Betrayed by Truths (Truth or Lies 2)

“Two,” he says, striking harder.

I cry out, my tears falling now. My ass is far too sensitive for another. I consider pleading for him to stop, but I don’t. I’ve never felt so alive.

“Three,” I brace myself, but it’s not enough. This one holds all his rage. All the pain he’s feeling inside he takes out in one stroke.

“Fuck,” I cry. My tears are full on streams now, my ass burning, my body convulsing.

“It’s over, baby.”

“Don’t, baby me,” I cry, pulling my body off his lap. I hate him, but I also want him. I’ve never been so wet before. I want his cock even though I know it will hurt worse than his slaps. But I am also already tired of feeling—anything, pleasure or pain.

He watches me carefully as he pulls the T-shirt from his head. Then lowers his jeans and kicks

them off until he’s naked.

“On the bed,” he commands.

“No.”

I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t want him to fuck me on the bed where he’s comfortable. If he takes me, he takes me on the floor.

“It wasn’t a question. It was a command.”

“No.”

“Would you rather take the whipping?”

I feel the redness of my ass. I would need to shut down completely to take a whipping. And Enzo wouldn’t let me. It would last days, neither of us relenting until I felt everything.

“On. The. Bed. Kai.”

I reluctantly lay down on the bed as he walks toward me. But then I remember my own plan for revenge. It’s better this way. And as much as he’s hurt me so far, I also feel free. I know he’s holding back. If he truly wanted to hurt me, he would. His hits were nothing like Jarod’s. Enzo’s hits were that of a man in pain expressing his emotion to me in the only way he knows how, because words aren’t enough to feel his pain.

And I feel pain too. Pain of what I’ve been through for six years because of this man. Pain at knowing men died because of me. Pain at not being free.

But that ends now. When Enzo’s cock enters me, I will give him all of my pain. I will be free. My pain will be his burden to bear.

He takes a rope and a condom out of his nightstand. He tosses the condom aside and then takes the rope.

My eyes widen. I don’t want to be tied down. I won’t be able to stop him if I can’t handle this. I won’t be able to feel his body as he enters me. I’ve noticed I do better when I initiate the touch first. He’s noticed that and is taking it away from me.

“Wrists,” Enzo says, waiting patiently by the head of the bed.

I close my eyes, letting the fear overtake me.

“Wrists, baby.”

Why is it when he says ‘baby’ it both calms me and petrifies me at the same time? He wants to hurt me, but he also wants to please me. He can’t have it both ways. He can’t be the monster and the lover. He has to choose.

And I already know which he will choose. Monster. No lover would tie me up knowing my history.

I raise my hands over my head, and he ties them together and then to the bed frame.

I pull, but there is no way I’ll ever get free.

Then, he takes a blindfold from the dresser and covers my eyes.

Shit.