Page 48 of Grave Love
The nail cracks into the wood, the steady thud of the hammer mesmerizing me. The second nail. The third. The darkness drowns me, the heat of my own body beginning to suffocate me. He lifts the edge of the wooden plank, and I stick my foot through. The pressure of his weight pinches my foot; the pain splits me in half, and I tuck my foot back inside.
There’s no way this is real. It isn’t what he wants. It’s not what we agreed to.
A fire stirs deep within me, forcing itself to the surface.
“Come, little corpse,” he says, his voice distorted through the wood. “Come for me.”
I close my eyes, willing myself to go to another place. Where I’m not being buried alive. Dirt taps against the top of the coffin, gentle like rain, like the fountain in the lobby of the medical spa. My hand squeezes between my legs. My slit is dry, and even that slight touch sends a shock through me. I’m too fucking sensitive.
I force myself to look to the side. It’s all wooden planks. And I’m crying. It’s irritating.
I have to come. I can’t keep crying like this.
Why can’t I get wet?
I suck my fingers, then rub my clit with one hand and penetrate myself with the other, my underwear keeping me bound to my own body. I could fake an orgasm, but somehow, Blaze would know. I dig into my flesh, mimicking the way Blaze made me come in the casket, how I squirted everywhere. How embarrassing it was.The only reason you exist right now is to please me,he whispered. His voice was so calming, it was like he was making love to me.
Doesthisplease him?
Leaving me alone. Tucked inside of a coffin. Buried in the earth.
He can’t even see me die.
And I can’t see him.
I rub, and rub, and swirl my fingers. That peak is so far away. The more I try, the more difficult it is. The farther away it goes. I’m trapped in my own mind.
Thisshouldbe my fantasy. This should be exactly what I want. Buried alive by a man who fucks me like he hates me. Who doesn’t care if I come, as long ashegets what he wants.
If I die right now—trapped inside of the earth, alone, without him fucking me—then I did this to myself. I practically begged him for it.
How many women has he buried alive?
You’re just a body now,he said.No mind. No soul. Not even a fucking heartbeat.
I try to convince myself that I’m there—on the surface, with him, that none of this is real—to push myself to come, but I can’t. I just can’t. Ineedto feel him. His wrath. His cruelty. His overwhelmingneedfor me.
I cry, so much snot coming out of my nose that I can barely breathe. I shouldn’t be crying; I’m losing oxygen faster, but I can’t calm down.
He shouts, his voice dulled by the wood, but I’m alone. Lost. Discarded at the bottom of a trash can. Little segments of broken bone swept into a loose bin. A granddaughter who will never be what her grandmother wants. A child who wasn’t good enough to stay.
A willing victim who wasn’t tempting enough to fuck until she died.
The rain of dirt cracks against the top of the coffin. I reach underneath my panties, cupping my pussy. Trying so hard to concentrate.
But I can’t.
“I can’t,” I finally cry. “I can’t. Please. Don’t let me die like this. Don’t—” The dirt keeps banging down on the coffin. Beating into it. Burying me. “Please. Fuck me as I die. Don’t do this to me. Not here. I need you. Your cock.”
The overwhelming patheticness of my own voice fills me with shame, but everything I say is true. Even if it’s sadistic, even if it’s malevolent and degrading, IneedBlaze’s attention. His utter and complete rapture. To be possessed by him. A connection so intense that itwillkill me. In the end, he’ll come too. Just as hard.
Dying in this coffin isn’t that.
The sobs take hold of me, my cries vibrate the box. The deep groan of the hammer’s claw digs at the nails. I squeeze my eyes shut.
He’s not going to leave me here.
The coffin lid lifts, dirt sliding down into the box around me. Cold air brushes my sweating body, and Blaze tosses the lid to the side of the grave. My body takes over; I kick my legs, so eager to do something. I suck in air, gasping for it. Desperate. Blaze leans down and I punch at him—not because I want to hurt him, but because my body is reacting. Rejoicing at the fact that I can do anything at all.
