Panic gripped me. “What the hell are you doing?” There was a pause, and then his amused voice spoke. “I told you, give you a clean shower.” I opened my mouth to respond when the first wave of cold water touched my feet. Startled, I squealed. While I tried miserably to crawl out of the tub by rolling over to the edge, the water grew warmer and the kidnapper lifted me back to where I was. "I don't want to take a bath. Release me.” I tried to remove the blindfold, repeatedly slapping myself in the face because my loose arms refused to obey. The kidnapper tried to hold back his laughter but failed. "I don't care if you like it or not, you need to shower." Feeling his hand on my shoulder, I mustered all my strength to fight back. My arms swung back and “landed” where I thought was his face or neck. His fingers grip my hair, pulling my head back at an odd angle. “You want me to act rough too?” he growled close to my ear. When he didn't get an answer, he squeezed his hand even harder,
Eric led his beautiful hostage toward the center of the room. Her steps seemed hesitant, scared, as if he expected him to push her down a steep precipice. He urged her to step forward but in return she only backed up against him. But that's okay. She could stay close to him all night and it wouldn't hurt. Without protest, he let the girl bump into him, almost couldn't help laughing as she let out a gasp and jumped forward like a cat avoiding water. Or in this case, his erection. Eric reached out, gently grasping her arms, and she froze, clearly too scared to move forward or backward. Desire welled up in him. He finally got her - here - between his fingers, under his control. Eric closed his eyes, enjoying himself for a moment. She got here a little over three hours ago, lying on the shoulders of that Jair trash. Bruised, dirty, full of vomit and sweat, but that wasn't the worst part. One of them, and he didn't have to wonder which one, hit her in the face. Anger ran down his spine t
“Damn it!” he yelled as her head hit his nose directly. Instinctively, he released her, pressing the sides of his nose with his hands. She moved very quickly, a stream of dark hair and a bathrobe rushing toward the bedroom door. Eric growled deep in his chest. Rushing toward the girl and grabbing a handful of her robes, but when he pulled her back, she wiped them off the pile of fabric. The voluptuous scent of flesh assaulted all his senses. When the girl's hands reached the bedroom door and found it securely locked, his fingers dug into her hair and clenched into a fist. He jerked her back abruptly, causing her to stumble to the floor. No longer taking her ferocity for granted, no longer enjoying the sight of her thrashing limbs, he sat directly on top of the girl. "Is not!" she screamed desperately, her knees once again searching his groin, her nails determined to dig into his face. "You like to fight, don't you?" He smiled. “I like it too.” Using more force than necessary, he
Jair suddenly entered the room and Eric didn't bother to hide his anger. "What the hell are you doing in here?" Jair was clearly drunk and that made him all the more dangerous. Jair's eyes flashed with anger before striding toward the girl who was curled up on the bed. His gaze roamed over her naked body, and his lips curled into a lustful smile. "It seems to me that the little whore is awake." The girl is scared, very scared. She hastily crouched to the head of the bed, trying to cover herself with her arms and hair - and at the same time trying to pull the sheets up from under her. He suddenly realized the fact that the girl had not reacted like that while they were sitting on the bed together. She seemed more enraged than scared of him, but that was after the blindfold was removed and she realized who he was. That means one of two things: either, she feels she already knows him based on their brief encounter, or two, she finds him unthreatening. Whether it's one or two, the way s
I was seven years old when I was first warned about becoming a whore. It was one of the few times I spent time with my dad, which I remember vividly because he scared the crap out of me. We were watching the movie Return to the Blue Lagoon and Lilly was bewildered when she noticed blood between her legs. I was too young to understand what was going on, so I asked my dad. He said, “Women are filthy whores and filled with filthy blood, so they have to get rid of it every month.” I was so stunned that I fell into an eerie silence. I imagined myself running out of blood, just skin and bones. "Am I a woman, Dad?" My dad took a long gulp from his soft drink rum, "Someday." My eyes blurred with tears as I thought about the horror of losing all my blood, "How can I have more blood?" Dad smiled and hugged me. The smell of alcohol on his breath was always a consolation to me, “You'll have a little girl…just don't be a whore.” I squeezed my dad, "I won't!" Leaning back, I looked into his d
I use it to wash clothes for my family at home. My stomach tightens. I don't hate my mother. I love her. I should have told her that often, even if she rarely told me. Tears hurt my eyes, but right now I couldn't fall to my knees. I had to think of a way to escape. My first instinct was to try using the door, but I brushed it off because it was too stupid. Firstly because I remember it was locked. Plus, if it's not locked, I'm sure I'll run into the kidnappers face to face. The look of that guy, the guy named Jair, his eyes flashed in my mind and a shiver of terror ran down my spine Instead, I tiptoed over to the curtains and pulled them down. The window was boarded shut. I could barely hold back a cry of frustration. Running my fingers around the edge of the wooden plank, I tried to pull it up, but I couldn't. Damn it. The door swung open right behind without warning. I spun around, slamming my back against the wall as if I could blend in with the curtains. Room door is not locked
“Over here,” he said. The voice startled me, but I moved towards him anyway. "Stop. I want you to crawl over here.” My legs trembled. Cow? Are you kidding? Run. Run now. He stood up and looked straight at me. Where do you run? Look how quickly he pushed her to the ground and drugged her! My knees hit the ground. What other option is there? I lowered my head but still felt his eyes on me, like the weight that signaled his hand was about to reach out. My knees and palms move on the ground until they reach the toes of his boots. I am stuck. Almost nude. Weak. Scared. I am his. He leans down and gathers my hair with his hands. Slowly, he pulls my head up until our eyes meet. He looked at me intently; His brows furrowed, his mouth pursed into a rigid line. “I wish he hadn't done this to you,” he said while stroking the corner of my left eye. “You really are a beautiful girl; It is shameful.” My heart constricted. Memories, that memory tore through my defenses and rose to the surface of
My hunger is an angry living being, scratching and howling beneath every inch of my skin. I lunged for the sumptuous meal like a hungry animal - shoving food and water down as deep in my throat as I could. I don't even know if what I'm stuffing in my mouth is chicken or dried spiced beans. Just knowing where that food could fill the void in my stomach was fine, and I ate until I couldn't eat anymore. Until I'm full. Grease, salt, and food crumbs covered my hands and face while my throat was busy constricting around the last batch of hearty food. When my hunger stopped, I finally saw a plastic fork in the middle of the empty paper plates. In a frenzy, I grabbed it and ran straight to the paneled window, weakly stabbing it into the planks. As the meal continued to find its way down to my stomach, the plastic fork shattered when I tried to pry open the window. Breathing fast and shallow with the food still in my throat, I finally threw the broken pieces of plastic across the room, towar