Page 47 of In Love with the Devil

He has stopped coming. It’s not like I was eating much food anyways. My throat is as dry as as sandpaper. It burns for water. I start cupping it from the sink, but eventually, he shuts it down.

What sends me into a panic is not my stomach twisting on itself due to starvation as horrible as it is, it's the thought that he's forgotten me. Deep inside, there's a sense that I’m so worthlessthat evenhe, the man who lost his fucking mind over me, has forgotten me. Like Mom used to forget me in the bathroom.

As I run my fingers through my sticky hair, I remind myself that my name is Astoria Torres. I am pi because I’ve never added to anything whole…Three point fourteen fifteen ninety-two….(3.141592).

Julian, please.By the time I finish making two braids, a pathetic sob pours out of me. Even though I know weeping is a waste, especially when I’m so dehydrated, I can’t stop it. My emotions are too vivid and raw.

I don’t know how many days it takes to die from dehydration, but there's a dry burning sensation from my throat to my chapped lips. I can’t swallow anymore and I’m so dizzy. The world swirls when I move. This is how he's going to kill me. He made my worse fear come true. I'm locked in the dark, and forgotten.Three point one…. What’s the next digit?No. No, I got it. March fourteen, three point fourteen.March fourteen.March fourteen.March fourteen.March fourteen.March fourteen.

The sound of the outside metal door opening wakes me. My heart hurries. I can’t form the words, but in my mind, I’m begging him to give me something to drink. It takes forever for me to sit up, preparing to get the tray from the slab. Instead, the door opens. The light stabs my closed eyes. I’ve become more comfortable in the darkness. He enters and the light goes away, but I hear him breathing and smell his glorious aftershave. His steps come closer to me and I think I’m going to die from the terror.

“I brought you a gift,” he says as he gathers my hair to the back.

I take in his deep voice. I'd forgotten how deep it is and the effects it has on my body. It raises goosebumps on my skin, wakes something in my lower belly. A subtle heat rises in me. After not hearing anything other than his steps for too long, his words alone feel like a gift. A silky fabric covers my eyes shut. The knot is tight in the back. No chance of me seeing anything. I tell myself hearing his voice, smelling him, and feeling the heat emanating from his body is enough.

Without a word, he pulls at my hair until I lie down, yanks down the sheets, and holds my legs wide open. Immediately, I lose control of my breathing, but I'm so scared to piss him off that I don't dare move or defy him. What is he going to do? His warm spit slides down my pussy. I’m so thirsty I wish he would’ve done the same to my mouth.

“Sit up.”

I obey him. He pinches my nose then widens my mouth. "Stick you tongue out."

When I do as he says, he pushes my head further back so it's directed at the ceiling. His spit drags down to the back of my tongue, wetting it, comforting then filling my throat. Usually I would vomit just at the thought of it, but it’s the only liquid I’ve had for far too long. Like the first gulp from a refreshing drink, I feel it go down my esophagus, relieving the dryness.

Gratitude springs up in me as it coats it. I’ll do anything to have my throat wet again. I hear him jerking and understand right away what he wants from me. He wants what we used to do in my bedroom. I flick at my clit and jump the first feel of his fingers touching my breast. My nipple shrinks under the caress and pinching.

The sound of his juices and our heavy breathing fills the room. Then electric currents travel down from the tip of my nipple with every pull and pinch to the tip of my clit. I can’t help but moan as all of me begs for more of him.

Touch.

If it weren't for the dehydration I'd cry out of gratitude. Realizing I’m starving so much for all of these things, not just water, a cry breaks free from me. But there are no tears, no voice coming out of me. I lean my cheek against the arm that keeps playing with my breast, my face taking the warmth, the veins, the muscles onhim. Like a bitch, I’m need his caress on my head, but all he gives me is the holding of my breast, then the pinching of my nipple.

When he pants and moans, it’s the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard, making the butterflies inside me flutter. I'm so relieved that I can still do that to this man, this monster. My clit is rigid. The climax stacks. I don’t want him to stop, although what we’re doing brings back horrible memories and disgusts me, I need it. I need him to talk to me, to touch me, to give me something, anything to drink. My throat is screaming for water. My moans come out mute and I’m terrified I’ll never speak again.

In the midst of his panting and grunting while pleasuring his dick so close to my ear, he asks me, “You still thirsty?”

My cheek rubs against his arm as I nod. He turns so that the tip of his dick slides on my lips. I lick it as he jerks it. He pinches my nose again, letting me know he wants me to open my mouth again. He fucks my mouth, his cock sliding in and out of me, pre-come wetting my tongue. He groans and moans, his breathing loud and heavy.Both his hands are flat against my temples as he rocks in and out just like mine are flat against his his hips.

“Fuck.” His deep raspy voice makes me shiver.

I hurry the sucking as if this is everything I’ve ever wanted, because I want the come to wet my mouth and throat. I need it so badly.

He pushes all the way to my throat and cuts off my airway. My hold on his thighs relaxes. His hands tighten on my temples, while his entire body shakes. The thick vein on his cock jolts. Thewarm come fills my mouth, coating away the torture that was the dryness and soreness. My finger tips dig into his thighs, and I pull away a little to swallow again and again as he spurts into me. I drink it all. I’ve never thought I could be grateful for a man to come in my mouth, but I needed it like nothing before. Even after he stops, I continue sucking as he whimpers. He sounds beautiful. A sick pride rises in me for bringing my torturer, my rapist, my captor down to whimpering simply by sucking his cock. Gently, he pushes me away from it then lowers my hands to my pussy but only tapping it twice.

“It’s your turn, little bird.”

I’m too dizzy to even process his words, so I lie back. His warm mouth covers my breast and sucks on it. I gasp at the aggressive pulling from his mouth and pleasure myself, using his spit as my lubricant. Is my voice back? I try to moan and hear it but it hurts.

“That’s my pretty bird,” he keeps repeating. The praise feeds my soul, as my breathing rushes in and out of me. My body coils tighter with every flicking and sucking until I can’t take it anymore. There's a snap to the tension in my body, my butt jumps off the bed. Suddenly any touch is too much, but he doesn’t stop. Almost inaudible, short whimpers shoot out of me with every wave that courses through me.Euphoria overwhelms me, warming me all over.

When he gets up and I hear his two steps walking away, I try to speak but it hurts so much I wince. I hold my throat then massage it with my fingers beneath the collar. I search for him with my hands. He’s no longer next to the bed. My forehead wrinkles with excruciating despair.Please don’t leave me alone again. Please.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m coming right back.”

That’s when I hear the water running from the sink’s faucet. He returns to me and the top of a cup rubs my cheek.

“Don’t drink too fast or you’ll vomit and feel worse.”

I know what he just said, but I can’t help gulping it, some of it falling from my mouth, trailing to my chest. It tastes so good. I wish I could drown in it. It fills and goes down my esophagus, running through my veins and arteries, mixing and thinning my blood. The headache eases a little bit.

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