The red handkerchief was exactly where the message said it would be, folded over the closet handle. I grabbed it, worked it between her teeth, and knotted it behind her head before she could get her scream out. Then I turned her around.
Her mascara was already tracking dark lines down her cheeks from the exertion. Her chest was heaving. Her eyes — wide, bright, utterly in the scene — watched me with an expression that, on anyone else, I might have read as genuine terror.
I pinned her against the wall.
Stay in the role.
“Stay the fuck still, you little slut.” My voice came out low, controlled, barely audible beneath the music.
I looked her over — the thin nightgown, the oil gleaming on her leg, the rope coiled by the closet. “You’ve asked for this by leaving the door unlocked.”
She gagged a little as if trying to say something, maybe pleading with me to let her go.
I pinned her harder against the wall. She shivered as I looked at her from top to bottom with a twisted lust in my eyes. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here. Such a short, slutty nightgown, when you were all alone in this dark room. What did you think would happen to you? You’ve asked for this, you little bitch.”
I opened up the coil of rope, jerked both her hands forward, and tied up her hands tight with the rope. She yanked against the bindings as soon as they were done, testing the knot, her breathing coming in rapid bursts through her nose.
She squirmed and wiggled, but I quickly kept her pinned to the wall again. “Stay the fuck quiet, or I’ll do worse things to you than you can imagine. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
In some part of my mind, I wondered how Scarlett was able to have such an intense, natural reaction. How could she be in this role and willfully be in complete mercy of her tormentor, and still get so much pleasure from it? I wondered just how dark her sexual fantasies were. But it was my role to fulfill them. And tonight I was the masked intruder, here to force her to submit to me.
I took off the red handkerchief from her mouth and she gulped in some air. “You’re coming with me, slut”, I said and I picked her up on my shoulders. I took more rope from the closet, and walked over to the bed, and slammed her on it as if she weighed nothing.
She bounced once, her hair falling across her face, and immediately scrambled to the far corner of the mattress on her knees. She was shivering. Her skimpy nightgown had moved all the way up to her crotch, and I could see her black thongs.
The camera’s red light blinked at me steadily from the wall.
For one moment — one moment only — Camila’s face appeared in my mind. The ivory dress. The lipstick. The way she’d leaned toward her reflection.
I pushed it away. I had to push it away. Thinking about Camila in this room was the one thing I absolutely could not afford to do.
“What are you going to do to me?” Scarlett asked from the corner of the bed.
I looked into her eyes. “I’m going to treat you like the slutty bitch that you are.” And then I smiled at her. “I’m going to take you, and I’m going to punish those tits of yours like they’ve never been punished before. And when I’m done with you, I’ll leave you here, whimpering like a fucked-up slut.”
I hauled her arms to the headrest of the bed, and when she tried to resist, I grabbed her ankles and pushed her backwards with so much force that she looked genuinely terrified.
I remember our safe word- “ketchup”. I had to remind myself that if she felt genuinely unsafe and didn’t want this, she would have used the safe word already.
I got back into my role. I tied her hands to the headrest. She yanked hard at her hands and tried to free herself.
I grabbed her hair. She made a sound that was half-wince, half something else entirely. The camera blinked in the dark. The music pounded against the walls. I pulled her by her hair andbrought her face extremely close to mine. “Stay the fuck still, or you’ll regret it. Do you understand?”
She nodded, a stream of drool flowing down from the corner of her mouth. Thrown upon the bed, tied up, half naked and completely helpless, she looked so innocent, so terrified, yet desiring every single thing that was happening to her. I yanked her closer to my face and whispered loudly in her ears, “Here, you’re mine. And until I’m done with you, no one can come save you.”
“Fuck you.” she said.
I grabbed her hair again and yanked it harder. She let out a small scream.
“You bitch, in case you forgot, I’m here to fuck YOU.”
From the side of my eyes, I saw the time on the digital clock on the side table. Camila’s innocent face came floating out at me again. The way she looked when I handed her the freesias. Right now, she must be waiting for me to come back from my walk and take her to dinner.
The thought drove something sharp and cold through my chest.
I used it. I used the shame of it, channeled the self-disgust into the scene the way Scarlett required — rough, relentless, and all-consuming.
