Page 22 of Delivered to the Devil

Curiosity makes me glance down as he rolls up his sleeves to reveal a canvas of intricate tattoos on his left arm. But despite wanting to inspect the patterns and shapes on his arm, I keep looking back up. When he turns to rummage in his duffle bag, I realize it’s because his eyes are my anchor. Without them, I start to drift, and a black fog creeps around my brain as I watch him procure a vibrator egg and two bundles of rope.

I badly want his eyes back on me when he starts tying coarse jute ropes around my ankles. But the ropes tug me back to reality, sending cold truth slithering down my spine. I shouldn’t want anything from this man. This is not an intimate moment between the two of us. No matter how skilled or gentle his hands are as they coil the rope into perfectly aligned rows, this is not a rope scene meant to titillate and excite. This is a ruthlesscriminal preparing me to be used by a corrupt politician who has me trapped in this city as a convenient target for his sadistic whims.

Silent tears trickle down my temples, and a desperate whimper escapes my mouth when the first rope tugs at my foot as Janos ties it to a corner of the bed. I burrow my face into the pillow, trying to shut everything out. But Janos won’t allow me to forget. He rubs the pad of his thumb in circles on the small indentation above my heel. The movement is slow and gentle as if it’s meant to soothe, but nothing will ease the chilling fear constricting my chest.

I remain still as Janos ties both my legs to the corners of the bed, spreading them apart to force my pussy on full display. I hate myself for not resisting more, but all the fight is gone. I’m so paralyzed I can’t even reach for the sheets to cover myself.

When he has tied my legs, he leans over the foot of the bed to push the vibrator egg inside me. He wastes no time teasing or touching—just shoves it straight in without even lingering at my opening. And there’s no need for more. My fucked-up body has provided enough lubrication to allow the intrusion.

Once the toy is in place, it’s easy enough to ignore it if I don’t clench my inner muscles. But when it comes alive with buzzing vibrations, I shoot my horrified eyes up to Janos. He doesn’t see me anymore, though. His eyes are fixed between my legs as he presses a button on the small remote in his hand. The vibrations intensify, more and more, until my entire body twitches with the need for release.

I kick against the ropes, refusing to give him this, but I can’t control anything. An involuntary moan slips past my lips, and I shove my hand down to rip the toy out and stop this degrading pleasure. But Janos slaps my hand away before I can even reach the toy, and then the vibrations stop.

Pressing my head into the pillow, I let out a pained wail. I’m not sure if I hate him more for cutting off the orgasm or forcing this need upon me in the first place. I’m not sure who I hate more—him or myself. I should know for sure when he drags a finger through my slit and dries it off on the sheets like I’m some dirty thing he doesn’t want on his hands. But my brain and emotions don’t cooperate. Instead of directing my anger at my perpetrator, it shoots straight back at myself, filling me with a feeling of being stupid and naïve for having thought there could ever be more to this man. Whatever connection I’ve felt between us is a hoax.

The hoax continues as Janos lifts me up to sit and scoots in behind me. It takes all I have to resist the illusion of comfort when he wraps an arm around my waist and holds me close.It’s only a means to restrain me.

“Please, just tie me up instead,” I beg. “I can’t take this.”

“Gabor wants it like this,” Janos whispers, nudging my hair off my shoulder. “I do too.”

“Please,” I repeat, but my words fade into the silence as a new warped intermission begins.

Needing to escape the feigned intimacy, I lean forward against his arm, but there’s no escaping the warmth of his strong body. It seeps into my back even as I strain to create distance, and when the front door at long last opens, I’m quivering with the effort and weeping quietly into my hands.

I don’t have to lift my head to see who enters. I know it’s Gabor who starts taking off his clothes—folding them neatly. He takes his time, and the shaking in my body grows as I struggle to reel in the tears.

“Is she ready?” Gabor asks.

Sometimes, he speaks Hungarian to Janos, other times English. It seems random, but I have a feeling it’s as calculatedas everything else. He wants me to hear him speak of me like an object—poke at my fear by hinting at what’s to come.

I feel Janos nod behind me.

“Great.” Gabor crawls up between my legs. His eyes are almost palpable on my pussy, and I jerk, trying to close my legs.

“Be still,” Janos orders, tightening his grip around my waist. He clearly thinks I’m about to burst into another fit of struggling. But that’s not what it is. Jerking my legs is simply an automatic reaction. There’s no fight left. Only hopelessness.

The need to succumb to his deceptive embrace grows stronger by the second, but I keep leaning forward, hiding my face in my palms, refusing to take his false comfort.

Long fingers slip between my dripping folds. “Look,” Gabor demands.

Before I realize the order is meant for me, Janos wraps his large hands around my wrists, pulling them aside to uncover my eyes.

“Nooo,” I whimper at the sight of Gabor’s fingers dragging a string of moisture from my pussy. I glue my eyes shut, refusing to face my body’s betrayal.

“Look at me!” Gabor’s booming command makes my eyes fly open. “You’re begging for my cock.” His eyes go wide with scornful arrogance, but the vile expression does nothing to lessen the magnificent power radiating off him as he looms over me.

My submissive soul holds no logic or self-respect. My inner muscles contract around the egg in response to his dominance. An involuntary whimper falls over my lips as the vibrations begin anew, shooting into my sensitive nerve endings.

I hate myself.I hate myself so, so much for being this sick. I shouldn’t want any of this. I shouldn’t be wet. I shouldn’t want the vibrations to keep going.

Yet part of me does.

Gabor’s brown eyes narrow as his mouth pulls up into a wide smile, as cruel as it is charming. “You like this.”

My eyes fall in lowly submission, landing on his cock that rises merrily into the air, glistening with precum at the tip. A cold shudder runs through me, and more tears fall from my eyes. Tonight, it won’t just be his fingers. Tonight, he’ll consummate the violation—mark his ownership over my body and tarnish my soul.

And there’s nothing I can do about it.

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