Grabbing my face, he forcefully squeezed my cheeks to pucker my lips and kissed them hard enough they bruised the next day.
“If you weren’t so fucking hot, I’d have Sue Ellen over here so I could fuck her pussy. I’m really tired of fucking your ass. It’s boring.” His voice suggested he was severely uninterested. I’d wished he would get bored of me. He never did, though. I was his sexy prize.
“So what kind of sex game do you want to play today, baby?”
I didn’t respond.
“How about we play the game, ‘let’s see how long it takes for Lex to scream’. I know you’re a tough woman, baby. That’s why I love the games we play.”
That’s when he slid his knifes cold blade along the right side of my back, where my ribs end. I knew it had nicked my skin, because it burned and I could feel my warm blood washing over my icy bare skin. Like my father, Brian never hurt me in places people could see. It was always on my stomach and back, occasionally the upper thighs and butt, when he didn’t have enough canvas to bruise or batter properly.
“Ummm…” He hummed in his throat, licking my red blood from his blade. I could see his dick, hard in his jeans. I made sure I kept my gaze hooded and never paying attention to any one thing at the same time. If you stare, it provokes the demon within to crawl out and attack more ferociously. They like the game. The more you offer, the more they are able to toy with.
Loudly smacking his lips to draw my attention, he lustfully groaned. “You taste so good, baby.”
I didn’t respond, and I forced the shaking of my cold body to diminish. Every time I’ve been abused and hurt. The men thought they had the upper hand, and if I had screamed and whined or begged. They would have. But I never gave them the satisfaction. I finally grasped that little trick when I was six. That’s the cold hard truth.
After he licked the tang of his blade clean. A longer and shallower precise cut was sliced on my belly curving along my ribs. As the blood started to seep, Brian dropped to his knees in front of me. Reaching up, he ran his dirty index finger over my dripping wound. It burned so bad I sucked in a lung full of air and bit my lip to keep from screaming in agony. I refused to cry. Only babies cry when they’re hurt. That’s what I’ve told myself for years.
“So pretty.” His sadistic voice, danced like a giddy child’s.
Pulling his hard cock free, he masturbated kneeling in front of my bleeding body as he softly and lovingly laved my oozing slash. Soon it became free of blood and he sliced me again, closer to my pelvis this time and savored the rush of my fresh blood surging rapidly out of the deeper cut. Sucking his lips around it, my metallic freshness flowed readily into his inhuman mouth.
Warm air shot out of his nose rapidly, skating across my pale skin; the closer he got to reaching climax. His grunts and moans soon filled the air, bellowing out of his throat, echoing in the steel barn. Just before he came, he stood up and grabbed a fistful of my hair.
“Watch, my beautiful bitch.” He forced my head down to watch as he shot streams of his salty semen all over my clotting wounds. The excruciating pain finally became too much as he smeared his salty come into my cuts, that felt like salt water, and my knees instantly buckled from the intensity. As my eyes rolled back into my head, and I drew blood from biting my bottom lip to keep myself from screaming. Brian grabbed me into his arms right before my shoulders dislocated. Unlatching me from the rafters, he carried me like a rag doll into the house. Brought me into our only bathroom, bathed me with warm water in our small tub, and even scrubbed my hair with strawberry scented shampoo. Muttering over and over how much he loved me and how much I meant to him.
I believed him. I believed Brian loved me. He was my first love. The first person I had ever had sex with. I had no concept of male love. I never have to this day. My father was my abuser and so was Brian. The only two men who have ever meant anything to me have hurt me and broken me in ways most people will never experience.
Okay, enough of this crappy dwelling in my past, I’ve got some work to do.
Chapter Nine
Thursday
Is today over with, yet? I hope it’s soon. I don’t think I can take much more. Thursday’s are by far the worst days of the week.
Last night I worked late, again, only to come home and hear Bob and Roni having sex with her windows open. They were extremely loud and honestly, I felt worse for our neighbors than I did for myself. Apparently, she created enough ruckus to make someone in our neighborhood call the cops. And at eleven o-clock last night, my favorite police officer, Elias Lincoln, greeted me with a knock at the door. He is the kindest and sexiest cop on this planet.