I think about you when he hurts me.
I knew something was up. Something really, really bad was going to happen. He was too happy, too excited. Giddy with anticipation for some torture he was eager to dole out to me.
I tried to pretend I was unafraid like you would have wanted me to. I stood tall with my chin up, emulating you when you address your men. Spoke to him as if I was the one issuing the orders. With all the force and conviction I could muster. I swear to goodness I really did.
Of course I failed. I was too scared. My body shaking and my voice squeaky. Giving away my fear in a heartbeat. He only laughed and dragged me downstairs to a room I’d never been to before. It looked like a dungeon. Some kind of torture chamber. I knew then that’s why he was so eager. He loves tormenting me. I screamed and fought but I can’t ever win against him. No matter how hard I try. I can NEVER win against him!
The stainless steel was freezing. At first, I didn’t know why he strapped me to the table completely naked. I could have at least kept on my shirt and panties. But of course he never thinks about what I want. What I need. Just stripped me down to nothing in front of everyone.
Even the poor artist was frightened. The gun pointed at his head kept him in line too. His hand trembled as much as my body. Which only made it worse when he was trying to draw on my frigid skin. Ordered to make damn sure the design was exactly what that monster wanted or he would kill the terrified guy.
I guess the drawing finally pleased him. The needle didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. But tied down in one position for four hours kills your neck with your head twisted to the side. My cheek hurt smashed against the cold, hard metal, and my arms and legs fell asleep which made me twitch and jerk uncontrollably. It was excruciating and I begged him to let me up. But they kept going until he was satisfied. When all I wanted was some relief.
What’s that saying—be careful what you wish for? That was exactly me in that moment. After too damn long, he pulled out the key to the cuffs and released me. Well, my ankles anyway and I was so grateful.
I shouldn’t have been.
Not when he looked at me like a conquest. Not when the bulge in his pants grew bigger as he stroked me. Not when he loosened the straps enough to lift me to my knees so he could fuck me from behind and look at my hideous new tramp stamp while he did it. With his men and the artist watching. I should have been ashamed. I should have been embarrassed. But as terrible as it is, I’m too tired to be humiliated by anything anymore.
I’ve become so weak, I couldn’t even fight him while he fucked me. Despite how painful it is when he forces himself inside me. How powerless I feel that I can’t stop him from violating me in front of them. Or how worthless I truly am to him when he smeared his release all over my tender back. I did cry though when he shot the tattooist in the face for warning him he could cause an infection by doing that. He doesn’t care. About me or my health or the man he killed. Taking the life an innocent person for trying to help me! Stealing him away from his family and friends. The people who care about him. The people who love him! Just like he did with me and you.
He didn’t seem to feel an ounce of remorse when he told one of the guards to take care of the body while he admired his mark on me. Permanently linking me to him and not you.
I was angry. And, so incredibly idiotic for arguing with him. But I wanted him to know that I hate him. That I despise him for what he did to that man and to me. That I will never, ever belong to him. I’m only yours. Even if you’re not here. Even if I never see you again. I’m always yours!
I WILL ALWAYS BE YOURS!!!!
He was angrier at me for screaming at him in front of his guards. More fury in eyes than I’d ever seen before when he choked me. His ugly scarred face pinched together with rage as I clawed at his thick hands on my throat until everything went blurry and my head flopped around like I wasn’t even there anymore. I thought I was really going to die this time. It scared me, that for the first time ever, I actually wished I would.
Obviously I wasn’t that lucky. At least when I woke up I was in the cage and not hanging from the ceiling again. After the suspension ripped my arm out of the socket last time, I guess he’s not going to do that to me anymore. He let me out after only two days. Only because he wanted to fuck me. (Sorry Mom :( ) Making me thankful I’m not being treated like a dog trapped in a pen any more. Well now that I think about it, I guess maybe I am. Chained to an owner who only wants to beat me and fuck me and torture me.
Ensuring no matter what I do, I can’t ever be free. I’m beginning to believe I won’t ever be free.