Maria gains consciousness to darkness.
Something is not right. Her eyes are open but she cannot see anything. Faint yellow light filters through the fabric that covers her eyes. Even more disturbing, are her hands, bound above her head with large restraints. She feels the surface of wood on the back of her hands. She struggles against them but it only raises the panic that builds in her chest.
The last thing she remembers is getting home from work and finding a glass of wine and a note saying 'For my love'. She assumed it was from her husband but maybe...
"Listen to me carefully..." Maria turns cold as she hears the voice just behind her. It raises the hair on her back to hear the harsh, metallic tone so close to her, breathing and sniffing. The voice isn't natural but altered in some way. "There are two ways this can end." The cold surface of a blade caresses her neck. Fear prevents her from breathing. "One, you do everything I say to my liking, unconditionally. No screaming, no protests and you get to go home at the end of this. Or this could go a very different way." The blade's edge press into the nape of her neck, piercing the skin even if only slightly. She nods her head. "I must hear you say it." No words find her. "Say it." He presses deeper.
"I will do it." Maria replies quickly.
"Do what?" The captor asks.
"Everything you say."
"Without question?"
"Yes."
The pressure of the knife disappears, replaced with a burning smell of alcohol. He cleans the area and applies tape over the wound, which confuses Maria. What man would torture her and then care for her.
"Who are you?" She asks, curious.
"Already breaking rules." Maria waits for a response. The captor regards the question before answering.
"Out there, in the real world, I am no one, an ordinary man." Maria hears the shame in his voice. He pauses for a minute as if for effect. "But tonight, I am your god and your devil." The vulnerability that present for a moment disappears and the cold man returns. He grabs a fistful of hair and pulls it back, extending her neck. The knife is back on her throat. "No more questions from now on."
Maria understands the man is volatile but she cannot help ask this final question before submitting to his will. "Just one more." She waits for her captor's consent.
"Go on." He says, his lips almost touching her cheeks.
"Is my family alright? You didn't do anything to my daughter?" Maria needs this one piece of comfort.
"Your daughter is unharmed." He says.
"And my husband?" He deliberately delays his response.
"That depends on your performance tonight. Satisfy me and you might see your husband sooner than you think." Maria does not like the uncertainty but all she can do is comply with her captor's orders and hope he keeps up his word of returning her to her family.
The man sniffs her scent, sweet rich perfume mixed in with the fear and desperation. He knows he has control over her. That she will do as he says.
He gazes down at her; the satin blouse with a low V-neck and tight skirt that hugs her wonderfully toned curves. He watched her every day, at her home, at work; stalking her as she teased other men. She is no tease anymore. He has total control over her and that power itself turns him on.
He traces the blade down her neck, into that deep V as she breathes in and out; an exercise to calm herself. Carefully, he pops the buttons of her blouse out, making her gasp every time. When he has reached the final one, he uses the edge of the blade to reveal her. He steps back and admires her curves, a body sculpted from hard work. At her age, after a baby she has worked hard to keep in shape.
He picks up the pair of scissors that he has assorted with other things tonight. He cuts her blouse and skirt methodically, without touching her skin. She stands there only in her pink lingerie and heels, almost hanging from the restraints. Her tits are mature, of a mother's, well proportionate and fit for a woman her age. She remains uncomfortably, balancing her weight from one foot to another. He circles her, watching the taut muscles on her thighs and legs work to keep her upright in heels. Her Lingerie is too fancy for work. He knows who she wants to impress and it isn't her husband.
He returns with the knife and uses the flat of it to caress her body.
"Tell me. Do you love your husband?" He asks her.
"What has that to do with anything?" He applies a little pressure with his knife for her to respond. "Yes, of course I love him." She says quickly. The knife slips in between the straps of her bra and in one fluid motion, splits them in two. She stifles a scream as her tits hang free. He cuts her bra off completely. There are better ways to confine them, the captor thinks.
The man is gone again. Maria's cheeks flush from embarrassment. She has an idea about how this will play out but with the short pauses and subtle nature of her captor's actions, she has grown uncomfortably vulnerable with time passing. He isn't going to end this quickly and the dread heightens her senses.
He is close again; she could feel him watching her intently. The knife is back but it is warm now, heated under a fire. He caresses the flesh around her breasts. Sometimes he uses the back of the blade or the flat of it and occasionally he uses the tip to inflict pain. He moves closer to her nipples with every circle. Strange sensations coarse through her body with every passing second. The caress followed by the pain mixed in with heat of the knife makes her feel something that she doesn't want to. Her nipples are firm in response. He reaches the summit of her aroused nipple and kneads into it.
"Tell me about Motel 69." Maria takes in a wisp of air.
"What?" This surprises her. How does he know about that she wonders? How long has this man been watching her? "I don't know what..."
"Do not think you can lie to me!" He warns her.
She decides to tell him what he already knows.
"It's where I stay when I don't want to come home from work."
"Were you alone?" He asks.
"No." She answers. Admitting this to another man is difficult but relieving to say out aloud, even if it is to a stranger and a psychopath. No one knows about her affair. It was only a few times but she was not proud of it either. "He is a man from my office, Gary. We work on projects together and it just happened one night."
"There were others, weren't there?" He questions her further.
"No! It was only Gary." She answers back.
"With this body, I bet you liked fucking them. Liked how they chased after your pussy."
"No!" She answers adamantly. "It was only Gary." She doesn't know why she is defending herself to this man. He is just toying with her emotions, her guilt.
The pressure of the knife disappears. "I will ask you again then. Do you love your husband?" These words sting her more than any knife could.
"Yes." She answers but with lesser resolute.
"Don't lie to me. I saw how you were with Gary. I bet your husband doesn't fuck you like he does; a pathetic man, who doesn't know how to please his own wife."
"No, you are wrong. Paul is a loving father and husband. He loves me and I love him." She states, more firmly than before.
"Yet, you cheated on him."
"It wasn't because of him. I was... the one who..." She can't put her thoughts into words as tears gather to spill out.
"You wanted more than a love life with your husband, you wanted to be fucked by someone else. It was the only way you could get off. Even now, you are turned on by a stranger with a knife, aren't you?" She keeps silent, her head hanging.
"If I bring your husband in here..." Something is different in his voice. "And I drive this knife into him..." Something is wrong. His calm nature appears to be slipping away. "Would you regret not telling him or would you lie to him again?"
"No!" Maria struggles, kicking and screaming. "Don't do anything to him! I swear I will kill you..."
She loses the bit of self-control she built to get through this. He has brought her to the edge and watched as she crumbled before him. Tears run down from her blinded eyes. She curses her captor and drains every bit of her energy.
All the time, he just watches her from a distance as she breaks down completely. All goes according to his plans. He waits for her to wear herself out.
She does eventually.
"I believe you love your husband and for being truthful he shall remain unharmed." She is exhausted but relieved. That one promise calms her. The strain on her shoulders has become intense and she sweats from it. She looks up in the direction she thinks her captor is watching her from.
"May I have some water to drink?" She asks him. There is no answer.
"Open your mouth." He commands. She does so and cold drips of water trickle into her mouth. It doesn't quench her thirst but soothes it.
"Your lips are dry." He says, placing an ice cube on them. He traces it to her edges and then back again. They partly open as she licks the water off her lips. A strong urge to taste her overcomes him but he reigns in his urges.
He used the ice to cool her body, her neck, her arm, and then her breasts.
"You like this, don't you?" He asked, circling her pink areola. Her mouth partly open, she breathes quickly. He asks again more forcibly.
"Yes!" She answers.
He smiles and moves on to the other breast. When he thinks both are numb enough, he brings in his special toy. "This will hurt." He announces and uses the nipple clamps on her. She winces in pain, for each nipple. They link together by chain. He slides his finger down on them and enjoys the pain she suffers from.
"Do you like this?" He asks.
"You are a sick man." She tells him. He plays with the chain, giving pressure on opposite directions.
