Path To Retaliation (Fighter's Den, #2)

Chapter 17 - Cameron

*Trigger warning: this chapter contains GRAPHIC CONTENT of sexual abuse. Please read with caution or skip over select scenes entirely.*

Two months later...

"Doll?"

I gritted my teeth so hard I thought they might break. My fingers held the edge of the bathroom sink tightly while I tried to breathe some air into my lungs but that just made me gag at the stench of my own vomit. Today was a bad day. I had days where I could get through being a boy toy but days like today...days like this I couldn't even look in the mirror because of how disgusted I felt with myself. Hence the throwing up.

"What's taking so long? I'm ready."

Fucking bitch. I was ready to call it quits and the night hadn't even started yet. How the fuck was I gonna make it through...through my job...if all I could feel was revulsion towards the person I was about to become sexually intimate with? Though I knew the answer to that, I wanted a moment of denial for what my life had come to. A couple of months ago I got a prescription for pills that would give me an erection because sex with Hannah didn't make my body react like it did in the beginning. I used to be naive to the ordeals of intimacy so even a quick flash of tits would make me go off in my pants like a preteen. Not anymore, though. I've gathered so much experience, done and experimented so vastly, that I can no longer depend on my body to naturally react. It needs to be pushed because of how used to I am at seeing naked women all the time and fucking them all.

The pills have been working but I hate them because taking them is forcing me to be physically capable for sex. I think I'd become secretly excited over the fact that my body was rejecting the one thing it hated to do but I knew that wouldn't solve my problems. Before, I only had to force myself mentally but it's become physical and mental now. That was double the work, double the energy, and double the self-convincing required of me to get the job done. But if I didn't have sex with Hannah...yeah, my mind didn't want to go there.

It shamed me to admit it but she scared me. A lot. And so even if the pills were another thing about my life to loathe, even if they gave me horrible side effects that crushed my body the way being a gigolo crushed my spirit, I did it anyways. Because I was a coward. And because if Hannah ever found out that her favourite gigolo needed medical assistance to be turned on by her, if I ever embarrassed her like that, she would ruin me more than she already has and I knew I wouldn't be able to survive my life if it got even worse. I already questioned the worth of my existence every day. I didn't want to feel that way, to think that way, but when your life was a living hell it was impossible not to.

"I'm getting impatient."

Shit. Her voice sounded like she was keeping her anger at bay and that was never good. When Hannah was angry, she liked being in control and getting rough with me. The though of rough sex on a day I was already struggling spread fear in my veins like ice until I felt cold all over. I saw the way my face drained of colour in my reflection and I wanted to punch it. Like I said. Coward.

"Just making my hair the way you like it." I forced myself to sound as seductive as possible. I had to put her in a good mood. Her good moods only required a couple of rounds until she was bored with me and all but kicked me out. I needed to be kicked out today. I knew I wouldn't be able to get through more than an hour with her.

"You are?" Excitement. A relieved sigh escaped my lips and I made quick work of brushing my teeth while she tittered. "I'm in for a treat tonight, aren't I, doll?"

"You're in for several treats tonight. Be prepared to walk funny for a week."

The words tasted like acid but Hannah's giggle proved I'd said the right thing. If I kept this up, I was sure that she'd leave me alone after a couple rounds and receiving several orgasms. I didn't want anything in return for fear she'd be able to tell I wasn't naturally turned on. If keeping her distracted meant pleasing her, even if she disgusted me, then I'd do it. I was used to not having a choice. I was used to watching my own life happen from the sidelines.