His Desires

Chapter 2: A First Impression

I feel myself sliding down the wall. The material of my shirt can't protect my back as the burning sensation throbs the tender skin. Everything starts to ache again; my back is on fire almost. My arms and legs go limp and I look at the man in a daze. His words are a continuous loop in the back of my mind. A constant fist that punches me in the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. He wants me to scream. He is so sickeningly blunt. It makes me want to vomit all over the clean carpet and on his shiny leather shoes. Even if I do, it might change his prerogative to fuck me and wouldn't that be a blessing on my soul. On the other hand, it might make him go ballistic and kill me without a second thought; I like the second option. Yet, salacious thoughts seep in my head and conjure images of me and the man together - in bed. A shock wave of intimate positions and our sweaty naked bodies hurtle at me. A flicker of sensations travel down my body, leaving an uncomfortable dampness to form between my thighs. I feel perspiration across my forehead, forming at my hairline and dripping down the nape of my neck. It's so hot in here now.

In an attempt to cool myself down, I stand up and walk towards the sink. The faucet explodes with water and I eagerly splash it on my face. I feel the water travel down my neck which cools the heat between my cleavage. Sighing in relief, I place my hands above me to gain composure. My breaths are short and steady. My senses are alert - I know because I can feel him behind me, standing closer than he was before. His warmth is the first thing I feel, than it's his smell. Cinnamon and Jasmine. Such a feminine aroma, but with him, it's perfect. Too perfect. A woman would only erode it.

I exhale loudly to clear the air around me. A worthless attempt for his fragrance suffocates me again. At any moment this guy could pounce on me and carry out his deranged fantasy he admitted to me minutes ago. I can't do anything, I'm chained to a wall for fuck's sake. Although I have plenty of freedom hence my legs are not bound, he looks very heavy; obviously he works out. I don't need Superman vision to tell me has muscle underneath his thick coat. I turn around and glance at the width of his shoulders - they are intimidating, and the plains of his chest are rigid and bluntly obvious. His pectoral muscles are impressive, the fabric of his shirt is taut against them. Dang. Judging from his chest and shoulders I don't need to guess the size of his arms, that's for sure. If there's anything my father ever taught me, it was to never underestimate the ability of an opponent. Being in the police force always left him second guessing, but to overcome the unexpected, you had to determine the possibilities. They were his exact words. And that is exactly what I am doing now. I know the man in front of me is strong. Heck, impressively strong. I know I won't be able to fight him head on, but I might have a 50 percent chance to trap him. Force him to do what I say. He might be big and strong, but I'm flexible and swift. We can counteract each other. Whoever neutralizes the other one first, however, depends on their skill. . . or luck, whichever works best. Judging by his appearance, I don't think luck is in his vocabulary.

Trap him and then what? Shit. That's it. I'm chained to a wall, even if he did have a key he won't unlock the cuffs. How am I going to force him to do anything? I'm vulnerable, I have nothing to play against. Unless . . . I look at the glass pooled at his feet, the crystal winks at me underneath the light; almost telling me to use it. Do I bargain with my freedom for his life? Can i actually kill a man? Of course not! I imagine blood spurting from his neck as I slide the shard of glass across his skin, piercing the carotid arteries. My hands shake compulsively from the thought. I swallow the vomit in my throat; the acid leaves a foul taste in my mouth, making my throat burn.

I can't kill a man, I can't kill anyone. I'm not a murderer and I don't plan on changing that anytime soon. Not in this lifetime anyway. It's because you're weak and pathetic. Everything a woman represents. You are pitiful, a disgrace to your family. You should have been born a boy, or not born at all. A mistake. That is what you are.