Hunted

Naomi

Chapter 7

My eyes flutter open, but the room around me is cloaked in darkness, so dense it feels almost tangible. The air is cool, heavy with the scent of dampness and something faintly metallic. My head throbs in pain, relentless pulsing making me wince.

My eyes rake in the darkness. I can't see anything, only a smudged outline of walls and an indistinct shape looming nearby. My confusion grows as I try to recall how I ended up here, but the effort only intensifies the ache in my head. The floor beneath me feels uneven, and the occasional drip of water echoes in the silence.

I try to sit up, but fall back as I realize my hands are tied up.

"What the hell? Hello?" My voice trembles, barely breaking through the darkness. I freeze when I feel cold air graze my body... naked body...

My breath catches as hot breath grazes the back of my neck. Before I can react, hands grip me from behind, holding me in place. I thrash, trying to pull away, but the grip tightens like a vice. "Let me go! Help!"

Silence. No response, only the slow, deliberate drag of something warm along my skin—his nose, inhaling me. I start shaking uncontrollably, terror coursing through every part of me. "Please... please... please..." I whimper, the words barely making it past my lips, tears burning in my eyes.

A low chuckle escapes him, and he leans in closer. "You pathetic little thing," he whispers, his voice dripping with condescension. "Always crying. Every single time, like clockwork. It's just so damn intoxicating." His breath fans my ear, making me shudder.  "Weak, useless. That's what you are, and it makes you so... delicious."

My body convulses as his tongue drags up my neck, wet and slow, leaving a slick trail that makes my skin crawl. The sour heat of his breath fills my ear, and bile rises in my throat. I want to pull away, but I'm frozen, trapped in this sickening moment.

"I never knew you fantasized about my brother like this..." His voice is thick with mockery, sending a shiver through my spine. My breath stutters, trapped in my chest, as his words dig in, vile and twisted.

"You love it," he whispers, his teeth grazing my skin. "Being a dumb, filthy animal."

"Stop it, please," I gasp, my voice barely breaking through the panic.

His hands slither up my body, fingers pressing into my breasts like they're claiming it. His grip tightens, squeezing, twisting—pinching my nipples— too rough. My skin crawls as his nails scrape over me.

My cries choke in my throat, blending into his sick laughter. "What else did you say he did? Hmm..." His voice slithers over me, twisted and vile.

Suddenly, he shoves me hard, and my face smashes against the cold, filthy floor. The taste of dust and metal floods my mouth. Pain blooms, but before I can even flinch, he yanks my hips up like I'm nothing more than a rag doll. There's a click—that sharp, mechanical sound that makes my stomach turn—and then a flash, like lightning against the darkness.

His breath hitches, a disgusting groan that curdles the air. "God... he's missing out on so much." His words are thick, dripping with perverse delight, savoring the control, the humiliation.

"Stop. Please, let me go..." My voice shakes, but it's barely a whisper.

"Touch yourself." His voice cuts through the room, low and commanding.

I freeze, my body instinctively recoiling.

"That's what the list says." His tone is calm, almost thoughtful, like he's discussing the weather. "We need to check that one off. Go on, stick those fingers inside."