Page 31 of Take Me

No one answers, and I try again a little louder.

“Please, stop. I—I’m sorry. I won’t ever run off again. I promise.” My voice breaks on the last words. No one but myself hears, and I can’t bear the broken sound. I can’t bear to be in this body that’s not mine anymore. I can’t bear the cold, empty loneliness.

Tears break from my eyes, and hoarse whimpers erupt from my throat. I try to stop it, but this is just another thing I have no control over. The whimpers turn into sobs, and my world becomes steeped in agony as my grief is the only thing I hear, the painful pulsations in my body the only thing I feel.

Sniffling, I try to keep control over one last thing, but it’s no use. Soon, my nose is running, and snot and tears wet the enclosed confines of the bag, draping me in more lonely humiliation.

I can’t take it. I just can’t. Desperation builds inside my head, threatening to explode. I jerk against the restraints, fueled by blinding panic.

“Let me go!” I wail, only for my own ears to hear. But I can’t stop even though the desperation drives me deeper into the panic. “Let me go. I can’t take it. Stop!”

My world blurs as I teeter on the edge of something. A breaking point? Unconsciousness? I don’t know. I just know that something’s about to snap.

And then it all ends.

The vibrations cease, and the dildo goes still inside me.

My screams die, leaving my breaths an echoing sound in the stillness as I wait for something to happen. But nothing does. I just sit there, breathing hard and reeling as my entire body aches from the intensity ofeverything.

At some point, I let go of the fear and let the stillness claim me into some sort of warped rest. Everything is hollow and empty, and my body becomes a dull weight that is there yet not quite mine to feel as I sink into the darkness.

My breathing is calm and my mind the same when my world is suddenly thrust back into a state of alarm.

The buzzing begins with a force that shoots an overload of sensation into my sensitive nub, and the dildo begins at a hazardous pace that has a screech like a demon’s wail clawing up my throat.

I jerk and strain against the straps, the wood, and the buzzing toy, but there’s nothing I can do to escape the onslaught of sensation. Nothing but scream and claw my fingers against the wooden armrests.

The sensations are like fireworks gone wrong in my nerves, and the jolts are painful as they rip through my body. But slowly, they coalesce. My core starts humming, drawing the energy toward my center. It all gathers low in my belly, pulsing and contracting with an intensity that nearly has me fainting. My moans deepen, and my toes curl. I’m just about to come when it all ends.

Just like that.

The buzzing stops and the dildo draws out completely.

Cold, aching emptiness slithers through my veins, and I wail like a child.

I can’t take it anymore. Not the loneliness, the aching desire, or the strain in my body. There’s simply no energy left.

Yet somehow, I go through the same violent turbulence of cruel sensation and terrible emptiness three more times.

When the dildo draws out and the buzzing stops for the last time, I don’t even scream. Not a sound moves past my lips, and it feels like a miracle that my lungs will work to take in air.

My skin is damp and sticky, my mouth dry andscratchy. Allmy joints and muscles hurt, and pins and needles stab against my skull.

A gust of air has my breath catching from the shock. I haven’t felt anyone’s presence for a very long time, and knowing someone is close is as unsettling as it’s reassuring.

The ear muffs disappear, and the relief of hearing something beyond my own wails and whimpers is so great that I start weeping again. I barely make any sounds, but the tears keep trickling down my face behind the bag.

Someone leans close, and a hot breath seeps through the fabric against my ear. “Are you gonna be a good girl tomorrow and get on Dax’s table so he can clean out your ass?”

The constriction around my lungs eases at the sound of Mikhail’s voice, and I feel like I can breathe again for the first time since Dax put the bag over my head.

“Yes,” I say without hesitance, though there’s barely any sound in my voice.

“What’s that?” Long fingers trail along my collarbone, and I ache to reach out and touch him—to feel that he’s truly there and it’s not just an illusion my burned-out brain conjures. I need to find out if he’s mad or he has forgiven me for running off.

“Yes, Sir,” I manage with more clarity.

He moves away, and the loss is as painful as the denial of the last orgasm.

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