Page 6 of His Black Onyx

She cries out as if in pain, screaming and howling, and I stop moving. I just hold her like that, one hand still clasping her hair and pinning her down on the mattress while the other is placed on her warm sex, applying just a hint of pressure. I'm not moving, not doing anything but holding her in place like this, but my touch is enough for her to hyperventilate in fear. She continues to screech even after I stop journeying further, squirming and shaking beneath my hands as if I was handling her roughly.

My sinister laugh mixes with her sounds of torment, as I wait for her to calm down. As much as I enjoy seeing her like this, I need her to understand her place. The sooner she gets accustomed to her situation, the sooner she'll be of use to us.

I patiently watch her slowly wear herself down, her wails turning into desperate sobs, her piercing screams transforming into wimpy moaning, until she opens her eyes to find mine. We regard each other in tense silence, her teary eyes wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity. She seems to be waiting for something, and her expectant gaze almost pushes me further, against my better judgment.

But whatever it is that she's waiting for, it won't be happening any time soon.

"You don't get to tell me no, little girl," I tell her. "When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it—or else...."

She gasps when I bend my middle finger at her core. It's a minute motion, barely evident, but the impact on her is as big as I could hope for. She jerks up, her eyes widening, her frame cringing.

"Please, don't—"

"No, that's not how it works," I interrupt, pulling again on her hair, all while bending my finger a little more, further parting her lips through the fabric of her panties. "You don't tell me what to do or what not to do. Understand?"

She whines, grimacing as she closes her eyes in shame.

"Understand?" The urgency in my voice causes her to respond before I have to worsen her predicament.

"Yes," she breathes, suggesting a nod. "Yes, I understand."

"Good girl."

I let go of her, evoking a sigh of relief from her trembling frame when I distance myself. She's shivering, obviously repulsed by me touching her like that. It stirs an anger inside me that comes as a surprise.

Why does this bother me so much? What the fuck did I expect to happen?

"You'll have to get used to my touch," I tell her, ignoring the new wave of shock that scurries across her pretty face.

"Why?" she wants to know. "Why are you doing this to me? Are you some kind of... slave trader?"

I can't suppress a chuckle.

"It's not that simple, little girl. Not that simple at all."

She inhales, her breath hiking as she attempts to suppress a fresh wave of tears. I admire her efforts to be strong, even when it's so obvious that she's not.

This, we can work with. Determination, a will that works in our favor.

"Please, tell me," she pleads. "Tell me what this is about."

"A demand, huh."

She hurries to shake her head. "No. An appeal."

That's better, way better.

I clear my throat, relishing in the way she jerks up when I move back to the bed, sitting down on the edge right next to her. I hated her evident repulsion at my touch, as intrusive as it may have been. But I revel in her intimidation. It's a healthy fear that will keep her in check.

Her flat chest heaves erratically, driven by tense anticipation as she awaits my explanation.

I know I have to tell her. I need her to work with me on this, and I'll have to bring her into the loop to some extent for that to happen.

But where to start?

How do you explain a situation as fucked up as mine?

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