It’s a silent communication.
An understanding.
I’m the beast and you’re my prey, his eyes tell me.
Don’t let me be a coward or allow me to escape, must be what I’m communicating back.
Still maintaining eye contact, he slides the blunt side of his knife through my folds. A sense of terror takes hold of me, but that slowly subsides when the rhythm becomes pleasurable.
He teases my clit in rough circles until I’m bucking, reaching, arching my back off the deck.
And then, all of a sudden, he pushes off me and unbuttons his jeans.
The moment his hard shaft is freed, I gasp. Yes, I saw it last night, but I was drunk and he didn’t fuck me. I still think it’s too big for sex.
A sense of apprehension rushes through me and I place a hand on his chest, shaking my head.
The neon mask camouflages his expression, but I can see his eyes through the holes, all dark and terrifying.
He’s going to hurt me. I can read it loud and clear.
Jeremy snatches both my wrists and slams them on the wood above my head. “Keep them there and stop touching me.”
My lips tremble and I whisper, “I…need more time.”
I can’t let him take my virginity like an animal, on a deck, in the midst of owls, crows, and ravens.
Something I should’ve thought about when he asked me to run.
Jeremy lifts his mask and throws it away, revealing his sharp, handsome features. I can’t see him clearly due to the lack of light, but the little I do see causes my heart to beat faster and my core clenches tighter.
He slides the knife from my pussy to my hip, up my stomach, and then grazes the tip against my nipple. A droplet of blood gathers on the tight bud, then rolls down the side of my breast that’s firm with arousal.
His hooded gaze watches the path of the blood, and I do, too, transfixed by the weirdly erotic sight.
But then an eruption happens.
His lips fall on me. He darts his tongue out and licks the droplet of blood, chases it and drinks it off my skin, and then bites my nipple. Hard.
Holy. Shit.
A zap of pleasure strikes the base of my stomach and expands to the rest of my body. I’m still not used to the sensation when he yanks my thighs farther apart and thrusts into my pussy.
My insides recoil and I jerk on the rough wood.
Pain explodes where he tears through me and it hurts. It hurts so much that I cry and try to push at him, but that only makes him thrust again. Brutally.
“Please…please.” I dig my nails into his chest, but I might as well be touching an unfeeling wall.
“Shhh. I told you I’ll break this little cunt, didn’t I? You’re taking my cock so well, Lisichka. Mmm. So fucking tight. Your blood is the best lube I’ve ever had.” He drives in again and my limbs shake from the violence of it.
He doesn’t take it easy. He definitely doesn’t let me adjust.
He’s a beast after his own pleasure and I’m just the vessel at his disposal.
No matter how much I sob and beg, he’s not hearing me. A part of me likes this. I like the primal savagery of it all and how harshly he takes me.
I don’t want him to take it easy on me.
I’d never admit this, but a part of me enjoys how he massacres my hymen and uses my blood and arousal as lube.
He drives inside me with harsh strokes, pulling out to the crown, then ramming back in until my back scrapes on the deck.
He does that over and over until I think I’m going to faint.
But something entirely different happens.
In the middle of the savage fucking and methodical thrusts, my belly tightens, my nipples pucker, and my skin heats so suddenly, I think he’s probably killing me with his thing.
“Mmm. Such a good girl. Do you feel your cunt milking my cock?”
My mouth falls open, but only choked gasps escape. My heart thunders as the tightening heightens and the pain morphs into the exact opposite.
Pleasure.
Boundless.
Absolutely insane.
It’s the type of desire that comes from extreme pain. The knowledge that he wants me so much, he’s hurting me.
He wants to hurt me.
He finds pleasure in chasing, manhandling, and fucking me like an animal.
My insides coil and rebel.
I fall into it.
Into being ravaged, taken, taken, and taken.
He craves my softness as much as I yearn for his dominant cruelty.
“You’re addictive. I want to break you.” Thrust. “Own you.” Thrust. “Mark you.”
He accentuates the last statement by biting my throat in the exact spot he did yesterday.
Everything inside me comes crashing down as sharp pain and pleasure overlap and detonate me all at once.
I’m falling and screaming and moaning, and he’s still fucking me.
He’s thrusting inside me like a madman, and then he’s feasting on my neck, biting, sucking, licking. I can feel him stiffening before warmth floods my insides.
And then he lifts his head, chasing crimson red off his lips with his tongue.
My blood.
He’s marked me fully, thoroughly.
It’s painful, it’s erotic.
It’s wrong.
But feels absolutely right.
CECILY
At seven p.m. sharp, I’m at the location Jeremy sent me.
I must have some sort of a death wish or a loose screw, because I came here despite the million and one wrong reasons my brain came up with to dissuade me from doing this.
But if I followed logic, I wouldn’t be able to fully live. I wouldn’t be able to come out of my shell and try what I signed up for on that app.
I promised myself that if I had a tinge of the crippling panic attack and nausea that comes with anything related to sex, I’d leave immediately.
On the drive here, I waited for that familiar anxiety, the sweating, and the metaphorical paralysis of my mind.
None of them came.
The only thing that’s been bubbling in my veins is unbounded excitement.
The type that flows through your blood and confiscates your thoughts.
The type that simmers beneath the surface, unable to find refuge anywhere except inward.
From my car, I stare at the property surrounded by barbed wire. It’s not a house, a mansion, or even a building.
It’s more like…a cottage in the middle of a large piece of land. It’s like the one Papa and his friends meet at and brought us along to when we were kids.
Only, this one appears unruly, unkempt, like a gothic cathedral that has been abandoned for years.
The darkness doesn’t do it any favors; shadows extend over the length of the cottage that appears small in the distance.
Large trees appear like demons with horns, and the wild bushes and grass give it an eerie vibe.
If it weren’t for the metal gate, one would think this is an abandoned property.
I search both ways down the road in case this isn’t the place Jeremy sent me to, but the maps app clearly said, ‘You’ve arrived.’ Besides, there’s only unkempt land on either side and across the street.
The road leading here wasn’t as smooth as the rest on the island. Hell, I didn’t know this place existed. It’s far away, secluded, and might as well be unknown. Definitely not somewhere I want to be during the night when predators come out to play.
A haunting screech assaults my ears and I flinch as the gate slowly opens.
I glance to the side again, then I drive through.
By the time I reach the cottage, the gate has closed and I’m trapped inside.
Unless I just drive back out.
No.
I’m simply not allowing those second thoughts to dictate my life anymore.
After a deep inhale, I step out of the car, throw a fleeting glimpse at my surroundings, then shiver at the demon-like trees.
After a thorough inspection of the place, I raise my hand to knock on the old wooden door of the cottage.
Or cathedral. I think this was really a cathedral once upon a time and was renovated to something else.
A creak announces that the door is being opened and I step inside, my legs shaking despite the pep talk I gave myself on the way here.
“Jeremy?” My voice is haunting in the otherworldly silence, interrupted by the occasional haunting owl’s cries in the distance.
My feet come to a stop right past the entrance upon seeing the vintage fireplace.
It’s on the opposite wall, lighting what looks to be an antique living room. Old sofas, a washed-out rug, and wood flooring.
A gust of wind coming from the door disturbs the fire and a slight shudder creeps up my spine.
My gaze strays to the dark stairs on my right. I swear some creatures of the night are lurking up there, waiting for my demise.
Maybe ghosts, too.
“Jeremy, are you there?” My quivering voice has decided it’s going to give away my fear and there’s simply nothing I can do about it.
I take a step forward and stop when the fire dances again and then goes out, turning everything black.
My heart hammers and a chill covers my unsteady limbs. I don’t have to see it, to feel the sudden change of atmosphere.
There’s a presence behind me.
Tall, harsh, and darker than the night.
But before I can move, something cold is placed at my throat.
A knife.
He’s holding a freaking knife to my neck. This isn’t what I signed up for—there was no mention of knives.
“Je—”
“Shh.” His voice has lowered, deepened, and is tugging on a secret part of me. “You don’t say my name.”
I swallow, my throat working against the metal blade.
Right.
We’re anonymous now.
It’s not about us as people, but more about how we’re both tools for pleasure. In this setting, I don’t have to think about repercussions or feel shame for wanting this type of barbarity.
That knowledge fills me with unbounded peace.
I let my body relax and even the freezing weight of the knife doesn’t scare me.
It’s one second in time, a second of silence, of mutual understanding.
But then he’s on me.