Trapped: Her Love Story

by Shannon Youngblood

  Pulled from my thoughts, Paxton climbed on the bed and lifted my hips completely off the mattress.

  “Hold on,” he screamed through gritted teeth before impaling himself into my dripping cunt.

  A wince of pain spiked through me, but I shot it down. I would take every thrust he had to give me. This was his release as much as it was mine.

  True to his word he fucked me with a rage I had only ever witnessed from Preston, only with Paxton. I could feel the love shining through his eyes as he rammed into me over and over again, his fingers seeking out my clit and rubbing vigorous, rough circles on the delicate cluster of nerve endings.

  With every push, my head knocked against the headboard, my body lifting a little bit more off of the bed. I couldn’t contain the next climax as he forged on with his assault on my core. With savage eyes, he reached his hand down and grabbed my breast, pinching and using it as additional leverage to fuck me.

  It was rough. It was demanding. It was Paxton, and it was perfect. He never slowed down, as he flipped me over onto my stomach, pushing my knees into my throat, before diving back into my swollen pussy. I felt, rather than saw him, reach forward and slide his hands around my throat.

  “You’re mine, Wendy Darling. For fucking ever. No man could ever tame this pussy as I can. I love this dirty fucking cunt, and I will love it until my dying breath, so help me God!” Paxton roared, tightening his hands, and stilling behind me, his cum shooting deep inside my quivering walls, as I struggled to take a breath.

  Right before the walls closed in on me, Paxton let go, allowing my lungs to suck in the much-needed oxygen they craved. I turned my head, looking over my shoulder at the man kneeling behind me, his dick still pulsating.

  “I love you, Paxton.”

  “I love you too,” he whispered, his eyes shining, matching his words before he pulled out of me and climbed up to join me at the head of the bed.

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked, his fingers tracing my jawline.

  “No. I don’t think you ever could. That was perfect, Paxton,” I whispered, my eyes already closing.

  “You only get a few minutes, before I have to take you again.”

  “Only if you take off your shirt,” I mumbled before sleep claimed me.

  After what felt like only a few short minutes later, I woke with a start, Paxton nowhere to be seen, only to be thrust into the world of pleasure by a tongue piercing my sensitive entrance.

  “Lay back, Wendy Darling. Now it’s time to fuck you like I love you, and I do,” he whispered against me, parting my folds and licking me ferociously.

  I could do nothing but follow his directive as he speared me with his tongue, his fingers, and his lips. Like a starving man, dumped at an all you can eat buffet, Paxton brought me pleasure like I’d never known before, stopping only to catch his breath before diving back into me.

  “I could drown in your cum, girl and be the happiest man on the fucking planet,” he proclaimed after my third orgasm, kissing me on my lips, the saltiness and musk coating my mouth.

  “My turn?” I giggled, the worries and cares of the world forgotten, if only for a few precious hours.

  “What did you have in mind?” He asked me, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, his hands going behind his head.

  “Let me touch you,” I asked, biting my lip, hoping he’d let me see him.

  “Touch away!” He smirked, tilting his pelvis up, making it obvious what he wanted me to touch.

  I immediately went for his shirt, knowing, the only place I wanted to feel was his chest. To feel the muscles that so effortlessly picked me up and cared for me, was the only thought on my mind.

  “No!” Paxton screamed, grabbing my wrists in midair. “The shirt stays on.”

  “Why?” I pleaded my inner two-year-old pouting at him. “And don’t fucking tell me it’s about your scars. I don’t care about some crazy looking scars, I care about you. I love you!”

  “I can’t do this, I’m not strong enough,” Paxton screamed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up.

  “What the fuck does that mean Paxton?” I screamed reaching for him.

  You know that part in the movie where the hero or the heroine has a slow-motion realization. The light bulb flickers above their head as something intense happens in the background. The audience knew it was coming, but he or she never did. I was having my first slow motion epiphany, and I wished I could take it back and live cluelessly forever.

  My hands found the black fabric of his shirt. Paxton took a step away. The material that was balled in my fingers stretched, a ripping noise filled the air, as Paxton turned to try and untangle my grasp. Suddenly I was holding onto shredded black tatters, and Paxton stood in front of me, naked, covered in a set of number tattoos I instantly recognized. The newest one, the number “12” still fresh and scabbed.

  Chapter 12

  The air around us vibrated, crackling, neither of us saying anything as I stared at the tattoos of the man I hated with every ounce of my being and he stared at me with dead eyes, transformed in an instant from the sparkling blue. Everything was silent, minus the rapid beat of my heart as it beats against the inside of my ribcage threatening to explode from my chest cavity.

  What was happening? Had Preston done something to Paxton? Were the last few hours a complete lie, a ruse? I didn’t know, but I could feel the anger boiling through me, like a teapot ready to whistle in rage, smoke pouring from my ears. Preston was deliberately fucking with me.

  “You! What have you done with him?!” I screamed, my hands balled into fists, still clinging to the torn black shirt, I’d ripped from his body.

  With adrenaline pumping through my veins I took a heated step in his direction, my only focus was to cause as much physical harm as I could to the man — no — the monster in front of me. With my hands still tightly clenched, I raised my fists and punched him in the jaw, sending him stumbling backward, shock written over every feature.

  “Wendy Darling,” he mocked, “You hit me. Why would you hit me?” His hand reached up to caress his chin, a sinister smile playing on his lips, as I flinched with his sudden movements. “Don’t be scared of me,” he whispered, sending a creepy crawly feeling through my naked body.

  “Where is Paxton!” I yelled, taking a step back, reaching blindly for the sheets on the bed behind me to cover my nakedness.

  “Oh no, you don’t, girl. If I have to stand here naked, so do you.”

  “Where is Paxton?!”

  He was purposely avoiding my question, as he pulled the sheet from my hand and threw it behind him.

  “Calm yourself. Paxton is here with us. Don’t you worry that pretty bald little head of yours.”

  Paxton is here with us? What the fuck did that mean? Preston was even more psychotic than I thought.

  “No one is in the room with us Preston. It’s just you and me,” I responded backing away slowly, fear overriding the lingering adrenaline. I put my hands up in front of me like you would in front of a wild animal. This conversation felt like it was taking hours, instead of the mere seconds it had actually been.

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m crazy!” Preston bellowed, making me fall backward on the bed. “Paxton is here with us, right here,” he tapped at his temple.

  Wait. What?

  “I — I don’t understand,” the loss of my courage making my voice small.

  I watched in horror as Preston closed his eyes for a few moments, before opening them, the beautiful blue returning, confusion lacing them.

  “Wendy Darling? What happened? Preston asked, his tone no longer harsh and scary, but perplexed. “Oh, God. Preston. He told you, didn’t he?”

  “You told me what?” I asked him, confused. Why was he talking about himself in the third person?

  “I didn’t tell you, Preston did,” he said.

  “You are Preston!” I screamed, my head pounding, realization creeping its way into my brain before I could stop
it. All of the puzzle pieces falling into place one by one as I realized what was happening seconds before it finally did.

  “No, Wendy Darling. I’m not Preston. I’m Paxton,” he reached his hand out to me.

  White, hot, blinding pain ricocheted around my skull, plummeting me to my knees, forcing my eyes closed. I could feel my entire body being figuratively ripped in half, my whole universe, flipped upside down, and the carpet pulled out from underneath me.

  This was Paxton in front of me. But, it was also Preston. One in the same, two men, one body. But how was it possible? I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe. All of this time, it was only one man? There were too many questions, and not enough answers.

  “Wendy Darling, trust me. You have to run. Get out of here now while he’s gone. I’ll try and hold him back.”

  His words made no sense to me. Paxton was telling me to run, but it was Preston I saw looking at me, talking to me, instructing me. My legs were like concrete blocks, rooting me to the spot, and the ringing in my ears was unbearable. I gripped the sides of my head, covering my ears, trying in vain to block out the buzz, but it was no use, the incessant noise wouldn’t stop.

  “You have to believe me, run, girl. Run.”

  And I did. I ran. I ran into my head. I retreated so far into myself, building the highest wall to block out the world around me. I couldn’t take it anymore. This was all too much for my fragile soul to handle. The man I loved was also the man I hated. Pulling my knees into my chest, I let my tears fall from my bulging eyes, and I rocked.

  “How, how, how, how,” I could hear myself mumbling, but I didn’t even know I was speaking. I was too busy with plaster and brick, blocking my brain in, with no holes to let anything bad or scary ruin me further.

  “You’re not going to run, are you, Wendy Darling?” His exasperated sigh caught my attention.

  “How, how, how, how,” I chanted and rocked.

  It was apparent I would not be forming any coherent sentences on the outside. In my head, I was screaming at him, as I built my barrier, my vocabulary colorful, and expansive.

  Almost as if watching from afar and not sitting feet from him, I saw Paxton change. Gone was the sweet and caring man from mere moments ago, morphed in front of me, back from the recesses of his own mind, Preston stood.

  The change was obvious, and if my circumstances were better, I wouldn’t blame myself for not being able to tell the two apart. Preston had a demanding and demeaning air about him. Standing taller, more defiant, he towered over my puny body begging me to fuck up so he could punish me again. His eyes were cold as he looked me over, disgust curling his upper lip, his eyebrows rising in a sinister fashion.

  “Paxton is strong, slut, but not as strong as I am, and you are going to pay the price,” he yelled, confusing me further, as I begged my subconscious to build faster, to block us out quicker.

  “Price?” I whimpered, not trusting myself with full sentences. My brain was in tattered ruins, and I probably wouldn’t ever recover. Maybe Preston would just kill me. I could only hope.

  “Yes, Bitch. Price. Paxton thought he was stronger than me. He thought he could subdue me. This is my body, not his, and I only allow him residence in my mind because he’s my twin. His insolence is going to cost you.”

  “Cost?”

  “What the fuck? What is wrong with you?” Preston screamed, backhanding me across the face.

  I didn’t even feel the sting, as I placed the last brick between my mind and the outside world. An immediate sense of peace filtered into me, leaving me blissfully ignorant. This was what I needed. A place so far back in my brain I could escape and never have to return. I could still see everything that was happening, still hear every word, but it didn’t affect me.

  Slowly, I managed to sit back up, and continued my rocking.

  “I know you’re in there, little slut. Don’t think you can hide from me. I see what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

  With no hair to grab, Preston picked me up by the throat and dragged me away from the bed and into the glass room. Under normal circumstances, I should have been frightened, but being holed up behind this emotional wall was freeing, and the only thing I felt was disregard.

  Separated from my body, I watched as Preston tied me face front to the St. Andrew’s cross. He grabbed a sinister looking flogger off the wall and with no warning threw his arm back only to fling it forward. The smack was hard, vibrating my teeth, and instantly leaving welts in its wake, but I felt — nothing. No pain, no humiliation, just emptiness.

  With every strike, Preston grew angrier, his lashing harsher, his words more biting, but nothing could penetrate my solitude. I was finally safe and free from his hold. I smiled, knowing he could never reach me. I may be trapped in a new form of prison, but at least this one gave me the ability to rebuild myself without being torn down over and over again.

  “You fucking bitch!” Preston yelled, rearing back and coming down harder than before on my face.

  My lip split, blood dripped down my chest, but I smiled wider, a fit of giggles bubbling up and spilling over. His anger spurred me on, and my belly ached from laughing, my tears falling for the first time, not from pain, but from humor. I was winning.

  The second Preston stormed out of the glass cage surrounding us, my laughter stopped, my subconscious peeking her head out of my secluded fort. He was gone. I was alone. Finally.

  It didn’t last long, though, within minutes Preston flew back into the room, a portable DVD player gripped tightly in his hands.

  “Pain won’t make you come out, and obviously, nothing I say is going to change that. Maybe a home video is what we need,” Preston grinned, turning on the player and facing it in my direction.

  The room was the same as I stood in now, the timetable, foggy. For a few solid minutes, the only thing that could be seen was my body, kneeled on the ground in my regular waiting place. Preston and I both watched as his past self, walked in and we performed our customary entry routine. My subconscious watched in fascination as Preston fucked my throat, her hands covering her eyes, leaving a gap to watch each second that passed.

  There was no audio in this clip, but most of the things said I could probably quote, depending on which night he was showing me. The conversation between our two counterparts flowed, and suddenly, video Preston walked out the door.

  I instantly knew which night this was. The night I’d won my first reward. The cogs in my head turned faster, smoke billowing out of my ears, reliving this night in record time. I had chosen the night of passion with Paxton and a guest, only to find out his guest was actually Preston, but that couldn’t be right.

  If Paxton and Preston were the same man, how did two men fuck me? Who was the other man?

  “I see, you’re getting it now, aren’t you, cunt?” Preston sneered, hitting the fast forward on the tape.

  We watched as a fast moving ‘Paxton’ came into the room where we talked about my reward options, and then he left. We watched as I hurried to the shower, the camera changing to a bathroom view of me quickly sudsing myself down, drying off, and prepping myself for the men. When I was back into position, blindfolded and ready for them, Preston hit play.

  Horror filled the screen, and a scream filled my lungs. I hadn’t been taken by Paxton and Preston. I had been pleasured by Preston and Bill. The four hands that fondled me, loved me, and brought me rounds of intense orgasms had been the hands of men I despised more than anything in the world.

  “There you are!” Preston bellowed, throwing the screen on the bed, and wrapping his hands around my neck, cutting off the circulation and blood flow to my brain, and restricting my access back into my solitude.

  Every lash on my body stung me all at once as awareness flowed through me.

  “Kill me. Please fucking kill me,” I choked, begging Preston to end my misery once and for all.

  “Now where’s the fun in that?” Preston smiled, releasing my throat and stepping back. “Tell
Paxton, he has ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes for what?” I asked, crazed. My sanity depleting.

  “Ten minutes to say his goodbyes,” Preston laughed.

  “I thought you weren’t going to kill me?”

  “I’m not going to kill you, you dumb fucking slut. It’s time for my dearly departed twin to finally move out of my head and find somewhere else to roam. I’m done with him, and when he’s finally out of my thoughts, I’ll be free to do with you as I wish, and no one will be there to pick up the pieces.”

  Closing his eyes, the air around Preston morphed.

  “Paxton!” I screamed. “Paxton!”

  “Wendy Darling. Are you hurt?” Paxton asked, running up to me and loosening the ties binding me to the cross.

  “No, but we only have ten minutes. He’s planning on getting rid of you. Can he do that?” I asked, my words coming out in a jumbled mess, frantically clawing my way out of the rope holding me down.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’ve been with him ever since Paul—” he stopped, dropping his eyes.

  “Ever since Paul what?” I pleaded.

  “Ever since Paul killed me.”

  I took a step away. The story he told me, it was true.

  Reading my mind, he answered my thoughts, “Everything I ever said was true. Never once have I lied about who I am, only about the body that was housing me. I am an alternate side of Preston. When I died, Preston couldn’t cope, and it’s obvious he still can’t. It's why I am still here.”

  “What do I do Paxton. I’m scared!” I crashed into him, burying my face into his neck.

  “Come with me.”

  Pulling me out of the room and into the bathroom, Paxton found a blanket and wrapped me up in it.

  “We have to be fast. I can feel him pacing, waiting to come out and finish the job. He’ll only be free if he has his twelve slaves.”

  Taking my hand again, we rushed up the stairs and headed for the front door. Our ten minutes now down to only three. We weren’t going to make it, and I wanted nothing more than a final kiss before I faced Preston.