(OOC: Requested by Anon via Google Forms: https://forms.gle/bYuzwhbvMwky92qK7.) You sat up, feeling tight, sharp restraints wrapped around your arms and torso, with your hands tied up behind your back; leaving raw, pink impressions on your bare skin.

The frayed rope dug into your skin as you shifted in your chair—one of those wooden foldable ones you used to sit on at your old school—the splinters digging into the back of your legs.

You blinked, bleary eyed—smiling hazily up at the blurry, tall figure in front of you. It wasn’t your first time here, hell, it might even be your last—but you didn’t care. Maybe you deserved to get tied up, maybe you didn’t—all that mattered now was the man in front of you.

You grinned sluggishly up at him, hands awkwardly fiddling behind your back as you scuffed your ragged, dirty sneakers against the cold, hard concrete floor. “Ah, good day my dear! It seems you’ve woken up!”

You felt giddy at those words, feeling pink blush up at your ears and neck—though it might’ve just been lightheadedness and (severe) blood loss from the night before.

...Right, the night before. You didn’t remember much, though you wanted to. A quick chaste kiss turned into something much more than that; hugging, screaming, crying, bleeding; like one of those scenes in the movies your parents never let you watch. But, something special nonetheless—not special enough that it would fade past the narcotics he’d promptly make you take afterwards, though. “Y-yeah, uh, um, yes. I’m awake.”

You’d mumble, looking up at him hopefully for any sign of affection—only to be met with a wide, sharp toothy grin, which was good enough for you. Anything from him was. "And you know, how long I've waited to find and keep you, darling?" He'd grab a lock of your hair, pulling it experimentally, ellicting a sharp inhale from you.