Chapter 7: What Have I Done?

Ariane

I am obsessed with all these unknown, incredible, voluptuous... sensational sensations. No word seems sufficient to describe what I feel. It’s dizzying. My body is filled with an intense fire, a blaze that consumes each of my cells. And I don’t know if it seeks to be extinguished... or to spread, over and over, across the endings of my nervous system. My body no longer belongs to me.

I feel his fingers lingering on my breasts, which tighten, responding eagerly to his caresses. They beg, plead, crave. I am lost. What is my name? Where am I? Who am I? All I know is this need. This irrepressible need to feel his hands, his skin, his warmth again.

A part of me screams in rage. The other moans in desire.

I breathe in gasps, my chest rising frantically. I am on fire. His hand slides to the inside of my thighs, then slowly rises. Too slowly. I involuntarily arch my back, panting, shivering. His fingers brush against my already wet center. My juice gushes like a burning cascade, flooding his fingers which he brings to his lips to lick and savor.

— You are soaked for me. For my cock. Let me fill you tonight, let me bury myself deep inside you. Taste you. Suck you. I promise, you will have the best night of your life...

My mind is adrift.

And then, suddenly, everything shifts.

— I told you that all women are whores. So tell me your price. How much do you want to spend the night with me?

I freeze.

My hand moves on its own to slap him, but he catches it mid-air, placing a mocking, cold kiss on it.

— Don’t get angry, I’m not judging you. We both want this.

— Idiot! Crook! Bastard! Didn’t your mother teach you how to talk to a woman?

— This is the last time you try to hit me, my dear.

I try to pull away, but he grabs me with a quiet strength and sits me on his lap. I feel his hard virility through his pants. My heart races.

— Let me go. I won’t stay another minute with a primitive man like you!

I struggle. I hit him. I scratch him. He doesn’t move an inch. I’m like a doll in his arms. He pulls out his phone.

— Get ready, we’re taking off tonight. And I won’t be alone.

He hangs up, then calls a certain John.

— Smith, I’m going to have to leave you. I’m heading out tonight with my package.

— Did you two agree?

— No.

— Yes.

We answer at the same time, he and I.

I scream.

— I’m not going anywhere! You’re insane! You can’t kidnap me!

— I’m not asking for your opinion, you will follow me. Whether you like it or not.

John tries to calm him down.

— If she doesn’t want to, you can always have fun with the girls I introduced you to.

— I don’t want anyone else. I already have everything I need.

— Don’t let him take me! Help! Marianne! Marianne! Where are you?!

I struggle with all my strength, but he lifts me and places me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I pound on his back with my fists.

No one reacts. No one says anything. Marianne runs behind us, frantic.

— Please! Forgive him! She doesn’t know what she’s saying! She has only me! She’s an orphan!

I am stunned. What is she talking about? Why is she saying this?

— Where are you taking me?!

— You’ll see, my beauty.

He continues to walk, relentless. Marianne is crying, running, pleading.

— Auracio! Please, she’s like my sister, I beg you, let her go.

He stops for a moment, turns around, still carrying me over his shoulder.

— I’m leaving with her. It’s up to you if you want to come with us. She is mine now. And I’ll do what I want with her.

He reaches the car, opens the door for me, and literally throws me onto the back seat. I try to get up, but he climbs in and immediately settles me on his lap. Like a baby. Marianne sits across from us, in tears. A man gets in next to her.

— Is everything ready for takeoff? Auracio asks.

— Yes, boss.

— Takeoff?! I’m not going anywhere with you! You’re completely insane!

— You’re in my world, Ariane. And in my world, I am the king.

— You think you scare me? Pff... poor guy, you’re just an old pervert!

— Hahaha, you have quite a tongue. But I’ll make you use it for other purposes.

He begins to stroke my thigh, slowly, openly. I flinch.

— Don’t touch me! Aren’t you ashamed? In front of everyone?

— It’s just your friend and my right-hand man. So no, I’m not ashamed.

— Idiot. Insolent. Savage. Imp…

I don’t have time to finish before his lips crash onto mine in a brutal kiss. His tongue forces its way in, finds mine, captures it, devours it. It’s savage. Overwhelming. And I hate my body for responding.

I struggle even harder, but he holds me tighter. His hand glides, caresses, explores. I feel sullied, torn between desire and refusal. I want to slap him, scream that he is nothing but a monster. But my movements are weak, disordered.

— I’m telling you, he whispers against my mouth, I will make you addicted. You will beg me to take you.

— Never. You’re dreaming.

He holds me as if I were a treasure he refuses to let go. And I feel that cold terror growing within me: what if he is right?