Fixation
Chapter 8
Taken
Linda slept peacefully lying close to Aaron. She was on her front, one arm draped across his battered chest. Raw agony pulsated through his body, and he used her time asleep to try to recover from the abuse he had suffered under her hands.
Her former captive she had kept until he died, and he expected that he would die at her hands if help didn't come soon.
He tried to take stock of his injuries but the screaming pain from his groin obscured all else. He knew he was bleeding from his legs and chest, but he couldn't feel that. He was afraid to think what she had done to his genitals, the pain was so great, they couldn't hurt more if she had torn them off. He flexed the muscles in his thighs, and felt the stickiness of blood there. He didn't dare move more than that for fear he might awaken her, and set off her insane rage again.
He wondered about sleeping. He doubted he would be able to sleep though. His mind was full of thoughts of escape, and trying to think of a way to make her untie him. She was dreaming, and her hand twitched on his chest, her nails digging into the wound she had recently put there. He gritted his teeth as she seemed to enjoy inflicting pain on him even in her sleep. He felt blood well up around her probing fingers, and his head started to spin as he tried to ignore what she was doing to no avail.
Her hand relaxed as another aspect of her dream took over, and he moved slightly so that the hand was not over the wound.
He heard a moan from her as she dreamed, and her hand slowly covered the distance between the wound and his groin where she cupped him gently and began to massage him. He knew then that he was bleeding from somewhere because her hand felt sticky on him, and he threw back his head in an effort not to respond to her.
He thought about his little boy and tried to concentrate on him. He knew the treachery of the body and couldn't allow himself to respond to her. He knew she would rape him if she could, and that was not an option.
He was on a beach with Haley and Jack. He had built a sand castle for Jack and watched with pleasure as he took delight in tearing it down. He felt Jack in his arms as he carried him exhausted back to the car at the end of the day, he smelled his salty hair and kissed his sun warmed skin. Then he was snatched back to now as her nails dug in the soft sensitive skin, and formed little crescent shaped cuts, dark against the pale skin.
He sucked in his bottom lip and bit down. He blinked hard, stopping the tears of pain from rolling down his cheeks. He couldn't allow himself to cry. Self control was all he had left to fight with.
-0-0-0-
I think I nodded off for a short while, and the pleasure of waking up lying so close to LoverMan overwhelmed me. His beauty and warmth seeped through me and spread to every fibre of my body. My hand was on the gash across his chest when I woke, but gently I move my fingers down to the tops of his legs, softly touching him as a lover would, stroking him, waiting for his response.
There is none. He rejects me even now. Pressing my fingertips into his skin, I feel the skin burst under my pressure, and his blood runs onto my fingers.
Lifting myself onto my elbow, I put my face onto his chest and kiss him, biting gently at his nipples and sucking at the surrounding skin, hard and muscled. He groans softly, I hope with pleasure, and it makes me sigh with an ecstatic wave of desire. I reach up to his face and kiss his soft neck, and outline his jaw with my tongue. I want him so bad, so bad I could kill him ..........
I lift one leg and kneel astride him, my hands gripping his arms, feeling the tense musculature of his biceps. I bend my legs under his, and press down on him ........... I collapse against his neck and bite hard and the pleasure sends tingling sensations all over my body and I hear a cry of perfect satisfaction ....... I realise it's me. My body shudders and I have taken him, he is mine now, and he can't ever leave me except into the claws of death .....
-0-0-0-
He lay rigid and unresponsive as she leaned down and sucked at his chest. He groaned in pain as the wounds on his chest moved under her pressure. He felt rather than heard her sigh, and Aaron tried not to cringe as she knelt across him, but she was so in the throes of passion, she wouldn't have noticed. As she twisted her legs under his thighs, he tried to remain flat on the bed, but her legs were strong, and she pulled his knees up off the bed a few inches.
She bit hard his neck, and a tremor of pain shook his tortured body, which she took for pleasure, and she responded in kind, and he cringed under her as she pressed down hard onto him, and cried out in her desire. She suddenly weakened and collapsed onto him, shaking and clutching his arms with her rough hands, her face pressed against his bruised neck, breathing deeply and ecstatically.
'You are mine now.' she said. 'Only death can take you from me now.' she said.
She had taken him even without his body responding to her. She had raped him, and he suddenly felt sick. His stomach twisted under the assault of emotions – hate and self loathing that he had allowed this insane creature to take from him the one thing he held as sacred. This time he could not stop the tears, He wanted her heavy body off him, away from him, he wanted her to take her foul wetness and go, but she was nuzzling his neck and licking his jaw, and then she was there, kissing him with all the passion she was embraced in, whispering her love for him, and promising him she would never leave him.
He pulled away from her kiss and turned his head to the side, and vomited violently onto the bed. His stomach heaved and twisted as his body rejected what had just been done to him, as he fought against the feeling of the abuse, but the feeling played over again as she knelt back and looked down on him.
He was dry vomiting now, there being nothing left for his stomach to reject, but still he heaved in response to her.
When it was over he lay still, panting for breath and his breaths coming in harsh miserable sobs. She realised what he was doing and she raised her fist to him. She brought it down where seconds before she had been kissing him, splitting his lips against his teeth, and filling his mouth with thick blood. He spat into the pool of stomach juices that had collected on the bed under his face, and he turned his head slowly so that he was looking into her eyes.
'You can rape me, you can beat me. I can't stop you. But you will never be able to make me love you. I despise you, and that is all.' His voice was thick and hoarse. Blood was on his lips.
She raised herself off him, and punched his face with all her strength. She caught his cheek below his left eye and his neck cracked as his head was thrown back. He closed his eyes against the tears of shock and pain that threatened, and he looked away from her.
-0-0-0-
He has hurt me beyond measure; I cannot believe what he has just said to me. He has said that he despises me, after everything I have done for him, and he won't return my love.
No matter, I can take him as and when I wish. Only his words can cut like a knife, but I won't let him win against me. He is mine now, until he dies.
I am lying next to him, face down on the bed, my left arm draped over his chest. He feels warm and muscular against my skin, and it excites me again. Turning on my side, I slide my other arm beneath him, and draw him to me. I feel him shudder as my long fingernails catch the wounds I inflicted on his back, but my courageous man does not cry out or fight me. No he just lays still and waits for me.
'I love you.' I whisper, and I kiss his bloodied lips. I can taste the saltiness of his blood and sweat, and I shudder in turn with desire for this helpless man that I have in my power. I suck at him, and raise myself over him and look down at him. For a moment, his deep and dark eyes lock with mine, and I am sure that he could read my soul at that moment.
I sigh. I never in my most wonderful dreams guessed that one day I would have such a man to myself. He has turned his head from me now, and I can see his hair is matted with blood and vomit. I am pushing my hands through his hair.
He is saying something to me. I lower my body to him so that I can hear his words.
'I need a drink.' he whispers. I can hear his voice is croaky, and I unwrap my arms from him and get off the bed. I will not drug him again; I have him where I want him.
I have a sports bottle with orange flavoured water in, and I hold it to his lips. His eyes are closed as he sips at the water, sucking hard on the fluid; some is running down his chin and dripping onto the bed.
'Enough.' I say, and remove the bottle from him. He whispers 'Thank you.'
-0-0-0-
The water tasted good on Aaron's dry palate. He coughed slightly as the liquid came too quickly and some precious water ran down his chin onto the bed. Linda left him for a moment, and returned with a bowl of soapy water and a cloth. She wet the cloth and began to wash him.
She began at his feet, gently washing away the blood that had dried there from the tight restraints that held them. Then slowly up his legs to his groin. She tried not to be angry as he pulled himself away from her as she carefully washed him. Pink water ran down his hips onto the bed.
His hips, and up his sides to his arm pits, and then across his chest. Water was dripping from his wet body onto the bed, but she didn't care. The feeling of washing him was so sensual she was bursting with desire.
She washed the clotted blood from his chest, leaving a raw gash and a hole on his pale and perfect skin.
Again she saw the scars on his chest and arms. She touched them in turn, counting them.
Nine.
'Who did this to you?' she said. Her man didn't answer. She paused on the scar in the middle of his breast bone, touching it lightly with rough fingers, wondering how anyone could hurt him. 'Who did this?'
She pressed down on the scar, and felt his body shudder, whether in pain or simply the memory. He didn't answer her though. The memory was too distressing for him. It brought to his mind his little boy, somewhere out there beyond his reach, somewhere where he couldn't hurt him.
Tears filled his eyes, and Linda noticed them. She leaned down and kissed away the tears, relishing their taste and what they stood for. She took the cloth and held it to his bruised cheek, allowing the water to run into his hair. Gently she wiped the blood from his battered mouth, and cooled his eyes. Then she rinsed his thick dark hair, soaking the bed with diluted blood.
'Don't be sad.' she said. 'I am here.'
And she climbed onto him again, nuzzling her face into his damp hair and neck, biting gently and feeling the excitement overpower her again.
