*****
He came to the door of the cage, like he always does. Opened it. Looked at me. Smiled.
It's always the same. He comes during the first part of the night, when Willow goes to hunt. He stays the first bit, so he knows he can get me alone. Later he joins Willow in the hunt like normal. Doesn't mention anything that happened in her absence. Doesn't tell her what he does to me when we're alone. Doesn't tell her what I do to him.
This night wasn't much different. He lingered longer than usual in the door, just watching. I stayed huddled in a ball in the corner, watching back. I didn't want him closer. The lopsided grin, the cross on a chain held a safe distance away, the holy water I knew he had stashed in his jacket pocket all screamed at me that he needed to be as far away from me as I could get him. And yet I hoped he would come just a little closer. Because, despite it all, I love the rush that he gives me.
Finally he took a step toward me. His smile was wider than usual, and his gait a little more arrogant. If that was at all possible. "Puppy," he greeted me as he came to a halt just in front of me. He leaned down and caressed my cheek lightly with the dangling cross. I winced as I felt the skin beneath char and burn. "You've been a bad, bad puppy."
I opened my mouth and tried to make words come out. But they wouldn't. It'd been so long since I drank, since I felt the heat of blood coursing through my veins, that I couldn't muster the energy to make my throat work. I just gaped at him like an idiot. He took this as a cue to punish me further.
"What's the matter puppy?" he asked. "Cat got your tongue?" He snickered at his own joke, then let the cross press harder against my cheek. He ran it up and down the tenderizing flesh, all the time keeping his eyes trained on mine. "Hurts doesn't it?"
I nodded. It was all I could do in my weakened state. He wasn't happy though.
"Bark puppy!"
The cross trailed against my lips and there it was, my voice, bubbling up through my throat. It ripped out in an agonized shriek of terror and pain.
"That's a good puppy," my tormentor murmured. "You want some more?"
I wanted to shake my head no. Either pull away from him or attack him with one of the many weapons he held. He was so close not even the chains would stop me. But I didn't. I only stared. I whimpered when he shook the cross in my face, then stared some more. Something about his grin just fascinated me.
"You do," he answered for me. "You want your master to hurt you, don't you? On your knees, puppy. I want you close."
I complied, closing most of the short distance between us. He dropped the cross on the concrete beside him and I closed my eyes, the first wave of relief flooding over me. He took notice of this and grabbed me by the neck. "Don't be so happy, puppy," he snarled. "There's plenty more here for me to play with."
I opened my eyes. And there he was. I'd forgotten how good he could look. Those eyes, the hair, everything set off just perfectly by the pearly white skin and black leather jacket. I'd felt attractions like this before, yes, but never with the insane intensity. He's mocked me, spit on me, tortured me until every part of me quivered in pain. And yet I want him. My stomach leaps into my throat at the very feeling of his hand on my body. And that night, with his hands clenched too tightly around my neck, the attraction was ten times stronger.
If he felt anything at all, he didn't show it. He loosened his grip, just enough to let me believe I might make it through another night without a broken neck, and captured my mouth in a kiss. Not gentle, like mine had been with so many, or lusty like his and Willow's. It was all about power, dominance. His tongue tangled with mine to let me know he was in control here. I was just along for the ride.
He pulled his lips away at last, the smile returning to his lips. This was my first sign that real trouble was coming. He always gets playful after the first kiss. And playful for him usually means painful for me. I whimpered again as he reached into his jacket pocket.
"You ready for your punishment, Puppy?" he asked. He got to his feet and looked down at me. I stared up, fascinated as always. I watched as he removed the bottle, unscrewed the cap, then tilted it slightly downward. "Where do you want it?" The bottle tipped and a searing pain hit my bare shoulder. "What about here?" Another tip, this time it splashed just below my neck.
I let out another whimper, and as more of the water splashed and burned my neck, it turned into a deep throated growl.
"Bark puppy."
I half-bellowed, half-barked. Must aim to please.
He smiled again, then his free hand moved down, catching his zipper between his thumb and index finger. The zipper was down in a second, then he worked on the button. He didn't bother pulling down his pants. He just reached into the silver gray boxers and pulled it out. He bucked his hips forward, shoving his dick toward my mouth.
He was half hard already, but I knew how to bring him to full attention. Wrapping my lips around his shaft, I engulfed him. My tongue and throat began immediate work as his dick continued to harden and rise within my mouth. I could feel my own dick stirring in response.
His left hand tangled in my hair, as it always did. His right hand, still clutching the bottle of holy water, tilted just a bit over my head. The water splashed onto my hair and scalp, causing both to sizzle and burn. A few scattered drops hit his hand in my hair and he too cried out. We vamped out simultaneously, just as I felt him nearing him climax.
All it took was a light tug with my lips and my fingers on his balls and he came hard, shooting his semen to the back of my throat. I swallowed, then rose up, my erect dick begging for attention.
He took his cue, dropping to his knees before me, his earlier need for dominance apparently disappearing. In a matter of seconds my pants were down and he had me in his mouth, gently suckling. I counted the seconds his lips were around my dick. One, two, three, four, then he removed them, scraping his teeth ever so slightly across the tip before pulling away completely.
He stood again, replaced the lid on the holy water before stuffing back into his pocket, bent to carefully retrieve the necklace, then left the cage without a glance back.
Alone again with my thoughts. My thoughts are always dark, that night was no exception. I was left wondering the same thing as always, the same disturbed question echoed through my head. Who's sicker: him or me? The sadist or the victim? He tortures me until I hate him, makes me hurt in places I didn't even know existed on my body, humiliates me without even a hint of shame.
But he always leaves me wanting more.
~end~