Activated .
“Dammit!” She pushed away from the desk.
She wanted to throw the computer on the floor, smash it to pieces, but there was a knock on the door. A soldier entered the room carrying a dinner tray. She dashed away, embarrassed by getting caught.
The soldier set the tray on the table and left without looking at her. She smirked, finding a sandwich and pasta salad for dinner, “mess hall food.” She nibbled on the sandwich while walking around the room, running her hand along the books, reading the titles. His collection surprised her; he had books on history, biographies, classic literature, and plenty of murder mysteries. She leaned against the big bay windows, it was twilight and she could still make out the terrain. The fort was at the top of a large hill and surrounded by a well-manicured lawn. As the land sloped, a sparsely populated wood popped up and beyond that was a dense forest. She pushed on the window, but wasn’t surprised to find it wouldn’t budge.
There was a punching bag in the far corner of the room and she took a jab at it, it felt good to hit something and she hit it a few more times. Olivia didn’t really know anything about boxing and felt a little foolish especially as she was nearly naked, but she gave the bag a few kicks before hitting it again. Her pounding heart and the focus it took to hit the bag without hurting herself calmed her as she channeled all of her anger, frustration, and humiliation into the punching bag.
After about a half hour, her limbs burned and she was covered in sweat. Olivia took another quick shower then grabbed a bottle of water out of the mini fridge she found in the living room and settled on one of the couches with a book. In no time she was asleep, the book resting on her chest.
. . .
She was in the clutches of the solider from earlier that day. He punched her so hard she thought he knocked out her teeth. He was hitting her in the face, again and again. She felt her eye swell shut as pain seared through her. She fell to the ground and curled up, trying to protect herself, but he just started to kick her. She could taste blood and almost vomited as he kicked her in the stomach. She closed her eyes against the pain and when she opened them again she was naked and strapped to a table. Her legs were spread wide, attached to stirrups. The solider was unbuttoning his pants, his member slipped out and he started to stroke himself. Behind him sat a row of men, waiting impatiently for their turn with her.
“Cole, please help me. Cole!” she shouted, as the man leaned over, about to bury himself deep inside her.
“Olivia, wake up.” Someone was shaking her.
She woke up with a jolt. Instinct came to her before full consciousness and she struggled as if still in her dream. Arms wrapped around her, pulling her against a warm body, cradling her.
“It’s okay, you’re alright.” Slowly she calmed down and relaxed as she realized where she was, in bed, with Cole.
She clung to him, sobbing into his chest. For the second time that day he held her until her tears subsided.
“You were screaming my name,” he said softly.
She became more aware of herself and her surroundings. He must’ve carried me to bed when he got back, she mused. He was stripped down to his boxers and the most naked she’d seen him. She was up against his chest, her fingers pressed against his naked skin. It was dark and although she could barely see him, she could feel the toned muscle under her fingers. She tried to pull away, but he held her to him.
“I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“Shhh.” He cut her off. “It’s okay. What were you dreaming about?” he asked, stroking her hair.
“My worst nightmare,” she whispered into his chest.
The contact was making her skin come alive, quietly humming with want. She wished he’d let her go. New tears
“Dammit!” She pushed away from the desk.
She wanted to throw the computer on the floor, smash it to pieces, but there was a knock on the door. A soldier entered the room carrying a dinner tray. She dashed away, embarrassed by getting caught.
The soldier set the tray on the table and left without looking at her. She smirked, finding a sandwich and pasta salad for dinner, “mess hall food.” She nibbled on the sandwich while walking around the room, running her hand along the books, reading the titles. His collection surprised her; he had books on history, biographies, classic literature, and plenty of murder mysteries. She leaned against the big bay windows, it was twilight and she could still make out the terrain. The fort was at the top of a large hill and surrounded by a well-manicured lawn. As the land sloped, a sparsely populated wood popped up and beyond that was a dense forest. She pushed on the window, but wasn’t surprised to find it wouldn’t budge.
There was a punching bag in the far corner of the room and she took a jab at it, it felt good to hit something and she hit it a few more times. Olivia didn’t really know anything about boxing and felt a little foolish especially as she was nearly naked, but she gave the bag a few kicks before hitting it again. Her pounding heart and the focus it took to hit the bag without hurting herself calmed her as she channeled all of her anger, frustration, and humiliation into the punching bag.
After about a half hour, her limbs burned and she was covered in sweat. Olivia took another quick shower then grabbed a bottle of water out of the mini fridge she found in the living room and settled on one of the couches with a book. In no time she was asleep, the book resting on her chest.
. . .
She was in the clutches of the solider from earlier that day. He punched her so hard she thought he knocked out her teeth. He was hitting her in the face, again and again. She felt her eye swell shut as pain seared through her. She fell to the ground and curled up, trying to protect herself, but he just started to kick her. She could taste blood and almost vomited as he kicked her in the stomach. She closed her eyes against the pain and when she opened them again she was naked and strapped to a table. Her legs were spread wide, attached to stirrups. The solider was unbuttoning his pants, his member slipped out and he started to stroke himself. Behind him sat a row of men, waiting impatiently for their turn with her.
“Cole, please help me. Cole!” she shouted, as the man leaned over, about to bury himself deep inside her.
“Olivia, wake up.” Someone was shaking her.
She woke up with a jolt. Instinct came to her before full consciousness and she struggled as if still in her dream. Arms wrapped around her, pulling her against a warm body, cradling her.
“It’s okay, you’re alright.” Slowly she calmed down and relaxed as she realized where she was, in bed, with Cole.
She clung to him, sobbing into his chest. For the second time that day he held her until her tears subsided.
“You were screaming my name,” he said softly.
She became more aware of herself and her surroundings. He must’ve carried me to bed when he got back, she mused. He was stripped down to his boxers and the most naked she’d seen him. She was up against his chest, her fingers pressed against his naked skin. It was dark and although she could barely see him, she could feel the toned muscle under her fingers. She tried to pull away, but he held her to him.
“I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“Shhh.” He cut her off. “It’s okay. What were you dreaming about?” he asked, stroking her hair.
“My worst nightmare,” she whispered into his chest.
The contact was making her skin come alive, quietly humming with want. She wished he’d let her go. New tears
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