Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
As I wash myself, I feel the ache between my thighs, the sensitivity in my pussy which comes from having given myself to him. It is not that I am in pain, precisely. I am sensitive, and my pussy feels different, somehow, though that is probably just projection because I know that I allowed a man with an impossibly thick, hard cock to ravage me.
“What are you doing, Elise?” I whisper the question to myself as the warm water cascades over me. The shower is the only thing thus far to anchor me to my typical normality. The water is cleansing and the heat is calming and I start to realize I really need to get out of here, go to a doctor and the police, perhaps not in that precise order.
I get out of the shower and dress myself in what I brought with me. It turns out panicked me has a penchant for leggings and tank tops. Both of these are pink. It would be a cute outfit if I was going to the gym. Instead I’m… what am I doing?
I look into the mirror that doesn’t steam up because nothing in this place follows the laws of reason. Logically, I know it is because there are coatings that can prevent steam, but in this moment, it just feels like another aberration from normality.
I look pale. Am I always this pale? I washed my hair. I don’t know why. I suppose it was the same auto-pilot. My hair hangs almost all the way to my breasts when it is wet. The only bit of color on me is the red seeping through the bandage. The moment I see that flash of red, I start to feel pain. I didn’t even notice it before, but now I can feel nothing else. The mind is truly a strange thing.
My cry of pain brings Cosmos through the bathroom door as if the lock wasn’t there. He pops it out of the frame itself, causing the kind of damage that hotels take credit card details in advance to cover. He is armed with the same knife he appeared in my apartment with, and his expression is dangerously feral. I let out a shriek and jump backward, forgetting that I must have summoned him with my cry.
He relaxes when he realizes I’m not being attacked. Why does he think I’m going to be in peril several stories up in a bathroom? He is the definition of paranoid or would be if not for the fact that danger seems to surround us. Mostly because we’re a danger to ourselves.
“What’s wrong?”
“My arm hurts.”
“Oh. Yes. Wounds do that. You shouldn’t have gotten the bandage wet.”
“Would it have made a difference to the pain?”
“No. But it decreases the likelihood of infection.”
He speaks of infection and medical care like a perfectly sane human being. It gives me a little glimmer of hope that I might be able to reason with him after all.
Having led me from the bathroom and into the main suite, Cosmos sits me down at the table they probably intended to be used for eating, but inevitably must have been used for all kinds of hotel perversions. He peels the sodden bandage off my arm. It starts bleeding more profusely almost immediately. I turn my head away. I don’t like blood. Especially not this kind, the wrong kind coming from the wrong place.
“Don’t worry, I’ll patch you up.”
He’s fast and efficient. He has me re-bandaged in what seems like under a minute. I feel better, but the wound still aches.
“Did you go to school for medicine?”
“I was an EMT at one time,” he says. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I’m going to stitch that up.”
“You are not.”
“I think you’d probably prefer I did, unless you like having a weeping gash on your arm.”
“I want to go to a hospital.”
“And catch whatever filth is floating about the halls? No. We’ll do it here. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think I will be, actually.”
He cups my face in his hands. “I am never going to let any harm come to you, do you understand? I want you to know that to your very core. You never have to be afraid of anyone or anything again.”
“Really? What about climate change?”
He smirks rakishly as I rebuff what would have been a very romantic moment if he wasn’t a stranger who just forced me into marriage. I refuse to give into his charms. I know that’s what he wants. Men like him are used to taking what they want from women. All he has to do is smile and I bet entire rooms swoon. I know I swooned for him. I spread my legs and I let him take what I was telling myself I was saving for marriage. All it took was a pretend ceremony at some twisted altar and I was ready to fuck him. God. Who am I?