusing as ever, and still insane and crazy and a bitch, so I'm not sure why I'm trying to figure this shit out now. I thought I was done trying to figure Angeline out, but no, I'm not. I can't fucking leave it be.
I hear it. Someone's at the other side of the door. By the sound of it, they're fidgeting with the lock. I don't know what the fuck kind of lock it is. Key? Just some deadbolt? What? Fuck it. Who cares? I don't. I'm beyond caring. I can't fucking care. It's impossible. I never cared before, so why should I start now?
That's not entirely true, but fuck you. Go to fucking hell and fuck off. I don't have to explain myself to you.
She opens the door and I try to think of something to say, except it isn't Angeline. Who the fuck is this? She looks like a fucking mess with disheveled hair and fucked up clothes. The clothes are technically fine, but it looks like she just fucking tossed them on without giving a damn what she looked like after. The bitch smells like sex, too. Do you know how much sex you need to have to actually smell like sex? Trust me, it's a lot. This girl needs to take a fucking shower.
"Noah," she says to me. "I finally found you."
The fuck? She looks familiar, but I can't place it at first. How's this bitch know my name?
Oh. I figure it out after a second. It's Chastity Fucking White. What the fuck is she doing here? I don't think Angeline sent her, because why the fuck would she?
"We can escape now, Noah," she says. "Come on, let's get out of here."
What the fuck is she going on about? I don't know what the fuck she's been doing recently, and honestly I don't care. She can go back to doing it, or she can get out of here on her own, I guess. What the fuck do I care?
Nah, that's not true. She can't leave. She can try, but she can't. First off, I doubt Angeline would make it easy, and second, I don't want her to leave because that'll fuck up Angeline's set up. I don't know what the fuck her set up is, or where the fuck we are, but I'm not just going to help Chastity White escape. Yeah, that'll screw over Angeline, but I'm not going to get out of this scot-free, either. The police or the FBI or who the fuck ever will show up, they take down Angeline, they start asking questions, and I get brought in along with her.
Sounds like a shit deal to me. Chastity White can stay here for all I care. Obviously she's got it pretty good so far, too. I'm the one who's been chained up and had my nails ripped out while this Chastity bitch has been doing who knows what, wandering around without supervision.
Fuck her. I tell her as much. "Go the fuck away."
"Noah, what's wrong?" she asks. "Did that woman hurt you?"
That woman? Yeah, she did fucking hurt me. Maybe if I show her, that'll scare her off. I hold up my hand, revealing my fingernails, or lack thereof.
"Oh!" she says, startled.
I feel like that's it, and now she'll run away screaming, but she doesn't. What the fuck? Chastity Goddamn White scampers towards me and takes my hand in hers, petting me like I'm a fucking puppy dog. I fucking stare at her, but she's oblivious.
"Does it hurt?" she asks.
What the fuck question is that? I almost want to drag her to that room and rip one of her nails out myself just to show her what's up.
"She's not a nice person," she says.
Yeah, I fucking know this already, Chastity. "Look," I say. "You don't want her to come back and fucking find you. Get the fuck out of here."
She smiles at me like I'm a fucking child. "Come on, Noah. I'll protect you from her."
I laugh because that's the most amusing fucking thing I've ever heard. She'll protect me from Angeline? Good fucking luck with that one. Angeline will destroy her. Ignoring everything else, which is hard to do, Chastity has probably never had a single bad thing happen in her life before me. Even with that, what the fuck actually happened? So she went out on her twenty-first birthday, got shitface drunk, I took her back to my place, and I slapped her? Whoa shit, someone call the fucking circus because we need some clowns over here to set up her damn pity party.
Boo fucking hoo. Get a damn life, bitch.
She's pulling on my arm now and trying to whisper hurried pleas for me to come with her. I'm getting sick of it. I was sick of it before, and now I'm even more sick of it. I pull my hand away from her and slap her. She stares at me like I've just slapped her, which I did. Glad we've got that out of the way. I sit up and I stand over her and I slap her again.
It fucking hurts, but fuck her. Fuck everything. Shut the fuck up. Pain shoots through my fingers, aching and hot.
"Get the fuck out of here," I say. "Go back to doing whatever the fuck you were doing."
She sniffles and fucking whimpers at me. "Noah, I don't know what she's done to you but I can help you. Noah, we can leave together. We can escape. I... I saw her. She ran off. You beat her, Noah. I know what you've been going through must be hard, but... you did it. She's gone. We can leave now. We can..."
Fuck. Fuck her! Fucking fucking fuck fuck. I wish I had more fucking ways to explain how fucking pissed off I am right now, but I don't. That's all I've got.
I grab Chastity by the throat and I shove her to the ground. I pin her there with one arm, keeping her locked down with brute force. She just fucking flails her arms and legs around like a useles
s fucking octopus or some shit. It's sickening. I'm so fucking angry. I don't do this. I'm never angry. Fuck off, Chastity.
She's crying now and her face is hot and red. I let go of her throat and she draws in a deep breath. I let her breathe for a second, then I choke her again. I press my knee onto her stomach and I fucking stare at her.
I don't know what I'm going to do to her. I want to scare her so she'll go the fuck away, but I tried that already and she didn't go the fuck away. I don't usually have to try hard to get someone to want to run away from me. I don't know if I'm losing my touch or Chastity White is completely fucking clueless.
I don't notice when someone else enters the room. It's Angeline. I spot her out of the corner of my eye while I'm pinning Chastity to the ground. Angeline steps close to me and backhands me. Her knuckles slam into my ear. My eyes go black for a second and there's an incessant fucking ringing sound. She kicks my side and I plummet to the floor. I fall off of Chastity and lay on the ground in a curled up heap.
"What are you doing, Noah?" Angeline asks.
I don't even know how the fuck to respond to that. I'm trying to get this bitch to leave. I'm trying to fucking help you, Angeline, in my own fucked up way. Also, I fucking hate Chastity White now. I don't know why. There's no reason for it. She just pisses me off. I went too far, though. I'm fucking stupid. I don't know how to handle this shit anymore. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
I tell her all of this in my own way, using three words. "Fuck off, love."
My vision is blurry, but I see Angeline grab Chastity by the hair and drag her out of the room. She says something to someone out there, and a couple seconds later Chastity is screaming. Sounds like someone's dragging her off. The screams grow quieter with each passing second, but I can still fucking hear them echoing through the halls and ringing in my ears.
"I hate you, Noah," Angeline says. She returns and stands at my side while I lay in a ball on the floor.
"Join the fucking club," I say.
*** Angeline
Noah is hurting her. He is choking her and the look in his eyes tell me that he does not know how strong he is right now. I do not know why she is here. I do not want her here. I do not want Noah to kill her, though.
Noah does not kill. That is not what he does. He does what I do, although he does it differently. I try not to kill. I try to stop myself. I have urges, though. I cannot. I am not responsible for the consequences of other people's actions. It is not my fault. It is...
I stop him. I hurt Noah. He slumps to the ground and I grab her golden hair and pull her out of the room. One of the nameless men is walking down the halls and I demand he come to me. He does.
"Take her away from here," I say. "She is never to be near him. Send me someone else. I will bring Noah to another room. Keep her occupied until you are told to do otherwise."
I think that will work. I do not know where I will bring Noah yet. I hate him and I want to kill him for hurting me. I hate him even more after what I have just seen. He is not the person I remember. He is not the person I have watched. I do not know who this person is. Noah, who are you? Are you sweet and kind or do you deserve to die like all the rest? Must I kill you? I thought you were different.
Someone comes and I order him to bring Noah with us. We will leave. We leave now. Noah is in no condition to put up a fight. He comes without a struggle.
I bring him to my room. We arrive at my sanctuary. It is white again, but I remember how it was before. Noah spit his blood on my beautiful carpet. I hurt him then, and more of his rich crimson blood spilled on my dress and my carpet and the rest of the room. It is different now, though. Everything is redone. It is white again, and perfect and clean. The opalescence strikes me as divinely empowering. I am not that, though. I am not heavenly, I am fallen and dark. Someone must scratch and beg and plead for every kind offering given to them, because no one else will do it for you. No one else can. We are responsible for ourselves, and nothing more.
I do not know if I believe that or not. I used to. It did not help me. The most important help I have ever received was when I was unable to scratch, no one allowed me to beg, and my pleading fell on deaf ears. I was broken. I am still broken. I do not want to be broken. I do not deserve tranquility or the unrequited comfort of a mysterious benefactor, his assistance like a soft and soothing balm rubbed into my soul and the very essence of my existence.
I do not deserve this, and yet it does not stop me from desiring it. I think that is a part of what makes me broken. I wish for things that I should not have.
It feels safe here. I feel safe. I do not think Noah will feel safe here. He should not feel safe, either. I am angry with him. I do not know if he will receive help from a kind hand. It is beyond me. I am not in control of him or his life. I never intend to be. He will die or he will live. It is up to him to choose his own fate.
The man carries Noah in and I tell him to strap Noah to the wall like before. He does. Noah does not struggle. He is limp in his shackles, his head is spinning and he is disoriented.
The nameless man leaves and now it is only us, Noah and I.
I slap him hard across the face. I cannot think trivial thoughts any longer. "Do you think you are strong?" I ask. "Is that why you hurt her? I did not tell you to do that, Noah. Why did you do that? Did someone tell you to do that?"
If I did not tell him to do it, who did? Did someone else? I must know. I need to know.
His face droops and he struggles to speak. I slap him again.
"Fuck off, Ange," he says. "She pissed me off. What the fuck was she doing in my room to begin with? You're just letting her fucking wander around? What the fuck?"
"What I do is none of your concern," I say.
"Fuck you," he says. "When she comes crying to me and begs me to fucking escape with her, it's my concern. Was that some test of yours? See what the fuck I would do? You're fucking crazy, love. I don't know how to tell you this in a nice way, but fuck you. It's not nice. It's never going to be nice. You're a fucking bitch and you're psychotic and insane and none of the shit you do makes any fucking sense. I'm tired of your fucking head games."
"Head games?" I ask. I am furious. "Do you want to see head games, Noah?"
I slap him again, and again, and again. His head jerks to the left, then the right, then the left. When I am done slapping him, I bite him. We are in my white room, my sanctuary. I bite his lip and make him bleed and I taste him. He is bitter and disgusting and I hate him.
"Do it," I say. "You know what this is, Noah. If you get blood on my white floor I will kill you. I promise you that. I will kill you right now and you will die and I will hate you forever."
He stuffs his lip in his mouth and sucks hard. He is going to. I do not know if I want him to. I am so angry at him and I hate him and I want to kill him. I want all of his blood. I want it to spill fast from his body and soak into the carpet until the floor beneath my feet is thick with red and nothing more. I do not want to be able to walk without feeling the slick pull of Noah's blood at my bare soles. I have told him I will kill him if he does it, and I will. That will be his punishment. I do not know if he deserves it, but I have told him.
It is his choice whether he lives or dies. I am but a mere vessel of vengeance, meting out his justice. I am not responsible for the consequences of his actions. What he does is his own choice, and what I do will be a reaction to his choosing. I am sorry, Noah, but I am not responsible. I am not. I am not! It is not... I did not... I never wanted this...
Noah is stubborn. He is vulgar and rude and he does not listen. He will never listen, he will always be rude, he will continue to be vulgar. This is who he is. I am not trying to train him to be a slave because we both know he will never be one. It is impossible. The only way I can make him into one is to completely destroy him. The only command he will ever obey is when I tell him to die and then I stab a knife into his heart. That is the only time he will listen.
I shake and tremble as I walk a
cross the room to a chest of drawers. My hands hurt when I open the top drawer. My fingers ache and my chest constricts and my heart hurts. I need medicine. There is no medicine I can take for this, though. They do not have medicine for people like me. No one will give me what I need. What is the point of giving medicine to someone who is already dead?
I take a sharp knife from the drawer and slowly turn around. I expect to see blood on my carpet. When I see it, I will go into a rage and I will rush Noah and I will kill him immediately. I try to stop. I hold the knife with both hands and watch it shaking and trembling in my fingertips. I almost drop it, but I force myself to squeeze the handle tighter. My fingernails dig into a leather hilt that is both strong and soft to the touch.
I look. I see Noah. He is chained up against the wall, body limp and leaning forwards. His lip is in his mouth. He looks at me, so sad and hurt, and I cry.
He does listen. He did. I need it. I need him. Please, Noah. Please? Understand. Remember. I do not know how to tell him this, so instead I run towards him. I am carrying the knife, but I do not stab him with it. I drop it at his feet and I cling to him. My arms wrap tight around his strong and soft body and I bury my cheek against him and I cry.
His lips press against the top of my head. It is too much. I can't. I need to leave. I leave. I go. I squeeze Noah tight one last time and then I leave him in my white sanctuary. He remains shackled to the wall. I turn to look over my shoulder one final time before I close the door and leave him in darkness. His bottom lip quivers and a drop of blood almost falls to his feet, but he slowly pulls it into his mouth and sucks it away.
I turn off the light. I close the door. I lock it.
Goodbye, Noah. Goodbye. I do not know what will happen to you. I do not know if I will ever be able to see you again. I am sorry. Please forgive me. I am sorry.
(Day Fifteen)
*** Noah
I'm in a room in the dark. That's all I know. I don't know how long I've been here. I don't know how long I'll be here. I don't know anything except that I'm in a fucking room in the fucking dark.
