Self

There was a time I'd laughingly used you to free the monster in me-to soothe the anger, fear and doubt. Then I'd unleash it, let it run over your body and over the hills of your curves like wild territory only to wake up the next day to find you covered in bruises and marks. Indentations that told the story of teeth and nails and toys and tools. A tapestry, in growing order, of what I had done to you the night before when I had lost my mind and allowed the beast to take control.

Why did you allow it? Love for me? Adoration? Pleasure enough wasn't worth it, I know, not for the things I've done to you. The beautiful, lovely creature that I've draped over my shoulder and dragged into the darkness. The only woman that I could look in the eyes the next day and say that I truly loved. The one I'd allow the weakness and intimacy of pushing my face into her skin and letting her stroke my hair before I tried to kiss and soothe the pain away.

Over time we've become something else. You've made me less of a monster and more of a man.

Just as I tried to take the pain of being used away from you the next day, you started to release me from the notion that I had to be anything other than whole, present and happy. And every time I pushed you so hard there were tears, you were there to embrace me, hold me. Stroke my face with your thumbs and tell me you adored me. Time flew, the monster left.

Or so I thought until I saw that bit of your thigh peeking out from beneath the skirt today, more of it than I'd ever seen in public. The realization that you could now wear such a thing without consideration because I was no longer playing your body like an instrument.

And that's how it started. The old voice calling from the back of my mind, somewhere deep within. "She no longer fears you," it whispered. "You have to wonder what that means." I chased it away but not before I saw a look of evaluation on your face. When you asked if everything was alright I said of course. I said of course and I took a long sip to hide the lie.

But you can't hide from yourself in the shower. The voice was louder there, magnified by echo in the room. "Maybe it's okay she's not afraid of you anymore. I mean, that's what love is, right? Not being afraid. Being open. Of course, if you lied yesterday about hearing me? Makes you wonder if she's lying about anything given how much has changed between you."

I told myself I was being silly. "Silly? Sure. Whatever you say. But remember when you used to grab her? Throw her around? She came every night you did. She made you breakfast the next morning and laughed at all your jokes. When's the last time that happened?"

Toweling down, I scraped and soaked the water from every inch of me. Normally I'd slap the towel around haphazardly but I was talking my time. Letting the voice make it's points. "Let me put it to you this way. What's the absolute worst thing that can happen if you give me free reign for a night? Let's sketch it out." I looked in the mirror, rubbed my beard and contemplated shaving it. "Do it," the voice said, "Let's give her exactly what she wants. Both of us. Like old times."

Before I knew it, I had applied the shaving cream to enough of my beard to trim and shape it. I hadn't styled it in weeks. Apathy, maybe, but comfort too. Just forgetting the little things. The voice was stronger now, lower. It was a growl instead of whisper. "Let's face facts. You haven't pushed her for a long time because you were happy with it too. Oh, and she loves reformed you. New you. Polite and respectful you. You're a goddamn knight in shining armor and she can show you off to all her colleagues with the cute little Valentine's Day card and the flowers you sent to her office. But that's who you are because of her. I'm who you've always been."

I don't want to change back.

"You don't have to. That's the beauty of it. See, you just stay on top. Keep everything going just the way it is. Netflix queues and learning to bake and all that cutesy stuff. Heaven forbid I get in the way. But then, every once in awhile? When we're having a conversation like this? You let me out. You let me surprise her. Fuck her up. She'll never see it coming. Hell, I'm you, and you hardly knew I was here at all."

I washed the remaining lather off my face. My beard looked good. "Damn good start," the voice said, "But you know that's not enough. Let's make a night of it she'll never forget."

I dress quickly, rush to the grocery store. I know I only have a few hours. I'm halfway there before the voice pips up again. "Not her favorite. No flowers. No candles. Nothing that tips our hand." I agree and say to myself that it would be too big of a hint.

We get all the things we need for a nice dinner, my shadow and I. Keep it light and easy, we agree, before heading home to start the process. We debate on the next step. I win, but somehow I think the monster lets me, and begin to clean the kitchen, mop up the bathroom, scrub down the dining room. Make it all clean enough to know the effort had been put in.

"Because your woman wants you to be a maid," said the voice. "My turn."

The shadow drives me downtown to a place I hardly knew existed, some overpriced vintage clothing shop. You have to be kidding, I tell myself. "No joke. You're going to get dressed up for the little lady." I can hardly figure out what she likes at all, I tell myself. "No. You can hardly pay attention to what she likes because you want to wear what's comfortable. What you enjoy. But this isn't about you. Come on."

We push through the doors like we own the place. We find some poor salesgirl and hunt her down, corner her. We demand her full attention in a way we never have before. We we work together, the shadow and I, we make a highly effective team.

The outfit ends up being a button up number from the 80's of which the color is damn-near perfect along with a pair of well-fitting slacks that are anything but too dressy. "Don't forget the shoes," it says to my reflection. "The shoes, new underwear and new socks. Nice pairs of each. Show her this is about her." When I ask my shadow if it's wants me to pluck my eyebrows as well I can feel it scream for the first time. "Don't get in the way. You're being consulted, not asked."

I smile at my reflection and it smiles back at me.

There's plenty of time back home to fix dinner, put it out on the table and spot check the house.

"Come into my parlor," says my shadow before we hear the door open.

You've had a long day, that much is clear by looking at you, but instead of saying hello or doing our normal routine I float to you, take you by the hands and squeeze them gently as I kiss you. "I'm going to fuck you up, little girl," the voice says as you kiss me back. But it quiets when I move my hands to your hips and guide you to the dinner table.

You hardly say a thing about my outfit but from your eyes I see you notice. You tell me small things about how you appreciate the cleaning up, the dinner and how you've had such a long, hard day. "She's going to keep saying it," the shadow tells me, and it goes wild when you repeat it. "See? See how she's trying to wiggle out of this? Do you really think she would have done that to the man she just met? No. Keep smiling. Nod in agreement. Be you. It's almost time for me."

So I tell you to take a shower. I'll do the dishes. Don't you worry about it I say behind blue eyes with flexing muscles. You offer token resistance before kissing my cheek and heading off.

That's when the final battle begins. "Your. Cheek." The Shadow says as I clean the dishes. "Such a long hard day. She can't even show appreciation. Just gives you a kiss on the cheek." I finish the dishes, clear the table. Find myself devoid of anything to do and that's when the voice is strongest. "Let me show you how it's done. Just one night. You can go back tomorrow."

Then it's just me and the monster, alone in the dark. The world doesn't exist at all and you might as well be a million miles away. The monster paces back and forth in it's cage, the composure lost, spouting steam so hot that it fogs my glasses from here. It grabs the cage I made for him and screams so loud it gives children nightmares before falling back into it's pace. With each iteration of it's eyes never leave me. It's head snaps as it turns, head bowed down, shoulders up, body leaning forward.

It isn't until I grasp the handle that it stops.

"Don't worry," it says, touching my hand tenderly. "You're going to love this, too."

You're only a few steps out of the shower before my hands grab you, take you, push you against the wall. When you complain I can't even hear the words over the beating of my heart. I take up the panties you've discarded and shove them into your mouth. "Shut the fuck up," we say as a whisper in your ear. "You don't want to find out what happens if you say no to me tonight."

I wait until you nod before I rip the towel off your head, the second off your body. You try and conceal, moving your arms in front to cloth yourself. "Hands to your side," we say. And when you comply we look at you. We take every detail in. We make sure you see us doing it, look you in the eye, and then go over your body again. "Turn around," we demand. "Spin. I want to see all of you."

When you don't comply immediately I put my hand on your hips and start to rotate you manually with rough juts until you show me the whole of you, every part but the eyes you keep cast on the ground.

My lips touch your shoulders, my hands play over the curve of your ass. I grab it with both hands so hard that it lifts you, pushes you against the wall. That's when I kiss your shoulder blade, your neck and slowly to the edge of your ear. "You're not going to fuck me because I cleaned up or made dinner. You're not going to fuck me because I dressed up nice and fancy for you. You're going to fuck me because I want it. You're going to fuck me as hard as you can or we're going to keep going until you do. And then, after it's all over, you're going to say thank you."

I push against you so hard that face presses into the wall, I sandwich you there in the close quarters, your naked, dripping body held in place by the brute force of me pressing against you.

Then I step back, let you drop. Wait for you to gather up the courage to look me in the eyes again and tell you move to the bedroom. I follow behind you like a specter, stalking and looming with my breath on your neck.

When we reach the bedroom door I stop you, put my hands on your shoulders and hold you until you are still. "It's been too long since she's agreed to the contract," the Shadow says. I agree. I push you right to the edge of the bedroom and whisper in your ear. "If you take another step forward you can't say no to me tonight. You can't leave this room. You can't do anything other than fulfill my every request. Do you understand?"

You nod and I let you step back. I want to shove you through it. Drag you by your wrist. Coax you with sweet words and kisses—whatever it would take to make you walk in so I can use you in any way I see fit.

Water drips from your body, wet hair drags along your back as your head twists in cogitation.

Then you step into the darkness, your shoulders hung low and I follow you into it, closing the door behind us for no other reason then to show you that you're trapped.

My hands find your hips, guide you to the bed with a single, knowing push. "Bend over," we say, "put your hands on the mattress." Then we hear you bend over, the slight groan of our bed. That's when we retreat backward, kick off our shoes, lean against the wall and wait.

We wait because the light is coming into our eyes. Because your pose is so much more uncomfortable than ours. Because every moment that you are there, waiting, is torture. And we want to torture you.

The monster strains at the bit until I move forward, place my hands in your hair and push your face into the mattress. Then I stroke your hair roughly, coarsely, in such a way that will misshapen it tomorrow. It's dominance, pure and simple. The kind that you can only get from someone who knows you. Your weak spots. Someone who avoids them at every other turn.

"I always love your hair," I say as I play through it, massaging your scalp gently before playing with the wet strands. "You never let me play with it enough." The moment is sweet and tender before I shove your face into the blanket. "Say your sorry." And I continue to press your face down until you muffle out the word several times.

The Shadow is on fire. It demands a turn and I hand you over.

It pulls you back up by your hair with a rough jerk, then tilts your head back. Its teeth move over your skin and end at your ear. "I'm going to fuck you up tonight. I'm going to make you say I'm sorry so many more times than that and the only thing you can do to save yourself from me is try and please me. Be useful. Do you understand?" But the Shadow doesn't give a shit if you answer. It licks your ear before shoving you forward, spreading your legs and pushing the bulge of our cock against your pussy.

We grab your hips together, hold you down, and move our pelvis back and forth, the faint echo of denim entering you before pulling out again, our cock so hard that we can't stand it but will keep pretending. Just to hold you there. To keep you there. To make you ours.

The Shadow undoes our fly, unzips the jeans and pushes our clothed cock into your, just the quarter-inch it can muster. Just that little bit inside you that makes you body shake and tremble. "Do you want foreplay, little girl? Do you want to be kissed and pampered and stroked? Do you want to say what a nice job you did in the kitchen and then whine about your hard week?" It slaps your ass so hard there's a crack like thunder in the room.

I try and pull the Shadow back.

"Of course you do. That's who you are. You'll ask for everything to go your way until the point that it no longer interests you." I tell the Shadow to stop. "That you'll use and neglect the only man who's ever really cared for you just because of your own selfish heart gets in the way."

And that's when I realize that I have no control over the Shadow at all. That's why I put it in the cage to begin with. You can't let something like that out and expect it to play nice.

I'm powerless as the Shadow flips you over, pulls you by your wrists and drags you across the wooden floor of our bedroom to a corner. As you whimper it only bends down to growl at you. "Cry and I'll give you something to really cry about. Look me in the eyes." I can see you pleading from behind them to me, but I'm as lost in this as you are."Undress me," the Shadow demands.

Your shaking hands struggle with every button. "Faster," the Shadow demands. "Don't tear a button or I'll take it out of your skin. Faster. FASTER!" The last word is a pure roar. It comes out at a normal volume but it is deafening in its inhumanity. "When I tell you do so something you do it, take the shirt off me, I didn't tell you that you could stand up, take the shirt off me. Take the shirt off me. Look me in the eyes, don't look away again. I will hurt you. Take off my shirt."

You cry. You quiver. You plead with me, the man no longer in control. "I can't."

"You what?" The Shadow bends down to cup your beautiful face in it's massive paw. "Are you brave enough to say that again? With me so close to your throat?"

"There's no way. I'm too small, I can't reach."

"That's right, little girl. You're far too small." The Shadow says before bending forward. "Go ahead. I'm far enough down that even you can manage. Take it off." And when you do. "Now crawl over to the nightstand and hang it up. Good girl. Come back, make it snappy. I don't give a shit about how it feels on your kneels. Crawl back. Take off my pants. Oh look at how easy that is. How quickly you can get to the area around my cock."

The Shadow steps out of our socks, throws our pants against the wall with a thud. When you tilt your head away from the noise be bends down, claps his hands together just beside your ear. He does it just to make you recoil, shift, get you on your back-heel and it works.

I'm sorry. I had no idea this would happen. Not like this.

He takes your hands and puts them on the trim of his underwear. "Look at it. How nice it is. Look at what the man who loves you did just to be snubbed. Dig your fingers into the waste-band." You do. "Now take me into your mouth, through the fabric. That's it. Suck. Stroke. Rock your head back and forth. Good girl."

And you suck his cock harder through the underwear than you have mine in months. I feel sick to my stomach while the Shadow laughs at me. Grabs you by the hair and pushes you down. You don't even fight him. You just hold still as he fucks your face.

"Now take them off," the Shadow demands and you do before opening your mouth again."

I can hear the skin of your knees being rubbed raw by the face and forth motion of his cock in your mouth. He isn't violent, or demanding, just moving in and out. A power play. Showing you how in control he is. "The next time I tell you to blow," he hisses, "I expect you to to blow me for all you're worth. Or else we're going to have to revisit this position. Do you understand?" Right as you begin to answer he shoves inside you. He knows you can't take it, not in this position, but he waited until you were opening up your throat to do it all the same.

You splutter, you choke.

You grab him tighter, cling to him, and I want to scream at you for the infidelity.

He pulls out of your mouth with such slow grace that I'm envious. Then he lifts you, throws your over his shoulder and tosses you onto the bed. He throws you to it from a meter away before letting lose another growl and pouncing on you from there.

And just like that he's between he your legs, he's holding you down from behind, opening you up and pushing your back into the bed while I watch helplessly.

"This is how you pay back a man who shows you love, devotion?" The Shadow's cock is like a molten spear and he shoves it into you with greater ease than I've ever known before pulling your hair to tilt your head back. "This is how you chase it away, isn't it? Kill it with a thousand comfortable nights?" His face gets so close to yours that this teeth gnash against your lips. "Do you feel it? The love he had from you draining away with every denial? My power coming back?' He shoves all the way into you and you scream out in pleasure. Then his voice is lower, darker, coming from somewhere deep within and I realize he is talking to us both.

"You thought you were done with me. That's the part that's funny. Because no matter what you do? No matter what you try? I will always be here, waiting for you." And he clenches your lips between his teeth before letting your hair and face fall, his hands digging into your back, and his hips beginning to pump like he's not human.

He uses you like a springboard, his palms flat against you as he begins to thump in and out with incredible speed. There's only the sounds to witness as I can't even feel my body, just the sensation of him fucking you. The sloshing of your pussy juices with every push, so wet there's a slick popping sound every time he's nearly out. The trembling of your body, shaking so hard the blanket rustles. The sound of skin pounding skin, burning it just by touch alone.

And finally, the building wail. He's completely silent, his eyes narrowed on the back of your head, but you? You're starting to moan in such a way you never stop. One gasp just melds into the next and it's building. It's coming faster.

And he, without so much making a grunt, speeds up as well.

If you are showing any sign of resisting him, I cannot see it from my numb, possessed body. You are giving yourself wholly and greedily to him and I hate you for it. The way I can see your head twisting from left to right in such pleasure. It makes me hate you.