Page 9 of Heartless Beloved

I gulp and shift on the bed. “No,” I attempt.

He pulls out the phone again and gives it to one of the others. “You’ve been tempting me with your slutty nightie. That mixture of innocence and sex is truly fucking working on me.”

I shake my head violently despite knowing it won’t change anything.

“Your boyfriend is a lucky guy, Elisabeth.”

“Don’t,” I squeak. “Whatever…whatever you’re thinking. It’ll only make things worse for you. Kidnapping is one thing but—”

“You worry about calling out for help. I’ll worry about myself.”

The next second he’s on me. I scream as he straddles my hips, writhing underneath him.

“Those fucking tits,” he rasps as he rips the top of my nightie. “They should be illegal.”

My ample breasts have been the talk of my school for years. I was an early bloomer, and they’re definitely hard to miss. I’m used to people noticing them and loving them. They’re beautiful, and Chester is crazy for them.

But Chester and I never do anything.

What I tell him is that I’m not ready. For nothing more than kissing.

The truth is I know he can’t give me what I need.

I know it in the way he treats me and kisses me. He’s kind and gentle. The perfect boyfriend, the future son-in-law my parents adore. We’re perfect together.

Apart from the fact that I crave darkness and depravation. That I touch myself to sick videos of humiliation. The kind where women are degraded so severely it makes me ashamed to even know these things exist. Things I keep to myself, secrets I would never even tell my closest friends.

So no, my sweet boyfriend has never even touched my boobs before.

This man? He will be the first, and he doesn’t even know it. Why would he? He only cares about using me to get his own pleasure. Only his ultimate goal matters.

“Stop,” I cry out as he grabs my tits and crushes them in each of his hands.

It would seem there is a difference between watching fake videos of women being turned on from being assaulted and experiencing it. My brain can feel that so clearly. It makes me want to scream and fight. It makes me scared.

Completely and utterly terrified.

I pull at my binds, grunting from the pain it creates. “Stop,” I screech as I lose complete control of my reactions.

Twisting doesn’t do anything.

I try to throw him off.

I scream.

But there’s nothing I can do when he undoes his black jeans and pulls out his cock.

“Don’t…” The more I swallow back the tears, the more they choke me. They mix with the dread stuck in my throat, turning me into a squeaking mouse.

The flash to my left brings a new wave of panic. I wheeze as I try to take another breath and freeze when he spits between my boobs.

“I’m going to fuck these tits until they’re bruised. You just stay there and act like the pretty victim you are. I’m sure that’ll kick your dad into action.”

He shuffles closer to my chest, sitting on my stomach and stopping me from breathing. He crushes my tits together with his gloved hands as he pushes his hard dick between them. Forward and back, he keeps going violently. I gasp when his fingers start playing with my nipples. He doesn’t relent, though it does add a new feeling to the mix. He rolls the tips between his fingers, and a sharp exhale escapes me. Our eyes cross. The balaclava hides his face, but I don’t need to see every single one of his features. It’s so clear in his eyes that he knows what he’s doing.

“Elisabeth.” He taunts me as he thrusts between my tits again. The movement shoves me higher on the mattress. “Look at the camera, baby.” He presses harder on my tits and his violence increases. “We want to catch the fact that you’re loving this.”

“I-I’m not,” I groan, but I realize too late that it sounds like I’m moaning.

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