Fin paused, looking out the window, as if to see someone, and found only his reflection. He cleared his throat, and spoke.
"I'd rather not talk about it."
"That's fine. Did you submit to her?"
"At first. But she showed me what she wanted actually. Dominance. I was in love. She fit my...soul like a second skin."
"Did she enjoy this submission?"
"Too much. That's why there were issues later."
"Was this woman single?"
"Married."
"So this was an affair?"
"Not quite."
"I see. Fin our time here is almost up, I would like you to keep practicing affirmations daily to explore how you don't need to have these desires intrude on a healthy relationship. Keep writing in your journal."
"I will. Thank you Dr. Jaeden. I'll make an appointment for next week."
"See you soon. Take care."
Fin stood, carefully slid the chair back in and exited, black combat boots thudding against the floor, he made an appointment and left. He drove to Last Exit in silence, no music, no words, no thoughts, as he preferred.
When he arrived he prepped for the day, checked volume on hand for spirits, inspected keg lines and taps, methodical and tried. It may be a dive bar, but it was his legacy, his father worked to build it up, Fin would now be its caretaker, it's steward, resolute and disciplined.
Once done, he made his way to the back office and locked the door behind him. His session reminded him of Grace, his ex-fiance. He remembered the very last time they were intimate, the cool refrain of the fan overhead adding to his pleasure as he felt his cock stiffen.
Fin recalled how he had met Grace at a fundraiser hosted by the provost of a local Catholic university. She awkwardly stood out, taller than every other woman there, caramel skin, adult braces, with an innocent face that he immediately adored. She was shy, timid, and not quick to agree to Fin's courtesy and advances. But eventually, she allowed him to court her.
Their relationship grew, tender and direct, for the first time ever she reached climax with Fin's tongue, never having had a man go down on her, bring her over that ledge of pleasure. She savored every time they fucked, she gave all of herself to him. Over the next year, she noticed he seemed increasingly detached, no matter how much he showed he loved her, her carnal cravings for him were met with timidity, a growing reversal of the initial flare of their relationship.
To her shock, he had proposed to her during her birthday, she said yes, the ring he offered was stunning, she didn't dare refuse. That night he spoke of his desires, listed what he wanted her to experience. She was aghast. He assured her that if she didn't enjoy it, he wouldn't ask her to do it again. Ever. She pondered for three weeks, clarifying his intent, before she agreed, near Halloween. Fin was precise in all his requirements, instructing her on every aspect of this role play scenario that she found to be infinitely disturbing. Fin told her that there was only one safe word "Sophia".
That Halloween night, Grace stood, as she was instructed, winged eyeliner, auburn pigtails, her cheer leading uniform pristine; with a fashionable teal Fjällräven backpack, tapping the toes of her all white, crisp Adidas Gazelle's, as if to be picked up after cheer practice. She had agreed to the performance of her life, out of love, out of desire for him. She would regret what it would reveal about them both.
Grace stood, as instructed, pom poms in hand, one knee crossed over the other, looking innocent, bratty, and bored, twirling one of her pigtails around her finger callously. Fin quickly approached from behind, a stalking shadow behind her was all Grace saw before he wrapped a length of electric cord around her thin neck, dragging her backwards into a car parked behind an alley, his biceps and shoulders stinging with the effort of dragging the tall, lithe woman across the pock marked asphalt. She could already feel herself weeping in regret. As for Fin, his cock stiffened with every step, scrape, and kick of her fruitless resistance.
She let loose a choked scream as her long legs kicked out, white sneakers already scraped, scuffed and dirtied. She struggled wildly, shocked at how stiff the cord has become, her vision already blurring, a bruise forming around her neck, Fin's leather gloves visible as her head started to slacken.
As he dragged her, her foot slammed into a dumpster, shuddering its lid, if she could have screamed she would have, but the cord wrapped around her throat was too tight, there was no restraint from Fin, inducing within her a pure expression of terror. She was dragged past the dim lights, emptied barrels and puddles, the filthy water within splashing up against her skirt as she thrashed. The trust she had placed in him disappeared with her own breath.
The abandoned building he dragged her into was cramped, and meticulously prepared. The placement of every broken item, was intricate, purposeful, a set Fin had designed. A single floodlight gouged away at the dark. As he dragged her near the hot lamp, he let part of the cord fall slack, to return the color he had greedily stole from her face. She winced and coughed, deep and rattling, lungs tortured as she tried to restore her vision.
Fin knelt in front of her, and helped her sit up right, embracing her tightly, running his hand against the back of her head, kissing her deeply, as if to breathe back into her lungs. He began dressing her with rope, rough and scratching, wrists bound behind her waist, triple knotted. He took the remainder of the rope, and created a pentagram shape around her flat chest, knotting the rest around her neck and tied back down around her wrists, he treated each pass of the rope like a brush against a canvas, deliberate, tender in his brutality. He finished with a sign of the cross.
He peeled her jaw down, and placed a pill in her mouth, MDMA, cupped her mouth and massaged her throat, treating her no better than a dog.
"Swallow it."
She had no idea what he was doing, this hadn't been planned.
"What...what was that?
"Something to help you relax."
Fin took a piece of dense black cloth from his back pocket, smothering it across the ground, picking up grit, sand and dust in it. He lovingly blindfolded Grace, tying it as one would a ribbon for a gift, her eyes immediately burning, false eyelashes now a cage for the floor's jagged granules. She blinked rapidly as the world closed around her, her mascara already running as she wept, breaking into a nervous sob, Fin's gloved hands held her face as he spoke into her ear with softness as she winced.
"I love you enough, that I don't want you to see what I'm going to do to you."
She winced as her lips quivered, a boiling sensation rising in her stomach, pulse quickening, panting as her world turned dark, and Fin kissed her cheek. He grabbed a short piece of rebar, no bigger than six inches, he tapped her lips with it. He spoke, his voice, a promise of restrained violence.
"Open up. Bite down."
She did as instructed, tasting rust, the stench of old iron suffocating her palette. As she held the bar between her teeth, she heard the sweeping lock of a folding knife.
She felt the flat of the blade run across her thigh, not a single nick, every movement surgical. She felt the edge slip under her white panties, cutting. Fin ripped the rest off with ease. She heard some soft movement and felt his gloved hand move against her silken, bare cunt. She was appalled that she was wet, her body twitching with every sensation.
She struggled as instructed, in part no longer acting, as he slowly extracted the rebar, her teeth aching as it dragged across her enamel, a crude file, clipping against her braces. As he tossed it aside, it slid into a corner with an echoing clang, she sobbed and spoke.
"Fin, please..."
He kissed her, hands gently around her face, she realized as his lips tenderly pressed against hers, that their engagement was over, her future hopes laid to waste.
As she sniffled, he grabbed her plain white panties, now rubbed in dirt and shoved them inside her mouth till she gagged. He stood her up and pushed her against the wall, lifting her skirt, pinning her firmly with his forearm against her throat. His fingers spread her labia, his thumb pressed against her clit, applying excessive pressure, circular motions, changing, now lighter taps, transitioning to motions that were drawn in complex directions, each one tugging at her nerves. He was searching for the angle that was her own, the touch that thrilled her, the one he knew, she moaned through her panties, he could feel her tighten. He stopped, denying her. He kissed her forehead, leaned down to kiss her, and spit in her mouth as her lips parted.
She mumbled frantically, no matter her degradation, she craved release. He checked his watch, still pinning her, waiting a minute as she writhed, her hands clenching into fists with need. He tapped her clit, firm, rubbing it, fingers curved with a fondness for her, she writhed in response. He stopped again. She was now sobbing, her need for release impending, with her thighs clenched to try and generate any motion to for release. He leaned over and tapped her clit once, dragged a finger over it, tapped again, continuing her agony as she shook. She screamed through her panties, now a heavy, spit soaked gag in her mouth that she tried to eject past her lips, to no avail as Fin shoved them back in again with his whole hand, her jaw burning as his forearm pushed deeper into her neck.
He spread his fingers around her clit, pulling them wide, moving his other hand between her thighs, using his body to hold her against the wall, first a single finger, than two, than three as she winced from the stretching. He splayed his fingers inside, his other hand ensuring her clit was never close to being touched, she was kicking now, purring and whining, as her release beckoned. She felt weightless, grimacing, before his fingers slid over her slowly, her delicate panting turning into rapture that boiled over inside her entire body. He let her fall to her knees. Grace couldn't see, even with the prominent flood light, what remained of her vision underneath the blindfold post orgasm clarity, was a prism of angled lights writhing in the dark.
She heard a thud behind her, heavy, dull. She felt herself rise, Fin's arms underneath her, until he shoved her onto the cinder block scraping against her rear, he wrenched her legs to the side, her waist aching, and bent her over the cinderblock, presenting her slim rear up in the air. Fin's hand moved to her throat from behind, his grasp tightened, she heard the scattered sound of a bottle, the echo of empty glass unmistakable.
She than felt it, the lip of the beer bottle slowly pressing against her cunt, threatening in it's eventual excess width. She shook her head, trying to spit out the safe word as the panties rolled inside her mouth. He leaned forward, pressing her down, pushing the breath out of her chest, and choked her with his hand, silencing any protest. She felt the ache of the cinderblock she sat on, the angular edge pressed into her stomach, as the bottle that Fin achingly, slowly inserted into her swollen cunt. Her lip quivered, she thrashed and writhed, worrying it would crack.
Her pussy burned, ached, the bottle's girth inside her, past it's neck, she cried out as he slid the swell of the bottle further. He spit on his cock, rubbed it down to his hilt, and pressed it against her puckered hole, and didn't heed any resistance her body could muster, he grabbed her bound wrists for leverage, and pushed his cock down to his base, relentless, controlling as he immediately began thrusting inside, the bottle dangling precariously as her eyes bulged and she screamed, she was his choir of pain.
She could smell her blood, the festering mold of the room, a suffocating aroma of ammonia as she found pleasure, coursing, her temples aching, her body fall limp, resistance quelled as she dissociated, beneath the blindfold her eyes rolled back, and from her arm, she felt the knife drag it's point across her shoulder, a hasty slice with a trickle of blood, moving it to her throat, blade flat and firm between his grasp, the rope being her only guard, her only protection as she felt the corded rope part, slowly, as the knife's edge turned inwards, sawing, serrations catching on the binding until he paused, and the edge ceased, as she felt herself angled down off the cinderblock, bent over, thighs kicking pointlessly as her skirt barely concealed her violation, bottle scraping against the block with a hollow roughness as Fin throttled her, her body betrayed her, she moaned through the panties drenched in her mouth as thick strands of drool spilled past her lips, dripping to the floor, melding with grit and dirt.
A cracking sound shot through the room, her mouth fell aghast as the bottle cracked, but didn't break. She stilled every muscle, sinew, held her breath as Fin extracted the bottle from her ruined and gaped hole. He pushed her over the cinderblock, face up, as he mounted her chest, ripping her panties out of her mouth, and pushing his cock past her lips, she tasted her own sweat, her own membrane, as he drove her head flat, against the uneven ground, grasping at her pigtails as she gagged and sputtered, her back aching, her shoulder blades pinched as he facefucked her. He felt her braces slip against his cockhead as he thrust into her cheek, he yanked her head forwards, now in her throat, he could feel her legs buck, her waist turn in desperation, along with a growing fury inside her, of lust, rapture, and wanton release. He pulled out and stood, letting her head fall back, he crouched below her, he took the knife and dragged it softly down the front of her cheerleading uniform.
He cut down her skirt, parting the fabric with ease, he circled back up, reverse grip, cutting past her navel, to where the rope ended, a trickle of blood ran down, across her tan skin, down her dirtied pelvis and scuffed thighs. He dragged the flat of the blade down across her thigh as she shuddered, and moaned, she spoke.
"Fin, please Sophia, Sophia." She repeated the safe word endlessly.
He looked at her.
"Shhh. You're not Sophia. I love you differently Grace. You look so beautiful."
He held a broken piece of glass up so she could see herself reflected, a fragmented, deranged vision of whatever laid inside Fin's mind, whatever broken manifestation inside him, was put onto her. He threw the shard away and stood her up, he laid down and forced her down on top of his cock, her wrists burned behind her back, he ushered her down on his length as she winced, he ripped what remained of her skit away, his hands dug into her waist, the faintest trail of her knicked chest leaving a small bloody trail down to her clit. He rubbed it, and held her and pushed her down atop him, kissing her passionately, surprised, delighted to feel her return his kisses with the same exuberance, her hips slamming against his waist, as her tennis shoes blackened in soot dug deep besides his thighs.
She felt him each of her thrusts, their union, she could feel his artful cock, press deep in her, he returned her movements, each one vital, as his leather clad hand ran down her thighs, she moaned loudly, her body in trance. He grabbed her face and kissed her deeply, licking the side of her face and biting her neck, deep, hard, drawing blood and bruising, finally from under her breath, with him deep inside her, cockhead locked against her cervix, her pressure mounting she sighed and groaned, words failing her as she shuddered violently. Her climax burned through her, her stomach sunk, her breathing caught as if being in an exorcism, Fin filled her cunt among the filth and the dark, flooding her with cum, her only thought being if her soul could bare the guilt, if she would conceive here. Her faith, her consciousness could not permit such an idea, no matter how good it felt. No matter what she wanted, no matter how much it pained her, to love someone like Fin, what she now knew about him, about herself, could never be undone. He tortured everything around him, and wore a mask that said otherwise.
