For me, he was worse than the devil.
Abel sat across from me with a huge grin on his face, his brows etched in concentration on the piece of sausage he was quietly chomping on. I tore my bread into halves, spread some jam over the insides, and smashed them together, glaring at him. He was gloating, rubbing my submission on my face.
Ugh.
"I hate you so fucking much. You're nothing but a monster."
I knew my words didn't make any difference, and I hated myself more for letting everything take place. How could I cower before him all of a sudden? How could I have blindly obeyed everything he demanded of me? He'd driven me insane and made me cum five times. Five times, and I'd felt... Damn, what exactly had I felt for him? He'd only made me come. He'd only shown me the thrill of having his tongue on my pussy lips. Everything was purely physical. Every feeling was sexual.
