Chapter Seventeen

Diana

EVENTUALLY I MUST have fallen back asleep in Thomas' room, but now that I am awake, I see he moved me back down into the basement again, and changed me into a nightgown. I hadn't bought more when I was out, so it looks like the same simple white style.

But there is one difference.

The ankle chain isn't attached.

Before I can even ponder the implications of this, there is a sharp rap on the door and it opens. Thomas enters, carrying a breakfast tray.

"Good morning," he says, and I return the greeting.

Do I ask about the ankle bracelet or no?

He sets the tray down and walks to the cabinet, unlocking my books. "Eat well and relax today. In the evening, your cleansing will commence."

"Cleansing?"

He glances at me. "Yes. After all you disclosed to me yesterday evening, after seeing your genuine fear, I realized your soul was not tainted; it was your body they broke and stained with wickedness. And I will purge that from within you."

With that, he leaves, and a chill permeates my body.

What the Hell is he going to do to me now?

About two hours after dinner, my door opens again and Thomas enters, carrying a small cloth sack. Metal jingles from inside. He also has a chair he places at the foot of my bed.

I look up from my book, unsure of what might happen now and afraid to speak. I was getting used to his punishments. Now, it's back to square one.

"Diana, stand up and put your book down, please," he says. His voice is softly commanding, not stern but you know he can be if you give him a reason.

I do as he asks, more curious than anything.

"Strip."

A wave of nausea hits me at the single syllable and I can't believe this, but I should have expected it. Now that he knows the truth, he's going to treat me just like every other man in my life has, except Dad when he was alive.

This isn't the same as when he beat my breasts or ass. There's something different about him now, and I hate this.

"Don't panic," he adds, holding a hand up. "I have no intention of forcing myself on you. When we finally come together as one, I assure you, it will be when you beg me for it. Not a moment before."

For some unknown reason, I believe him. My hands go to the hem of my nightgown and I come to find I'm nervous for another reason. A reason previously unknown to me.

I've never been fully naked in front of someone who hadn't paid to hurt me except for him. Someone who claimed to … what did Thomas claim? That he wanted me? Liked me? He never said, just that God chose me for him. Still, this is a brand new situation, and my weight being healthy is also new to me compared to the last time.

"Your eyes speak more than your lips ever have," Thomas comments. "You will not come to harm when you are in my hands, and you have nothing to fear over your body. I find everything about you — from your face to your hair to your body and your soul — undeniably beautiful."

Taking one more breath, I nearly tear the gown off of me, wanting to get this moment over with before I hesitate again. Then the same with my panties.

"Get on the bed, on your back," he then commands.

"Why?" It's out before I can stop it and I know he's getting frustrated.

His lips purse, eyebrows drawn, and if I wasn't in the situation I am, I'd think his pout that is supposed to be angry is actually … cute.

"Little dove, you know better."

I nod. "I do. I'm sorry."

He steps close, arm's length away, and I can barely breathe, but all he does is reach out and brush my jaw with the back of his hand. "You learn quickly. And now that I know your past, your weakness, soon this will no longer be unpleasant for either of us. Now, be good and get on the bed."

Nodding once more, I do as he asks. The sooner this is over with, the better.

As I do, he goes to the cloth sack and removes four sets of manacles. So this was why the anklet was removed. Stupid of me to have assumed it was because I won some modicum of trust.

I close my eyes, willing frustrated tears not to come. I made progress, and thanks to that disgusting bastard, it has all been erased it seems.

Thomas chains my ankles to the foot of the bed first, then comes on either side of me to do the same with my wrists. There's enough give to not cut off circulation, but I can't pull them more than an inch, and that's a stretch.

"Answer me this," he says, walking around the bed while I lay there, naked and restrained, as if this is a normal Sunday afternoon. "You said you begged your stepfather to not rape you that first time. Did you ever fight? Him, or any of the others? Something you said before makes me think you did."

Swallowing hard, I nod. "Once. Only once. The first time he ever pimped me out. It was to my school principal."

Thomas' lips quirk. "Tell me."

I close my eyes, remembering the adrenaline and fear racing through me. The hate. The desire for revenge.

"The first thing I did when he put his disgusting, wrinkled cock in my mouth was bite down. Hard. Blood squirted into my mouth, and he screamed. I kept gnawing at it; when he pulled me off him, the head was partially detached."

I try to stop it, but I smile.

"He hit me, but the adrenaline was still strong. I clawed at him, made him bleed more. Tore away his lower eyelid on one side. Gouged marks in his saggy cheeks. His blood was in my teeth. Under my nails."

My heart races as it always does when I recall this memory. The only good one I've ever had since I was twelve.

"Did you like it?" His voice is low, raspy. Sexy, if this was a different situation.

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I'm turned on like crazy right now.

"And if I did?" I challenge.

His grin widens. "Then I know God sent me the perfect bride. Do you know what it feels like to kill the wicked, Diana?"

I shake my head.

"To balance their lives on my bloodied dagger, to hold their fate in the palm of my hand, to listen to them turn from rapists, killers, beasts, into terrified little plebeians begging for a second chance. They never gave their victims a second chance. Yet they dare to ask a messenger of God Himself to spare their worthless lives.

"When I look into their eyes as I land the final blow, it is the most euphoric feeling. The blood that rushes from them, hot and corrosive. The light that leaves their eyes. It's beautiful." His eyes sparkle like gems, and his chest moves as he breathes.

I realize I'm breathing just as hard.

"Do you want to know what that feels like one day? To bring down the wrath of the Lord on the worst of sinners? To the people who hurt you and stained your soul and made me do the things I have to you?"

I nod, afraid to speak.

He caresses my cheek, letting his fingers trail down my neck, stopping before he reaches my chest. "Then be good."

Walking to the foot of the bed, he leans down and this time his smile reminds me of the demon I saw peeking out when he gave me Rick's bloody ID.

And for the first time, he touches me.

A rough finger slides through my wetness, a ghost of a touch, but enough of one to set my nerve endings on fire, and not in a scared way.

I am restrained in a basement with a crazy future cult leader and I am more turned on than I ever imagined someone as damaged as me could be.

What's wrong with me?

His eyes remain on mine as he looks at his now glistening finger and puts it in his mouth, sucking my juices off of his skin. A noise escapes my throat; one I never heard come from me before. Of course, it's so quiet down here, he hears it too.

"You taste so sweet, my scared dove. And soon you will be all mine. After I cleanse you from the inside out."

Why has my mind now gone to the idea he's going to like … powerwash me?

He reaches into the sack from which he took the restraints and pulls out a black … something. It's small, maybe the length of a video game console but higher. It has an attachment part at the front, and has an electrical power cord. Thomas plugs it in and reaches back into the bag, pondering. Finally he pulls out a cardboard box and removes … a plastic purple penis.

In some of the books I found and quickly discarded, the female leads often used dildos on themselves. Having cocks forced on me and then forcing them on myself, that did not interest me.

He said he wouldn't touch me; he never said nothing would touch me.

Oh, please let this be a nightmare, I think as he attaches the dildo to the box.

"I also brought lubricant down with me; it seems I won't be needing it," he comments, sounding smug.

Yeah, I am definitely still turned on. Bastard. Have I always been this sick and twisted, or has he beaten that into me?

"You've had far too many men forced on you. Forced inside you. For six years, if my count is correct." He glances at me and I nod. "This — this cold piece of silicone — will symbolically erase them all. Quite literally rearrange your insides, so that only I will be the one to penetrate you in your new life.

"You are unclean, but not by your own doing. Punishment was futile. Cleansing is the only viable option." He presses a button on a remote he produces from the bag and checks that the machine works. He turns it off and moves it, positioning it at my entrance.

I'm not scared. He isn't doing this for his pleasure. But I still don't want that painful, first-thrust feeling. It has always hurt, even when the men were small.

"Look at me, little sinner. Don't close your eyes."

I look up, watching him.

He turns his eyes to mine as he slips the currently still dildo inside me. I wince, but … there's no pain. It's never not hurt before.

You've never been turned on or wet before, idiot, my conscience tells me.

"It's not supposed to hurt, Diana. Unless, of course, you want it to," Thomas informs me with a smile as he sits down, facing me, remote in hand. He sits back, as if he is preparing to watch his favorite TV show, and clicks a button on the remote.

It starts to move, in and out, slowly. Gentler than I ever had anyone inside me before. My panicked heart slows, but it doesn't still . No, my body now wants something my brain can't comprehend yet. And my steady, strong heartbeat belies that.

"How does it feel?" Thomas asks after about five minutes.

"Strange," I admit. "Slow."

He makes a noise between a scoff and a chuckle. " Slow ? My dear girl…" He shakes his head and mutters, "I suppose I have to give her what she wants," before pressing the button on the remote again, and the dildo speeds up.

Not bruising fast, but faster than it was, and a little uncomfortable, so I decide to risk it and move a little.

Big mistake.

I have absolutely no idea what the Hell it is touching, but every single nerve ending in my body is vibrating like they're ready to take flight. A random noise escapes my lips and Thomas laughs out loud.

"I'm sorry; all those men, by choice or not, not a single one ever hit your pleasure center, I see," he says.

That's what this is? Now I understand why girls in books and movies talk about sex so much, if it's supposed to feel like this.

"I wonder…"

He trails off and hits what looks like a different button and my eyes roll back in my head as the thrusting of the machine goes deeper, just a little harder.

Unable to control my body — unsure if I even want to — I cry out as what I realize is my first orgasm ever hits me. Stars form behind my eyes, constellations unlike anything in the sky. My body shakes and spasms, then the machine slows, but doesn't stop.

"Good girl," Thomas practically coos. "How did that feel?"

I don't know how to answer.

"Seems to me you enjoyed it," he continues. "I'm unsure of how much biology you know, but it is a common fact that women can be made to orgasm near countless times in a short span. I believe the last time I ever tested that theory, she passed out around number eleven."

Something in my gut twists when he mentions a past lover. Was she like me? Did she fail and die? Or was she from before he came to the community?

Oh my Lord, why do I even care?

"The more you cum on something without a soul, without intent, the more you will be cleansed," he explains. "You will break tonight, and it will be glorious."

If this is how one orgasm makes me feel, this time, I believe him. His goal since he saw me was to break me.

Now he knows how.

He can't break me with pain, but with pleasure.

Remote clicks, the dildo moves faster than it did before, deeper. I try to adjust, to not make it hit that spot again, but … I want it to.

For the first time, I want that feeling, that brief, euphoric respite.

"Don't move from that position," Thomas commands. "I prefer to wait until after the marriage is consummated to teach you how good it feels to be flogged while penetrated, but do not tempt me."

I would have expected it would take me longer to cum again, but it happens quickly, and I can't stop myself from moaning. After years of fake ones, I am almost embarrassed at how needy and high-pitched I sound.

Thomas watches me, unblinking, as he clicks the remote again, and the dildo keeps plunging but also begins to vibrate.

On the heels of my second orgasm, a third comes without notice and my cries are more ragged now. I grip the thin sheet under me in my hands hard. He said his ex had eleven? I won't handle any more than this; he has to realize that.

"Good girl." He stands and removes the dildo with a slick, wet pop that sounds obscene even to me. He's careful not to touch me.

I sag in relief, letting the sheet go.

"You're still a bit too relaxed, considering I am not nearly done with you," he says, and my closed eyes fly open. His face is expressionless as he goes to the bag and gets out another dildo, this one pink, with something weird attached to it.

"I have to touch you a bit to settle this. Hold still."

The fact he's warning me…

How can he be crazy and kind?

He winds up barely brushing against what a book told me is called the "clit" (sounds like shorthand for a college class; "what grade did you get in clit?") with his thumb and my body feels like it's singing with that slight touch.

But his hand is gone, replaced by the little thing attached to the dildo. It presses right against my clit and the pressure feels like something is sitting in my lower stomach. I can't explain it, but I like it.

"The fact you haven't yet been properly pleasured… When we are wed, you will understand why people claim they see God when they orgasm," Thomas promises.

He sits back down and clicks two buttons. The dildo begins to vibrate and somehow pulse at the same time. It's nestled against that spot that made me see stars inside, but it's the piece on my clit that sends me immediately into orbit as a fourth orgasm hits me.

Another click, and now the dildo thrusts as I still spasm, sending another orgasm floating through me. Wetness spills out of me, slicking my thighs and soaking the sheet under me.

Did … I pee? It doesn't feel like that but… Hell, my mind can barely think a coherent thought. I'm dizzy, heady with endorphins. And now it's beginning to hurt. I've had a lot of men in me, more than ten in a day, but I never exerted myself like this.

Thomas changes the pulsations and I whine.

"Something the matter, little sinner?" he asks.

I manage to look at him again, sitting there with a clear bulge in his pants, once again with a look on his face like he's a lion and I'm a bleeding gazelle. This man would and will devour me if I let him.

"Too much," I whine.

"Oh, no, my dear fiancée. It's not too much yet."

He increases the speed of the pulses and I can't keep quiet as the time passes. I can't count how long it is, or how many orgasms are forced out of my spent body.

I was silent for various beatings and whippings. But this? It's too much . Didn't health class once say certain emotions get unleashed during post-orgasm?

I feel it. I feel everything, each time Thomas forces me to come. Everything I repressed, everything I endured, every unspoken prayer and every wish for death. They all come bursting out of me alongside my orgasms and I can't handle it all.

This unleashed all my demons at once, every hidden emotion, and I can't take it as I cry and scream and curse. Especially my fear. My fear that Mike will find me again. That even Thomas and this whole cult can't protect me.

It all flows out of me until I am incoherent, desperate, an utter, true, broken mess on the mattress.

He did it.

Thomas promised me he'd break me, and I think he finally did.