Mercy

Once carefully snuggled next to my trembling form, Elliot watched with malicious intent as I frowned at the bowl of soup placed harmlessly before me. Wispy curls of steam wafted languorously from the liquid, taunting me with the maddening aroma it brazenly carried with every lazy swirl of gray. Leaning closer, tiny star-shaped noodles caught my eye, and I was instantly thrust into an undeniable predatory state. Those fucking noodles were mine, goddammit, and something as trivial as worrying about Elliot’s motives behind his affectionate display were irrelevant until every last drop of the soup was comfortably warming the angry, growling confines of my stomach.

I then realized two crucial flaws in consuming my meal.

I was still handcuffed.

There was no spoon.

I was royally fucked unless I was willing to swallow any amount of pride or human qualities I still possessed to achieve temporary sustenance.

“What’s the matter, Mikey? You have to be starving, so go ahead. Eat,” Elliot insisted, lips curling into a deceitfully warm smile.

I frowned at him before maneuvering my hands about to clearly demonstrate my incapability of eating his eerie little bowl of soup without making a complete ass of myself. His smile broadened.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he lied. “Speak.”

My eyes bulged, terrified the order was a trap or an excuse for Elliot to terrorize me with some outlandish, depraved beating for making a sound when he’d plainly stated earlier that noise equaled pain. Needless to say, no sound was emitted from my vocal chords.

“Speak, Slut!” Elliot roared, palm swiftly tattooing his crimson handprint onto the left side of my face.

A stunned squeak escaped my throat, resonating in foreign, unstable tones throughout the room. My voice sounded out of place and pathetically insecure, as if any form of speech had become a long forgotten skill, a harshly reprimanded skill. In fact, after the echoes of my petrified shriek finished their rapid vibrations from wall to wall, I found myself momentarily incapable of forming the words I felt were necessary in vocalizing my distress. My jaw unhinged, open and prepared for something other than Elliot’s cock being shoved mercilessly down my throat for the first time in God knows how long, but no sound crawled out from within my throat on the initial attempt. I then coughed, licked my lips, and tried once more and was pleasantly surprised by the gravelly tone emitted from my underused larynx.

“Could you uncuff me?”

“Now why the fuck would I do a stupid thing like that?” Elliot demanded, brows furrowing.

“Because I can’t-”

Thwack. Just as the sting from the premier slap began to fade, a second blow was ruthlessly thrown my way, instantly silencing me.

“Did I give you permission to talk the second time?” he hissed, eyes narrowing to ominous slits.

Wordlessly, I shook my head. I was beginning to understand his game, and I wasn’t fond of it in the least.

“Didn’t think so. Now, Slut, you may speak.”

With much hesitance, I whispered, “I need my hands to be able to eat the soup or at least to hold the bowl…and why isn’t there a spoon?”

“You don’t deserve a goddamn spoon, that’s why, and no, I will not take those cuffs off. Don’t you dare ask again. Now, apologize for your insolence,” Elliot sneered, a self-important smirk lightening features that had been chillingly dark mere seconds prior to making such an outrageous command.

Though I didn’t recall being blatantly insolent, I opened my mouth for the last time that…afternoon? Evening? With the shades firmly drawn over the windows, I couldn’t even begin to estimate the approximate time of day.

“I’m sorry, Elliot.”

“Good boy. Now, go on. Eat your soup before it gets cold,” he advised, eyes blazing with a sickening fascination in anticipation of watching my feeble attempts at eating the meal placed before me.

With the warmth of humiliation already creeping superfluously onto my cheeks, I leaned forward and proceeded to scowl at the bowl. Sure, I was ravenous, but was it truly worth it to lap every last drop of the liquid up like a fucking dog while Elliot sniggered to himself at how obedient his little pet Slut was? A persistent growl and my suddenly primal instincts happened to swiftly put the final kibosh on my soup-slurping grievances, and soon enough, my tongue was cautiously testing the waters as to not repeat the bath scenario. I was half expecting the soup to burn my tongue right off, having been heated to unnaturally sweltering temperatures that would immediately blister and shrivel anything it came in contact with, but no such blistering or shriveling occurred. Instead, I found the soup to be…well, for lack of a better word, perfect. That first minute taste was enough to make my mouth water. Before long, I was practically inhaling my meal using nothing but my tongue and lips as eating utensils.

Elliot cackled mirthlessly throughout the entire ordeal, kneading his crotch in despicable approval of my struggles like the shameless deviant he was.

***

Four days. Four fucking days was how long Elliot had kept me locked inside the closet. He decided to tell me so while he dabbed away the soupy remains from my face with a cheap, generic napkin. It was a gesture I primarily assumed to be somewhat sweet among the other atrocities he was wont to inflict upon me, but he had ulterior motives for his motherly primping. He always had ulterior motives behind any act of kindness, yet at that point, I’d quickly become blind to the imminent sexual favors pending those blasted, sugary words and gentle touches. I suppose it was my psychological coping mechanism to keep myself from panicking every damn time Elliot called me Mikey as opposed to Slut.

After he wiped my face clean, he raped me. I did nothing to protest, nor did I do so much as even move. I simply went limp and allowed for Elliot to do whatever the hell he damn pleased so long as it meant he’d finish and roll off of me sooner than if I were to fight against him. Part of me sensed that he actually thrived off my resistance, but I wasn’t about to give him the added satisfaction. It wasn’t as if he didn’t thoroughly enjoy himself without my spastic flailing, for his grunting and moaning was just as sickening as always, and as a supplementary form of mortification, he came into the empty bowl, expecting me to lap it up like I did the soup. I did so without complaint while Elliot giggled.

“You know…the only reason you didn’t die in that closet is because you swallow,” he’d informed me as I licked the bowl clean. “A person can only survive like…three days without water. You survived four because of my jizz.”

“That’s cute.”

“What?”

“You swallow.”

With one last maniacal snicker, Elliot bounded from the bedroom and firmly closed the door behind him, once more leaving me trapped in the dark. At least the second time he abandoned me in more comfortably spacious surroundings instead of the claustrophobic nightmare that was the closet. His words had unintentionally brought about an awkward flashback involving Billie Joe, and once again I wondered how long it would be until he sent someone to check up on me. I wondered how long it would be until my co-workers started growing suspicious as to why I hadn’t shown up for work in four days…

With a noiseless sob, I buried my face into my pillow and gradually drifted into a fitful sleep. Somewhere in the distance I thought I could hear someone attempting to ring my apartment, hoping to gain entrance once they’d stated their name and reason for entry through the speaker, but I was far too weak to stumble over to the door and listen for what might or might not have been going on in my apartment.

For a moment, I believed I could hear a thick southern accent and the word Fairy being hollered through the speaker, but I simply couldn’t move.

Besides…the old bastard was as close to death as I. There was no way in hell he’d have been able to track me down, let alone get out of bed on his own.

That’s cute.

What?

You actuallywant me to be at your door, Fairy.

When I finally lost my grip on consciousness, all seemingly fictitious noises coming from outside my bedroom door had gone silent.