Amantes Odiados

Author's Note- As promised- my after-christmas piece. It's dark and angsty and if that doesn't float your boat you are well warned.

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You love those leather bindings, love the way they twine around your wrists and ankles to the headboard, love the way they tighten and tease. Those bindings are a sign- a precious symbol of how trusting you are, of your willingness to submit to me. They keep you vulnerable, keep me in control.

You love that- love me.

I hate you.

I love those leather bindings, love the way they cut into your wrist and ankles the more you struggle toward pleasure, love the way they are covered in the layers of old blood. Those bindings are a sign- a degrading symbol of how foolish and naïve you are, of my ability to completely dominate you. They keep you helpless, allowing me free reign over your disgusting body.

I love that, hate you that much.

You stay perfectly still from the moment I enter the room, as though I won’t be able to tell you have squirmed around in the preceding hours. Do you think I am a fool? I know you. You are weak to the temptations; you have an aptitude for stupid things. You tried to free yourself after the first hour, shortly past the point where your bound limbs had gone numb.

Didn’t work, did it? You can’t outsmart me- you don’t really want to.

“How is my little pet?”

You preen like some pretty little household kitten. You should know better. It’s a good thing for you that you know not to answer that question. After all, do you think I would truly care about how you are doing? Your well being matters little to the grand scheme of things- certainly not to tonight.

I stand over you, so close- yet I refuse to dirty myself by putting my hands on you. The very thought of putting my hands on your body has my flesh crawling. You are so dirty.

So very, very dirty.

You know what is coming. Though I detest giving you the pleasure of predictability, there is no other way by which to precede. You simply must be cleaned properly.

The gloves are kept by the bedside, and I slip a pair on my hands, snapping the latex so that your tense nerves jump. I offer a mocking laugh when you flinch. You, too, have become predictable.

I grab the materials from under the bed. Oh, I can just see in your eyes how much you hate what I am about to do. You will allow me because I am your beloved master, your beloved.

You will allow me anything, won’t you?

The cold metal tube is slowly, dryly, slid into you. You offer me a lovely wince, a delightfully pained moan as your body wraps around it- a harsh scream as your ass devours it. You are such a whore, taking every inch I give you, as though it were my cock. I slide it in until you have screamed yourself hoarse, until it has been thrusted as far as humanly possible and you feel as though I have opened you up all the way to your throat.

Then I turn the pump on.

The liquid is cold, icy almost, entirely too cold for such sensitive tissue. You gasp and struggle against the leather, that blessed leather. I ignore your futile escape efforts, I always have. You want this. This is why you are here; this is the prerequisite for my affections. What wouldn’t you do for my affections?

The freezing liquid just seems to flow and flow, doesn’t it? I love how you look with your stomach distended. You look as though you could carry a child, your stomach growing and growing. Your pathetic mewling indicates how desperate you are to be filled with my seed. Do you want me to impregnate you?

It will never happen. I hate you.

You let out a strange, tortured sound when you are certain you can take no more. I merely laugh. You can take as much as I will give you. You will take all that I give you. After all, you love me.

Of course you do. I love how as you squirm in pain and discomfort, you only increase the sensations- the water sloshing around to and fro: I love how you are pleading for me to stop.

“Take it out, Gods, please, just take it out. Stop.”

I love those words; love how you repeat them over and over, mindlessly pleading. There is nothing more arousing than you reduced to begging for me.

Gods…

Finally, finally you seem full enough to please me… and this is all about pleasing me. I slip the tube from you, just as slowly as it was inserted. Now the fun can really begin.

“Don’t spill a drop.”

I watch you desperately trying to clench, to keep what must be a damning pressure from flowing free. You know if even a droplet were to stain my sheets, this would be over, that those lovely leather bindings would be undone and you would be sent away- and not just for tonight. I have no room for those that can not follow such simple orders- especially you. You, who I hold to the highest standards.
Will you disappoint me, yet again?

You manage to hold all the liquid. I am slightly impressed, though not overly so. This is child’s play- how well will you do in the next round?

I pick up the next toy. I love this one, love how degrading it is. This time it is in shaped like a cone, though instead of finishing in a fine point, it is connected to a thin flexible tube. Do you know how I plan to use this?

Obviously not.

I grab the lube from beside the bed-not the good stuff. The lubricant I use for you is worth little more than grease. You are ever so lucky. At least the toy will be slightly oiled.

You must love me for my generosity.

I run just the slightest amount of the salve over the cone, and then set it aside. I run my finger over your opening and you cry out, struggling desperately to follow my orders, to not let any spill. One gloved finger. But you don’t allow any to escape and I am almost proud of you. Two fingers. Three. My god, you do have the body of a whore. You can do anything with that body of yours.

I pick up the toy; the oil has partially dried on the silk sheets. I am ruining silk for you. I will take the price out on your body, no worries.

You look at me nervously, maybe expecting me to go as slowly with you as I did with the enema. I’m done taking my time. I stretched you, didn’t I? You scream out so loudly when I jam the plastic cone inside your ass, widest part first. I love the way you scream.

“Do you want me to empty you, Harry?”

I am stoppering the end of the hose, holding back the flow of liquid, keeping it trapped within you. What would you do in order to release that liquid? Gods, the pressure must be building to an unbearable level. How long will you hold out?

You nod your head, desperately. You are so weak that you want the liquid, the pressure, removed at any cost.

Yet you hesitate when I tease the rubber tube over your lips.

“Open.”

You do so, reluctantly, and I slip the tubing inside your mouth. I watch as your lips close around the hose, the same way you would wrap around a hard cock.

My hard cock.

“Don’t you want to be empty? Suck it.” You don’t. You are disobeying me. “I said suck it, whore.” I strike your ass, raised as it is in your leather bindings. That sloshing liquid, the uncomfortable waves rolling through your gut… you start to suck.

I watch in disgusted fascination as the dirty liquid winds up through the clear tubing, watch as you hold a mouthful frozen, refusing to swallow.

Naughty, naughty.

I abuse your flesh again, and again, and again until your skin is hot and pink and you are sucking on the hose like a baby to its mother’s breast, swallowing your own shit as though it is milk. Gods, I love how you redden. Even after you have finished draining your ass dry, I continue to hit you.

You let the tube fall from your lips as I pick up the paddle. Your bindings are readjusted until I have the perfect angle- then I resume torturing your flesh. I love the way you jerk against the leather as I tear strips into your ass. You are fucking gorgeous…

For a whore.

Now you are bleeding, adding to the mess on the sheets, and the wooden paddle is nothing more then a pile of broken splinters. I hastily brush them aside but if you roll through the missed shards, I won’t mind. At least now you are clean and the night can begin in earnest.

The toy is removed before I grab the cock ring and fit it over you. My gods, how can you be so hard after all that I have put you through? I guess you are truly a pervert, a disgusting little faggot. This next act should be right up your ally.
I dribble the economy grease over the latex that protects my hand. Oh yes, you’ll enjoy this.

One fingers slides easily inside, then another, then another. Three fingers easily fit into your stretched ass, sliding back and forth, spreading it even father. You cry out, seemingly enjoying the obscene way your ass eats my fingers.

A forth finger- I love the way you so hungrily accept me even though your body is protesting the rough way I am breaching you. With out giving you time to adjust I tuck my thumb up inside your hole, pressing it firmly. Slowly and insistently I rock my fist, pausing and enjoying the way you seem to stretch like elastic over the widest part of my wrist, until I ram it into you and your sphincter snaps closed like a vise. Have I told you just how much I love to hear you scream?

I love the way you accepts my probing into your body; the way you try to get even more- like the greedy slut you are. I won’t touch you farther than the gloves will protect me from your disgusting heat. You try to tempt me with that same warmth, but I am stronger than you. I won’t fall to such temptations- your flesh is weak.

Now you are moaning, your head tossed back and forth mindlessly as you chant out pleas.

“Stop. Harder. More. Please. No more. Come?” You pants out breathlessly. “-Gods.”

I don’t give into any of your wishes. You shouldn’t have been expecting me to. This isn’t about you, remember? I hate you. Instead I slip my arm up inside you and then pull it back, fucking you slowly on my forearm. Once, twice- I keep the pace steady and constant until my arm is tiring and your ass is gaping. Now the fun is gone and I pull my hand free, leaving you wanting. You struggle to readjust while I try to figure out what else I can do to make you understand just how much I hate you.

You misinterpret my stare. I can see you studying me, trying to decipher out just what I’m thinking. Finally you whisper, “I love you, too.”

At that, I laugh- the sound disturbing the still silence. Your eyes widen and I can see the confusion in your expression. You honestly thought I cared. How could you? How could you have misinterpreted my actions and intentions? I never lied! I hate you. I hate you!

“I hate you!”

That’s when your expression closes. You sink back inside yourself. Good, stay there, I’m not here for you. I can fuck you, fuck with you, without you even being here. I just need a body. I guess I’ll have to settle for you. You are the only one depraved enough to give it over to me.

But I don’t want to chance that you will attempt to repeat your mistake- stealing my fun with words. This time I’m adding a gag to match the rest of your bondage, pulling it tight enough to slice into the corners of your mouth. That will teach you to say such stupid things.

There’s a knife beside the bed. Its metal gleams in the pale lights- Gods, it is so fucking beautiful! Just a plain kitchen knife, not worth much. That one will suit you just fine- its jagged dull edge perfect for your skin.

That brings you back, doesn’t It? The prick of the knife is at your throat. Do you think I will kill you? Maybe I would enjoy fucking you as your body cooled around me. But not tonight- you won’t find blessed release from me. I refuse to give that to you.

Instead of slicing your throat, the knife is dragged downward, over your pale, hairless chest, only breaking from your skin to cross your naval, and then further. You strain against the bindings- nervous, anxious- as I continue into your most sensitive skin. You are making muffled screams against the gag. Oh, but I thought you loved me enough to trust me? That’s what you said, isn’t it? I keep the very tip, dragging, ripping further down your body, until the sharp edge of the blade presses against your hardened cock.

But I stop. Watching the disgusting trickle of your blood seeping out, while you attempt to stay perfectly still- your efforts ruined by your deep breathing. I press the knife just slightly deeper and then you stop, holding your breath all together, too scared to move. The only movement is your eyes flickering between myself and your dick.

Which do you love more?

How long can you hold your breath?

Long moments stretch on, the tension drawing out, and then I lift the blade. You let out a heavy breath of relief, your eyes pleading with me to end this game, to let you go. But you wanted this, you came to me for this. I never lied to you to get you here. I have always, always hated you. Did you think that would change once I took your vile body and made it my own? It didn’t. I still hate you- hate the way you lie passively on my bed, bleeding into my sheets. Just watching you lie there disturbs me.

I whisper the words that loosen the bindings- removing the gag as well, trusting you not to speak. You make no effort to move or talk. You know better. My, aren’t you well trained? Such a good little pet- a lifeless imitation of one at the very least.

“On you knees.” I watch you listlessly turn over and submissively position yourself before me, your knees spread at the perfect angle, offering the perfect view of your twitching ass. Your body is begging for me.

You are such a whore, so desperate for my cock.

I grab up my wand from bedside table and push it into your ass, not worrying about it; after all you are clean now. I cast the protection spells. I would never stick my dick inside you until I knew you couldn’t pass on any disgusting disease you may carry; knew your body would reject my seed. I ignore your mummers of discomfort at the spells scour your bowels. The burning sting left is nothing less than your deserve.

I poke my wand at your insides a few times, enjoying your squirming- the way your body seems tries to reject and yet greedily suck on my wand. You are so twisted you can’t even decide what you want-

You certainly can’t trust yourself to think you love me.

I snatch my wand back and you cry out. But then I am there, my hard dick filling you up, your only preparation left over from our previous play. It wasn’t enough. You scream as I steadily feed my dick into your hole. I refuse to take you quickly as just get it over with, but I keep the pace fast enough, never giving you time to adjust. Gods, you are so tight, so damn hot. You are trying to push me out, bearing down so that I slip in against your fiery resistance.

Once I’m inside, I wait. Letting the tension build, feeling your nerves tighten in anticipation as you try to regain control of your breathing. Long moments pass with nothing moving but the hands on the bedside clock. You shift restlessly, trying to get something from me, any small movement. Instead I smack your skin, loving your surprised gasp. You will move once I say you can; you have no control in any of this. This is for me.

Finally I move, setting a pace brutal and punishing. You try to push back, to match my rhythm- but every time I vary the speed, enjoying the way you flounder. I pound your ass, again and again.

This is why I am here. This is why I let you come to me; it is nothing more than the chance to bury myself over and over again in your flesh. You are here out of love, out of foolishness. I am the man who hates you, hates everything you are and stand for, who will only welcome you in my life as a passive piece of ass. I hope you understand that, hope you know this will never be more then a passable fucking.

I pull your hair as I come; my seed spilling around inside of you, uncaring that you still wear the cock ring that prevents your own climax. I’m not here to get you off. I stay inside you, ignoring the discomfort of drying sweat sealing our skin together, uncaring of whether you can support my weight or not. I stay perfectly still as I soften in your ass.

Then I do the thing that will finish off the evening.

In one flick of my wrist, I twist off the cock ring, at the same time relaxing my bladder. You gasp at the first splash of hot urine against your bowels. You are reduced to nothing but jerking and gasping as I fill you with me piss and come, my hand on your cock keeping you trapped against me. Your balls draw up and seconds before you come, I remove my hand, watching you struggle for a few moments to reach that peak. Then you are shooting, adding to the mess of come, blood, sweat, and piss that stains my sheets.

I pull out hastily, unconcerned with your wince of pain as I watch your ass leak out my fluids. You flip over, staying under me, and I gaze impassively as you try to figure out what I’m thinking. Finally, you seem to have reached some sort of decision because you lean forward, sitting up until our lips are a breath apart. You whisper, “I do love you,” and then press your lips to mine.

I don’t return the kiss. I wait a beat and then shove you away; you bounce against the pillows from the force. I press my hands to your chest, leaning down until I’m eye to eye with you. I break the tense silence without emotion. “I hate you.” And then I push myself off you, deaf to your grunt. I unstraddle you before walking into the bathroom and turning on the shower, not looking back.

I return twenty minutes later, after you have collected your clothing and left. I curl up, naked, on the soiled sheets. Now that you are gone, I drop the mask and press my face into the pillows, breathing in deeply. Your scent has stained the silk. Gods, how I love the clean innocent scent that always seems to linger- but I’m never going to tell you that. I’ll never tell you how much I love you. How much I love your trusting nature, love the way you let yourself go, let yourself fall apart in my arms. I’m never going to tell you that. Because I don’t lie. I hate you. Hate you with a passion that is unparalleled. I hate you because I will never be the man that you deserve. Hate you because the world agrees with me and we will never have the freedom of happiness with each other. I hate you because I truly love you, more than words and actions could ever show, more than words and actions could ever destroy.

I do love you, too.

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AN- Kudos on those who made it to the end. Marcy even had to walk away half way and then come back to beta it. So super kudos to Marcy. As always, I love to hear feedback, especially your feedback,so take the chance to leave a review. Happy review make me happy and then I'm less likely to write angsty pieces and maybe something will work out for our dear characters in the next one.
The title, for those of you who are curious, simply means "Hated Lovers.'