Page 21 of Captive Ruin

Never mind that he’s filled my thoughts since then, with a mixture of outrage, violation, arousal and want.

He’s left me with a fantasy that I can play back in the privacy of my own head, my own bedroom. Nothing more.

How twisted is that? How fucked am I, that I lie in my bed and replay all that he did to me, until I come hard?

I really need to go and see a therapist.

Yeah, because I can just imagine how that would go.

“What brings you here today, Miss Anderson?”

“Uh… nothing?”

I glance at the time. It’s still early, barely nine o’clock. I need a bath, maybe a book. That jasmine candle.

The hot water helps, but I can’t concentrate on the story I’m reading. I can’t relax. My mind drifts, again, to a terrace at night. Being forced to my knees. Being made to apologize.

That knife, cutting through my clothing.

The fear I felt.

The arousal I denied.

I have to get control of this. I know the impact will fade with time, but I need a solution now, damn it. I can’t keep going like this.

If I don’t get control of it, it’ll control me.

Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe I need to own this. Accept that it’s wrong and twisted, completely fucked up. Or maybe that’s me I’m describing.

Maybe that’s what I need to accept.

I didn’t like it, that’s for sure. But the idea of it? At some level, it appeals.

All right, maybe there were parts I liked. How hard he made me come. The feel of his hands on my body, my breasts, my ass. Touching me like a lover, not a stranger.

Damn him.

I pull myself out of the bath, sloshing water, grabbing a towel from the rack as I walk into my bedroom, leaving wet footprints on the carpet. I dry myself uncaringly, then throw myself down onto my bed.

Spreading my knees. Sliding a hand down my body. Finding myself wet and swollen.

“Let me go, or I’ll scream,” I murmur on a breath, my eyes closing, taking me back to the terrace that I never really left. His shirt lifting up, his abs ridges I want to run my tongue over.

“I’ll… I’ll suck you,” I whisper, as my fingers find my clit, rubbing around it, teasing myself.

The feel of his cock in my mouth. Pushing into my throat. His hand in my hair.

Then bending me over the table.

“Please… spank me…”

I hear his voice like he’s in the room with me.

“You like it when I spank you.”

“If you didn’t like it, why are you more aroused?”

I did like it. I hate that I liked it, but I did.