The Fallen Angel

He gets to work, his eyes focused on whatever tools lay beyond my eyesight. I track him with my eyes or at least what he allows me to see as his grip tightens on my neck. Cold metal bites at my backside as I wiggle to adjust under his restraints, and the rustling sound of tools clanging in a metal box sends shivers down my body. A chuckle sounds from somewhere in the room and embarrassment floods my body as I realize once again, we are not alone. His companions sit just out of my eyesight, cloaked in shadows as they sip whiskey. Each man clean cut, seemingly so polite and put together in their three thousand dollar suits. Yet each man, even the one above me, has gathered here to enjoy their derelict needs. His sinister eyes find me again, pinning me in place and unable to even writhe under him by how his gaze stuns me. Twisted joy, looking similar to that of a psychotic killer enjoying his hunt, curls his once gentlemen-like face. The charming man that invited me here is gone, replaced by this dark and unhinged other personality. I’m speechless as the first touch of cold metal chains kisses my legs. His sick smile widens watching my fear grow within me. He takes a moment to enjoy my body under the single, harsh fluorescent lightbulb hanging above me. He studies how my body arches under him, how I react to his touch. I groan and grit my teeth as he pushes the first bit metal inside of me. My delicate folds contrast to the roughness of his chain, and I wonder if this, if I, am some sick and twisted experiment for him. Down here in this dank basement, it sure feels like it. He slaps my inner thigh and says nothing. But that look in his pine green eyes says everything- pay, attention. I force myself to relax under him and take it, allowing my wetness to ease the chains further in. His lips part as he pushes more of it inside of me. He pushes and pulls, playing yo-yo with the metal deep inside of me, pushing at my g-spot and making me nearly unraveling at the wrongness I feel. The wrongness that has me itching to clamp my legs together and write. It feels so strange and so wrong but so hot at the same time. I almost feel like I might combust from the ball of energy building within me. Never mind his entourage watching silently from the shadows, I need this. I need him. I abandon all pride and shame as I begin begging. “Please…” I plead on a near whisper, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as he pushes deeper. I can see the intensity grow in his eyes, his own arousal taking over him as his face becomes more intense, more concentrated. “Please… sir” I beg again. He lets his sick smile grow across his face before aggressively ripping the metal from me, leaving me hollow and aching for release. I’m surprised by how much he fit inside of me as I listen it fall to the ground like a snake. Somewhere beyond, more dark chuckles sound at my desperation, at me being broken like a prized animal for its master. My eyes snap back to his, only to find his fist swinging back and then- blackness.