Filthy 3: A Dark Erotic Serial (5 page)

“I haven’t been with anyone else.” I knew now that he didn’t know. The look on his face said it all. He was angry, but he wanted to believe me. He had to believe me if I was ever going to get any cocaine. “Only you, Taylor. Only you.” A tear leaked out of one of my eyes.

A sneer covered his face. “You’re mine. Only mine.” He said the words right against my face before releasing me. My head hit the carpet with a thud. Seconds later he was slamming into me, his big cock spearing me. But he was thrusting too hard, going to deep. His cock seemed to rip through me, and I tried to scramble back on my elbows. He stayed my weak movements with his big hands. “You’re never going to run from me again. Ever!” He shouted the words as he fucked me hard, slamming his dick inside as far as he could go, demanding I take more.
 

“Taylor, you’re hurting me.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Daddy,” I screeched. “Daddy, you’re hurting me.”

The plea seemed to spark something in him, he slowed down his pace and reached behind him. His hand came back with something silver. A blade clicked into place just as panic kicked me in the gut. I tried to scramble backward, but again he stopped me.

“Do you remember this, Faye baby?” He kept thrusting his hips as he held the knife to my face.

I did. I remembered all of it. He used the blade on me after Rhett left, on my stomach particularly. He would slice my skin, making shallow, painful cuts. Cuts that wouldn’t scar so there would be no lasting evidence. But the pain was there. Always there in the back of my mind.
 

“Do you remember how good it was with the knife?”
 

“I—” The slice of the blade on the skin just below my left breast ended the words in my throat and made me cry out in pain. He tossed the knife away and pressed his fingers against the wound, still moving his hips.
 

“Look how pretty it is.” He lifted his fingers up for me to see. They were dark with my blood. He swiped one finger across my closed lips. “It’s so red. So pretty.” More tears pressed at the back of my eyes. He moved his hips faster and fingered the cut again. “Don’t you like it?” He rubbed his fingers together, smearing the crimson. I watched the movement in slow motion. It was never-ending. Until it did end. He pressed his hand to the cut harder, squeezing it, coaxing more blood out. He snaked his damp fingertips between our bodies and rubbed the moisture on my throbbing clit.
 

I moaned and he fucked me harder. It hurt, the way he stabbed into me roughly, but something sweet bloomed from the pain. Even though I had just cum, even though not even ten minutes had passed, the orgasm surprised me. Sneaking up on me. I was too weak to fight it. I let it take me. I let it swallow me whole while he fucked me harder, while blood dripped from my superficial wound. Just as it was ending he pulled out of me, fisting his cock a few times before groaning and hot liquid spurted onto my stomach.

I lay there on the pristine white carpet, my body limp and achy. “Please.” The word slipped from my lips of its own accord. I needed the coke. I needed it now. I couldn’t wait any longer. I felt like mush. Like complete and utter shit. I’d cum, sure. But all of it left me feeling worse than before, which I didn’t think was possible. “Please…”

“Please, what?” he chuckled over me, sucking his bloody, cum covered fingertips into his mouth.

“Please, daddy. I need a bump. Please.” I hated how I sounded.
 

He leaned in and pressed his palm to the side of my face. His eyes searching mine. “Not yet, Faye baby.” He smiled. “Not yet.”

One month later.
 

I didn’t know how long I’d been there. In his house. In his bed. It had been weeks. Days. Maybe even months. I wasn’t sure because time all ran together. I spent my days sleeping in his bed. The big bed he used to share with my mother. It was the only place he hadn’t fucked me while my mother was alive. But now that she was gone he seemed hell bent on fucking me there every chance he got.
 

I wasn’t a prisoner. At least that was what he said. But I was. He made me a prisoner with the drugs. He held them over my head. He kept me weak and desperate for them so I wouldn’t run again. When he left for work I didn’t try to run away. I could have. I could have ran and gone back to my home. To Shauna and the drugs. But I didn’t want to. The cocaine Jorge sold me was nothing compared to what Taylor had. He had the best and I knew I wouldn’t be able to function on anything else now.
 

And what was the point really? Why go back when what I needed was here? I had tried to run away from Taylor. I had managed to stay away for years. But he was right, it looked like fate would always send me back here. I would always end up in his arms, no matter how much I hated it. And now he knew I hated it.
 

He could make me cum, he could fuck me. But he knew I didn’t love him, even though he made me say it. He knew that the little girl who would have died for him was gone and in her place someone else. Someone broken, fractured beyond repair. Instead of trying to fix me, he chose to break me even more. And I let him. I let him rip me apart with his hands. With the knife. It was reminiscent of those times I hated so much, only now he had no audience. My mother wasn’t here to cheer him on. She was dead. And every day I spent with Taylor was a day that I envied her. She was free. And I was here, desperate and clinging to the sickness that made me run away in the first place.
 

I sat up and rubbed my face when I heard the front door slam. I only wore a shirt, a big over-sized one that Taylor had given me to wear. I’d worn nothing else since the first day I got here and he undressed me. I hadn’t worn underwear or a bra. Not even once. I hadn’t left the house either. I’d hardly even left this room, especially in the last week.
 

I’d become weaker, somehow. Desperate and crazy. So weak that once I got a bump, I was still a pathetic lump that barely even got up to eat. I would just lay in bed and revel in the high. Taylor would fuck me right after. He would make my body tremble with pleasure. Those were the only moments I looked forward to. Even when he was abusing me, when he was cutting at my skin with his knife and licking up my blood while he fucked me. He still always made me cum. Always. And those were the best times. When I was reveling in the short-lived high or orgasming around his cock. They were my only moments free from the torment. The only moments when I would splinter apart and become nothing, nothing but fractured pieces of hateful ecstasy.
 

“Faye baby.” He came into the room and set down his briefcase. “I missed you,” he said as he approached me. It was the same as always. Each day when he came home he acted like he loved me. He was gentle. He would cook me dinner, sometimes even hand feed me. But after that, that’s when the torture began.
 

There had been one or two nights where he had fucked me sweetly like he used to. But I hated those nights the most. I cried after he fell asleep on those days. When there was pain I could deal with it. I could accept how fucked up everything was. But when there wasn’t any I didn’t know how to cope with it. I didn’t know how to accept the reality of everything.

I hadn’t seen Rhett since the day I left his apartment. He had called one time—that I knew of—to check on me. Taylor had made me suck his dick the whole time he talked on the phone. Forcing his cock down my throat over and over, making me choke on it. It was almost as if he wanted Rhett to hear. Wanted him to know what he was doing. Rhett didn’t know though and when their conversation was over, Taylor face fucked me until he came, squirting his load down my throat. This was nothing that hadn’t happened to me before. But it was a little different knowing that Rhett was just on the other end of the line. So close and so far away.
 

I thought about him a lot between the sex and the pain. I wondered if he missed me. But then I knew he didn’t. He had probably just got done fucking Sarah before he called. Hell he was probably fucking her while they talked on the phone. Like father, like son, right?

I wondered what he would think if he knew what I was doing now. If he knew just how far I had fallen even since the last time I saw him. I had become some slave junkie. Who knew there was something worse than what I already was?

“I’ve got something for you.” Taylor stood to his full height and dug in his pocket. He pulled out a little white packet. I stared at with a slack mouth. He’d given me a bump two days ago. It was too soon for him to give me more. He had withheld the sweet stuff for over a day when I first got there. He had fucked me nine times that day. Nine times. I had been a sore achy mess at the end of it. After that he gave it to me every hour for I didn’t know how long. I had lived in a state of perpetual bliss until he took it away. And by then I needed it even more than before. I had to have it. And he knew that. Now he waited until I was a drooling pathetic mess before he gave me any.

“Really?”
 

“Yes.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “You’ve been a good girl lately.” He smiled down at me. “Take your shirt off.”
 

I complied immediately, whipping the material over my head. He laid the little baggie down on the nightstand and pushed me back on the bed. He ran his hands over the marks on my skin. There were so many now. More than I could count. Hundreds. He had painted me in my own blood. Made me a canvas for his sick twisted mind and I let him. I let him twirl the dark liquid around my nipples, on my neck. All over.
 

“I want you to fuck me this time.” He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his smooth, flawless torso.

The very idea made me want to roll over and go back to sleep. I didn’t have the energy or the strength to do any such thing.
 

I think he knew this because he picked the baggie back up and shook a little bit out onto the little plateau between his thumb and pointer finger. “You can have a bump first.”

I stared at the white powder. My fucking salvation. I rubbed my nose and leaned in, hardly believing this was happening. It was so close, so perfect. I was giddy, excited. I wanted to fall to my knees and thank Taylor for this. For giving it to me early. It was like a gift from God.
 

“What the fuck is this?” Rhett’s angry voice boomed around us. My head whipped around to see him standing there in the doorway, looking perfect in a dark blue suit.
 

“Rhett,” I whispered the word. He couldn’t have been real.
 

Taylor took a step back, dropping his hand, letting the powder fall to the floor.
 

“No!” I shouted, lunging for his hand, but it was gone, scattering out in non-existent particles. I gripped his arm. “Please, give me more!"

“What the fuck is going on?” Rhett’s voice boomed again, but I had stopped paying attention to him. I was on my knees staring up at Taylor. He had to give me what I wanted. He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t just take it away. I couldn’t wait another day, not when I had been so close to having it.
 

“Daddy, the coke, please.”

Taylor shoved me backward and I twisted awkwardly hitting my back against the bedframe.
 

“It’s not what it looks like, son.” Taylor took a step toward Rhett holding out his hands.
 

“Then what the fuck is it? Why is she naked? Why—” He pushed his way past Taylor and came toward me. “What happened?” He was staring at my stomach.
 

I opened my mouth, but Taylor cut me off. “She left the other day and when she came back she had those.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why is she naked?” His eyes were wild. “Why are you naked, Faye?” He jerked a hand through his perfectly styled hair ruffling it. “Why was she asking you for coke, dad?”

“Calm down son, just calm down okay? Let’s go down stairs and I’ll tell you everything.”
 

Rhett shook his head. His face was red, his eyes everywhere, going back and forth between Taylor and I. “No. Tell me what happened.”

I knew this was my chance. It was my chance to tell the truth. My chance where someone could actually believe me. It could happen. I could escape this life. This house of horrors that had become my home.
 

“He—”

“She’s a cocaine addict, Rhett.” Taylor cut me off. His voice was sad, disappointed. Like I was the cause of that disappointment.
 

“What?” Rhett stared down at me confused. “And you were just what? Giving her some? While she’s fucking naked?” He jerked his gaze away from me and shoved both of his palms against Taylor’s bare chest, forcing him to stumble backward and bump into the dark wood dresser that held a big flat screen TV. “Were you going to fuck her?” he shouted. “Have you been fucking her?” He made a fist and swung before Taylor could answer. Taylor didn’t even have a chance to move out of the way. Rhett’s fist caught him right in the cheek, causing a split just under his eye.