DoI know that?I’m in a total panic because I assume he’s going to hurt me.
“You have my promise.That doesn’t mean I won’t discipline you when you need me to.You enjoyed that little swat to your thigh in the pantry the night we met.”He chuckles.“I suppose it’s possible you might decide youlikebeing disciplined, and then you’ll break the rules intentionally.I’ve heard that’s common in masochists.But you probably don’t know yet what you do and don’t like, do you?We’ll find out together.”
My chest is rising and falling with every breath.I don’t respond because I don’t know if there was a question in there.
“You’re lacking in discipline, princess.Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, Sir.”It seems like the right answer.
His finger is driving me crazy, trailing around my cheek and neck.Those are the only parts of me that are exposed, and my pulse is picking up from the contact.No one has ever touched me like he is—except ten days ago.
That has to be the reason why I like it.There’s no other explanation.Why would I enjoy a stranger’s touch?A stranger who has blindfolded me and is holding me hostage in my own bed?It has to be because I’ve been deprived of any sexual experience like this.
That night he pranked me is never far from my mind.I think about him all the time, to the point that I’m worried about my sanity.It’s like I’ve missed him.His touch.His soft voice.The way he held me.His filthy words.
I think part of the reason I’ve never mentioned the encounter to a soul is because I’m embarrassed to admit I was equal parts freaked the fuck out and invigorated.I feltalive.It was fucked up, but at the same time, I’ve never felt more in touch with this planet and my body.I don’t even know if that makes any sense.
I go through the motions of life.I’ve done so for eighteen years.I do all the things I’m supposed to do.My counselors have always been impressed with how stable I seem for someone who grew up in foster care.Someone who lived with several different families over the years.
Am I really stable, though?Or do I just fake it well?I’ve always thought it was the latter.Therapists have told me I’m an old soul.I’m not sure what that means.Something about being mature and able to cope with the world better than the average person my age.
Whatever.No matter what anyone has ever said to me, I’ve never actually felt fully alive.Until that night.Until this mysterious man yanked me into a pantry and held me hostage.
I don’t have a therapist right now.I could get one through the school, but what would I tell them?Yeah, I was a victim of one of the freshman pranks.Have you heard that lore?It’s true.
Something about my mystery man feels like he belongs to me.I don’t want to share him.I don’t want anyone to tell me what I felt that night was wrong.There is no right or wrong.I’m entitled to my feelings.
And he’s here now.Again.I’m scared.Again.But also, my heart is beating as if it hasn’t done so since the last time he touched me.
“Do you have parents, princess?”
That’s the oddest question of them all.He says such strange things.
He continues, “I don’t see any photographic evidence of a family in your room.Your roommates have pictures on their desks and walls.Pictures of moms and dads and siblings.”
My breath hitches.“Please don’t hurt them.”Fear consumes me.They might not react as calmly as I am if he tries to prank them.What if they screamed and he had to silence them?
Plus… He’smymystery man.Not theirs.
He flinches.“Hurt who?Your roommates?”
“Yes.Yes, Sir.”
“I have no interest in the other girls living in this house or any other girlsanywhere, princess.All my focus is on you.”
Panting, I nod.“Thank you, Sir.”Why does that give me so much relief?I can tell myself it’s because I’m worried he might hurt someone else.But really, it’s mostly because the thought of him touchinganyonethe way he’s touching me makes my skin crawl.
I’m fucked in the head.
“You didn’t answer my question.If I have to repeat myself, there will be consequences.”
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes.I’m not sure what specifically is causing them.I don’t think it’s because I’m scared.For some strange reason, my fear is ebbing.I don’t think he’s going to hurt me.If he intended to, he could have done it by now.Though he has insinuated that he will punish me if I disobey him.I’m not sure what that might entail, but the thought makes my chest tighten in a way I can’t explain.
That night, he swatted my thigh.He threatened to spank me.I’ve thought about that a thousand times.What would it be like for him to take me over his knees and spank my butt?
Some obviously fucked-up part of me finds the idea soothing.When parents spank their kids, it’s because they love them and want to protect them.Right?There’s something about the idea that makes me feel cherished.
I’mdefinitelyfucked up.