Page 26 of Cruel Beginnings

After what feels like forever, he finally pulls my hands away.

“On your knees,” he tells me.

I obey instantly.Choose your battles.I don’t want to be dragged back to the playroom or abandoned in the cell again.

He grabs my hair and tips my head back. “You’re going to take me in your mouth. If I feel even the slightest attempt to bite me, I’ll whip your tits off. Also, I like to be deep-throated. You’re going to learn to relax your throat and let me slide all the way in. It may be hard for you to breathe that way. Too bad. You’d do well to start practicing breath control. Build up how long you can go without breathing.”

I quail in terror at that, but I don’t fight him when he slides a finger into my mouth and forces my lower lip down.

His fingers tangle in my hair, and then his cock slides in, and I taste the salty precum. The head of his cock hits the back of my mouth, and I gag and jerk my head a little, but he holds me firmly in place. I suck in air through my nose, struggling not to panic. I have to force myself to let him slide it down even further.

Desperate to do this quickly so I can breathe through my mouth again, I reach up and grasp the thick base of his cock and move my hand in rhythm as he brutally fucks my mouth. I gulp sips of air in between thrusts and struggle to let his cock go further and further down my throat so he won’t have a reason to hurt me again.

Finally, it’s all the way in.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe…

It takes everything I have not to bite down in panic. His fingers are twisted so tightly in my hair that I can’t move.

He pulls out halfway, then resumes pumping his cock in and out.

Soon he’s groaning in pleasure. I pray for him to come fast, but he keeps pausing, drawing it out. He pulls himself out of my mouth completely for a few seconds, and I gulp for air, then he slides back in and I gag and struggle. His fingers tighten, and he forces himself back down my throat. The rhythm resumes.

Air. Air. Please. Not enough air through the nostrils. I need to breathe.

“Very nice, Tamara. Oh, that’s good. Good girl. Keep sucking, baby…”

Right this minute, he’s happy with me. He won’t hurt me if he’s happy. I force myself to relax. I’m finally able to do something to his body, rather than the other way around. I control what he’s feeling right now.

When he finally comes, spilling warm, salty semen down my throat, I feel a shocking, fierce joy.I did that. He came for me. He slides slowly out of my mouth, stroking my hair with his fingers. I gulp in air, my shoulders shaking. I want to drag this moment out forever. No pain. No fear. Just the warmth of his approval and the soft caress of his hands.

He fetches me a soft, cream-colored pair of yoga pants, a sports bra, and a T-shirt, and they don’t hurt too badly when I slide them over my bruised flesh.

Then he gets pain-killers out of a locked cabinet that he opens by using his thumbprint. He gives me a cup of water so I can wash them down.

“Thank you, Master,” I say, forcing the words out.

He doesn’t reply. He just takes my hand in his and leads me out of the bathroom and down the hall into the dining room, his big hand still folded around mine the whole way, as if he’s my boyfriend and he just can’t get enough of me. When we reach the table, I sink down into my seat with a whimper of pain. The bruises still hurt every time I put pressure on them.

He’s sending me a very clear message. Disobey, and the consequences will be agonizing. Obey, and there may still be pain, but much less of it, and there will also be exquisite pleasure.

I don’t care. I’m still free, even if it’s just inside my mind. He can tell me whatever he wants, but I’ll twist it around and use it for my own purposes. Pretend to do what he wants for now, until the time comes when I can strike out for freedom. Or die trying.

CHAPTERNINE

TAMARA

“Eat,” he orders me. “Drink.” So I pour myself coffee and load up my plate with fluffy eggs and thick strips of bacon. My stomach growls, and I shrink in on myself with embarrassment. The food is delicious, and I shovel in big bites to fill my hollowed-out belly.

I glance up at him, about to ask him to please pass the milk for the coffee, but he shakes his head.

“You are not equal to me. The only rights you have are the ones that I grant you. You speak when spoken to,” he says coolly. “And you acknowledge when I give you an order, with aYes, Master. Unless you fancy another session with the cane.”

“Yes, Master.” I look down at my plate.Fuck yourself up the ass with a ski pole, Joshua Smith.Thinking that in my head almost makes me smile, but I keep my lips pressed firmly together. This is a secret just for me. He’s controlling everything else. What I wear, where I sleep, when I eat and drink, how I’m allowed to speak. I can’t even bathe myself. At least my mind is still my own.

As I start to get full, I eat more slowly, drawing it out because whatever he’s planned for me next, I’m sure I won’t like it.

He finishes before me and says, “Stand up.”

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