And then she's trapped and she knows it, her body standing stiff against the wall with his eyes seizing her up. They are all but sparkling in something between amusement and the promise of unspeakable horrors and it breaks her heart again and again, to have him so close but so far from what she wished for, to have him right where she wanted him, but she never asked for all this pain, she didn't want this violence that was painted all across the cruel curves of his lips.
"Don't", she says, weakly, and he smirks at her, idly caressing her neck in a tantalizing show of slowness. Her breath catches in her throat, for even though he doesn't comment on it, the message is clear: I've got all the time in the world and you won't stop me.
She squeezes her eyes shut, willing the scene to disappear, willing the almost tender touch on her throat to stop feeling like a threat, willing to wake up and laugh it all off - but his rasping voice breaks through this intense wishing of hers, making her aware of her position in a way that makes it hard for her not to tear up.
"Is this not what you wanted, not what you begged for, to be my mistress?", he asks, but doesn't wait for an answer, all but ignoring the little gasp she makes (she didn't expect her heart to be capable of further pain), the way her eyes are prickling with tears, she will cry, and soon, and it won't help her at all. She knows this and so does he.
"Please", she starts again, her voice nearly breaking, and he draws back just a tiny little bit, letting her breathe for a moment, and shows all of his teeth in something that should have been a smile, but instead of offering comfort it just leads to desperation grabbing hold of her very core and she cannot help the little sob that escapes her throat, she is scared, so scared, and he still stands in a way that makes it obvious - oh, he won't let her forget - that she cannot escape, that she is completely cornered by his body.
"Oh, come on. You know you can beg better than that."
When he grabs a handful of her hair and pulls until she feels the tears streaming freely down her face, her mouth opened in a silent scream, she doesn't know if it hurts more than the way he had stomped on her heart, she doesn't know why she feels so numb.
Had the situation been any different, she would have wondered why she thought of nothing but the taste of him, this distinct smell of smoke, as if someone had emptied an ash tray into her mouth, when he presses his lips to hers, fleetingly. There were supposed to be fireworks, in every single one of her day dreams there were, but she is crying and all she can taste is salt.