Grind (ENGLISH)

Fingers

-Celeste.-

Time seemed to stop, along with the ticking of the clock hands above her.

Even the blood in her veins seemed to stop, along with her heartbeat: everything stopped, but only for an instant.

The menacing and distant footsteps continued, getting closer and closer to her, stopping dangerously a few inches from her back, while two large hands, calloused and warm, encircled her soft hips, bringing them close to that stoic body, so straight and severe.

Celeste swallowed, feeling herself pressed against a large and hot chest, feeling those thick fingers gently slide over her, savoring every inch of her curves, so soft, but ruined by their own abuse.

Her scarred mouth twisted with a puff as a finger pressed particularly hard on one of the hidden bruises, sending a painful sensation all over her body, like needles slowly sticking into her flesh.

She felt shivering when the cold tip of that man's nose made its way into the hollow of her neck, smelling it as if it were a rare flower, gently kissing her skin with his moist mouth, venturing to playfully lick a piece with his tongue, as if he wanted to savor her, enticed by her fragrance.

Although she herself was a woman of medium height, compared to him she was almost like a child, reaching her head to his pectorals, feeling his not quite erect member press against her lower back, right above the sacrum.

She heard him exhale heavily, almost in a trembling tone.

-Risotto...- she seemed to whine: she wouldn't be able to endure another abuse, especially not after the previous evening and what had happened just before.

She felt that if he had even touched her once again, she would have gone completely crazy.

Her eyes wandered over the set of kitchen knives in front of her and a thought flashed through her head: she could use those, she could defend herself; she could have killed him.

She would then run away from the house, having obviously stolen the keys to the door, and she would finally be able to run free, away from them, safe from those monsters!

They would have found her the very next day, if not them, other henchmen, and they would have skinned her alive, for trying to challenge their boss.

She would have been killed by Risotto himself, grabbing her thin wrist before she could even deliver her initial blow, and then snatch the weapon from her hands and use it himself against her.

She mentally shook her head: no, attacking him would have been completely useless and even more risky than what he was already experiencing. She realized that the more she fought and resisted, the more injuries and abuses she received.

One day or another they would break all the bones in her body, sooner or later they would burn her skin, make her scalp, tear off her nails. The solution was not to resist, to surrender completely to them: to let them do it. Indulge them, perhaps?

If she had supported them, little by little they would have trusted them more and more, maybe... and maybe she would be able to convince them to let her go, or leave her less and less guarded, until she was completely alone in the house one day, in order to finally be able to run away and put all the blame on them!

She let herself smile a little: she had found the solution; she had to pretend that she had completely given up and actually enjoyed their attention. Only in this way would she be able to gain their trust and a possible way out.

She just had to learn to endure those abuses, to pretend to love their touches, to hold back the gagging at their comments and the tears at their kisses. She had to do it, she had to get away from that place, she had to get away from their boss.