Daniel struggled against his bonds defiantly, a hidden smile haunting his tense, ruby lips. A stinging sensation singed his back as the leather strips wracked his frame again and again. Blind in the darkness he shivered, deafened by the shrill streams of music that resonated in the dungeon-like room.
“So, Danny, how do you feel now?” a deep voice whispered in his ear, chewing on the bit of flesh as it waited for a response. Daniel growled, straining to snap at the male. This only earned him a laugh, and a teasing caress of his organ. He was pleased with himself for pleasing his “master” — the man for whom he had lived the past 4 months of his life. In public they were the perfect couple, fighting for gay rights and spending all possible time together. Behind closed doors they enjoyed the whips and chains Luke had hidden in his closet. But it was all just fun, all just a kinky game. Not everyone thought it was just a game. The night before the body of a young woman had been found in the alley behind Hell — clad in fishnets and boots, a grim smile eternally frozen on her face. She had been stabbed, supposedly a suicide. But Luke and Daniel had seen her inside the club that very night, accompanied by another dark female. The dead girl had been led outside on a leash, and there she had died. Daniel shuddered suddenly, and suddenly wished that Luke would orgasm more quickly, wanting more than anything to just curl up in a little ball. And when he was finally released he did just that, resting his head against Luke’s chest.
But Daniel couldn’t tell him what was wrong, and merely shrugged off Luke’s inquiries. How could he explain? He had known Rosa, smelt her sweet scent, kissed her soft lips. They had made love on a dusky morning, and sworn a secret love. But cheaters never prosper, and now she was dead. He couldn’t help but feel responsible. . .
The lights were out when he reached his house, and not a sound could be heard. In his own room his fish tank hummed softly, casting an eerie glow deep into the outstretched corners. Something wasn’t right, but Daniel always felt that way. He was a jumpy creature by nature, and paid the sensation no heed. Instead he threw a tattered jacket on the floor, kicking off his boots. Right, then left hit the floor with empty thuds, possibly waking his parent below. He hoped it wouldn’t, afraid to face their questioning looks. They had yet to learn of Luke, and if Daniel had his way, they never would ‘Homophobic bastards . . .’
He flopped himself on his bed, and immediately froze in fear. Thin, delicate hands traced from his neck to his waist, long hair caressing his face as the ghostly figure stretched across him. Her hands stayed at his belt as moistened lips pressed roughly against his own in an up-side-down kiss. She smothered him with the act, stripping him of the only clothing he wore as she did. His penis stood erect against Daniel’s struggles, and the tip began to glisten. Releasing him from her grip, she stretched downwards to it, teasing with laps and kisses. Daniel moaned, surprising even himself.
“That’s my good little faggot,” the girl cooed, and fear again raced through his veins again. It was her, the girl from the club. His darling Rosa’s killer was now stretched across him, grinning in the darkness.
She laughed wickedly, nails sending tingling sensations up Daniel’s’ fragile spine. And there he stayed, another victim to her moody whims . . .
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