“You know, we’ve been together a whole month now. That’s thirty days of a solid relationship. And we’ve only had one argument,” I joked.
She narrowed her eyes in response, unable to speak.
Gently fingering her curls, my dick hardened in anticipation.
Reaching into my back pocket, I removed her father’s Swiss knife and flicked out the blade.
Removing the dildo from her mouth, I dragged it down, through the path between her breasts, over her navel, her slit, and stopped right at her ass.
I’d already gone in there once, but too much anal was never a bad thing.
I watched her throat bob, knew she was probably recalling it. I’d fucked her tight little ass bloody, and then made her suck the mess off my dick.
Such good times we’d had together in this short amount of time. I planned to have many more, starting right this moment.
Instead of using my fingers to spread her cheeks apart, I used the side of the knife, pulling to the right as I pushed the dildo in.
She shut her eyes, biting down on her lower lip in discomfort. I shoved it in as far it would go, pushing the blade into her globe just to hear the pained cry that spilled from her mouth.
A trickle of crimson ran right down her ass crack, dripping onto the brown vinyl.
I left the dildo where it was, and freed my cock. She wasn’t ready for me, but I didn’t care. I pushed inside her and remained there until every drop of semen was emptied from my balls.
–Chapter Eleven–
Harper
-12 weeks-
The sound of silence was overwhelming.
Darkness penetrated everything around me. I saw it when my eyes were open, and when they were closed.
I breathed it into my lungs every time I inhaled, expelling it back out into the cool air.
I lay on the mattress, vacantly staring up at the ceiling with no motivation to get up.
There was no point.
Nothing ever changed. The hours were endless, and I didn’t know when the day was over or beginning.
I missed my family. I missed my home. I missed my fucking cat. I missed my life the way it was.
J said I’d been here a month, one, two, maybe even three weeks ago.
Wasn’t it after forty-eight hours that hope began to diminish?
I didn’t want to be an unsolved case file tossed in the back of a cabinet.
My worst fear was that I became nothing more than a memory. One that caused pain and kept those I loved up at night.
My heart ached, splintering into pieces every time I thought about it.
I was alive, living in fucking hell, forcing myself to be compliant and playful with a man I hated with every fiber of my being just to gain a grain of his trust.
I hadn’t given up yet; I was going to get out. I’d be home again one day.
I prayed my family knew that.
–Chapter Twelve–
J
-6 months-
“I need to hurt you.”
I had to say it twice, the second time a little louder, for my voice to penetrate her sleeping brain.
She jolted awake, dark lashes sweeping upward to reveal those precious brown eyes of hers.
They could be so expressive, holding so much hatred.
I had my fingers between her legs already, working her swollen nub in rapid circles.
Her pussy was tender and puffy from being fucked raw almost once a day.
Today, this made three.
She sucked her teeth in obvious discomfort.
I smirked, watching the way she tried to lie there and accept it like a good girl.
She hadn’t been with anyone in months before I took her, and now I used every hole she had whenever I wished.
I’d gone home to be with Minnie. I stayed long enough for her to fall asleep during a movie, and left before she could ask any questions.
After the day I’d had, it was either go to Malignant and fuck a whore bloody, or come to the cabin and play with my new toy.
Lately, Harper won every time.
She didn’t say much, but she listened when I talked, and I liked that. Sometimes after I wore myself out, I stuck around and told her about my day.
Occasionally, she commented.
None of the others behaved as she did. They never got as much of me. It almost made me care, and then I thought better of it. Harper was my whore, a toy, here to appease my sexual desires.
I couldn’t let myself do something reckless like get attached to her, but I could keep her around as long as I wanted.
She fascinated me because there was one thing she had that showed no signs of going anywhere.
Hope.
The day I took that would be the day I was done with her.
I didn’t bother carrying her to the chair, or to remove the chain from her ankle. I’d allow her to be fucked on a mattress this time.
She stared up at me, looking pretty as ever, even with the raccoon eyes she was sporting.
I slid my hands beneath her ass and flipped her onto her stomach, loving her small yelp of surprise.
Grabbing her legs, I spread them wide and dragged her back over my thighs.
“I’m taking this ass again tonight,” I announced.
Her breath caught briefly, and I smiled. Gripping my already freed dick, I placed it at her puckered hole and knotted a hand in her hair.
I took hold of one globe and pulled it away from the other, shoving Harper’s face into the mattress as I drove into her tight little hole, tearing right through her resistance.
She screamed in pain. I pulled out and drove in again, seeing a bit of blood on my tip.
I rode her body into the mattress, fucking her ass so hard she was sobbing silently before I was halfway done.
“Good girl,” I praised, tightening my grip on her hair.
By the way I had her face pressed into the bed, I knew breathing was a bit of a task.
Her muscles clenched around my dick, more blood running down my shaft.
I pulled out and lifted her up by the hair, brown eyes bulging as she was forced to double back.
Fresh tears were coating her cheeks when I shoved my dick in her face.
“Suck it,” I demanded, pulling her hair until her eyes were merely tiny slits.
Her lips parted, and I shoved myself down her throat. My balls swung into her chin as I fucked her face.
“Take it,” I growled when she tried to pull away, gagging and choking. She had foam damn near coming out the sides of her mouth.
My balls tightened, my release a few thrusts away.
“Fuuuck,” I groaned, pulling out and coming all over her face, chest, and hair.
Having got what I came for, I wiped myself off using strands of her hair, leaving her sputtering in the dark, covered in my come.
I drove home listening to soft jazz crooning from the stereo of my Mercedez.
Tapping my fingers and bobbing my head, I felt ten times lighter. That’s what Harper was meant for.
I could use her on my bad days, my good days…any day I wanted, however I wanted.
Father always told me, “Never fuck your wife like a dirty whore. That’s what pretty little toys were meant for.”
If you broke your wife, well, that wasn’t someone you could easily replace. A toy, however, was fixable, disposable, and replaceable.
As exceptionally special as my sweet Harper was, she still wasn’t an exception to the rule. One day, her body would be worn, her pussy and ass too familiar, the flicker of light in her eyes snuffed out.
One day.
Then, I would have to move on, for Minnie’s sake.
Or maybe not. I would still very much like to keep her around until her body withered into nothing, but Minnie wouldn’t understand that.
Father knew; he understood.
Mother knew; she understood.
They had nurtured my darker perversions.
Father was the one who taught me the
correct way to obtain and detain the women I wanted.
Sometimes, I thought I missed the old bastard.
I had him and my mother to thank for my upbringing. If it weren’t for them, I’d never have turned out as well as I did.
–Chapter Thirteen–
Harper
-Present-
I drew the blinds and double checked that all four locks on my front door were in place.
My mom had a bad habit of waltzing right into my house without knocking.
I went from the living room right into the kitchen. My home was an open concept, with a loft style bedroom I could see from anywhere.
I didn’t like enclosed spaces; the bathroom and my den were the only exceptions. After pissing and shitting in buckets, the toilet became a holy grail. The other room kept my secrets within it.
“Get down, Toby,” I chastised, shooing the chubby tiger cat off my counter.
He hopped down, giving me a mean case of resting bitch face.
Ignoring him, I grabbed my frozen dinner of Salisbury steak, and made my way into the den, sliding the door shut behind me.
The room looked inconspicuous enough. There was a desk in the corner for my Mac, a black futon against one wall, and a coffee table with a vase of fake flowers on top of it.
Sitting my plastic tray down, I approached the thick butterfly canvas hanging on the wall. I’d made it myself to conceal things too easily found.
Running my fingers down the side of it, I found the nearly invisible latch and pushed it in, opening the canvas like I would the cover of a book.
I scanned over the contents.
A list of male names that started with ‘J’ hung in the upper corner.
Another one with all those names, plus addresses of those that matched in the area, hung beside it.
The majority were crossed out.
A bottle of Cool Water cologne sat on the ledge. I’d never forget what J smelled like, but I had a permanent reminder just in case.
Multiple other gatherings were inside, including a reward flyer with my face on it. My old face, the one with the sultry make-up, long hair, and wide smile.
Sometimes I looked at all I’d accumulated over the last few months and felt utterly defeated.
Then, I looked over at the silver stopwatch.
I could still hear it ticking even in the silence.
It reminded me of the vow I’d made to myself.
I would find him.
I never wanted another person to endure what I or any of the other girls had.
It had to be me who found him, not the police. The kind of justice we all deserved wasn’t one the system would approve of. Jail wasn’t good enough. A quick death was too merciful. He deserved to reap everything he’d sowed.
Peace through vengeance.
It was all I had to keep me going. Nothing was going to stop me. I wanted him to know pain like I did. I picked the watch up, turning it over in my hand. It was ironic to me that the only time I’d gone back to that pile of rubble, this was right on top, glinting in the light.
It had represented the countdown on my life, and the true beginning of the end of my stay in hell.
–Chapter Fourteen–
Harper
-1 year 4 months-
Time passed differently without the rising and setting of the sun.
I tried to keep track of the days by tearing little strips of paper from the mints I was given in place of toothpaste, but eventually, everything bled together.
My diet still consisted of two bottles of water, a sleeve of saltine crackers, and occasionally beef jerky. When I was extra good, I got Bugles and root beer. I now loathed both of them.
I’d lost enough weight that I could count my ribs if I sucked my stomach in.
Leaning against the wall, I clicked on my flashlight, aiming it around and pretending the light still worked.
The smell of urine and feces assaulted my senses with every breath I took.
It overpowered the stench of menstrual blood trickling down my legs. I wasn’t given pads or tampons. It’d been a long while since I’d seen either or.
I looked at the five days my period lasted as a blessing every time it came. It let me know I wasn’t carrying J’s spawn. There was a downside to this, though. It meant sleeping on the floor, so I didn’t further stain my mattress.
I bounced my knee up and down, wondering if he would show up today. I needed him to.
I was ready now.
I continued waiting.
I’d hear him the second he turned the doorknob.
My senses had changed over time. The silence made me hear everything. The darkness made me see differently.
The loneliness was sometimes the worst of the three because it made me crave the very thing I despised.
Hearing a soft click, I sat straight up.
When a low groan from the wooden door followed, my heartbeat doubled.
The bright light flickered on, and his dress shoes came down the stairs. I turned my imaginary flashlight off and placed it on the floor.
I squinted from the change in lighting, watching J’s form come into view. “There’s my favorite girl,” he grinned, unlocking the cell door right away.
I used my best impression of an excited grin, impatient to put my long-awaited plan in motion.
I’d done nothing but preserve my energy and do what I had to to gain bits of trust, which was why the chain was no longer around my ankle.
I’d become exactly what he wanted: the best little fuck toy he could ever ask for.
If he wanted his cock sucked, I sucked it dry. When he needed to take his frustrations out on my pussy, I held perfect posture and let him completely dominate me.
I stopped feeling sorry for myself the third time he made me come. Fucking for freedom was a small price to pay to escape this shithole.
“I brought you something.” He walked in the cell and held up a Wendy’s bag.
“All I wanted was you,” I replied, lying through my teeth.
The burger I could smell inside that paper bag was ten times more appealing.
“That’s good, because you’ll have to eat this cold. We have to be quick today; I have a dinner party to attend, and Minnie insists on being early, as always.”
I nodded sympathetically like I gave a flying fuck.
“I’d never make you do anything you didn’t want to do,” I said, looking down at my lap.
He came closer, lifting my chin with his knuckles.
“You know you mean more to me than she does,” he sighed, stroking my cheek.
I gazed into his eyes, pulling my lower lip between my teeth. He honestly believed I wanted him to leave his wife for me.
He was also full of shit. I knew I was easily replaceable.
We continued our drawn-out game of fucking with each other's heads.
His eyes zoned in on the blood, more brown than red in the poor lighting.
“Stand up,” he said suddenly, carelessly tossing the burger on the floor.
I rose to my feet, and he was instantly on me, pushing me back against the wall.
“Take me out,” he rasped, spreading my legs apart.
My hands went to his belt, quickly undoing it. I tucked a finger in the elastic of his drawers, pulling them down just over his hips along with his slacks.
His cock jutted up, pressing against my thigh.
He grabbed the base, hooking one of my legs over his hip, swiftly forcing himself inside me.
I dug my nails into his forearms, rising slightly on my tiptoes as he went straight into a rapid, hard pace.
There was never any foreplay, not on my end. This wasn’t about any of that. This was about him fulfilling his sick needs.
I was explicitly here for his sexual gratification.
He never made me come because he wanted me to feel pleasure; he made me come to prove he had the power to do so.
Pressing my face into his chest, I focused on the feel of his cock
moving in and out, rolling my hips to hurry him along and find my own release.
I moaned for him, purposely clenching my walls until he fucked me harder, and I no longer had to fake it.
The way we used one another was vile. I wanted to know how a man like him could lock a woman away and fuck her like an animal, even though she was filthy, even when the smell of piss and shit flowed into his lungs every time he breathed.
How he could fuck her even as she balanced herself in a small puddle of the same blood now coating his cock.
It was revolting.
I wondered when I started getting off on it.
Digging my nails in deeper, I spread my legs a little further to take in more of him. He grunted, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my heaving chest.
I was going to come. The climax hung just out of reach; I needed him to push me over the edge one last time.
“J,” I moaned as he brought me a little closer. When I finally went over, I said it again, feeling my legs quiver.
He pulled out and shoved me to my knees before I could fully come down. I knew from multiple previous experiences that he was irritated he hadn’t come yet.
“Suck it clean,” he said gruffly, hitting my face with his cock.
I hid a smile and wrapped my fingers around the sticky base, holding eye contact as I began to stroke him up and down slowly.
He pulsed against my palm, his smooth skin the warmest thing I ever got to touch anymore. I continued until pre-cum dribbled.
I opened my mouth, closing it around the head of his cock, tasting my come, blood, and juices on my tongue.
I lowered my head even more, beginning to suck him, slow but hard.
“Just like that,” he soughed, pushing me down even lower. He thrust his hips, hitting my gag reflex.
I relaxed my throat and tried to breathe, blinking the water from my eyes. Moving my hands up, I moved them over the back pockets on his slacks, going up to grip his ass. My heart sank when I felt no sign of my father’s hunting knife—only the faint outline of the key to the cell.
How could he carry it with him every single time but this?
He used it on me often.
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