The Fallen Angel

Fuck.

There’s fear. Bone chilling, electrifying fear. And something else I don’t have time to process. My eyes widen as the recognition hits me, earning a whole new wave of fear which sinks deep into me. He’s actually crazy. Not a little crazy like calls my phone countless times, no, he’s actually fucking crazy. And dangerous. For a single heartbeat I reach in the darkness for my phone, for a light, anything. But he’s too fast. He’s reacting before I can even draw in my next breath. His hand flies to cover my mouth and nose stifling my scream while the other holds my body down. With a single hand he controls me. All the muscles in my body mean nothing against his grip. “Don’t do that.” It comes out raspy and I can’t decipher if he’s angry or pleading. The hand on my body reaches up behind me to knot in the hairs at the back of my neck. I would say the hold brought tears to my eyes, but I was already crying. Already crying from my shock, my horror and most of all my helplessness. I always thought if something like this were to ever happen to me that I would be like one of those girls in the movies. That I’d put up a good fight and not even flinch at the shock of a home invader. But this is no movie, and the truth is I’m fucking horrified. This is someone I thought I could trust, relatively speaking. I thought we at least had that professional line that I have with everyone else in our small industry. But there were no consent talks tonight, no planning, no teasing. I haven’t fucking heard from him in over a week and even then we only just met last month. He’s new, and although I had a baseline of trust with him, I still don’t completely know him, which makes this all that more terrifying. Even worse, some part of me knew this could happen. I mean, you hear about a certain guy’s reputation and part of it sends up warning signals and another part of it draws you in because in my sick mind, I’m attracted to dangerous men. It’s always the same thought: “I’m attracted to someone who could kill me, has every ability to, but won’t because they like me too much.” But when that risk becomes very real and drags you out of sleep in the middle of the night, that reaction, that confidence is suddenly very different. With that hateful look in his eyes, I think he might kill me. Maybe he even already intends to and I’m just the dumb slut who fell into his barely even put together trap. Some part of me regrets my choices now. Maybe I brought this on myself. I mean I practically, actually I did, begged for him to come rape me. To drown me while he’s using my holes, to put his gun to my fucking head and play with me. Maybe he didn’t even need to set a trap at all. Maybe he just sits back and waits for willing victims like me to come and find him. He’s a handsome guy, hell, all he needs to do is roll up his sleeves and put his hands behind his head and the sluts will come running like his tattoos are the beacon. And I was one of them. I deserve this.

I hadn’t realized I was screaming until my throat started to burn. My eyes burned too but for a whole different reason. “Zane, please…” I beg as if there’s some way to talk him back to reality, to clarity. His grip in my hair tightens, “Stop. Shut the fuck up. If you utter another word, I’ll cut your tongue right out.” Oh fuck, he’s serious. The flash of his knife in the moonlight tells me so. I can’t help it, I shriek. Surely my neighbors will be able to hear me and they’ll call for help. I thrash and I fight but he’s quick to wrap his arms around me and capture my body. Unfortunately, instead of fighting it looks more like squirming, but I do my best anyway. “What did I just fucking say?! You really want me to hurt you? Huh?” His eyes darken and I get the picture. He will actually hurt me, not for my pleasure but because he can and will do whatever he wants to me right now. My body locks again as he moves the knife closer to me then presses the flat side onto my cheek where tears run in rivers. The cold metal feels like a dangerous drug tempting me to give in. Damn me if I do, I close my eyes and let my heart rate settle. He surprised me, that’s all. This is all for me I just need to trust him, I say to myself and repeat it until I believe it. A twisted smile curls at his lips “I knew you were a sick little slut but damn, you really do like having a knife pulled on you.” My eyes flutter back open to find his full of heat and danger. “But that’s not the toy you requested…” He releases me as he gets off the bed and digs into his bag. I take that moment to wipe away my tears and take a full breath in, trying to shake off most of the shock. But I stay silent, too afraid to shift whatever path has led him to get release me for the time being. “Close your eyes, I want this to be a surprise.” I cringe just a bit. Wasn’t this a big enough surprise? You showing up here? I can’t find the courage to say the thought out loud so I close my eyes and pray to whatever god will listen to me. In the darkness and silence, I wait patiently. Then suddenly a sound I’ve never heard before in real life but have heard many times in tv shows, movies, and videos games. The sound of a gun cocking. I sharply inhale at the sound of it and move to open my eyes, but his hand is around my throat nearly crushing it in his large hand. My eyes can barely open at all from the force of being shoved back down into my pillows and that’s when I feel the new cold metal pushing into my temples. I pry my eyes open through the strain of him choking me, through my tears of it all, and I find him licking his lips above me. “This is what you wanted wasn’t it?” I blink, unable to answer. “Answer me.” He shakes my body with his grip on my tiny throat. “Yes…” I barely whisper out. His hold eases then but the gun stays right where it is. “Dumb slut, you’re such a dumb fucking slut. You invited me here, you know that?” I stare up at him beneath his gun as he reaches down behind him and pulls up my t-shirt. His eyes stay locked on mine, and he smiles when he discovers I don’t sleep with panties. “You’re such a depraved little slut you’re actually getting turned on from this. Your pussy is fucking soaked from being a scared, helpless victim for me.” He brings his fingers soaked with my juices up to his mouth and sucks and damn me if that doesn’t make me start to actually feel some of the raging lust coursing through me beneath my fear. He goes back again this time burying his fingers inside my wet cunt. When they return this time, he throws my wetness in my face, “Such a depraved, needy hole. Come here.” He grabs me by my throat and brings me up then flips me over, slamming my head into the pillows. He must have set the gun down because all I hear next is the sound of his belt coming undone just before he lifts my hips practically throwing me in the air to land in doggy. Still I don’t fight, foolishly hoping that whatever he’s about to do will feel good.

10 lashes later, I’m starting to feel concerned about where this is going. I’ve had my ass beat and handed to me plenty of times during some on-camera bdsm work, I know I can take a lot. But he didn’t start out slow. No he started at max, or what I feel like is max, and hasn’t let up. I’m doing everything I can to keep my back arched and my thighs relaxed but fuck, it hurts. I grip my t-shirt in my fist while I clench my teeth. “Yellow” I whisper when my body starts to tremble. He slaps again with his belt like I never said anything. Leather meets flesh, I take one more, two more lashes, and on the third I cry out feeling wetness splash between my bruised thighs which I know must be blood. “Yellow!” I cry again writhing under him. He only shoves my head down to muffle my pleas and says, “shut the fuck up” sounding exasperated by my begging. He hits me again, over, and over until I’m crying, shaking. The pain is like fire that won’t let up on my ass which is too exposed, my back too arched, everything too prone to the pain. “Red!” I finally cry out, desperate for relief and he stops. I sob into my pillows. My body trembles as I try to bring myself down and though I know this isn’t over I take a deep breath and finally relax. Next thing I know, he knocks me out with the barrel of his gun.

How fucking beautiful is she… God I’m such a good artist. The marks I’ve left on her thighs and ass are so fucking perfect. Blue, purple and my personal favorite, red, cover her skin. Some areas have even started to rise leaving ridges across her and fuck, the patterns from my belt are imprinted in some spaces. I sit there for a moment admiring my work in the stillness of her bedroom. From somewhere outside the distant chirp of crickets lulls the darkness with me. She probably thinks this is over. She’ll probably wake up and wonder what even happened. Poor little victim, she asked for it and I’ve barely even done anything to her yet.