Page 34 of Shadows in Bloom

Year after year it’s the same thing.

He captures me.

He sets me free.

I run.

And he always finds me.

I’ve fought the hold Salem has over me for as long as I can remember. I’ve ignored his calls, ran from him, escaped his chains countless times. I’ve endured more pain at his hands than I have any other way over the course of my life.

Hot breath ghosts my ear, followed by the soft caress of his tongue tracing down my neck. My body hums with anticipation while my mind screams at me to fight, and to run.

As he bites into my collarbone and sucks on my flesh, his hand reaches down… down… down… until a slick, wet finger slides into my ass. He fingers me, slow at first, each suck against my flesh matches each long, gentle stroke of his finger.

I’m helpless to stop him. Powerless against his touch.

Another finger slips in, his thrusts go deeper, and the sucking continues.

By the time he’s done, my neck and collarbone will be covered in bruises. He wants his marks on my flesh. It’s all he’s ever wanted. To claim me. To break me. To scar not only my body, but my mind as well.

Salem wants nothing more than to engulf me in his insanity.

When a third finger breaches my hole, my back arches and I cry out as he forces those thick digits into my prostate. I beg, I plead, I promise him I won’t try to run this time if he just fills me with his cock that’s leaking precum all over my thigh.

“Please, please, please… Salem, please give me more.” I don’t know who I am anymore. This man has tortured me from the moment we met. He’s broken my bones, scarred my body, and manipulated me in ways no psychiatrist would ever believe.

Yet here I am, begging for his cock like it’s the oxygen I need to breathe. And fuck, sometimes, I think it is. There are moments I consider myself and wonder if it’s me who’s actually insane. Moments like this, when Salem’s focus is solely on me and my pleasure, are what makes me crave his touch and think about all the ways I could fix him.

You can’t fix him, logic reminds me. You can’t fix fucking crazy.

“You know I’ll give you anything you wish for.” As his tongue traces the curve of my lips, he exhales. “My sweet, beautiful Justice…” Another thrust of his fingers sends me over the edge. I shout out as my release spills over my abs and chest. “You break so beautifully, love,” he says softly.

Salem pulls his fingers from my tortured hole and traces them over my abs, swiping up my come and licking it from his fingers like it’s a delicacy. When he leans down and licks into my mouth, I give in and kiss him back with ferocity, tasting myself on my tongue. Our teeth clash, lips meld, and my breaths heave as Salem smother’s me with his body until he realises I’m enjoying it, and he pulls away.

A pathetic whimper escapes as I chase his lips as much as I can, but being chained to the bed doesn’t allow me much room for movement.

When he straddles my chest and starts jerking off, I’m fixated on the girth of his thick cock, the piercings along his length, and the blushed red head, pierced with a thick, silver ring that peeks through his fist with every stroke.

“Open your mouth, love, I’m going to come on your tongue.” Pupils blown wide, he stares down at me as his release smothers my mouth and chin and I greedily swallow it down.

Seconds later, shame burns hot as reality hits like a punch to my gut. I shouldn’t want this torture. It has to end. I need to purge Salem from my system. From my life. I need to escape to somewhere he’ll never find me and start a new life that doesn’t involve his sick, twisted games.

Salem traces the thick, raised scars across my torso and continues to trail his fingertips along the rough edges until he reaches my hip. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says with reverence. “Your body is perfection.”

I don’t thank him for saying this. My body is horrifically scarred… most of the scars, thanks to him.

I don’t know if there’s a name for his fetishes and depravities, but the way he looks at me as though I’m the most magnificent being he’s ever seen, is exhilarating. But… there are moments when he looks at me as though he’s ready and willing to brutally devour me, and it’s nothing short of terrifying.

“Stay there, my love, I’ll be back to clean you up,” he says, dragging his fingers across my torso as he leaves.

He returns from the bathroom with a warm, wet washcloth and cleans me gently before throwing it into the laundry basket and pulling on a pair of loose-fitting grey track pants.

After a soft kiss to my lips, Salem leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I tug on the chains—the cuffs are loose since he always likes to give me a false sense of freedom. Twisting my hand, I pull, tug, and manoeuvre it until the cuff digs into my wrist and pain takes over.

When the bedroom door cracks open, I still as the smell of freshly cooked meat wafts into the room and my stomach rumbles involuntarily. No, no, no. I bite the inside of my mouth as he enters, a silver platter complete with cloche in his hands.

He places the platter on the bedside table, perusing my body. When his eyes stop at my wrists, I swallow hard.

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