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Introduction:

These are part of a collection of stories that I occasionally send my boyfriend.

My boyfriend is a dominant. I am not a submissive by nature, but I would rather be one in the bedroom.
It was cold. It had snowed all night and the little town was all snowed in. The pretty cottage she was staying in looked gorgeous, straight out of a postcard with eaves dripping with snow and the twinkling fairy lights which the owner had let remain long past Christmas. She was happy to find such a lovely place to stay and a considerate host. The only worry now was that her host (the owner of the house) was stuck in the city and could not get back to his house until the snowstorm dies down.

She was home alone… in a strangers home. At least it was well-stocked. She went about tidying the place up for something to do. He had given her the larger bedroom… she snuggled up under the fluffy blanket for a while, but she was too nervous to fall asleep. It was only afternoon but it was dark outside, the snowstorm didn’t seem like abating any time soon. The phone in the kitchen rang for a few seconds and fell silent before she could get out of bed. Now, the phone besides her bed started ringing. She almost jumped out of her skin. It was him. He had called to ask if she was ok. Of course, she was ok… she wasn’t the one stuck and unable to get home. Well. In a way she was… but that was incidental. He told her about where she could find stuff around his kitchen to fix herself some lunch and dinner. He even told her about the little bar he had which she could use if she wanted. She thanked him and hoped he could get back home soon. She did like his company, he was funny and sweet. She was comfortable around him. In spite of all her friends warning about the dangers of couch-surfing, she had taken the plunge. This was her first time and she had tried to find a family or a woman to put up with but the only available one was this guy. And truth was that she had loved the cottage in the display picture. The fact that the owner was cute was honestly not lost on her. She had not informed her boyfriend about the trip. After he convinced her that he was perfectly fine and was staying over at his friend’s place, which he pointed out was a guy, she hung up the phone. She got out of the bed and thought of fixing herself a cup of hot chocolate.

She was rummaging through the pantry to find the tin of drinking chocolate when the power went out. The kitchen window had a awning that stretched out and formed a sort of back porch and on this stormy afternoon it was blocking more light than it was letting in. She found the chocolate and quickly made herself a hot cup thanking her stars that the stove wasn’t electric. The heater was, and that was a problem. There was a fireplace in the area that was both the lounge and dining, but it looked unused. Single men didn’t find fireplaces romantic enough maybe. She did not know much about getting a fireplace working, and the house was losing heat steadily. She looked around the kitchen and the car porch. The car porch was open and she didn’t want to step out of the house until it was absolutely necessary. Well, it was now. The only place there could be firewood was in the shed behind the house, it was a shed because he told her it was. To her it looked like an oversized kennel. She figured it would be better to go out and check while it was still light outside. As always, she was under equipped for the cold.

She managed to find a pair of gloves in his closet and even borrowed an extra jacket because hers was a joke. By the time she stepped out the quality of light was feeble and fading fast. She opened the backdoor and made a dash to the shed. She hadn’t thought that it may be locked but the padlock on the door was hanging open. Great! She was short enough to fit in without crouching but this would definitely be too low for him. The place stank. In one corner was a rack with cut logs neatly stacked and a machete hanging from its corner. She prayed there would be no spiders when she picked the logs up and clutched them to her chest. As she dashed back, she kicked the door of the shed shut. She didn’t want some wild animal sheltering in there... not when she was alone here. He had told her that sometimes wolves ventured close to the cottages that bordered the woods, and his backyard opened right into the woods. This was one of the reasons the cottage had appealed to her. Back inside, she managed to start up a fire with the logs and some crumbled newspapers. Her hot chocolate had turned cold and she poured it into a saucepan and heated it over the fire in the fireplace instead of on the stove. It was too cold in the kitchen.

With the fireplace in disuse, the armchairs were turned away from it and towards the picture window. The picture right now was all grey and black. It was already dark and with no electricity in the town, the darkness settled heavily. She turned one of the chairs around to face the fire. She wanted company... she might have even been slightly spooked. She could call him, she had his and his friend's numbers. But, if she told him about the power outage, he might worry. She tried to analyse him in her head for want of something to do. Her friends were paranoid. This wasn’t that bad. The snowstorm was, but it was a freak incident. He was sweet. Even at that moment yesterday when she got out of the bath and was in her bathrobe… she had forgotten to close the bedroom door and he’d just walked in to give her a blanket. She turned around suddenly and the bathrobe fell open. He averted his eyes quickly and muttered a sorry and almost scooted away closing the door behind him. She almost died of embarrassment but he didn’t mention it later, in fact it was like it never happened. So yeah… her friends were indeed paranoid.

She decided to text her boyfriend. They chatted on WhatsApp a bit... she told him that she was in Sweden. She did not mention anything about couch-surfing or the cute guy with a cute cottage or the power outage and her current situation.

She needed to conserve the charge on her phone and the mini-router she'd picked up in the town. There was no telling when the power would be back. She needed to talk to someone though. She gave her boyfriend the number to the landline in the cottage hoping it won’t be the one in the kitchen. It wasn’t. It was the one in her bedroom. She realised that it was the only other phone. Fortunately, it was a cordless. The time was 7 PM... and that meant it was 9 PM for the boyfriend. It was a Thursday night and he was free to stay up and keep her company over the phone. Being alone in the cottage with the dark weather outside was making her horny. She kept teasing him with ‘what if’ scenarios involving other men. She knew it would piss him off but she wanted him to get a little worked up. He never touched her... they did not have a physical relationship. She had only her imagination and occasionally a vibrating toothbrush.

He warned her the conversation wouldn’t end well for her. She knew it would be forgotten soon enough. Unexpectedly, he told her to take her panties off. She told him that for all he knew she could be in a public place. He reminded her that he had called on a landline, and the conversation until then wasn’t something she'd have had in a public place. She was in a dilemma now, she didn’t want to tell him where she was because then her current situation would be revealed and it would worry him needlessly and on the other hand, it was too cold to strip down. She thought at first that she'd pretend that she'd taken her panties off, but that would never work. He'd know she was lying and wherever this conversation was going now, it would definitely end up someplace bad. So she asked him to hold on and she went back to her bedroom stumbling along the way in the firelight and grabbed her thick woolly blanket. With that on the armchair, she stripped down completely (knowing that he’d want that next) and then wrapped herself in the blanket. He told her to touch herself, slowly at first... she did. Then he guided her hand with his whispers over her body. She was getting really wet. At his command, her hand had returned between her legs and her middle finger was just about to be plunged in... her eyes were closed and her other senses were heightened, she thought she heard something. Something over the sound of the howling wind outside.

It sounded like a cough… but it was hard to tell with the sounds outside. She had to focus and she couldn’t with him telling her to finger herself. She shushed him… and blurted out, “I think there’s someone in the house… hang up, I will call you back.” Did she just say that there was someone in the house? What house? Where the hell is she? He was worried now, but she had cut the call. He messaged her if all was ok. She didn’t see the message. He tried calling back but got only a dial tone.

She stood up and faced the picture window. The firelight reflected on the window panes and she saw herself silhouetted. That’s when she remembered that she was naked. She pulled the blanket off the armchair and wrapped it around. This time she clearly heard a howl. It wasn’t the wind. With the wind and snow, it was hard to make out the distance or direction of the sound. She decided to go to her room and shut herself in. A thought crossed her mind and she froze mid-step. She had kicked the shed’s door shut, but had she closed the back door of the house. She didn’t want to enter the kitchen, but she knew she had to. The firelight did not reach all the way to the kitchen and she cursed herself for not even thinking about looking for a torch, a candle anything. In her panic she hadn’t even picked up her phone from the side table by her chair. She was about to turn back when she thought she heard a click of some sort, behind her, in the direction of the living room. Without thinking she rushed into the kitchen. Sure enough she had left the door ajar. She pushed to close it but it seemed stuck. That explained why it hadn’t banged shut in the wind. She opened the door inward and something came loose from under the door. She groped around for it on the floor and realised it was a chip of wood that must have fallen off when she carried the firewood in. She kicked it away and shut the door.

While trying to solve the door issue, she had forgotten about the sound she had heard. Stumbling around to get back to the living room, she suddenly remembered it. She had to get to her bedroom or at least to the chair where her clothes and phone were.

He had said that he will try and make it back, something about getting to a nearby shortcut and walking it out to the house. He’d said it was doable and he would if she was scared. She was scared. Maybe she should call him. She needed the phone for that.

What other options did she have? The nearest neighbour was not too far, but there was a stretch of tree-lined road without streetlights. Not that it would have mattered now with the storm and power outage. But, she should have done the trek when there was daylight.

She felt like an eternity had passed but she still hadn’t stepped out of the kitchen. The cold had made her nipples hard and she was wet down there. The thought made her giggle. The fire in the living room was dying, there were just the glow of embers now and a weak flame that lit up only the hollow of the fireplace. She aimed for it and ran. She almost tripped over the armchair and fell face first onto it when someone grabbed her from the side. An arm wrapped around her waist. Her chest hit the cushioned arm of the chair and she was momentarily speechless. Before she could gather her senses, a hand clamped down on her mouth. The smell. She knew the scent but the horror of the moment kept the thought from crystallising.

The arm around her waist steadied her, with the other hand still clamped on her mouth. She tried to twist around, the arm crushed her against the body behind then it grabbed her left breast and squeezed hard. She heard a mocking voice, something in Swedish and then in English, “Easy!” It was muffled in the hair at the back of her neck. The arm around her slowly moved down to her crotch. She wanted to cry. She was already dripping wet. Fingers found her wet cunt and stopped. She was suddenly flipped around and lifted on to his shoulder. She was carried to the smaller bedroom. His bedroom. She was thrown on the bed and he was on her the next moment. It WAS him. He found a way to get back after all. Her friends were right, perhaps. With that realisation, it was like her will to fight back drained away. She lay back silently while he pinned her arms above her and circled her breasts with his tongue, nipping at her nipples which were hard from the cold. She made a week attempt to twist away and was rewarded with a slap. He kissed her lips. He whispered to her that he would fuck her hard and bit down on her lip. The sudden pain made her want to fight back. She squirmed and tried to get out from under him. He gripped her hips with his thighs and then suddenly, she heard the snap of a knife. His switch-blade, the carved one he had bought from India. He nicked her under her collar bone, a drop of blood beaded up and he licked it off. She whimpered as he scratched a thin red line between her breasts. Then he pushed the point of the knife against her right nipple drawing blood and then sucking it. She pleaded, whimpering, whispering for him to stop. He brought the knife to the base of her throat and held it there firm, the blade straining against her skin. He told her to spread her legs, and he got off her, the blade still pressed to her throat. She did as she was told. His hand groped her cunt and he taunted her about her wetness and how he didn’t have to get her ready. He got back on the bed, and with one swift motion he was inside her, spearing her in spite her wetness. She lost her virginity finally and may well lose her life now. Each time he thrust in the blade cut deep into the skin of her throat, and the twin pain tearing through her… the fires inside her cunt and at her throat made her pass out.

When she woke up, he was lying on top of her. She tried to move but he was heavy. She could barely see anything. It was still dark and windy outside and the power wasn’t back. She slowly rolled him away, dreading the moment he would wake up. He didn’t. He seemed to be in deep sleep. She wanted to get out and run, call for help. She couldn’t bear the thought of another moment in the house. Her clothes were in her bedroom, but she was panicking and not thinking. She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around and stumbled out of the room. She was disoriented. She had to get her phone. She was sobbing hard. She could barely walk. She thought she heard him stir in the room. She forgot all about the phone and sobbing hard managed to find the front door which was just five steps away from his room. She almost fell out of the house onto the porch. Gathering the blanket around she stumbled and ran. The wind froze her even through the blanket. She ran blindly, barefoot until she felt her toes would fall off from the cold. She hadn’t passed a single house. She had run through some vegetation and she had no idea where she was. She was wet and scared and had enough of Sweden.

The cop had stepped out of his car to clear away the stubborn snow that had piled up on his windscreen while he was having a hot cup of coffee by the roadside. That’s when he saw her, she just appeared out of the woods. She was draped in a woollen blanket and she almost fell on the car. By the faint glow of the streetlight a few yards away he could make out that she was Indian or a Latina. He ran around the car to catch her before she fell down. His hands came away wet when he touched her blanket. Blood. Her blanket was soaked in blood. He tried to talk to her. He did not really understand English but he understood when she said she wanted help. He could see that. He could also see that she was naked under the blanket. His partner who had also stepped out if the car to pee returned to see him wildly gesticulating to a bloody, naked Indian woman in a woollen cape. God, the amount of blood. He turned to his partner and said something.

She saw the cop car and ran towards it and almost crashed on it. Damn! The cop doesn’t speak English. Was he staring at her breasts? Couldn’t he see she was bleeding like hell and needed help. She screamed at him for help. He kept saying something which she figured was a question but she had no clue what he was asking. Another cop walked up to them. The first cop told him something. The second cop turned to her and asked in broken English where she came from and why she was covered in blood. The first cop took a jacket from inside the car and handed it to her. She took it but she would have to drop the blanket to wear it and she wasn’t getting anymore naked than she had to in front of these guys. She pointed out in the general direction of the cottage. She blurted out about the rape and that she was hurt and needed to get to a hospital. But first, she needed her passport and phone which were both in the cottage. There is something weird about the cops. She can’t place a finger on it. The second cop makes her get into the back of the car, a little too eagerly.

The cops talk agitatedly in Swedish. She understands that ‘blod’ is blood. Yes, she is bleeding. Haven’t these cops seen blood before?

On the ride she notices that the lights are on in the houses they pass by, at least in a few of them. The power must be back. As they cross the tree-lined stretch of lightless road she realises that she had instinctively ran in the opposite direction of that stretch. They reach the cottage. Picture perfect even in this dying storm. The lights are still out in the cottage. The cops park right outside the driveway and walk towards the house. She is terrified to get out but she figures she would feel safer with the men than alone in the car. She gingerly steps out. The door is open… as she must have left it. Strange, she thinks… why didn’t the lights come on when the power came back?

The cops take out their guns and enter the living room. She points to his bedroom and tells them that he had attacked her in that room. She starts sobbing again, reliving the pain and the fear. The second cop stays back to comfort her while the first one pushes the door open. From where she is standing she can see him sleeping.

The cop opens the door to the bedroom which is lightly ajar and almost gags. The sight in front of him, lit up by his torch beam, is a nightmare. On the bed, a man lies naked, tied to the bedpost. His chest has been split in the centre. His right nipple gouged out. His throat is slit and he has been sliced open at the collar bone. The bed is soaked with blood and it is dripping on to the floor.

Outside, she tells the second cop how he cut her with his switch-blade. And how he held her down and raped her. The second cop shouts out in Swedish to the first about the switchblade. He hadn’t seen the body. And he warns his partner that the rapist might still be in the house. She is sitting on the armchair now with the cop next to her. He looks up to see the deathly pale face of his partner.

She hears him say something about someone being dead. The two cops move back to the bedroom and she gets up to follow. The second cop tells her to stay back. But she follows them anyway. When she looks in she can’t believe what she sees. The crisscrossing of the torch beams reveal a lot of blood. Could she have bled so much and still survived. She takes a step back and lets the blanket & jacket fall off her. She looks down at herself, all covered in blood. She knows she was cut but there was no line between her breasts. No nick under her collar bone, nor was her throat cut. How did all that blood come to be on her? And then she sees him. And she faints.

She wakes up and sees that the lights are back on and there are a lot of people in the house. Someone has cleaned her up and she has on a hospital gown. She tries to get up and a nurse comes to her and tells her to lie back on the stretcher. The nurse speaks English. She tells her that she had a few bruises and cuts on her inner thighs and some vaginal bleeding but she is otherwise unharmed.

A man in a suit comes up to her and the nurse helps her sit up. He asks her if she is feeling okay enough to talk. She tells him she is shaken but she can tell him whatever he wants to know. He asks her to narrate the events and she tells him everything that happened. Every last detail, including the vanished cuts on her body. The suited man hands her a glass of water and tells her to rest. He then returns with the switchblade and the machete. She looks at them both, she knows the switchblade but the machete is strangely familiar too. He explains to her that the switchblade did not have a drop of blood on it, but the machete was used to hack the guy up. She is confused. The man explains to her that she killed the guy. She starts crying and the nurse rushes back to her and gives the suited man a stern look. He apologises and tells her that he could explain. Most of her story was true… up until the attack on her and yes she was raped. But there were some discrepancies. There was no power-outage. Someone had cut the mains. That is what roused their suspicion. They searched the whole cottage for any clues because they did not believe she had executed such an elaborate plan.

That’s when they found the shed. The shed which she had opened to get firewood from. In the fading light she had not seen the horror inside. Pegged to one wall were rows of human heads. Women, mostly tourists who were reported missing.

The suited man tells her he would have killed her if she hadn’t. Somehow in the struggle that must have ensued she gained the upper hand, the part which her brain seems to have blocked out, and before he could use the machete on her she used it on him.

Her friends were right all along.
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