Page 22 of Decimation

The room spins in slow, nauseating circles. My head feels heavy, too heavy to lift, and my limbs are leaden, unresponsive.

I try to move, but it’s like my body isn’t mine anymore.

The fog in my mind is thick, suffocating, and I can’t think straight. I can’t remember how I got here, how long I’ve been here. Hours, days? Christ, what if it’s longer, what if it’s weeks that I’ve been stuck here, trapped here, imprisoned here in this room, in this torment?

I can’t remember anything except the taste of something bitter on my tongue, something I didn’t want but couldn’t refuse.

Ines is beside me, her fingers trailing over my chest, her breath hot against my ear. Her voice is soft, coaxing, reassuring and yet it feels wrong. Everything feels wrong.

I try to push her away, but my arm won’t obey. It just hangs limp at my side, useless.

“Shh, Laz,” she whispers, her lips brushing my earlobe. “Just relax. You don’t have to fight it. I know you like this. I know you want this.”

I don’t.

I don’t like this.

I hate this.

I fucking hate her.

But my body betrays me, responding to her touch in ways I can’t control. My skin burns where her fingers glide, and I feel a sickening heat pooling low in my stomach. I try to clench my fists, to will myself to resist, but my muscles are slack and unyielding.

Her hand moves lower and I realise with horror that I’m naked, that I have been naked for some time. I want to scream, to thrash, to do anything to stop her, but I can’t. I’m trapped in this haze, this nightmare, and there’s no escape.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with a sickening sweetness. “So strong yet so helpless. It’s intoxicating.”

I want to vomit. I want to claw my way out of this bed, out of this room, out of this life, but I can’t. I’m paralyzed, both physically and mentally, and all I can do is lie here as she takes what she wants from me.

Her fingers wrap around me, and I feel a surge of shame and disgust so overwhelming it threatens to drown me. I don’t want this. I don’t want her. But my body reacts anyway, betraying me in the worst possible way. I feel myself hardening under her touch, and I hate myself for it.

“See?” she says, her voice smug, triumphant. “I knew you liked it.”

I don’t. I don’t. I don’t.

But the drugs are too good, too effective. My cock responds to her touch, to her manipulation, and I’m powerless to stop it. She strokes me slowly, deliberately, and I feel a sickening mix of pleasure and revulsion coursing through me. I want to push her away, to scream, to do anything to make her stop, but I can’t. I’m trapped in this haze, this nightmare, and there’s no escape.

She leans in closer, her lips brushing against my ear again, and I can feel her breath hot against my skin. “You’re so hot when you come,” she whispers, her voice low and sultry. “You look so angry, so different from your brother...”

I want to die, I want to disappear. I want to wake up from this nightmare and find out it was all just a bad dream.

Her hand moves faster, and I feel the pressure building inside me, a sickening mix of pleasure and shame that I can’t control. I try to fight it, to hold it back, but it’s no use. My body betrays me, and I feel myself teetering on the edge, powerless to stop it.

“Come for me, Lazarus,” she whispers, her voice a sultry command. “I know you want to.”

I don’t. I don’t. I DON’T.

But my body doesn’t care. It responds to her touch, to her manipulation, and I’m powerless to stop it. I feel myself reaching the edge and I want to scream, to thrash, to do anything to stop it, but I can’t. I’m trapped in this haze, this nightmare, and there’s no escape.

Ines writhes beside me, her body pressing against mine, her skin slick with sweat. She’s touching herself, her fingers sliding between her legs and the sound of her moans fills the room, sharp and grating against my ears. She’s trying to turn me on I realize, trying to stoke the fire she knows I’m fighting to extinguish. She can sense my resistance, my disgust, and this is her way of combating it, forcing me to confront the betrayal of my own body.

“You’re so tense,” she whispers, her voice a sultry purr. “Just let go, Lazarus. You don’t have to fight it. I know you want this as much as I do.”

I don’t. I don’t. I don’t.

My body doesn’t listen. It betrays me, responding to her every touch, her every word, as if it belongs to her and not to me. She rubs herself against my leg, her movements deliberate, her breath hot and uneven. The scent of her arousal is thick in the air, cloying and suffocating and I want to gag, to crawl out of my own skin, to escape this prison of flesh and sensation.

“You feel so good,” she moans, her voice trembling with feigned ecstasy. “So strong, and so helpless. Fuck, it’s so sexy.”