Flower in the Dark

I clamp my eyes tightly shut, a tear squeezing out as my pussy clenches around his fingers. I can hear how wet I am, I can feel the pressure building and mounting higher as I get closer to the edge.

I open my eyes to look up at his face, wanting to see his expression. The smirk on his face as he plays my body sends a surge of anger through me. When he pulls out one of his fingers and teases it against the tight ring of my ass, I gasp.

I start to come, my muscles contracting around his fingers, and he forces it in mid-orgasm. I nearly go blind from the pleasure, and he continues to work my asshole and pussy as I slowly come back down. I lie there, slack in my bonds, shaking with aftershocks, spent and panting, while he still straddles me, looking at me like the cat that got the fucking cream.

He looks at me for a long moment, before removing his hand from my mouth and cutting the ties from me. I go completely limp, my muscles turning to jelly, and I struggle to form a coherent thought, or at least find the energy to tell him to fuck off and let me go.

All I can manage right now is a weak and breathless, “Why?”

He snorts, “Because you are mine, and I will have you every way I can before our time is up.”

He gets a distant and stony look in his eyes, and he clenches his jaw tightly. I put my hand on his wrist, “You don’t have to do this.”

His eyes meet mine again, and he leans down over me, his dark hair falling over even darker eyes, pressing a soft kiss against my lips before biting on the bottom one until I gasp out in pain.

He lets go, not lifting his face from mine and murmuring against my lips, “I want to do this, Violet. I want to paint your skin the color of your namesake, I want to fill you up and cover you with my cum. But don’t worry Violet, you will enjoy it, I promise.”

13

Violet

After that he gets up abruptly, grabs his jeans, shoving the knife back into his pocket, and leaves before I even have time to process what the fuck just happened. I hear the click of the lock about half a second after he closes the door, and I’m left half-sitting on the bed, practically naked, with his dried release on my chest, and my own soaking my panties.

I'm so confused, so conflicted, I don't know what to make of all this. Him slipping in here like that while I was sleeping and violating me the way he did, and then the orgasm he just gave me. A small smile starts to take shape, I remember the feeling of the release he gave me before I squash it down. It shouldn't have happened.

I might never have come like that before, but it doesn’t mean anything at all. I was just caught unaware and got sucked up into the moment. It was a one off. I try to convince myself of this, but don’t really feel it. I’m too shocked about the whole thing to be able to convince myself of much right now.

I spot my blanket on the floor and bend down to grab it, noticing body wash, shampoo, and a pile of lacy things lying next to it. I pick one of the lacy things up and drop it like it’s hot, recognizing it instantly as one of mine. I shiver like I’ve just been doused with a bucket of icy water.

He was in my house.

“Oh God, when was he in my house?” I scream out in despair, hoping he’ll hear me, “What are you doing to me?!”

I rush to the bathroom, hoping that the shower works, wanting to get him off of my skin, and to wash the evidence of my own betrayal from between my legs. I cry out when the pipes groan and clunk, but nothing comes out. I pull my ruined top from my body and fill the sink with water, annoyed that it doesn't seem to heat properly, probably from lack of use. I dip the top in the water, soaking it through before scrubbing at my skin.

“Off, get off. Please, get off.” I mumble, as I wash the residue and evidence of our releases from my body, and feeling b

etter the cleaner I get.

Shame makes me blush when I get to my pussy, as I gently clean the sore folds and my now tender asshole with the scraps of my cami. When I'm finally clean, I feel hollow and empty. I notice food and water on the table with the candle, and my stomach turns. Ignoring the food, I quickly gulp down the water, wanting to erase the taste of him from my mouth, no matter how faint it is.

I hurriedly blow out the candle, before diving back onto the bed, which is now thrown into darkness, and covering my naked form with the blanket, shivering and crying anew. I weep until the tears run out, and fatigue from the crying and having such a powerful orgasm start to overtake me. I fade into sleep with his face in my mind, those dark eyes that seem to be staring right into my soul, and that damn smirk lifting the corners of his mouth.

14

Him

I’m back to watching the cameras again, slipping in food and drink into the room while she sleeps. Fruit, sandwiches, and all things I know she likes that will keep.

I fucked up with her, that wasn’t meant to happen. I was never meant to get attached, but somewhere along the way, during our time in the chat room, in those six months I got involved. The little bitch sucked me in with all her innocence, naivety and just… her.

I wouldn't say I was all that communicative, I barely responded to her with anything more than vague sentences containing the appropriate answer. I listened though, she opened herself right up to me, telling me her likes and dislikes, to begin with, and then slowly going deeper into her personal life. I reveled in it. I wanted to know it all so that I could use it to my advantage, and I did. She is here, within my reach, within my home, and she will not be leaving.

I’m so conflicted about this, though, and I don’t know what to do about it. This can’t happen, not just with her, but with anybody. I should have just done it that first night, but after last night, I’m not sure I can. When I left the room after making her come all over my hand, I couldn't resist finding out what she tasted like. She tasted fucking fantastic, like a woman and something totally Violet.

I’m finding it difficult to distance and detach myself mentally from her. Her presence here will be my undoing, but I don’t currently have the will to fix the problem. The only viable solution would be to remove her from the equation completely, but I don’t want to do it, I want her too much.

It was so easy before her, to prune the dead flowers and turn the remains to ash. My garden is full of blooms that once were beautiful and bright, and then quickly became wilted, heavy and broken. I have no use for them, so I dispose of them. My Violet will never be among them, I will cherish her, care for her, and ensure she blooms the way she deserves.