Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

TAVISH

I come to on my belly. Naked.

Pain is the first thing to greet me.

It's everywhere. Everything hurts.

My asshole.

Butt cheeks.

Face.

Throat.

My mouth.

All four limbs.

As the world continues coming back to me, and the pain recedes a little, I try to roll over and I realize that whatever Samuel and she fucked me with is still inside me. I reach down with one hand, grasping the end of the thing, and ease it out of my body, gasping as a bulbous item pops free.

"That's not what he used," I whisper, dropping it on the bed.

My eyes widen, then slam shut as my lips curl into my mouth, and I bite down on them. My body turns from sore to juiced up as if my veins have been shot full of electricity. I lie still and quiet, holding my breath. If Samuel is in the bathroom and hears me, I'm in for it. After a few moments, my eyes drift back open and the held breath leaks out slowly, making no noise.

Even after realizing I'm alone, I'm still trying not to freak. I push all the thoughts and questions about what could have happened to me away. There'll be plenty of time for that later. Glancing around for a clock, I come up empty, and with the curtains in the room closed, I can't tell how long I've been here. Or how long I've been out of it, but I know it's been a while because my body spasmed and clenched down once the plug was completely out of me.

I take a breath, a gasp, really, as the breath pulls at all the muscles that feel overused and battered. Moving my hands up my body, they feel wet and sticky and they drag against my skin. My whole body feels the same way. I hold my hands in front of me. I can see a red tinge on the one I used to remove the dildo. Looking over at the thing I pulled from my ass, it's a glass butt plug, and it also has traces of blood on it.

Swallowing, I slide to the edge of the bed and slowly make my way to my feet.

My knees wobble as I stand, turning to look back at the bed. There's blood. Sucking in a deep breath, I push away it all away. I push away the panic, the what the fuck happened, and the how long was I out and focus on what's in front of me.

A glance down my body calms me because there's no blood on my thighs, which means it's a minor tear that'll heal on its own, most likely.

I hope.

Using the furniture in the room as a crutch, I make my way toward the shower. I should probably try to figure out where we are and if there's a way to contact Draven, but I need a shower. I can smell them on me, and I have to get the smell off before it makes me lose my shit.

Opening the door to the bathroom, I'm blinded by the sun glistening off the marble tiles covering the walls, ceiling, and floor. The tub beckons me, but I don't want to get in a bath until I've showered. As good as I know it will feel to my battered body, soaking in a pool of their fluids makes me want to vomit more than I already do.

I flip on the water, but I don't even wait for it to heat before I step in. By the time it's warm, I'm finishing the second scrub down when the water finally moves from frigid to warm. After a third pass, I tilt my head back, letting water wash over my body. Even though the mirror catches my reflection through the glass shower door, I refuse to let my gaze linger.

It's not as if I need to see what I look like in the mirror to know what was done to me. I have the marks to prove it. Bite marks, scratches, gouges, and bruises litter my skin.

Once the spasming in my ass subsided, I checked that out as well, just like Daddy did when he used me roughly. There were definitely some stingy ouchy spots, but it wasn't as bad as I feared. I'd been afraid that when I stepped under the water, the floor would be painted red, but it had only turned a tiny bit pink.

The water turns cool, so I shut it off and step out onto the mat. As much as I try to avoid the mirror, my eyes drift up, and there I am in all my naked, used and abused glory.

My lips are puffy and swollen. Both of them are cracked open from where Samuel hit me, busting my mouth. Then she chewed at them, popping the splits back open. Both eyes are black, one more so than the other. There's also a red mark with a cut through it high on one cheekbone.

Sighing, my eyes trail down my body, cataloging bruises, scrapes, scratches, cuts and bites. The marks are so much worse than what the pain led me to believe. Maybe I'm just broken. I know I'm a bit of a pain slut, but I think my brain turned off the worst of it.

The marks are bad, not only because they mean I'm back where I fought so hard to escape, but because Samuel gets pissed when I'm not pretty enough. Irony is lost on the man. One would think if he wanted a pretty whore, he wouldn't beat me.

All I know is that when he sees me, he's going to take it out on me. He'll knock me around several times, then he'll rape me. If I'm lucky, that will be all he does. I hope to never again be in the position I was in last night.

I still don't know who the fuck the woman is. I just hope it was a one off.

You can hope all you want.

Turning away from the mirror, I wrap a towel around my waist and move toward the window. I can hear people outside. I peek through the crack in the shades, and I suck air in so quick and harsh that the sound echoes through the room. I can't believe it.

It looks like we're docking.

I keep watching. The minutes tick by slowly, but we don't venture any closer to the shore. Instead, a smaller boat, much nicer than the one we were on last night, comes toward us.

Fuck.

With tears in my eyes, I turn away and move to the sink, hoping to find some mouthwash or a toothbrush. After rummaging through all the drawers and cabinets, I grab a washcloth, dampening it so I can clean my teeth. I've already washed my mouth out with soap.

Don't remind us.

It's been so long since I talked to myself like I that, and it wigs me out. I don't want to go back to that life. To the person I was then.

There was no laughter. No fun. No Daddy.

All that's gone. Accept it.

Tears gather, but I use the washcloth to wipe them away. They'll do no good. There's no comfort in crying. Tears just leave your eyes dry and gritty, burning for days. The salt won't feel good in the cuts and abrasions, either.

I swallow back the emotion and walk out of the bathroom into the bedroom. Emotions have no place in this place or in my new old life. It's better those get left with behind with Daddy and all the good things he made sure I experienced.