Rapture

Burn

When he raises me from the water, I see they are red with blood.

My back feels stripped open and raw. Fresh blood keeps rolling out the claw marks. The droplets trickle cool against my skin compared to the hot-tub my wounds had just been in.

My chest rises and falls with my pants. Head still spinning from the steams and the pain he made me endure. I blink my eyes, trying to steady myself.

"Now you need to be still."

He says, and his hand touches my hip underwater. My breath is caged in fright as he caresses up my stomach, between my breasts, and plants the core of his palm firm against my breastbone.

My skin crawls with fear, and a disturbing yearning for the pleasuring heat he had given me before. I want to ask why I need to be still, then the fingers of his other hand fall across the claw marks on my back.

The mere contact with the ripped skin makes me scream and jump from my seat.

But he was ready for it, his hand on my chest putting me in my place as the hand on my back presses firmer.

I cry and twist between his hands, my eyes widening and dripping with tears.

"Why are you hurting me?" I whimper through clenched teeth. A mocking chuckle sounds in reply.

"I didn't start yet."

His fingernails slide into the cuts, the heat of his touch focused and intensified their in their razor edges, scorching deep in my flesh. Slowly, he carves along the length of the claw marks.

My eyes roll into my skull as my screams shudder my body against his hand. The pain is so much my vision starts to split into shapes and colors.

Then black.