Four-3
1716 Words
He cups my ass, grunting, his hand still moving frantically. I desperately search for a weapon, and when I see it, I don’t hesitate. Kazimir violently forces my bottoms aside, exposing me to him. “Your pink p***y is heaven.” He runs his rough finger along my entrance, hissing low.
I am horrified, but I use that to dive for the fire extinguisher, and in one smooth motion, I spin around and strike out, connecting with Kazimir’s temple.
My heart is in my throat as I watch Kazimir’s eyes widen in utter shock before he slumps to the deck with his disgusting d**k still in hand. I hold the fire extinguisher high, as I’m expecting him to come back to life like some bad horror movie, but he doesn’t move.
His c**k soon deflates and flops lifelessly against his leg.
Gulping in mouthfuls of air, I drop the extinguisher and cry in relief, brushing back my hair. But I’m not done. Jumping over Kazimir’s unmoving body, I sink to my knees and unhook the fist mic, fiddling frantically with the dials. “Hello? Hello? Can anybody hear me?” I hysterically say into the mic.
All I get is static in response.
I continue turning the dials, hoping for some kind of a response. “Come on!” I cry, squeezing the button on the mic, refusing to give up.
“Hello? Help me, please. I’ve been kidnapped.” The radio frequency continues cackling at my expense. This is hopeless.
Peering into the heavens, I pray for a miracle. I beg that for once, the universe cuts me some slack. A tear scores my cheek because if this doesn’t work, I have just signed my own death warrant.
Ripping open the white chest, I see that I was right as inside is a life vest and some flares. If this doesn’t work, then this will have to be my Plan B. Just as I’m about to slip the vest over my head, I hear it…a sign from above.
“Hello?”
I sob in response as I dive for the fist mic. “Hello? Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” the male voice says through the static. The connection isn’t great, but all that matters is that I’ve made contact. “What are your coordinates?”
“I don’t know,” I say in a rushed breath. “I’ve been kidnapped. My name is Willow Shaw. I’m an American. Please help me.”
I slump to the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks. I did it. I’m saved. Now that that realization hits, I begin to tremble uncontrollably. The past six days crash into me, and I struggle to breathe.
“What is the name of your vessel?”
“I-I d-don’t kn-know,” I stutter, measuring my breathing so I can answer his questions. “All I know is that we’re headed for Russia. Aleksei—” The line suddenly goes dead.
Fear overthrows me, and I desperately spring into action, turning the dials, but it’s useless. “No!” I sob, searching the radio for signs of why it just died. “Hello?” The fist mic button echoes uselessly.
Just as I’m about to try again, a darkness shadows me, revealing the reason my communication to the outside world has just been severed.
I hastily shrink backward, hiding behind the helm because before me stands Saint, and he’s holding the cables he tore from the radio in his hand. He is f*****g furious. “You have no…no idea what you’ve just done.”
There is a fraction of calm, but it’s the calm before the storm.
He lunges forward, reaching for my legs, but I kick out hysterically, screaming at the top of my lungs as I attempt to curl myself into a small ball. “No!”
But it’s useless as he drops to a squat and grips my ankle. I lash out, violently fighting, hoping the small space I’m hidden in will protect me, but nothing will protect me from the wrath of Saint. I kick my legs, writhing and attempting to escape, but Saint yanks me forward, uncaring he’ll probably decapitate me in the process.
I search for anything to grab onto, but the wheel is out of my reach, and I fall onto my back, my head slamming onto the hard, wooden decking. He drags me out as I scramble to anchor myself, my fingernails bending backward as they claw uselessly at the floor. He simply shoves Kazimir aside with his boot and continues hauling me like a sack of potatoes.
“I’m sorry!” I sob, but it’s too late. He doesn’t want my apologies. He’s out for blood.
I squirm madly, kicking and thrashing about, but Saint only tightens his hold around my ankle. I frantically search for a weapon, but the world is upside down—a perfect analogy for my life right now.
When we reach the stairs, he doesn’t stop, and each bump of the step causes my head to bang against the hard wood. I twist onto my stomach, attempting to reach out to grab the railing, but Saint pulls me roughly, and I let go, afraid he’ll tear me into two.
When I’m at the bottom of the stairs, he lets me go, roaring loudly and punching what sounds like the wall. I immediately scamper for the lounge, curling my knees toward my chest as I sob hysterically, rocking. Saint slams the first-aid kit into the Russian’s chest, screaming in Russian.
I assume he’s just told him what I’ve done.
The Russian snarls, advancing forward with his fist raised. I cower, whimpering, awaiting the blow. But it never comes.
“Don’t you f*****g touch her!” Saint bellows. I’m too lost to even digest why that is.
Footsteps dart up the stairs, and all I can think is what comes next.
My body is vibrating violently, and my sobs are robbing me of breath. This is it. He’s finally going to kill me. For a split second, I believed I had actually done it. That I was free.
“I have tried to be nice, ангел, so why do you force my hand? Do you want me to chain you up like a dog? Is that it?”
I just weep in response.
I can hear him pacing, clearly grappling with what to do next. “Kneel,” he finally commands.
I’m too broken to object, so I unfold myself and quickly obey.
My eyes are cast downward as I can’t look at him. I’m afraid. His staggered breathing reveals his rage.
“Why won’t you listen? Why won’t you break?” he screams, infuriated. “Don’t you understand…this cruelness is the only kindness I can show you. I can’t deliver you to him with you behaving this way. He will…” He abruptly stops speaking.
It seems he wants to apologize, but I don’t know what he’s seeking absolution for until I hear him unbuckling his belt. I squeeze my eyes shut, shivering, awaiting my punishment.
A hiss slicing through the air is what I hear before I feel him whip me. It still doesn’t prepare me for the agony which has my mouth bursting open, but my scream has gone into hiding, and all that leaves me is a pained grunt.
He strikes me once again, and as the belt comes down across my ass, the impact has my body whiplashing forward. Tears leak from my eyes. “I’m sorry!” I sob, but it’s too late for apologies.
Whack.
Each crack rattles my core.
Spittle and tears coat my face as I choke on my raspy breaths. When he hits me again, it’s across my lower back. “Please stop.” The pain is sharp. The sting is punishing. But I know this is a tickle compared to what Saint could do to me.
“You have to learn.”
Whack.
“You will listen.”
Whack.
He continues whipping me until I can no longer feel my body as I’ve detached myself from this plane. When he hits me across my ass, I slump forward, begging he stops.
“Get up,” he pants, his tone filled with irritation.
But I can’t.
My entire body is broken. “No…more. I’ll be-behave,” I whisper, weeping.
“I wish I could believe you.”
Whack.
It doesn’t matter what position I’m in, Saint won’t stop until he’s satisfied I’ve learned my lesson.
“I’m so-sorry,” I stutter, suppressing my absolute suffering as this is the only way to make him stop.
“Who do you belong to?” he asks, breathless and manic.
“You.” And the air fills with victory.
I want to cut out my own tongue for surrendering, but I can’t take anymore.
He uses his foot to part my legs slightly as he coaxes my ankles apart. I wonder why. My question is answered soon enough. When he hits me across the ass, with a lot less force this time, it’s quite low and skims my s*x. It vibrates all the way to my core. I shudder involuntarily, and my n*****s instantly pearl. When he does it again, the flick is somehow able to strike me in a way that it feels like he’s just hit me against my center. I whimper, biting my lip.
What in the actual f**k?
My cheeks burst into flames because in some perverse way, just how when he spanked me, this feels good. I am disgusting. I deserve every blow he gives me. But this is so taboo; the immorality of it has me wanting more.
My body has suffered countless strikes. Each time he’s brought down his belt, a whoosh of air leaves him, and he’s left breathless. I’d like to think he’s not getting off on punishing me, but history proves otherwise.
I am hot all over, and my flesh feels raw. Tears are streaming down my cheek, and I can’t breathe. But underneath that lies this…craving. I need it to stop.
“Please. No more. I’m sorry.”
The belt drops to the floor with a thud.
I am aching all over as my body feels as tight as a bow. A bundle of nerves scratches down low, and I discreetly rub my legs together, desperate to douse the flames.
“You can shower,” Saint says before he staggers up the stairs, leaving me alone with this deep-rooted shame…which is exactly what he wanted.
Once he’s gone, I only then allow myself to feel and collapse onto my side, sobbing. Drawing my knees to my chest, I hug them tightly, confused and scared. Through the pain is utmost confusion because I don’t understand why I responded the way I did.
Yes, it hurt, as he f*****g hit me with his belt, but each blow masqueraded a luscious sensation, hovering between pleasure and pain. What is wrong with me?
Closing my eyes, I succumb to sleep as it’s the only place where my demons don’t judge me for the wicked creature I’ve become.
- Writer
