33 Chapter 33rd

Chris paused, surprised, his lips twitching lightly as they framed the word I had just spoken. Then, taking it in, a muffled snicker followed:

"Excuse me?"

I braced internally as I stared him back, but said nothing – not yet. Courage was a depletable gauge, I gave it time to refill. My silence was both an affront and an encouragement, and Chris let it linger for a minute, before demanding outright sharply:

"Do as I say."

"In case you didn't hear it the first time…" there it was – gauge filled "…I said NO!"

"Abby…" he chuckled threateningly, preparing what he was going to say.

"You're gonna have to make me!" I interpolated before he had had the time to disturb me further "…but I guess that's what you're here for anyway, huh?"

And I shot him a stare and held it there for enough time to see the muscles of his jaw stiffen, affected at last. A pride flame of rage lit up my dismaying heart, making it feel alive again, as if finally – finally I had done something right.

Then it came – a slap. The sound of which filled the air.

I should have seen it coming, and yet I didn't: it threw me off, and dammit, it stung! I panted some: my body, my panic, adrenaline… I was so on the edge, everything inside me moved in a haste. That haste made me almost insensitive… almost hardy! I was angrier than I was hurt!

I turned my jolted head back to stare at him again, boiling with indignation… but there was nothing there to appeal to, not anymore. He only kneeled there, replying my stare with a justified, callous look. My pained expression wouldn't move him, there was no remorse to be felt, no sign of his previous speech of not wanting to hurt me.

Perhaps I'd used up all his patience already… or perhaps it was nothing to do with that: It was just a different moment, a different stage in the sick amusement he was to derive from torturing me – the moment of not wanting to hurt me, of sparing the delicate flesh and leaving it 'untarnished' as he himself put it, was merely a buildup for here, for this muffled little room, for the mattress on the floor and him kneeling over me. In here, all gloves were off, the fight was on, everything was permitted.

His fixed blue eyes watched me imperatively, impassive, keen on having his way. There was nothing there but resolve, one eyebrow rising slightly over the other, excited for the match to come:

"Do… as you're told." He commanded more firmly, more decidedly.

I paused and mused for a while, like the coward that I was… I paused and I stared, letting the corners of his mouth twitch as he entertained the idea that I'd given in and would obey… but vexation still dripped. My cheek still ached.

"Abby…" he breathed out, waiting "…take off your clothes…" Another pause, a shorter one – more emphatic, less amused: "…now!"

"NO!" I shouted, almost salivating from the thrill of letting that word bravely out, giving my face to whatever flail he thought he could inflict to buy my submission.

Predictably, another slap followed, one so strong that I fell on my side, immediately holding the now twice punished cheek. It burned hot, and the pain throbbed down my jaw… but I was still alive. It wasn't so bad – the pain. And the humiliation, the shame, the regret… all those tiny demon voices in my brain were silenced by my penitence!

I sat up again, scowling fiercely into his eyes as this time fury – and not fear – made my breathing heavy.

"How about now?" he dryly suggested, watching me from the tranquil superiority of his height. So unnerving… that look drove something inside me to break. Next thing I knew I had flung myself over him:

"Murderer!! You murderer!!" I screamed as I frantically threw punches ahead. "You evil, you savage…son of a…"

Short-lived fit. Chris grabbed me by the arms and pushed me back onto the mattress, holding me there.

"GET OFF ME!" I struggled as he secured my wrists "HELP!!"

I tried to move, my legs tried to find enough room to kick him, but couldn't. Furthermore, I hurt myself as I pulled against the firmness of his grip, which only prompted me to grow more desperate.

As I writhed about in the limited space between his knees, as I struggled and as we fought, I realized that, amidst the panting and the securing… he smiled. It sent a chill up my spine, one that robbed me of resolve, cooling off my rage and making me suddenly aware of how very tired I was – and of how much more I'd need in order to succeed. The air grew thicker, my arms grew heavy – heavier by the second, until all I could do was attempt a single powerful pull before having to stop for air, then another… until the gaps for air became bigger and bigger, Chris watching it patiently, firmly holding, steadily keeping me as I wearied myself, until I couldn't pull anymore.

Now watched by my bulging wide eyes, he contained his thrill a little better, concealing it from his lips as he slowly let go of my arms, betting there was little fight left in them but still testing it, still keeping a close distance with his hands open, prepped to capture me back in case of a jerk. I threw none – I didn't move a single muscle, contaminated by that halting carefulness he displayed. When a full second had elapsed without any reaction from my part, some amusement lightened up his face. Declaring that battle won, he sat up straighter, supported by his knees, took a long sigh and breathed in more calmly, resting from the commotion while watching my defeat with an expression of certain triumph. We locked eyes during that expression – and what a strange exchange that was… what myriad of unspoken words, broken expectations, and opposing emotions. Then, a sigh – the closing of a chapter, and time to claim his prize. He took his hands to his belt, and eyes still locked in mine, he begun to undo the buckle.