Chapter 76

MADDISON

Asher guides me into the stall, his hand firm against my back. The horse I rode bareback yesterday isn’t here, but I recognize the stall as his.

I’m puzzled as to why Asher chose this particular wall, inside a horse stall of all places. Why this wall and not one of the other three?

Suddenly, he’s on his knees before me. I’m wearing leggings, which he slides down my legs with an ease that suggests he’s done this before.

I don’t know why I expected anything different; he’s always been upfront about his womanizing ways. He’s just a guy who enjoys sex without the complications of a relationship.

Reflecting on the direction my life is taking, I realize I might understand him better than I thought. Maybe that’s how I’ll cope when all this ends and I regain control of my life.

His tongue teases my clit through my panties, and I’m undone almost instantly. “Why does my body betray me like this?”

“Why does his touch affect me so deeply that it’s painful?” Yes, it’s painful.

Ever since the day he took me, my stomach has been in knots. A constant ache lingers deep within me, throbbing with every breath I take.

It’s odd how it hurts more when I’m idle. The pain is more intense in the quiet stillness of the night.

It’s as if it’s rebelling against the prospect of me finally finding safety and happiness. I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better.

But if Asher is right, if his promise holds true, my suffering will save many girls. More than I’m already protecting by secretly drugging our clients’ drinks or taking their place so I’m the one being used, not them.

I try to envision them safe and how that would affect me, but right now, pinned against this wall, the pain demands my attention. My heart races as pleasure and pain intertwine.

I let out a gasp—not a pleasurable one—but Asher doesn’t notice. Instead, he pushes my panties aside and parts my lips to delve his tongue inside me.

Phantom pains shoot through me, and I know they’re not real. I know I’ve healed, that my skin has mended, leaving only a scar as a reminder of my physical torment, but my mind doesn’t care.

It clings to the memories as if they’re still fresh—as if they happened just yesterday. I struggle to stay present, to stay in the moment when I’ve let my guard down and allowed my past to invade my thoughts.

Asher remains oblivious, diligently working to bring me to the climax he promised—a promise we negotiated when, in truth, I understand his mother’s concerns.

He shouldn’t be touching us. He shouldn’t be intimate with us, but I’m selfish. He’s the only man who’s ever used me for my pleasure…

He’s the only man who’s ever pleasured me without expecting anything in return. My climax comes quickly, sweeping over me like waves crashing against the shore.

I feel myself tighten; everything contracts. I want to savor this moment, to bask in being desired for once in my life, but I can’t.

The pain intensifies. And in that moment, I’m faced with a choice.

I can cry out, letting Asher know that his promised pleasure was anything but. Or…

Or I can hold his head to me, keeping his focus on my body and not my face. I choose the latter, guiding his head where it shouldn’t be, and allow myself a moment of pain.

I close my eyes tightly, opening my mouth in a silent plea for help. I tilt my head back and silently beg any higher power to take away the things I wish I hadn’t been given.

To take this pain and rid it from my life. But it’s pointless.

I know this. God, or whoever is watching over us, has never granted me any favors.

I’ve been left to suffer on this Earth alone. My fingers tighten in Asher’s hair, holding his head so he can’t look up and see me.

I allow myself this moment of vulnerability and let it unfold. The agony engulfs me, sweeping me up in its relentless tide, and I let it take up residence within me.

“Is this my just punishment?” I wonder aloud. “Did my father have it right all along?”

“Am I merely here on this earth to serve those around me?” It’s beginning to feel that way; I’m starting to think he might have been onto something.

He warned me—oh how he warned me. He reminded me every time he laid his hands on me, every time he let his friends do the same.

The sex, the drugs, the pain inflicted with knives, cigarettes…needles. The countless nights in the hidden room off the cellar that my mother knew nothing about.

I used to think he was mistaken. But now, I’m starting to see the pattern.

I’m recognizing the type of men I’m drawn to. My hand lets go of Asher, but I’m not fast enough to mask my emotions.

His gaze lifts as mine drops, and he sees it. He sees the very thing I’ve been trying to hide since that morning I knocked on his door.

I’m shattered, in more ways than one, but right now, I’m broken on the inside. It’s painful, it’s killing me, yet I’ve kept it from him because I don’t trust him.

“I’ve hurt you,” he says.

His words cut like a sharp blade. No, no, he didn’t hurt me.

That’s the thing… He’s never hurt me, yet I’m still in pain.

He rushes to get up, reaching for my tear-streaked cheeks.

“Maddison?” he asks, cupping my face as he pulls me into his warm and somewhat safe embrace.

I resist; I really do. I fight back the sobs that are lodged in my throat, but he seems to be my undoing.

I can’t hold them back; I weep. I weep into his chest.

Sobs that echo not just my present pain but my past as well.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought… I’m so sorry, Maddison,” he murmurs soothingly.

I wish his apology could make things better, absolve the wrongs done to me, but it doesn’t. And it’s pointless because he has nothing to apologize for.

Asher isn’t my tormentor… far from it.