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“What are you going to do with me?” My whisper sounds defeated, weak.
He walks towards me, wearing nothing but his low cut jeans and his white mask. Every muscle moves when he does, flexing under each flicker of motion. His hand traces over the back of my neck before he pulls me into him. His touch is soft, but not enough that I would say he himself is. Running the tip of his nose down my jaw line, up under my ear, he inhales deeply. “Anything I want.”
My bottom lip begins to tremble before I catch it in my teeth. His warm breath trickles over my cheek, leaving the scent of mint behind, and warm lips glide over the thin flesh of my neck, sending goosebumps to break out everywhere. “You want it, give up now.”
My eyes drift closed as I tilt my head, before realizing that I had shown an inkling that I liked it. His deep chuckle vibrates against my chest. I swallow. “You want what you want, Millie.” His hands float over my nipples, down my tensed torso, and over my clit. His fingers slip between my folds before sinking one inside of me. “You wanna be fucked by an angel?”
My eyes slowly open and find his instantly, deep blue depths, the color of the Atlantic Ocean, and just like the Atlantic Ocean, there’s ice in his stare. Up close, I notice that it isn’t a teardrop which sits under his eye, but a red cross sitting upside down. It’s the sign of the Antichrist, and my skin crawls at the proximity of him.
“I’ll tell you something, nun, the devil doesn’t come as himself.” He steps towards me until my back collides with the wall. His hands wrap around my thighs, picking me up from the ground and wrapping my legs around his waist. Dropping his head into the crook of my neck, the slick tip of his tongue snakes over my prominent collarbone. “He comes as an angel.” Grinding his groin into me, the soft feathers of the angel wings thrust over my back. “Mmmm,” he growls deep in the crook of my neck. “There’s one hundred different ways I can make you feel thoroughly fucked without actually fucking you.”
He drops me back to my feet and I swallow, my palms pressing against the cold dead concrete wall. Gripping onto my wrists, he spins me around so my chest is now pressing against the wall and my back is to his front. His foot slips between my legs, kicking each of them wide, and stretching me out. Wrapping my hair around his fist, he jolts my head back until my scalp stings from my hair being ripped from their roots. I clench my eyes closed.
“I can make you feel as dirty on the inside as you look on the outside.” Spinning me around to face him again, his hands wrap around the back of my thighs as he lifts me off the ground. Dropping my hands to his shoulders, my chest contracts and my limbs feel as though they’re falling apart. I can feel myself slowly lose grip on my sanity. Slowly, each and every single part of who I was and what I knew, would soon mean nothing.
“Let me see you,” I manage to squeeze out in the middle of my fear.
He laughs, dropping me back to the ground. “Tsk tsk, that’s never been done.” He begins stepping backwards until he’s directly under the string that hangs from the light. Reaching up, he pulls. My vision is cut and darkness fills the cell.
“What’re you doing?” I whisper into the inky obscurity, shuffling in my spot. I feel his body press against mine again with nothing in our silence but the soft whispering of our breaths. His warm lips cascade over mine softly, sending tingles under my skin. He took his mask off. His skin is smooth and his lips feel pouty.
“This, me, you…” he begins, his groin pressing into me. “Is about you… nothing else, no one else.” He pauses, the softness of his cheeks sliding over mine ever so gently.
Smooth, his skin is so damn smooth. He takes my hand in his and presses my palm against his hard chest before sliding it down his front gently. Inch by inch, the muscles sitting under his skin lumps over my palm. My hand glides down his chest and a sob escapes me again. I’m at a crossroads inside my head, and I don’t know which way is right. I’m losing touch with what is good and what is evil. I feel as though I’m standing in front of a furnace as it slowly heats my skin, and if I stand there too long, I’ll burst into flames—but I can’t move and I don’t think I want to.
He continues his torture, placing me on the ground where his fingers grip around the outside of my thighs and his warm tongue slithers over my most sensitive part. My back arches at the invasion as my mind screams with falling tears and my body throbs with need. His tongue presses against me, licking my clit with not just the tip, but with his whole tongue. My fingers grip onto the cold cement floor.
“You see this?” he murmurs against my inner thigh. “This is exactly why you’re here, nun. You like it, you crave it, and that is exactly why we are going to ruin you.”
MILLIE “Day 4”
My skin itches from the grainy cobble underneath me and I pull myself up onto my elbows. The burn firing around my elbow is excruciating, and I know that I can sleep on the mattress, but I really don’t want to. My eyes drift back to the block of foam, seeing the dark red stains speckled across the fabric, and I wince. I’d bet money that more than one life was taken on that thing, so there’s no way I’ll lie on that.
I clear my vision. Four days. Four days and a deep part inside of me has snapped beyond repair. I find myself slowly beginning to realize that there may just be no coming back for me. The feathered wings that hang off my back are covered in dirt and scuff marks couldn’t be more appropriate for my current situation. The walls inside my mind are caving in on me as each second passes. Each fleeting minute of the silent clock takes away a piece of my soul with it, leaving me with the empty gaping hole from its departure. I don’t want to feel. Like a big gaping hole of black abyss. Shutting my eyes, I pray that this torture will end.
Hail Mary, full of grace.
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.
This place is the circle of nothingness where time stands still. Nothing matters here—time, day, nothing. I shut my eyes and let blackness cloak me as I wrap my arms around myself protectively and hum myself to sleep.
A bloodcurdling scream echoes through the dark hallway and I shoot up from my sleep, standing to my feet.
“Please,” a man pleads. “Please, I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”
The rushing blood pulsing through my body pounds heavily behind my ears as my breathing shallows. Tiptoeing towards my cell door, I place my hand over my mouth to calm my breathing. Reaching for the cell bars, I grasp the thin cold metal in my hand and peek out towards the ruckus.
