I have the volume turned all the way down, but somehow it still doesn’t seem low enough. Because a scream sounds piercing at any volume. I’m scared to turn off the sound because I’m certain that, without it, everything will just look ten times worse.
I glance at the bedroom door.
I really hope Jack’s asleep.
I’m trying to imagine why any woman would want to submit to that. I ask myself why Anna would want to submit to that. And the answer is right there in front of me.
Her eyes have glazed over. There’s a strange kind of ecstasy written on her face. A look that says, ‘gimme more’ and ‘no more’. Both. At the same time. A look beyond the limits of endurance. A look I’ll never forget. I can’t stop looking. I’m afraid to look away. I don’t know whether I want to fuck Anna or save her.
I don’t hear the bedroom door until it’s open.
Until it’s too late and Jack’s standing there, naked and rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
I stab at the keyboard, frantically.
Turn off the volume.
‘What time is it?’ Jack says, sleepy-voiced. He’s woozy, but still a little sour.
‘You frightened me,’ I say.
Did he hear?
Hide the browser.
I’m flushed with the fear of being discovered. Paranoid it shows on my face.
Pull up the word processor.
‘What are you doing?’ he says.
He heard. He knows. He suspects.
‘Essay,’ I say, and sigh, just a little too dramatically.
No more questions. Please, no more questions. I’m not good at this. The guilt thing.
He goes to get himself a glass of water in the kitchen, and walks back through the living room.
‘Don’t stay up too long,’ he says, standing above me, looking down.
‘Soon,’ I say.
He doesn’t know, he didn’t hear. I can hear it in his voice now. I feel stupid.
The guilt of doing wrong replaced by the guilt of being dumb.
And then I’m distracted by his cock. Right at eye level. Early morning cock, fat and fleshy. His balls hanging full and low. Sometimes I think I could tell the time of day by the shape and size of his cock at any given moment, like the shadows on a sundial that lengthen and recede. I know if I could put Jack’s cock in my mouth now, I could suck all the disappointment out of him and make him forget anything happened between us at all.
He goes back to the bedroom and closes the door behind him. I wait to make sure he’s not going to come out again. I wait as long as I can. I wait thirty wasted seconds staring at the blank page of an essay I have no intention of writing. Then I pull up the SODOM website and start again.
I’m looking at Anna in an iron cage that’s been cast in shape of a dog, standing on all fours. It fits the curves of her body so snugly it seems like it was custom-made. Only her rear-end and her head are not encased by metal.
From what I can tell, the whole cage is electrified because there are cables connected to it that trail off, out of shot, and every time Anna knocks against the bars, even slightly, she howls in pain. Just like a dog is supposed to.
The clip is shot so it never cuts, just tracks around and around and around Anna, ever so slowly, just so you can soak in all the details.
It tracks past Anna’s rear-end and I can’t help but notice her labia squeezed plump between her thighs, entirely and expertly shaved, with not a razor bump or burn in sight, but coated with thin beads of sweat. She’s completely smooth and hairless, except for a neatly trimmed bush, dirty-blonde and downy, in the shape of a rabbit’s foot.
Sticking out her ass is a large, shiny aluminum butt-plug that looks like an H-bomb. And sticking out of that are several black cables that are clamped to the bars of the cage.
The lips of Anna’s pussy are held apart by metal clips. They look like bulldog clips, but they have screws in the top with copper wire around them, which hangs slack, all the way down to the terminals of a car battery placed nearby on the floor. It is jury-rigged with dials so that the juice can be turned up and down.
I figure it must have been done for effect because even I know it’s pretty hard to get an electric shock from a car battery. A mild buzz, maybe, but nothing lethal. Even so, there are more electrical cables clustered around Anna’s nether region than the backside of an office mainframe. And it makes me nervous.
It’s as if this Anna, the one I’m watching, is a different person. Not the Anna who sits behind me in class. Not even the one who pulled up her sleeves and showed me the deep welts and livid bruises on her wrists and arms.
This Anna deliberately puts herself in harm’s way. Not knowing exactly what she’s getting into or how she’ll react. Whether she can take it or if it will break her.