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1
Clang.
That is the sound of a human in captivity.
I’ve heard it a thousand times before, but it never signified my own capture. How many times have I locked people away? How many times have I closed the door on their wide eyes and left them to suffer the consequences of their actions? I never really gave it too much thought before now. I always assumed I was doing the right thing.
Now I’m starting to wonder if I’ve ever done the right thing. This time, I am on the wrong side of the door. This time, I am the one who has run afoul of authorities who have declared themselves to have dominion over me whether or not I agree it it. In this scenario, I am no officer of the law. I am a rebellious captive who will be broken to the will of a force greater than me.
I am in trouble.
The shackles around my wrists are metal and familiar. What’s less familiar is the chain attached to the D ring attached to the wall, all of it inexorably, and perhaps even inevitably, attached to me.
Was there any other way for this to end?
Here I am, a female cop in her own cuffs. They make a lot of independent cinema about this very predicament. Much like the scenes in those many independent short films, I find myself in a state of vulnerable undress and at the mercy of an inhuman creature. I am naked. Exposed. There is no comfortable position I can assume, nothing that gives me any kind of modesty. I am on the floor, naked with my legs splayed for comfort.
The creature who put me here has not abandoned me to captivity the way I would. He is standing over me, his powerfully strange frame casting a monstrous shadow over me. Red eyes roam my body. My belly seems to be swelling up. Does terror make you retain water?
“You have to let me out.” I try begging, though I know it will not work. It never worked on me. Not any of the times people pleaded to be let go.
“There’s no out,” he drawls. “Not from here. This place was designed to keepmonstersin. You are only human. You have no chance of escape.”
“That’s why I’maskingyou to let me out, asshole.”
That was not polite, or diplomatic. I find it very difficult to maintain my temper in a situation like this. I’m not good at appeasing people — or nightmarish chimera beasts, for that matter.
“You always were a bad girl. Never wanted to behave yourself,” he purrs intimately. I feel parts of my body tightening with fear and lust. Nothing has been the same since I became this creature’s captive. I don’t recognize myself, or my desires.
“I’m an NYPD detective!”
“You think that automatically makes you a force for good?”
“Of course not, but I did my best. I got more than one monster off the streets.”
He chuckles. “You count me among those monsters, don’t you.”
I jangle my chains. “Wouldn’t you? Hard to consider you a good guy when this is what you do to me after I helped you.”
He leans down toward me, and unfurls an appendage unrecognizable to most humans. We do not have these soft, unfurling, agile parts.
“You tried to run away. I can’t allow that. I want you, and I intend to keep you. Do you understand that, detective? You belong to me. Every inch of you. Every piece of you. Every breath, every scream, every one of your delicious orgasms. Mine.”
He is toying with me, soft, strange tendrils finding the most intimate and wet parts of me. I want to resist him. I tell myself I do, anyway. But I cannot. He is horrendously large, and I am only human. I am not made to resist this kind of power and alacrity of seduction. He has mapped my body and made it his own. He has found every secret spot capable of sending traitorous pleasure to the core of me, and he is hitting each of them in order, leaving me to twist against my cuffs as he seduces and dominates me in equal measure.
I scream in climax and hopelessness entwined, a shriek of release and of despair. It is a sound that excites my captor. He looms over me, the shadow of his great wings falling over me, his hair casting a curtain around our faces. I lose myself in his possessive gaze: eyes that hold no trace of humanity at all and yet still captivate me entirely.
I wish I could blame this all on the monster who now holds me captive, but in the final analysis, it was my actions that brought me to this point, a series of strange events and even odder decisions, all mixed up in a milieu of murder.
* * *
Aweek or so ago…
It is my thirty-third birthday, and I am standing over a mutilated corpse.
This is not the worst birthday I’ve had.
“Do you think that’s appropriate, detective?”
