Raison D'êtra

"If I can hurt you, I can love you."

The words that brought forth an age of hope upon Pochard and his inadequacies; sins even. He always privately scoffed at the idea of being a submissive partner, until now. Now, he feels as if he needs to. To atone for his grotesque perversions, and be punished to feel his wrongdoings fade away amidst her sadism.

Pochard's apparent troubles seem to be washed away by the tide of her words. His gaze seemed awfully relieved as he spoke, "Thank you... Just do whatever you want with me." His lips quivered in excitement, awe, and fear. A simultaneous concoction of this uneartly and clandestine feeling. It could be due to the fact that he didn't even know her name, or how she was visibly middle-aged and he was only 20-yet her skin still felt silky, just slightly aged-or the fact that he had never been in such a position like this before, nor ever dreamt of it.

His wrists were tied together with a piece of white cloth, that also connected to the frame of the bed. Her handwork was so meticulous, her aura and general mannerism came off as inhuman, like some demoness.

The nameless woman moved onto his feet, where either of his ankles were tethered to the wooden pillar that potruded off of the corner of the frame. The woman finally admitted alluringly in a hushed tone, "You're definitely the youngest one I've snatched." She dipped her hand into a suitcase, one that seemed too exquisite to be owned by anyone-let alone used. Her hand emerged with a sheathed knife of some sort. Immediately, that fearful feeling earlier started to feel genuine and harsh.

He suddenly felt reluctant now, and thought intensely about giving up this atonement, but he knew he'd just end up hating himself even more. In spite of this fear and uncertainty, he noticed something odd that came from within him. As she traced the unsheathed dagger across his skin, he felt his belt buckle and his crotch create a bulging outline.

"You seem excited, dear."