Page 44 of Dance with Death

No, no, no, no, no.

I know I can’t saynoto him for fear of how he’ll hurt me if I do, but I can’t do what he’s asking me to do.

I won’t do it.

Iwon’t.

My head shakes back and forth, urgent in my protest, as he comes up behind me. He slips down to his knees, scoots in close, molding his body to my backside. My fingers squeeze around the bunny, drawing into tight fists through my agitation.

Vigo reaches around me, his hands clamping down on my wrists where I grasp the toy in my clenched fists. He pushes down, trying to force my hands and the bunny between my legs.

For the first time in a long time, I refuse. I absolutely, unwaveringly refuse to obey this order.

“No!” I shout, opening my fingers in hopes of dropping it.

But his hands slide quickly over mine, lacing our fingers together, forcing me to grab hold of the stuffed toy as he shoves. I clamp my thighs together so he has nowhere to go but my lap. Vigo is so much stronger than me, though… forceful. He wiggles the toy as he presses, somehow managing to wedge the damn thing between my clamped thighs. He’s got just enough of an opening to thrust it down hard between my legs.

I spread my knees apart, hoping he’ll let go and it will fall, giving me a chance to toss it away.

But he doesn’t let go.

He grips my fingers tighter, digging our hands into the bunny as he takes advantage of my spread knees, forcing it harshly against my naked sex. I lean backward, trying to get away from it, but his body is rigid, unyielding at my back. With my fingers still locked with his, he rubs the toy harshly against me.

“That’s it. Fuck it, Anya.Fuck that bunny you love so much. Show Daddy how much you love it.”

“Stop!”

My movements are frantic. I push my hands down harder, trying to break from his grip. I lean my body back, pushing against his.

I want this to stop, I want this plush, velvety symbol of innocent childhood far away from my sex. It’s such a depraved thing he’s forcing me to do, and it’s all the more heinous that my stupid body could possibly have any response to any touch that doesn’t belong to Ezra.

But it fucking does…and I couldn’t be more ashamed.

My ass is held against his crotch as he holds me tighter against him, as I try to slip backward away from the bunny. He uses that to his advantage, and he begins to rock. He rocks our hips together, rolling them slowly forward and back, all the while holding the toy between my legs.

And no matter how much I hate it, no matter how I try to fight this—to keep my body from responding and my mind safe from this nightmare—my body responds traitorously.

Wetness rushes to my core and my clit swells as his forceful rubbing turns to gentle rocking on the toy jammed between my thighs.

“Please, stop,” I beg, though my voice loses its strength, it’s determination, as he draws unwanted pleasure.

“Stop? Which part do you want me to stop? The way I’m moving you?” His lips fall to the side of my neck, beneath one of my pigtails. “Or the way I’m pleasing you? TellPapàwhat you want.”

“I…I want you to stop. All of it.”

Weak.

I’m fucking weak.

My voice, my willpower, my sexual need.

I’m weak with all those things and I’ve never felt so deeply, brokenly ashamed of myself.

Except, Ihavefelt this deeply, brokenly ashamed before. It was when Ezra had first arrived at Mikhailov Manor. When Nikolai fingered me in front of him, told me to come, but stopped before I could, just to humiliate me and leave me wanting. I’d felt shame then for the way my body responded to Nikolai’s touch, for the way I tried so hard to get there, to come, to find my release simply because he’d wanted me to.

But Ezra had been turned on by the show of it, too. He’d always been turned on by the way Nikolai used me simply because our bodies are human, and they don’t always react in the way we want them to.

I’m fed up with this nightmare, with letting other men control what my body does and doesn’t do. I’m tired of responding because they make me respond. But if my body is going to take over anyway, if my body is going to let me feel pleasure from this sickness, then maybe I should just let it. Maybe if I let it, I’ll take some of my power back.

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