Tuesday

And the whole time he relentlessly thrusts into you.

'I can't... you have to... finish...'

'It's fine baby! It's fi... ngh...gah!' You squeal as he adjusts the angle of his hips and starts sawing his manhood across your most sensitive flesh.

The battle is over. You've lost. You clutch the man you love to you as you ride an intense, powerful orgasm. Even after you loudly squeal and spasm and pull him to you, your husband keeps gently thrusting inside you for a few minutes, dragging what was a savagely intense orgasm into one long, absurdly pleasurable climax.

Your husband cuddles with you for a few minutes. He really does adore you and you both enjoy these little intimate moments. You've learned to cherish them since you started your family.

Yet the moment he slides back over onto his side of the bed and then tucks himself back into his bed, you begin to panic.

You came. You came hard.

Despite Padraic's order not to.

Oh... you're going to pay for that Ari, you think to yourself as you lay there in bed. Not only did you break the rules, but you broke them scarcely an hour after you left his bar.

'Break them at your peril.' He said.

You're boned.

Your dreams are ugly, terrifying things. Deformed beasts and creatures chase you and corner you and then brutal pig like men drag you to a stone table and pin you down.

Your clothes are torn away as they chain you in place. Then another, darker form approaches carrying a tray of instruments. You can't make them out, but they seem sharp, cruel and sadistic.

The dark form sets the tray on a nearby shelf and takes one off the tray. It looks like someone combined an insect with a spool of barbed wire. He approaches you as you struggle in futility against the chains holding you in place.

'The rules have been broken...' It hisses at you.

You sit bolt upright with a shriek. Your heart pounds in your chest. You pull the sheet to you in the semi darkness and tremble.

You know exactly what scared you. You broke the rules. You really, really tried but you failed.

On cue, your husband slides his hand down your back. You jump again and he tries to soothe you with his voice.

'Sweetie! It's me! Shhhh. I got you.'

And he wraps his arms around you so that he can comfort you. You let him, because right now your dream has placed you in a state of raw fear and the adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream is making you shiver.

He's warm. He's like a smooth muscular furnace and his arms wrap around your tiny frame like a warm blanket.

You realize the dream has made you uncomfortably wet. You shift uneasily. It would be perfect to slide on top of him and grind away your fear, but if you broke the rules twice Padraic would...

What? What will he do when he finds out?

You're not sure you want to find out. That was the most intense, terrifying, abusive, punishing sex you've ever had. And that was when he was just getting to know you. What will he do now that you've already violated his rules?

Maybe you should just not go back.

You think about that for a minute. Do you want to go back? Padraic seems borderline insane to you. He just seems evil and sadistic to the core.

That's it then. You're not going back. It was a mistake.

You throw your arms around your husbands neck and kiss him hard. It surprises him a little but he begins to kiss you back passionately and before you both know it he's hard and deep inside you.

This time you don't fight it and you encourage him to plunge deeper and faster. He gleefully does your bidding and in moments you're restraining your voice as he takes you again and again to climax so that you don't wake up the rest of your tiny family. Your man humps away on your petite little frame eagerly until you feel the warmth of his release inside you and then he wraps you up in a big hug and kisses you on the face and neck.

'I love you baby.' He whispers in your ear.

You press your lips to his face and tell him the same thing, you just don't use words.

Morning comes swiftly, and you feel wonderful. You feel relieved that you won't be going back to that bar or to see Padraic again.

You celebrate by cozying up to the hubby and enjoy a morning quickie with him. He's delighted to see you this amorous this early in the morning and you take great pleasure in crawling on top of your man. You couple quickly and vigorously and he enjoys watching you moan and writhe on top of him.

You deliberately ignore don't think of Padraic or the rules. Whenever you start to remember what happened at that dingy, ugly little bar you block it out. At one point as the memories start to come flooding back you deliberately lock the bathroom door and pleasure yourself relentlessly until you climax twice.

You delight in your freedom. Your husband enjoys your newfound aggression in bed too.

It lasts for more than a couple of days. You deliberately refuse to think about what you were ordered to do and what the rules are. You're not going back. Screw that guy!

But on Saturday night, the dream comes back.

It isn't the monsters this time. It's the tiny, dirty bathroom. He's behind you, hurting you. He makes you spread wide. He doesn't take no for an answer. His hands are on you and in you. He humiliates you, violates you and fills you with shame.

He makes you submit.

He makes the hunger and the ache stop.

You sit bolt upright in bed. The sheets are damp with your sweat. Your hand has pulled up the little lace nightie you wore to bed and your fingers are touching that most sensitive part of you.

You're incredibly aroused. You look around in the darkness and are greeted only by the prone form of your husband as he gently snores.

'Just a dream.' You mutter to yourself.

Sleep eludes you the rest of the night.

The following days are no better. The memories come flooding back. You remember it all with crystal clarity. The sex and the violence and the shame keep replaying in your head and you relive those moments.

And the horrifying thing about these memories is that they... aren't horrifying.

You think about how Padraic used you in that dingy bathroom. How he took control from you without mercy and how he used you like a common whore. You remember what it felt like to have him inside you.

He was merciless with you.

The tipping point comes on Sunday morning. You're still wrapped in a haze when you tumble out of bed and wander into the shower. The water begins to spray down and you step naked into the pounding deluge. High pressure droplets of water smash into your shoulders and you run your hands through your long hair and luxuriate in the water.

You remember what it felt like when he gripped your hair. How he used your mouth. You remember how scared you were when he taped your mouth shut and pinched your nostrils closed. You felt so dizzy, so scared. You were completely at his mercy, utterly out of control and you had never been that aroused in your life.

Abruptly you realize that your fingers are between your legs again.

'Dammit!' You shriek and slap your hands on the wall of the shower.

You're not going back! You're not! Fuck him!

You stay angry with yourself and slam off the water. The curtain jerks back and you yank the towel off the hook and angrily start to blot the water off your skin. You stay angry with yourself until you stat vigorously drying your tangled mass of hair and you glance over into the mirror.

You don't look angry.

You look hungry.

'I'm not going back.' The words seem less certain now.

The girl in the mirror stares back at you. She clutches the towel to her chest. You don't feel confident or cocky any more. You feel the need again.

You drop the towel and plunk down on the toilet. Your long, dark hair hangs over your face and eyes and you sit naked in the bathroom and try to think of a way out of this.

You can't come up with anything, because you keep finding yourself in a different bathroom. You're on your knees, at his feet. You debase yourself in the most disgusting way possible.

It should nauseate you.

It does something else entirely.

Tuesday night comes and you tell the husband that you're headed off to the gym. He gives you a big hug and asks you to pedal a few miles for him too. He's warm and gentle and he loves you.

He's also not what you are aching for. You tell him you might catch a late movie with a friend after working out and he just nods and tells you to call if you're going to be late.

You walk out to the car. You're unnerved at how easy it is for you to lie to him and it gnaws at you.

The gym is quiet at this time of the day, and you can pick a bike near the back of the gym and try to pedal away your anxiety.

It doesn't work. All you can think about is how many rules you've broken and whether it will be better to just confess to him or to try and hide it.

You've lost count of your orgasms. You masturbated a couple of times, once specifically to deny him. You pushed your husband away a couple of times when he wanted sex.

In short, you've defied him on every direction he gave you.

The chain hisses on the bike as you pick up your pace. An older gentleman a couple of rows down looks over and watches you as you wrack the gears on the stationary bike.

You breath is starting to come in wheezes now. Your nervous tension is getting the better of you.

You look over at the clock. The minute hand ticks a little past nine forty two.

You think for a moment about peddling the whole night. That could work. You could ride desperately until you become dehydrated and confused and pass out. And then you'd have no dreams to worry about.

You'd have no dreams, except for the ones that you have every night. And the ones that now creep into your daydreams.

His hand grips your hair and he forces you to your knees. The chains around your wrists hold you tight and as you look up at him in terror he smiles a cruel smile at you.

Like the one you're having now.

You stop peddling. You can't run away from this. You can't ignore it. You found what you were looking for. You found what you've been aching for. He filled the hole that was inside you. He quieted the dreams and locked away the shadows.

And he owned you. There was no doubt. Any attempt to resist him he crushed instantly with cruel words and pain and sheer force of will.

The bike wheel spins slower, the hum of the chain getting quieter as the momentum bleeds off the machine.

You step off the bike and stumble. You've pushed yourself so hard that you're borderline exhausted. A quick glance at the clock tells you that you've only got about an hour to get ready and drive to the Darkside. You stop for a quick drink at a fountain in your only concession to the gruelling workout you just subjected yourself to and then stagger into the change room to get out of your damp and sweaty workout clothes.

You take a quick shower, or at least it was supposed to be a quick shower and then turns into a fifteen minute deluge as you try to organize your now scattering thoughts and make a plan for dealing with all the rules you've broken.

You dry off quickly and then grab your bag and then you realize with horror that the leather satchel that he gave you with all the toys is still there and you have not done one ounce of preparation for this evening.

'You don't have to use any of them.' He says with a shrug. 'But next week I am going to strap you down over something and fuck you in your asshole. And you are going to lick me clean when I finish. So it's up to you as to how painful and disgusting that will be.'

'Oh god. Oh god.' You frantically paw through the bag and look desperately for what you know will be there. It has to be there. You have no doubt that he'll make good on THAT promise.

After a few terrified moments of scuffling through the bag, you find the kits that he put in there for you. It makes for an odd moment in the toilet later as you violate yourself twice to ensure that someone can sodomize you with comfort.

But these things take time, and as you look up at the clock, you realize that you're running out of it. You hastily get dressed and slip your bag over your shoulder and nearly sprint out the door to your car.

You roar out of the parking lot and move as fast as you can to the place you desperately want to be at but are terrified to arrive. Naturally, you seem to catch every red light and slow driver in the universe as you try to travel eight blocks.

Finally, you turn down the dingy little side street and pull up next to the Darkside.

You slam the car into park and dart out the door, clicking the car locks as you go.

The door pops open easily for you and you nearly sprint inside. You look around quickly for Padraic and you spot him over in his corner. His feet are up on a stool, and he's relaxed and watching the television. A half empty glass of dark beer sits on the table next to him.

'I'm here.' You say quietly.

'You are. Indeed.' He says without looking at you. Then he holds up a gold, antique pocketwatch and looks at the face.

'And you are three minutes late.' He says calmly with a chilling finality.

'I'm not... I'm...' You stammer. Your stomach twists. He hasn't even raised his voice or looked at you or left his chair but his cool tone cuts through you like a knife.

He turns his head and looks at you and your mouth closes. Your hands tremble as he stares at you and... judges.

He slowly raises his hand and points towards the back room.

'Go. I'll deal with you in a minute.' He says with a calm finality that chills your bones. And then he uncoils himself from his chair slowly and stands up. He seems taller and thinner and harsher looking than you remember, but he's still wearing jeans and comfortable running shoes and a neat black dress shirt.

You turn and trudge towards your fate in the back room. You're not certain if you should feel terrified or excited.

Padraic takes his time getting back to you. You hear him closing and locking the front door and then he shifts a couple of chairs back into place around the room.

You look around the dimly lit back room. He's moved some of the gear off to the side and there's a table and a pair of chairs in the center of the room. A simple metal box sits there, with a steel latch and an open padlock and nothing else.

You shuffle your feet quietly and look around, and you're startled as the door creaks open behind you. Padraic moves silently into the room. You look up at him and his pale gray eyes that are hidden away behind his spectacles and you feel almost mesmerized.

'Strip tiny girl. You've already wasted enough of my time.' He says calmly.

Your hands fumble with your clothing and you slide out of your shirt and bra quickly and place them on the table. The jeans slip off your slender legs a moment later and it isn't until you've sliding the black lacy panties off that your eyes widen and you realize that you never shaved off your pubic hair like he ordered you to.

You look down at yourself in horror and then look up at him.

He does not look amused. He spins his finger in a classic 'speed it up' gesture.

You whimper quietly to yourself and slide the flimsy garment down your legs and then place it on the table with the rest of your clothes.

Padraic watches you casually and then he moves to the table and opens the box. His hands produce a pair of odd looking shoes, almost like ballet slippers, a ball of netlike substance and a looped up length of rope.

After he produces the items, he calmly takes your clothing and purse and places it inside the box. The lid closes, the latch slips into place and then the lock clicks shut over the latch with finality.

It takes a moment to process that he just locked all your clothes, your cell phone and your purse into a metal box and you have not seen any key.

While you process that, Padraic eyes you.

'Three minutes late, and ungroomed as well. This is turning out to be a disappointing evening.' He says with an irritated tone.

You wince.

'Yes... yes I... I'm sorry. I just...'

'Just what?' He demands.

'I ran out of time. That's all. I'm sorry sir.' Your stomach tightens. You know this is not a good answer.

He places a hand on the table and his fingers drum on the metal top. His eyes narrow and he glares at you.

'Was I unclear last week?' He asks. Each word is snapped off like a bullet.

'No sir, you were clear.' Your voice cracks a little as you say it. It's clear that you made a mistake.

He glares at you then shoves the mesh and odd shoes towards you.

'Put them on whore. Don't think we're finished discussing this.' He manages to make a promised conversation sound like a threat.

You kneel down and pick up the mesh and unravel it. It's actually a pair of fishnet nylons. You're clearly not the first person to wear them as they smell of sex and sweat and fear and rough use has made them tattered. They slide up your thighs until the lacy tops grip the top of your thighs. You smooth them out and glance over at Padraic. He watches you quietly but with an air of menace.

You look down at the tattered fishnets and wonder how putting on a piece of clothing can make you feel even more naked.

You pick up the shoes next, and they confuse you. They resemble a pair of ballet slippers, but they're constructed of leather. A thin strip of wire connects to a locking metal bracelet on each 'shoe' and instead of a lace a thick electrical wire runs through the footwear. You slip on each shoe and slide the bracelet over each ankle. You pull the wire taut and the leather grips your foot tightly.

You look up at Padraic, unsure if you've put them on correctly. He nods and you exhale, happy to have at least satisfied him once. Your celebration is short lived however as he picks up the rope on the table and says 'Come here.'

You clamber back to your feet awkwardly. The shoes are surprisingly tight and the leather is slippery. You cautiously move towards him and watch as he twists the rope around itself to make a little loop and then feeds it back into a strand until he has a firm starting point.

'Give me your hand.' He commands and you immediately raise your left hand to him.

You wonder if he notices that your fingers are shaking.

If he does, he doesn't care. The loop slips over your wrist and he draws it tight and then loops the rope over your thin limb several times. He turns you around and pulls your right hand behind your back and you feel the rope bind your limbs together at the wrist.

He loops the rope again and again until he's satisfied and it's all you can do to wiggle your fingers. You think he's done binding your arms until you feel the rope slip around your elbows and then pull them together and cinch tight.

You cry a little complaint as he draws your elbows taut against each other and proceeds to bind them securely. Your shoulders start to ache almost immediately. And you whimper and fidget as he completes the punishing tie.

Then you feel him slip the rope around your neck, and as you feel him brush aside your hair to place the cord against your skin you start to panic a little.

'What are you doing?' You ask, fear pitching your voice high and scratchy.

'I'm binding you. What do you think I'm doing?'

'I don't know.' You whisper.

'Does that frighten you girl?'

'Yes. I'm pretty scared right now.' You squeak.

'Good.' Is all he says to you.

You start to tremble a little. This situation is so far out of your control it's terrifying. Your body responds the same way it always does when you feel like this. You feel your tummy tighten and you feel that hollow ache inside you that only one thing seems to fill. You grow slick and wet between your legs as your body demands you deal with this screaming need. You squirm as coil after coil of rope slips around your neck until he slips the end of the cord in among the coils and his nimble fingers lodge it securely.