she tucks your hair behind your ear, her other hand carefully wrapped around the side of your face. she meets your eyes with an unusually warm expression, light and loving in a way you don't think you've ever seen her. you try to avert her eyes, squirming under the unwavering gaze she's pointed at you.
properly kneeling down, she moves her hands to cup your cheeks as she plants a kiss on your forehead. you can feel her smiling through it before she pulls away and starts giggling like a school girl. the display is almost endearing, a thought you kick yourself for having. her face softens further as her eyes flicker from your confused eyes down to your pursed lips. the air feels romantic and intimate despite the circumstances, the sticky sound of duct tape wrapped around your wrists like some sort of equivalent to crickets on a summer evening. when she leans in to kiss you, you're so stunned by the lack of forcefulness that you let it happen without a fight.
instead, the kiss is gentle and sweet, slow as she slips her tongue between your lips. she licks a stripe against your teeth, attempting to prod between them, but you don't let her. the shock has waned and suddenly you feel nauseous as your head fills with questions about what angle she must be working, why she's chosen to treat you like this, what she must be getting out of it. her previous abuse had always hurt you, made you angry and spit venom, but this...this was violating.
when she finally pulls back, one hand moves towards her own mouth to away wipe the lingering spit. she hums for a minute, lets her other hand move up into your hair, delicately running her fingers through it.
"you taste dirty," is all she rasps out before she takes a handful of hair and tightens her grip enough to make it hurt.
you whimper quietly as she begins to stand, pulling you up from the concrete floor with her. she doesn't let you walk, really, just drags you along behind her as she guides you towards another room. your feet scrape the floor lightly until something colder and smoother is underneath them.
she lets go of you once she's positioned you in the center of the new space, stepping around you towards a tub lined with soaps and lotion. the water comes on, disrupting your racing thoughts with a sound it feels like you haven't heard in ages. she turns to face you.
you're hardly wearing clothes as is. your bound hands fumble with your underwear, thumbs slipping in and out of your waistband, clumsy and out of practice. you feel like a little kid. her eyes never leave you, even as your underwear comes off and you stop fidgeting, growing frozen under her gaze. she struts forward to you so gracefully, even if the movement is hardly two full steps, and runs her fingers down your arms in a gesture that would be reassuring in any other context. she flashes a bright smile as she slips behind you. you hear the door shut, embarrassed with yourself for not even realizing it was open in the first place. her hands around your waist pull you from embarrassment to fear, her voice directing you to get into the bath she's drawn for you.
you have no idea what to expect as you step in, unsure of the water temperature, wary of the scent of body wash. you sink in slowly as the water covers more and more of your body, and you're pleasantly surprised to find it warm and soapy. she kneels beside you again, brandishing a knife and leaning over the rim. the sight of the knife terrifies you, images of your blood soaked body laying in the red tinted water, you feel yourself tense as your eyes start to dart around. she revels in this, adores it more than anything it seems. when she speaks, however, her voice is void of any sadistic pleasure.
"ohh honey, I'm not trying to scare you. this is just for those binds," she reassures you before slicing through the layers of duct tape in one easy motion.
she plucks the debris from the water and grabs a bottle, pouring its contents into her hand and twisting herself into a new position. she leans over you now, making you feel small and vulnerable and childish all over again. her coated hands meet your hair and she giggles at the way you whimper from the contact before she tuts at you in faux disappointment.
"no need to be so tense, you know. I'm just trying to take care of you. you should be acting grateful."
you nod your head and attempt to seem relaxed. she rinses away whatever she's lathered into your hair, pouring water over your head with a cup. you feel like a wounded animal, letting it all happen to you. another round of product in your hair, scrubbed in and washed out, before she opens a bottle of what you recognize to be body wash, drizzling some over a rag and turning it soapy. the panic returns to your eyes and you feel yourself start scooting further into the corner of the tub.
this doesn't deter her, as she simply grabs your sore wrist, pulling you in closer as her other hand guides the wash cloth to meet your back. her motions are delicate and soft, as precise as she is in her cruelty. she doesn't do any of her usual groping or fondling, taking you aback as you find yourself silently wishing the whole ordeal would shift into something more predictable. she lingers over every inch of your skin, tracing everything in repetitive patterns. she goes over your chest several times, touching your nipples so carefully you wonder if turning you on isn't really her intention. you feel sick about it. as the wash cloth moves between your legs you're on the verge of tears, but again she barely touches you. tears quietly streak down your face. the arousal does not subside when she places the the tag in the sink behind her. you just want this to be over. it *is* over you think, you've been cleaned and now she can take it away by bullying inside you and ruining your body again. she stands and you prepare for her to wrap you a scratchy towel and harshly rub you dry. but as you turn to look up towards her, you see she's instead holding a toothbrush, already prepared with a dollop of paste.
you do, slowly parting your lips and creaking open your mouth.
"wider. I've seen you do better."
she doesn't wait for you to try again, instead electing to grab your cheeks in one hand and pulling down your lower jaw. she coos at you over this, telling you how cute you look. she directs the toothbrush into your mouth, scrubbing along your lower incisors and moving along the row. while she does this, little comments on the shape and size of your teeth are mumbled under her breath. things about how sharp your canines are, how you must have had your wisdom teeth removed. she alternates her brushing to your top molars, working roughly throughout your mouth.
you're not sure if a full two minutes has passed when she pulls out and tells you to spit, but you don't care. she plunges her hand into the water of the bath and finds the drain. you lay motionless and await her direction. the towel she wraps you in is plush and comfortable, which you can't help be feel thankful for, especially as it seems to be the only coverage you get as you're walked back to where she keeps you. a kiss on the forehead again before she turns to leave without another word.
you feel dirtier than ever before.
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