Page 33 of Dear Owen

There he was, the boy who'd turned my life into a nightmare, handcuffed to the same pipe he'd once chained me to. The sight of him there, at my mercy, sent a jolt of satisfaction through me. He looked up as I entered, his eyes bright with a sick sort of excitement.

"Kira," he breathed, his voice trembling with anticipation. "I knew you'd come."

I didn't respond. Instead, I walked over to him, my steps measured and deliberate. I examined the handcuffs, ensuring they were secure. I didn't want him squirming free at the last moment. Next to him laid a ball gag, a blindfold, a knife, and earplugs. I picked up the ball gag, the material rough against my fingertips, and I remembered the way the ring gag had pried my mouth. I remembered the blindfold, the way it had plunged me into darkness, and the earphones, the way they had isolated me in a world of loud music and sensation.

With a sense of grim determination, I fitted the gag into Owen's mouth, feeling a twisted sense of justice as he struggled to adjust to the intrusion. I secured the blindfold over his eyes, cutting off his line of sight, and I pushed the earplugs into his ears, severing his connection to the outside world.

For a moment, I just stood there, looking down at him, bound and helpless. This was the boy who had tormented me, who had taken pleasure in my pain. And now, he was offering himself up to me, believing that this would somehow balance the scales, that this would somehow make things right between us.

But it wouldn't. Nothing could erase what he'd done. No amount of revenge could undo the damage.

I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving him there in the darkness, alone with his thoughts and his guilt. The sound of my footsteps echoed in the empty room, a haunting reminder of the time he'd left me there, at his mercy.

I emerged from the basement into the chill of the evening air, the taste of freedom sharp and sweet on my tongue. I got into my car and started the engine, the familiar hum a comforting presence in the chaos of my thoughts. I drove without really seeing the road, my mind a whirlwind of emotion.

It wasn't until I found myself parked outside a sex shop that I realized where I was headed. I sat there for a moment, my heart pounding, my palms sweaty. I'd never been to a place like this before, had never had a reason to. But things were different now. I was different now.

I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, the neon lights of the shop casting a lurid glow on the pavement. I pushed open the door and stepped inside, the scent of leather and lube heavy in the air. The shop was a maze of shelves and displays, filled with items I couldn't even begin to understand.

A young woman with purple hair and a nose ring approached me, her expression friendly and non-judgmental. "Can I help you find anything?" she asked, her voice soft and melodic.

I nodded, my throat tight with nerves. "I need... I need something to help me take control," I said, the words feeling strange and foreign on my tongue.

The woman smiled, her eyes understanding. "I think I can help with that," she said, leading me deeper into the labyrinth of the shop.

The weight of the bag on my arm felt like a badge of honor as I descended the stairs once more. My heart thrummed with anticipation, a stark contrast to the fear that had previously gripped me in this place. I was no longer the helpless girl cowering in the dark. I was stronger now, braver. I was in control.

The basement was just as I'd left it, the air heavy with the musk of Owen's helplessness. I approached him slowly, taking in the sight of him. The boy who had once seemed so powerful was now reduced to this: drooling around the ball gag, his body wracked with sobs that echoed off the cold, concrete walls. I watched him for a moment, feeling a surge of power course through me. It was intoxicating, this sense of dominance, but it was tempered by the reminder of why I was here, of the pain he'd caused me.

I reached for the knife he'd left beside him, the blade glinting menacingly in the dim light. Owen jumped as I cut away his clothes, the fabric falling away to reveal his bare skin. He melted into the air mattress the moment he realized it was me, his body going slack with relief—or perhaps it was resignation.

I rolled him onto his stomach, his arms twisted awkwardly above his head, his body exposed and vulnerable. I stepped back for a moment, taking in the sight of him like this. Naked, bound, and at my mercy. It was a moment I wanted to savor, to imprint on my memory. This was my revenge, my retribution for all the ways he'd hurt me.

The harness and dildo felt foreign in my hands as I held them up, the silicone cool against my skin. I fastened the harness around my hips, adjusting the straps so that it fit snugly over my clothes. I looked down at Owen, his body trembling with anticipation—or was it fear? I couldn't tell, and honestly, I wasn't sure I cared.

I picked up the bottle of lube, turning it over in my hands. I imagined the slickness of it, the way it would ease the passage of the dildo into Owen's body. But then I thought better of it. This wasn't about pleasure—not for him, at least. I wanted him to feel discomfort, to understand just a fraction of the pain he'd inflicted on me.

I spat on the dildo, the saliva glistening briefly before beginning to dry. It wasn't much, but he didn’t deserve the comfort and I wasn’t heartless to leave him completely without. I positioned myself behind him, the head of the dildo nudging against his entrance. I placed my hands on his hips, feeling the tension in his body, the way he seemed to hold his breath.

And then, with one swift motion, I thrust forward, driving the dildo into him. He gasped, a strangled sound that was muffled by the gag. His body tensed, his muscles clenching around the intrusion. I could feel the power dynamic shifting between us, the balance of control tipping in my favor.

Thirty

Pain.That was the first thing I registered, a sharp, unyielding burn that felt like it was splitting me open. I'd always prided myself on being in control, on being the one who administered pain, not the one receiving it. But now, as Kira thrust into me with the harness, I understood why anal sex was feared. It was the ultimate loss of control, a surrender that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

She hadn't used enough lube—just spit that did nothing to ease the passage of the toy. Each push forward was a battle of wills, my body reluctantly yielding to her insistent advance. The initial shock wave of discomfort rippled through me, and I couldn't help but groan, the sound muffled by the gag in my mouth.

I'd always thought of myself as invincible, but in that moment, I was helpless, exposed in a way I'd never allowed myself to be before. It was a humbling experience, one that stripped away the layers of dominance I'd always worn like armor. The pain was intense, a fiery ache that seemed to consume me, but there was something else there too—a flicker of something darkly pleasurable that I couldn't quite ignore.

Kira's rhythm was relentless, each stroke of her hips sending a jolt of sensation through me. The discomfort was still there, but it was beginning to morph into something else entirely. When she shifted her angle and hit my prostate, the sensation was so intense, so overwhelmingly good that I bucked back against her instinctively, needing more despite the pain.

She paused, her body tensing above me, and I knew she felt it too—the change in the dynamic between us. I was no longer just her victim; I was a participant in this twisted dance of power and pleasure. She adjusted her grip, lifting her leg to change the angle, and then she was fucking me with a precision that was almost cruel. Every thrust hit that sweet spot inside me, and despite the initial agony, I found myself spiraling towards an orgasm that I hadn't expected, hadn't thought I deserved.

My cock hardened, betraying my body's response to the relentless stimulation. Endorphins flooded my system, a drug more potent than any I'd ever taken. The pain and the pleasure became indistinguishable from one another, a maelstrom of sensation that dragged me under and refused to let go.

And then it happened. The world shattered around me as I came harder than I ever had before, my body convulsing beneath Kira's as I rode the waves of my release. I was dimly aware of the tears streaming down my face, the salty tang mingling with the taste of the gag. I was crying, but I wasn't sure why. Was it the pain, the pleasure, or the realization that I'd finally felt Kira's lips on my skin again from the gentle kiss on my back?

The aftershocks of my orgasm were still pulsing through me when she pulled out, the absence of the toy leaving me feeling strangely empty. I lay there, panting, trying to process what had just happened. I had orgasmed without my cock even being touched, while in pain, and I didn't know how to feel about it.

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