Breaking Benjamin (NSFW, 18+)

Her breath catches in her throat. "....you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Her voice is breathless, almost awed, and she shudders, smile going wider.

"You would. You want me to hurt you. Fuck. You were such a perfect choice for this." She nips at his lip again. "But no, it isn't about what you want, it's about what I want..."

Her thumb glides over the head of his cock, slides a little lower to drag a nail lightly over his frenulum. "....and right now, I want you to be left in the dark." She kisses him full on the mouth, at this, hard and hungry, and the fishhooks just barely prick into his skin as she grips his face.

 

He would deny it if he could, but... He just flushes hot against her skin, opening his lips for her, letting her in. Letting her claim him completely. There's nothing else he can do, and no rescue coming.

"I have a feeling you're going to hurt me enough already," he says, lips quirking in a shaky approximation of a smile. Even if her plans do work, and he doesn't end up a rotting corpse... There's no world where being strapped to a rack ends well.

He's so fucking scared.

"... anything you want," he whispers. "... are you going to strap me back up, now?"

 

She flips the fishhooks away into nothing again. "No, I'm going to shove you into the tub and scrub you down until your skin's red and raw," she grins, stepping back and letting him go.

"Might as well take advantage of having you here to clean you up before getting down to brass tacks, after all." She stretches lazily, then moves to the tub, leaning down to turn on the water, humming cheerily again.

 

He stays there, blinking, still breathing fast as he processes her sudden change in mood. His cock is still hard and hopeful, and he squirms a bit as he watches her fill the tub.

"... I showered like... three days ago," he mumbles defensively. "... I was coding."

He hesitates, then slowly moves to kneel on the tile floor, looking up at her. He'll be better off if he tries to make her happy, right?

Fuck.

 

She straightens, scowling down at him. "What are you doing on your knees? Get in the tub," she snaps, one hand reaching out to roughly fist in his hair and shove him towards the waiting bathtub.

 

He freezes in panic, stumbling and barely catching himself before his cheekbone hits the tub. His eyes are wide again as he climbs in, rabbit-quiet and watchful, with long legs tucked up against his chest.

 

The water is hot, almost scalding - a keen contrast to the ice-cold eyes on him.

She pulls the showerhead from the wall and flips the switch on the tub.

A rush of scalding water pelts his face and hair.

 

Benjamin whimpers softly, squeezing his eyes shut, blunt nails digging into his palms again. It fucking hurts, like the skin's going to scorch off. He's rapidly going pink as the water level rises; he's never handled heat nearly as well as cold.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he tries to turn his head away from the stream, cracking one eye open to try to gauge her reaction. Is she going to get pissed again?

 

She just stares down at him, expression cold, adjusting the spray so it follows his movements. "That's all it takes to make you flinch?"

 

He cringes, going stock-still. "... I'm not Yosef," he mumbles.

He's a programmer, not a... not whatever it is that she's expecting. He hides in his house like a coward, and he tries not to talk to people. This is far more conversation than he's had in the last two months, already.

What was she expecting? He's not... brave.

 

"No. You're really not." She replies dispassionately. "Yosef is the only one who needs to be Yosef. I do not expect you to be him. I expect you to be clever, because that is why I hired you. But I don't expect you to know the human body inside and out. I don't expect you to know how to break someone from the outside in, which points of pressure will send someone into a twitching, spasming mess of pleasure..."

She shoves the showerhead into its' place on the wall. "I expect to find your limits, and I expect to exceed them. If you perform above expectations... we'll see what happens."

 

He lowers his head so that the scalding water runs over his face and saves him from talking, for a few seconds. She's terrifying.

So is her boyfriend, from the sound of it. And that's the ghost that she wants... that she wants to put in him, the crazy torture boyfriend. It makes him shudder a little to think about it, that deeper violation, being... being taken and used, with no say about it at all.

"... does it matter if I'm clever? Because it sounds like you just want a body to carve open and put your boyfriend in. Why the f-- ... why would the mind matter for that?"

He stares at his heat-reddened knees, bracing for her rage.

 

"That information is need to know only."

There's a click of a cap being opened, and fingers push into his hair. "You don't need to know. You just need to know you are here and exist at my leisure. Understood?"

 

He shudders at the touch, the contrast between the burning water and her grave-chilled fingers. It's an uncomfortably intimate gesture, like he's some kind of doll, an object that can't act for itself.

"... Understood," he says softly.

 

"It had better be." She reaches over and flips the water flow to the spout, ceasing the showerhead's spray. "Eyes shut, unless you want to cry for me."

 

He squeezes his eyes shut obediently, curling tighter into his miserable ball.

He wants to say, you don't get clever by not asking questions. He wants to say, I think I need to know, given that it's my fucking body you want to tear open and shove a ghost into, my body you want to torture and play with.

But he's not stupid enough to say any of that.

 

Her touch gentles a bit, once she shuts the water off, turning into a rhythmic pattern of motion - circular scrubbing here, then there, running of fingers through hair pulling him up so she can soap up the rest of his body... treating him far less like a person, and far more like a doll, or some kind of dog.

 

He stays still and compliant in her hands, letting himself be moved and used, breath catching when she touches more sensitive skin. His hands are clenched into fists again, eyes squeezed shut. Just... just stop...

But there are so many worse things she could be doing. So he won't complain.

 

She rinses him clean, sighing, her face resting against his neck.

Her hands slowly start trailing up his sides again, nails light on his skin, exploring his body as she works her fingers up, dancing across his chest, his throat, a light pull of a nail across his throat, up his cheeks, gripping his face as she presses her face against wet hair, fingers sliding up to toy with his lips.

Then there's a bright point of pain in his lower lip, like ice shot through his skin, contrasting sharply with the heat of his own blood.

 

It's better than when she acts businesslike, but it makes him feel even more owned, studied, like an exhibit in the zoo. She just wants to test his reactions, like a science experiment.

That doesn't stop him from reacting, soft gasps and shifts as when her nails threaten his flesh, when her hands grip and claim him. He's half-hard again by the time she works her way up to his face, eyes still closed.

He startles at the stab, making a soft, agonized noise as his eyes fly open. What the fuck?