RAGE
It was as pure as the rain. Elemental and unbound. Before he knew it he had struck the dashboard in his car and the whole thing shook and the downpour cocooned his impotent fury from the glistening street and the couple frantically crossing it under one black umbrella.
It was unusual for Mark, that kind of anger. He choked the steering wheel with his fists. He had never actually hated anyone until the incident with Kate.
He despised the way that she could stick her hands into his life and almost surgically fuck it up. And what made it even worse was that he couldn’t strike back. He’d concocted plans; deviously beautiful plans of revenge that could make the elaborate soliloquys of Shakespeare’s villains seem unimaginative. The woman was a successful lawyer. When his ex-wife first introduced them just before they’d married, not knowing any better, he would have called this woman “beautiful” or “attractive”. She was very fashion-conscious, and always wore something just a little more elaborate, a little more expensive and noticeable, than she had to wear. Her hair was black, long and seemingly just barely contained. With her black-framed glasses and discerning green eyes, she always presented herself as intelligent and in control.
The day after she wrecked his marriage, he actually drove to her cozy eastern-themed apartment flat, to ask her, Why? Why wreck his marriage by propagating such disinformation? The made up rumors and the photo shopped pictures. With her door opened just enough she gleamed at him and said, “Because you were not good enough for her. Frankly, I don’t think you’re good enough for anyone. A syphilitic whore, maybe. This new guy, the guy I’m setting Sophie up with, is more suited for her I think. I’m the kind of girl who would do anything for my friends, even if they don’t even know that they’ve made a silly mistake.” And she firmly closed the door on him.
He knew he could prove that the pictures were photo shopped, he even knew a guy, an expert in those matters who could prove it. The next month Sophie was seeing somebody new. He’d heard from old associates that she was happy; they were going to Hawaii together.
***
Inside the car, listening to the percussive shroud of the rain, all of the bones in his right hand began to fuse together in pain. It was already beginning to swell. The new pictures, the ones taken of his latest girlfriend, Mary, came to mind. They were emailed to him from Kate, and he left them unread for a week. When simple curiosity (he’d even stupidly hoped for some kind of apology) broke him down he’d immediately regretted opening the file.
It was a series of photos, four of them, taken from an unsteady hand. The first one angled downward, on Mary’s pale, sweaty ass. Some guy’s oversized dick was almost all the way inside of her asshole, spreading it. Mark could make out several globs of cum splotched out all over her ass. In the background he could see Mary’s face turned toward the camera grinning with squinted eyes, stupid with pleasure, her face slightly blurred from the movement of the camera, or the motion of her body. It was her expression that hurt him the most.
In the second photo Mary’s short curly blond hair was overexposed. It looked like a halo. Her blue eyes looked up, regarding the camera with some kind of faux innocence. Her lips were wrapped tightly around this nameless man’s red cock, sucking his sperm out. The third photo was all blurred, slightly. Mark could see Mary sprawled out on a strange unmade bed. Her body was flushed, pink at her breasts and athletic stomach. On her stomach was written, in black marker, “Cum here” with an arrow pointing downward. There was cum all over her, her face and tits, knotted greasily into her golden pubic hair.
He couldn’t make it to the fourth picture. He closed the thing, sat up, and calmly, but with trembling fists, said something to his boss about stomach flu.
***
After about an hour he drove home. Perhaps the photographs were fake. It wouldn’t be the first time Kate had used such methods. By the time Mark had made it to his sparsely decorated home, he’d decided that the pictures were probably real. He didn’t quite know how, it had something to do with the lousy quality of the things.
With a sigh Mark opened the door, and heard that he left the TV on. He went into the living room and saw that a video taken of his and Sophie’s wedding was on, though he didn’t know how. He saw, in crisp high definition video, Sophie next to this unfamiliar smiling man that was himself sharing their first kiss of married life. How could she have been so easily swayed? How could I have been so stupid? He knew that rumors, true or false, had a way of making even trusting people doubt, if iterated enough times.
The gloved hands were around him, at his torso and his face, before he could even defend himself, so lost was he in thought. He kicked backwards, awkwardly, but only grazed his assailant’s shin. He felt the moist cloth around his lips; don’t breath, he thought, keep kicking. In the mirror before him he caught sight of his attacker, taller than him, and a face that was all flesh. Only slight indentations where the eyes should have been and only a slight downturned crease for a mouth. It was while witnessing this strange, irrational, vision that Mark unwittingly gasped, and his vision turned hazy and indistinct. Soon black clouds formed and commenced to eclipse his unraveling world.
FEAR
It was a cold beyond refuge, unceasing and skin-shivering. It was the cold, and the incessant hum of the air conditioning that brought him to life. He opened his eyes. It was a weird room. Painted a dark blue, and small. Only little more than enough room for the bed–no sheets, no blankets, just a mattress–and small table just to the right of it. On the table was a large jug of water and a single paper cup. Next to the cup was a bowl full of crackers and raisins. There was a large flat-screen television on the wall across from the bed. At the wall to the right of him there was a bright red door. It was the only door in the room. There were no windows. Something warm touched Mark’s exposed left calf. He realized he was nude. There was someone next to him, asleep. He tried to pretend that the long black hair and pale skin wasn’t familiar.
His neck ached; he reached up to feel his upper spine when his fingers met something cold and metal. It was around his neck and very tight. Turning in bed he saw a chain run from his neck to a tiny black aperture in the wall behind him. The woman next to him (he didn’t dare call her by name) also had a chain going from her to the same hole.
Something, some kind of panic, seized him. “Hey!” He shouted. “I don’t know what’s happening! Somebody let me out!” Despite the cold he felt beads of sweat already forming on his face. He felt the woman beside him shake into wakefulness. She sat up, eyes unfocused with the last remnants of a nightmare, confused.
“W-What’s happening? I was just at home… How can I be here?”
She blinked with slow dawning apprehension. She regarded the bed, the television. She felt the chain around her neck, and noticed with discomfort that she was nude. “Is this a nightmare?” Finally she noticed Mark. “Did you do this?” She said with a growing fury.
Before he could reply a merry little five note tune, emitted from hidden speakers, announced itself. A voice followed:
“Good evening.”
Kate and Mark were too stunned to continue into argument.
“You may call me D. Just D. You two will not see a whole lot of me, but you will hear from me often. Do not worry, as I have absolute no intention of harming you. Food and water has been, and will be, provided. There are two bedpans underneath the bed, so that you both may relieve yourselves when the time comes. The temperature will be brought up to more tolerable levels once you two comply with a few simple commands.”
D’s voice seemed processed, as if it were run through numerous audio effects. Its pitch shifted unpredictably and uncomfortably between highs and lows, emulating at times the high voice of a child, or the cavernous lows of a demon. There was a slight warble to it as well, which lent D’s almost casual tone a disturbing fragility.
“I have noticed from my, ehm, studies that you two do not quite get along. My commands for you two are that you simply kiss and make up… Well, to be honest, you will have to do a bit more than kissing…”
Kate looked at Mark, not even bothering to hide her disgust. D’s voice continued; only this time the television had turned itself on, as if to give a bizarre undercurrent to his speech. On the television what looked like foreign cartoon characters fought each other in badly animated set-pieces.
“If you two… do the deed, then I will guarantee that the temperature will be brought up to more inhabitable levels. Also I may provide you both with more satisfying food, and perhaps even bathroom breaks somewhere down the line.
It all remains your decision.”
REGRESS
They screamed, they cursed, for about an hour, until their throats were raw and itching with cold.
In disregard of D’s orders they each stayed on the opposite side of the bed, facing away from each other. The chains did not allow much room, and they could not do much more than walk perhaps five feet to each side of the bed.
The cartoon continued for a few minutes, and then changed randomly to a fishing show, and then an infomercial. Mark turned finally towards Kate. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“I’m not talking to you” She wasn’t even facing him when she responded.
“Fine, I’ve got to get out of here.” Let the bitch freeze to death, he thought.
Mark looked at the jug of water. The thought of using the water as a lubricant to slip the chain loose from his head was a no go. The chain was too tight; he’d probably kill himself if he tried to pull it off. He checked the aperture and saw nothing but chains rolled up inside. He suspected that the length of the chain was controlled somehow by D. On TV a man with a headset proclaimed the wonders of Shamwow. Mark tested the length of his chain again. Still just four feet from the side of the bed. Walking to the end of the bed was out of the question.
He checked under the bed, pulled his bedpan to his side (just in case Kate would do something very much in her character). The bed was bolted down. Both of the mattresses were sown together. I’m going to freeze to death in here. Mark crouched down on his side of the bed and made himself small, rubbing his arms for warmth.
That fucker! He wants us to resort to body warmth. Fat chance that. Absentmindedly he watched the TV change. It was some kind of artsy black and white movie, angels wandered about Berlin listening to peoples thoughts. Perhaps he could use the bedpan as a tool, or a weapon. It looked pretty sturdy, it was chrome and still new.
He heard a quiet laugh from Kate under the sound of the television. She was chuckling under her breath. Perhaps she has gone insane. Good for her, Mark thought. How possible is it, he pondered, that she is behind all of this. It was only a few minutes later when he realized that she was not laughing.
***
There was no clock. So they were not sure what time it was. Eventually Mark sat up on the bed, shivering and goose fleshed. It looked like Kate was squatting on the other side of the bed, trying to keep her exposed white skin from view.
“You can stay down there if you want, but you might as well come up here. Cold sinks you know.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Mark shrugged. He wanted to sleep, but his body wouldn’t even consider it. All I have to do is fuck this woman; D never even said it had to be consensual. We just have to copulate and D will turn on the fucking heater. Mark killed the notion. There was no way he would fuck her, not even to save his own life. Not after the things she’d done to him. No matter what, I’ve got free will. He reached for some crackers and started to eat.
Sometime later he heard Kate taping the foot of the bed with the bedpan. He looked underneath and saw her attempting to use the flattest angle of the bedpan to unbolt the bed. It was not working. It scratched and dented the bedpan but did nothing more. He saw that her eyes were red from weeping. She looked frail, a ghost of the woman she used to be. He noticed the curved constellation of freckles on her large breasts.
Mark sighed. “I know that you don’t want to hear from me, because you fucking hate me. And believe me, the feeling is mutual. If I could escape on my own and leave your skinny pale ass freezing in her, I would. But I think we need a plan. We. If we work together I think we have a chance of escaping. Maybe we could wreck the room, force D into showing up and then hit him over the head with the shitter.”
Kate slapped him. It was fast, he didn’t know whether to smile or slap her back. He felt the left side of his face tingle. At least that was better than feeling nothing. “You fucking idiot. He’s listening to everything we say. The room is miked. I’m certain that there’s a microphone hidden in here somewhere, and probably a camera. Don’t you get it? He stalked us before he kidnapped us and he’s watching us right now. He knows everything he needs to know.”
DISGUST
Somehow they both ended up sleeping. When Mark awakened he found that his arms were around Kate. It was purely instinct. She was warm where her body met his. Her body moved against him with each sleeping breath of hers. He was unsure whether to move away or to stay as he was, keeping himself warm. Mark’s prick nested snug against Kate’s pale left buttock. The movement of her sleeping body breathing made a pleasant friction against his length, despite himself. He felt blood rushing to his limp cock. Oh fuck. I can’t do this. The body warmth is one thing but this… His erection grew full and sturdy in the valley of Kate’s ass.
He withdrew from her warmth.
She moved a little. “Just put it in and get it over with.” She was not asleep. When she had awakened before him she knew what she had to do. She had been on the pill, and she knew that the effects had not worn off yet. If fucking Mark would buy her more time then she would fuck Mark. Just once.
Mark didn’t know what to do. He had a choice, had made his choice not to humor the pervert. But the will to live was stronger than he’d imagined.
Kate lay on her back, looking at the television, away from Mark. “Just do it and get it over with.” Mark was still hard. He didn’t want to look at her, the dark circles under her eyes, her unkempt hair, her shivering white body. He looked at the chains above them as he entered her in the missionary position. She was not wet, not at first. She was watching the television when he first entered her, trying to keep her sight away from his warm heaving body. As she watched the soap opera she winced in pain; he was large, not the size that she was used to. As his cock painfully met her cervix, she continued watching the distraction. She realized the TV had changed channels. It was now showing pornography. A man with an owls mask on was pummeling a woman wearing nothing more than a mask of flowers. His cock was glossed with the secretions of her arousal, and the masked woman’s cunt took in all in. Kate looked up at Mark, and saw that he was looking away from her.
Kate’s body was betraying her. She felt her own pussy becoming slick, making Mark’s entry easier. Mark continued fucking her, spreading her cunt and bathing his cock in her wet heat. The heat that they were generating, the pure warmth that enveloped his cock every time he plunged into her slippery hot pussy, was amazing. As he rutted into her he felt her large sweaty tits rubbing against his chest. Her nipples were hard. He felt the urge to cum. gradually his pounding became harder, as if he were trying to break her from the inside. Ruin her cunt. He looked down at her face. Her expression was warped in pain, and something else. Her eyes were shut in an attempt to block out the experience, but every time he slammed into her, shaking her sweaty body, the realization of what was happening came back in force. She made no attempt to stop him, and that infuriated him even more. She began to whimper with every thrust of his glistening cock, he actually felt her pussy pulling him in.
She finally began to protest. “No, please, stop…” And he continued. “I changed my mind, please.” This was the revenge that he had secretly dreamed of, in the darkest portions of his mind. He wanted her to beg and whimper. “Please, no, not like this…” To hear this woman, his enemy, beg like this, set him off. In a frenzy he set into her, plowing his cock into her soft, quivering, cunt. Despite her words he felt her hips rhythmically slapping up against his, obeying their own natural order. She tried to stifle a squeal, a high, shining sound that burst from her mouth regardless and pleased him more than anything. He came inside her, long streams of sticky cum were injected into Kate’s loosening pussy, and then pounded into her womb repeatedly. Such a burning hot release fused into Mark’s brain. He felt like god, filling her up with his seed. He could even feel Kate cumming, her pussy spasmed around him, snuggly, soaking up his sperm. He could hear her grunting, and as he looked down at her face he saw her crying as she climaxed. “No, no, no, no, NO…”
***
He dismounted her. Slowly, his high left him. She recoiled from him, in disgust, now openly weeping, sobbing uncontrollably in the fetal position on her side of the bed with her hands over her contorted face. Even though it was warmer now, Mark felt himself shaking. He was terrified; the thing which he had did to Kate terrified him. It was like he was someone else. It was as if when he was coerced into fucking Kate, a part of himself had dissolved and was replaced by something else. Some primordial part of himself that had waited for such a moment. He was terrified by the fact that deep inside himself, he knew that he had enjoyed what he had done.
The speakers piped in D’s voice.
“Congratulations! You have completed your first session. The heat has been turned up (in more ways than one!). If you two would like such creature comforts as heat and food to continue, then it would be in your best interest to continue the sessions. The schedule from now on is: Two sessions per day. If you choose to go through with both of tomorrow’s sessions, then I will offer bathroom breaks.
Remember, it is entirely your decision!”
On the television the pornography continued for the next several hours.
DENIAL
Sleep found them easily; after all, they were exhausted. When Kate had awakened she felt something sticky trickling out of her. It was not a nightmare. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about pregnancy for the moment, although what STDs Mark may or not be carrying after his dalliances with Mary she chose not to think about.
Kate moved to get some water. She was sore. Whatever anger Mark had for her had certainly came out during the “session”. Although the first time she messed with Mark she was simply acting in the best interest of her friend, the second time, when she had hired a private investigator to check in on him and found out that his girl was cheating on him with some tattooist, that was purely out of spite. She was even thrilled when the investigator managed to acquire the pictures that the tattooist had taken from his cell phone. That bit of theft required a deft hand, he had said. Kate knew she had to rub it in Mark’s face. She bet that Mark would even wonder if the pictures were fake or not.
The water was lukewarm. Tiny bubbles were beginning to form at the bottom of the clear jug. She could eat all of the food. She could take his bedpan and throw it to the other side of the room. All of that just to get back for what happened yesterday. I did not feel anything, she thought. What happened was this: I told him to fuck me and get it over with. He got on top of me and put his tiny dick inside. He lasted only a minute. He looked ridiculous. I did not feel anything, particularly pain. I did not cry. In fact, I made fun of him for his tiny dick. I did not feel anything, not even pleasure.
She didn’t know whether she would go through with the sessions or not. She needed a bath. She smelled of sweat and sex. Her hair was a mess, oily and tangled. She took a long gulp of water from the jug and put it back.
Mark slept noisily beside her, snoring. She thought she could kill him. Grab the chain while he is sleeping and pull and pull and pull until his eyes bulge and his face turns blue. At least it would stop his snoring. She wondered how D would react if she’d kill Mark. Would he even care?
Suddenly she knew she was going to go through with the sessions. She needed a bath, even a running tap and a bar of soap would do. She needed to wash herself out, to scour herself clean. And if she had do dirty herself with this “man” again to cleanse herself, then she would.