Eluded by Lyra Parish Page A

clit and rubbed
slightly, then pulled away. With a forceful grip, he spread my legs
open wide and slid his warm tongue between my slit, flicking my
clit with the tip of his tongue before he pulled away. Then he
repeated the motion again, but slowly inserted his finger inside of
me as he continued with his tongue.
    I hated every second of his touch.
He was stealing this from me, and though my body craved attention
from Henry, I didn't want it from Derrick. The thoughts of what
were going through my head—hopelessness, disgust, hatred— made me
want to cry. A man who had no soul and didn’t care or respect women
was having his way with me, and I couldn't make him stop. I had no
say and with each movement, I died a little more inside.
Eventually, I would be numb.
    He continued with the same motions
and forced me to the edge of climax.
    "Come for me, slut," he whispered
between my legs as he slipped his hands under my ass and pushed me
harder into his face. When I was about to come, he pulled away.
Slamming his dick into me, he filled me with every inch of him. He
didn't go slow, or easy, but fucked me hard and fast. After
flipping me over onto all fours, he fucked me with so much force I
thought it might rip me in two, and I wanted him to. But I took it.
I had to no choice. I couldn't fight him. He was too strong, and if
I disobeyed him, he'd kill me. I couldn't cry out, and I was
thankful for the blindfold that allowed me to hide the pain in my
eyes.
    When I thought I couldn't take
anymore, he came inside of me and then pushed me from him. The
whole experience left me raw and broken.
    "Take off the blindfold," he said,
with a sinister tone.
    When I did, I saw the black room
was full of men . . . watching. I felt like my world was imploding
in on itself. I wanted to run away. I wanted to scream out in
horror as I began to emotionally crumble. Hate, frustration,
embarrassment, degradation—it hit me all at once, and I wasn't sure
I would stay in control. Helplessness was one of the worst feelings
in the world, but if I tried anything, I knew the end result.
Derrick would probably enjoy killing me in front of an audience; he
got off on being gruesome in front of people.
    Before I completely lost control,
I saw one person in the crowd of strangers who I recognized,
dressed in black lingerie almost identical to the white that I wore
earlier.
    Sophie.
    As the peanut gallery of perverts
exited, each handed Derrick a wad of cash as he grinned with greed
and counted every dollar. I closed my eyes as I leaned against the
wall, wishing I could melt into the carpet and disappear. If
embarrassment could kill . . .
    I scanned the room as the chatter
faded and saw no one was left except for Sophie and Derrick. He
shut the door and locked it behind him, then came to me. I looked
up into his eyes, because that was what he loved and craved, and
tried to conjure as much loathing and hate that I could. He placed
a hand on the wall above my head and leaned down. Warm breath on my
skin made me cringe. As he kissed up my neck, he whispered in my
ear, "You did good, Lauren. They loved it, and I know you enjoyed
the attention of all those eyes. Don't worry though, I'll take care
of you later."
    His hands were the last things I
wanted on me. I didn't want to be finished later, I just
wanted a shower and to sleep in a real bed. I needed a way to
forget about this. He threw a set of white bra and panties on the
floor, and I picked them up in a hurry. After I was dressed,
Derrick grabbed my arm and pushed me to Sophie until we stood side
by side.
    "My own personal Heaven and Hell.
Fucking love it."
    The white and the black . . . it
all made perfect sense. As Derrick turned around, Sophie rolled her
eyes, then made a quick slitting of the throat motion. She was
infuriated. When he about-faced, he wore a wide smile as he placed
his hands in his pockets. On any other person, it might have been
seen as a harmless gesture, but I had learned in the last day