Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - an excellent presentation, a straight flight to Abuja, presentation, skinny jeans and very tight shirts, Russian clients, bruises and bloody wounds, about how ecstatic the sex was, little sex dungeon, torturous images appeared inside her head.
I really should have known better. Who would blame a 23-year-old who thought he was having the time of his life.
The covers were silk and purple while the pillows were as soft as baby skin. I turned and cuddled the duvet. My eyes were half open when she walked into the room stark naked. “Ah! I see you are awake!” she said with a slur to her words because of her Russian accent. “Wall-cam to Russia!” she began dramatically, swirling and gesticulating as she spoke about her home. I thought I was in a dream. She came closer and pulled me to my feet kissing me passionately. She ordered her guard to bring me food while she let me lay on the bed. Her hands caressed my body while her eyes willed me to respond. I didn’t respond to her touch because I was tired from the long trip. Her countenance changed but she didn’t say anything; instead, she served me some food and walked away.
That was the last time I saw the luxurious comfort of a bed. I was put in a small dark room with a single bunk bed. The only time I was allowed out was when Mrs Vladimir wanted to satisfy her lust. The softness and gentleness in her voice were all gone. She would shove me to the ground and hit me repeated with a police baton before having her way. Often times, I was locked up in the “THE SANCTUARY” with her for long hours. The sanctuary was her little sex dungeon. The room had no bed or any place of comfort; instead, belts, whips and different costumes hung on the wall from corner to corner. Her favourite was the handcuff which she often used to secure me to a pole before beating me mercilessly while she moaned in pleasure. If I resisted in any way, she would call her guards to beat me up and feed me with drugs until I was too nub to resist her. I did despicable things with her to avoid her wrath. I was simply her sex slave.
I should have guessed her sexual abnormality because of how aggressive she became whenever we were having sex back in Abuja. Although I felt a bit concerned, I just thought she was really crazy about my moves. Mrs Vladimir was a sick woman who needed help and I was her unfortunate victim with no hope of escape.
I lost a lot of weight and all the biceps I frequently showed off in handless shirts and fitted T-shirts were all shrunken. I was feed enough to keep me alive and active for my host. These were the darkest days of my life. I wished for death but it was as if I was doomed to live for eternity.
I was too blinded by material things and money. My thoughts were clouded with the desire to show off my status and appear successful to my peers.
I am too tired to think or write…. I am overwhelmed.
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