AFTER THE STORM.
-Chapter One-
Disclaimer: We're not own Twilight, Mrs. Meyer is.
Complete Summary: Jasper Whitlock has a horrible past, involving a violent homophobic father and a sadistic boyfriend. The day he decides to stand on his own feet is the worst day of his life. Not knowing if things have a chance of improving, or if Hell is his destiny after all, he decides to end his life. However, a certain Doctor Edward Cullen has made it his aim to show this seventeen year old how to rebirth his soul and live life without ending himself. WARNING: CONTAINS NON-CONSENSUAL SPANKING, SLASH, RAPE. Do not read if it is not your cup of tea. Rated M, just to be safe.
This story has written by two writers. PaalasAthenea. (Me) and my Partner Fandomshit.
Please Enjoy!
Jasper's POV.
I was sitting on my bed, with my knees pressed tightly against my chest and my head burrowed in them, thinking about last night. With HIM. HE is James, my boyfriend, although i wouldn't call him that because that would imply we are equals, and that is not the case. I am 17 years old, a scrawny highschool kid. While he is a 24 year old heavily built community college dropout. I am not sure if he loves me, or if he loves controlling me. He says he truly loves me, but he sure has a different way of expressing it. Like what he did last night, people in love don't do that to each other...right?
Flashback.
I unlocked the door and entered into his apartment, our apartment. It was unusually dark, especially since the sun had yet not set, so i blindly reached for the switch. I don't like the dark, because with the already little control i have over my life, not being able to see takes that way as well. I know i was close to the switch, but never made it because a hand grabbed my wrist and a hoarse voice whispered next to my ear.
"Welcome home, love"
"J-James, what are yo-" I tried to ask him, but he covered my mouth with his free hand, and the rest of my question came out as a muffled sound.
"Shhh… quiet, Jazz. I am going to give you the experience of a lifetime, so you never forget who you belong to, and so you know that no one can love you as much as me."
I gave him a weak smile and nodded. I loved him too, but it was still dark and I was still uncomfortable.
"Just promise me something love", he said, and I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach." You'll stay as still as you can and do exactly as I say. Promise?"
I unconsciously whimpered, because he sounded more animalistic than usual, and with the possessive undertone that was easy to detect, I had a feeling I would regret coming home.
He, however, had no patience for my internal conflicts, and sharply tightened his grip on my wrist, halting my circulation all together.
"Oww", I cried, my survival instinct informing me to please this man instead of aggravating him, "I promise!"
"Alright, now… come here"
He took my hand in his own, gently pried off my school bag and jacket, and went towards the couch. He took off his shoes and I followed suit. By the time we sat on the couch, he was still fully dressed while I was in just my boxers. I wonder how that happened? He pulled me on his lap and started kissing me. Naturally, I kissed my boyfriend back. I backed away with a yelp when he roughly twisted my nipple.
"Jazz baby, don't move a muscle. Just let me do all the work for you". Although his words were sweet, I somehow sensed a thinly veiled threat. I tried my best to stay still. With a mercurial boyfriend such as mine, it is better to do as you're told.
He thrust his tongue into my mouth, and his palms were rubbing the inside of my jean clad thighs. As his kisses, bites and rough nips travelled down my neck, collarbone, and landed on my nipples, my legs instinctively tightened around his back, and my hands found his hair and lightly pulled on it. Bad decision.
He bit my left nipple, right in between his ministrations, so hard I could have sworn he drew blood. He grabbed my hair with both hands, pulled my head back, exposing my neck, and growled next to my ear,
"You're acting like a bad boy Jazz, and bad boys get punished. I'm going to have to tie those hands up this time"
He grabbed a rope from under the couch and tied my hands behind my back, so hard I was afraid they'd fall off. Now that I think about it, why did he have rope under the couch? And the gag, for that matter. Was it all pre-planned in his twisted little mind? Or am I so screwed up that I'm mixing up the details?
I took deep breaths to calm myself down. This was my boyfriend. My loving, caring, sweet boyfriend who wouldn't hurt me. My dominating, controlling, borderline sadistic boyfriend who also just tied my hands up. Crap.
I tried a different strategy. Sympathy.
"James, it really, really hurts." I was only half lying.
"I know, baby. But I also know you are really, really strong. You can take a little pain for me, right?" Why I convinced myself to answer in the following manner, I will never really know. Yup, completely screwed up.
"Y-ye-yes"
"Great," he said, as if he never even stopped to hear my answer, "so there's nothing left to discuss"
A rather large metallic ball entered my mouth with only a little bit of additional pulling and pushing from James' part.
My eyes widened, and now that they were accustomed to the dark, a saw a flash of white teeth. A smile, James' smile. Upon seeing my gagged and tied and partially naked, at his mercy. Really, all the signs were right there, waving as I ran by, too naïve to stop and understand what they were trying to imply. And I'm not even a masochist, so how did I put myself in such a situation, I will probably never know.
My boxers found their way to the floor, and his hands cupped my balls gently. I could have almost forgotten I was tied and gagged. Almost. As he started palming my thighs and the base of my dick, I raised my hips instinctively and ground against him. One of his hands left my body and a second later, a crack in the air and a sting on my raised ass indicated a rather ungraceful leather belt whipping. As if there is a graceful form of whippings.
I was startled, scared and in pain. All at once. Hence, I screamed bloody murder. And an impressively loud, yet muffled-by-metal sound entered both our ears.
"Tsk tsk tsk." James casually reprimanded, as if he is disappointed at a toddler for not washing his hands.
That's probably how he thought of me too.
He raised me too my knees, and started blowing my dick. Sucking, swallowing, licking my slit, and hollowing his cheeks. I was very careful to not move, but apparently not careful enough because his mouth left my dick and his belt found my ass again. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, and embarrassing so, pre-cum down the head of my cock.
He acted as if nothing happened, and had me stand up, and bend over the armrest of the couch.I felt his hands remove the gag, and before I could sigh in relief, I heard him whisper,
"I want to hear you"
And his swollen, huge, painfully massive cock entered me dry in one full, hard thrust.
My voice was an octave higher, and a dry scream.
"STOP!" I yelled.
"Did you lie to me?" he yelled. "You said you could take it for me, and now you will!"
His cock left me, his belt found me, his belt left me, and his cock found me.
"JAMES STOP! PLEASE! SLOW DOWN, NOT SO FAST PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE…"
My words were spoken in between thrusts and whips, and every please was a poor attempt at a yell, and a natural transformation into a pathetic whimper. Pathetic, that is what I am. Truly pathetic.
My fingernails were drawing blood from the palms of both hands, wrists bruised from pulling underneath the rope, face wet from tears, eyes wide with fear and throat dry from screaming. And pleading. And crying.
My yells were echoing on the walls, or maybe in my ears. The details are blurry, almost as if my brain is telling me to stop reliving it over and over again. I really need to start listening to my brain.
He came inside of me after a fair share of thrusting, hair pulling, ass whopping, and cursing. I sighed in relief as he pulled out, and that ticked him off.
"You really think I'm done with you baby? " This was when I decided to reconsider staying with him; when his mask finally came off, even if for a few seconds.
I head a distinct crack in the air, and a sting on my welted and definitely purple ass followed suit. I was done screaming, and was now full on sobbing. This went on for what seemed like an eternity, until he broke skin, and I felt blood trickling down my crack, my thighs and reaching my ankles. Must have been a lot of blood to travel so far so fast. It was.
"Shhhh, my boy, it's over, Jazz. It's over, my love. You did well, no more, no more, honey, it's alright," he soothed. He turned me around and hugged me, I just cried in his chest and hugged him back. He was taller than me, stronger than me, older than me. It was truly a piece of cake for him to dominate me. Abuse, not dominate, abuse, I remind myself.
"C-c-can I get d-dressed?" I whimpered.
"Yes, Jazz. U can." He spat. He immediately caught himself and put his mask back on, tenderly rubbed my ass and went to wash my blood from his hands.
FLASHBACK OVER
And here I am, curled in the fetal position, unceremoniously whimpering and wiping tears I never knew I cried. It hurts to relive what happened, but I needed to process my thoughts. I want to leave him, but I need his support. My dad has practically disowned me, and I have cigarette burns on my back to measure his love for me. I have welts on my ass to measure James' love for me, and a tombstone to measure my mom's love for me. Loving mother it says; I scoff unconsciously. A loving mother wouldn't have shot herself and left me alone with an alcoholic dad. A loving mother would have shot my dad. I can live on the streets, or with James. And no matter how bad he is, the streets are worse. That is one thing I am sure of. I am just a kid. I didn't ask for this life, it is too much for me to handle. The hand holding the knife quivers, but later drops it. Today, I promise myself, I choose not to submit myself to my mother's fate. Today, I choose to survive. Even if it means living with James. Tomorrow, however, is a brand new day.