"You want me to fuck you in front of him?" Parker hisses in my ear. "Want your boy toy to watch how a real man fucks you, little bird?"
I shake my head, opening my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. Parker fondles me, my hair, my tits, the embarrassingly wet spot between my legs. He touches me gently. Caresses me like he cares, like he's not trying to hurt me at all. But I know him. I know the monster hiding behind his handsome face. He gets off on it – the darkness, the pain. And now, he's more determined than ever to hurt me.
His fingers plunge into my wetness and he fucks me hard while more soundless screams escape my lips. I hate him as my body vibrates from his roughness. I hate him as he spits and snarls with every thrust, but it feels so fucking good. And when I moan, the sound finally comes while Raphael watches helplessly from the ground.
"I'm sorry," I mouth at him. "I'm sorry, but I want him... I want Parker, I don't want you. I'm so sorry..."
"Keep apologizing," Parker mutters in my ear. "Keep telling him it's me you want... It's me you choose... I'm the one you're going to end up with, little bird... We all fucking know it. You're mine. My property. My little bird."
"No!" I cry out.
"Yes!" he snarls back. "My property... my girl... my. Fucking. Girl."
I start crying but he pays it no mind, continuing his vicious assault on my barely resisting body, stretching me, hurting me.
I hate him.
I want him.
I love him...
***
I wake up with a start. Fuck.
My head is heavy. My mind feels thick like a fog has descended upon every thought, and my mouth is dry as hell. I rub my eyes, thanking my lucky stars the mirage and everything that followed was all just a dream. But there's something else... something that hurts.
Getting up from the bed, I wince when I feel a strange weight between my legs. My hand shoots between my thighs. My pussy is soaked, and I flush in embarrassment as I realize just how much my dirty dream turned me on. But there's something else. Something cold and hard. And it's not in my pussy. It's wedged tightly in my ass.
I keep feeling around, running to the mirror on the wall and bending over. And there it is – a silver metal thing, with a pink crystal heart. It's a plug, and it's lodged deep inside me.
My hand flies up to cover my mouth that has opened in shock. What the fuck? I don't own a butt plug, so what the hell is that thing doing inside me?
I tug on it to get it out and a sensation I've never felt before makes my knees weak. Fuck. How am I going to get this thing out? And, more importantly... am I going to come pulling it out of my body?
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth as I lie back on the bed, raising one leg up to my chest. My fingers wrap around the base of the plug and I start tugging on it in an effort to get it out.
It feels good. So fucking good, my teeth draw blood from my lip as I keep going. Except now I'm not pulling it out. No, I'm playing with it, twisting it, pushing it in and out as I bring myself closer and closer to an unwilling orgasm. I can't explain the toy stuck inside me, and worry twists my insides into a thousand knots. Finally, I pull the plug out with a soft scream as it pops out of me. I can feel how much it stretched me. Another few minutes and I would've come from it.
I toss it aside, unable to even look at the stupid thing as I rush to the bathroom.
My cheeks are burning up as I begin scrubbing myself. It feels as if I'm washing years of dirty secrets down the drain, and I scrub until my body is burning and red.
Wrapping myself up in a thick towel, I go back to the bedroom, my eyes instantly going to the corner where I tossed that metal plug.
It's not there.
My towel falls to the ground as I raise my hands to my mouth. How can it not be there? Didn't I just toss it aside? Didn't I just have it in me?
With a start, I remember the handbag, the thief. Now the plug. Am I going crazy? What's happening to me? Why can't I remember the simplest of things?
I push all the worries to the back of my mind. I can't think about any of it right now. Instead, I focus on one person who always manages to calm my racing mind.
Sam.
I was so worried when I didn't find him in his usual spot last night, and I cross my fingers as I load up some food for him in a brown paper bag and head to his alley.