Capture (continued)
part 1 is available on my page;)
Later I lay in a damp puddle of tears, blood, and semen, holding my bruised pelvis and trying to think of anything other than the suffocating fog of pain around me. I imagine his body flat against mine, a violent collision of two planets stuck in a time loop. All of me feels desecrated, unclean. A crime scene.
Out of nothing other than pure rage and spite, I slip a single digit inside myself, feeling the loose hole, massaging slowly up to my clit. Touching, gently, almost playful, unlike his violent pinching, impaling, andβOuch!
I hadn't noticed I'd been fingering myself harder, and accidentally pushed against the back of my vagina.
My hole begins to drip in shameful anticipation. I've had a humiliation kink for as long as I can remember, so long I can't distinguish from lust and bodily response. Unwanted thoughts of him inside me bubble up...
Him.
The worst of it is that he's right. In the moment, hurt, neglected, exploited, I feel overwhelming misery. But I want the closeness of his touch, inside my deepest, most vulnerable parts.
If nothing else, I'm good at being used.
This, right here, this primal pleasure is the only thing that keeps me going.
By the time I'm done with my dinner of stale bread and mac and cheese, I need to piss so bad I don't even care about my dignity. I hadn't had any since I came here, so what the hell? I squat over the bucket in the corner, grimacing as I try to aim the stream in the bucket.
"You tempt me."
A voice startles me from behind. Oh, no.
"I...you can't. Not right now." I'm still peeing, unable to stop my bodily functions. Give me a fucking break, man.
"Who are you to tell me how to use my toy?" He slaps my ass and I squeal loudly. Like a pig. I admit miserably to myself.