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T he bedroom curtains slide close with a satisfying metallic clink, descending the room into darkness. The only light that illuminates is from the various candles I have placed around the room, creating an ominous glow, casting shadows over the heap of a man at the center of the room.

Miles is tied up on the bed, belly down over a pile of pillows. His ass is propped up, hanging on the end of the bed frame. And let me tell you, it was a struggle to get him into that position. I underestimated how heavy an unconscious body would be. It’s basically a limp, two-hundred-pound noodle.

It took me about twenty minutes to maneuver him from the dining room to the bedroom. I had to crawl onto the opposite side of the bed and drag his almost dead ass onto the mattress. Also, I may or may not have bopped his head off the floor a few times, but who’s counting?

Once I had him into place, I removed every piece of clothing down to his naked flesh. I wrestled each limb and left nothing behind, not even a thin layer of underwear to protect his manhood.

Since the drug dosage was a complete crap shoot of a guess, I used my spare time collecting all the items I needed to make this night truly special. I lined them up, one by one, sorted by size and purpose of use. Seemingly normal objects and toys I’ve specifically chosen to do my delicious bidding, providing Miles with a taste of his own medicine.

Distracted by the leather belt I’m trying to attach to my waist that refuses to clasp correctly, a noise stirs from the bed.

As if it was divine intervention itself, the clasps finally snap into place, securing the belt snugly to my hips. The cool leather creates a slight tension on my slip dress, causing it to ride down my breasts ever so slightly.

I busy myself with grabbing my first item from the lineup along with a pair of black, rubber gloves. They snap into place like a second skin. A protective barrier from the carnage I’m about to perform.

Muffled moans echo behind me.

“Well, well, look who’s finally awake.”

I walk over and kneel against the bed, eye level with a subdued Miles. His body shivers slightly, mostly from exposure, but I silently hope it’s also in fear.

I tap his nose with my finger. “Aren’t you a good boy, all tied up,” I tease.

Miles twitches under his restraints. The rope holds him securely in place, digging into his already sensitive skin. Eyes squint in pain when he realizes that him flopping like a fish won’t help. Once he settles, I allow him a few moments to catch his breath. I snicker, unable to help myself with his predicament. How often was I the one tied up when he looked down on me without a care in the world?

Black eyes dart towards me, fury eclipsing the once brown eyes I used to adore.

I pat him on the head before retreating back to my table.

“Yes, yes. How dare I treat you this way? Mary, your little subservient wife who worships at your feet.”

Returning, I add a secondary rope to the center of the bed. I don’t want any doubts of his escape while I have my fun.

I tighten the rope strapped across Miles’ midsection and he grunts from the pressure. Gliding my fingers over his bare back, I walk around him, admiring my work, dragging my feet to relish this moment.

Miles’ ass is propped up against the bolster, knees pinned against the mattress and arms splayed to the sides. I smack his ass as I pass and he yelps like a scared puppy.

My core warms in excitement of what I have planned for him.

Kneeling when I reach his face, I lock eyes with him.

The ball gag jammed in his gullet is covered with saliva. The corners of his mouth bubble with spit as he tries to work his mouth away from the contraption. His eyes are bloodshot from overexerting himself. The little capillaries haze the whites of his eyes with pink, muting his dark expression.

“I am Mary, descendant of the forgotten. The whore of retribution. And I will make you pay tenfold for the vile disrespect you put on our marriage, my life, and my sanity. You may think that you won with your stash of money that was made from my body and your access to the good ol’ boys club from your disgrace of a business deal, but you crossed a fucking line when you took my choice away from me. So now…” I pause, trying to contain the laughter bubbling up.

A building frenzy is threatening to explode before the party even starts. I turn to not give away my excitement and snatch one of the nearby candles.

“Now I’m going to fuck you the same way you fucked me. So get comfortable, sweetheart. Now it’s your body, my choice. This is going to be a long night.”

Dripping wax covers my hand from the brisk motion, but the pain from the heat doesn’t even register. I’m sinking into my own black abyss and I welcome it with open arms.

Miles twitches against the bed, huffs of air escaping his nose and he tries to silently scream against the ball gag. I made sure to buy a larger one, so that if he tried to push the ball gag out, he’d rip his lips in the process. And no one wants to be Joker’d by a ball gag. How embarrassing would that story be?

I place my hand on his lower back. Miles stills. Anticipation zings through the air, electrifying the space. I rub circles on his skin, resulting in goosebumps from earlier. I lean back to take a peek at his backside and notice he’s sporting a half chub. Seriously? This is getting him off. Well, we’ll just have to fix that.

I scoff and dump the candle wax onto his ass without warning.

Miles screams again, this time whimpering at the end. His body bucks forward, trying to escape from the burning liquid. I clamp my hand down on his ass, carefully spreading the meat open for a full view of his asshole.

“Oops,” I chime, pouring more hot wax directly onto his perking rim.

The wax slides slowly, ever so slowly down his ass crack. Stray drops slip between his pubic hair. His asshole isn’t nearly as pretty as mine is , I joke to myself as I allow the candle to keep burning, more wax covering my desired area.

Miles continues to scream and squirm under my grasp. I let him. Allow him to feel even an ounce of hope that this might not be the end for him and he can escape. He can’t, but only I know that.

I slip a finger through the wax, lubing it up on all sides.

“Did you know that you can buy candles that also double as lube?” I ask no one in particular. “It’s a great way to mix pleasure and pain. Something I’m sure you know all about.”

Miles stills, his fight diminishing.

“Ah, now it’s all clicking, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

I drag my lubed finger down his ass crack, encompassing his asshole.

A soft moan escapes Miles, his head sinking into the bed from the sensation.

And, because I’m a petty bitch, I wait until his cock is fully erect before jabbing my finger directly into his tight ring without warning.

Using my free hand, I grab the second object off the bed: steel wool, worked into a donut shape. My rendition of a masochistic pocket pussy. Adding lube to my free hand, I run it over the length of Miles’ cock, spreading the slick liquid over every inch. Miles relaxes into my touch, his asshole releasing slightly. The moans slowly return as I work his ass and cock in tandem. I allow him a few moments of pleasure. Until I replace my hand with the steel wool, it’s jagged edges catching against the smooth skin of his dick.

“Did you know,” I ask, moving the steel wool into position around his swollen head, “that the vaginal walls rip when a woman is raped? Especially if there’s no lubrication. Ripped to shreds. And the pain that lingers from that can last for weeks.”

I slip the wool down a millimeter. Miles whimpers, so I slip it one more.

Leaning forward, I whisper into his ear.

“I hope this feels as awful for you as it did for me.”

I slam the steel wool down the entire length of his shaft, my hand bouncing off the hilt of his cock. Miles crows, his skin turning beat red. Shivers run through him as his body tries to understand the current sensations. I don’t give him time to adjust.

With a hammering pace, I jack him off. Imbuing all my hate into each pump.

He cries through the whole thing, but his cock never softens. It only takes a few minutes, but the lube mixed with the blood bubbling up from the micro tears in the skin causes him to ejaculate. His cum splatters the black bed sheets beneath him.

“Disgusting.”

I drop his wilting penis onto the bed, leaving the wool wrapped around his member.

Done with the second act. Time for the finale.

Not bothering to change my gloves, I pick up the final item on my table.

Neon pink with glitter and girthy as hell, my favorite dildo is ready for her time to shine. She’s also about ten inches long, but that never satisfied me the way being stretched did. The length was a secondary perk to buying her.

Placing the dildo at my groin, I snap it into place against the harness. A strap-on fit for a princess. Or one really, ungrateful bastard.

Miles is silent as I prepare myself. Little ticks and clicks echo through the space, alerting him that I’m grabbing more items, but he has no idea what’s in store for him.

I smack his ass as I stride towards his waiting face. He yelps against the ball gag, now fully slathered in a thick coat of saliva.

“Be a good boy and don’t bite me,” I threaten, slapping his cheek in warning.

Unhooking the toy from behind his head, Miles spits the ball gag out before I have a chance to remove it. He sputters, dragging in heaps of fresh air into his lungs. Snot drips from his nose. Spittle runs down the sides of his face. His eyes are bloodshot from screaming so hard.

Once he composes himself, he finds a little more fight.

“Mary, what the fu?—"

I silence him before he finishes that sentence, shoving the tip of the massive dildo between his swollen lips. A small puff of air leaves Miles’ nostrils, the dildo blocking his main airway.

I pet his hair back, pulling his gaze up to me. His eyes wander the length of my body despite his predicament.

“You’ve always been good at staying quiet. Except for when it benefited you, it seems.”

I thrust my hips forward, slipping the dildo deeper into his mouth. The toy stops barely three inches in, tapping the back of his throat and making him gag. I pull back slightly, allowing him to take a deep breath through his nose.

“So now, I’m going to do what benefits me and I'll silence you.” I smile wickedly. “Forever.”

Pulling my hips all the way back, I trust forward with every ounce of strength I have. The dildo bounces off the back of Miles’ throat, resulting in another gagging sound. Ignoring it, I pull back again. This time, I slowly slide forward, allowing his mouth and throat to stretch around the phallic object. His lips pale around its girth, the corners of his mouth beginning to turn red as micro tears form from the size. Trickles of blood slowly dribble to his chin, dripping onto the bed.

Miles’ irises shake, pleading for a break. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

How many nights did I share tears with him? Worried that I was going insane or something worse was happening? And what did he do? Nothing. But he continued with whatever served him.

What’s that old saying? An eye for an eye.

Tapping a button on the bottom of the dildo, a vibrator comes to life against my clit. The buzzing sensation drills straight to my core. I trust my hips again, this time lost in the rise of my own desires.

Euphoria warms my nerves. My climax builds with each thrust of the toy. Pleasure begins to mix with the gruesome act in front of me.

Miles’ gags continue, the rubber cock abusing every inch of his esophagus. Soon, bile begins to leak from his nostrils, the stench defiling this perfect union of devil and angel in unholy matrimony of death.

I grip his hair, locking his head into place and I continue my assault on his throat, refusing to give him an inch of space to breathe. I can feel myself nearing the brink of an orgasm and I want—no, I need —to feel my release as his body slips into oblivion.

Miles whimpers against the obstruction. A sickening sound of a dying animal. I click the button on my toy, upping the intensity and drowning out his insufferable whining. The build-up in speed tingles against my clit, sending me over the edge.

“Go fuck yourself,” I grunt out, each word emphasized by a deeper thrust into his wrecked neck cavity.

I cry out, my orgasm finally finding me. Bursts of pleasure rush through my body. Juices squirt out, mixing with the filth Miles ejected from his nose onto the dildo.

My breathing is ragged. My head swims as I come down from my high. I can feel my eyes blurring from the over stimulation. Ears ring against the drowning silence of the house.

I take a few deep breaths to ground myself. My head swims with endorphins, causing my body to heat from the inside out. It’s like a warm hug after a long day, and I know I’ll never be able to find this kind of high again.

Shifting off the bed, I pop the dildo out of Miles’ mouth. A flood of bodily fluids escapes his slack jaw, spilling over the bed sheets as a few drops splatter onto the floor, his lifeless eyes staring into nothing.

“Well, fuck,” I mumble to myself.

That’s more than I expected for clean-up.

But I can worry about that after I clean myself up. Aftercare is the most important care, and bringing yourself to orgasm by death of your enemy is going to create one hell of a drop. All I want right now is a clean pair of clothes. And a shower.

A shower would be good.