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Everyone told me you were the devil in disguise, but not once did I consider it to be true. Not when I knew I was falling in love with you. Your presence was intoxicating, your charming smile married with a provocative tone in your voice. Once a tall, dark, handsome stranger watching me across the bar, sipping on a crystal-cut glass of whiskey. Back then I thought I was happy, dancing under the barely lit ceiling with a couple of the girls from work. It had been just our average Saturday girl's night on the town, a ritual we repeated once a month. I noticed your cold hazel eyes on me, staring deep inside my soul, beckoning me to your side. I was drawn in, unable to escape your gaze. My companions didn't seem to mind me leaving the pack behind, they continued to dance into the night to a rendition of Viva La Viva by Coldplay, with more bass to the beat, the remix was probably edited by the DJ himself. Not that it mattered to me, you were my primary focus, and I, your prey. Nothing else mattered to me.
Drunk from the atmosphere, rather than the pitcher of daiquiris I had necked earlier that evening at dinner, you glided towards me, wrapping a suited arm around my waist. Your acrid scent of expensive cologne overcame my senses, the lingering essence of orange citrus fruits and cardamom spices overwhelming my orifices. You were wearing a burgundy tailored suit, purchased from the infamous streets of Savile Row no doubt. Black buttons kissed the cuff of your jacket, with a raven-dyed lapel, it was clear you had dressed up for the occasion. I didn't think twice, back then, to ask why a hotshot accountant would be in such a common joint as Studio 338. But now I know you're were out on the prowl, looking for an unsuspecting victim. What a fool I was to reconsider my appearance that evening, feeling drab in a halter-neck shift dress and my favourite worn-out Louboutins. I was barely any make-up that evening, just a little foundation and a crimson staining my lips, that had faded since I first applied it.
You lead me over to your cushioned stool at the bar, without asking me my alcoholic beverage preference, you ordered me a flute of pink prosecco with the comment 'All women like this right?' I had accepted it with a half-intoxicated smile, but only to be polite, taking small sips whilst you began quizzing me on personal details. You told me you worked as an accountancy manager at the Metro bank in Southampton Row, and I admit I pretended to enjoy you discussing the stock market with me. You asked me about my occupation casually, as if just to be making conversation. We both read each other's minds, we were both consenting adults. You asked me to dance, leading me by the hand I couldn't help but indulge in your charming voice. We danced a little with you grinding our intimate parts together. I giggled, not paying attention to anyone around us. To me, we were all that mattered. You gazed at me with your beckoning hazel-dyed eyes, pulling me closer to you. In the background a new song had begun to play, while I cannot recall what it was called, the lyrics keep coming back to me.
'This love looks like a loaded gun...'
I barely paid much attention to what the rest of the night, it didn't matter to me once the morning came, when I found myself lying in bed, draped over you. The pair of us lying under the warm duvet, wearing nothing at all. Our skins beaded with droplets of sweat from our excursion last night. Once, maybe twice? You left me in your bed as you make yourself a hot beverage, bringing it back to bed with a second cup for me. I thought I would get used to this, thinking about how much of a gentleman you were. But I was wrong, wasn't I? You were the devil in disguise, really.
'Maybe I'm crazy, I know you're danger...'
After making us both breakfast, you offered to take me home, to make the walk of shame a little less embarrassing. You led me outside towards your car, it was a BMW design if I remembered correctly. While driving you placed a warm hand on my pale leg. In this moment, I felt safe while in your hands. What a fool I was to even consider that.
You opened the car door for me, allowing me to take your hand to help myself out. You closed the door, immediately wrapping an arm around my waist. You were wearing a navy tartan suit with a crisp white shirt. You walked me to my door, back then I lived in a house shared with friends, but that soon changed once I met you. You stepped closer to me, your lips interlocking with mine, giving me a passionate kiss goodbye. You told me you would see me again later that evening, promising to meet me after work for dinner before you dashed off in your car. I let myself into my house, getting myself ready for work. I had ignored the questions from my housemates, choosing to relive our night together in my own head.
'Baby, you could be the death of me...'
Later that evening, I waited for you outside my work, perched on the cold black railings. You arrived at least half an hour late, apologizing with some excuse about an important meeting. You were wearing a completely different suit from this morning, I only hoped it was purely for my benefit. You drove us again to the restaurant you had chosen. Am I right in remembering it was the Angler? You hadn't made a reservation for that evening but managed to charm the manager into letting you have the best table in the house. You ordered a bottle of pinot noir, I had never been fond of red wine, but I began to tolerate it after I met you. After our starter of poached scallops, I ordered the salmon while you had asked for the lobster. You handfed me with a little of your shellfish dipped in herb butter, it was delicious making me wish I had ordered the same. Neither of us cared much for dessert, silently agreeing we could have one another instead.
You drove us back to your stunning city apartment. Although I was visiting for the second time, it was different to see it with fresh eyes. It was a classic bachelor's pad, perfect for a hotshot accountant at a big firm. It was like a showroom model, barely lived in and only for a spectacle whenever you brought home a woman, I presumed. There was nothing to identify the flat as yours, no personal achievements framed on the white-painted walls, no photographs. As if you were living in someone else's home. You didn't dare give me a tour of the place before you took me by the hand and let me back through into the bedroom.
I kicked off my kitten heels as your lips found mine, your fingers unbuttoned my sheer-patterned shirt hastily. You threw it to side, neither one of us caring when it landed. You removed your own tailored jacket, stopping to drape it over the armchair in the corner of the room. It had clearly cost a lot if you took that much care with it. You returned to me, interlocking your lips with mine once more, allowing me to unbutton your shirt and tear it away from your tanned skin. You unzipped my skirt with ease, discarding it just as you had my shirt. I stood in front of you for the first time, completely aware of what I was doing, in my black lace lingerie. You kicked off your shoes before removing your own trousers. You scooped me up into your strong muscular arms, allowing me to wrap my arms around your neck and my slender legs around your waist. You carried me back to the bed we shared together, the sweet reminder of last night still lingered. You threw me onto the cream-dyed duvet, my head becoming half-buried by the pillows. I let out a childish giggle as you followed me down.
'Cause heaven knows what you do to me...'
Your kisses moved down onto my neck, you bit my pale flesh, marking me as yours. I let out soft moans, causing you to make your moves a little rougher. But I began to enjoy it. You kissed further down my body, removing my lace lingerie as you went. Your tongue found my nipple, licking and sucking so I would moan even louder. You grinned, continuing down to my knickers. You removed them with ease, sliding them off and discarding them to one side. Your finger tickled me as they drifted down my leg into a more intimate place. Suddenly you stopped, grabbing my leg a little forceful over your shoulder. Your lips against my most sensitive area, you began kissing and pleasuring me all over again. I couldn't help but run my fingers through your hair, gripping on tightly. Your fingers moved quickly to join your tongue, penetrating me with two of them to begin. My moans grew loud. My body feeling new kinds of pleasure and desire. More. I began to say, and you did not disappoint. You fed me more, three then four. But still, I wanted more. You obliged, sitting up on your knees and wrapping my legs around your waist once more.
'You could chain me up or set me free...'
Then I felt it, your stiffened member beginning to enter me. I couldn't help but moan in pleasure. It felt good, too good. You thrusted hard against me, your lips finding mine. But no sooner where they there, did they disappear. Your hands found my legs and moved them onto your shoulders, sending you deeper inside me. Knowing I was in an ecstasy of pleasure, you moved to fish something from your bedside table. Restraint cuffs and a blindfold sat proudly in your hand. Without second-guessing your motives I allowed you to put them on me. I lie there, my hands tied above my head against the bedframe, unable to move. My senses blinded by the mask you had placed over my eyes. I was at your complete mercy.
'You could suffocate or let me breathe...'
In that second, your hand found my throat. I instantly caught my breath, you yet your grip didn't loosen, and you continue to thrust against me. But it felt better this way, it felt unbelievable to feel this good while I had no control at all. You thrusted harder and faster. My moaning, your grunting increased simultaneously. As I climaxed, I felt your seed ejaculate inside of me. The ecstasy wearing off slowly, as you removed the restraints from my wrists, kissing the red marks branding my pale skin. You removed the blindfold and allowed me to rest my weary head in your chest. You wrapped your arms around me, kissing my forehead goodnight. In this moment I felt happy being in your presence. But little did I know back then, it was all going to change.
This charade became routine, continuing for several months before you asked me, one night over a steak dinner and wine, for me to move in with you. Naturally, I accepted and I remember thinking I was the happiest woman alive. What a fool I was to even begin to consider my own happiness. When all you cared about was your own selfish gain.
Our mutual friends complimented us, referring to us as the perfect couple. Back then I laughed, agreeing with the statement. We were inseparable, a partnership equals. We shared your city apartment, overlooking the busy streets of London, sharing machine-made coffee early in the mornings with French pastries. I was living my dream life with you, I hope I would never have to say goodbye. I truly loved you, and back then I truly believed that you felt the same way about me. The passion in the bedroom continued, every now and then we tried a new technique or toy, keeping the ecstasy alive. I had considered going on birth control after our intercourse, but each time you told me not to worry that we were fine, and for a long time we were.
I never saw anything wrong with your behaviour, that was not, to begin with. There were the bad days, as each couple had, I never saw any harm in the odd argument. We were happy, mostly, at least I thought we had been. But back then I didn't realize the shocking truth that was staring hard at me in every mirror I passed. You were a mistake, I never should have made.
You grabbed me by the hair, I knew then it was wasn't out of lust or wanting pleasure. You meant to harm me, dragging me to the carpet so I was nothing more than a cowering, quivering mess, becoming your slave rather than your equal. I cried, begging for you to stop, yet you continued, striking me with your closed fists. First, you went for my stomach, it lurched, bile burned my throat as I began to vomit. You spat at me, calling me a pathetic little slut. But suddenly you stopped, taking a minute to catch your breath while I coughed up a crimson liquid onto the cream-dyed carpet. You sighed, grabbing hold of my blonde curls once more and once again I begged you to let me go.
'You're a cold-blooded killer only after dark...'
You put your face close to mine, your breath, pungent with tobacco, sent chills down my spine. Every inch of my being was pleading with me to run, but still, my mind was heavily intoxicated by you. You whispered in my ear, the very words that frightened me to my core. 'You belong to me'. You started tearing my work clothes away from my pale flesh, kissing every inch of my body. What once was something I enjoyed for pleasure, quickly began to repulse me. Your hands pulled me closely to your already unzipped trousers, your stiffened manhood ready to embed itself within me.
'...But I don't mind'
I began to squirm away, but your firm hand moved quickly to my throat, pinning me to the floor as you implanted it inside. It was uncomfortable and unpleasant. I asked you to stop, trying to fight you off me in my weakened state, but you applied more pressure onto my tiny throat, cutting off my words completely. You silenced me and took advantage of me. I laid there, my sapphire-dyed eyes flooding with tears as you took what you wanted, despite acknowledging my pain and discomfort. You ejaculated inside of me, filling me with your seed and discarded to one side like a used toy. I continued to lie there once you had walked off to grab another smoke, unable to comprehend what had happened. You hadn't meant it, I convinced myself. Back looking back to that moment, only now do I realize how wrong I was. That had been the first time you laid a hand on me, but it wasn't the last.
Cause I'm a sucker, I'll do 'bout anything...'
Your changed behaviour continued, it wasn't just a one-off I quickly learned. What happened once in a blue moon, became a monthly thing after your lad's night out. But even that increased weekly, meaning my punishments increased with them. You soon lost your fancy accountancy job for not being on top form, your numbers had decreased and were soon made redundant as a result. But that was my fault, you swore at me, bullying me into believing it was my fault, and still, I took your beatings.
'...Just to get those hands on me.'
Friends commented on your behaviour several times behind your back, on the rare occasions I was allowed to see them. You had forced me to cut my hours down at work, so you could keep an eye on me better. They had noticed the change in your character whenever they saw us together, apparently the 'perfect couple' had begun to show the cracks in their relationship. But still, I stood by your side.
The sex turned less pleasurable, becoming rougher and more painful each time. You wanted it more and more, I could barely keep up. You had beaten me believing my tiredness was because I was cheating on you. But the truth was, I wasn't enjoying your touch anymore. Each time hurt me to the point I would bleed afterward.
I knew something wasn't right, but it was only after a trip to the doctors for a regular smear test did, I realize something was truly wrong. The nurse performing the examination had asked me about anything irregular in my cycle. I explained to her about the uncomfortable intercourse and she became concerned. She had then asked to examine the rest of my body. I was nervous and uncomfortable but allowed her to do so. She noticed the purple bruising that decorated my body; first, my arms and legs matching hand and fingerprints, to the reddish burns that branded my neck, wrists, and stomach. She was concerned for my welfare. I assured her I was fine and let the examination to go home. I couldn't help but shake off her concerns from my mind.
I was confused. I wanted to speak to you. I wanted to voice my own concerns regarding your actions. Why was your hurting me? Losing your job had not been my fault, it was yours for turning to alcoholism. I entered our luxury apartment, the eviction notice letter still lying on the kitchen counter. There you were, lounged on the sofa necking your fourth bottle of lager. I tried to talk to you, but you quickly turned sour, bringing your face close to mine, forcing me to submit to you. But this time I didn't bend to your will. Instead, I stood my ground. That was my last mistake.
You grabbed me by my curls, forcing me to the cold carpet, while you unzipped your trousers. I saw your throbbing member, I closed my eyes knowing exactly what was going to happen next. You rammed it down my throat, despite me trying to fight against you, but still, you overpowered me. You choked me, filling my mouth with my own bile, but yet you continued to cram it down my throat. You took what you wanted from me, emptying your semen into my throat before throwing me back to the floor. I coughed, puking up the mix of yellow bile with your salty liquid. My sapphire eyes began to water, you had violated me. I forced myself to be rid of your disgusting fluid. A menacing smile plastered your face as you looked down at me. I knew you weren't finished with me yet.
You grabbed me by the throat pinning me to the floor. I remembered this feeling all too well from the last time you had done it. I knew what to expect. Your manhood was still wanting more. You ripped my clothes off my flesh, not giving a second thought to what you were doing. You became possessed, like a demon, taking everything, you wanted, ignoring my screams, begging you to stop. But still, you penetrated me, thrusting harder and deeper inside me. It felt uncomfortable, my insides screaming at you to stop. I continued to beg, but still, you ignored my pleas. Sick of my voice you began to choke me, forcing your grip to tighten on my throat. I found it difficult to breathe unable to catch my breath. You ejaculated filling me with your seed and discarded me to the side once you were finished as you had before. But this time was different, you were done with me yet. I lie there gasping for breath, when I heard you mutter the words, 'I will make you pay for speaking to me like that.' I truly believed you meant it.
You punched me hard in the face, once, twice, three times I counted before my nose began to pour with blood. I assumed you had broken it as you had done before. But you didn't stop there. You struck me in the stomach, multiple times, fracturing my ribs. I began to curl myself up into a foetal position, feeling very little comfort in doing so. You got to your feet, reconsider your actions. But you looked down on me and spat. Your saliva decorating my pale cheek. Then I felt an extricating pain in my left rib, your foot had made contact, kicking me repetitively in the side, shattered my ribs completely. I could barely find the words to say to you, I couldn't muster the courage to even beg you to stop.
It was at that moment I realized, I was your punching bag. I lie still on the ground limp as a ragdoll as my eyes filled with tears. You were the dream I fell in love with, that was until you became my worst nightmare, making my life a living, breathing hell. I was your unsuspecting victim, I was your first and there is no doubt in my mind, I will not be the last. It hadn't mattered to you that I announced I was pregnant with your child several weeks ago. You hadn't stopped hurting me, instead, you only tried to damage me more, in hopes I would lose it. You became to be repulsed by my presence so suddenly, why?
'I'm falling, fading and seeing angels...'
'...you could be the death of me.'
Now, as I lie here in the decaying heap, my curled blonde hair plastered across my pale face. You had left me out in the cold metal bin outside your apartment block, discarding me alongside the rubbish. My body ached, bruised and bloodied from your touch, and yet my final thoughts remained only to you. What I fool I was to listen to my head, allowing your intoxicating charm to manipulate me. I should have listened, I always knew you'd be the death of me. May I be at the mercy of the angels now.
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