Page 7 of Uprising

That I’ll be punished if I even attempt it.

But I do shut the door.

It’s all I can do. The only privacy I get and I know it’ll be short-lived.

But in this moment I’ll take it. I’ll take every fleeting second I can. I need to breathe, I need to think, I need to wash away the horrific image of Roman’s rotting face from my memory and just have a few brief seconds to myself.

Only as I get in the shower and the water starts cascading down I hear it, the creak of the hinges, the sliding of the glass door. All tell tale signs that my peace is already gone.

He gets in behind me, and immediately slides his hands around and across my body, laying claim to me once more.

He fondles my breasts, rubs shower gel over them, staring at me in a way that makes me so close to puking.

“I love your body.” He murmurs. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect to look at.”

I don’t reply. It’s all I can do not to throw up over his feet.

And then he pushes me against the tiles, shoving himself inside me, and begins fucking me. I wince, screwing my face up. I’m so not turned on that every thrust is like a dagger.

He groans grabbing at my breasts, squeezing them like it’s some sort of stress relief. He’s too lost in his own pleasure to notice how much I am not into this.

“You’re so tight, you’re gripping me so good.”

I hate his voice. I hate his dirty talk, I hate it all. I want to shout out that I’m not gripping him, that I’m not enjoying this for a minute, that what he’s doing is excruciating to me, disgusting too.

Only I don’t dare.

I can’t say those words. I can’t do anything but grit my teeth and take it.

He runs his fingers down, massaging my clit as I try not to jerk.

“Come for me Rose.” He murmurs.

I shut my eyes. Thank god he’s not actually pleasuring me in this moment because I don’t want to. I never want to come for him. I never want him to think that I’m enjoying this. Even the few times he forces me to pretend we both know that’s what it is, a pretence.

I never want him to believe anything else.

I never want to give him that satisfaction.

And as he starts digging his hand into my hip, groaning harder, I brace myself for more insults, more degradation as he gets closer and closer to his climax.

* * *

The black limousinepulls up outside the house as Darius grips my hand so firmly in his that I think he’s actually trying to crush my knuckles.

“Remember.” He murmurs.

As if I won’t.

As if I could forget.

We get in. He sits beside me, and I stare out the window but I can feel the way he’s watching me.

This is a risk, taking me out in public, at least he clearly thinks it is.

But for me it’s just another torture session. Another show of how much power he has and how much of a prisoner I am.

Only today is worse.