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The chain of events that led you here had been cruel and unforgiving. 10 months ago, you’d lost your employment. A ruthless job market had done you no favors. 8 months ago, you were evicted from your apartment. Couch surfing could only take you so far. 6 months ago, you started living out of your car. Gas prices were increasingly expensive. 4 months ago, you ran out of money. Food banks were less helpful when you didn’t have a kitchen. 2 months ago, you sold your body for the very first time. What choice did you have left? 1 hour ago, your car broke down on the outskirts of town. As if you hadn’t fucking lost enough. 

After half a mile walking on frostbitten toes, the lonely, run-down chapel that stood before you felt like a true miracle. Cement steps led up to the entrance, a small green door that matched the shutters on each window. Light seeped through the stained glass, the only sign of life you’d seen in your last hour trudging along the icy street. With little else to lose, your legs lifted up the first steps - numb, trembling fingers clasping around the bronze door-knocker. Bringing the metal down upon itself once…twice… 

A soothing warmth crashed over your worn body - the entrance creaking open to reveal a pastor standing beneath the frame. He towered above you, clean-cut appearance contrasting drastically against your unkempt state. Light glinted off the gold cross necklace just below the collar of his white button-up shirt. Brows knitted together and lips pursed - he ushered you inside without a word, a hand on your waist guiding you into the warmth of the small chapel. Suddenly surrounded by the luxury of a tepid environment, your knees nearly buckled at the drastic shift in temperature. Eyes dragged down your body, taking in your rundown form - the fingers around your waist tightening imperceptibly. A palpable flurry of something between judgement and concern radiated off of the man before he’d even said anything. 

“Your coat, please.” Stepping away from you, he held his arm out far from his body - as if he was taking a piece of soiled underwear. Itchy, wet wool shrugging away from your skin; you slipped off the snow-coated secondhand jacket and draped it over his arm. You could’ve sworn his nose scrunched in distaste as the moist fabric made contact with the exposed skin of his wrist. Your attire was probably the most scandalous thing the walls of this tiny church had ever seen. Studying your exposed skin, his throat bobbed - tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“You look…” The pastor hesitated, his eyes drifting down to the hardened nipples peaking out from under your thin dress. “Freezing.” A flush of shame climbed up your cheeks, though nothing he could say made you feel even a modicum of the horror that you’d felt hearing the crude remarks of the many men who’d frequented your station wagon’s backseat. 

“Stay here. You’ll get sick if you're not warmed up.” Voice low and stern, you couldn’t help but feel like a scolded child. The pastor rushed down the hallway with your soggy coat in tow. Standing alone and shivering in the empty nave, you finally had a moment to take in your surroundings. White walls stood halfway dry, buckets of paint sitting on the floor atop a layer of plastic sheeting. A circular saw in the corner sat surrounded with timber planks of varying sizes - the earthy aroma of fresh sawdust still permeating the air. The room was almost entirely empty otherwise, save for a handful of old wooden pews covered in canvas tarp. Though it resembled a construction site more than a church - it felt like the closest thing to safety you had felt in a long time. 

Approaching footsteps snapped you out of your comfortable daze, the pastor returning to your side. One hand rested upon your lower back - the other clutching a mug of steaming hot instant cocoa.

“Come along.” Uttering a quiet ‘yes sir’ in response, his gentle push ushered you down the same hallway he’d just emerged from - passing several doors. Light became increasingly scarce as you approached a rickety descending staircase. Joints aching with each step downwards, every movement of your feet caused a strained groan to croak from the aging wood. The parish basement felt an odd choice for introductions, but limbs still trembling with the looming threat of hypothermia, you were in no position to be questioning a stranger’s generosity. 

Darkness surrounded you before the pastor pulled on a low-hanging string, a single vintage Edison bulb casting a soft yellow glow over the windowless space. Cement walls surrounded you, dust caked onto every inch of the unfinished floors. Steam emanating off the rusted water heater beneath the stairs filled your nostrils with a musty, metallic vapor. Humid warmth penetrated your chilled bones, the tall man steering you towards the dingy upholstered couch resting against the left wall. A handmade linen quilt adorned with various bible scriptures laid over the armrest - the pastor gently slinging it over your shoulders as your back made contact with the lumpy cushions of the sofa. Heated ceramic hugged your palms - the mug of rich liquid handed from his grasp to yours. 

“Let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death.” The timbre of his voice felt heavy, much like the weighted linen blanket hugging your frame. Springs creaked under his weight as the pastor reclined beside you, his arm sliding behind you onto the backrest of the sofa. Despite the lack of any outward critiques, the evangelical judgement radiating off of him was palpable even in your frozen haze. Something about the specific verse he’s chosen made your stomach swim with nerves, but it was still preferable to the slimy objectification you’d grown so used to. It was impolite to continue being as quiet as you’d been, but how do you thank somebody for saving your life without grovelling at their feet? Swallowing down your mouthful of cocoa, you stared down at the swirling mug of temperate chocolate while a stiff silence formed around the two of you.

Dark eyes bored through the side of your head, the weight of his stare a foreboding presence. He examined the smudged mascara beneath your eyes, the cold flush eating up the tip of your nose, the remnants of glitter splattered across your cheeks; something you only did to lure in tricks.. Bringing the drink to your lips once more, you tried to keep a steady expression as your dissociated focus fixed on the filthy cement ground. Peripheral vision fuzzy, you almost didn’t see his eyes trail lower… lower… lower - fixing on your chest and staying there. 

“God is benevolent,” He began, cutting the tension, although his steely gaze was still fixed on your breasts. “Understanding, completely empathetic - there’s not a thing in the world you could’ve done that He won’t forgive.” His deep, slightly southern drawl crawled a wavering line between threat and comfort. The sentiment was nice, nothing you hadn’t heard before. There had been plenty of parishioners who had shared a night or two in the comfort of your car, always eager to preach at you as if they weren't equally guilty of sin - their adulterating cocks perfectly snug inside your welcoming cunt. As your cup sipped closer and closer to empty, his body subtly shifted into yours - beige slacks rubbing against the bare skin of your thigh. 

“If you repent, that is.” Comfort was out the window, his words dripping with imminent doom. The arm that had rested behind you was now firmly planted over your shoulder, his hand tightening around your bicep. Hot breath drifting over the side of your cheek, you couldn’t bear to meet the eyes that were now fixed firmly on your face. Maybe your frigid backseat would’ve been more comfortable than this. Glance flipping over his way, you were immediately struck by just how close he was. The fine crow’s feet next to his threat-filled eyes, the sprouting stubble upon his shaved jawline, the gentle curve of his chiseled cheekbones. Undeniable beauty wasn’t enough to make him any less intimidating. His woodsy aftershave smelled so strongly that you momentarily forgot the overpowering dank stench of the chapel basement. 

“Now that you’re feeling more comfortable,” Digits clenched around your flesh, your body locked in place - breath freezing within your ribcage. “Why don’t you tell me what a bright young woman such as yourself was doing out there in the cold at such an hour?” Questioning had been expected when you’d thrown yourself onto his chapel’s doorstep like a sick stray outside the pound, but the merciful nature you’d expected from a man like him was nowhere to be seen. Aches pulsed through every joint in your body as you shifted in discomfort beneath him, a silent reminder of why you came here in the first place. Survival. Let’s not forget that you have nowhere else to go. 

“My…” You considered your word choice carefully. “My car broke down. Right towards the end of Exitus Road, my phone was dead. I-It was too cold to sit and wait for help.”

“Where are you staying, then? I can take you home.” Dark eyes dragged down the rips on your nylons, traipsing back up to study the smeared makeup upon your cheeks. Your gaze darted away from his, a crimson flush of embarrassment quickly coloring your complexion. He knew, you knew; the cockroaches skittering down the stone walls knew. It might as well have been plastered across your chest. Homeless whore. Mumbling under your breath, you stuttered out a pathetic attempt at a reply. 

“...I was staying in the car…” The corners of his mouth curved in a miniscule movement that you wouldn’t have caught had he not inserted his presence so close to yours. 

“I see,” Another tightening of his digits around your shoulder. “Well, shelter is always available here to those who require it, and it sure sounds like you do.” Anything is better than dying of hypothermia in the backseat of a broken down station wagon. Surely there’s nothing he could subject you to that’s any worse than what you’ve already endured the past few months. 

“As I hope you can understand, it’s a requirement that those who stay under our roof surrender themselves fully to the Lord. That’ll be alright with you, I’m sure,” His fingers toyed with the thin fabric of your cotton t-shirt dress. “Considering your...situation.” An overly agreeable nod fell from your shoulders, the prospect of a free, warm roof over your head driving away the rising fear in your gut. The pastor continued, adjusting his collar with his free hand. Tone low and gravelly - his digits swirling in the ends of your tangled hair. 

“A girl of your… position,” A gentle tug of your hair tilted your head towards his. “I’m doubting you’ve ever even stepped foot in a holy building before. Am I correct?” He was right, you weren’t a religious girl. - never had been. If there was a God, He certainly hadn’t done you any favors this past year. Reluctantly, another meek nod tilted your head up and down - whatever it takes to secure your safety. A tense, cold chuckle rang through your ears, not an ounce of compassion lacing his tone. It felt akin to being mocked by an older boy on the playground. 

“Well,” His toned arm shrank from your shoulder, hand coming to squeeze your knee with surprising strength. “Then I guess we can’t be too surprised now, can we? Faith is the foundation of all prosperity,” A thumb ran over your kneecap and back, stroking you gently. “Without it, you can surely expect nothing but hardships and failures. That’s how a pretty young thing like you becomes so… filthy with sin.” The emphasis on each harsh word pushed you further down your whirlpool of shame. Everything you’d told yourself during all those lonely nights, it was being echoed back at you, all at once. This is your fault. All of it. You did this to yourself. The flaming hot wave of self-hatred consumed you, tears welling in your eyes. A gentle coo wavered from the pastor’s lips, his fingers trailing beneath the hem of your dress to trace mindless patterns across the soft skin of your upper thigh.

“Oh, there’s no need for tears,” It was the softest you’d heard his voice since the fateful moment that he’d opened those green chapel doors. “I’ll set you out on the right path.” Tears began their free-flowing descent down your cheeks, the remnants of messy mascara running along with it. Sufficiently bruised and broken, your eyes cast down to the dusty concrete as his digits squeezed the fat of your thigh. Retracting his hands, the pastor abruptly stood - grabbing an embroidered throw pillow off the couch and tossing it to the ground in front of you. 

“Kneel.” The command that spilled from his lips felt non-negotiable in your vulnerable state, and you found yourself dropping off the couch - wobbly knees hitting the soft cushioning. Eyes squeezing shut, your hands tightened into fists at your sides. An air of dominance radiated off of him now, the comforting demeanor he’d used moments earlier washing away into a demanding want for obedience. 

“Dear Almighty Father - If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us,” His finger rested beneath your chin, gently guiding your gaze up to meet his. Eyes fluttering open, you succumb to his prayer. “To cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Amen.” Tone low and sultry, it was unlike any other hymn or verse you’d ever heard - something uniquely twisted and entirely his. Dropping his grip on your chin like you were damaged goods, he backed away and stared down at you in disdain. 

“I want you to sit here and think about the choices that led you here,” He picked at the bed of his nails, worried that you’d dirtied his spotless demeanor. “Soak in that shame. Shame is the first step of your repentance.” Excusing himself quietly, the pastor stomped back up the creaking stairs - leaving you to wallow in your regret. Cold cement seeped through the thin padding of the stitched pillow beneath you, reminding you of what awaited outside the walls of this chapel. This is your best option. This is survival. Tucking tangled strands behind your ears, you swiped away the remnants of your tears with the back of your hand. 

Heavy steps descended underground once more, heart plunging into your stomach as the pastor returned, hefting a large metal bucket and a sponge. His instructions spilled out just as firmly as before - the demand sinking straight to your core. 

“Undress.”

“But-”

“You are to be washed of your sins. Do you want shelter or not?”

Reluctantly, your trembling hands grabbed at the hem of your short dress - a loud gulp holding back the dam of tears that threatened to spill over. The thin garment fell to the floor, followed by your ripped nylons; leaving you standing in your ratty, ill-fitting bra and a pair of boyshorts that had seen better days.

“All of it. Don’t waste my time.” 

Movements hasty - you nearly tripped over your own feet as you stepped out of your underwear. The pastor’s dark eyes raked over your form, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Lip sucked between his teeth, the man continued to stare at your nude form - brows furrowed in thought and gaze fixed on your pussy. Composing himself instantaneously, a rattle ran through his throat as he dipped the large yellow sponge into the bucket’s tepid water. Wincing instinctually as the wet object squished against your exposed skin, you breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t much colder than the water in the city’s free public showers. 

“I’ve never cleansed such a tainted body. I can’t begin to imagine the filth, it’s not even visible to the eyes. It’s all the way down to your soul.” He berated you under his breath, the sponge running over every inch of you. Shivering, his barrage of degradation made you feel far worse than the exposure or the physical act itself. As the cleansing reached your breasts, the rough movement over your nipples caused them to stiffen to a point. A loud scoff echoed through the stuffy space. 

“Your body is so accustomed to being stimulated, it begs for intercourse even at the most mundane of touches,” He brushes over your nipples with the sponge, tracing circles over them. “What do you think God would say about that?” Running the sponge over your vagina, the process was much the same - he spread open your lips like you were a scientific specimen, the rough cleansing resuming over your clitoris. Shameful heat flourished across your cheeks. Survival. Survival. Survival. The sponge abruptly dropped into the bucket, a splosh of  lukewarm water wetting the floor beside your feet. One hand steadied your hip, the other spreading your folds open once more as he kneeled down in front of you - the entire ordeal started to feel like an in-depth medical exam. 

“W-what’re yo-”

“You’re remarkably impure, there’s no need to try and deny it. I know it - and so does He. Cleansing has to happen from the inside out.” Two fingers prodded at your entrance without warning, threatening to stretch open your unprepared core. Could your backseat maybe be warm enough for just one night? Tightening your muscles as a last ditch attempt to keep him out, the pastor tutted gently. 

“This must happen, whether you’re cooperative or not. I’d suggest you make it easier for yourself,” When you didn’t immediately spread your legs to accommodate him, he continued more sternly. “You wish for somewhere safe to stay, you follow my rules.” Morbid ideas swirled through your mind, theorizing about the multitude of casualties that await lest you decide to leave. A quivering inhale shook your ribcage, pelvic floor relaxing despite your qualms. Intruding digits slipped into your tight core - a strained whimper elicited from your throat, still raw from the cold. Your knees nearly buckled beneath you, face contorting with confusion at the strangely familiar intrusion; an intrusion that felt distinctly sexual rather than ritualistic.

The pastor stared ahead at your spread open center with visible interest, eyes fixed on the base of his knuckles. Fingers disappeared inside you, pumping in and out with a curling force that made your back brace. Quiet grunts, equally angry and lustful, muttered under his breath at the apex of each push. Nearly falling forward on top of him, your hand gripped onto his shoulder - pressed button-up wrinkling under your grasp. Your insides felt as though they were being scooped out as his hand retracted, walls pulsating at the loss of contact. Quietly clearing away the items used to violate you - he muttered something under his breath - mulling on about unfinished redemption. Bending down, your hand clasped around your dress on the ground as your breathing calmed. Pulling the fabric over your head, a harsh smack against your still-exposed abdomen jolted your attention back to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was laced with vitriol and a hint of arousal.

“I was just… getting dressed…”

“You won’t be needing that. We aren’t finished,” He ripped the article of clothing from your hands, picking up the remaining items off the floor. “Once you’ve been properly redeemed of your disgusting lifestyle, I’ll make sure you’re properly clothed in accordance with His word. Besides, things like this-” He holds the dress up to your body, emphasizing the short length with a scoff of judgement as you stood naked with your hands barely covering your immodesty. “Are not proper attire for a visitor of my parish.” Tossing the rest of your clothing aside like a noxious biohazard, his grip encircled around your forearm,  tugging you towards the same couch you’d sat on earlier. Heels dragging against the floor, your entire body went stiff - apprehension freezing you in place. 

“S-stop it!” You ripped your arm from his grip with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. “Please… I just want to get dressed and get some rest.” 

“Unrepentant sinners don’t sleep in my church. If you want to rest, you will do what I ask of you. If that’s too difficult for you, you’re welcome to go back outside and accept whatever fate awaits you there.” The single lightbulb illuminating the room flickered, tense silence punctuated with a howl of wind that would’ve been comical in any other circumstance. You have no choice. When did you ever have any choice? From the very beginning, your lack of choices led you into this sinister man’s waiting arms. Fate, almost - as twisted as it was. The sofa creaked loudly as he sat down, legs hanging over the edge. Patting the couch beside him as though he was summoning a cat, your lip curled in distaste at the suggestion.

“You are a slave to the flesh,” His finger’s looped under his belt, metal clinking quietly as he threaded the leather out of his khakis, folding the belt in one hand. “Conditioning is going to be the last step of your repentance. Then you’re entirely free to enjoy your rest.” The threat loomed between you. Briefly standing back up, he stepped out of his pristinely ironed pants. Another flicker of the light, a quiet hiss of escaping steam from the water heater making you jump; you crossed your arms over your breasts in a weak attempt to preserve your dignity. Loudly clearing his throat, the man’s eyebrows raised expectantly. What don’t you understand about imminent hypothermia? Listen to him already.  

Despite every single part of your brain screaming at you to run out of there, logic convinced your body to move forward, feet dragging slowly across the frigid cement floor. This was your best chance at living, there were no more choices left. This was it. Lower half now completely free of barriers, his 8-inch length stood erect against his abdomen - precum visibly leaking from the slit. Your body quivered, fear wracking every nerve as you stepped forward, shrinking into position on the cushion. Cowering away from him against the armrest, he tutted in that familiar, condescending way you’d grown so used to in your time together. Arm clenched in his grip, your body was yanked forward with no regard for your comfort - frame repositioned roughly until your face came to hover just inches above his dribbling tip. 

“I’m sure you know what to do next. Don’t be a coward now just because God is watching.” The words stung, hot tears building behind your eyeballs. Lips parting, your mouth slid over the mushroom shaped head - tongue lapping at the precum with a level of expertise that could only be acquired through your profession. A satisfied groan spilled from his chest, the only sound in the dank room beside the quiet hissing of steam from the water heater and the sloppy noise of your wet mouth around his cock. Your head bobbed up and down, tongue sliding against the flesh. Each time you felt like you should stop, you reminded yourself of the reality of your situation. Hands against his knees, you could feel the hunger in him beginning to form as his movements became rougher. His fingers interlocked with your hair, preventing you from pulling away.

“I think a whore like you should be able to do better than that,” A crack of his belt against your outer thigh jolted your whole body, the sting radiating up to your core - hot, aching pain building as the leather thwacked against your flesh again. Again. Again. Again. Face coated in fluids, mascara ran down to nothing - the base of your throat gave way to the fleshy tip of his cock, choked gags entirely ignored as he used a fistful of your hair to turn your head into his own personal fleshlight. 

Ripping you off of his length with a throaty groan, he shoved you down onto your stomach - rusty springs below you hardly cushioning the blow. A hand gripped at your hip, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising force as he lifted your lower half upwards - your body smushed into position with your ass in the air. The screech of the couch’s wooden legs against the floor matched the noise that scratched out of your abused throat as his length buried itself to the hilt inside you. Your glazed over eyes stared blankly at the floral pattern of the fabric smushed against your face - any resistance from your body now completely depleted. You had fought back. You had. So many times before. You’d fought your landlord when you received your eviction notice, you’d fought your old employer for wages you never received, you’d fought to avoid situations like this countless times in the backseat of your car. Fighting anymore was pointless, he had won - the moment he’d buried all 8 inches of his veiny cock inside your unprepared cunt. 

Aching pain sprouted in your lower belly, the surprising girth of his shaft stretching you open gave the illusion of being completely stuffed. A harsh crack of his belt against your ribcage knocked the wind out of you, an ‘oof’ forced out of your chest as he began plowing into you from behind with an intensity you didn’t think was possible - the couch scooching forward a centimeter with each thrust. He cracked his makeshift whip against your side over and over like you were a disobedient racing horse. In all your time servicing clients, you’d managed to avoid ever being completely used like this - small whimpers of pain accompanying each hard push of his fleshy tip against your sweet spot. Worse than the pain was the horrifying coil of pleasure that was blossoming under your skin - a noxious, invasive weed that was slowly overtaking the entire meadow. A small whine of need flowed out of your limp body.

“Of course you’re enjoying your punishment. I bet you need the pain - a used up slut like you.” The venom in his tone was audible even through the thick fog of lust lacing his voice. Your walls started to flutter around him, the degradation doing something sick inside your hazy mind. Pounding ruthlessly into your body - his hands grabbed at you like you were a discounted cut of meat at the supermarket. That’s all you were to him - a piece of meat, something he could chew up and spit out.  Your cunt had become comfortable with the repetitive movements of his length, slick seeping out to coat his cock. Slapping skin, wet sloshing, quiet grunts, pained moans - the orchestra of sounds that surrounded you was quickly becoming a pleasant tune to your increasingly needy mind. 

Thrusts sped up, increasingly sloppy - his grunts becoming strained and low. Grabbing onto your hips, his fingers gripped at the reddened skin and held you in place, pummeling you with disjointed pushes of his cock. Just as quickly as you’d started to enjoy it, it was ending. Another thwack rained upon your side, the hardest of any so far. Another, another, the agonizing blows continued in quick succession, matching the pace of his thrusts. Seed spurted out of him with a low groan, the wet fluid coating your insides in warmth. As soon as he finished, he pulled out, another hit landing upon your ass. Leaning back, the pastor sneered in judgmental disdain as he watched his own ejaculate flow from your used up, puffy lips. 

“Look at you, disgraceful.” It took you a moment to recuperate, chest heaving with shaking breaths as you unfolded your body - joints aching from the ragdoll treatment you’d suffered in his hands. Redressing himself with the ease of someone completely unfazed - he grabbed the quilt off the armrest - tossing it over you. The musty blanket swallowed you whole, leaving you to swim out from beneath it as the pastor chuckled lightly to himself.

“You’ve earned your shelter, girl. I do hope you enjoy it. Conditioning isn’t quite complete, but you’ll learn in time.” Before your brain could formulate a response, he had pulled the light off - plunging you into complete darkness as his steps ascended the stairs.

This Thursday evening in particular was dragging on like the carriage behind a wounded horse. Every grating conversation with a colleague drove you closer to your breaking point. You considered yourself a relatively sane woman, but the mundanity of your life recently was edging you dangerously close to a nervous breakdown. Eyes fixed on the clock in the corner of your computer screen, your nails drummed along the laminate top of your generic desk. 4:55…4:56…4:57… Your eyelids began drooping, head shooting upwards with a jolt as you nearly fell forward onto your keyboard in a sleepy haze. Sighing in relief upon seeing the time, you quickly logged off your computer, desk shaking with the quickness of you exiting your chair. As you stepped out of your cubicle, a tall suited figure loomed above, causing you to stumble almost directly into your boss’s arms. 

“Oh! Sorry about that. I… um…I’m actually glad I ran into you before you left.” His hands were resting atop your shoulders, preventing your fall. They lingered a few moments too long after you’d stabilized yourself, a slight flush rushing to his cheeks once he noticed, removing his hold. Flashing an apologetic smile, your heartbeat quickened. Glad to run into you? Crap. Your sales this month were dismal, and you hadn’t even made 10% of your quarterly projection. The hammer had to drop at some point. Swallowing down your anxiety over your imminent scolding, you managed a polite response.

“No problem, sir - I should really watch where I’m going. Was there something you needed?” He nodded, looking around over the sea of cubicles. A handful of coworkers remained at their desks, hunched over their computers. 

“Yes,” His eyes focused back at you, head tilted downward due to his towering height. “I was wondering if you would be available to stay late tonight. I have an important matter to discuss with you.” 

You’re so fucked. So totally and completely fucked.  This is what you get for thinking you could just get away with putting in absolutely no effort. Pulse pounding through your temples, you strained a thin smile and forced a nod. 

“You’re amazing,” The red hue returns to his cheeks, a rumble resounding through your eardrums while he cleared his throat.  “...Thank you. I-I’ll be in my office. Please come see me at 6.” God, he seemed nervous. That can’t be good.  The entire exchange left your bones rattling; your entire body practically vibrating with nerves at the idea of your possible unemployment.  Skulking back into your cubicle, you slumped into your creaky desk chair once more - staring up at the foam tile ceiling. Like a prisoner in line for the guillotine; your fate was certain. 

The remainder of your colleagues drained from the building over the course of the hour, leaving you staring blankly ahead at your computer’s home screen. The motion censored fluorescent lights dimmed in every part of the office beside the corner above your desk. Quiet breathing, the occasional sigh from your own chest, and the insistent clicking of the wall clock above your head - the silence was exhausting, and you found yourself nearly drifting off once more. Looking back up at the time, you realized it was 6:05. Way to go, stupid. Make yourself look even worse by being late, why don’t you?

Shuffling out of your cubicle, your shoes scuffed the scratchy carpet with each step - slowly approaching the cracked open door with your boss’s nameplate embossed on the exterior. Lamb to slaughter. This job was always a bad fit for you anyways. You hate it here. You’re miserable. You can just go back to delivering pizzas. That’s not so bad, right? A monsoon of shoddy reassurances swirled through your skull, trembling hands pushing your way into the room. The moment you entered, your boss nearly flew out of his seat. You could’ve sworn he floated for a moment.  His knees slammed into the underside of his wooden desk, a mug of lukewarm black coffee cascading over his lap. In a mindless moment of pure survival instinct, you grabbed a nearby box of tissues - snatching up a handful and kneeling down in front of him. 

“Crap, I’m so sorry - let me help!” Dabbing away at the soaked trouser legs wrapped around his thighs, you focused entirely on the task at hand. Not a single thought about this being an HR investigation waiting to happen; not until your boss’s cracking voice interrupted you.

“Th-thank you! That’s… You’re so helpful, thank you.” You really couldn’t possibly make this worse, could you? Scooting back into his desk, he skewed a handful of tissues over the mess - sliding them off into a wastebin.  It’s strange; he wasn’t nearly as intimidating as the rumors had portrayed him to be. He’d been nothing but nice to you, even a bit nervous. Still, he was probably just stressed about firing such a new employee. It must be awkward for him, embarrassing you like that. Another clear of his throat, perhaps a nervous tic. 

“Anyways, thank you for taking the time to talk with me tonight. As you know, this job isn’t for everyone,” Fuck, here it comes. “Yet, you have managed to exceed every expectation I had for you.” Huh? Brows pinched together, your head cocked to the side. Did he mix you up with someone else…? There's about 20 other employees who would deserve this praise more than you. Despite your confusion, your lips remained zipped - allowing him to continue.

“Y-your work ethic is impeccable,” Untrue, next. 

“...You stand out more than anyone else in this company,” Oh? 

“...I really admire your presence here at the office,” Okay, please carry on. 

“...You make it a joy to come to work.” His tone was shifting into a dreamy, wistful state.

“...T-the room lights up when you walk in…” You’d hardly spoken with your boss beyond the hiring process, so this was a complete shock to say the absolute least. He continued drabbling on, the praise kind of muddling together into a mudslide of unwarranted affection. Now it was your turn to clear your throat. 

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate that.” Studying the perplexed expression upon your face, his gaze shot down to the floor in humiliation, cheeks returning to that signature rosy hue. Yet again, a gravelly sound croaked from his chest - an obvious and desperate attempt to clear away his own nerves. His thumbs twiddled together, the exposed sleeves of the dress shirt beneath his suit jacket stained with the coffee from his earlier mishap. Once he’d thoroughly composed himself, his eyes finally met yours. 

“S-sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself,” Okay, so there’s more to this meeting than just the barrage of admiration, then. “I called you in here tonight because… I-I wanted to discuss the possibility of a raise in your annual salary,” Oh my God, you’re in the Twilight Zone. “I-I know that making sales as a beginner can be really tough. Normally, I wouldn’t do this - but I see such incredible potential in you…” The more he rattled on, the more derailed his train of thought became. Lip pinched between your teeth, you bit down with a force that nearly made you bleed. This is so surreal. 

“You're so very special and such a bright light in this office, it’s so truly wonderful to have you here. I… I’ll never forget the day I hired you. This business truly doesn’t deserve you. Nobody does.” Personal - everything he said was incredibly personal past that point. Every word was laced with more passion than before, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything besides your potential pay bump. Palpitations clenched against your chest walls, your eyes wider than a full moon over the ocean horizon; but he wasn’t done rambling. It was equal parts flattering and exhausting. Sitting with your ankles crossed, you soldiered through the flattery - waiting to hear some kind of number.   

“A-anyways, I think we can start with a 30% increase and go from there-” What. The. Fuck. Before he could even finish speaking, you were launching yourself from your seat, practically hurling your whole body across his desk. Heart pounding, head spinning, you practically straddled the man in your attempt to deliver an embrace of gratitude. A whiny moan of wanton need burst from the tall man’s throat as your body made contact with his, his whole face flushing, eyes downcast in shame at the needy display. Even if his mouth hadn’t given him away, the growing bulge pressing against your thigh certainly did. 

The blush upon his face was contagious, but you found yourself entirely paralyzed - his face just inches from yours, his warm coffee breath wafting over your senses. When you tried to adjust yourself, step away from him - his arms wrapped around you, pulling you back in. His head rested upon your shoulder, nuzzling you like an attention seeking house cat. Another borderline pathetic noise reverberated from his throat as his clothed erection brushed against your clothed pussy - your skirt hiking up to your tummy, revealing the black lace panties beneath your pencil skirt. 

Thank God you wore cute underwear today. Everything felt unreal. The pay raise, the compliments, the throbbing member constricted beneath the two of you - it was melting away all possible thought. You found yourself overcome with a feeling that fell somewhere between attraction, obligation, and gratitude. It was obvious he wanted you, and it felt like it was only right that you repay him for his generosity. Besides, the man was not unattractive, now that you were up close and personal. Honestly, it was incredible that you hadn’t noticed until now. Jawline sharp and gaze steely, his sharp brows and well-manicured facial hair made him undeniably good looking. A slurry of needy whines continued pouring from his throat, the pathetic display only making him more endearing to you. 

Lips colliding with his, the taste of stale drip coffee and lingering cigarettes hit your tastebuds, tongues immediately intertwining. His cologne was musky, facial hair scratching against your cheeks matching the friction of your clothed core rubbing along his throbbing erection. Polished nails dug into his biceps, the muscular flesh beneath his suit palpable to your fingertips. Every movement was hustled, frenzied - a desperate attempt to pull you as close as possible. With every push of your core against his, he elicited more of those deliciously frantic whines. 

“P-please… Please, can I-”

“Yes.” Your whisper cut him off. It didn’t matter what he wanted. You’d give it to him. You’d have given that man just about anything he asked for at that moment. A hum of consent falling from your glossed lips, he practically shoved you off his lap - nearly knocking you to the floor in his haste. Eyes wide, almost deliriously so, he swiped every single item off the top of his desk in one harsh push. Gasping, hand clasped over your mouth, you stared down at the now-broken computer monitor on the floor. 

“Oh my God, is that going t-” He was the one interrupting you this time, pads of his fingers digging into the flesh of your waist. Hoisting you up onto the surface of the desk, the kiss that followed was unsurprisingly clumsy and wanting. Teeth against teeth, saliva swapping, tongues wrestling back and forth - every single slip of his lips against yours was intoxicating. You’d never felt so wanted, so needed. As if reading your thoughts, his mouth detached from yours - panting breaths fanning over your face. 

“I…I’ve waited for this moment since the second you walked into this office three months ago. I can’t believe this is really happening.” His hands are at your blouse now, fumbling with each button like a toddler learning how to dress for the first time. He continues whispering quiet, almost indiscernible praises underneath his breath as he undresses you. 

“I-I’ve thought about th-this every day since I interviewed you.”

“...Y-you’re all I can think about.”

“...So soft… s-softer than I ever could’ve imagined.”

“...Beautiful. So, so beautiful.”

Standing undressed before you, your breath hitches at the gorgeous man towering above. His hair-spattered, toned chest was heaving with heavy breaths - blood pumping through his body evident from the veins bulging on his forearms and the pulsating erect cock that slapped against his lower abdomen. Tears welled in his eyes as his hands explored every inch of your body, rubbing and admiring every single inch, every single imperfection. Your heart fluttered, heat rising in every single inch of your body. Absolute obsession was palpable, the crazed look of admiration in his eyes feeling beyond exhilarating. 

Reaching forward, your hand wrapped around his veiny member, thumb swiping across his engorged, purple tip to spread his precum over the shaft. Mewls of pleasure and near-sobs of adoration spilled from the man - his intimidating aura sharply contrasted by his complete submission and worship of you. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to last in this state, and you weren’t ready for this to be over. Not yet. Not when I’m starting to feel like I adore you too. 

Aligning the tip of his length with your sopping core, your juices flowed over his shaft as you rubbed him up and down slowly between your folds - teasing him every time you grew closer to your entrance. Whiny, disjointed moans swam around the room, pleading for more and borderline begging to be inside you. 

“P-please, Please, I’d d-do anything to be inside you.” Whispers fluttered through your eardrums, his teeth grazing your lobe as the barrage of insistence penetrated your will. Wet fingers slipped across the pulsating member - throbbing tip catching on the concave of your cunt. He couldn’t resist, the moment he saw his opportunity - he buried himself to the hilt; fleshy tip digging right into your sweet spot. A sharp cry fell from your lips, manicured nail set digging into the skin of his shoulder blades. 

“O-Oh…It… You… You feel… I’ve never…” Unable to form a coherent thought, his breaths were uneven and rapid - hands at your waist moving downward, picking you up from the bottom of your thighs. Hoisting you into his arms, you were promptly dropped back down onto his cock - your center throbbing with the sensation of being so stuffed. He moved you like a doll, bouncing you up and down frantically on his member - uttering praise after praise after praise. You could do this forever. 

“I-I love you.” His movements stuttered, like he hadn’t meant to say that, but when you moaned in response - a cry falling from your lips; he grew even more deranged with need. 

“I love you, Oh.. fuck, I-I love you. I love you. I- I love you.” Each thrust upward was incredibly harsh - the tip of his cock massaging your sweet spot with every lift and drop. Your tits bounced, not in the typical way but in an almost ridiculous porn-star type of way. He handled you like a ragdoll, pulling you off his cock and bending you over the desk unceremoniously, the whispers of love continuing as a constant backtrack. Musky cologne and the distinct smell of sex filled the room, accompanying the lewd symphony of wanton attraction. 

Tip prodding back at your entrance from behind, he aligned himself with your core and plunged directly back into you, forcing a more subdued cry from you this time. He deserves it. God, he deserved all of this and more. Your body was starting to ache from the constant manhandling, bruises surely starting to form around your hips. The desk scooted forward a centimeter with each pounding insertion of his cock into your core. 

Pulling your hair into one handful, your head was forcefully yanked sideways - his delirious gaze meeting yours. Your eyes nearly rolled back in pleasure at the site alone, his needy whines and grunts deliciously combining with your own. His thrusts were growing sloppy, each tightening of your canal against his length driving both of you closer to the edge. Fire ignited inside your stomach, a near-scream bursting from your chest, juices flowing down your legs and coating his length. 

“O-Oh my God. Oh my God, I can’t I-”

“W-wait, pull out before y-” Pointless, your interruption came far too late. Throbbing core still pulsing around his length, his creamy seed spurted out against your walls, coating every inch of your insides with his love. The mere sound of your voice was too much; it sent him over the edge. God, it felt good to be somebody’s obsession. His member plopped out of you with a wet pop, cum seeping out down your thighs as he unplugs you. When he finally composed himself, his chest shook with uneven breaths and unshed tears - his voice laced with distress and dissipating lust.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I really hope you’re not upset with me,” He started, voice tinged with the same manic tone he’d used when affirming you. “This…I-I hope you wanted this as much as I did. If I messed things up with you, I don’t know what I’d do - and hopefully you didn’t get the wrong idea because if you felt like I’d forced you, I don’t know how I’d live with myself - you’re the most incredible girl I’ve ever met and I meant every single word I said and-” Interrupting his tangents seemed to be part of the job as his muse. That’s okay. Cupping his cheek in your palm, your thumb rubbed gentle circles across his skin. 

“Everything is okay. I wanted it too. You didn’t make me do anything.” Your voice was gentle, like you were talking down to a nervous little boy rather than the very grown man in front of you. A hesitant nod fell from his shoulder, and he calmed - grabbing your clothes off the floor and handing them to you. Dressing in an indescribably awkward silence, you slipped your heels back on and looked back up at him. 

“Thank you. For… everything. I’m really grateful for this job.” And for once, you were telling the truth. Sauntering out of the office, you left him with a simple peck on the cheek - cum seeping into your lace panties as you pressed the button of the elevator. Gratitude glowed from every corner of your being. Thank God for this stupid 9-5. 

Her incessant pining had started innocently enough. Usurping your best friend's seat in your English lecture, an impossibly wide smile plastered across her face the entire class period. Denying her was next to impossible, the naive girl visibly sulking anytime somebody beat her to the prized seat. You almost felt a pang of guilt when it came time to deny her pitiful attempts at romantic advances. The girl possessed an almost mystical ability to guilt trip. Even though she was practically a stranger, it was undeniably flattering to meet somebody who was so boldly smitten on you. If not also a bit unnerving. Despite the complete lack of any visible interest, her yearning never seemed to simmer down. 

But you had shown interest, hadn’t you? When you’d so benevolently allowed her to borrow your pencil, that was personal, wasn’t it? You’d felt the electricity, right? The cosmic, undeniable spark that came alight when her skin brushed yours? You’d be an absolute fool not to. Continuously rebuking her offers to sit together in the dining hall wasn't going to be enough to deter somebody with such passion. You’re a busy girl, so very popular! Miss Popular wouldn’t want to be seen with the campus creep, that’s understandable. She gets it. Not to worry, when you’re finally together - she'll make sure you have unlimited time for romantic lunch dates.

Care packages are heartwarming when they’re from your parents back home, less so when they’re from an insistent stranger - adorned with ominous notes professing her devotion to you. Either way, what college sophomore would pass up free top shelf booze and artisanal snacks? She’s harmless. Your sense of safety was fragile; the lock to your dorm started to mysteriously unlock itself anytime you left. Word was spreading, whispers through the hallway questioning your relationship status. The blabbering freak couldn’t be satisfied simply professing her love to you, she needed the whole world to hear it! Something about the whole ordeal was chipping away at your sanity, and confronting her behavior started to feel like an impossible task. 

Between weekend fraternity jaunts and Wednesday night bar crawls with your roommate, your busy schedule was the tacky craft glue that (barely) held you together. You’d spent many Saturday nights like this; the hem of your glittery getup hiking up your thighs as you tripped over your own feet. Heels clicking against pavement, a loose giggle fell from your throat - sloppy and unkempt, your breath reeking of alcohol. The kind fraternity brother who escorted you home was a doll to put up with you. One of the good ones, thank God. Evenings like this had become unfortunately common, your drinking increasing in intensity alongside the stalking. Less common, however, was the lingering stare of a familiar figure - her body leaning silently against the brick exterior of your dormitory. An unseen investigator, honing in on her suspect. 

“Woah there, come on, you’ve got it.” The young man encouraged as the two of you approached the steps to your residence hall, your feet twisted out of order. This was unlike you, the way your body was flung over the side of his larger form - you looked… slutty. Alcohol had that effect on you; there was a succubus living inside of you and she only emerged after 2.5 drinks. Another disheveled titter slipped from your glossed lips as you struggled up the cement steps, clinging to the toned man like he was your saving grace. The world spun on its axis, scenery spinning around you as your guardian angel guided you up to bed. Soft fleece brushed against your chin, the young man wishing you well, his voice the last thing you heard before slipping into darkness.

“You really gotta be more safe out there, there’s a lot of shitty people waiting to take advantage.” 

Pounding awoke you, the pressure inside your head making it feel like your eyeballs might pop out. A soft groan fell from your lips, the crusted mascara around your eyes flaking off as your lids fluttered open. Instinctually, you attempted to stretch - the world coming into focus around you. This ceiling was not the foam tile of your dormitory, and as your gaze trailed down to your body - you found your ankles bound, joints tied tightly with fraying rope. Your wrists endured the same treatment, bound body spread eagle on a bare mattress. Sequined minidressed scratching against your sensitive skin as the inevitable thrashing commenced. The fear wasn’t instant, surprisingly - confusion was. Once you had the realization that your familiar shared bedroom was nowhere to be seen, then the terror set in. Surrounding you were bare and white plaster walls, the worn wooden floorboards stained from rainwater leaks. A single door laid against the right wall, paint peeling and doorknob rusting. The only window in the room was clumsily boarded shut, a worn tarp nailed over for extra protection. 

Thoughts swarmed through your mind like a kicked wasp’s nest, bewilderment intertwining with dread. Deep breaths wracked your frame, eyes shut tightly as you willed away your fear enough to focus. Her. It could only be her. You’d seen nearly every room in the fraternities you frequented, and this room was not in a frat house, despite what the mess may imply. Why, though? Why you? What made you so special? What made you so magnetic to a freak like her? The halfway silent settling of an aging house was driving you just as mad as the painfully gripping restraints against your joints. Of course she lives in some halfway functional home on the outskirts of town. Of course she does. As little as you knew about her, you could make lots of hurtful assumptions nonetheless. And assumptions you were forming; plenty of them, in fact. With every passing second that you spent bound in this sad chamber of a room, your thoughts became more and more volatile. 

Light footsteps approaching the door remained unheard by you, uncharacteristically violent revenge scenarios spinning through your mind. Door hinges caked with rust, a loud creak filled the silence, snapping you out of your angry trance. Beneath the worn frame, there she was - an apologetic smile plastered across her typically sullen features. Before you could utter even a drop of your prepared vitriol, she was rushing to your side, hands tentatively tracing over the skin of your cheek. Breath catching in your throat, your whole body stilled. 

“I’m so sorry, so, so sorry.” She rambled quietly, tears welling up in her eyes as she spoke. Somehow the mousy, tentative behavior seemed more frightening to you in the moment than outright aggression. Her calloused skin continued to draw mindless patterns on the side of your face as the apologies and pleading blended together into a blur of blubbering mumbles. Lassoing in the courage to confront her, your breath shook through you, exhaling a sigh before clearing your throat. The expressive storm of desperation dissipated instantly. 

“Why are you doing this?” A flood of emotion crawled through your body as the words spilled from your chapped lips. The waterworks flowed into motion, tears blurring your vision as her limbs retreated from their position cradling your face. Her hands snapped upwards; chipped teeth gnawing at the nubs of her fingernails. After a few moments of palpable fear, her attention turned back to you, her sleeve sliding up to wipe away your tears. What don’t you understand? How could she possibly be more clear? Can’t you feel the love radiating out of her? Ripping her heart in two? The depressed demeanor she usually carried was fading away, her brows furrowing in frustration as the tears continued to flow. How could you be sad when you’re surrounded by such powerful adoration? Do you need to be shown? Do you need help understanding? None of this was going according to plan. You were meant to be stunned by the gripping realization that you’ve found your one-and-only soulmate. She could fix this. She could make you understand. 

Without warning, her sweater clad hands wandered down your neck, fingers gracing over every inch of available skin. Your breaths were uneven, shaky, wracking through your body as choked sobs increased in power. None of this fazed the determined lover. Don’t worry, don’t be scared. You’ll feel so much better once you realize your destiny. Digits toyed with the scooped neckline of your glittery minidress. She stilled, head tilting curiously as the sequins glimmered under her hands. Such a promiscuous little outfit, it just won’t do. Taken women have no business walking around in such attire. Her lips pursed, eyes wandering down your restrained form. She couldn’t simply take it off in this position. It wasn’t possible, unfortunately. 

“I’m sorry, baby… I promise I’ll get you lots of nice new outfits once you move in.” The words lulled out in a sing-song tone, cooing at you like a wounded animal as she produced a pocketknife from her jeans. Noticing the increased tempo of your whimpering cries, her head shook vehemently. 

“Oh, don’t worry! I would never, ever hurt you. Ever.” The reassurance flowed out in that same melodic tone. “I just need to take off this… thing you’re wearing. It’s in my way. I’ll be careful, promise.” Everything she said was so theatrical, as if a more dramatic performance would win over your affections. Scenes replayed through your mind as your fearful sobs carried on. Every interaction you’d had with had been a careful act, meticulously rehearsed. The blade made contact with the seam of your dress - sharp metal ripping away at the cheap nylon fabric. Your wails filled through the small room, her peaceful shushing only adding to the foreboding and dreadful scene unfolding. As the pocketknife shredded away the remnants of your favorite party dress, another apology spilled from your captor’s throat.

“You’re crying so much, so much crying. I’m sorry, I’ll make it all better.” Desperation coated her words, and it was unclear whether she was trying to convince you or herself. Scraps of fabric tossed aside, she climbed atop the bed, resting at the end of the mattress, right between your bound feet. Hands ran up and down your calves, a gesture that would’ve felt soothing in any other circumstance. Your body tensed under her touch, eyes squeezing shut in a desperate attempt to block everything out. This can’t be happening. Tears, whines and cries echoed through the small space, but you felt entirely detached from your body. Tingling skin lit up your senses, grounding you into reality against your will; the pads of her fingers pressing firmly into the skin of your inner thighs, gripping the flesh like you might somehow break free and run away. When you finally got the nerve to meet her gaze, her sickeningly desperate and nervous smile bored through your skull. 

“I love you so much. This is the greatest day of my life, being here with you.” She kneeled down, crawling towards your center. Her face hovered just inches away from your core, utter awe emanating off of the trembling girl. Fighting wasn’t an option; your position leaving you feeling defenseless to do anything but accept your fate. Rivers flowed down your face, dry skin still crusted with yesterday’s foundation. Your nipples hardened against the chilled draft wafting through the room, back arching in discomfort as yet another pathetic whimper spurted from your form. Hot breath fanned over your pussy, your sensitive nub twitching against the stimulation. Your captor’s breath audibly hitched in her throat, no doubt in reaction to your involuntary bodily reactions. 

“...Please.” a measly plea broke through your weakening sobs while her lips made contact with your pubic mound, gentle kisses fluttering around your sacred center. Please? Oh, sweet girl… Begging for more already. Your apology definitely did not incite the desired effect, an animalistic growl rattling from the disheveled girl. Baggy sweatshirt falling down her shoulders as she readjusted, her arms hooked underneath your thighs - holding onto your limbs as if you were anchoring her down to Earth. 

“No! Wait, plea- ohhh…” A choked moan broke from your throat, wet tongue swirling circles around your clit. With what the loser lacked in experience, she made up for with overwhelming excitement. Experience wasn’t necessary, just love. She has plenty of that. Enough for the both of you. Tears intermingling with strangled gasps, your wrists strained against their clumsy bonds. The rusting metal bed frame creaked loudly with each jerk of your limbs. Her loud moans vibrated against your cunt, eyes rolling back momentarily as the pleasure overrode all logic. Warmth tangled in your lower abdomen, the rising pleasure writhing around in your gut. Each wave of heat taunting you, blaming you for not realizing the danger you’ve been in. Don’t enjoy this, you can’t. 

“P-please, wait! Stop it!” Your anguished cries were quickly morphing into whimpered mewls, the fight draining from your body - instantaneously replaced with unwanted euphoria. Her writhing tongue prodded at your entrance, lapping up any fluids,  moaning like it’s the first drink she’s had in weeks. Daring to peek down at her, your heart fluttered at the unfolding scene. Jesus Christ, she’s an animal. Strands of greasy hair glued to her forehead by the beads of sweat rolling down her temples. Her eyes fluttering upwards, thick lashes fanning rapidly in sync with the scooping motion of the appendage within her mouth. It was utterly depraved; her hands desperately grasping at the fat of your quivering thighs. You couldn’t help the needy whine that slipped from your throat. Fuck, you’re trying. Jesus Christ, you’re trying. Don’t enjoy it. You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

Sniffling away the remnants of your long-forgotten tears, your lip caught between your teeth. Canines dug deep into the soft skin, a quiet groan regrettably slipping between the cracks. The pulsing, aching need that was building in your core rapidly ate away at the measly crumbs of willpower you still possessed. Her mouth intertwined with your cunt, her swollen lips tirelessly snogging your folds, tongue writhing deeply within you - each twist and turn causing your spine to exude a powerful jolt. Sensitive buds upon your chest longed to bloom, nerve endings alight without any stimulation. A plea caught in your throat, transforming into a soft, broken sound before your own eyes. 

“Don’t…” A quiet whimper. “Ohhhhh, fuck… God…” Resentful of the knowledge that you’d be intertwining your fingers in her hair right now if you could, you managed enough self-control not to encourage her further. 

Pulling back with an exhausted gasp for air, your insatiable captor left you whining like a cat in heat, hips jerking upwards at the loss of contact. Shame flooded your body; a hot, dreadful flush creeping up your cheeks in reaction to your total lack of restraint. What have you become? How could this happen? A depraved whore writhing upon the bare, dingy mattress of a strange girl who you know nothing about. You love it. Why don’t you just admit it to yourself? She’s right. You’re meant to be. The freak and the slut; a perfect match. Quiet panting painted the background of your downward spiral, your self-loathing dissociative episode swiftly interrupted by your forced partner as she leaned back on her heels. She observed you for a moment; a researcher examining their prized discovery. 

“I’m so glad you’re already feeling better, baby.” A sickeningly proud grin graced her face, hands coming to rest upon your bound ankles. Her fingers gently massaged your joints through the wiry rope. The embers of the pleasure she’d lit upon you moments before helped ignite a small flame of affection - the blush upon your cheeks deepening ever-so-slightly at her gentle gesture. Stop. Stop it. You’re not stupid enough to sympathize with a sicko. Leaning over your legs, she swept a midsized cardboard box out from under the bed, a mischievous giggle accompanying her movements. Flipping the flaps of the container open, she practically bounced with exhilaration.

“You taste amazing, I could go down on you for hours…” She trails off, tone dreamy while her concealed hands clattered through the cardboard sheathed items. “But I need to be able to talk to you. It’s the most important part. So you know how much I love you, how hard I’ve worked for us to be together. You’ll be so grateful after this, I think.” Love takes dedication, love is worth fighting for. Love needs to be forceful sometimes, doesn’t it? Just so she can make you understand, that’s all. A small gasp interrupts her train of thought, digits folding around the treasure she’d so desperately sought. 

Your dazed, trance-like state shoves itself to the side - stare landing firmly on the 8 inch silicone dildo gripped firmly between your captor’s grasped fists. At least it’s familiar. Nothing you can’t handle, look at the bright side. Stained hoodie sleeves were theatrically shoved upwards, hair flipped behind her shoulder with palpable excitement. A jittery, gleeful sound somewhere between a squeal and a sigh vibrated against your eardrums, your supposed lover assuming that similar animalistic stance, lurching towards you. Her small hands wrapped around the curve of your hips, running along the skin with a distinct hunger. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if the girl was harboring a secret desire to cannibalize you entirely. 

“I’ll be gentle,” A breathy whisper wafted over your stomach. “It’s important that you feel good. So you can feel my complete devotion to you.” A kiss landed softly on your hip, then your tummy - your whole abdomen peppered in a smattering of her adoration. The whole thing was very hard to ignore; it unleashed something deep inside you. Some small, miniscule inkling of something soft and warm. Compassion, or affection, maybe. Something that fueled that warmth in your belly, that flush in your cheeks. Swimming in cognitive dissonance, the mushroom tip of cold silicone slid up your now-thoroughly lubricated folds. 

“So wet… Is that your love for me?” Her frantic whispers floated through your ears, thick logs of perfect firewood stoking the flames within you. 

“Perfect, completely, and utterly perfect.”

“Every inch of you, just incredible. Not a single flaw.”

“So disheveled and messy… just for me. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

There was too much conflict in your mind to stop the lewd groan that flew out of you when the first few inches of her toy slid into your tight canal. Crazed eyes gawked at your unkempt form, hair flying in every direction, splayed out on the mattress like a beached siren. Your inadvertent expressions of pleasure motivated her deranged display of obsession. Thrusting the entirety of her faux member into your core, your back leapt off the bed - choked scream of relinquished power forcing itself from your throat. 

“Look at you!” She exclaimed, bouncing on her heels as the dildo pistoned in and out of your pulsating core with surprising casualty. “Accepting my love so well… Can’t you tell we were meant to be?” Her sentence faded to a close, mouth closing in on your hip. Maybe you were. Maybe that wasn’t so terrible. If she could make you feel like this forever, maybe it wasn’t all bad. Sensations overpowered every inch of your body, concentrated especially towards the invading toy that pulled in and out of you with incredible force. You feared your whole body might collapse like a deflated balloon. Suction faded in and out of your peripheral, your tummy a canvas inviting a painting of hickeys. The stinging sensation was hardly enough to distract you from the overpowering lust. 

A designer dress that cost more than your monthly rent clung to your figure as you shuffled anxiously in the passenger seat of your older boyfriend’s souped-up sports car. Every item on your body, head to toe, had been carefully chosen and paid for by him - a businessman whose job was too complex for you to understand. Or so, that’s what he always told you. Your simple, feminine mind lacked the complexity to comprehend such important matters. It was a wonder that he’d even trusted you to accompany him to such an event, the chatter amongst such high level businessmen was sure to be above your comprehension level. Smooth jazz hummed quietly through the car’s speakers, though the relaxing swoon of brass instruments felt uncharacteristically grating when compared to the steadily increasing feeling of borderline panic that was building in your tummy. 

As your gaze turned out of the window, the passing city street lights cast a soft yellow glow against the sleek leather interior of his vehicle. Despite your insistence on not bothering him with such trivial problems, the apprehension radiated off your perfectly manicured body - eventually drawing the attention of the silver haired man in the driver’s seat. One of his hands dropped from the steering wheel, the imported Italian watch upon his wrist glimmering in the dim light. Palm grasping the exposed flesh of your lower thigh, his aged skin provided a stark contrast against the supple complexion of your younger body. Deep wrinkles formed beside his eyes as he turned to flash you that familiar charming grin, the whirlpool of fear overtaking your brain instantly dissipating. It was the same deviously magnetic grin that had made you melt when you’d met him only three short months earlier. Oh, how lucky you are to have been taken under his wing.

“A pretty little thing like you? You’ve got nothing to worry about, darling. They’ll love you.” His words were gravelly and deep, the characteristically sultry tone of his voice making your thighs clench together subconsciously. You felt compelled to believe his reassurance. After all, in the days leading up to this grand debut as his new girlfriend - he’d been bragging practically non-stop. Boasting on and on about how envious his peers would inevitably feel when he sauntered into the casual soiree with a shiny, new toy hanging off his arm. Even if you found yourself unable to keep up intellectually, at least you could seek solace in the fact that you were such a hot commodity. A deep inhale finished off the last exposed seams of your frayed nerves.

Journeying to the center of the city was a rare occurrence for you - your dingy apartment on the outskirts of town was far from being a reasonable commute. That was all subject to change soon, though. Your boyfriend had promised that with good behavior, he might even consider making room for you in his luxury condominium. Brakes whirred quietly as his vehicle turned into the valet drop-off, the street basked in a shield of darkness provided by the towering high-rise apartment building above. A sharp spire decorated the roof, reaching so high into the air that it seemingly disappeared right into the atmosphere.

Shifting the parking brake into place, your silver-haired companion silently gestured for you to stay put as his seatbelt clicked free. A loud gasp penetrated through the metal exterior of the vehicle, bursting out of the bright-eyed valet attendant as she counted the exorbitant tip that your boyfriend had so flippantly thrust in her direction. Ignoring the blubbering gratitude of the worker, he strolled around the side of the car to let you out. Painting over his flat expression with that signature smile, the perfectly tailored sleeves of his bespoke suit hiked up his wrist as his arm outstretched to balance your exit.

A chill from the crisp evening air nipped at your exposed legs, the quiet click-clacking of heels against pavement filling your ears as the two of you approached the entrance. The uniformed doorman greeted you politely, and you tossed an apologetic glance his way as your boyfriend ushered you inside without a single word. Though it went against everything you’d ever learned about manners, you’d come to accept that exchanging pleasantries with service workers was nothing more than a waste of time for a man with such affluence.

Pretentiously modern architecture surrounded you, tall vaulted ceilings above and polished white marble below. The foyer was completely colorless and devoid of any character, yet it exuded an undeniable sense of wealth. Something about the environment felt distinctively soulless, your earlier nervousness clawing back into the forefront of your mind. A quiet ding interrupted your stream of thought, the sleek metal elevator doors sliding open. Stepping inside, you tighten your clutch on your boyfriend’s arm - teeth digging into your bottom lip. The floor numbers displayed above the doors slowly rising in unison with your anxiety. 

“You’re absolutely sure I’ll make a good first impression?” your meek plea for reassurance broke the silence, a warm chuckle spilling from his chest while he leaned down - the scratchy stubble of his 5 o’clock shadow pressing gently into your forehead.

“Of course I’m certain, don’t be ridiculous.” The words vibrated against your skin, steely gaze heating you from the inside out as he pulled back to examine your dolled-up features.  

“I trust you know how to conduct yourself properly by this point. You’ve been trained rather well since I first got my hands on you, wouldn’t you agree?”  A nod of agreement fell from your shoulders, the flushing of your cheeks thankfully concealed by the excess of makeup covering your skin. Exhaling a trembling breath of relief, the fear dissipated once again. It’s true, you’d inadvertently disappointed him enough times by now to mostly understand the unspoken code of conduct. He leaned down, warm breath fanning over the crook of your neck. The musky scent of his expensive aftershave filled your senses, sensitive skin tingling at the faint touch of his lips on your earlobe. 

“Be on your best behavior, doll.” An obnoxiously pretentious ding punctuated the end of his sentence, the elevator whirring to a stop. Metal doors swung open - a handful of aging business moguls conversed over quiet lounge music in a living room that somewhat resembled a luxury car showroom. Fingers intertwining, your body was gently tugged forward - a lamb guided into a den of wolves.