The Beauty:
The door creaks with a screech shaking my consciousness. I'm a victim of the in between of the sleep realm. Fully aware of my surroundings but absorbed in the peace that slumber brings.
The bed dips and your hand is soon over my mouth. You straddle my hips, pinning me with your thighs tightened around mine. My eyes shoot open as real panic invades my drowsy mind. The room is dark except for the small nightlight in the corner. The glow kisses your handsome face just enough for me to see the beast that dances in your dark eyes. He gives no mercy and feels no sympathy, granting me an escape that is too ugly for anyone else to understand.
But not you. You understand the side of me that craves your cruelness. The feelings of strength and power that your sadism brings me when the World makes me feel weak and unseen. I find clarity in the unrequited, your honesty is like a shield. You let me feel without judgement as I shatter for you with a trust I've never granted another. Dancing with you is a taste of the divine.
You are my villain, and in this life I've learned, it's the villains that keep us safe from the prideful heroes.
I push up on my hips, bucking my body against yours as I strive to get you off me. It's worthless and a waste of energy, because you don't hold back the fight of your own. You're ruthless, even with only one free hand your strength trumps mine. Flames burst over my exposed tits when you start slapping at them with your heavy and steady hand. You want my fight. The primal side of you craving it.
I scream into your hand releasing every negative emotion that's been sickening my psyche like a plague this week. The release is refreshing and drives my fight further. I dig my nails into your forearm and hit anywhere on your body that I can reach. It does nothing to phase you, your resolve is a titanium shield.
You finally have enough of my antics because the pads of your fingers push into my arms in a bruising grip as you quickly take control and force them above my head. I stare up at you, but my vision fails me. It's stolen in a blur by the tears that won't stop.
I get control of myself when I feel your tongue dart out against my cheek as you collect the tears that bleed from my eyes. Anxiety beats its way through my body in a charge of dizzying epinephrine. It's hard to breath with your hand over my mouth and it only adds to my panic. You have me trapped. Mentally and physically. A mess of fear and lust. Wanting to run, but needing to stay.
"Even dressed in fear, you are the most perfect thing that I own." Your whisper is laced with malice that should have me shivering in horror, but I only find comfort in the promises of what's to come. "I've been watching you all day Princess, moving silently through your house like a shadow."
Instinct is something we should never ignore. I felt your presence and your eyes on me, but I thought it was a delusion I grasped onto at your sudden lack of attention.
My screams are strangled against the palm of your large hand when you pinch my earlobe between your teeth. The piercing pain launches me into another useless frenzy of fighting against you. My head lashes from side to side in hopes that I can at least get you to remove your hand. You growl in pleasure getting off on my pathetic fight. "Your screams are my favorite song." You provoke.
You warned me that the next time I saw you, I wouldn't be prepared or know it was coming. My fear would be genuine. You'd hurt me and use my body until I accept that I'm nothing but a toy for you. The memory of your whispered promises causes me to grow wetter between my bare legs.
You reach for something on my nightstand, and I quickly still when I hear a hissing sound cut through the air. "I brought your favorite toy." You taunt like the bully at the playground. It's unnecessary. Really.
My eyes widen when you hold the electroshock blade to my throat. I'm thankful when you finally remove your palm from my mouth and I'm able to pull in a deep breath. You have me exactly where you want me. You know the mere thought of it zapping against my flesh is revolting. Almost nausea inducing.
Out of all the limits you've pushed me to, it is my kryptonite. Physically it's harmless, but mentally it's the grossest and cringe worthy thing that there is. Equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. Or someone lacking common sense. I hate it, and in this moment I hate you for using it against me.
"I bet you're still wet from making yourself cum. I've been hard ever since I heard my name slip from your lips with your quavering moans." You trace the blade down my body circling my tits, holding it against my nipple. I tremble under the intensity of your focused stare.
You continue your venture with the torture device finally stopping between my legs. I shake my head and squeeze my legs together. Icy fear spiraling around my heart. I'm nowhere close to checking out, but this is unhinged.
Even for you.
"Are you denying me what's mine?" You tsk. I see you didn't forget your coldness, it's ever present. "Open them or I will force them open."
I boldly meet your eyes and stiffen my body like a straight board in defiance, squeezing my thighs like I'm attempting to bust a melon between them. "Good luck."
