Page 8 of Retrograde

I breathe loudly through my nose, then open my eyes to meet his intent ones.

“You’re going to hurt me regardless,” I point out, my voice shaking.

He just shrugs, not contradicting me. Everything inside me tightens.

This can’t be happening. Anything else but this.

“Do you really think it’s smart to make me repeat myself, Hotshot?”

Please let me die. Please let me die now. Please.

“Give me a fucking minute!”

My body feels shapeless, heat and cold crashing through it in waves.

“I have. And now you’re seriously starting to piss me off. But maybe it’s my fault.” He steps closer to me, advancing upon me, towering over me. “Maybe I just haven’t motivated you properly. Do as I say now, or I’ll hurt your boyfriend and make you watch.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Does that mean you don’t care if I hurt him?” He raises his eyebrows at me knowingly.

My mind goes into overdrive, its cogs spinning frantically without rendering any coherent thoughts, any strategy, anything resembling a way out.

Something in my expression seems to answer his question because he nods curtly, satisfied. “Just as I thought. I’ll start by breaking his fingers one by one for each time you make me repeat myself from now on. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes,” I reply, my teeth chattering. “D-don’t.”

I close my trembling fingers around the fabric of my top and tug it over my head.

“There you go. Good girl.” Aron’s voice drips with sarcasm.

I undo my belt and let my trousers slide down to my ankles. Mechanically, I step out of them and my shoes.

“See? What a good fucking girl.”

“G-go fuck yourself.”

“You know.” His gaze sweeps over my body slowly, drinking in every inch of me. “After, I just might. But you’re not done yet.”

His words throw me off. Even if I can’t pinpoint what, something’s not adding up. But I’m too panicked to figure it out.

I drag my sports bra over my head. Drop it to the ground.

Aron’s eyes are on my breasts. He’s biting his lip and hardly even blinking.

It’s getting impossible to breathe again.

The walls are closing in.

“Don’t make me say it, Riley.”

My vision blurs, the pressure in my temples rising with rushing blood.

Corrado. I must do this.

I yank my panties down. Then I cover my chest and my crotch with my hands as if he hasn’t seen all of me already. I hang my head.

“Excellent.” The bastard rubs his hands. “Now, hold on to the bars and bend over. Legs apart.”