Stockholm

Chapter 11: Safe

Trance

That's how it felt like. She was in a trance following blindly as he led her. She should be questioning, not out loud but she should, instead she's watching him move. His muscles rippling with each step and how his feet seemed to be touching the ground but not really touching the ground. As though he were physically above everything and everyone else.

Absentmindedly, she follows until he walks through a door and she stops outside. Sensing she didn't follow he looks back at her and his eyes rake down her for the second time tonight in scrutiny.

She hadn't stepped into the room because she knew -without being told- this was his room and the room in itself seemed to emit its own power and crushing weight. Still watching her, he bends to the table right by him picks up a half filled glass of scotch and drinks from it.

"Come Here"

Is the single order strong enough to put her heart and mind in a different level of frenzy. Trembling, she steps into the room.

Dark curtains matching the dark sheets that screamed wealth -obviously- the glass table by him also black, grey leather couches with white pillows, white walls, white lamp on a grey bedside table, the only pop of colour being the red white and grey carpet which lay at the foot of the couches.

Stopping Infront of him, he sips his drink watching her uncomfortably stare at the ground.

"Do you know why you're here"

She shakes her head, a low 'No' escaping her. Taking a lighter he flicks it on and burns the end of his blunt. After inhaling the toxic yet addictive smoke from the opposite end, he replies her.

"For my entertainment and pleasure. Now, strip"

She looks up at him, eyes wide in dread as she shakes her head in denial.

In the blink of an eye his free hand jutts out and buries itself in her hair. With his grip strong he yanks her hair back and she lets out a pained scream. Tears pooling in her eyes as her hand reaches up to his and tries to pry it away from her but his grip is sturdy.

"There is no fighting this, princess. You won't be going back"

The tears are freely flowing now. She's crying, standing on the tip of her toes trying to lesson his grip as he seems to be pulling her upwards with her neck still tilted back. His eyes darken as he stares down at her, insignificant.

"Every wrong made, gets a punishment. You don't want to be punished do you" He snarls at her and she whimpers shutting her eyes tightly.

She remains a sobbing mess, not answering his question.

"Do you!!" He yells pulling on her hair harder and she screams

"No..."

"Good" he pushes her away and she stumbles falling on her backside. She cries harder as she stands and slowly begins to unbutton her shirt.

Through everything she had forgotten that this was the only piece of clothing she had on and there was nothing more to prolong this situation.

Dropping the shirt to the ground she crosses her hands over her chest trying to cover herself but he had other ideas. Seeing her displayed like a carefully crafted statue the tent in his pants gradually became unbearable

"Get on your knees"

This was a sight, one he loved. The shape of her breasts, big enough to grab and squeeze yet small and firm enough to be held up by her body, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, from where he stood her cunt was visible. Even after more than a week of not really caring for it, it looked clean and hair was barely grown. Just goes to show the amount of care she puts into it on a daily basis.

Covered in bruises, she cried. Stitched up and bandaged, she trembled. The colour of her skin had started to come back except in the damaged areas which would need more time to heal.

Raising his head he spots Frank, walking past the room and stops him.

"Assicurati che nessuno ti interrompa" He orders and with a quick glance to the lady crying, Frank walks away. Making sure to shut the door as he leaves. "Make sure no one interrupts"

She was knelt Infront of him bare and battered like a wounded animal, prey and he the predator, criminal and he the executioner, sacrifice and he... The priest.

Except... There was absolutely nothing good or Holy about what he was going to do to her.

********

Satisfying.

It was satisfying but he wasn't satisfied. She lay on the ground trembling, tears streaking down the side of her face and onto the ground beneath her. She was covered in drool, sweat and his release.

He has never had a cum fetish but right now, looking at her, covered in her drool and his cum, he realized it wasn't so bad to look at. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he runs his hand through his hair and picks up his glass. It touches his lips but nothing pours out and with a huff of annoyance he realizes his bottle is empty.

"Get out" suddenly she wasn't as appealing as she was seconds ago. He needed a drink.

Getting up was a struggle for her. The pain from her previous inflictions had resurfaced coupled with her throbbing scalp from the harshness of his pulling, her cheeks sore and red from how hard she was hit, her knees bruised from the kneeling.

She picks up her shirt on the way out and throws it around herself, not even bothering to bottom up as she slowly trudged to her room. But she stops at the door, because even in here she wasn't safe from the predators that chose her as prey. She throws the door open and just stands there staring into the room.

It was dusk, the sun was still to rise and the night was still to recede completely. The darkness of the night sky was now a navy blue and even though she had been unconscious for a day, she still felt exhausted.

She just needed to rest, just needed to shut her eyes and just hope her dreams welcomed her. She'd accept anything at this point, the dreams didn't have to make sense, she'd welcome even nothingness at this point as long as it came with peace.

Walking into the room she passes by the mirror and stops.
"Oh... I forgot about that. I have to clean up..."

Her bandages were irrelevant to her now, insignificant and pointless. Her bruises might as well be part of her skin because she could see no end to this torture.

After a proper shower, she steps into the bedroom and with eyes drooping she stares at the bed then at the closed door.

It wasn't safe.

She turns to the closet and without much thought climbs into it and shuts it's doors. It was empty at the moment which meant no coverage or comfort but... It was peaceful

It was safe.

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I'm so sorry it's short and I am also so sorry I've been absent.
I don't expect this book to get much recognition but the few of you who do mean everything to my unstable self.

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I've been really busy with work but I'm back now. Already working on the next chapter.
Okay.....

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I feel like this chapter should've been more but I wanted to get it out as fast as possible. So....

This is Soo sad. I feel so sorry for her.

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Smooches Theo...😘