The Pacifist [COMPLETED]

Disobedience & the Art of Suffering

Rachel

Every emotion on the spectrum raced through Rachel. The pall of her painting still hung over her, but the promise of Joseph Maxwell had her drunk with anticipation. She hated his stoicism. There was no obvious reaction to her disobedience outside of hurting her hand and cutting off her clothes, but she wondered if that should worry her. Rachel decided, however, that if he wouldn't give her what she wanted... his wrath, then she wouldn't give him what he wanted... her fear.

She moved to the bedroom like he had told her too, and found a new addition to the bed. Restraining straps poked out from beneath the frame and padded cuffs sat on the night stand. Mr. Maxwell put the knife down and picked up a cuff. Rachel didn't wait for the command and held out a hand. Part of her wanted to struggle to not make it so easy for him, but before she could decide, both her wrists were adorned with cuffs and had been clipped together. He pushed her to lay down on the bed and raised her hands above her head to attach the cuffs to the waiting strap, which he tightened.

Wordlessly, Joseph moved to cuff her ankles. Rachel decided she would fight. Maybe it was a little late but she would try, just to get back at him for the paint night. She kicked at his hand, knocking the cuff out of it. No reaction. He still stayed silent as he went to pick up the cuff. Rachel went to kick again as he approached her but he was ready this time, and caught and pinned her ankle against the bed. Rachel used all her strength to pull from his grasp but he held her in place as if her efforts inspired none from him. His display of obvious strength finally had the reptile part of her brain on alert. She stood no chance against him. Her struggle was futile as he finished cuffing her ankles and restrained them with two other straps from beneath the bed. They had been pulled so that her legs were forced open, exposing everything to him.

Joseph finally looked at her again and this time, there was no hope to hide her fear. She watched him drink it in and the more he devoured the wilder his eyes got, which only made her more afraid. They fed into each other, without him even laying a hand on her, until both their eyes were glazed over with primal need. Rachel whimpered and squirmed as she felt her wetness trickle down between her butt cheeks, the feeling uncomfortable.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice gruff.

Rachel's eyes were wide, so wide they felt strained and her breath came out in small quick spurts. "You, inside of me. Please," she added, hoping to appeal to him because she had pushed buttons after all. His smile was cruel and he positioned himself with his face between her legs. Rachel wasn't ready for how torturous the light flick of his tongue against her clit felt. There was not enough contact, and the soft tickle of touch just made her need for him grow exponentially.

"Please," she panted. He pressed his tongue against her a little harder, but it still wasn't enough. She moaned with frustration which was cut short by a yelp when he suddenly bit her inner thigh. He clamped down and she tried to pull away but he held on, biting so hard she was positive he would break skin. She imagined her blood on his chin and was disturbed that the image only got her more excited. He let her go and bit the other thigh while simultaneously grabbing the flesh he had just released from his teeth. The pain was blinding and the insides of her thighs burned like hell. She panted heavily, not wanting to scream too loudly. Part of her wanted to beg for reprieve but she didn't want it to end, so she bit her own tongue to keep quiet and to quell any notion of calling any safe words.

When Mr. Maxwell raised his head to look at her, his eyes were more feral than ever as they glistened. He seemed drunk and lost in the moment. Rachel fell over the edge with him, giving in and shutting her brain completely off. A loud buzz filled her ears as he littered her skin with bite marks, the pain from one bleeding into the other until she could no longer make out where each individual bite had been laid.