Buzzkill(er)

You could hear her screaming, the sound carrying all the way up and out to the surroundings.

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!"
I yell back at her. Her constant screaming had turned out to become a constant reminder that I needed to get on her good side, something I hadn't figured out how to do just yet.

"You wont ever make it out here if you keep fucking screaming!" I walked closer to her, I got a knife in my hand. Ready to continue her torture, but only if she kept making unnecessary noises (like her screams).
I walk even closer to her, and take my free hand on her cheek. With a completely different tone I tell her, I make my voice as sweet as I can behind a barrier or pure aggression.
"You're too fucking good for that. You're too fucking pure to make such a hassle." I look straight into her teary eyes.
"You know I love you right? I'm not doing this to hurt you. I'm doing this to discipline you."
She looks at me with a confused and somewhat shocked look.
"W-w-what..?" She sob and blink at me. Finally she's not screaming.

"You need discipline. You obviously don't listen to me. And I want you to listen to me.. That's all that I want from you Clem.." I look at her green eyes, they look tired, sad, and shocked. I sort of get her, but also I can't feel it.
I know how I'm supposed to feel about it. And I know I have felt it before.
I'm supposed to feel a wave of empathy, and turn myself into the police. But I mean, what's the fun in that?

The reason I'm being this mean to her this time is not just for fun, I got a proper reason.
I had tried to let her roam the basement for a while, cos she had been complaining about pains in her lower back after being tied to a chair practically all day.
Mind you, this was only a couple of days after I stopped wearing my mask. I was letting her do this out of the little kindness still left in my heart (yes, I am at that stage where I talk about my "kindness" as if I'm a 14 year old goth kid looking for attention).

She had been acting okay, she had even talked with me. It had all been very nice, and I thought that maybe, perhaps, she maybe had started forming a bond with me. Some sort of trust, so to speak.
I couldn't be more wrong it seemed. After being here for a little while she thought she had figured out when and where I leave, and where I put my keys.
When it was time for her second bathroom break we started as usual. I grab her arm, then follow her to the bathroom, which is located up a small flight of stairs right outside the "official" basement.
This was not the same flight of stairs that lead out of the cellar. They end up with a door which will take you to my bedroom (or what used to be the former owners bedroom/sex bunker, but she was taken care of now).
I let her into the bathroom then stood outside the door waiting for her to be done. She knew she had a restricted time in there, so she had hurried to try to find something she could hit me with.
She ended up with an old toilet brush.
She flushed the empty toilet.
Her time had come, her time to try to escape this hell she had been put in.
She barged out of the door, then hit me as hard as she could in the stomach with the toilet brush.
This attack had shocked me, so I fell a bit backwards into the stairs going down to the basement. I kept my balance, but before I could dash after her, she was already halfway up the stairs.
She had gotten to the bedroom, not outside where she thought she was going to end up.
I knew she wouldn't get far once she was in the bedroom, but I also knew she would be able to find something else to strike me out with. Something that might actually hurt me.

I walked up to the bedroom, and saw her immediately. She was standing pressed up against a wall, pointing the toilet brush at me like it was some sort of gun.
How cute, I thought to myself as I walked further into the room. Just like when her beloved roommate had thought a cane was the perfect murder weapon. I closed the door behind me.

"I should tie you up. You'd like that wouldn't you?" Im close to her now. For some reason, when I had walked closer to her, it seemed as if I was draining her energy, and she ended up letting the toilet brush go.

So here we were, she was tied down to my bed, heaving and sobbing.
I should probably gag her.
But her screams are so nice, yet so completely heart shattering (not to say ear shattering) and annoying to hear.

She's looking back into my eyes. I'm not sure if she's planning something again, or if she's just re-evaluating her situation.

"Do you love me?" Her words are barley escaping her mouth.

I nod.

She looks at me in what seems like complete disbelief.

"If you love me, let me go."
I look at her. Rage is filling me again. How can she be that selfish? How can she think I would sacrifice loosing something so pure and beautiful as her?

"Now why would I do that?" My voice slither out of my mouth with a coat of poison that would probably make a grown man shit himself. This voice felt strained from my body, it wasn't mine.

"If you let me go now, I won't tell anyone." Her voice is a slight whisper, she's about to cry again. I can sense it.

"What's the fun in that?" The voice returns.
The voice of a demon it seemed. The voice of his dark side, the creature in the mirror.

She looks at me again. Yet again, a look filled with confusion and sadness.

She was feeling off.
There was something deep inside of her that was glad she had ended up in this bedroom and not gotten away from it all. Something that told her to obey him, and love him. There was a force stronger than what she had ever felt before, a force that had only gotten stronger the moment he said "I love you."
A feeling deep inside her that grew bigger and bigger already. It filled her with a tingle, all the way from her feet to her head. The harder he tightened the ropes, the deeper he cut her, the darker and more angry his voice got; It filled her up, it fueled her. This was what were keeping her alive.
A poisonous lust that would result in her downfall, a lust that frightened her. It was something she had to resist as long as she could.
She had only found one way to keep it away, and that was her screaming.

So she screamed again. Out of nowhere. Just screamed, the most gut-wrenching scream she could possibly produce at the moment. It felt as if her vocal chords were breaking, and her eyes filled with water.

I took a step away from her. This sound she was making, the sound of complete and utter despair. It was the combined sound of years of misfortune, and weeks of torture. I didn't react the way I thought I would. I didn't react at all. Just stood there, watching her as she was exhausting herself.

The screaming eventually faded. Her vocal chords must hurt by now. I look at her. Just that. She's crying.

"Are you done now?" I ask her quietly, the anger in my voice seemed to be hiding under a thick layer of fake empathy.
She nod. Her breathing is slowing down slightly, as she's getting over the rush of adrenaline that comes with screaming like that.

I walk over and sit down on the bed. Her body is perfectly stretched out on the bed, and yet theres still room for me.
I look at her body, her legs and arms are spread, her night gown damp from sweat and hugging her body perfectly. She looked like one of those girls you see whenever BDSM is depicted in magazines.
She has shivering, but just barley. There was something about the way she was laid on my bed, something lustful and erotic about it all. I mean, of course it was, she was tired up on a bed wearing a revealing night gown, what else could be more pornographic than this?

"You're beautiful you know that?" my voice has changed once again, this time it came out with a dull tone, and slight growl to it. What a way to sound.
As soon as the words had escaped my mouth she moved her legs, she tried to lift her knees up, or close the forced gap between them.

I raise an eyebrow at her, oh really? This was not the reacting I was expecting. "You're a piece of fucking art work." I mumble as I mount the bed. I crawl closer to her, pressing my body up against hers.

I look into her eyes, the look I get back is electric, a perfect mix between lust and fright. She's keeping her mouth shut. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest. It's rapid.
I keep eye contact as I move my left hand to her upper thigh. My fingers touch her damp, warm skin, causing her to gasp.

My own heartbeat is building, I know I should have expected that reaction, but yet, I'm filled with a foreign excitement. This was a whole different thing than when we had been together before. That time had been about establishing a relationship to her, but also to find her dorm room.

My hand travel to the inside of her thigh. Another gasp. New Excitement.

Notes

lol. i suck at writing anything that might resemble smut. also I have a feeling that this chapter is really choppy and weird? but oh well. Thought i would just leave it at almost smut.