Sunlight illuminated the heavy, metal box that encased his head. It’s January thirty-first, and Jane had been torturing him for thirty days now. Tied tightly to a metal chair in the center of a dark room with one beaming skylight, he felt very much at home with himself. His adversary had swiped him clean off the street of the New Year for no reason other than to have some “fun” with him; little did she know of his masochistic inclination. She had become aware of it after hearing suddle auditory indications of pleasure escape his mouth during their sessions. It’s actually quite amazing she hadn’t killed him by now. Jane usually kills her victims after a week or two.

This one, however, is different from all the others. Jeremy is twenty-three years old, two younger than Jane. He and She had developed a symbiotic relationship which ironically began with a selfish urge to quench a violent desire. After all the crocodile clips, ball-gags, sewing needles, duct tape, handcuffs, jumper cables, and millions of volts surging through his bruised, quivering, aching body, all he wishes is to see her face. The cold, heavy iron locked firmly around his head covers his eyes, obstructing all view of Jane.

January 3rd, “Will you tell me your name?”


It had been their only exchange of words. Jeremy had never been graced with a voice more beautiful than hers. He had never tasted food cooked so well. Jane feeds him by hand twice a day.

Jeremy is in love for the first time.

He hears the latch of a door and then a soft shut. The takk takk takk of Jane’s gentle, mysterious footsteps send him shivering with delight. Jeremy’s heartbeat picking up, he swallows a mouthful of bloody saliva. Jane, now standing inches in front of him, jingles a ring of keys beside his left ear. Goosebumps arise from his pale, tormented skin. She inserts a key into the shackles which bind his hands behind the chair. She turns the key and they fall to the stained concrete floor with a clank. Jane unlocks Jeremy’s mask and slowly lifts it off his face and places it on the floor beside her. After his eyes adjusted, he found Jane bent down at him, her face only inches from his. The initial eye contact paralyzed him briefly; his heart may have skipped a beat or two. Studying her white face, dark hair, and perfectly slender body, he decides he had never before met anyone more beautiful.

Without breaking eye contact, Jane stands up straight and backs away slowly. As Jeremy stands from his chair for the first time this year – the first time in a month – he attempts to step forward, but immediately stumbles to the floor. Distracted by Jane’s ensnaring gaze, and the unending pain shooting throughout his body, Jeremy had forgotten about the zip-ties which bound his numb ankles to the legs of the chair.

Lying on his stomach and propping himself up onto his forearms, Jeremy, with tears welling, peers up at Jane. She stares back with a grin on her face and plastic pity in her eyes.

“I’m only teasing you,” she giggles.

That was Jeremy’s last day.

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