Slenderman's Dark Gift

"Sit the fuck up, cunt."

I struggled upright and began bouncing, fucking him. He was completely dressed except for his cock. His jeans felt rough as I bounced my ass into the open zipper and fabric bunched up around his penis.

The pressure inside was almost as painful as it was pleasurable. With each bounce, jolts of pain shocked my bruised tits. Next to the bed, the Slenderman watched.

Mr. Hartman noticed every time I was close to orgasm and made me stop, pausing to let the arousal fade before he made me start again. I imagined this was having the same damping effect on his own arousal. It was a long time before I felt the unmistakable coating of his cock with his ejaculation.

I shuddered and cried.

"Get off me." Mr. Hartman pushed me off the bed and I fell to the floor.

He closed up his cock back inside his clothes and sat up. Miserably, I got to my knees and squeezed my legs together, trying to relieve the terrible need of my clit. My hard nipples betrayed my continued state of arousal.

Beneath me, Mr. Hartman's cum pooled onto his spotless wood floors.

"Why are you still here, demon?" Mr. Hartman spat at the Slenderman who lingered at the foot of the bed.

The Slenderman stared, silently. He cupped one slender hand downward and I was pushed down until my face was pressed into the floor. I blanched as I remembered how my letter had ended. How I would finally get my release.

I want my rapist to force me to beg to be allowed to cum. I want him to degrade me in the most terrible way, to be pissed on while I desperately try to masturbate myself to climax.

The Slenderman did not speak, but merely reminded me of my horrible fantasy. I would have to beg for it. The tie that gagged me came undone and fell to the floor, allowing me to speak.

"Please," I cried. "Please... Ppp-please."

"Please what, whore bitch?"

"Ppp-please let me cum? Let me masturbate..." I gasped as my face was ground harder into the floor, a reminder that wasn't all I had to beg for.

"Ppp-please ppppee, ppp-please piss on me.' I sobbed, ashamed of myself.

"I'm still too fucking hard to piss." Mr. Hartman said mirthlessly. "You're fucking shadow demon drugged me, remember? Fucking sick witch."

"Noooo. Nnnot mine." I protested.

"Like hell he's not yours. I can tell this is getting your whore ass aroused. This is just one fucking big fantasy for you, isn't it? Admit it bitch, you like this."

I dragged in a ragged breath and tried to lie. "I... I... don't..." My body was seized by a painful spasm. I remembered, the Slenderman can't stand liars. I might survive this if I was honest, but if I lied, he'd kill me. He always killed the liars.

"I like it," I said finally. "I wanted this."

"Heh! At least you're an honest bitch." Mr. Hartman smiled down at me. His fat stomach rolled over his pelvis and his drooping old man jowls quivered as he laughed at me.

He reached down and grabbed the tie around my neck.

"Well, you'll just have to follow me around like the bitch you are until I'm soft enough to piss, how about that, cunt? I guess there's no other way to get rid of your freakish friend, is there?"

He walked out of the room, using the tie like a leash. I crawled after him on my knees. It was very hard to do with my hands still tied behind my back. But Mr. Hartman went slowly.

When he got to the kitchen, he filled a bowl with water from the tap and set it on the floor in front of me. I lapped it up like a bitch, my clit pulsing with need.

He watched me as he popped the cap off of a beer and guzzled it.

"You know, I haven't felt this relaxed since my wife died. She was a lot like you, you know, a real glutton for punishment. I loved that cunt, and then she went and died on me, the bitch.

"I guess I've been a real prick to you, hmm? And yet, you fantasized about me so intently you managed to stir up a real, fucking, sex demon! God fucking damn, girl."

He glanced over at the Slenderman, who was still watching.

"Bet you wish you had a dick now, don't you, you fucking mute bastard!"

The Slenderman did not move or speak, but somehow, I got the impression of amusement from that shadowy presence.

"I bet you didn't even believe in demons, did you, stupid cunt. Fucking kids think they know fucking everything, don't they?" Mr. Hartman cackled. "Well, little miss priss bitch, what do you think of your fantasy now? Is it everything you dreamed of?"

"Yes, Mr. Hartman," I said, now well beyond all thoughts of resisting this degradation.

Mr. Hartman downed the last of his beer and opened up another one. I kneeled and looked up at him. His ice blue eyes were cold and hard. How could one man hold so much anger and passion, I wondered. How had his wife taken it?

And why was I jealous of her? Why did I crave this cruelty? The belt had been terrible, the cocksucking painful, the strangling frightening, but now in this calm moment, I couldn't regret it.

The worst is yet to come, I reminded myself. Was that why he was drinking so much beer, so he'd have a lot of piss? Yes, this man was practical to his core, that's exactly what he was doing.

My nipples hardened and my pelvis tightened. I wanted to masturbate so badly it hurt.

Finally, Mr. Hartman finished his second beer. He adjusted his cock roughly and grunted in satisfaction at whatever he felt under his flabby belly. He dragged me back down the long hallway to the bathroom. Reminiscent of an hour ago, he untied my hands and put me in the shower.

"Alright, you can start, cunt."

My arms were sore and trembled as I began rubbing at my clit.

Mr. Hartman withdrew his penis for the third time, but this time it was floppy in his hand. He aimed it at my head.

"Open up!"

Tears leaked from my eyes as I opened my mouth. The first spurt of piss landed right on my tongue. Mr. Hartman had excellent aim. The liquid was warm and sweet. I let his piss fill up my mouth but couldn't bring myself to swallow.

Warm dribbles of piss leaked out of my mouth and down my face and neck. Mr. Hartman adjusted his aim and soaked my tits with his pee. The liquid stung when it hit a scratch or abrasion that had been left by the belt.

At least urine is sterile, I reminded myself as I kept rubbing my clit furiously. Then, my hand and pussy were being drenched in piss as well. That's when I came. The pulse of pleasure culminated in a glorious orgasm. I shuddered with it and swallowed the sweet piss that was still in my mouth and cried.

In the doorway, the Slenderman waved his thin hand goodbye and faded away.

Mr. Hartman flipped on the shower, "clean yourself real good, bitch."

When I got out of the shower, I found a fluffy towel and robe waiting for me. I dried off and put on the robe. I sat on the toilet for a while and thought about what had just happened. My fantasy had come true. It was both everything I'd hoped for and nothing like I'd imagined.

Yet, I felt at peace.

Finally, I got up and left the bathroom, walked down the hall, and out the door. I went back to my apartment, changed, and returned the robe to Mr. Hartman's door.

Three weeks later, the bruises scratches of my rape fantasy were all faded into memory alone. I hadn't talked to Mr. Hartman since I'd left his apartment. I still left my curtains open when I masturbated and played loud music, and even left my newspapers uncollected for several days in a row. But he hadn't come by once to yell at me for it.

Sometimes, I wondered if I'd imagined the whole thing, maybe dreamed it. Because the Slenderman wasn't real, everyone knew that.

Now, though, I couldn't deny it any longer. Not looking down at the two bold lines on the pregnancy test. I was going to have Mr. Hartman's baby.

I palmed the positive test stick and walked slowly to Mr. Hartman's apartment. My whole body thrummed with arousal. I could no longer wait for him to come to me. Nervously, I knocked on the door.

A young man, my age, answered the door. I'd never seen this man before. He was handsome, a younger, thinner, version of Mr. Hartman, with the same cold blue eyes.

"Is Mr. Hartman here?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Mr. Hartman is dead." The man said. "Fucking bastard didn't take care of his diabetes. Died nearly two weeks ago. Damn him."

I gaped in shock, "dead?"

The man frowned, "who was he to you, anyway?"

"I... I'm pregnant with his baby." I said, holding out the pregnancy test, dumbfounded.

The man narrowed his eyes, "You must be the witch bitch."

I nodded, too numb to be hurt by the words.

"Fucking come inside then, cunt." He said cruelly. "Gramps said I needed to get my ass down here and fuck you. I guess I might as well."

I stood, frozen in the doorway. "What?"

"Gramps said you needed to be fucked really good, and he was too old to do a proper job of it." He gestured for me to come inside impatiently.

"He did good." I said, not sure why I was defending Mr. Hartman, not sure why I was still standing there and not running back to my apartment and away from this cruel young man.

He laughed and reached out a hand to slowly caress my cheek. I shivered at the touch and my stomach tingled with fear and arousal. He moved his hand slowly behind my neck and threw me roughly inside the apartment.

I stumbled inside and fell to my knees.

"You get one chance. You get up and leave this apartment right fucking now and raise that baby on your own, or you head on into the bedroom - I know you know where it is - and get naked and ready to be fucked. Do that and we'll have ourselves a nice little fucked up family, witch bitch. You have thirty seconds to decide before I throw you out, cunt."

Every rational cell in my body was telling me to leave now. Run and never look back!

Every irrational, depraved, craven, part of me was telling me to stay. Take the passion and the fucking that was on offer. Take the Slenderman's dark gift. Embrace my need to be used and abused.

I stood up slowly and looked into the icy blue eyes of Mr. Hartman's grandson. They were cruel, angry, eyes. The eyes of a man who hates more than he loves. The eyes of a man who didn't give a shit what anyone thought.

Outside was the life I'd built. Independence, and a dark desire so strong it had summoned a demon. Inside was the life I'd desired and feared. Servitude, cruelty, and uncertainty.

I made my choice.