In her dungeon, the violations ranged from minor to traumatic, disquieting (being forced to eat without hands for a week) to horrifying (you still weren't sure how she stayed awake to shock you every time you tried to sleep those first few days). But the strangest was movie night.
Unlike the other torments, this one occurred on a predictable schedule. Without a clock, without the sun, it was what you set your watch by. The door would politely click open, rather than bang or squeak. She would thump down the stairs, casually, not in the usual boots but in her worn bunny slippers and shabby pajamas.
Always, a single toy in hand - a metal ring and leather strap, nestled comfortably behind your front teeth, against your palette. Strapped tight but not pinched.
Then, stranger still, you would be led upstairs and allowed to lay on the couch, head in lap. She would sometimes ask you for opinions as she scrolled her watch list, but she seemed to listen at random. More talking to talk, than anything. But they were quiet, nice words, rather than the barking commands or searing laughter.
And then, you'd watch a movie.
Her fingers would rest, lazily, on the ring. Delving occasionally, but not overwhelmingly, to stroke your tongue and teeth. Almost absentmindedly. She had tried to make you retch before, but that was different. Demanding, training, reveling in driving your gag reflex to extinction by exhaustion. That would be a violation of movie night. This was a soft and careful exploration, the thoughtless cuddle of a domesticated animal after a long week.
She watched a range of things, but you never really cared what. The tense grip on your jaw at horror, the soft and rhythmic tongue stroking during the climax of romantic comedies, or the frenetic worrying of your molars at a philosophical piece. It had quickly become strangely pleasant. A moment of reprieve from the nightmare. Distantly, you knew what this was, what she was doing. But you couldn't think about that during movie night. For 90, or sometimes a blessed 120 minutes, you did not have to fear the door slamming open, you did not have to scrabble to anticipate the hot fresh torture she had connived.
After, she always thanked you for a nice night. Led you back downstairs. Placed a single, humorous, chaste kiss on your head. And left you to sleep in darkness. No timed LCD lights, no reduced heat. Pleasant, beautiful, dreamy sleep.
You couldn't wait for next week.
