Twisted by the glory of such perfect pain, what was dry became drenched. It ran down her thighs, clung like droplets of rain to the hair on his tight balls.
He abused her, left her aching and bone broken, and drew her greedy cunt through the worst sort of debasement and bliss.
Belly sloshing with his blood, she moved past fear straight into the red fires of the hell he’d designed for her. She came with such power it fractured her crumbling mind into pieces no amount of sweet words or broken promises would ever put back together.
You worship only me. He whispered the word into her mind. I am your God.
Darius slid from her twitching insides, cock hard as rock and pulsating as its master rolled his drooling conquest to her back. Thighs straddling her head, glorying in the smears of his blood over her chin, lips, and cheeks, he commanded, “Open your mouth. You are to swallow this too.”
She didn’t understand, and from his feral grin, it was obvious he took great pleasure in her innocence. Though could it be called innocence? Night after night did he not use his treasure, do unspeakable things to her, and work his evil over her body? After he was done, did he not strip away her thoughts and leave her a shell to wake again in this cold room, startled and scared.
A blank slate he could paint with blood.
A stupid girl he could pin down, where he might relish the pleasure of watching the shock on her face as he forced his cock past her lips and down her throat, choking her and denying her air.
Tongue pressed flat, her blunt teeth scraping the sides of his shaft, he ruthlessly fucked her mouth. When she began to bite, something changed, a look in the fiery red eyes, and Pearl swore that meat down her throat kicked.
The devil roared, pressing forward with such strength he tore out bits of her hair.
Salty tang burned like bile, coating her tongue, stinging her throat, and dripping from the corners of her
swollen lips. Mashing his pelvis to her skull, Darius ushered more of that poison down his pulsating shaft and straight into her belly.
He held her that way after the last drop was spilled, watching her suffocate as if the view were magnificent.
Frantic for air, she begged with wide, wet eyes.
He smiled, yet did not move. “Speak of your God again, Pearl. Name him.”
Scratching at his thigh, working her throat around his softened tool, she garbled, desperate to form the sounds of his name in a bid for freedom.
A satisfied cock popped from her lips, bloody vomit and tears following.
Much of what he had given her was spilled, come and blood pooling on the bed. As she heaved, he patted her head, as if a good dog has performed well.
Arms came around her. Cuddled to her back despite the mess, he pressed his lips to her ear. “There is no reason to be afraid of the demands I make on your body. I would never truly harm you past the point your body might regenerate.”
She was sobbing, coughing between gasps. “And tomorrow I will have forgotten, and you will do this again.”
“Hush, child.” Darius kissed the back of her head, sliding his fingers over her ribs, across a sick belly, and lower still, until he cupped her bruised sex. “You’ve pleased me. As a reward, I swear to be the sweet lover you wish for tomorrow. I’ll fool you into smiles and laughter. When I fuck you, I won’t draw blood. You have my word.”
His word meant nothing to her. “And you have mine that I will hate you tomorrow as much as I hate you today.”
He smiled, and let his finger penetrate where she was slippery with his come. There they played no matter her sulking or lingering discomfort. “You love me, kara sevde, of that I have no doubt.”
Chapter 7
There were so many pages, unfamiliar entry after entry—all of them in her handwriting. Yet, each lacked a date, filling up the tome that sat upon the room’s solitary desk with a vague story of her time in this stone room.
I did not sleep last night, and when Darius came to me again, he smiled as if he knew I’d waited for his return. Bone tired, I was poor company, but he was kind to me. He even offered an explanation. My sentence in this room, he claimed, is twice the lifetime of the man I killed.
Chadwick Parker had not been a young man, and I worry I might be trapped here for near a century.
How many times had Pearl read this first entry? It was impossible to know, but the page was growing worn and the book was filled with hundreds if not thousands of similarly pinned memories.
Darius held my hand when I grew sad at this news, claimed he hated to see my anguish. That is why he enforces his gift. My memory each night is wiped away so I might be spared from a monotonous eternity in prison. One day he’ll hold my hand as I am set free. One day, I’ll be allowed to meet others like me. I’ll never be alone again.
Flipping through the journal, Pearl looked for something she couldn’t pin. Over and over this Darius character was mentioned, but so far, she’d seen no sign of anyone in the cramped cell. Which was well and good. Yet something about the book was disturbing, obvious in its wrongness, but with no explanation.