Untrusting and poised to use my free hand against him if it’s a gameplay. I have known so many forms of mental torture and this could be one of them. ‘’Consider this a warning.’’ He doesn’t sound as self-assured as he normally does and he can’t look me in the eye either. Avoiding my face altogether, even when he gets close enough to unbuckle my waist from the large belt around it. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I hold my breath in the hope that he’s changed his mind and he’s letting me go. Afraid to take this at face value and keep holding still, willing for my heart to stop pounding through my chest.
Alexi starts setting my ankles free before my other wrist and frees me faster than he strung me up. There’s nothing in his manner that suggests anything amiss, but I can feel it all around him. The weird vibe and the complete lack of hostility as though it’s evaporated.
I slump down when I am finally free and end up in a heap on the floor, my body unable to hold my weight with the way I’ve completely lost the use of my limbs and turned into a shaking mess. Alexi doesn’t attempt to catch me either, not that I expected he would. Letting out a sob as I curl up into a defensive childish ball and turn my eyes to the ground in complete humility. Ashamed of myself and my lack of strength when faced with a simple punishment that other women would take in their stride.
I’m pathetic and fragile when it comes to this one thing and once again I showed him how effective it is. His feet turn at my eye level, and he starts to walk away after a moment, much to my relief. He leaves me here crying and shaking, unable to get up but it’s what I would rather have than be back on that cross.
He gets a few steps and then stops. My heart stops too. I stop crying and hold still, afraid he maybe hasn’t finished with me yet, and recoil against the wooden stand when he walks back towards me, cowering under the shadow he casts and lift my hand defensively to my face. A pose of old, a pose of my childhood, no matter how hard you try to kill instinctual reactions, they stay with you for a lifetime and come out to just humiliate you further. I’m shielding myself for an inevitable beating, against all sense telling me that Alexi doesn’t hit women.
his arms for a more secure hold, cradling me against him. I don’t know what to think and am too scared to try. He could just be moving me somewhere else
if this seems like he’s found an ounce of decency. He says nothing, doesn’t look at me, just walks us out of the room and into the bar which is still desolate and then heads to the hall and the lift
my arm for a moment until he sees I’m stable enough to stand and steps away as though sensing I need space and him not to touch me anymore. It’s the weirdest scenario ever, considering he’s the one who just traumatised me this
see my safety retreat in sight as long as he stays out here. I turn slightly
of me that he will turn and drag my arse straight back to that room if I deny him anything he wants right now. I hesitate, swallowing hard and shake my head at him, trying hard
dream and emotionally exhausted. ‘‘No,’’ I admit emptily. I’m shell-shocked and metaphorically naked right now. I have no energy to lie when it’s obvious to him that my fear was not for the unknown. I’m giving him more ammunition, but I am beyond caring. I feel stripped and broken and just need the solitude of my room. If obediently
and darkening them too. I don’t know why that makes him mad, seeing as he had no intention of what he
I was a girl who got creative in making money and sold other girls for sex, but I have never told him I was sold a million times before that. He doesn’t know about the before in great detail only hints of the truth. I am no fool and I assume he knows I have been a hooker at some point. I mean
between us, praying he stays out there and lets me find solitude alone upstairs. I don’t trust this ‘‘nicey, nicey’’ act and I’m waiting on him to snap and revert right back into cruel. I feel ravaged and emotional and I know that breaking down in front of him