I try to focus but I can't. Memories of Marcus cloud my mind. Of him touching me, kissing me. My mind tried to insist I wanted his touch, but it felt as if spiders were crawling on my skin, even as my body betrayed me. My hand throbs where the nails are missing and the fingers a bloody pulp. He wasn't content with just one, pulling off all of those on my right hand before crushing the fingers beneath his boot when after the first one I tried to claw him with the remaining nails.
For some reason, I followed his instrucions dociley, kneeling while he entered me roughly from behind, while a part of me screamed and rattled the bars where I am locked inside my own mind. I can't think for myself. I feel pleasure when I obey him. He is making himself my world, and I want to die, save for the part of me that slinks away inside and plots slitting his throat if he would only untie my hands.
I wait for him in my bedroom. Justin and mine, I remind myself. Thoughts of Justin give me strength and make the haze clear a bit. I will do this. I will kiss his boots if I need to if it allows me to later spit in his face and watch while he dies.
When he enters the room, he strokes my skin and presses his lips against mine. I want to vomit, instead I kiss him back, feeling a dull throb of well being at doing his bidding.
He takes some clothes out of my wardrobe and hands them to me, watching me while I dress, then retying my hands. I can feel his erection pressing against my thigh as he whispers in my ear. "We're going visiting my sweet. But first ... you have something you need to do."
I kneel and take his cock in my mouth, wanting nothing more to bite it off and spit it out. But I will bide my time, for now let him think that I am his.