You’re naked except for the steel around your throat. I can hear the hammer pounding the red hot metal and I see the sparks falling like burning snow. I chose not to smooth out the collar because I wanted to keep the divots. I wanted it rough on your skin. I took your exact measurements to ensure it dug into you when you swallowed. The padlock is far heavier than it needs to be so it weighs you down. I wanted it to mimic the feel of my boot pressed into the back of your neck. There’s some slack in the chain that goes from your collar to the headboard. I welded the headboard together from rusty scrap metal I picked up at a salvage yard. The bed is bolted to the floor. I found it and the mattress in an old abandoned mental institution. I hope when you’re alone you can smell the despair.
Do you know I paid a jail guard $100 for the pillow and sheet? You can’t buy fabric that shitty online. I imagined you endlessly tossing and turning trying to get comfortable and now patches of red are covering your body. Can you see how much I fucking care about you? Everything in the room I handpicked. The nightstand I found at a flea market. I bought it because it looked like it had washed ashore and sat on the beach for twenty years. The gaudy art nouveau lamp I found at an estate sale. The base is bronze and the shade is blown glass in the shape of a snail shell. I tested seventeen different light bulbs to get the lighting perfect, you fucking whore. Look at what I did for you.
Surrounded by you on the bed are various stuffed animals next to a cordless magic wand vibrator. Did you use up the battery? I left you alone for not even five hours. I see the wet spot soaking the mattress. You make me sick the way you’re trying to look innocent hugging the powder blue unicorn. Do you think those sad little girl eyes are going to manipulate me?
I hold a bowl of water out in front of me because a glass would be too easy. The chain jingles as you crawl towards me. You slurp up the room-temperature liquid. “Do you need to use the restroom?” My tone has the compassion of an abandoned refrigerator.
You shake your head, “no” without removing your lips from the bowl. Droplets fall down your chin, over the tattoos below your collarbone, and onto your breasts. Your hair is clumpy and greasy. Your makeup is days old and nearly rubbed off. But they’re still hints of the pretty girl you used to be. I enjoy seeing it. It’s like an echo of a package unopened. And now that you’ve been used, you’re in transition to something else- something more honest. I take the bowl from your lips and you chase after it by stretching your neck trying to get one more sip. The chain pulls tight and I hold the bowl less than an inch away. Your lips are about to get close enough for one more slurp but, instead, I set it on the nightstand.
Returning my attention to you, I reach out. You wince and fall back. “Shh, it’s OK,” I reassure you as I pet your hair. Our colleagues are taking summer vacations in warm tropical destinations. They’re sitting at tiki bars and sipping umbrella drinks. And you won’t leave this room for two weeks except for when I drag you down the hall by your chain to shit and piss. How does it feel to see the monster in the man you love? Can you tell I’ve completely lost myself in this role?
I snatch the chain and yank you towards me. My hand crashes into your face. “Look at me!” I scream. You’re shaking. Your tear-filled eyes glisten. I grab your cheeks and force your mouth open, “You’re nothing. Do you know that?” After I slap you again I spit into your mouth. I cover your lips and mash my palm into you as if I’m trying to shove too much garbage down the drain. The ball in your throat struggles past the collar when you swallow. “That’s it.”
I can tell the taste of me is still on your tongue by the way you bite into your lip. I reach between your legs. Your cunt is soaked. “Fucking whore.” I slap you again, this time with your juices coating my fingers. I wipe them on your lips and force them into your mouth, four fingers wide stretching your face. “You like that? Huh? You like when I fuck your slutty mouth?”
You nod as you squeeze your tiny unicorn. I shove my hand deeper until you gag. “Yeah, take that. Yeah.” I want to strip away any hope. I want to peel back the layers of you until I reach the empty center. We’re only four days into this little project of ours and it seems as though you’ve been my prisoner for years. Every time I open the door, am I bringing you food, or have I come to use your body again? Will I be a gentle husband taking care of his bedridden wife? Will I be a brutal man who lost control of his rage? I never know. When I’m out in the world, walking up and down grocery aisles, or putting gas in the car, I can hear your cries, and the erection between my legs grows.
I’m not even sure how long I’ve been shoving my hand into your mouth. But drool is all over your chin. It’s dripping onto your tits. I scoop it up and fling it at you before I slap your chest so hard it knocks you back. I grasp your face and pull you onto your knees. I slap your chest again and you fall back again.
“Do you know when I’m preparing your meals I think about the way you look at me? You’re so afraid of what comes through the door. But without me, you’d be fucked.” I grab your hair and pull you so close our lips almost touch. You open your mouth as if you expect me to kiss you. “I want you to fucking think about that. I’m all you have.” I hope my breath is stale on your skin. I lean over and you rest your head on my shoulder as I slip a finger inside you. “You get that, don’t you,” I whisper into your ear.
You’ve learned I don’t want you answering my rhetorical questions. That was a lesson I taught your first night. You hold still and I put another finger inside you. “No one’s coming, not your friends, not your family. I’ll take better care of you than any other person alive.”
My three middle fingers stretch you. “Every girl grows up wanting a man to love her as much as I’m gonna love you.” You make a sound. I can’t tell if it’s a cry or a moan. “Did you fucking say something?”
I lean back to see your face. Tears fall from your eyes. You whisper. “I get it. ” You rub the bulge in my jeans. “Please. Let me show you I want to be good.”
I have claw marks covering my body. You broke the skin when you bit my shoulder. I didn’t want to choke you until you blacked out. I didn’t want to beat your ass with the cane until you bled. I had no choice. I needed you to see my resolve. I can’t tell if I’ve broken you yet. Your other hand joins in to rub me through my jeans. “Is this more bullshit? How do I know you’re not trying to get me to let my guard down?”
Unzipping my fly, you say, “Let me show you.”
Your touch is so soft but I don’t fucking trust you. I want to. I so want you to love me as much as I love you. I pull out the pocket knife in my back pocket. I open it in front of your eyes so you can see the gray steel- so you can see the curve of the blade and how thin the metal is. Your eyes follow my movements as I press the edge against your throat. “There will be real consequences if you try anything stupid.”
Your lip quivers when you answer, “You don’t need that anymore.” You stroke my cock.
“Why not? Make me believe you.” With my thumb to wipe away one of your tears, you tilt your head into my touch and take my thumb into your mouth, gently sucking on it. Your eyes stay connected to mine as if two ends of a string are tied to our retinas. Your pupils turn so black I see my reflection in them: my gray unshaven face, the years of frustration around my eyes and mouth, my own dark pupils staring back at you.
You release my thumb and you say, “Because deep down this is what I’ve always wanted.” Your grip tightens around my shaft and you pull a little harder. “I would have never admitted that to anyone but, I think, this is who I’m meant to be.”
I wiggle the knife into your throat but you don’t flinch. “It’s OK,” you tell me. “If you need to hurt me I’m here to take your hurt.” You never stop massaging my cock. “I’ve always wanted someone to love me so much they’d go through all this trouble. I see that now. Honestly, I saw it the moment you put the collar on me but I couldn’t accept it right away, I guess. I can be stubborn sometimes but I don’t want to be. I just want to be whatever you need. If you promise to always take care of me I can be everything for you.”
The chain jingles when you lean down and you pull me into your mouth. Fuck, you feel so good I almost drop the knife but I catch myself and reposition it on your neck. With my free hand, I run my fingers through your greasy hair and rest my palm on the back of your head. You slowly bob up and down. Your tongue sweeps across my shaft. It takes all my self-control not to squirm. My upper teeth dig into my bottom lip and I let out long shallow grunts. Could you be this tender if you didn’t love me? I’m not so blinded by my cock in your throat to lose sight of the fact that you’re my prisoner and you’d do anything to be free. “The only freedom you’ll find here is accepting that this is your life now.”
With me still in your mouth, you nod in agreement. You suck hard. You pull away and drool onto my head. I watch as a long string of spit falls from your lips and lands on me. Before it has a chance to drip down your fingers and onto the floor, you dive down without fear of the knife against your throat and slurp it up. Would you do something so vulgar if you didn’t want to be my prisoner? I catch almost a hint of a smile on your face when you sit up. I know my guard is dropping even though I don’t want it to. It’s as subtle as a minor change in atmospheric pressure. You swash the spit around before letting it fall from your lips again. It’s an even bigger gob this time. It lands on my shaft and trickles down over your knuckles as you rub it into my skin. My cock glimmers in the muted light of your new home.
“That’s it,” I encourage. “Maybe it feels like this is your new life but that isn’t the case. This was always your life. You never had the freedom to live it until this moment.” When your mouth wraps around me again I drop the knife by my side. “I would do anything for you. Do you know that? You aren’t someone I picked at random. I watched you for so long.” The more I talk the more emotion pours out of you and into my cock. “I took you to keep you forever.” You pull me into your throat and hold me there. I stand up onto my toes trying to push deeper. “Yes! You do get it.” Your hands and mouth work in harmony because your one purpose is giving me pleasure.
“God! Fuck” I groan, soothed by the sweet sounds of suction coming from between my legs. Your fingers graze my balls as you cup them: one hand stroking, one hand massaging, your mouth tightening and loosening as you move up and down. “You were born for this. Every experience in your life has led you to this room.”
I push you off because I need to see you. Your tear-filled eyes glint but these are different tears, aren’t they? “Do you want to love me?”
“Do you want to be mine?”
You nod again.
“Do you want to exist for my pleasure?”
You nod one last time. I drop the knife onto the bed. I lean down and cup your face as I pull you to my lips. Since I chained you to the headboard, all I’ve wanted was to kiss you. I wanted you to taste how much I love you. And now your tongue slips into my mouth. Your tears fall onto me. Your long eyelashes flutter against my cheeks. You’re shaking. You’re whimpering. I see a future where this room becomes our sanctuary. You’ll never want to exit. The chain will never stop jingling in your ears. The collar will never let go of your throat. Our mouths open so wide. I can’t get enough of you. I’ll feed you every day. I’ll bathe you. I’ll help you get dressed in the mornings. I’ll help you get undressed at night. Need me for everything. Want for nothing. I love you.
When I pull away I look down to see you holding the knife. Fuck! Fear and rage bubble up within me. My eyes shoot into yours. Slowly you close the knife and offer it to me. I reach for it, sliding my fingers over your wrist and letting them skim across your skin before I ease it out of your grasp. I put it in my pocket and your hands find my cock again. You tug me back into your lips. Our tongues meet in the space between. Speaking into my mouth you say, “See, I am yours now.”
Without being told, you turn around and bury your face into the thin prison-issue pillow. You perk your ass up. From behind, your pussy looks so smooth and sleek. Your wetness gives your lips this sheen. You reach back and spread your ass showing me my property. I stroke my cock as I move closer. I’ve held you down and forced myself into you as you kicked and screamed. I’ve choked the life out of you as I raped your motionless body. I’ve overpowered you to the point you laid there and cried as I came inside you. And through all of that, this was what I wanted. I wanted you to recognize your need to belong to me. I don’t mean belong to me in the cute sense of the word like I am some kind of man’s man. I mean it in the sense of 24/7 365, every aspect of your life coming down to a decision I make.
Rubbing my head on your cunt, I say “I want what happens in this room to be about making your need for me stronger. I want to be everything to you.” Your warmth and wetness are overwhelming. Saying it’s like fucking you for the first time is too banal. It’s more like I’m the first male primate to ever fuck a female primate. It’s like that spark inside our human brain the first time an emotion mixed with our primal need to procreate. “I love you” are the only words I think to say as I push deeper.
When I am all the way in, I grab your hips and position your body exactly where I want you. I watch my thick cock stretching you. I pull out and your lips are so tight. You’re so wet white milky blotches of your juices sit on my shaft. I scrape some of you off me with my thumb and then I wipe you across my lips. “You taste like mine.”
I can’t move any faster. Centimeter by centimeter I push and pull. It’s as if I’ve hypnotized myself with the image of me entering and exiting you. Everything about this has dragged me deeper than I thought possible. The fucking room, the bruises on your body, the stuffed animals that have fallen to the floor, I’ve become the monster I’m pretending to be. I see that now. Or maybe I’ve always been him and this was what I needed to let him out.
Has it been a few minutes or a few hours of me slowly fucking you? My cock is harder than it’s ever been. I throb against your insides. My heart pumps blood through me and into you. “You fucking bitch.” I snatch the chain and yank, snapping your head and arching your back. Wrapping the chain around my fist I pull with more force. “Is this really what you want?”
You moan the words, “Yes, sir.” And I am already gripping your ass like I’m trying to rip the flesh off your bones. “I can take it. I want to take it.”
I thrust into you with everything I have. Your body jolts forward but the steel collar around your throat and the chain in my fist keeps you in place. The skin on your neck turns red. I ease back until I almost slip out, but before I do, I slam into you again. “Cunt!” Every pump brings a new thought. “Whore!” My hips crash against your ass. “Bitch!” You’re nothing but a piece of meat for my dick. “Slut!” Your flesh ripples as I invade your body. “Fuck toy!” My knuckles turn pale white from gripping the chain. “Mine!” I pound your pussy as if I’m trying to kill it. “Mine!” I think every collision of our bodies has reached maximum force but I keep going harder. “Mine!” And harder. “Mine!” And harder. “Mine!”
When I built this room, I hoped that you’d never want to leave. I realize how misguided that was. I see now you’ll never be able to. Neither will I. No matter where we go, or what we do, what happens here over the next two weeks will come to define us. It will rearrange who we are to one another in ways we couldn’t conceive. I drop the chain and grip your hips. I’ve never fucked anyone the way I’m fucking you. Who am I? It’s like I’m trying to atone for something and the only way I can do it is by destroying your cunt. Your soft innocent voice moans. “Give it to me. I can take it. I want it. I need it.”
But, why does this feel so right? As if you could hear my thoughts you whimper, “Why does this feel so right?” And I know at that moment we’re more connected than we’ve ever been. I had to take away everything so your love for me could turn into pain. I sense that need. It’s desperate. It’s filled with panic. But the instant you get it everything becomes calm. Fuck, I hate you so much. I love you. I want to break you in half so I can see you looking up at me unsure of where you are- who you are. I think I’m hitting you but I might be gently petting you. I think I’m screaming but I might be crying.
I could have cummed inside you minutes or hours ago. But I refuse to. Now that I have you I don’t want to stop. I want to get so hard my cock bursts. I want to go limp and get hard all over again just to recreate this. “Mine!”
You moan, “Yours!”
Off in the distance, I hear my body slapping against your ass. The pressure builds. I’m pulsing. “Mine!”
I’m going to take everything from you so I can purge your life of any doubt. I’m going to be the guiding force you embrace when you’re lost. “Mine!”
I unload every part of me, shattered into a mosaic of my anger and shame, colored like stained glass, some with soft rounded edges and others broken into shards, cutting deep, ripping you apart from the inside out. My grunts sound like the agony of death. My hands reach into you. I’m digging like a man who’s lost something valuable, desperate to find it in the mud and dirt. FUCK! Cumming like I’m trying to drown you in my essence. And after I have no more fluid left, I keep pulsing. My body dry heaves air. Even when I topple over onto you, my body still thinks it has more to give. I’m trembling. You’re trembling against me. You get as close as you can. You latch onto me like we’ve fallen from a skyscraper and the only thing left for us to do is make sure we crash together. Your lips find my neck. Your collar digs into my shoulder. The chain rests on my arm. My lips kiss your forehead. Your fingers glide through my chest hair. And your breath is cool on my molten skin