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“Trust me,” he whispered. “We can't contract trust, but it is the most important thing you can give me.” Then he growled again, and violently pushed her into the bed.
Her vision swam with red. Memories smothered her. Angry hands, belts with buckles that tore and stung, a thick rod of flesh being rammed into her. Told she was worthless, a useless girl. Told she could never be equal to a man. Proving they were superior, superior torturers, by holding her chin open as they thrust into her mouth. Burning as they violated her anally.
“No! Stop! I can't!”
Terrance did stop, backing up. “Those words could easily be part of the play. This is why we need to trust each other.”
“Play?” she asked, her voice high and frightened. She was still caught in the memory of her rape. “There is nothing playful about-”
“There is here,” he tried to explain, putting a finger to her lips. “Some women, and men, enjoy the idea of being out of their own control and under someone else's. There is a freedom in it.”
