Part 8: The Reading Chair

Dominique left me there in the dark for what seemed like a very long time; in reality, it probably wasn't much more than an hour. Nevertheless, it was more than long enough to gain a horrifyingly clear preview of the aches and pains that would inevitably come from being crammed into this small space, for such a long time. Those aches and pains would only get worse. Much worse.

As I waited there in the dark, I could sense Alex looking down at me from someplace comfortable ... smiling. He's the architect of all this. This pain, this humiliation and degradation, this house, this hatch, Dominique -- they were all part of a carefully designed plan, a hideous fucking machine with one purpose: to take the darkest and most filthy fantasies from the rotten old man's brain--fantasies that have grown and festered in his deranged mind for a lifetime--and make them reality. At the heart of it all was a list which churned the gears of this dreadful machine forward. It was a series of daily tasks that Dominique must perform. One of those items thoughtfully suited one of Dominique's personal hobbies: her joy of reading.

When the lights turned on, and my eyes adjusted to Dominique standing there above me once again, I felt relieved, at least at first. She was dressed in pink cotton pajamas that looked comfortable and non-intimidating. She waved a thick book at me, with the cover strategically blocked by her fingers--she was embarrassed to reveal to me her rather cliche enjoyment of vampire literature.

"150 pages."

She paused and smiled at me strangely after blurting that out, allowing me to puzzle over what that meant for several moments before explaining.

"That's the minimum amount I have to read ... Each night." Her eyebrows raised as she continued. "Ever since I was a little girl, reading has been a hobby of mine. It's how I've ended each day for as long as I can remember ... it's how I'll end each night here as well."

Dominique squat down next to me and brushed her fingers across my face.

"I don't usually read on the pot though." She giggled at my widening eyes awkwardly and bopped my face with the back of her book. "How 'bout we break in my new reading chair?"

Back at home, in the safety of my apartment, I'd fantasized about this moment too many times to count--Dominique sitting on my face--being forced to endure the weight of her perfect body as she pressed unmercifully into my face. Now that it was about to happen for real though, my mind went strangely numb. I didn't really have enough time to properly get excited ... and the reality of it was suddenly unnerving as I realized there'd be nothing under my head to cushion it from the hard surface of the hatch door. This was going to fucking hurt!

"My old chair was leather." She continued, examining the softness of my cheeks with her fingers teasingly. "--the one back in my old apartment. It used to be nice and firm. Over time though ... after sitting on it enough..." She pressed the tip of my nose with the palm of her hand. " ... it got all smashed in."

She turned my head so that my eyes were pointed away and my ear cupped the wooden hatch. I could hear the elastic of her underwear snap against her thighs as she tugged them down. This is it! This is going to fucking happen now! I took in a deep anxious breath and watched the shadow surrounding me grow darker...

OH FUCK!

My anticipation was brutally replaced with unbearable pain as her weight came down onto the side of my face, crushing me into the hard wooden planks of the hatch door. I could hear the cartilage in my ear snap as she experimented with a few different positions before finally settling directly over my temple.

Despite being firmly sandwiched between her and the wooden hatch door, I could still hear the faint sound of her sharp voice scolding me from above. She lifted herself off of me briefly to tell me to "Shut the fuck up" and then bounced back down on top of me with enough force that I thought my skull was surely going to split right open!