The Dark Corners It has started out as a fantasy, but the rope dug into her wrists with an insistent

The Dark Corners It has started out as a fantasy, but the rope dug into her wrists with an insistent reality. The eerie silence of the abandoned basement only provided an echo chamber for harsh facts that she didn’t want to hear.  He’d first told her about it after a barrage of requests, her desperate to know what fancies lurk around the recesses of his mind, the places he kept dark even to himself. He’d whispered it into her ear as he’d fucked her, and each thrust hammered home the scene a little harder. It had lodged deep in her own mind, mixing with her own until it was some sort of monster. And now the rope around her wrists, and a mask over his face. He’d thrown her in here, taken her clothes, and tied her up. Knowing it was him hadn’t helped much, instead only letting her know that she’d survive this. That, eventually, she’d make it out the other side. In what state she couldn’t tell. Excitement was mixing with fear in her belly, and it was making her feel sick. He came down the stairs and the mask was gone. He was dressed in his best suit, and there was a half smile on his face. His distracted smile. The smile that told her that he was thinking, and his imagination was working at full force. She hated that smile. She loved that smile. She squirmed on the ropes, eyes flashing from him to his hands, to his empty hands.  “This isn’t going to go the way you think it will."  That was how he started. He paced around her like some predator in a cage, only she was in the cage with him. She felt like a sacrifice, only she couldn’t figure out which part of her was up for grabs. Which part she was about to lose. "I’m not going to beat you.” His hand against her thigh, trailing downwards. “I’m not going to break you."  She was whining now, wanting to say something, but she could only think in vowels, groans and moans the extent of her vocabulary. "Instead, I’m going to enjoy you. Slowly. I’m going to take my time with you, and…” His words slipped away, along with his hand, and she slid her hips in his direction, wanting a little more of that touch. “And you’re going to be a trembling wreck at the end of it, regardless. As if I had beaten you. As if I had broken you.” She whined again, a half sob that shuddered up her throat and burst past her lips. This wasn’t his fantasy, not like he’d told it.  This was something else entirely, and the surprise of it all was overwhelming. She’d wanted to be ambushed, but not like this. This she didn’t know how to deal with. “Ple-” She started to say, some last plead for him to turn into the sadist she could understand, rather than this calculating Machiavelli charmer that seemed far more dangerous. But her half question was met with rubber, a gag forced hard against her lips. “Snap your fingers twice if you want it to stop.” He whispered in her ear before his hand plunged between her legs, and expelled every last thought from her mind, even those lurking in the dark corners.  -- source link

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