The voice that never fucking left me alone.
“Strip,” he ordered, his rough voice loud in my head. Teeth biting down on the knife’s handle, I hissed, and my eyes rolled back. In seconds I’d ripped off my cut.
“All of them, boy,” he growled, and I heard the crack of his leather belt follow the command.
My cock throbbed and tested the zipper of my leathers. Reaching down, my hands slammed to cup it in my hands. I squeezed and squeezed harder again, my fist iron-tight until my legs shook, then a roar tore from my throat.
“All of them, boy,” he demanded again. “Get all of them gone.”
Releasing my granite cock, I snapped the button of the leathers, yanking them apart and wrenched them down my legs.
My shoulders tightened and my chest heaved waiting for the next command. My hands were balled into fists at my side, my untouched cock aching, hard and waiting.
My eyes were shut, my teeth gripping harder on the blade, when the voice suddenly commanded, “Get on the floor.”
My legs dropped from beneath me onto the small hatch built into my cabin’s floor. I grabbed the blade from my mouth, and with my other hand, took hold of my dick. Curling my fingers around my flesh, I let my long nails dig in, hissing at the flash of blinding pain.
I moaned. I moaned loud and my hips thrust forward. My hand started to move; back and forth, back and forth. It hurt. It burned… it felt so fucking good.
This was what I needed.
This was what I fucking needed.
My mouth dropped open as my hand worked faster. My body tensed as I felt the fire spiking up my spine. The pressure built in my balls. But I couldn’t come. It was there. The fire, the flames needing to get out. But I needed… I needed…
In a flash, the steel blade cut down my thigh, the sharp edge slicing into my flesh. Blood pooled at the wound, as the voice hissed, “One.” He counted me on with each strike. “Two.” My hand worked faster and faster up and down my dick, my sharp nails clawing into my thin skin. “Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…” I hunched over, my breath hissing through my gritted teeth as the voice, and the blade’s deep strikes, built me higher and higher. “Ten,” the voice called louder, blood dripping down my thighs and onto the hatch.
Body tensing, I braced for the final command. My hand squeezed tight, nails shredding my cock, the blade stabbing deep into my thigh. Then the voice thundered, “ELEVEN!” With a rush of pure heat, every muscle inside my body roared with fire. My bones shook with pent up rage, and with a pained scream, I came. I came so fucking hard that my head threw back and my blade clattered to the floor.
I fought to breathe, my exhausted body slumping forward. But when I caught my breath, the usual slam of nausea rolled in my stomach, my body lurching to the side as I wretched into the waiting bucket beside me.
When there was nothing left in my stomach, the emptiness was replaced with the rush of shame I felt every night. Every night after I’d cut myself, purged and obeyed his voice.
My head hung as I felt cum on my legs, mixing with the blood on the floor beneath me. Shifting my aching tired body, I wrapped my arms around my waist and fell down to lie on the floor. Sucking in a stuttered breath, my chest wheezing from my release, I laid over the hatch on the hard cold floor. I closed my eyes, and tried my best to sleep.
His voice, inside my head, quiet for now.
Chapter Four
Maddie
I loved to draw.
It was something I had discovered in my many nights spent alone in my bedroom.
And I was good. At least I thought I was. But more than that, it was my escape. I got to live out the fantasy life I had dreamed for myself, if my upbringing had been different… if I were different.