Darkroom

by Poppet

  She feels so good. Petite and perfect. Her nubile body supple from dancing. Forcing her legs wider, I take the satisfaction of watching myself plunder hers.

  Mine. You are mine. You will crawl for me.

  I have two favourite cameras. One digital, the other Polaroid. I prefer the Polaroid, I derive satisfaction in the process of developing film. In the dark. With patience for the process it takes to create the perfect image. Hanging the Sony around my neck, my finger reflexively captures the victory union.

  Rohypnol ensures the victim has no recollection of events. But under the influence, they are easy to manipulate and are responsive, depending on the dosage administered. I take her again. Power surges through me, keeping me hard. Hardening again and again. I know she's the one because each time I try to break her, she's more eager. Willing. Opening her mouth, slipping her tongue around and underneath me. I grab fistfuls of hair, and she doesn't even whimper. Thrusting deep into her mouth, she simply closes her eyes, holding lazily to my body. One hand strays between her legs. I slap her cheek hard to get her to stop wanting her own pleasure. Taking another photo. Up to the hilt, framed with pink lips, her pixie nose inhaling me. Reluctantly I withdraw so she can breathe.

  "Worship me woman."

  Her tongue snakes out, pushing into me as she sucks my head back into her mouth. She was born to be a whore. Convulsing into her mouth, I grip her head so she can't move.

  "You are an evil whore. I must punish you."

  Thrusting her off the male rod of command, my grip is cruel. I feel it and am fighting myself. I don't want her to have bruises that I'll have to explain. Forcing her head into the bed, turning myself on as she chokes for air, I slam into her. Her knees give and I'm forced to hold her hips to keep my erection inside her.

  "Discipline is what you need."

  Plunging hard and fast, her breath is ragged, moaning emanates from her.

  "Shut – up – you – filthy – whore."

  Damn it. She's so hot, all around me, warm honey entombing me. I can smell her lust and hate her for ruining this. This is my moment. How can her body be so compliant and perfect? How am I to exact God's wrath on her when she's so eager to get a good fucking?

  Gripping her body I force her skin wider apart, watching myself, taking random photos, the video cam is hidden and I can watch this all play out frame for frame when she's gone home. I need her to hurt. Let me hear you cry out you bitch in heat. Finally the salve of her cry kisses me tenderly. I cum again, needing to mark her. In every way that I can. I take her anally, getting immense satisfaction from the cries that elicits.

  I wipe off with her hair before sitting on her. It's biblical to be dried with a woman's hair. Rubbing the rod between her breasts. Watching pink nipples react with hardening, using her hands to tickle my sacs, pushing fingers into her mouth while giving her creamy neck a pearl necklace. Feeling mildly exhausted I lay down beside her, pleased with the marking of her.

  Again I force her legs apart, pushing her knees up to expose the softness I want to hurt for days after this. Unchallenged power makes me hard; this domination is my reward for months of painstaking patience. Using my hand to rape her this time, knowing exactly which angles will inflict the most bruising from tedious years in medical school, I take her again.

  "Let me hear you Shauna. I can't hear you screaming yet."

  Using knuckles and brute strength, I fuck her. When her pitch sounds right to me, whimpers because she's unable to scream, I withdraw the hand with smug satisfaction. My bitch. My angel. Mine.

  So hard with longing and arousal that I slip inside her a last time. Amazed that the suppleness of a body keeps it sucking moistly around me regardless of what I do. Finally content that she has been suitably disciplined using the only language she seems to understand, I leave the room, taking both cameras.

  After a shower I pick up my covert phone and text. "That is a better choice."

  I rearrange her in bed before lazing next to her. Tracing the nearest nipple with sensitive fingers. Glee grips me when it hardens pertly. Sucking it hard, my hand claims the other. Rolling it, teasing it, pinching it. Deriving nurturing from her enticing body, I wonder again what mother was like. Did she have huge breasts bloated with milk? Or was she petite like the handful in my embrace? Were hers pink like Shauna's? Or dark? Why did Father reject her? How did she sin?

  Awareness dawns on me with Shauna's pained moan. I withdraw from biting the nipple. Licking it tenderly, to soothe it back in apology, tracing the hairless body with the hand on her other breast. Sliding between her legs, finding a reaction waiting for me. I knew she secretly loved discipline. Pain teases her erotically. She is the perfect angel for Vengeance.

  Generosity overcomes me as I trace her folds, applying pressure. Watching her lips moisten tentatively with a shy tongue. Breath raising her chest closer to my face, shuddering gasps emanating through parted lips. She responds to me. Both her lucid and unaware moments with me betray her. She desires me.

  "The whore likes this?"

  In mindless slumber her legs move eagerly of their own accord. I am her master and she responds to me beautifully. Leading the orchestra of her desire, I manipulate the succus response under my fingers. I can allow her some pleasure to hold onto. She took the punishment well, I will gift her this. My smile betrays me when she orgasms.

  The smug joy quickly replaced with bitterness, "Don't you ever let that bitch touch you again."

  Rage moves me to chastise her once more, enjoying the bounce of her chest with the force of my anger. Her flesh trembles before me. Subconsciously she recognises her master. Deriving satisfaction when I finally see a trickle of blood with my withdrawal from her body; to coldly turn my back on her.

  Changing my mind three minutes later, I roll to face her. Turning her by the chin to face me with slumbered eyes, "Give me a son and I will forgive you."

  Chapter 19

  A photograph is usually looked at – seldom looked into.

  ~Ansel Adams

  Eventually the tickle on my thigh rouses me to move. Moving the duvet away to look at what is crawling there, the sight of blood alarms me.

  Shit. I can't be coming on now? Mentally checking my last tablet, nope not for at least a week. Embarrassed I sit up to go to the bathroom when I notice he's not here.

  On cue he strolls in, pressing a button next to the light switch to open the curtains, flooding me with unflattering daylight, holding a black mug. Familiar music filters in. He even likes the same kind of music!

  "Good morning. Made you some coffee."

  He puts it down on the beech table next to me before kissing my forehead. "I'm going to shower. You're welcome to join me."

  I must be dead. Vengeance dropped that flame last night and now I'm in heaven. Swallowing awkwardness, I can't help the magnetic trail of my eyes down his body. I really need to get to a gym.

  "I think you turned me into a virgin."

  Oh I did. You just didn't know it. "Why do you say that?"

  Sheepishly I smile, "Just, the symptoms are there."

  Our blood covenant.

  "You're a tight fit, princess. Enjoy that coffee."

  His smile is so flattering with an expression that's smug and charming. I watch him stroll out, naked. I wish I had that kind of masculine confidence, without having the urge to suck my stomach in and stop my ass from moving when I walk.

  Lazing back I sip from the matt black mug. Everything is wood and black in here. Even the closet doors are matt black. Clean lines. Angular. No fuss. Not too dark either. The hues compliment each other. He's a heck of a lot neater than me. Fingering the duvet cover, I realise it's silk. Must be nice being a doctor and having that kind of budget. The headboard is black suede. Moving, I examine the print hanging over the bed of a black and white female nude.

  Well I fit right in. She could be me. I must be his type. Pity the head's missing. She has long dark hair curling sensuously around her breast. Sexy. One leg pulled up obscurin
g the leg behind it as she reclines on her side. Curvaceous hip highlighting hollows in shadow. I wonder if he took it? How could I ever have considered him even remotely gay?

  Feeling daring I put the mug down on the leather coaster. I'm going to help that sexy boy shower.

  "Hello minx. So I tempted you after all?"

  "Minx?"

  Stepping in with him, he commandeers my body under the water. Moving my hair to rub gelled hands over my shoulders, kneading me delectably.

  Fuck me, I could get so used to a man like this.

  "You're insatiable. I'm fit, but even I was beginning to feel it after the tenth time."

  I can't remember past the first time. "Really? Ten times?" I'm trying hard to remember but his hands are manipulating the muscles in my back with sedating precision.

  "Put your hands against the wall so I can use some strength here."

  I brace myself as his soapy hands work froth up and down my back in languid firm strokes. "Hmmm. You are a god."

  "Don't you remember?"

  "No, not really."

  "It must be post traumatic stress. It's common to have memory loss after a big scare."

  He lathers my hair, fingers rubbing massaging circles into my scalp. I could die happy right now. Hmmm, firm fingers relaxing my neck. "You are turning me inside out."

  Soapy hands knead my breasts, covering every inch of me. Shit that burns. I haven't felt this since my first few times. He steals my breath as he moves me back under the jet-stream to rinse off. "How come you're single? I feel like I've stepped into an alternate reality."

  Stepping closer, he holds me against him; water running between us, as if to separate, but instead it causes a suction of skin on skin.

  "How come you're single?" he challenges back.

  "Meaning?" Staring up into treacle soft brown eyes, his smile is so fucking cute. He oozes sex appeal without even trying. He's perfect. Feeling oddly humbled I drop my eyes to stare at the crevice running down the centre of his chest.

  "Any woman who uses her mouth like that should belong to a man. And he'd be stupid to let her go."

  My cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Was I naughty then?"

  "I wouldn't mind an encore."

  Chuckling softly I step away from him, he relinquishes his hold compliantly. Looking down I blurt, "You are very intimidating to someone as little as me."

  "Intimidating?"

  Holding him in a hand, I slide my grasp sensuously, "Yes. You are well built in every sense of the word. I wish I could remember last night, because I'm feeling decidedly nervous now."

  Tilting my chin up, his smile caresses my worries; soft lips cover mine. My free arm snakes up to encourage his head to stay with me. Firm hands hold my face as he walks me backward to the tiles, flat against them, invading my mouth with unrestrained fervour. My body reacts, chasing fear away.

  I must have been bloody sensational last night. I'll do my best, if it keeps him with me. As he breaks the connection, I plant an exploratory kiss on the skin in front of me. Tracing my way down his body with soft kisses and a curious tongue. He tastes soapy. And I don't care. I'm alone, in a shower, with a god. Now let's see how much I missed last night.

  Between the caressing, sucking behind, around, on top, in, out, and the tea-bagging, his explosion takes me quite by surprise. Dancing in the shower, he tilts my head back, the water spray cleanses again. More gel-soap, tender hands; I return the gesture, unprepared for the ease with which he lifts me, pressing my shoulders for sturdiness against the wall. Distracted from the adoration of tensing arms and shoulders, I experience burning pain. My body conflicted between signals of pleasure and pain pulses. Wrapping my legs tightly around his hips, jolted, surrounded with water, skin, the noises alone make me want to laugh. One arm supports me as the other firmly holds the middle of my back. Pulling us out of the shower, he lowers me onto the floor. Sopping wet, water dripping off his nose into my eyes, I close them reflexively.

  The running water sounds like a hollow waterfall. Stubble scrapes the skin on my neck. But my focus is completely side-tracked by the overwhelming pleasure. Jesus this guy knows what he's doing. Gripping his back, my body tenses. Gasping cry emanates. Vision vanishes. Momentarily blind. Tingles in my toes. Then the pain explodes. I feel like he's tearing me in half when his body tenses inside mine, widening for his own climax. Jesus fucking Christ.

  I open my eyes to see him watching me intently.

  "You okay?"

  I should be more experienced than this. I feel like a newbie, caught off guard. "Yes."

  "You looked like you were in pain."

  I hide behind a smile and lie, "It's my orgasm face."

  His eyes seem to be trying to read my mind with the sharp intensity trained on mine. He grins before kissing and sucking my left nipple. "You saucy girl. You're going to have to become a regular around here."

  For some reason even my nipple feels oversensitive. Rubbing my palms under his chin, "Only if you shave."

  His laugh is seductive and easy. Slipping out of me, he stares unabashedly at my body, "You're like a fairy."

  I smile, sitting up. If looks could fuck, I wouldn't be able to walk for a week.

  "I'm going back in that shower." A hand is offered as he stands. Accepting the grasp, he hauls me up so fast I experience vertigo. Supporting me, he walks me back into the shower, tenderly soaping me up again.

  "I'm feeling dizzy."

  "You need food, baby."

  I watch him rinse off and step out of the shower after silencing the water. A towel wraps around me, embraced again, I feel the affection. This guy is so tender and sweet. Bloody thoughtful too. I thought men this fabulous were extinct.

  Sitting down on the toilet seat lid I watch him fill his palm with shaving foam, in front of the mirror. He has an extractor fan on that prevents the mirror from steaming up. Lethargically I dry my hair, watching the way he strokes the razor over his face with precision. Catching his reflected gaze, I see he's smiling at me. "What?"

  "I'm still alive. How many times have we done it? And he hasn't popped me off the planet yet."

  Frowning, I pause in mid hair squeeze, "Where's my phone?"

  "Your place."

  Mesmerised I watch him rinse his face and come swaggering over to me, a towel hugging his hips sexily. He runs his cheek down mine. "Better?"

  I nod, grinning back, until it becomes a wide smile.

  He laughs as he returns to the basins. Picking up the toothbrush I used previously and throwing it to me. "Catch."

  He puts toothpaste on his electric toothbrush, then passes the toothpaste to me. Happy to be thoroughly clean, I start brushing. We could have been together for years, we're that comfortable.

  I know that mint causes tingles. After brushing our teeth I pull him between my legs, me sitting on the lid again. I get a thrill of pleasure staring up at him while I run tingles over the sensitive erection that I just induced, with my tongue. He's staring down with an enigmatic expression. It's hard not to smile when his eyes close and his neck forces his Adam's apple into highlight. He's gorgeous. He's comforting. And finally I get the pleasure of hearing this hunk moan.

  ***

  When she kneels before her maker I can barely contain myself. With soft lips pressing eagerly against me, her willing tongue leaves a trail of aching desire in its wake. I nearly come in her face when she sucks my balls into her mouth, one by one. So hot, wet, evil; evil woman. She worships properly. I cannot fault her touch. I commanded, and she fell to her knees in adoration. Mindless unquestioning worship surges me into an impaler.

  Restraint is harder when she's so compliant to please. Her tongue is succulent velvet, stroking, pleasing, teasing. Fuck! Pushing her back under the water. I'm not touching a face with my fluids all over it.

  Is it worship or is she just a slut? Is she worshipping or is she simply a fallen angel beyond redemption?

  She must hurt. Picking her up, I slide hard inside her. The water should dil
ute lubrication, making her feel the pain of loving me. The pain of her sins. The pain all woman deserve for Eve's mistakes. Look at her, moaning and gasping. She's enjoying this!

  Shoving the door open I force her soft body onto the hard floor. Nailing her with all the brutality I can muster so her bones will ache because the floor is unforgiving. But she clings. Soft lips tracing my shoulder.

  My resolve softens with her neediness. So delicate and fragile. Her diminutive frame so pleased to lay under mine. Willing to submit in her weakness to my strength. She holds without ever scratching. She doesn't object even though I know it hurts her. She's taking her punishment with humility. Softly caressing my neck while I make her whimper. Her submission overwhelms me. Unable to continue the punishment because of the unbearable pleasure she gives me on every level of my being. The cashmere heat of her thighs, her gasps, taking the pain for my pleasure. I lose control, filling her again, yet she is grateful. Her face holds rapturous delight; unveiled adoration. Unlike the terrified eyes I've stared into for months, she gazes at me with affection.

  When she invites my body between hers, staring up at me with gullible blue eyes lined with dark lashes, the sharp freshness of her mouth wrapped around me, vengeance flees. She's so desperate for my approval, assuming her rightful place, lowering before me, seeking lasciviously to give me more pleasure without demanding any for herself. I relinquish self control for the euphoria. Surrendering my guard briefly, to indulge in sheer ecstasy. I have achieved the impossible. She is completely mine. Relishing her touch, the caresses, kisses; incredible sensations, my first groan of pleasure surprises even me.

  Father never allowed this. I never allowed it. The flesh is weak. But now I realise it is not weak when it's so willing, seeking to grant safe haven in ecstatic celebration of life. Her expression reveals vulnerable adoration. She wants to do this. It's a gift. She is giving back to me. Her gratitude undeniable. And I need to see those eyes staring up at me in worship, feeling strangely calm, experiencing a sharing instead of the marking as the hot mouth accepts my return gift. Body to body.