Page 56 of The Game

He was literally just next to me. I whirl around, eyes focusing in on darkened doorways and the mouths of alleys. He has to be behind me, right? So I should just keep moving forward? Tears of frustration and fear begin to form in my eyes, but this time, the fear is reminiscent of those nights my father was drunk, in a bad mood. It was tiptoeing around the house, closing doors so softly a ghost couldn’t have made less noise. For if I had set him off, I would never see it coming. He would strike when I least expected it, so it was always better to simply be on guard.

Sniffling, I turn back around and decide to keep moving forward. He’s out there somewhere, those keen eyes watching my every move. It is almost more haunting.

Again, I walk mindlessly for another half an hour, my feet aching, my nose running, my jaw clenched from shivering. I cannot hold onto any discernible thought, my mind wavering between fear of the present and the fear of the past, the two somehow so closely morphed in my mind it’s hard to discern.

But a small noise alerts me, something behind me, the slip of a shoe on wet pavement. Breath catching, I hug myself tighter and rush forward faster, the clack of my heels like hooves for how loud they are. Another sound blasts through the night, another scuffle of a shoe behind me.

Breath coming in shaky gasps, I don’t know what I should do. Naturally, when it comes to fight or flight, I’m neither; I fucking freeze. And I so badly want to freeze right now, but I squeeze out a few tears and push forward, sniffling louder now. No matter what I chant to calm myself down, it doesn’t work.

The mouth of an alley up ahead should alert me to possible danger, but I am too focused on whoever is behind me to think clearly. As soon as I pass the closest edge of the mouth, he rushes at me from behind, and my lungs suck in a breath to scream, if not for his wide palm slamming over my mouth. The sound is muffled and cut off as he wrangles my body quickly into submission, my heart racing so fast it’s making my head spin.

True to what I predicted, I physically cannot put up much of a fight; my limbs are useless, my mind unable to connect. These are the instincts I was hardwired with, the ones I honed when submitting to my father’s beatings. My breath comes in ragged gasps through my nose, not enough oxygen for how quickly my heart is racing, and I slump against him, on the verge of passing out. He loosens his grip slightly, and I suck in a huge breath of air, only to choke on a sob as it exits.

He pushes me further into the alley, all the way to the back before he pins me to the wall from behind.

“Such a slutty, lost little bunny,” he seethes in my ear.

He doesn’t relent, and I whimper even more, for as afraid I am, I am just as aroused.

“What a little whore, dressed like this, begging to be fucked,” he growls lowly from behind me, using his body to keep mine pinned to the bricks as he snakes one hand down to the hem of my fluffy, torn dress. Whimpering against his hand as my breathing turns erratic again, his cold fingers slip between my thighs, the tights he bought me only thigh-high.

He brushes his two middle fingers across the lining of my thong to the front with barely enough pressure, and I whine against him, wanting to feel good, wanting the reward immediately, but I know it won’t be that easy, and in the knowledge, I am terrified.

He’s quick, knocking my legs apart, unzipping his pants before moving back to my thong and brutishly ripping it from my skin. My breathing doubles as my body shakes, but I still can’t fight, my eyes glued wide to the bricks in front of me.

“Scream for me,” he whispers along my neck before he buries his girth in me in one thrust. Springing forward away from the acute pain, I do scream, the intrusion unexpected in that force and depth, but as soon as he sets his pace and my wetness coats his cock, my cries turn to moans, and I’m bracing for an orgasm.

“What a little slut, already getting tight around my cock when I force it into you,” he growls before bending down, lips smoothing over the juncture of my shoulder and neck. He suctions his lips there and sucks,hard, making another scream bubble up my throat as he slows his thrusts and deepens them.

“You’re going to be covered in my marks, baby. You’re going to wear them like fucking jewelry.”

He rips himself out of me and yanks me backwards, fisting my hair and forcing me to my knees before he presents his cock to me. Immediately, the desire to gag overcomes me; he’s released my mouth, only holding me by my hair, and I lurch forward, nauseated because the last man to fuck my throat raw was Daniel, and I hadn’t been able to eat for a few days after.

Teddy sinks before my eyes, crouching down, the demonic look etched into every facet of his face. I know what he’s doing; he’s giving me a chance to fight him. Hardening my gaze into a glare, I almost regret it when he stands to his full height and fists his cock before my lips.

“Be a good girl, little whore.”

Breathing deeply through my nose, I try to obey, but the thought of Daniel is too potent. Closing my eyes, I shake my head and whine, tears coating and cooling my cheeks. His deft fingers strike out, clutching the hinges of my jaw and forcing my mouth open to avoid more pain. The moment a sob claws its way up my throat, he thrusts into my mouth, and I gag. He gives little reprieve, working his way slowly down my throat, his groans of ecstasy making me livid. I never want to get on my knees for a man ever again, and as that fury festers, as he chokes me and tears roll down my cheeks, I muster the courage to fight him.

Splaying my palms on his thighs, I shove him away as hard as I can, which doesn’t do much, so I shove again and try to stand. His answering chuckle is my only warning as he yanks me up and shoves me back against the wall. Throwing up my skirts as I pant and blubber and frustratedly cry at his insurmountable strength, he lines the head of his cock to my dripping entrance and thrusts back in, snaking his arm under my right leg and raising it for better access.

As soon as he does, it hits that spot, and my head thuds back with a moan.

“See what good little sluts who suck cock get?”

Refusing to answer, his free hand strikes out, pinching the sides of my throat. My eyes spring open to stare into his, finding the malice that I need there. I need to hate him in this moment, and I want to fight him off like I’ve never been able to fight Daniel off.

“There she is, my little fighter,” he hisses, an unhinged glint to his eye, and it’s then I understand; he’s wanted to push me to the edge, and arguably over it, so that I’d finally see my own strength. It’s something I needed to do before we built our plan to get out of there.

So I fight him with every ounce of energy I have, shoving with my arms, kicking and flailing my legs. He subdues me at every turn, his cock buried to the hilt, shifting and rubbing against that spot but because ofmymovements now. I’m so wet he glides in and out at the slightest provocation, and he’s buried so deep every shift sends a twinge into my ovaries.

Having enough of my games, he slaps his hand over my mouth again and flips out his knife, slicing down the middle of my bodice as a frustrated sob escapes me. The chilled air makes the skin across my breasts go taut, my nipples stiffening into peaks, my entire body lurching and then stilling as he flattens the cool metal against my chest. My breathing turns erratic again as fear pulls me under, making me that little girl again.

“Mmmm,” I whine against his palm. Tipping the knife so the sharpened blade is against my delicate skin, my cries double, but I cannot move beyond my uncontrollable shaking. He brings it closer and closer to my erect nipple, across the smooth expanse of my milky breast, my eyes tracing its movement, my skin committing it to memory as my pussy clenches and begs for any sort of friction.

Finally, he scrapes it across the sensitive flesh of my nipple, and my breath catches in my throat as he rolls his hips slightly at the same time, sliding right against my spot as his knife flicks across my nipple. My body hunches over of its own accord, tensing as a scream builds from deep inside me. He simply shifts his weight to his other leg, and that tiny movement is all I need to come undone. I scream into his palm as I climax, my knees shaking as my world shatters and his cock coats my insides with his own cum. Wetness gushes down my leg as I squirt, my hips jerking as my orgasm ebbs, my moans and whines muffled so beautifully by his warm hand. He shudders and groans above me, cursing his praise.

“Such a goodfuckinggirl.”

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