Posted in Story: Fiction, English | Categories: BDSM, First Time, Taboo, Mature, Mind Control, Reluctance | Tags: dominance, Sexual Sadism
The stale scent of used clothes and of puffed cigars did nothing to deter the arousal of that man and woman; their sweating body glistening, their sigh of pleasure echoes and the silence of the eve gawks as it reached its crescent and rippling orgasm blinded both beyond the darkness of the moonless night.
Only the man was far from sated. Inexplicable hunger eats him from deep within and a familiar itch started rising from his gut, traveling its way to his two gloved hands. And with blank stares, in a trance, his grip tightened; watching life getting drained from his prey, lights dimming from the windows of the soul within.
“There, there, there!”
Resistance met his efforts and he found it comforting and exhilarating even - seeing her squirm, trying to free herself, scratching his arm, grasping for her dear life - breathtakingly beautiful!
“Let go... Let go... Let go.”
His caressing voice mimics that of a father convincing his daughter that a root canal is a necessary evil.
And when all is calm and serene, a smile of satisfaction adorns his face. Elation filled his hollow core. Thinking, at last he found his needle in the haystack.
So good, he felt so good. For the first time, he feels complete. This is what he's been looking for all his life. The sexual gratification of inflicting terror and the power height from the fear in her eyes gives him a sensation that is beyond explaining.
His sole purpose of existence is all for these – receive gratification, cause pain, inflicting terror, relishing the pain as much as the sex.
As orange flecks paint the endless canvass above, the shovel digs a hole in the ground; hiding his trophy below the cold earth's embrace, planting daisies to adorn its resting place. Once done, he knew, he'll visit again to award her a playmate, soon.
Another day has broken and roosters are singing. With the monster within him lay asleep with the crickets, the man whistles a tune he loves but forgot that he does, until now.
Macabre visits his conscious thoughts and sings a chorus that only he could hear as loudly as a scream.
I like to torture and I do it quite well
kidnapped in my house
you'll think you're in hell
Your new home's a pit
in my basement floor
act up and I'll shock you
with an electrical chord
he's quite sinister
in his pit you're restrained
all your life he will drain
While you're chained to my pit
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