Vox Populi

Okay, I said it before and I’ll say it again- this man ADORES the size difference between him and his partners.

If you’re a woman, he enjoys how your stature embodies the stereotype of the 1950s. If you’re a man, well, he’s clearly the more masculine one by default. Either way, it’s a huge ego boost.

Loves to spin and twirl you around. To you it’s cute but to him it’s an act and display of power by how easily he can lift you.

Usually tends to put things on higher shelves just so he could see you struggle grab it before you come over to him and beg him to help you

His lap is your permanent resting spot. He enjoys having you in one place where he can wrap his arms around you and engulf you completely.

He’s the annoying type to lean down when he’s talking to a short person. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like it, he’ll stop when he no longer finds it funny.

This man enjoys to carry you, either bridal style of just holding you close to his chest. It’s probably one of the few affectionate gestures without an ulterior motive

Another annoying thing he does is lean his arm on your head and use you as a personal resting space.

He constantly makes comments about you being fragile and unable to survive without him. Considering how he sees himself as a shark and you as a small fish he happens to like, I’d say he’s far more literal than you’d think

Nicknames are very much condescending. Everything with him is- it’s always a comment about your weight and your height, but he hides it behind affection. In truth, he just wants to see how far he can push.

Another thing he likes about the size difference is the way his hand can engulf yours without any sort of effort

If you think your size will protect you from being rough during sex, you’re dead wrong. The fact that you can’t stop him only encourages the idea of him slamming you around like a ragdoll.

Very aroused by the fact that his cock is too big for you. If you say that it won’t fit, he’ll make sure it does. What’s a little pain and blood?

He steps on you when you’re down during sex. It’s degrading enough that he considers it funny. Plus it’s not like you can lift his leg up away.

Vincent has a very specific type when it comes to his women- he likes them to be soft, malleable, dependent, pretty to look at, sweet, easily to fool-

Overall he’s a traditional man in the 1950s and he believes that women are made to stay in the kitchen, make babies and cater to their husbands

But I also imagine he has a huge corruption kink in the way where he’d love to turn a career driven woman to his loving and doting housewife

Picture working alongside him, for starters- either as a co-host or just somehow under him- it doesn’t matter since the outcome is still the same.

He convinces you that you’re made for each other. Makes you crave him, need him, depend on him. All of a sudden you quit your job and move in with him as long as he provides for you.

As a husband he’d be the prime example of the perfect man in that era- he’d compliment your cooking, never lay his hand on you, support your interests within reason, and most of all, spoil you financially. All he asks in return is that you stay put and manage the housework. Isn’t he so merciful?

He wants you to stay in the dark when it comes to his murders or cult. After all, it would be too much for a fragile little thing like you to handle. Plus, what would you think of him if you knew? You’d probably leave. And he can’t have that

Isolates you from your family. Doesn’t matter if you like them or not, they’re not going to be in your life for much longer. If you insist upon it, he’ll take care of them in a more permanent way, which just hurts you more in the end. It’s better to give in

Isn’t late for dinner once. Doesn’t matter if he just killed a man or indoctrinated someone into his cult, this man will be sat down at 7pm asking for seconds

Considering the era, I’d say the sex life was mostly for the sole purpose of pleasing a man. As for how often, I’d imagine he wanted to get a quickie in the morning and then properly devour you under the covers

He talks about his interests a lot. He forces you to like what he likes, because that’s what he considers bonding. You like reading? Well, a book about marine life never hurt anyone. You enjoy to watch TV? There’s a reason your TV only plays channel 6. He finds something like this for everything in an attempt to possess you.

This man loves to dance. He’s the type to play a slow song on the radio and spin you around like weigh nothing at all, pulling you in and out before he cups your cheek with his free hand, kissing you as he dips you down.

He gets extremely aroused when he sees you in that sexy apron he bought for you, or when you’re cooking his favorite food. Let’s just say the turkey wasn’t the only thing that was stuffed on that Thanksgiving dinner

He adores the size difference between you. Loves to see the fact that sometimes, his cock barely fits inside you. Also finds it attractive how he can tower over and grab you whenever he wants to

He expects praise from his wife, especially any time he gets promoted. He’d get off to being called the handsomest and smartest man. He knows he is, but hearing it from you helps him

Your wedding wasn’t probably a public thing. To him, the blessing from the priest and money was enough

Believe it or not, he does brag about you when he gets the chance, especially in front of his coworkers, even if they never met or saw you. He loves making his future victims jealous

He did actually want to start a family with you, purely for a spare in case something happens to him. Despite wanting a son first, he wouldn’t mind having a daughter as well, especially since he’d know you’d raise her perfectly considering how you act. Plus he’d love to have someone else to spoil

If you disappoint him in any way, he’ll ignore you. After all, you need to learn the consequences of your actions

For Vox, games have always been about one thing and one thing only: entertainment.

Whatever he enjoyed to do, he did, no questions asked, no strings attached.

Initially, that’s what it was like with you. You provided a sense of purpose with your obsession that matched his own and a hunger that rivaled one of the more hornier demons he experienced in the darkest pits of hell.

Still, things tend to get stale after a while. And no matter how hard he tried to keep this little back and forth going, he very quickly realized his inability to do so.

Because despite you matching his level of obsession and need, he was reaching new levels of depravity day by day. One that even someone like you couldn’t keep up with.

The cameras in your life multiplied in scale, Vox now being able to watch you from every single part of Pentagram City. He found himself patiently waiting for your passionate letters and growing frustrated when you forgot to write for a day or two.

And most of all, he got rather acquainted with your humble abode.

He spent far more time in your apartment than he’d like to admit, collecting some things that you might want to hold onto- those silly little magazines you enjoyed reading, your electronics, that stupid little employee of the month picture that you proudly kept on the shelf despite there only being two of you at that shitty job you worked at- everything with sentimental value, really.

Because in all honesty, this game of you two toying around grew stale. Boring.

And he couldn’t settle for boring. He wouldn’t settle for boring.

So that brings you both to the present. You, unconscious and strapped to a chair, him, looking over you both literally and figuratively, waiting for you to wake up so the actual fun could begin. The one where he’d break you and rebuild you in this perfect image.

And knowing how you were, you’d probably like it.

He had it all planned- first, he was going to take you in the most primal way, just like you detailed in those letters you left him, and then, he’d make sure you never move away from his bedroom.

You two have been apart for so long, it’s only natural that he wants you two to stay as close to each other as possible.

Even if that way to make you stay close was purchasing a shock collar and clicking it in place where you were unconscious. But you should be honored! Not only is it the latest Voxtek model that delivers violent electric shocks at will, but it’s also equipped with a tracking chip.

“Only the best for you, pet…” he murmurs, his clawed hand cupping your cheek before pulling away and taking a couple steps back when he noticed you stirring awake.

“Look who finally woke up!” He exclaimed with that signature smirk, leaning closer to you as your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room.

“Vox?” you asked, dazed, Vox’s eyes narrowing.

“Who the fuck else?” He sneered, his mood shifting on a dime. He had no time for you to be coy. To act like you weren’t aware of just what you’ve gotten yourself into. You knew damn well what you’ve signed up for ever since you spoke to him for the first time. Ever since you sung so many words of adoration and encouragement that it made his cock throb with a want that bordered on necessity.

“Oh. What are you gonna do to me?” You questioned, Vox recognizing that little tone of voice- you liked being bound, trapped, underneath his mercy. Of course you did. That’s what you were made for, after all.

“Oh, so many things. Terrible, terrible things.” Vox purred, his hand resting on your cheek before it trailed over to the shock collar around your neck.

“See this little baby right there? That’s going to determine our relationship going forward.” Vox admitted, pulling away and starting to pace around the dimly lit space that was only illuminated thanks to his screen. “It can either be good-“ he trailed off before snapping his fingers, a sharp shock delivered into your neck as you let out a yelp. That was his intention. To warn you. That, in case you stepped out of line, he could so much worse. “-or you can be bad. The choice is yours, really. I wouldn’t mind either way. I bet you’re sexy when you cry your eyes out, begging for mercy…” Vox drawled, you raising your eyebrows slightly.

“A shock collar?” You asked incredulously, still trying to get under his skin. He knew you got off to this. He snooped through the filth you read, the garbage upon garbage of dark content that you saw through a romantic lens. After all, your passwords for your Voxflix and VO3 was your date of birth but with a 69 at the end.

But Vox didn’t mind this little kink of yours. In fact, it was going to make breaking you in much more easier.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, doll.” He stated condescendingly, with mocking sympathy. “Or did you think I’d treat you as an equal?”

Without missing a beat he pressed the button, delivering a painful shock through your neck. “You’re not here to play games, you little bitch. You’re here to submit. To see what kind of monster you captured the interest of.” Vox stated, collecting himself before the wires that tied you against the chair loosened, starting to tug on your clothes with urgency. “Strip.”

You didn’t know why you obeyed that request. Maybe it was because of the electric shock that he delivered a minute earlier, or maybe because you knew, deep down, that you wanted this. You loved this man. You were obsessed with him, after all. You wrote him letters, you practically worshipped the ground he walked on, and you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And now, it felt strange. To have someone you thought would never acknowledge you actually get to that point.

“There we go. Though you could’ve done it with more enthusiasm. You’re going to fuck a goddamn god.” Vox whispered, not wasting a single second before he grabbed you by the hips, slamming you against the ground, his body moving on top of yours. You couldn’t even process this sudden display of dominance before he crashed his screen against your face, his thick tongue invading your mouth in a brutal, punishing way. You groaned into the kiss, your instincts overtaking that part of your body that was still reeling.

“Tell me you love me.” He demanded.

“I love you…” you replied, attempting to catch your breath before Vox’s claws trailed further down your body, his voice growing more and more husky. “And?”

“I’m yours.”

“And?” He continued, trailing over to your pussy as his fingers lightly danced over your clit, his heterochromatic eyes piercing as he awaited your response.

“I need you inside me.” You moaned out, Vox grinning wolfishly before his sharp , clawed finger forced its way through your entrance, the pain and pleasure blurring together as he viciously pumped his fingers in and out of your aching cunt, groaning under his breath. “Fuuuck, you’re so goddamn tight…” Vox breathed out, pumping his fingers in and out of you, your pussy clenching around his invading digits, barely registering the blood that started to drip from your inner thighs. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if it was from your lack of sexual experience or the fact that his claws could quite literally cut through metal.

Vox eyed you as you let out a pained whimper, shushing you. “None of that. Just let it happen…” He whispered, your whines of protest dying on your lips as you slowly felt yourself slip out of consciousness, the intensity of it all making you lose control over your own body as the darkness consumed you whole.

Things tend to be… different, when they’re only imagined. When you think your desires and wants are so out of reach that you let your mind wander, let yourself indulge in the twisted appeal it holds.

That was your obsession.

Vox was a god-like figure to a sinner like you. An overlord of insane power and status. And when he started playing your game, both of you trying to get the attention of the other, but still never getting to that definitive step, it felt good to you. Comfortable, even.

But now, he decided to flip everything you thought you had. By taking you away. And by extension your fantasies and expectations.

Those were all the things your mind wandered to before your blackout, though it wasn’t long before you’ve awoken again.

This time, though, you weren’t on the floor. You were in bed. That alone made you let out a sigh of relief before you realized one important thing.

The bed wasn’t yours. And you weren’t in it alone.

Your vision sharpened in the dark, wondering how much time had passed. You were still naked, except maybe for that shock collar, and the bruises that adorned your-

You froze as your train of thought got momentarily derailed by the new markings on your body; hickeys, bruises, bites, claw marks… that sick fuck actually carved the Voxtek logo on your chest. The sight of it made you wonder just how much your lower body was holding up, though that curiosity quickly left you upon seeing the mix of blood and what you assumed to be Vox’s seed still leaking out of it.

You closed your eyes, hoping this was all some sort of sick joke. That you were going to wake up in your dingy apartment with your shitty job.

But nothing.

Your attention turned over to the left, noticing how Vox was, even in his sleep, holding onto you tightly.

Like you were his favorite toy.

And maybe, deep down, you were. You just couldn’t help yourself, help the need to be more than just the demon in the crowd. And now, here you are, paying the price.

But despite all of this, despite all the pain you physically feel and the fear that mentally grips you, you find yourself staying right where you are, next to him.

Because deep down, you knew that you sealed your fate the minute you left him that first letter. Sealed the fate as his eternal plaything.

You’re confused. Scared. Petrified. But despite that, you find yourself leaning into Vox’s touch, resting against his side.

The whole thing started off relatively normal, boringly, even.

Initially, he only saw you like the rest of them- an adoring, simpering sinner who would do anything for a scrap of recognition or attention. You weren’t remarkable in any way, especially to a man like him- after all, he had it all.

And yet, here he was, watching you through his cameras from at least 10 different angles as you walked to your dingy apartment from your dead end job. For a man who couldn’t care less about you months ago, you sure as hell seemed to have gotten his attention now.

He couldn’t help himself- your praise, worship, and obsession was massive. So massive in fact that it rivaled an entire rally. So massive that he could only need to hear your adoring words to feel complete.

And he hated that.

He hated knowing that he took an interest to someone who he shouldn’t even give a second glance to.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He murmured, his clawed finger tracing a heart shaped line against one of the cameras, specifically the one in your living room. “How badly I just want to swoop in through one of these babies and show you a good time.”

At first he was surprised by how easily he planted them without you noticing. He wasn’t even being subtle since he knew, deep down, that you were aware of his stalker-ish tendencies. After all, you were the same in that regard.

He could still remember when he read the letter you left in his office. Even after all this time, he had no idea how you managed to get through his top notch security system, but he never bothered to look into it.

Your writings were nothing but needy and depraved, sometimes even rivaling his own fantasies.

‘I sometimes touch myself when you appear on channel 666 news’

‘I wanna take that bowtie of yours and rip it off so I can suckle on your neck’

‘I want you to lock me up and throw away the key’

And every single letter was you signing off as “Vox’s number one fan”. His one and only.

In the beginning, he scoffed at the notion, finding it embarrassing- like a child-with-a-crush-on-a-movie-star kind of embarrassing. But now, with all of his eyes and ears all over you, he couldn’t agree more. After all, not just anyone could make him feel like this.

“Fuck…” he cursed out, watching you from the camera as you decided to change into more comfortable clothing after getting off work, but for him, the sight just made him harden. He immediately used his hands to freeze the frame of you naked on one of his cameras, his other hand almost instinctively trailing over to his crotch, swiftly unzipping himself. “You’re such a goddamn whore, teasing me like this.” Vox complained, his giant hand wrapping around his member as he desperately tried to imagine that it was you who was touching him. “I bet you’d love seeing me like this, huh? All hot and bothered, ready to fill you up.” He continued crudely, his movements and squeezing getting faster and rougher. But the breaking point came shortly after when he noticed how you looked up at the hidden camera on his second screen, giving him a little wink.

He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. His release crashed over him like a tidal wave millions of erotic thoughts swarming in his head- most of which involved you on your knees, your lips wrapped around his veiny cock, gagging on him due to his sheer size. He threw his head back, letting out a loud groan that he was certain half of his employees would be able to hear. But he was past the point of caring. All that mattered was this.

God, he needed you here so badly. But he knew he couldn’t act on those feelings. Not yet, anyway.

He liked this game you two were playing, this little chase of cat and mouse where the mouse wanted to carve its way into the cat’s very soul in an an attempt to cement itself as its newest obsession.

And cement yourself you did. You had Vox completely and utterly, which made him unsure of how to proceed.

He wanted nothing more than to claim you properly, to chain you up in his tower so you could only be there for him and him only.

But where’s the fun in that? He’s still entertained with what you two have going on right now, with the letters in his secret drawer and cameras all over your living quarters.