What You Did by Anonymous

That clear, strained clinking of steel links under the duress of tension.
The creaking of leather bindings stretching to accommodate this new and furious pressure.
The sound of her calm, focused breaths at regular intervals, inches from my face.
My eyes open, crawling up from her midsection, to her intently staring eyes.
I feel my shoulder click when I go to take a particularly big breath.
Something had to give into the tension.
I felt suspended.
My arms held way above my head by her fist, the chairs of my wrist cuffs coiled about her fist which seemed rooted into the wall.

"What did you do!?"

She almost yelled into my face.
It took every ounce of self control not to even glance away.
I cold feel the heat of her words scotch my cheeks as they passed on the breeze.
She looked furious.
Hungry.
Before I could even speak, she growled, and grasped something at her hip.
I heard the *Click* *Sliiiiiiiiide*
My whole body tried to gasp in sudden fear.
The glint out of the corner of my eye.
That flash of reflected light piercing my soul as it could so easily do to my flesh.
She stroked the back of this blade across my stomach, touching cold steel to hot skin.
Tracing the reverse edge of the tip up past my diaphragm to the base of my ribs.
Then I felt it, that razor sharp tip faintly sting my body with just a feather's touch.
Frozen in fear, I barely even breath.

"Tell me what you did, pet...."

This time more melodic, calm, seductive...
Deviant.
Her tone of voice shifting now that I can't even move a muscle.
Even her eyes were softer.
Well, softened from the pure embodiment of raging fury, to the unquenchable hunger of a stalking tiger.
My lips quivered in stubborn refusal to form anything that could be described as intelligible language.
My brain a maelstrom of emotion, all permeated with that over arching shadow of fear.
The blade twisted so the edge was upward, and upwards it rose.
She lifted her hand carefully, drawing a white line in my skin from the little red bead she'd made before.
Far enough to stretch the fabric of my shirt taught over it's edge.

"I.. Without permission... I came, without permission... Mi-"

Cut off by my hands being pulled a little ways towards her, and slammed back into the wall.
Her eyes lit up with that roaring fire once more, glinting with such sweet deviance.
She knew already, of course she did.
But this was all part of her fun.
Her teeth clenched and muscles taught.
Her knee slammed to the wall between my thighs, Lifted to squeeze between my legs, and force mine apart.
She drew herself along side me, cheek to cheek.
She wanted me to feel her displeasure.

"You stole from me..."

I couldn't argue.
Not even for a second.
Not a breath.

"And what are you going to do to pay for what you stole, Slut."

That last word spat out like a bitter taste.
Lashed against my inner ear like a whip.
Scored into my waking mind with the same unbridled passion she used when marking my skin.
I cringed and faltered.
I stayed silent.
I listened to the tear of fabric strands, giving way to the resumed advance of unrelenting steel.
I was made intimately aware of the temperature of the air.
The proximity of her body.
My goosebumps greeted the light.
Her teeth greeted my neck, and I whimpered.
My shirt fell open and she removed the blade from against my body.
*Slam*
The blade being seated into the wall, trapping the chains of my restraints far above my head.
And that tell tale chuckle.
You know the one.
It translates to "You're so fucked right now."

"I think I'll make you work it off, but first...."

She slapped me firmly across the face.
It was sudden, so much so that I didn't even see her body position for it.
Returning from my daze of surprise I felt her tear my jeans open and grab her possession.
The other hand took a grip about my throat.
pressed right up above my collar and my voice box, sinking into the softness.
The vital-ness.
Tighter.
Tighter still.
getting comfortable at the point where my face flushed red and only soft slow wheezing breaths can be taken.
She ran her tongue across the top of my cheek, collecting the small tear that she'd milked from my eye.
A droplet of desperation.
Fear.
She stroked and manipulated my still frustrated body.
Scratching it with her nails.
Gripping it so tight I could squeak and beg.
Well, if I had any air.

"I'm going to enjoy making you apologise, for what you did."