#ThursThreads week 222

Prompt: http://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/thursthreads-tying-tales-together-week-222

Not until I know for sure that the medication has taken hold do I loosen the blindfold. Without the sedation she’d have screamed when she saw me. But with it she was delusional, believing I was her husband, handsome and rich and someone who wouldn’t rape her.

Oh, she’ll come out of her fugue state when I first penetrate her, the pain will take care of that.

And then she’ll be dead, which is too bad, because I think she really could’ve loved me, if she had been willing to talk to me, even to smile at me, to notice how much I loved her.

I looked down at her, tied down to my bed, and marveled at the dress she was wearing. Long enough to know she wasn’t a slut, short enough to give me just a little glimpse of thigh when she strolled past me on the sidewalk. She wanted that, I knew, and more – she wanted me to see all the way up – but when I told her so, told her what I could do to her pussy if she just gave me a chance, she turned and walked away.

Walked. Away. From a compliment from a nice man? What kind of woman does that?

She actually started crying before I penetrated her, when she felt me stripping her, no matter how much I complimented her lying bitch mouth or goddamned whore cunt.

Not that it stopped me, of course. I was hard, and she was mine.


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