Chapter 8
Holly was shocked into awareness from the frigid water splashed across her body. Her eyes popped open, and again she struggled to lift her head, but the pain made the movement tenuous and difficult. Instinctively, she drew in a deep breath, a natural reaction to being dowsed with the icy liquid. Holly was still completely unaware of where she was and barely able to put the pieces back together as to what had happened. It all came rushing back when she heard his voice: “Time to get up bitch.”
Instantly, flashes of her apartment building, Trent rushing her, furious with her; the fight in the alley way, the struggle, fighting him, the trunk of the car, the punch to her face, Trent leaning over her…Trent choking her - all of the vivid images came flooding back. Now the pain from her jaw resurfaced. She felt new pains too, in her lower leg, her waist…
Just as quickly as the images flashed back in her mind like a choppy movie reel, the feelings surged back as well; the fear, anxiety, rushes of adrenaline, fight or flight… the terror, and hearing Trent’s voice reinforced that she was still in trouble. She tried to move her arms and her legs… she couldn’t… why? There was something terribly, terribly wrong.
Holly again tried to move her head, water dripping down her terror stricken face. Lifting it was hard so she looked from left to right, trying to gauge if Trent was still standing near her… leaning over her. It was too dark to see him clearly… there were still just shadows.
She called out to him, “T ttttrent?” her teeth chattering from the chill of the cold water and the brisk temperature in the room. Her body shivered. There was no answer.
Holly tried her best to listen to everything happening around her. She couldn’t count on her eyes to help her… there were no footsteps to be heard… Holly closed her eyes, putting all her energy into listening as attentively as possible; past the dripping noise, past the whispery sounds and chilling breeze coming from what she assumed was a cracked window.
Holly was listening for footsteps, breathing… any sound that would indicate where Trent was… if he was still in the room with her.
There were no footsteps… no sounds of breathing… no more words .All was quiet with the exception of the dull background noise seeping in from what lay outside the abandoned house.
Then he was there. She could feel his warm breath against the cool of her frigid skin. He didn’t speak. Holly could feel his eyes on her, and her heart started to race even faster, her breath quickening…
Trent had the advantage. He knew the layout of the room. He knew Holly couldn’t see him. He could do what he wanted to her and there was nothing she could do about it. Her arms and legs bound with silken ties, skillfully tied into sailors’ knots. Standing over Holly - so helpless, so petrified - gave Trent the biggest thrill… it was turning him on… sexually… the engorged curve in the crotch of his pants reflecting the perverted thoughts in his head…
Trent struck a match; the red dancing flame placed close enough to his face to cast a ghostly shadow.
Holly heard the noise and could smell the sulfur. Her eyes previously tightly shut now slowly opened. Now she knew exactly where Trent was… standing very near where she lay. Holly’s eye’s bucked; focused like a deer in headlights… waves of terror washing over her body.
Trent still didn’t speak… he just smiled a dangerous, sinister smile…
He blew out the light and Holly was inexplicably cast into utter darkness again. This time she didn’t close her eyes. She tried to gauge his movement, to see if indeed he was moving or whether he was still standing near her. She lost him in the darkness.
A few moments later, the sound of a match striking, the pungent smell of sulfur…
Holly immediately looked to see which direction the light was coming from. Trent was at the foot of the bed. This time when the red flames lit the stick of the match, Trent held it out in front of him. The light danced in Holly’s eyes… unable to make out the carrier of the match although she knew exactly who it was… just the dancing light.
As the match burned feverishly, spawned by the gentle wind moving through the abandoned house, Trent turned the match upside down; causing the flame to momentarily burn brighter. Then he dropped it onto the mattress where Holly lay.
Holly saw the flame falling toward her. Restrained, she knew there was a chance it would fall and burn her. The fire looked as if it was descending in slow motion; Holly’s eyes following the reddish yellow trail down toward where her legs were tightly bound. She instinctively flailed, trying to get out of the way of the heated flame.
“Oh God!” Holly screamed, watching as the flame flickered as though it had found fresh kindling to continue its burn.
Even though Holly’s legs were tied, she still tried to move, to somehow keep her legs away from the flickering fire.
Holly couldn’t actually see past the length of her body to know if the flame had actually caught. She tried to raise her head but again her movement was restricted.
Craning her neck and peering over her breasts, Holly could see the faintest hint of smoke beginning to rise from where Trent had dropped the match.
“Trent, please!” she begged.
The match missed her leg ever so slightly and fell to the mattress beneath her. Holly’s state of panic rose. She was afraid whatever she was on was flammable and that the flame would quickly spread.
And at that instant, there was another slight gust of wind, causing the smoke to blow and billow across the darkened room. Trent laughed even harder. He didn’t want to burn her, he just wanted to torture her… to scare her.
Suddenly, Trent slammed his hands down on the mattress startling Holly and laughing boisterously. He made sure the flicker of fire left was completely doused.
And then, it was dark again; the smell of smoke and sulfur hanging heavily in the air.
Holly didn’t know what to do. ‘Why is he doing this to me,’ she thought to herself. As the panic continued to rise, now that she was again enveloped in darkness, tears began to fall from her eyes. She was helpless and she knew it. Trent was totally in control and she knew that too. The only thing Holly could think to do was pray. ‘God please help me…” was her only thought.
Trent loved seeing the fear in Holly’s eyes, seeing her flailing like a fish fresh out of the water. The look on her face when he dropped the match was priceless and made Trent laugh out loud. He couldn’t help it. He was going to make her pay. Now that he had her exactly where he wanted her, Trent planned to have his way with her.
He struck another match.
‘Oh God… not again,” Holly thought to herself as she heard the now all too familiar strike and the heightened smell of sulfur lacing the air.
But this time, Trent didn’t move the lit match toward Holly. Instead, he moved stealthily to the head of the bed lighting a large candle resting on a table close to the head of the bed. The candlelight slightly illuminated the room; casting long shadows from the furniture that had been recklessly left abandoned in the once vacant house.
Trent moved slowly back to the foot of the bed. For a moment he stood there, quietly staring down at Holly.
Holly tried to speak; the taste of Trent’s blood still fresh in her mouth, some now drying on her lips.
“Trent, I’m begging you… please let me go!”
Fresh tears welled in Holly’s eyes. She couldn’t see him completely, but she knew he was there and heard her cries.
Initially Trent ignored her, not dignifying her cries or pleas with a response. Then he spoke.
“Give me one good reason why I should let you go Ms. Holly?” He said in a high-pitched sarcastic tone, mocking her. Thoughts of his father and mother flashing through his mind; other women Trent felt had wronged him; too high and mighty for their own good, and who failed to recognize the ‘catch’ he really was. Holly was just like the rest of those high-falooting bitches and needed to be taken down a peg or two. Trent knew he was just the man to do it.
“What
have you ever done for me?” Trent continued; his private thoughts pervading his conversation with his captive. He was not speaking directly to Holly at all anymore.
“You ain’t no different than any other bitch…thinking you can just say anything to a man; do anything to a man, and he’ll just take it,” he went on. All of the sophistication Trent previously displayed that Holly had been so attracted to was now replaced by someone or something else she didn’t recognize.
“What…” he went on, circling the bed as he spoke. “You think you’re too good for me? You think you too good for me, Holly? I ain’t no broke motherfucker… I ain’t no bitch type nigger…huh…” Trent went on, venting his frustration.
“I’m educated, smart, a gentleman; I have a job; a fuckin’ good ass job! I take good care of mine, hell. I am all the things you bitches say you want, but you didn’t want me, did you Ms. Holly?”
He circled the bed, slowly and deliberately; the tension in the breezy room heightening with Trent’s every step.
“I did all the right things - wined you… dined you… treated your trick ass like a queen and you still had the sheer audacity to dump me? Me!?!”
Trent started to pace back and forth like a caged animal, his anger rising with every word uttered. The sense of panic Holly was feeling punctuated with his distinctly enunciated words.
“I don’t know who the fuck you thought you was dealing with but I am Trent Morrison the motherfucking III, bitch.”
“I ain’t nothing like them punk, pussy type motherfuckers you must’ve dealt with in the past. You don’t get to just tell me no. It ain’t that type of party bitch...”
Trent became very quiet… contemplative. He was now standing at the foot of the bed staring down at Holly. Slowly, Trent took out a switchblade from his back pants pocket.
Holly couldn’t see what Trent was doing. The fact he was no longer speaking made her nervous. She kept trying to raise up; to reposition her body in such a way that she could get a better view. But no matter what she tried, the restraints held her down securely. Her inability to move, to regain any level of control in this situation, was exacerbating.
Trent released the catch on the switchblade. It made a distinct clicking sound. Holly heard the click but couldn’t decipher what it was or where it was coming from. He took the gleaming three inch blade with the ivory handle and spun the tip against his finger. The light from the candle struck the silver metal, causing a rippling shadow to extend across the room. Trent was careful to not reawaken the pain in his hand from the bite Holly had inflicted upon him. The wound wasn’t bleeding as badly anymore, as the blood had begun to coagulate and partially seal the near-gaping wound.
Trent bent over the bed where Holly lay. Extending the switchblade in front of him, Trent slowly ran the back of the blade up Holly’s right leg. Instinctively she twitched with the new sensation moving slowly and deliberately up her sprawled leg. Trent ran the blade back down Holly’s leg until he reached the bottom cuff. He effortlessly spun the blade to the sharp side and begin to cut open the pants leg of her suit; ripping the inner seam. Trent’s breathing was becoming heavy as he placed his free hand on Holly’s now exposed skin… the pressure and intensity in his crotch growing with every snapped thread. Holly’s body tensed under his unwelcomed touch. As Trent leaned closer to Holly’s restrained body, she could feel his warm breath on her exposed skin.
Holly inhaled deeply with the shock of the cold steel against her leg. She couldn’t see; all she could do was feel. Holly wasn’t sure what he was doing, but the feeling of the cool hardness ripping apart her pants legs and Trent’s hand groping her leg made her completely uneasy. She squirmed against the mix of sensations. Her prayers intensified. “God please help me!” was the prayer she repeated in her head. The tears began to flow more freely. “Trent, please, please… I’m begging you… don’t do this.”
Trent belabored cutting open Holly’s pants. He wanted Holly to squirm, to be uncomfortable; to wonder what he was up to and what he would do next. Trent continued to painstakingly move up Holly’s pant leg, cutting the stitches almost to the connection at the base of Holly’s womanhood. The closer he got to her crotch, the greater the strain of his enlarging manhood, now fully swollen. Trent slowly pressed the point of the knife, pricking the top stitch. Holly gasped. His manhood pulsed.
Instead of continuing to cut down the other side, Trent backed up and started at the bottom of Holly’s other pants leg; meticulously popping each and every stitch.
Holly began to cry more intensely; anticipating his next move; the cool breeze she now felt on her exposed leg causing goose bumps to rise.
“No, no, no… please Trent… don’t do this… please don’t do this…” she begged; the tears streaming down her terror-stricken face.
But Trent was so entranced with what he was doing, he didn’t respond to Holly’s pleadings; her voice becoming more and more distant as his own perverted desires permeating his thoughts.
By the time Trent made his way up the other leg, with only a few weakened stitches holding Holly’s pants together, the pressure from his swollen cock demanded immediate relief. Trent backed completely up to the foot of the bed, lifting himself off the bed long enough to undo his pants and release the pressure his now taut underwear created. Holly was bound and tied. She couldn’t go anywhere even if she wanted to. Trent shimmied out of his pants and underwear with little care as to where they landed. He was fully erect and needed fertile ground to lay his unwelcome seed.
Trent slowly snaked his way between Holly’s restrained legs; gaped open enough for him to gain full access without resistance. Trent took the knife and cut the last of the pants’ stitches, pulling the remnants of fabric from Holly’s legs. In the flickering candlelight, Holly’s delicate, silken panties were now fully exposed.
Trent could no longer contain himself; his own sexual urges overtaking his torturous plans. Trent didn’t bother to remove Holly’s panties. He skillfully used his free hand to move Holly’s panties to the side, slightly ripping them, and placed the hand still holding the deadly steel against the base of Holly’s neck.
As he thrust his swollen manhood inside her without hesitation, the tip of the knife pricked Holly’s neck.
She screamed from the uninvited guest now plunged deeply inside the womanhood she had so chastely protected. She felt not only the pressure invading her privacy, but also the pressure of the strong steel blade against her neck.
“Please no… Trent… No! Don’t do this to me… Ahhh… stop… please stop!!” Holly begged; the tears flowing unrestricted from her tightly closed eyes.
Trent grunted and moaned; the sounds of sexual pleasure and relief, that at any other time may have been pleasing to the ear, now sickened Holly to the core of her very soul. The more she begged, the harder he thrust; unconcerned about her cries for mercy. The excitement of controlling her, taking what he wanted from her, and hearing her beg excited him even more. He pressed the knife even more firmly against Holly’s neck; the small prick now becoming a small painful puncture, oozing fresh warm crimson blood.
The pain from Trent’s lustful assault was both physical and mental. His advances were unwanted but Holly had no choice but to accept this unwelcomed invasion. He was raping her; unashamedly, doggedly, perversely. Trent moved with reckless abandon, taking no care for the pain he was inflicting upon her. Yet, despite this unsolicited perpetration, Holly’s body responded naturally… betraying her pleadings for Trent to stop, and abating the assault with vaginal secretions normally reserved for a much more welcomed encounter. Trent, assuming his now moistened vessel responding as a sign of pleasure instead of biological necessity, thrust even harder without regard for the natural boundaries Holly’s vaginal walls provided.
The guttural sounds emanating from Trent’s mouth turned Holly’s stomach. He sounded like a rabid dog hunting fresh kill. Her murmurs for him to stop were no match for his animalistic howling. Holly thought Trent’s onsla
ught would never end.
Trent was intoxicated with his own pleasure. It didn’t matter whether he had to take it or whether a bitch gave it to him. For Trent, his sexual satisfaction was the most important thing. His lecherous climax was close. His breathing quickened and his manhood pulsed with every advancing thrust.
Holly was mentally and physically exhausted. She no longer begged for Trent to stop. Her cries became whimpers, as she was forced to take everything Trent had to give. Holly cried silent tears.
Trent relentlessly and feverishly pressed into Holly’s womanhood as the point of climax neared; the sentiments from his lips echoing his heightened sense of arousal. “Come on…come on bitch…you know you want this… uh… uh…” The tip of the knife still pressed against the base of Holly’s neck, sharply pricking her supple skin. Holly winced with new pain; as fresh blood trickled from the deepening puncture. Although the room was breezy, Trent’s fevered assault caused him to sweat; salty drops of perspiration dripping onto Holly’s grimacing face. With one elongated thrust, Trent threw his head back, “uhhhhhh…” releasing his fullness inside her, Trent’s life germ pouring into Holly’s open and unwittingly receptive womb.
With his last guttural exaltation, Trent momentarily collapsed on top of Holly, his full weight pressing down on her ravaged body. He lay there, his breathing still labored but slowly returning to its normal state. Trent allowed the now bloody blade of the knife to fall away from Holly’s neck. And for a moment, Holly breathed a tentative sigh of relief, thinking maybe the worst of it was over. He had taken what he wanted; leaving her bleeding from her neck and from her now battered and bruised vagina. Maybe now he was satisfied and would let her go.
But that was not to be…