Page 12 of Throttle All the Way

By two o’clock in the morning I was tucked into bed, my eyes glancing over to the door where a chair was perched against the handle, locking it in place. I glanced at my phone, not sure what to expect. I had no one. No friends, no family, occasionally Bonnie would check in on me, but for the most part I kept to myself. I preferred it that way. Less connections meant less drama and less people that knew my sad story.

I shut the television off and slid back into the pillows. I cuddled into the softness of the robe and as I closed my eyes I saw him, or at least a shadow of him.

I could still smell his aftershave and the scent of leather that seemed to linger on his skin. He smelled expensive and the scent was oddly enticing. He’d been rough, his hands pinning me to the bed, the callousness of his thumb sliding over my clit made me wet with need.

I clenched my eyes shut, not knowing what the hell to think but could it be possible that I liked what he did. How he did it. How he was so eager to give me pleasure but stopped there, truly not wanting to harm me. How he’d stared at me with those dark eyes when he was done, running away as if this need haunted him too.

I moaned, raising an arm and covering my eyes as my hand roamed over the curve of my breast, pinching the nipple as I remembered how hot his mouth felt there.

I knew I was triggered by sex. These men would sometimes force me to obey them and it aroused me more than I cared to admit to. But they were my private fantasies, things I never told a soul. This man had come in, taken advantage of me, but instead of crying about it I was sliding my fingers across my wet slit, remembering how good his mouth had felt on me.

I was beyond sick. A casualty of my own circumstances.

His deep voice had sent chills down my spine. His words of desperation echoed in my head as I rubbed at my pussy, racing towards that dark, sweet release. I needed to cum.

My moans filled the room as my objections turned into surrender and I slid my fingers inside of me, flicking my clit as I thought of his dark silhouette on top of me. I was as perverse as my clientele, needing release from a stranger who was clearly obsessed with me. But oh how good that obsession had felt as he dragged his tongue over my core, drenching my thighs in bite marks. Marks I still had on me as I showered the next morning.

That's it, angel. I just want to take care of you.

His words made my body shudder, heightening the pleasure I was self-inducing. I moaned a deepyesas my body began to shake.

I just need one taste.

I cried out as the orgasm crashed over me. I dragged my hand down my face in shame, biting my fist as my body shook, my fingers still brushing at my clit in a fevered fervor as I came for him once again.

I lay there, staring up at the ceiling realizing that being with Yulian Volkov had fucked me up severely. I had been conditioned to cum when I was forced. Conditioned to accept my fate. I was a lot stronger than most, but I still had residue of his abuse in me. And it manifested in the most intense orgasms I'd ever had.

Disgusting?

Possibly.

But who are you to judge me?

I was just as fucked up as the entire fucking world I lived in. The only difference was that I accepted it, and apparently, I was fucked up enough to enjoy the darkness.

How did this truth let me sleep at night?

Like a fucking rock. Which is exactly what I did. I turned on my side and fell asleep.

My shame was my own, no one else's. And so were my secrets. They were mine to bear, mine to suffer, and mine to enjoy.

CIPHER

Port Townsend, WA -The Black Pagan Bar

December 1993…PresentDay

I had become something different.Someone I didn’t recognize. And as I sat here, staring at her, I wondered if I had become as vile as the men I was chasing. Either way, I regretted my actions that night and I'd stayed away for as long as I could. Forcing myself to shut off the cameras, to simply make sure she was safe, to put an officer in her lobby.

I did the best I could, until tonight. Volkov was getting closer and according to Bulldog- Bear, one of our Founding members and VP of the Hellbound Lovers, had heard Volkov was in Los Angeles with plans on ‘resolving some unfinished business’ in Washington before heading back to Russia.

I could only assume Mila was the unfinished business.

She'd been escorting one of Port Townsend's Council Manager’s sons to several events, and I had her in close proximity for a little while. She was dressed to the nines for this putz. A red dress that literally looked glued to every one of hercurves, her tits nearly spilling out, and her black leather, come fuck me heels, had me as hard as a rock.

Little Tommy Lingdale was, for a better lack of a word, a douche bag. A frat boy with a silver spoon in his mouth who was as selfish as they’d come. Tonight, he was drowning his sorrows of his failing investment at the only bar that was open late in Port Townsend.

And my charge, my sexy little kitten, was making sure this asshole would get home safe. I grimaced, disgusted as the pig reached out to pinch her nipples as she was clearly asking him to take her home.

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