Something reflects in his eyes and back at me. He looks sorry, but that can’t be right. He wanted this, wanted me in pain. He wanted to punish me, and he liked it, and part of me liked it too.
Before I can grasp onto the look, his face goes blank again, and he does just as I ask. He lifts me up and deposits me on the bed.
I let myself fall back onto the mattress and curl into a ball. Crawling onto the bed, he takes me into his arms even as I flinch at his touch. His chest is bare now. He kisses my damp forehead and soothes me, holding me tight, and that only makes me hate him a little bit more.
His masculine scent overpowers me, calming me. How can he do this? Hurt me one second, and soothe me another?
“Shhh, you’re okay.”
“I’m not,” I blubber into his bare chest, the warmth of his skin radiating through me. I feel like an iceberg, slowly melting into the abyss.
“I didn’t hurt you. I punished you, and I know that you enjoyed it as well.” He reminds me again of my treacherous body’s reaction to him. His thick fingers run through my hair, making my scalp tingle.
“I hate you,” I whisper.
“Sometimes, I hate myself too. You’ll be okay.”
He holds me for a while longer, whispering sweet nothings into my hair, and I let him. Let him soothe me, hold me, even after what he did. He doesn’t let go of me until the last sob has wracked my body.
Setting me back down on the mattress, he climbs off the bed and digs back into the drawer, setting a second pair of handcuffs down next to me. I don’t speak or even look at him as he rolls me onto my belly, uncuffs one hand, rolls me back onto my back and brings my arms up above my head, fastening one end of the cuff to the headboard, then repeating the action with the other cuff, and attaching it to my free wrist.
I sag against the pillows as best as I can, my wrists already ache from the position, and my ass cheeks burn against the sheets, but I refuse to let him know that.
We’re enemies now, and he doesn’t deserve to know how I’m feeling anymore. All he deserves is my hate and anger, which is all he’ll get from me.
Ignoring me completely, he walks into the closet and comes out fully dressed a short time later. I pretend to be asleep and hold in the tears that threaten to fall until I hear the door close behind him. Then, I close my eyes, letting the tears fall, wishing things could be different.
24
Julian
She betrayed me. I should have seen it coming, but I was so occupied with my revenge that I missed it.
Looking back on the last few days, I wonder how much of it was an act and how much was real? Did she really want me to fuck her, did she really like spending time with me? Did she ever trust me, even one single bit? I don’t know, and the truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever know now.
Walking into the kitchen, I find Marie and our new cook, Celeste, chatting about some kind of new café in town.
“They just have the best pastries and lattes, I don’t know what they put in them, but we have to figure it out,” Marie chirps.
Celeste–who is about the same age as Marie–claps her hand in front of her in excitement. “I wonder how late they’re open, maybe we can go after work?”
“Is breakfast ready?” Both of them jump at the sound of my voice, making me realize how harsh I must sound.
“Yes, I was just about to bring it up,” Marie explains, clearly flustered by my presence. She quickly fills the glass on the tray with apple juice, her hand shaking so much that she is spilling half of it in the process.
“I’ll take it.” Walking further into the kitchen, I grab the food, not missing how Marie flinches at my movement. Good, she should be afraid.
On my way back to the bedroom, my anger about Elena’s betrayal only expands. She lied to me, kept secrets from me, and then tried to get away and run back to the enemy. And here I am, still wondering if she would like a fucking pastry from the new café.
This woman messed with my head, got under my skin, and it’s time that I turn the tables on her.
Holding the tray in one hand, I unlock the door with the other, then push the door open with my shoulder. Elena looks just as pitiful now as when I left her a few hours ago. I didn’t want to leave, wanted to stay, and hold her in my arms, but that would’ve been counterproductive.
I needed her to stew in her emotions, let her anger simmer a little, and give myself a chance to cool off because I really, really wanted to fuck her and knew if I didn’t leave, I would’ve done just that.
Briefly, she glances up at me before turning her head away.
I sit down on the side of the bed and set the tray down between us. Breaking off a piece of blueberry waffle, I hold it out in front of her face.
“Time to eat.”
“Untie me then,” she says while still looking away.
“No, I’m feeding you.”
“I’m not hungry, then.”
“I’m not untying you any time soon. You will let me feed you, or you will not eat at all.” I swear she is pushing every one of my buttons just to see if I’ll snap again.
She shakes her head but still doesn’t look at me directly. “You are sick, you know that, right? That there is something seriously wrong with you?”
“There is something wrong with all of us. Now, are you going to eat, or do you need some more time to calm down?”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
Sighing, I shake my head and get out the key to uncuff her.
When her hands are free, she rubs at her red wrists and scurries off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom. She slams the door shut behind her like an angry teenager, and I can’t help but smile at the notion.
She returns a few minutes later, and I have to look away because she’s naked, and it’s doing shit to my head again. I’ve reached my limit today, and all we’re doing now is toeing the line. If I snap again, I’ll take her like an animal.
“Can I at least put some clothes on?”
“Suit yourself,” I motion to the closet.
“I would choose something comfortable if I was you. You’ll be tied up to the bed for a while,” I call after her.
“Of course, I will,” she mocks under her breath while stomping through the room.
She returns dressed in a pair of yoga pants and an oversized shirt that falls off one shoulder. I can still see her pebbled nipples pressing against the fabric, but at least her pussy is covered now.
“Ready to eat?” I ask, cuffing her back to the bed.
Now that I’m closer, I can see that her eyes are red, the skin around them puffy, letting me know she hasn’t stopped crying. I try to ignore the emotion that rises up in me, seeing her like that. She betrayed me, so why is she crying? Because she got caught?
I know what I did shocked her because it shocked me too, but I didn’t hurt her. I didn’t take more than she could give me, and she never asked me to stop. She was afraid, hesitant, but even as angry as she was, she still wanted it, wanted me to take it from her. The reality of that tells me some part of her trusts me, and I hold onto that fact with both hands.
“I can feed myself,” she hisses like a kitten.
“I know you can, but you won’t. I told you, I’m feeding you, or you’ll get no food at all.”