I noticed her only because my usual seat at the far end (the dark end) of the bar was already occupied. And because the stool I begrudgingly settled upon was that much closer to the aisle where the strippers exited the stage. Then headed downstairs to change or cop a fix.
I took note of her only because of what she wasn’t wearing. She was just reporting for a shift and as such had no bra on beneath her clinging top. And she had yet to slip into obligatory six-inch heels. The type that would hike up her ass and show off her legs for the next several hours. Up on the main stage.
I selected her in that moment. Only because I felt it right and proper to mangle all that confidence she exuded into something more along the lines of shame and misery.
So it seems I stalked her almost from the very moment that I sighted her. Simply because her scantily clad body offered up a promise of weeks (nay, MONTHS!) of amusement.
I pounced on her after closing one night in the alley between the hospital and her badly illuminated garage. Abetted by a fire alarm I had tripped to channel everyone else’s attention away from her body and even further away from my intent. I took possession of her because she seemed to me to be of more value as a victim rather than just a dancer.
I transported her against her will. And I listened to her sobbing all the way to my basement.
I slapped her with the back of my hand and beat her with my fists because it’s sensible to convey which rules would govern over her in her new home. Then I stripped her naked due to the fact that being nude on stage wasn’t enough of a humiliation for a whore like her. Then I tied her arms behind her back at the wrists. Because I desired that she be under my firm control.
I raped her and it’s obvious why. She was raped often. It’s like that Elizabeth Taylor line in ‘Cleopatra’ where the warm body asks “…am I to understand that you’re going to do whatever you like with me? Whenever you want to?”
Yes. And…yes.
I enslaved her merely because I learnt early on her place and purpose in life was serving a Man. To kneel before a Male. I kept her as a sex slave to fix her.
Because I knew what was best for her.
As time went on I began to contemplate torturing her. Why? Because in her predicament no lame Good Samaritan could hear her scream in agony. Or beg for mercy.
As progress was made with the slut formerly known as Alexa Blake it was me who told her when to strip, how to dance, why she was selected. And how each episode of our time together contributed to an unbreakable line of abduction, rape, slavery and torture that (in truth) all females should endure.
I’m trying my best to get to all of them.
