A Fantasy

I don't know if I've awoken from sleep or if I've just blocked out the memories. All I know is this: I am terrified, I am restrained, and he stands over me. He doesn't have a weapon, but he doesn't need one. Hands tied together, he hauls me out of my bed and drags be from the bedroom. My first coherent thought, "Am I going to die?"
He doesn't take me to the safe in my living room, and we've already left the bedroom. He takes me to the dining room, but the only thing valuable in there is the porcelain dishware in the china cabinet.
Suddenly he pulls me up short. I've been too shocked to cry or scream, and now is no different. He holds my shoulders and stares me in the eye. He's menacing, with dark eyes and a sadistically fierce grip on my shoulders. I can feel his fingers bruising my tender skin, but I try to stay quiet.
I can tell he's waiting for me to say something, so I try to remain quiet. What would I say?
He raises an eyebrow like he's been issued a challenge. He squeezes harder--the thin fabric of my nightshirt offering little protection.
It feels like he's bearing into the bone, and I close my eyes. He shakes me suddenly until I open them again. Satisfied, but nowhere near done, he starts squeezing again. Harder and harder until I think he's about to dislocate my shoulders. He starts digging his fingers in tightly, nails piercing through the fabric and into my skin. I close my eyes in pain, but he shakes me again--this time it hurts like needles digging around my shoulders. I open them, tears springing to my eyes, and he digs even harder. I can feel that he's drawn blood in at least three places, and I cry out in pain.
"Stop, please!" I cry.
He holds on for a moment longer, digging even harder, before releasing me entirely. He runs a finger down the length of my jaw. He leans in close and inhales my scent.
"So that's what your scream sounds like," he says, a dark smile on his lips. His voice is low and even, assured and confident. Like he'd done this before.
Now that I had spoken, it seemed easier. "What do you want with me?" I asked.
His eyes flashed dangerously at my words, like I'd broken a rule by speaking. Then he smiled. "With you? I want nothing WITH you. I want YOU." He ran his finger down my neck, resting on my quick pulse. "I want your unadulterated fear." My pulse quickened as he pressed on my neck. Then his finger trailed down to my shoulder, pulled down the edge of my nightshirt and gently ran over the bruise. "I want your pain... pure pain." He pressed down on my bruise, sighing sensually when I winced and contracted away from him. He held me there, gripping my shoulder again, not as tightly as before, but enough to keep me from pulling away. He held tighter, slowly increasing pressure, until I was whimpering. I tried so hard to stay quiet, but I knew that he would keep going until he got what he wanted.
"These are things I can't get WITH you... I TAKE them from you." Then, in a sudden burst of energy, he gripped my shoulder tight again and twisted around, pulling me past him and slamming me against the table. The edge of the wood banged against my hips, and he bent me over the table with a heavy hand on my neck. Then, pressing my head hard against the table, he yanked my tied hands upward. Producing a cord from somewhere I couldn't see, he tied my wrists to the leg on the opposite side of the table.
My shoulders burned at this angle, and my toes were hardly touching the ground. My wrists and hips bore the pain of my weight on the edges of the table, and I pressed upward with my toes to try and release the pressure. It worked, but my calf muscles were shaking at the odd angle, and I knew they would be burning soon with exertion.
He still held my head flat against the table, and he leaned in close. His breath made my eardrum vibrate uncomfortably.
"This is going to get HARD,"--I could hear the malicious smile in his voice--"Let's see how long you last."
Amorialla Amorialla
18-21, F
2 Responses Nov 27, 2012

Little disturbing. Are you aware you have your settings on High FU? whiteboard and mail.

There is a guy you should meet. After reading your stuff I feel like you could benefit from writing him.

He lives in asia and seems willing to offer advice, but not so willing to meet people, though I do know two women who persisted and....

but write me or friend me or

Wow lady, you can write! Very powerful stuff. Dark fantasies make for a special audience, but it's there, and it's huge.

I found it interesting that at first I thought it was a rape fantasy, then it moved from the bedroom to create an oddly greater vulnerability. You have a sensual touch for such a frightening scenario. It is a Story of O from inception. I can't help but wonder about the protagonist's self discovery. Keep writing!
JH Gordon