Chapter 16

When I wake the next morning, I feel pretty fucking shitty. I tip-toe downstairs, not wanting to wake Slater, but to my surprise all the curtains are open, and my mom’s favorite blanket is neatly folded and draped over the back of the sofa. The cushions are plumped up like they were never even slept on.

He’s not in the kitchen, but an empty mug is in the dish rack.

I listen carefully, but the house is silent. He’s gone. I can feel it, but I don’t believe it.

I’m oddly disappointed. Despite my anger with him for ditching me and my mom, I’ve missed him. It’d been a weird couple of weeks seeing him pop up here and there, but I can’t deny it’s been nice having him back around. Especially the way he took care of me last night and stayed to make sure I was okay.

I guess he was acting like a real big brother, even if some of the things he said and the way he said them weren’t very brotherly. Or maybe that’s just me. I’m definitely not feeling very sisterly toward him.

Still, it was nice he stayed, even if it would have been nicer to wake up to him here. I know my mom would be over the moon if she came home and found him here for breakfast.

Though maybe it’s for the best he didn’t hang around. It nearly broke Mom’s heart when she and Sean broke up and she – in her words – lost a son. I swear she was more upset by that than Sean’s cheating. If Slater’s only hanging around to fuck with me for a few weeks until he gets bored and moves on to something else, it’s better that he’s not back in my mom’s life because I don’t think she could stand losing him a second time.

I don’t think I could either.

Sighing, I check the time, but it’s too early for my mom to be home, so I doubt he left to purposefully avoid her. Besides, he knows where I live, that my mom was at work last night, so he probably knows her shift patterns too.

The chain on the door is off, but the door is locked. If I had to bet money on it, I’d say the spare key was back under the pot too. I should speak to Mom about moving it. Slater knew where it was, who’s to say who else knows about it.

The thought of someone other than Slater using that key makes me shudder.

Slater was so…protective, fiercely protective, last night. He was adamant that he wouldn’t leave me alone. What changed?

I climb the stairs and waver at the top. Should I go back to bed or shower?

Memories of last night slam into me, making my skin itch.

Shower it is.

I feel dirty. What Victor did was disgusting. I thought for sure he was going to rape me. He would have, I know that now, if the masked man hadn’t saved me.

My savior turned assailant.

If he was at the dance, and the party, and no one else mentioned a masked man…I probably saw his face at some point.

I’ve probably seen his face many times.

I was scared. Terrified. He was terrifying. But not in the same way that Victor was. Victor wanted to hurt me. Not just physically, but mentally. He wanted to rape me, break me. He would have made my first time horrifying. Probably scarred me and put me off doing it again with anybody else.

The more I think about Victor, the angrier I get. The masked man said Victor had photos of other girls from my school. Had he raped my classmates? A girl younger than me? Someone more easily led astray?

I was already so easily fooled. He manipulated me with ease. I’m so embarrassed. If he had raped me, I wouldn’t have said anything. The only reason he didn’t was because someone scarier came along. Someone more dangerous.

The masked man touched me harshly, but it wasn’t the same. Victor was using me for his own pleasure, he didn’t care how he made me feel. But the masked man…his touch was different.

Sure, he didn’t listen when I said no, but he took the time to make me feel good too.

Why? Was that just a power play? A way to make me feel like I had no control? Or did he like giving me pleasure?

When I think about the way my body responded to Victor – clamping up at the wrongness of this touch – and then unfurling for the masked man, it makes me wonder about myself.

Did I like not being given a choice?

Not when Victor tried to take my choice away, no. But with the masked man…maybe? Then Jessy. That fucking slime ball. He was definitely going to drug someone, if not me. He’s no better than Victor in that sense.

Thank fuck, Slater came in like a white knight. A man I once considered my friend turned brother, my bully turned stranger, was overprotective and comforting.

I drop to the floor of my shower, letting the hot water nearly scald me as I force myself not to cry. Last night I was a victim. Victor’s. The masked man’s. Jessy’s.

Today, I’m no one’s toy.

I will never let another man take something from me that I’m not willing to give.

I just know that the masked man will be back. He’ll try to dominate me once more. But I’ll be ready for him.

I spendthe rest of the day in bed, ignoring everyone and everything. Mom ends up pulling double shifts, so I barely see her, and it’s easy enough to convince her in those brief passing moments that I’m simply coming down with something. It’s true enough, I feel cold all the time, and I can’t stop shivering and shaking, but the night is the worst.

I have confusing dreams which keep me tossing and turning all night long. When I wake, it’s sharp and sudden, like emerging from water after holding my breath for too long. I’m panting and sweating and I can never quite tell if it’s from fear or arousal.

Masked men and blurry faces haunt me.

By the time Monday rolls around after the longest night of my life, I’m exhausted and ready to call in sick, but my phone buzzing nonstop refuses to let me rest.

Assuming it’s Lizzy, I snatch up the phone and snap, “What?” The voice on the other end of the line tuts disapprovingly, and I quickly glance at the screen to see who it is. Unknown number.

“H-hello?” I ask, my voice shaking almost as much as my hands suddenly are.

There’s no answer. Just heavy breathing that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Who is this?” I try to demand, but my voice comes out weaker than I’d like. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say ‘Victor’ but I manage to catch myself just in time. What if it’s not him and whoever’s on the line knows who Victor is? I might not want to be with the guy anymore, but I don’t want to get either of us into trouble by accidentally outing our short-lived relationship. If you can even call it a relationship.

The call ends before I can say anything else, but then the phone immediately starts buzzing in my hand again. I don’t want to answer it. Who the fuck is pranking me this early in the morning?

A surge of anger makes me bold, and I hit answer on the call.

“Look, whoever you are, it’s too early in the morning for these fucking games! Leave me alone.”

I’m about to hang up, pleased that I’ve put the mystery caller in their place, when I catch sight of the display.

It’s Slater.

“Cora? Cora?”

Shit.

“Slater? Why are you calling me so early on a Monday morning?” Why are you calling me, period? I assumed you lost my number when you ditched me all those years ago. Why are you suddenly everywhere I turn now?

“Your mom called. Said you were unwell this weekend and asked me to check in on you,” he says, sounding slightly amused. “But we both know that’s bullshit, so get your pathetic ass out of bed, quit feeling sorry for yourself, and get out here.”

“O-out here?”

“I’m waiting in the driveway. You have five minutes to stop sulking and get ready for school. Otherwise, I’m coming in, and I’ll drag you there myself even if you’re still in the shower,” he says, as he disconnects the call.

His words make me shiver despite his warning. I have no doubt he means every word he says, and even though I have no desire whatsoever to be dragged into school naked, my nipples pebble at the threat. If Slater stormed in here, would he even notice if I were naked? Would it stop him? Distract or maybe even tempt him?

These are not thoughts I should be having about my stepbrother.

But I can’t help how my body reacts.

My phone buzzes, and I look down to see a message from Slater.

Slater

I mean it, Cora. Don’t make me come in there. You won’t like what happens next.

Sighing, I decide today is not the day to push him. Instead, I race into the bathroom and have the world’s fastest sponge bath and brush my teeth, then head back to my bedroom to get dressed.

I’m just grabbing my school bag when the impatient blast of a car horn makes me almost trip and fall down the stairs. I race out of the house without my jacket, barefoot, with shoes and satchel in hand.

“You look a mess,” is all Slater says with a fierce scowl when I get into the car beside him.

“Well, sorry, some maniac decided to drag me out of bed with ten-minute notice! Give me fifteen next time, and I’ll come out in a ball gown.”

He huffs at that, but I swear I see the ghost of a smile on his lips, then he’s pulling off, and we spend the rest of the ride in silence. When we pull up to school, he doesn’t let me out at the gates but joins the line into the parking lot.

“What are you doing, Slater? You can just drop me off,” I sigh.

“Making sure you get to school okay.”

“Clearly I am,” I snipe.

“You’re not inside,” he replies.

“Are you going to walk me in? Holding my hand maybe and escort me to homeroom? Or do you plan to toss me over your shoulder and carry me to each of my classes?”

“It can easily be arranged, Cora, don’t get shitty with me.”

“Surely you have somewhere better to be? Or class, at the very least?”

“I’m meeting a friend here, and I thought I’d be nice and give my little sis a ride.” I shiver at the way he calls me his little sister. Is it my imagination, my weekend fantasies bleeding into Monday reality, that hears him put a slight emphasis on the word ride?

“Well, I didn’t ask you to.” I force my tone to be less shitty, as he put it, but my words still come out clipped.

“And again, you’ve still not thanked me,” he retorts, his voice turning hard.

I swallow, even as my nipples pebble against my thin top. Fuck, I need to get my body under control. And my mind.

I sigh. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now–”

“Can I ask you something?” I blurt out, before I can lose my nerve. Something he said this morning on the phone has been bugging me.

“If you’re quick,” he replies with an impatient frown.

“You said my mom called you. How did she know you’re back?”

“I went to college, Cora. It’s not like I left the country.”

“So why haven’t we seen you in years? You broke her heart, Slater.”

“That’s between me and your mother, Cora. It’s none of your business and if she wants you to know, she’ll tell you herself. Now run along and get to class like a good girl. Wouldn’t want to have to punish you for being late now, would we?”

Gulping, I exit his car with my backpack in hand, shutting the passenger door with more force than is necessary.

What did he mean, it was between him and my mom. Were they keeping secrets from me? If so, what? And why does the idea of that make my chest ache?

In an instant I hear Slater’s door open, and I panic that I’ve pushed him a little too far, and he’s going to chase me and make good on that promise, but then I hear him greeting someone.

Looking back behind me, my feet stumble to a halt as I watch him bro hug and back slap a guy I don’t recognize. I’m rooted to the spot, watching their exchange. The stranger isn’t a student, he’s nearer Slater’s age. Maybe even a little older. And he’s dressed way too smart to be a pupil here.

“Mr. Marx, looking good,” Slater laughs. It’s such a lovely sound, so carefree and light. Whenever he talks to me, he sounds like he’s got a stick up his ass.

“Don’t,” his friend groans, punching Slater in the shoulder good naturedly. “Seriously, though, man, thanks for helping me get this gig.”

“No worries. I heard they had a position come up suddenly, and I wanted to help.”

I strain my ears to hear the rest of their conversation, but Slater drops his voice. Is this guy – what did Slater call him, Mr. Marx? – a new teacher at the school? And how did Slater know they needed one? How was he able to help his friend get the job?

“Better run along, Cora, wouldn’t want you to be late,” Slater calls, making me jump.

I scramble away, but I can’t help but wonder which teacher suddenly had to leave the school.

My sinking gut already knows the answer though.

By the time I make it to Mr. Spiro’s class – my last lesson of the day – I already know that he’s gone. Every class I’ve had today has been rife with gossip about the teacher’s sudden departure, and wild with speculation about his attractive new replacement. Half the girls are in love with him already, but I just have a sour taste in my mouth when I see him.

“Welcome, Cora, take a seat,” he says to me with an easy smile.

As I turn to take my seat, the first two rows of girls all glower at me and shoot me evil looks.

“How does he know her name?” one of them mutters.

I head for the back. After Mr. Spiro, I don’t want to be on any teacher’s radar.

Thankfully, he doesn’t call me out again or draw attention to me in any way, and I find myself absorbed in his lesson. I zoned out a lot during Victor’s classes, spent too long wondering if he was thinking of me, but without that worry with Mr. Marx, I can actually pay attention. Maybe I’ll even get my grades up before the end of the year. I’m sure it’s not too late. I work hard, but I’ve not been the best student this year with Victor distracting me.

After school, I head to work at the ice cream shop, and it’s a nice, easy shift. We’re not too busy, but not so dead that the time drags. Lizzy sits at a table and does her homework, and I stop by to talk to her whenever I have a free minute.

She’s desperate to spill the beans about what happened at the party after I left, but I don’t want to hear it. Just thinking of that night makes my stomach churn, so I look for an excuse to slip away.

When I get home, the house is in darkness, and I’m relieved. I just want to take a long, hot bath, if there’s enough hot water, and relax. Today was harder than I expected it to be. With Slater turning up first thing, a new teacher, and Victor being gone, my emotions are all tangled and twisted.

I climb the stairs and go straight into the bathroom, putting in the plug and turning on the hot tap. It takes so long for the water to warm up that we never need to add any cold to the tub anyway. While it runs, I go to my room and drop off my bag.

Stripping out of my clothes and dumping them in the hamper to wash later, I return to the bathroom and light the scented candles my mom keeps in there. Like me, she likes to relax with a bath when she’s stressed, and I got her a cheap candle set for Christmas last year.

They’re almost gone, and I make a mental promise to use the last of Victor’s money to get her some nice replacements. Something fancy – maybe the ones that come in big glass jars with lids. And some nice bubble bath to go with it.

I wait for the tub to fill before switching out the light and sinking beneath the water. It’s only just warm enough, so I know it won’t be a long bath like I planned, but it’s better than nothing. The candles flicker in the breeze from the slightly drafty window frame which needs replacing, casting eerie shadows on the white tiles that have seen better days.

I know it’s a good thing Victor is gone. That I’m safer now. But I still sort of feel sad about it. My head and my heart are at war. My brain is telling me he was a creep, preying on innocent young girls, and who obviously didn’t care for me, because he ran off and left me with an armed masked man in the dark and never even texted to see if I was okay.

My heart wants me to believe it was all some big misunderstanding and that he’ll be back. It’s in denial because it knows the alternative – the crippling loneliness I’m feeling now in this dark, empty house – is unbearable.

No one else ever wanted me, and it was nice to be desired by him. Even if it was under false pretenses.

The slam of a door downstairs makes me jump.

“Mom?” I call. I wasn’t expecting her home until much later. If at all. She often ends up staying on the ward at night. The kids she nurses – mostly cancer patients – never want her to leave, and she can never tell them no. She doesn’t even get paid when she does that. She just likes to give them comfort.

There’s no answer. Maybe it was our neighbor’s door I heard. The walls are thin enough. The water’s growing cold, and I shiver. I decide I’ll quickly shave my legs while I’m in the bath and then watch a movie with some hot cocoa in my pajamas. Sounds perfect, even with no one to share it with.

A creaky floorboard outside the bathroom makes me drop my razor.

“Fuck!” I hiss as the blade cuts my ankle and blood immediately begins to drip from it. It stings like a bitch, but I’m too distracted by the creaking outside to register much more than that.

“Hello? Mom, are you home?”

Nothing. My pulse spikes.

“Mom?”

My hands start to tremble. No answer.

Then I remember that I never got around to moving the key under the plant pot over the weekend, and my stomach churns.

“Slater?” I call out, trying to make my voice sound more pissed than scared. I fail. “Not funny, you jerk. You have to stop letting yourself in. It’s creepy!”

The door handle jiggles, and I squeak. “You can’t come in! I’m in the bath.”

He doesn’t say anything, and the hair on my arms stands to attention. The ones on the back of my neck prickle, and I gulp.

“S-s-slater?” It’s virtually a whisper. I stand and grab my towel, holding it up in front of me and climbing out of the tub. “Is that you?”

The door bangs open, and a dark, silhouetted figure fills the doorway. I scream and scramble backward, my spine slamming painfully into the sink and knocking the air from my lungs.

The figure steps forward, and the candlelight hits his face. It’s not Slater. It’s the masked man. The same one from before – or the same mask at least – and as he takes another menacing step toward me, my knees tremble.

“P-please.”

“Hello, Cora.”

I frantically whip my head from side to side, as if my denial can make this any less real.

“You look beautiful,” he says, looking me up and down. Like before, his voice is altered somehow. Before I thought it was just muffled, but now I’m not sure. It sounds…weird. Unlike anyone I’ve ever heard before. Could there be some sort of mechanical voice changer under there? I don’t know.

I’m so distracted by his words that I don’t immediately realize that in my fear I’ve dropped the towel. With a squeak of surprise, I bend down to retrieve it, but he steps forward and places a large black combat boot on the edge of the material, preventing me from being able to grab it.

“Please,” I whimper.

“Why hide from me, Cora? I can always see you.”

His words fill me with a paralyzing fear. “W-what do you mean?”

“Enough talking. Get on your knees for me.”

The noise that escapes me is plaintive and desperate. “No. Please. Don’t do this,” I beg.

I can’t see his face, but his posture is relaxed, and when he casually raises his arms to place his hands behind his head, I realize that he likes it when I beg. One of his gloved hands drops to his crotch and he rubs – the outline of his erection clear.

He likes my fear. Gets off on it. And as much as a small, brave, part of me wants to withhold my terror and not give him the satisfaction, I have no more control over my reactions to him than I do over what’s about to transpire next.

“Please, don’t.” Tears stream down my face as he patiently waits for me to obey him. I don’t see a gun this time, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t got one. He’s also far too big for me to tackle, and he’s still blocking the exit out of our tiny bathroom.

Besides, even if I could get past him, how far could I run before he caught me?

And what would he do if I made him mad?

With that realization, I sink to my knees. They hit the cold bathroom tiles, and I shiver. My wet hair is running icy rivers down my naked flesh, and goosebumps have risen all over my skin. I’m freezing, but I’m too terrified to say or do anything about it.

“Good girl.”

I whimper.

I am a good girl. I’ve always tried so hard to be good. I work hard, stay out of trouble, and help my mom as best I can. Until Mr. Spiro, I never put a toe out of line. I knew it wasn’t right, but I convinced myself he loved me and was worth breaking the rules for. We’d only have to wait a few months until I graduated, and then we could be together.

Bullshit. I realize that now.

But is this my punishment for getting involved with my teacher?

While I’ve been lost in my thoughts, staring at the floor while tears cascade down my face, the masked man has come even closer. His boots fill my teary vision, and I sniff as my nose begins to run.

He strokes my hair, making me cringe away from him, but that action angers him because he fists my wet hair and yanks. Pain explodes all along my scalp, and I rise up tall on my knees in a vain attempt to release some of the tension. He keeps pulling, twisting his fist further into my hair, effectively shortening the leash he has me on. His other hand has unzipped his fly and is fisting his cock… It’s inches from my lips now.

“Open wide.”

“P—”

That’s as far as he lets me get before he’s slamming his cock past my lips. His head hits the back of my throat, and I gag, tears falling as fast as the pain, as he ignores my panic and pushes deeper.

My hands go to his thighs and push with all my might, trying to free myself, but he doesn’t move a muscle. It’s like pushing against a solid wall. Panic floods me as I struggle to breathe; he’s not letting up, and my nose is too stuffy to breathe through.

Oh my god. I’m going to die. I’m going to die naked in my bathroom, and my mom will find me and —

Gasping for breath, I cough and splutter and cry even harder. He’s released me from his dick, but he still has hold of my hair, so I know he’s not done.

“Look at you. Fucking magnificent.”

I don’t waste my precious moments begging, I focus on getting as much air into my lungs as possible, even though they’re screaming, and my throat is burning.

When he pulls my hair again, I can’t stop the reflex that sends my chin up and my mouth open.

“Fucking perfect, Cora. You look so fucking good on your knees. Absolutely fucking perfect.”

His words chase away a little of the chill, but because of the mechanical way they come out, it makes his praise even more terrifying than his threats.

“I’m going to let you go now, but you need to be a good girl and open wide. Just imagine you’re in training for a porn film, love.”

I can hear the anticipation in his voice, and I begin to tremble in fear. He hasn’t hurt me yet, but I know he will.

He releases my hair, and I let out a ragged breath. Even though my hair is still damp, at least it’s no longer pulling at my scalp. The urge to massage the pain from my scalp is overwhelming, but I’m still on my knees, my hands resting on his thighs, and I don’t want to anger him again, so I stay put.

The breath I just took is still echoing in my lungs when he grips my chin and pulls my face closer to his body. His cock is right in front of me, intimidatingly thick and huge, and covered in my saliva. The tip glistens with pre-cum in the candlelight.

Gritting my teeth, I take a deep breath through my nose to clear it, and then I stretch my mouth wide. I’m still afraid of him, and I know if I don’t open wide enough, I’ll suffer for it later. I don’t know what will happen, what he has in mind. I don’t want to know. I just need to play along until I can get out of this bathroom.

He pushes forward and guides his cock between my lips.

I can already taste the salt from his skin, and I’m panicking again, wondering if he’s going to cum in my mouth. If he does, I don’t know if I’ll be able to swallow it down. I know I should be ashamed of myself, that’s not how a good girl behaves, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to swallow. I don’t want him to come in my mouth. But he’s too big, and his cock is already at my throat, so there’s nothing I can do about it.

Barely able to breathe around his length, I start to panic that I’m going to choke. He’s not forcing himself deeper by controlling my head anymore, but he’s not going easy on me either. His hands come to cup my cheeks and as he gazes down at me through the blank, expressionless eyes of the mask, a feeling of calm washes over me. His touch is almost gentle…reverential. I swallow and he groans.

“That’s it, good girl, Cora. Swallow me deep.”

My shivers turn to tingles, and I push myself a little deeper. Maybe if I can make him come, he’ll be distracted enough that I can make a run for it. Careful not to show too much enthusiasm, I whimper and push myself a little deeper.

“That’s it, my beautiful girl,” he whispers, watching my face as he thrusts his cock further into my mouth. “Let me use your sweet mouth.”

He sounds so sincere, despite the voice changer, that I’m almost fooled into thinking he means it. But I know he doesn’t. He’s a stranger. An insane stranger who’s trapped me in my bathroom. I don’t know why he’s doing this. I don’t know what he wants, but I can guess. He wants to own me. He wants to use me.

“That’s the way. Let me fuck that pretty mouth.”

He’s started to thrust into my mouth to match the words he’s whispering, occasionally sighing.

“That’s it, my little slut.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out his voice as he thrusts harder and deeper. I wince when his cock hits the back of my already sore throat, and he grunts with the effort it takes to push further in. He’s so fucking big, and he’s getting harder by the second.

I try to back off, terrified that I’m going to choke on my own spit, but his hands tighten on my face, and he groans.

“Fuck, you look so good on your knees with my cock shoved down your throat. You want it, don’t you? You want me to fuck your mouth.”

“No,” I manage to whisper around his thickness, but he doesn’t stop.

“Yes. You want me to come in your mouth. You want to be a good girl.”

I try to shake my head, but he’s not having it.

“I want to hear you beg me for it.”

The words should set my teeth on edge, they should fill me with revulsion, but instead, they’ve only made the shivers turn to tingles once more – except this time it’s between my legs.

“Cora.” A warning as he pulls his cock free of my lips. Ribbons of drool stretch from my lips to his tip and drool runs down my face. It even coats my chest. What would it feel like to replace that cold wetness with the heat of his cum?

“Please,” I say, my voice shaking as my tears begin to fall again. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

I’ve never begged a man for anything in my life, and I’m not proud of it, but I need him to stop and leave me alone. And, if I’m being honest with myself, his words were changing something in me. I know it’s wrong, but I want to make him come – and not just so I can run away.

“Please, let me swallow your cum.”

I’m pleading with him now, and he grunts, nodding his head. His hands move to the back of my head as he continues to fuck my mouth, no longer holding my face, but it doesn’t matter because I’m not going anywhere. I’m frozen in place. I just have to breathe through my nose, keeping my mouth open as wide as possible around his girth, as drool leaks from the corners of my lips, and my cream drips from between my legs.

I’m a vessel for his pleasure. Literally, a hole for him to use and fuck, and that thought makes my thighs slick.

There’s something wrong with me.

I’m expecting him to pull out at any second. I’m waiting for him to come, but he doesn’t. He keeps pushing forward, holding my head in place as he plows into my mouth. Two more thrusts and he’s there, at the back of my throat. His hands are shaking as he pushes forward, groaning as my nose makes contact with his abdomen.

His cock swells, and then with a violent jerk of his hips he’s coming, emptying what seems to be a never ending river of cum down my throat. I swallow as best I can, but I choke and cough, panic rising once more. He groans and holds me tighter, still pumping his essence down my throat, seeming to get off more on me choking.

My vision starts to fade, there’s a buzzing in my ears, and my limbs are turning to jelly. Just when I think I’m going to pass out, he pulls free, slaps my cheek hard and forces me to take a deep shuddering breath.

“Fuck, Cora. That was so good,” he coos while I cry at his feet and attempt to drag enough air into my lungs to stave off death.

I really thought his cock was going to kill me.

“You know,” he says, cocking his head to one side as I stare up at him. The blankness of the mask is disconcerting and makes me shiver. I almost feel like seeing his face would make this easier to take, to handle. The mask scares me more than the things he makes me do. “I came here tonight to take something from you. But you gave so willingly, surrendered so freely, and let me fuck that throat so beautifully, I really feel like I should return the favor now.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I frantically shake my head. I don’t need or want anything from him.

He crouches down and fists my hair, yanking me to my feet and making me cry out in pain.

“That wasn’t very nice, Cora. I offered you a gift, and you threw it back in my face.”

He shakes his fist – the one holding my hair – and I rattle like a rag doll.

He’s angry. I’ve made him mad. How do I get out of this?

“S-sorry!” I cry as even more tears stream down my face. My scalp feels like it’s on fire, but he doesn’t let me go. “Th-thank y-you for the o-offer, but?—”

“But nothing. If I want to give you something, I damn well will, and you’ll thank me for it.”

“Yes! Yes! Please! I’m sorry!”

He drops me to the floor so suddenly that my legs don’t have time to catch me, and my knees slam painfully into the floor.

“Lean against the side of the bath,” he orders. Despite the cool mechanical tone from the mask, I can see in the rapid rise and fall of his chest that he’s still mad.

I crawl over to the edge of the tub and try not to cower when he steps toward me.

“Up on your knees. Lean over the side.”

I’m too terrified of the repercussions to disobey him.

“Spread your legs… Wide… Wider!” I whimper when he shouts so loud that I hear his words beneath the mask and not just from the voice changer. My brain is too frazzled with fear though to work out if I recognized it. “Spread your motherfucking legs now, Cora, or I’ll do it for you, and you won’t like it.”

I cry as I comply.

“Good girl.”

His praise after his threats of violence make it even worse, and the tears flow even faster as a sob wracks my entire body.

Then his fingers are between my legs, probing, and I’m clenching in a bid to keep him out.

He chuckles.

“Fighting me is pointless, Cora. This can feel good, or you can fight me, but…I guess I don’t have to tell you…”

“I won’t like it,” I reply flatly, trying to force my body to relax. It’s hard though, it goes against my fear and that fight or flight instinct. Right now, neither of those are an option, which leaves me with freeze or fawn. And by fawn, I mean give in.

I pull a fortifying breath into my lungs and grip the edge of the bath to give me strength, before forcing my body to relax - if such a thing is even possible.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, sliding a hand along the length of my spine. It’s so startling, but it takes me a moment to place why.

You can feel the heat of his fingers. He’s removed his gloves.

I swallow hard as he gently probes at my entrance this time, and I breathe through the urge to clench.

“You’re wet, Cora,” he says, his breath tickling my ear. I jolt and try to turn my head, but he grabs the back of my neck, locking me in place. His other hand is still exploring between my legs. “Stay put like a good girl, and I’ll make you feel good.”

He’s whispering now, his voice too low to discern, and the fact that I can feel his warm breath on my cold skin means he’s removed his mask. Or lifted it slightly, at least. Why? Isn’t that risky? Does he not care if I turn and look and see who he is?

“You won’t, Cora,” he rumbles, his voice incredibly low and raspy, making me wonder if I uttered those thoughts out loud. “Because you want to be good. You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you? You want me to make you feel good.”

I whimper as his finger breaches my entrance, and his words cloud and fog my mind. I stare down at the cooling water that ripples with each of my panting breaths as he pushes his finger deeper inside me, twisting it slightly. I whimper when he withdraws, and he chuckles again.

“So needy, Cora. You’re already begging for me,” he coos as he pushes back in. Two fingers this time. I can tell from the sudden burning stretch.

I try to shake my head in denial, but his grip tightens on the back of my neck.

“Don’t deny what we can both feel, pet.” He pulls his fingers free, and the wet sound in the quiet room makes my body blaze with embarrassment. “We can feel it, we can hear it, and fuck…” More wet, slurping sounds this time that make my jaw drop. “We can taste it.”

Before I can ask what he means, he thrusts two ungloved fingers deep into my mouth. I cough and gag, but he doesn’t give in, holding his thick fingers in my mouth expectantly until I relax enough to suck my essence from them. It tastes…sweet. Not bad. Nicer than his salty cum, that’s for sure. I lick every drop from him while he grinds his dick – how is he hard again? – against my bare ass.

“Good girl. Do you see how much you like this? Can you taste it?”

I close my eyes and nod, giving in to the inevitable. Maybe if he thinks I love it, he’ll get me off and let me go quicker. I’d rather die than admit that I’m wet because he’s pleasuring me.

He chuckles, and his fingers are gone so fast I’m not even sure he removed them. I open my mouth to complain, but he shushes me, and I think of kicking him in the balls before the meaning of his words sinks in.

“Good girl.”

He grabs my hips and thrusts his fingers into me so hard I scream out and fall forward, my hands in the water, keeping me upright. It feels like I’m being split in two.

“Yes,” he hisses, the fingers of his other hand digging painfully into the soft flesh of my hips. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted to feel the pain, didn’t you?”

I sob and drop my head so that my wet hair covers my face.

A moment later, a sharp sting cuts through the fog in my mind as he slaps my bare ass hard. I cry out and try to pull away, but he holds me tight, pinned right up against the bath panel, and caresses my stinging skin.

“Shh, it’s okay, Cora. I’m just giving you what you want,” he croons, thrusting his fingers back into my pussy. I moan as he returns to finger-fucking me. “It felt good, didn’t it?”

I nod.

“You like being fucked hard, don’t you, Cora?”

I sigh and give in, nodding. Give him what he wants, and it’s over faster, Cora. Besides, I have no idea how I like to be fucked, because I’ve never been fucked. But I’m almost certain that I wouldn’t like it like this.

He slaps my ass again, making me suck in a breath. I don’t cry out though.

“Good girl.”

Again and again he slaps my ass, and I get wetter and wetter, my sensitive skin screaming as he spanks and fingers me, but I’m not allowed to cry out; only to moan and whimper through what definitely hurts, but somehow feels amazing as well.

I’m going to come any second, but he doesn’t give me the chance.

He releases my hip and slams his palm down on my back with so much force that I’m thrust forward, face-first, into the cold bath water.

I scramble like crazy to get out, but the masked man holds me down, deliberately keeping me trapped beneath the surface.

Panic grabs hold of me, and I flail madly, thrashing about. He holds me down easily, one hand spread under the surface of the water, keeping me there as I struggle. The other is still thrusting in and out of my pussy.

“Cora, Cora, Cora,” he mocks as he holds me down with no difficulty, laughing in my face as I thrash about before jerking me out of the water. “You’re not drowning, Cora. I could hold you here forever if I wanted to. I don’t think you want me to though, do you?”

I shake my head, and he plunges me back under. My brain is firing broken messages to my body, telling it to breathe, but my body is too busy pleading with him for mercy, my lungs unable to draw breath.

He chuckles. “Cora, calm down. Focus on my voice. Focus on my fingers…that’s it…good. I will let you up. When you come for me. So be a good girl, and do it quickly, and you won’t pass out.”

I push my panic down, focusing on his voice… It’s not mechanical anymore. He must be speaking without the mask on. But with water splashing against my ears, I can’t discern the voice at all. Instead, I focus on his fingers, the way they’re working in and out of my body, driving my pleasure higher and higher. I don’t have long, but the danger is part of the thrill that’s turning me on.

The words he’s muttering now are gibberish, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I moan for him and writhe against his hand and come very quickly.

I explode around him, my body shuddering with pleasure as I release around his thrusting fingers. He yanks them out the moment I come, fisting my hair and pulling my head above the surface of the water. I gulp in as much air as I can, crying uncontrollably from the fear, the need to breathe, and the force of my orgasm.

He holds me until I get my breathing under control before hauling me away from the bath and into his arms, ignoring my struggles. He doesn’t let go until I’m limp. He holds me close and strokes my hair with one hand. I blink away the water and stare into the mask which is firmly back in place. As are his gloves. Did I imagine his mouth on me, his non-mechanical voice, the burning heat of his fingers?

“Good girl,” he whispers, before carrying me into my bedroom. I don’t have the strength to ask how he knows his way around my house.

He peels back the covers and deposits me in bed, tucking me in tenderly. My brain is so foggy, my emotions at war with these two sides of him. He’s saved me in the past only to brutally take from me. Tonight he’s taken, but he’s also given me pleasure too. I’m so confused.

“What do you want?” I mumble sleepily, sinking back into the covers as he grabs the blanket from the end of my bed and tosses it over the top of me.

“Right now? I want you to sleep, Cora. Get some rest. Our games are going to get harder. I’ve been kind up until now.”

“Who are you?”

“Maybe you’ll find out one day…maybe you’ll never know. Exciting isn’t it?”

“But…”

“But what?” he asks, the gentleness gone in an instant. The power behind his voice is so dark.

“Will you fuck me again?” I whisper instead, half dreading his answer might be yes, but also terrified it might be no. What’s wrong with me?

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, Cora. I’m not fucking you, yet. You’re not ready for that. But you are mine, so I will eventually. I’m not fucking you in your heart or your mind, either. I’m wrecking them.”

I frown in confusion, but before I can ask for an explanation, he brings his gloved fingers up to his masked lips, presses a kiss to them, and then places those fingers against my forehead briefly. “Just remember, Cora. So long as I’m the biggest monster in your life, no one else can hurt you. Only me. Sleep tight, Cora.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I’m convinced I’ll lie there for hours, unable to sleep, because no matter how hard I try, I can’t escape the thoughts in my head, or the aching desire between my legs.

But I’m out like a light before I even hear the door slam.