Dune Point {Spencer Reid x Reader}

• Ten •

This time when you woke up, you couldn't even begin to quantify how much pain you were in. Your eyes, though, were finally able to fixate on something. There was no way your head could pick itself up, so you kept your gaze fixed downward.

You weren't on the ground anymore. Instead you were seated on a plastic chair, one of those white folding ones. Well, what you could see of it was white. The parts of the seat that your butt and thighs covered were coated in your blood.

You were covered in nothing but your bra and underwear. Even your jewelry was gone.

It felt uncomfortable to sit on your bottom, and your insides felt like they were on fire.

Oh my god.

Before you could let your worries get the best of you, the door to wherever you were swung open.

Marcus marched over to your chair and tugged your hair back so that you were now facing the dim, yet blinding lights above you, causing you to groan in pain. He crouched down and whispered in your ear, "Bet you wish you hadn't slept with that genius FBI agent now, huh doll?" His voice felt uncomfortably hot against your neck.

"What the fuck did you do to me you son of a bitch" You spat at him.
"Don't worry, doll. I made it so you're mine, and only mine. No one else gets to have you. And I don't take very kindly to 'no'."

Then you realized something. You realized why.
"This is all because I broke off our arrangement, isn't it?"
"You never broke off shit. You cheated on me, you slut."

Before you could offer up a rebuttal, Marcus stood up and pulled your hair so hard, the chair you were tied to fell on its backside with you in it, knocking the wind out of you.

"You always liked being tied up, didn't you, doll." His domineering tone felt nothing like it used to. The voice that used to send shivers down your spine in the best way no longer felt the same. The voice that made you cower to his dominance now made you want to reject it completely.

Now, you shivered and cowered out of fear, not submission.

~ • ~

"Marcus," You approached your companion in the break room. The man turned around at your voice with a smirk. "Hey, doll," he said in his low, husky voice.

You took a deep sigh, preparing for the weight of what was about to come."We need break off this arrangement." You stated matter-of-factly.
"Arrangement?" He echoed. "Two years, and this is still an 'arrangement' to you?" He didn't sound offended, not nervous, not sad. He sounded sure of himself that no matter what, he was never going to let you go.

"Why wouldn't it be?" You put up your best front, trying to mask your terror and the tremble in your voice.
"Well, I'd think our... situation... is a little more intimate than just some 'arrangement.'" You knew what he was doing. He was repeating the word to try and get you to see any fault in it. But you had no intention of letting go of this topic until you'd come out the winner.

"Marcus, you're supposed to take care of me. Especially afterward. Especially after we do such... intense things." You tried your hardest not to let your memory go back that far.

"Tell me, doll, what 'things'?" He was trying to get you to remember. Remember how much he used to pleasure you. But now all those memories have been tainted by your last few encounters.