Little Things (Second Chances 1)

He continues to savor my body, “You are fucking beautiful. And your eyes…like those of an angel. You are going to bring me some good business. And because of that, I will not damage my merchandise by diminishing the value.”

I look at him puzzled, “What are you going to do to me?”

He hushes me, takes a roll of duct tape out of his back pocket, and applies a strip over my mouth. The rising fear and tension escalates as I fathom what he’s about to do to me. He reaches up to my face and cups my cheek in his hand.

Quietly, he responds, “I’m just appreciating what I have while teaching you a lesson.”

He unlocks my arms from the chains, pulls me to sit up, and grabs hold of my hurt shoulder. His fingers grasp tightly and twist my shoulder. I scream under the duct tape as the excruciating pain scorches through my body. My legs fling wildly underneath him.

He yells, “Quiet!” and slaps me hard across the face. He returns to twisting my shoulder and I swear I can feel the muscles tearing. The intense agony shooting from my shoulder heightens at a fast rate to the point of utter torment. He continues to twist and turn my shoulder as I howl underneath him.

His devilish eyes

glare into mine as he hits me in the face again.

“You will not disobey my orders. You will learn.”

He lets go of my shoulder and yanks me off the bed. I immediately fall to the floor and cry out as he drags me toward the door. He bangs hard until one of his men opens it.

“Go get The Artist.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

Artist? Fuck. Derrick shuts the door as his guard heads off to get The Artist. Lying on the cold and hard floor, my body shakes violently as I await the next form of punishment. I try to stay calm and focus on my breathing, but who am I kidding? Tears continue to fall and my shoulder is completely torn. I can’t even move my arm.

Several minutes later, a knock sounds on the door. Derrick peeks out to confirm its owner. He opens the door and a tall, husky man covered in tattoos and piercings, carrying a small kit, enters the room. One of Derrick’s men follows close behind with a restraint chair. Derrick shuts the door behind them.

I gulp as I see The Artist remove his tools from the kit. He takes out a small cast iron tattoo machine, a small flat needle, and several ink containers. Derrick hoists me off the floor and drops me into the restraint chair. He then starts to unbutton my blouse and I squirm, causing the other captor to hold me steady.

After Derrick finishes with the buttons, he slides the blouse off of my body until I’m sitting in only a bra and panties. He places my hands on the arms of the chair facing up and buckles the leather restraints around my ankles, wrists, and neck.

My chest begins to heave up and down as The Artist approaches me with the tattoo gun. He grabs hold of my left wrist and starts working his design. As the gun buzzes and ink bleeds into my wrist, my anger begins to boil. I look at Derrick, and as he stares back, I have the urge to attack him.

Minutes later, The Artist stops applying the tattoo and wipes away the blood from my wrist. He grabs it to take a good look at his work and smiles with pride. I glance down at my wrist and tears immediately pour down my face. On my wrist is a barcode with five numbers: one, fourteen, seven, five, and twelve.

The Artist replaces his tattoo supplies in his kit and returns with a needle, a ring, and a disinfecting wipe. In that moment, Derrick reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, taking it off. In the span of a few seconds, The Artist wipes my left nipple clean, marks a dot, and in a swift motion, slides the needle through, transferring the ring through the nipple to seal it into place. I flinch from the sting of pain but it only lasts for a short moment. The Artist applies the same method to my other nipple, and a few minutes later, packs up his stuff and leaves the room.

Derrick stares at my exposed breasts, completely lost in lust and awe. My body heats with anger, hatred, and disgust. He reaches out to me and I automatically flinch away from him.

Derrick instructs his guard to leave and lock the door. Once the guard leaves, Derrick hastily removes my straps, picks me up out of the chair, and rushes to the bed. I squirm in his grasp and cry out as he chains my arms once again.

He climbs on top of me and murmurs, “I will not have anyone be the first to touch you besides me.” His hands go straight for my underwear and he rips them off in one swift motion. I cry out and try to get free underneath his grip. My panting accelerates as I see him unzip his pants. I yank my arms rapidly to break out of the chains but the attempt is unsuccessful.

As he begins to lower himself onto me, he rips the duct tape off my mouth, “I want you to scream.”

In a split second, I reach up to him and bite his ear, causing him to yelp out in pain. I can taste blood on my lips as his vile eyes stare down at me. He bashes his fist into my face, expelling a burning sensation in my eye. I take the pain and try to relay as much confidence as I can.

He growls at my sense of self-confidence, grabs hold of my waist, and mumbles, “Scream for me.”

At that moment, he slams inside of me and I cry out as scorching pain shoots throughout my body. I can feel my insides stretch apart as he pushes further and further into me. The burning horror intensifies as he begins to quicken his pace. I silently cry as his hands comb along my body and touch me down there. The feel of his thrusts inside of me causes my stomach to churn and I let out a low whimper.

The sound of my sobs and whimpers fuels his lust as he plunges deeper and deeper inside. He grabs hold of my hair and pulls so hard that a few strands break away from my scalp but I refuse to scream.

His growing frustration from my disobedience radiates from him.

I look him square in the eyes and say, “I will never scream for you. You’re a monster.”

He barks, “You are my whore and will do what I say!”