In the Dark

I am in the dark with this one. Literally. The look in his twisted doe eyes when I opened the door to my room should have warned me, as well as the silver satchel he carried, and maybe even the red stains on his starched white cuffs...1

He licked his full lips and kicked the door back. The slam made me jump and lacy breasts bounce. He smiled and brushed them as nipples perked up and became interested in this man against my better judgement.2

I know how to push fear down into my stomach, or even further for greater effect, and I play my role very well. Or so I thought. "What's in the bag, tiger?", I crooned. His response: this blindfold he produced from a pinstriped pocket. His chest weirdly smelled of sesame oil when he put it on me. "Don't you move", he whispered. "I will move you."3

Swaying breeze and soft tapping of heel toe heel toe expensive shoes tell me where he is; near the old dresser I use as a table. A high yelp escapes my lungs as a swooping crash of most of my belongings hit the hard floor and roll all the way to the door. Then a surprise smack on bare ass, which would not be the last, and his hot breath on my neck saying, "Don't make a sound".4

Once he's there again, hands on bottom cheeks, he squezzes hard enough to leave prints. Then he rubs his hard head slowly on me; my arms at my sides, I start to float into5

submission. For a change.6

Then like that he is gone, a fast pace back to the scene of the crime and all is silent but the clink of.....things on polished wood. Sighs go down to fill my stomach some more until I hear the flick of a light, and the hush of a wick being lit.7

I wait, my heart racing in still skin. Two hollow sounds followed by hardness that I cannot understand, until a cold cold sharpness is now on my chest. He took off those shoes so I wouldn't know when he was coming for me next. I realize a blade is at my heart, and a tear rolls out the corner of my eye. I accept my sorry life might end here, later in the young hours of the new day. Then there is hope as true as the sunrise as he catches it wth a kiss. He slices at lace, releasing hot blackness now like the tear. It tickles as it drips, I think. 8

I picture my pulse lying down in my veins and he drops the knife in a clamor at my feet. My breasts, uncovered, now yearn to be touched by the wetness of his tongue. My chest heaves and my heart skips a beat when I feel the singe of hot wax instead. His hands blend both mediums together all over my body; red and white, I imagine, which paint a surreal countryside 9

on me. To the cold-comfort warmth, I yield some more. 10

Again he is gone. I dare not move, but am faltering there on two shaky limbs. As if he senses me, my two hands he brings back and ties tight with something soft. Now the last die is cast. I dont think I can stand anymore, when he picks me up around my waist, and gently lowers me onto the one rickety chair by the bed. He slowly brings me toward him. Leaving teeth marks in the flesh on my hips, I'm sure, he lifts me up. Breaths catch as he rips off the scarce sheerness between my thighs. 11

"Now I will make you come", he orders. "And remember, not a peep", he says twisting my nipple to make me cringe. "Yeah, that's right", he says with his lips touching mine, and spreads my legs12

open wide. The real me leaves its earthly vessel. I hover over and see it naked, spread regal on the chair, and the back of the fully clothed figure kneeling on the floor. My head hangs back and tits stand to attention in long forgotten ectasy.13

I am in a field, majestic and vast. I close my mind and I am there. The brothel I live in has fallen away to fragrant nature after a rain. I hear wet sounds which incorporate themselves into my drizzled orgasmic dreamscape. His words also find and pierce me there. Fingertips handling nipples, mouth lodged deep in my meadow, I hear amid slurps and groans, "My favorite thing....in the world to do....is eat your sweet pussy, my pet..."14

Eyes open to sunlight blaring past red disheveled curtains, and I am alone. Although I have awoken in this same run down room for many years, I do not know where I am. A fleeting thought sees me in an echo filled castle where I rule as queen. Squiniting I see crumpled bills on the otherwise barren dresser next to black fabric. Reality seeps in through the cracked walls like the life I shed down my chest the night before. I touch my tender self and become wet while the electric feelings flood back to my senses. Thoughts of the strange man's controlling sacred thrusts and throes will stay with me15

throughout the nights16

when I work with my blindfold on. 17