Clean it up
Content warning: nsfw, sexual content, violence, the usual good time.
It's a video of a woman pinned against a bedroom door, a glass toy inserted in her ass and her crotch stuffed up against the doorknob. She has both hands behind her back and is gripping a belt that is around her throat. He holds her by the hair and manipulates the glass toy so she is getting off on the door handle.
Then there is a photo of the same woman folded in half on the couch, the belt dangling and her hands supporting her weight, she looks like she is afraid and her back and sides are dripping with his cum.
A photo of his face with drippy mascara on his stubble cheek, his eyes staring dead into the camera.
The next photo is of a black bag spread out on a pool table, an outline like a woman has been laying there surrounded by drops of his fluids, the edge stained by her droppings.
A photoset of a girl whose face has been blurred, she's younger with strawberry blond hair. Her body is stuck to a bed with fake blood, crusted semen and bruises. Another photo of the same girl with a black garbage bag stretched over her head, also blurred. Strands of white ejaculate caught in mid air, on their way to her covered face.
A photo of the long blade of a knife coming out of a woman's vagina, the handle buried all the way inside. Drops of fake blood and dried wax on her thighs and lower stomach, pooled in her bellybutton.
Chelsea swiped through these photos in an album called Special, when she reached the end she would swipe back. She caught herself salivating and put the phone away. She had backed herself into the corner at the cafe to work on some stuff for school, a small fortress around her laptop, a book in her lap.
The door came open and the place got quiet, she could hear the piano theme song for an old sixties cartoon. Everyone was looking at Cinda. She glanced around the room like she was afraid someone would be waiting for her, then put her head down and walked with long strides to the back and went into the employee area. Her face was bruised, a small bandage on one eyebrow. Her cheek looked like it was a bit misshapen. And, she limped and clutched at her arm which was in a sling.
What the fuck happened to her, girl next to Chelsea asked the table.
The students gathered around were all hunched over, cell phone posture. But were working with spiral bound notebooks and a single laptop as the source of their study.
Car accident
Sacked by a linebacker
Base jump gone wrong
They shopped explanations around the table until Cinda emerged and they went back to what they were doing, looking conspicuous. Chelsea looked at the rest of the crowd and the noise level started to pick back up, like everyone was reacting the same way.
Why doesn't someone just ask?
Shut up
•
Chelsea finished her study and checked the time on the front of her phone.
Mark texted, well
She tapped and replied, you have my attention
Figures
When
How about now
Yes please
Where
She texted the address.
She watched Cinda making drinks, Devin handed her a headset and she winced while she adjusted it and then she started taking orders. She sounded like she had a slight lisp, maybe she was missing some teeth, a kid next to her remarked.
Shut up
Chelsea looked at her phone, nothing.
She started packing her things feeling a little down that she was ghosted.
As soon as she reached the front door her phone buzzed, outside now.
She opened the door and a vehicle was there at the curb, the passenger window down. She looked in and it was Mark.
Get in.
She pulled the door open and tried to hand him her backpack, he diverted it to the back seat and she put it on the floor.
Then they were driving.
Want to listen to music or talk?
Talk.
He grinned and hit the gas at the light.
When it is ready set it free
How would you like it
She licked her lips.
I can play music
No
She sounded hurried, she was breathing hard. At the next light he looked at her, she was staring at him and gripping her phone. He saw one of the photos he sent on the screen.
That
She smirked and looked straight at him, force collecting in her eyes.
The light changed, went from red to green in her eyes.
That works
•
They arrived at an apartment complex. He got out and walked ahead of her. She retrieved her book bag and stood looking up at the trees. It was a dark and well shaded place, she could hear the highway nearby. She hurried to catch up.
She climbed a set of concrete stairs with iron handrails, remnants of seventies construction, the black paint stained the palm of her hand.
He waited at the front door and unlocked it when he saw her and went inside.
She approached the open door and it was much darker inside than the area outside. There were no street lamps and it was night.
She stepped inside, the carpet was very shaggy and thick, she turned to look for him and a plastic bag fell over her face, constricting at the base. She dropped her book bag and grasped at it but he pulled her body inside the door, she heard him kick it shut over the sound of the bag and her breath rushing through, pressure on her ears, she had to keep her eyes pressed shut because he was twisting behind her head, pulling her hair and making the bag tighter on her face. She felt it against her teeth, thought she could bite through it but she exhaled and lost so much breath.
She hit the couch sideways and gasped, something metal dug into her side. She felt a thin piece of metal enter her mouth and air rush in. She closed her mouth on it and it was metallic, tasted like blood.
Hold it
She shook her head, energy coming back since she could breathe again.
Don't fucking move
She kept her mouth closed on the iron rod.
Good girl
•
Her body was halfway on the couch, still holding the metal rod in her mouth. Her hands bound with paracord. He had just taken her pants down and was beginning to caress her when he inserted a finger in her ass. She tried to say stop but he interrupted, you fucking pig. Don't fucking move.
He sounded angry, disgusted. She still had the bag on her face.
He grabbed the bag by the knot in the back and it cut off her air, he pulled her up straight and she hit couch hard, it felt like rug burn on her hips.
Don't fucking move, he let go and she could breathe again, keep that head up there.
She felt the metal rod slide a bit further into her mouth and shifted her tongue to prevent it. She could feel it now, it was a screwdriver.
She couldn't tell where he was in the room because of the long carpet but she had a general idea that she was alone. She squirmed her legs a bit so she was able to use the couch to slouch forward but not far enough she had to use her elbows to support herself.
He returned and set a bucket next to her, she could feel the plastic on her leg. He rubbed petroleum jelly on her anus and just inside then slid a long thin probe inside her. He moved very slowly and carefully and she could feel his fist at the end. She sighed and he squeezed, it was slow and gentle and she could feel liquid filling her ass.
She tried to speak around the screwdriver.
Shut up
He left the room again and returned three more times, slowly pumping warm water into her.
•
He pulled her up by the plastic bag, she gripped his arm and used it to steady herself, he slid the bucket under her and sat her down.
When it's ready set it free
Her way of saying goodbye
She woke up and she could tell it was the afternoon because of the light pouring in from the hall. She could still taste him in her mouth and it made her smile. She was laying flat on her stomach with her hands under the pillow, head facing the hallway. She looked the other way and he was there, unconscious, his back to her and it was covered in scratches, not all of them hers. She admired his body for a moment and looked at it curiously. Then, she moved her legs and felt the pain in her ass and thought about the night before. She looked down and saw the bite marks on her lower body, felt the bruises and welts raised on her ass and the sides of her legs, her lower back. She winced as she moved to be closer to him.
The sheets were extremely clean and smelled strongly of detergent. She got close to him and his hair was wet like he had showered recently. She wondered if he had somehow cleaned her while she was unconscious because other than his taste and the lacerations, her skin felt smooth and clean.
She gently put an arm around him and wriggled her way close to him then fell asleep.
He took her to a restaurant, your choice.
She picked a diner that was always open because she didn't know what time it was when he asked.
It was dark out and he brought her clothes in, folded and laundered. Her ass still hurt and it was tough to get her clothes on her lower body. He didn't stick around for it.
When she was ready she wobbled down the hallway, Mark
Yeah, coming.
He appeared from a dining room area and was moving with purpose. He wore a black thermal shirt and black jeans, a tight looking belt with wire tape on the buckle to quiet it. He had on black combat boots and his hands had red score marks.
Lets go, he motioned her toward the door.
In the front room she saw cast off remnants of the garbage bag, the bucket had been cleaned out, a sponge still sitting inside along with the screwdriver and a metal object that looked like a meat hook on one end and a large silver ball on the other. She clenched her ass and felt a shot of pain thinking about how he used it to guide her around and perform for him.
Memories, he pulled open the door and a flood of warm air hit her.
He leaned down and picked up her bag and thrust it in her arms. She wasn't ready for its weight, or how her jeans would irritate her legs and ass when she was walking down the stairs carrying it.
•
They sat at the table and the waitress came by. She and Mark seemed to know eachother.
Hello and welcome. Have you decided?
Hashbrowns
Orange juice and the veggie omelette
He smirked and winked at her.
She looked at the waitress who seemed concerned. She looked at Chelsea's hands and lacerations then collected the menus from the table. Mark didn't move to help her. The waitress made eye contact with him and froze. He looked back long enough to be sure she wasn't able to break away then shot her a satisfied smile and glanced over to Chelsea who was staring off and shaking her leg nervously.
Are we doing this again
What
He leaned back and pulled his legs in under the table.
What do you think
She put both hands on the table, palms down.
Oh here we go
What
He smirked, say what again
Sorry, it's been an intense night
Morning
Whatever
The waitress returned with the orange juice and a coffee.
She's fine
I know
The waitress set both down hard and then turned around and walked briskly away.
Chelsea pulled the ends of her hair, her curls straightening and then bouncing back when she let go. She seemed to realize her makeup was messed up and went into her backpack.
Your phone is on the table
I want my compact
Oh
And I'm not sure I like this
But you do
She came back up to the table with her compact and a fist full of make-up.
No, Mark. I don't think I do.
Fine
She began touching up her makeup and he crossed his leg under the table, it brushed the pole in the center and she didn't seem to notice the sound it made.
•
After the receipt was collected he remained seated and watched as she stood and walked outside and got in a blue Hyundai Sonata.