Not His Doll

Chapter 6

|Strip|

She felt weightless in his arms. Despite the anger Brahms threatened her with, here he was; carrying her ever so gently. Her head laying against his chest not because she had a choice, but because he demanded it.
His shirt reeked of rusted iron. The scent was sickenly sweet and pungent from the blood of those which he murdered.

While she played damsel in destress, her eyes really searched for the front door. The house was large but she already recognized the rooms she had been in before.
They passed through a hallway which led upstairs. It was one of two entries, the other being the one she initially came through.

Her search was cut short as Brahms entered the bathroom, placing her on top of the countersink. It was rather large for a bathroom, but that was expected in a house like this.

A sickly-looking woman caught her gaze.

Her eyes were sunken, emphasizing the dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked disoriented with her eyebrows knitted together, staring back at her with no recollection.
The woman shed but a single tear.

When Y/n felt the dampness upon her own cheek did she realize the woman was herself. She could only gaze at her own reflection, feeling dejected and lost.

But it had only been a night. No.. had it been two?

Her once compassionate eyes were replaced by those of a crazed woman's; someone of which she did not recognize.

The sound of the faucet running caught her attention. She wiped away her tear, stifling a sob.

He meant it after all.
If this motherfucker even tries to bathe me..

She peeked at the hallway seen from between the door. His faith she wouldn't jump off the counter and run escape was surprising. Although Y/n herself wasn't sure she if she even had the nerve.
Brahms was faster, stronger, and although it was arguable; he might be smarter. His confidence that she would stay put spoke wonders,
but it also pissed her off.

Now isn't the right time to try escaping anyway. I could risk tearing my stitches, and I'm sure this asshole doesn't believe in second chances.

Glancing at her kidnapper she was panicked to find him looking back at her. Brahms clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Her heart raced as he approached her. His steps were gradual and painful.
Naturally she averted her eyes, cursing at herself for being so obvious.

"Strip." He demanded.

"No." She replied sternly, forcing her gaze upon him.

Amusement flickered in his eyes.
"Very well."

Brahms trailed his cold touch up her waist and to her back. He rested his calloused hand over the bra clasp, fingering for its release.
She froze, closing her eyes in anguish; as it unclasped and fell from her chest. Her hands clenched in frustration, nails embedding into her palms.

"If you do as I say, I will allow you to keep your underwear. Defy me, however.."

He leaned close, his mask inches from her lips.
"Well, you will just have to find out." He whispered huskily.

Brahms then unclasped his suspenders, dropping them to his side before pulling his shirt off.

'?!'

"What do you think you're-" She whimpered, voice trembling; unable to finish her sentence.

His body was that of a brute man's. He was burly with the build of an ox, chest hair stuck to his skin from the combination of dirt and sweat. Scars decorated his skin, but the most eye-catching was the jagged scar on his lower abdomen.
His hair sprung messily over his mask as he unbuttoned his pants, continuing to strip naked.

Y/n averted her eyes in shame. She could see his naked figure in her prepheral version but did everything to ignore him.
He placed his hand around her wrist gently pulling her from off the counter.
She obeyed.

The two stood above the bathtub. It emitted steam as the warm water trickled from the shower head.
Placing a hand on her back he lightly pushed her forward.

Fuck me.

Y/n stepped inside, releasing a moan as the heat poured against her sore muscles. Her pain subsided as if the water had rinsed away her injuries for just a moment.
Instinctively she cupped the water with her hands, rinsing her dirtied face.

Brahms climbed in soon after her, standing behind her. She paid no attention to him, and instead focused her attention on ridding the blood from her skin.

His hands traveled up and down her body, grabbing at her hips and waist.
She ignored it.

"Turn around."

She did as she was told, hesitantly.

He looked her up and down, his eyes darkening at the sight of her. His fingers grazed her breasts as he swiped his thumb over her areola.

Stop.

With one hand he cupped her breast, fondling her bud gently. His free hand sat upon her hip locking her in place.
Brahms cocked his head staring deep into her eyes. He pinched the flesh harshly examining her expressions as she stifled her moans.

STOP.

That's when it happened. He crashed his porcelain lips onto her own, holding her chin in place. The mask smashed into the bridge of her nose as blood began to gush similar to a waterfall.
Y/n bashed her fists against his chest in protest but he only deepend the kiss.
It lasted for consecutive minutes before he pulled away briefly; placing a grisly hand over her eyes, blinding her.

Removing his mask, he pushed her body against his own until she was pressed against the tile wall.

"Get off!-"

Brahms' rough lips colided with her own, tasting the metallic blood that glazed her. His tongue fought past her teeth to the moist space within.

The bristles of his beard scratched against her soft cheeks as she worked her mouth against his.

~