[Rogue]

He’s pouring this expensive wine all over me and I watch as it drips down my naked body and makes an ugly stain on the carpet. He leans forward and begins to lick and suck the wine off my breasts, squeezing the tips. I pull away instinctively but he has a firm grip on my nipple, and my hands clench into fists as I endure his attentions.

He gets his necktie off the bed and puts the wine bottle down. He turns me to face the wall and pushes my head into the corner. He pulls my arms behind me and I feel him start to tie them together. I do not want to be helpless with this man!

“No, I can’t….not that.”

My eyes fill with tears as I feel him make tight knots in the silk. I struggle to get away but the silk is too strong and all my struggles only serve to tighten the knots. He pushes me over to the dresser and I see my reflection. I see a girl I hardly recognize – tearstained and winestained and completely at the mercy of the man standing behind me. He gathers my hair in his hand and his mouth drops to my shoulder and neck. His finger softly goes around my eye, then around each breast. I can’t think what his motions mean until his words freeze my soul.

“Look at your symmetry. Your right eye is half a milometer higher than your left. You could fix that with some cheekbone enhancement. Your breasts could be a size bigger, low C.”

This is a man who controls everything. He controlled how I dressed, what I ate and certainly controlled what happened to my body that night. Now he wants to change that body with a knife! I can’t blame his wife for straying. I wonder if his need for control will get worse tonight and how far he’ll go.

He points to my belly but I can’t bear another comment on my imperfections. “Christian, I’d like to go home.”

He stops a moment and looks at our reflections in the mirror. His face hardens and he drags me toward the door and opens it.

“Who’s stopping you?”

He shoves me out the door and closes it behind me! There I am in the hall, bound and naked and covered with wine. The door to the next suite opens a bit, but thank God nobody comes out. I lean against the door and try to open it with my hands behind me, but the door is locked. “Christian!! Please let me in!!” Please, God, let nobody see me like this.

The wait seemed interminable until the door finally opens and I rush back inside. Christian is grinning at me. I feel my temper rise again as I realize this was a ploy to let me know that I need him and am at his mercy. I am forced to admit defeat as I walk over and take my place by the mirror, head down.

“Lie on your side, and push your knees into your chest.”

I stare at him for a minute, then do as he asks, kneeling on the carpet and trying not to land hard on my face as I lay down.

“Have you ever been to hospital? I mean, had to stay overnight?” I can’t think why he would want to know this information and my mind struggles to form an answer.

“Um….I broke my arm, when I was a child. There was swelling or something.”

He asks me how it happened, and I hear the jingle of his belt buckle as he roots around in the pockets of his trousers. I hear the sound of rubber gloves stretching over his hands – an unmistakable and chilling sound that for some reason fills me with panic and a sense of dread.

I stutter, “A slide….I fell.”


I enjoy the sweet smell of the back of Tess’ neck as I continue to use her like a drawing board. I notice her discomfort at my suggestions for plastic surgery but her response still surprises me. My finger moves down to her belly button, but before I can add that I would finish off with abdominal lipo – she says she’d like to go home. We share a stare in the mirror’s glass. She has come this far and slept with me, I don’t understand how improving her appearance and making her more beautiful is crossing the line. Her arms may be tied but she has never been kept here against her will. The door is not locked and that is exactly where I take her. I open it and tug her through the doorway. Once it is slammed, she is left vulnerable and nude in the corridor of our floor.

I rest my ear against the wood and imagine the astonishment on her face right now. I think I hear the click of a door lock in the room next to ours and my hand instinctively catches the handle, tempted to end her distress quickly. She still seems to be by herself, now calling my name and trying to force the door open. I loosen my grip; it obviously can’t be opened from the outside. The young woman begs me. The thought of someone catching her makes me smile as both our bodies are pressed against the door, waiting to hear movement but for different reasons.

After a minute I finally let her back inside, my grin even wider as she scurries into the centre of the room in relief. I was under the impression she wanted to leave – I guess she missed me already. She resumes her position by the mirror, lowering her head in anticipation of further analysis. I instruct her to lie on her side and she gives me a piteous look before getting down to her knees. She finds the best way to land with her awkward restriction and rolls away from the bottom drawer handle that her head was touching. Then, I enquire as to whether she has spent the night in a hospital bed. When she was little, the poor thing broke her arm, with swelling the cause of the extended stay. I look for my trousers on the floor and fish out two surgical gloves and a blue biro.

“How did it happen?” I ask.

I stretch the gloves until they are properly fitted on my fingers. I am almost in her line of sight as her eyes are just above the carpet, but she appears to be staring into space. That is the way I wanted her to face because I am right handed and her knees are up like I asked. The pen is placed beside the contract before I kneel down - the closest Tess has come to achieving her goal so far tonight. She seems nervous and she trips over her tongue; so much for my bedside manner I’ve heard great things about.

“A slide….I fell.”

Just as that last syllable is spoken, I have already begun to slide two fingers into her most intimate place. She loses her breath but I continue to talk casually, roaming her vaginal canal with the index and middle fingers side by side.

“Even before you’re taken to a physician, you should keep the injured arm above heart level as much as possible. It keeps swelling to a minimum.”

I reach the tip of her cervix and feel her lubrication soaking into the rubber glove. The knuckles of my other two fingers rest against her opening and her arms are moving around her back in uneasiness. Gravity was not kind to the semen that did not go through. I collect her juices and my excess cum, a small amount that spilled onto the vulva and also some pre-ejaculatory fluid. I hear her moans at my unwelcome invasion; her eyes closed and face against the ground.

“Did you cry when it happened? Were you a brave girl?”

“Yes,” she murmurs.

Is that a yes to both? Nevertheless, I eventually pull out and upon examination, I’m satisfied with my wet fingers. I switch my attention to her backside and judging by her reaction, or lack of, she did not see this coming. Tess is twenty years of age, and it is alone in this hotel room that she will undergo the first form of surgery in her life. She needn’t worry though, unlike her father’s, this is only exploratory.