*This story features consensual non-consent
“Wake up, slut.”
I gasped in panic, and my eyes flew open. For a moment, I was discombobulated, having no idea where I was or what was happening. Then a sensation like being thrown into a freezing cold, bottomless lake pulled me under, and I remembered.
He was there, in my face, close enough to feel his warm breath.
He slapped me hard across my cheek. I cried out, the pain never ending. It was everywhere.
“So you passed out. I didn’t stop.” He’d dumped me on the bed at some point, and he pulled me up on my knees. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you orgasmed at the end earlier…”
I was mortified, but fuck him. He’d manipulated me, rubbed my clit, stroked my insides… I hated him with every fiber of my being. I couldn’t help how my body reacted.
He pushed my head down into the mattress, and this time, there was only resignation. The fear was gone. I hurt and cried, but I was no longer terrified.
“P-please stop,” I croaked.
His hands groped my bottom and spread the cheeks. I choked as one, then two fingers forced their way inside my sore pussy. He finger fucked me hard, rubbing my g-spot.
When he pulled them out, all I could think was how much I wanted them back inside me, as deep as they could possibly go.
My face burned, and humiliation washed over me.
Then he shoved his fingers even harder than the first time, and I saw stars; not just stars, mad constellations. I arched my back and panted like a bitch in heat as I felt myself again propelled toward that point of no return.
I was losing my mind. How could I hate and desire the same thing?
His hand pressed my head into the soft mattress, squashing my mouth and nose into the comforter. Dread tore through me again as I fought futilely to get my breath, and, caught off guard, I came again. Then he released me, and I popped back to the surface, gasping.
I lay there, panting, the horrors that slavered just a few feet away, never far from my mind. He pushed his fingers into my mouth and forced me to lick them clean. His hard cock nudged my thigh, and then he entered me from behind, all the way inside in one swift motion.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, and I knew he was close to finishing. He gave a final push, holding my hips still as he emptied himself inside me. “Fuck. That’s it…”
He pulled out and flopped onto his back, and soon I heard heavy, steady breathing.
I sat up and hugged my knees and watched the sunset. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen one. All was perfectly still and silent.
I listened for voices, sirens, scoured the sky for planes, helicopters, any sign of rescue. I stared until my eyes hurt. I felt wetness between my legs. I moved to the edge of the bed and wiped myself with the blanket.
A hand clamped onto my leg. “You should leave that in there so you’ll be lubed up for the next round.”
I spat at him. It landed on his cheek, and I watched as he raised his fingers to his face and wiped the saliva away slowly. Then he looked up, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me off the bed and over to the dresser that stood in front of the bedroom door. Holding me firmly around the waist, he positioned his cock at the entrance to my ass.
Unmoved, he pushed. I had never been taken in that way before and I panted, deep breaths in, out, eyes squeezed shut as he fucked me savagely, my hips banging against the edge of the dresser. Then he suddenly pulled out, and I fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“Open your mouth, bitch.”
His fist in my hair, Jon slid his hard cock between my lips, barely allowing me a second to catch my breath before fucking my face hard and fast. I gagged and choked, tears and saliva flying everywhere. Then, without warning, he withdrew.
“You better not try that again. Remember who’s in charge here.”
I looked up at him with wide eyes, and then my heart lurched as the sound of wood splintering downstairs reached our ears. Oak wood. From the front door. The heavy oak door that he had said would hold…
I scrambled to my feet. “We have to get out of here!” I opened the window and looked down to the concrete patio below. It was too far to jump. I looked at the bed. Maybe we could knot the sheets together and climb down.
“No, we don’t,” Jon said quietly.
I stared at him, not understanding.
“This dresser is heavy, and the door will hold for a while.” He leveled me with a grave look. “This is our last day, Rose. Remember that.”
We both jumped as the front door below us broke in and the sound of bodies clumsily crashing through reached our ears.
“Get on the bed,” he demanded.
I complied, my eyes not leaving his, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. I spread my legs. He approached me with the folded belt in his hand. He raised it, and I held my breath. He brought it down on my stomach, and I shrieked. The pain was all-consuming, and I forgot about the world ending.
Again and again, he raised and brought it down on my breasts, thighs, and with a blow that nearly took my breath away, my exposed pussy. After a while, all I could do was lie there gasping. But for the first time, my mind cleared of the terrible, crushing sadness that had pervaded since the death of my sister.
Out of breath himself, Jon stopped, and the belt dropped to the floor. Through eyes hazy with tears, I saw him begin to stroke his very stiff cock, and I knew the emptiness inside me would soon be filled.
Fingernails scraped on wood just outside the door. He didn’t look around. He climbed onto the bed and, still stroking himself, took his other hand and slid two fingers inside my pussy. As his fingers worked incessantly, the orgasm clawed its way out, and he held me while I cried out, my body shaking and tears pouring down my cheeks.
He put his hand around my throat and looked into my eyes as he slowly pushed inside me. My pussy was sore and swollen, so he felt twice as thick. He hooked my knees under his elbows and started fucking me brutally.
The bedroom door creaked.
The dresser rattled.
Finally worn out, we lay next to each other on the bed in the fading light of the last day. I tried not to listen to the sounds just outside. I could have gone to any house, but I chose this one. I didn’t know that a monster would answer the door.
My hand crept along the comforter until it found his.
Erotica/smut writer and submissive pet, Jenna dabbled in kink over the years but didn’t fully embrace it until her submissive desires were awakened more recently. She enjoys every letter in the BDSM acronym. When not being a good, obedient pet she enjoys hiking the beautiful trails around LA and painting. You can purchase the full collection of short stories The Monster Within to which Jenna is a contributing author.