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His car is parked two neighborhoods down, in front of a house currently up for sale. He’s jittery, anxious of what he was about to do in your home. His leg bounces on the brake of the car as he slips the picture of you out of his jacket pocket, this is what he wanted, this is what he needed. He loved your looks, your success, evident in the fact that you owned such a large home in a rich neighborhood. His little broken down car stuck out like a sore thumb, but was he was willing to take the chance of being caught in order to get closer to you. If he wanted to come back he would bring his step mother’s car, or his father’s car, or his delivery car maybe. But for right now, he wanted you and he was determined to get as close as he could today.

It was broad daylight and you were at work, he checked to make sure before showing up. Calling up your office where you work as a personal assistant for a very rich lawyer that pays you well, when you answered the phone he was relieved, asked to be transferred to some random extension and when you passed him to where he wanted to go he hung up. He leaned his head back against the headrest of his car, lifted your photo to his face and ran his thumb over your hair. It would be a long time before he got to see you in person, but he was a patient man, willing to wait for his heart's true desire. He holds his breath as he leans gathers up the courage to open his car door, step out into the sunny Seattle air and head out to the mouth of the neighborhood. Your house was only a five minute walk away, and as long as he kept his head down and kept himself composed he would have nothing to worry about.

He got your address from his work. Being a pizza delivery man it was easier than anyone would think. Once a month you ordered pizza to indulge yourself and treat your friends, and he tried his hardest to be the one to deliver it. Out of the six months he had known you he had personally come to your house five times: three times to deliver food, once after stealing your house key to learn where you hid your spare, and now. He had felt so accomplished, and you were none the wiser.

As he rounded the corner onto the main road he thought about how the two of you met, to him it was love at first sight, but to you it was just a simple interview. He was tired of the pizza, his boss yelling at him when he took too long to deliver food, he wanted something new, a nine to five job that would make him more money and would leave him feeling more fulfilled. You smiled brightly as you apologized for the inconvenience, you weren’t normally the person who did interviews but the person working in HR had called out and they didn’t want to cancel his interview. He told you it was quite alright, but kept to himself that your bright, beautiful smile had drawn him in instantly. He listened to you intently as you asked him the regular round of questions, he answered them all while staring deeply into your eyes. You told him you thought his name, Ben Solo, was very unique and that you liked it, he fell further and further in love with you. He told you about his fake, made up hobbies of writing poetry, you smiled and nodded your head, clearly into what he was saying. You didn’t know it, but he was imagining his life with you. And thus, his obsession with you was born.

You gave him your business card and told him you’d be in touch, but it just wasn’t enough for him. He had your full name, your work number, and your work email, and he bit back the urge to call and or email you every day. After three days he finally got up the urge to email you, asking if there were any updates about his interview and he loved your snappy reply. At this point he was more interested in you than he was in the job, and soon he got comfortable calling and messaging you every other day. When you finally broke the news that he wasn’t selected he was disappointed, but now his job wasn’t his number one priority--you were.

At home he sat in his room on his beat up laptop, searching your name on every social media website out there. It would seem Facebook was your number one, but his favorite to look at was your Instagram. You had everything unlocked for anyone to see, all your vacation photos where you were dressed up on the beach in nothing but a bikini, all the food you cooked and ate, your friends that you hung out with, and other photos documenting your day to day life. His favorite part of this whole experience was finding out that you were single based off of a gag photo of you with a statue stating you ‘had finally got a boyfriend!’ That night he leaned his head into his palm just staring at your beautiful face. You didn’t have to be single, when you had him lusting after you.

It didn’t take long after that for him to start printing your photos. He created an Instagram account and followed you, among a multitude of other celebrity accounts just to make him seem more authentic. From there he took to screenshotting anything and everything from your account, harvesting your photos for him to look at whenever he pleased. Only that wasn’t enough for him after too long. He had one photo of you in particular that he liked, a candid shot of you dressed up at your friend Nina’s wedding. You had posted it in a black and white filter which added a sense of maturity to you in his eyes, and he decided he needed it framed. He cropped it down, went to the local convenience store that did photos and printed it, although it was kinda blurry and pixelated he framed it and placed it on his computer desk to look at whenever he needed to, but even after that it wasn’t enough.

He got that same photo printed two more times, once more for in his car and once for in his wallet so he could look at you wherever he was. It gave him such a high, to know that you were around him whenever he needed to see you. Whenever him and his parents got into an argument about why he never let them into his room, or when he was going to be moving out of their house since he didn’t contribute, he would always reach into his pocket and clutch your photo, storm into his room where he’d grab his frame, collapse onto his bed and lose control of his emotions. When he had no one, he had you, and soon it would escalate even further.

Soon these feelings of love turned into something different. It was summer time and he was enjoying watching you enjoy your vacation in Jamaica, you were recklessly posting photos of you and your friends having a good time and he was happy for you. One night he was pursuing your Instagram and found that there was a multi post for him to go through. He shook his head at you, it would seem you had gotten a bit drunk before hitting the pool with your friends. He didn’t approve of you drinking, his step mother was an alcoholic and made his life a living hell. He had tried to direct message you and tell you to please not to drink, but you either ignored him or didn’t notice the message. He was disappointed in you, but there was nothing he could do to stop you when you were in a whole different country.

He swiped through all the pictures until he came to one that made his heart stop dead in his chest. Before his very eyes you were topless, wading into the pool with your friend Nina who was also holding her bikini top. Of course he couldn’t see your breasts, you were much too proper for that. Instead you were facing away from the camera and he could only see your bare back.

What followed were more tasteful nude pictures, photos of you skinny dipping carefully so that the camera could not see your intimate parts. He let out a moan at the photo of your bikini and your friends floating in the water next to you, at the photo of the two of you hugging. He had never felt like this about you before, never felt his cock twitch in his pants looking at any of your photos. There you were, completely naked on camera, smiling and looking just as beautiful as you always did. His lip quivered as his hand slowly crept down to his crotch, he swiped back through the photos to get to the very beginning and then went through each and every one of them again. His cock swelling in his pants as he ran his thumb over your bare back. He could almost hear you, almost feel you sitting there in his bedroom.

That night he pleasured himself over that set of photos. And when he was finished he had never felt more ashamed of himself in his life. His phone, still illuminated with the nearly revealing photo of you in the pool, was spattered with his messy seed, and in his mind he had violated you. He felt his eyes brimming with tears as his mind raced in awful directions, he had gotten off to your photos and came on you without asking for your explicit permission first. He threw his phone down onto the bed, tucked his cock back into his pants and walked over to his desk to cry. What if you found out? What if you took him to court and told him to never talk to you again? What if you blocked him and he never got to see you? The possibilities were endless, and soon he began to panic. He picked up the beautiful black and white photo of you he had framed on his desk, brought it to his lips and placed a kiss upon your face. Breathlessly he whispered an apology to you, looked at you for a long time and decided the two of you would need a break. He had broken your trust and didn’t want to ruin it any further. It pained him, but he reached into his wallet and removed the photo of you he kept in there, placed it on his desk and walked away. He needed some fresh air, he needed to think. On his way out of the door his father stopped him and asked if everything was okay, but he refused to answer him. He just wouldn’t understand otherwise.

He walked until well into the morning, and when he returned home he picked up your framed photo and apologized once again, gently asked if it were okay to do such a thing again. There was silence, but in his mind you had told him yes. A soft smile broke out over his lip as he kissed you once again, this time thanking you for your understanding.


Now here he was, months later reaching into the dirt in front of your house for your spare house key, unlocking the door and letting himself in. He kept his head down so that your neighbors wouldn’t become too suspicious, and when he finally got the door open and stepped into your spacious house, he felt like he had won the lottery. He looked around at your expensive wood floors, as the glass chandelier that hung above his head, at the large kitchen just off to the right. He was amazed, he couldn’t believe he had been lucky enough to have found a successful woman like you. He hadn’t drummed up the courage to ask you out yet, but in his mind that had happened a long time ago. To him, you were his already. He just had to tell you.

But now was not the time, he had seen the inside of your house from delivering food to you, but now was completely different. He wanted to take something, something of yours that smelled like you, something that he could hold at night to be closer to you. Photos just weren’t enough for him anymore, he needed something else to satiate him until he could get to you. He moved toward the stairs, thinking your bedroom would have something for him. A pillow would be far too obvious, a stuffed animal might work but if it were one that you were attached to you would be upset upon losing it. He really cared about you, and he didn’t want to imagine you being so lonely in this big house without a stuffed animal that was important to you.

He crept up the stairs as quietly as he could go, and once he reached the top of the stairs it was obvious to him which room was your bedroom. You kept the door wide open, your unmade bed was on display for him. He smiled a crooked smile as he entered your bedroom, it was a surreal feeling as he had imagined what your bedroom looked like thousands of times before. He was happy to see that you had a king sized bed, big enough for both of you to sleep in. He waded in and gawked at your ceiling to floor window next to your bed. It was currently closed which was probably for the best. He wouldn’t want anyone creeping on you while you were sleeping, showering, or dressing. Anyone except for him, that was.

He imagined what it would be like to share a cup of coffee with you looking out into your backyard, the two of you completely nude after a night of sex. You would be sore, you would be tired, but he would be there for you. He would massage you, he would kiss your bare shoulders, and he would take care of you. He smiled, closing his eyes and taking in a long whiff of your bedroom. He was the best man for you, he just couldn’t wait till you learned for yourself.

He realized standing around fantasizing about his life with you wasn’t a good idea, he would have to find what he was looking for and hurry away before you came back home or someone noticed. He took a frantic look around your bedroom, he saw the pillows, the blankets, but no stuffed animals he could take. He ran his hand down his face as his mind raced, what else would suffice? He looked all around the room until his eyes settled on a door over to the left of the bed. He stepped closer, stuck his fingers inside of the crack and found he had hit the jackpot. It was your closet; a walk in closet with your clothing on either side of him. There were so many things he could take, sweater that he could squeeze himself in when he felt like he needed a hug from you, a T shirt he could wrap his pillow in so he could hold you at night. He took a look around, there were so many colors, so many sizes, shapes, and cuts, but as his eyes roamed they settled on something so mundane, something everyone, man or woman, had in their possession.

It was your laundry hamper, where you kept your dirty laundry to wash at your convenience. His mind raced once again, the crooked smile broke out over his face as he realized this would be the best place to pull from. You had worn these clothes recently and your scent wouldn’t have been removed, this was perfect! He stepped up to your basket and reached for the first thing that he could see, a light tank that was baby blue, with a cupcake printed on it. He guessed it was your pajama top, and because it was at the top it was obviously worn recently. He picked the garment up and ran his fingers over it, it was soft, silky, and smooth. He wanted it, but it would be too obvious. He clutched it in his hand as he looked back into the hamper and spied something that made his heart drop ten feet in his own body.

There was a pair of light blue shorts that he assumed they were the match to the pajama shirt he held in his hand, but that wasn’t the important part.

Tucked within the shorts was a small piece of lime green fabric. He didn’t know what it was at first, he thought it was just part of the shorts before picking them up and the green piece fell from the shorts and onto her plush carpet. He stared in awe at the article of clothing that sat in front of his feet, it took him a good minute to realize what it was and when it finally hit him he wondered why the thought didn’t cross his mind earlier.

Your underwear. Your panties. Something that you wore every day that would have more than enough scent for him. His heart pounded in his chest as he gently set the shorts and tank back on top of your dirty laundry, bent down and retrieved his new trophy. He played with them in his hands, ran his thumb over the fabric and decided this was all he needed. Your curvaceous, irresistible ass had touched these recently, your cunt that he had imagined more than once had been concealed by these, he felt like he had won the lottery in life as he held them in his hands.

His curiosity had got the better of him as he adjusted them in his hand, revealing the crotch portion before his very eyes. His jaw fell open as his eyes settled on the slight discoloration, the slightly browned stain adorning the cloth. He smiled, some other men would be grossed out, but not Ben. He wasn’t completely ignorant of the female body, he knew periods happened, discharge happened, and sweat happened. He knew a used pair of panties wouldn’t be perfectly immaculate, and if they were he wouldn’t want them. These panties were well used, well worn, and well loved, and they would be the perfect item to snatch for his growing collection of your items.

His cock strained against his pants as he ran his finger over the discoloration, imagining what could have caused such a beautiful sight. What if these were the panties that you wore during his interview? What if he had turned you on that day and you slickened under his gaze? What if you masturbated to him that night and you did so with your panties on?

Ben groaned as he imagined you sitting on your bed that night, legs spread wide as you toyed with your clit, thinking of all he could have given you that day. These panties could have held your cum that night, or any other night at that. Nothing could have excited him more.

Just like the first time he masturbated over you his hand slipped down to his crotch, stroking his erection as he began lifting the sacred garment to his face. Could he taste you, or would that be too much? He should probably ask for your consent before he did such a thing, but he just had to know. He had to know what the smelled like, if they smelled like you or not.

With one shaky hand he lifted the garment to his nose, pressed it firmly into his nostrils. He cowered for a second, feeling like a pervert, like what he was doing was so taboo and he would never redeem himself. However, he couldn’t stop himself. He had already come this far, he couldn’t back out now. Closing his eyes he took in a huge whiff through both his mouth and nose, and he immediately felt at ease. The musky, humanly divine scent filled his nostrils, fell down his throat and consumed his lungs, he felt like the two of you had finally become one.

He exhaled with a massive moan, held the panties closer to his face as he immediately took in another swift whiff. He had never a more blissful feeling in his life, never felt more at peace than he did taking in your scent. He trembled as his hand tightened around his cock from the outside of his pants, this was so unreal for him, this was the closest he would get to having sex with you for a while, and he couldn’t control himself. With a small flick of his tongue he grabbed the taste of your panties, squeezed his cock that much tighter while taking in your scent for the third time, and without even seeing it coming he was ejaculating against his will.

He whimpered and whined as his sperm escaped into his underwear, he buckled at the waist as he finished, clutching your panties in the palm of his hand as to not drop them and lose them forever. Sometimes he was premature like this, unable to free himself in time to adorn your closet floor and dirty clothing, but perhaps it was for the best. He could only hope he could hold out once he got you, that he would be able to satisfy you to your heart's content. He trembled as the sensitive head of his cock softened, rubbed against the wet cloth of his underwear, this was embarrassing but at least you weren’t around to see.

He stood up straight and tried to compose himself, stuffing your panties into the front pocket of his black jeans. He was in a bad situation and he had to get himself out. He dashed from your closet, from your bedroom, down the stairs and to your front door, making a quick exit but still taking the time to lock the door and replace your spare house key. From there he walked down the road to his shitty little car with his head down, feeling like he accomplished the one thing he had set out to do. As he got into his car he squeezed your panties in the palm of his hand before removing it from the garment. The purpose of this mission was to retrieve something of yours that he could keep sacred, if they smelled like him it would defeat this whole purpose. He started his car, pulled off onto the main road and took one look down at your neighborhood before driving off, a proud smile hung on his face.


That night and every night thereafter he slept with your panties. He had no shame in sniffing them while looking through your pictures, sniffing them while he masturbated over you, and taking them everywhere he went. Just like his picture of you he always had your panties on them, something much easier to have and to hold when he needed you. They made him happy, and luckily enough they still held your scent after two weeks.

He grew closer and closer to you through your panties every day, going as far as to lightly drag them across his cock right before masturbating. He wondered if you had noticed they were gone yet, if you had figured out he broke in and stole from you, if you had talked to the cops or not. Everything had been okay on his end, no one suspected a thing.

On the other hand, he wondered if what he did turned you on. If you had seen him touch himself over you and wished for him to do it again. If you would blatantly set your panties out for him to steal and got off to him doing so. His mind would run wild with scenarios and it didn’t take him long to get himself going again.

However, this time was different.

He didn’t even realize it until he was cuming, but he had failed to move your panties out of the way before finishing on them. He looked down at the now ruined garment, covered in his thick white sperm he knew there was no way they would smell like you anymore. He panicked, tossed your panties to the side as he wondered what he was going to do. He all but worshiped your panties and was reckless enough to ruin them. He couldn’t wash them because it would completely remove your scent, but he couldn’t continue smelling them because he would smell himself as well. He was torn, he didn’t know what to do.

A panicked, anxious whine escaped past his lips as he ran his clean hands through his hair. What was he going to do? He looked back at his desk where his eyes settled on your photo once again. You calmed him, let him think a little more clearly. He treated over to his desk and lifted the photo to his face as he had done a million times now. Maybe all he had to do was simply go take another pair.

Chapter Text

The weeks went by. Ben worked his shitty job, he lurked on all your social media pages morning noon and night, and most importantly, he kept the next pair of your underwear that he stole clean and pristine; stained with your juices and not his.

The second time he broke into your house he was a much more careful, this time wearing a thick pair of his father’s leather gloves as to not leave fingerprints anywhere. He counted himself lucky that he had not been caught the first time, so the second time he went to your home to take another pair he made sure he did it right. Just like last time he parked outside of the house that was for sale, reached into the dirt and retrieved your spare house key, and let himself in. He wasted no time, ascending your stairs and barging into your bedroom and immediately going for your closet. He had to do some digging this time, but soon he held not one, but two pairs of used panties in his hands. He smiled to himself as he stared down at the two extremely different pairs in his hand, one was just a normal baby blue pair like his lime green pair, the crotch still discolored with normal use, but the other he never would have imagined you owned.

You must have gotten these just for him. They were black, they were lacy, and they had a thin line of leopard print around the edge. He couldn’t feel the silky material they were made out of, he could barely even see them as they blended in with his gloves but it didn’t stop him from imagining what they looked like on you. He closed his eyes as he imagined them covering your perfect ass, giving him a striptease, maybe. The way you’d pull your nightie off, the way your sleeping pants would come down to reveal these. It made him shudder, and once again his cock was growing in his pants. He wasn’t shy this time, lifting the lacy pair to his nose and inhaling as much as he could but was satisfied when he realized there was no scent. He looked down at the pair completely disgruntled, fixing them in his hands so that he could see the crotch portion. At the lack of discoloration he was disappointed, you hadn’t worn these as often as he would have wanted.

But that was okay, because this wasn’t the only pair he had. Gently he set the lacy pair down next to him on your bed, pushing the lewd thoughts of having sex with you in your bed in the back of his mind. No wasn’t the time, it was an image he often thought about while pleasuring himself but he didn’t want to take the time now. Instead he unfolded and laid out the blue pair and allowed his silly grin to spread across his face; just like the green pair he had taken they were well loved. He ran his thumb over the crotch before lifting them to his nose and sniffing just as he did back at home, and he was instantly put at rest. He exhaled with a moan and gripped the lacy pair in his hand, he had missed this. He missed this so much.

He allowed himself to relax, to spread his fingers out over your neatly made bed and imagined you sleeping soundly. You were so angelic, so perfect for him; to him it was a no brainer, you deserved him. And it wasn’t until something solid rolled into his knuckle that he was pulled from his imagination.

He opened his eyes and came face to face with something that made his spine tingle. It was solid, it was round, it was long, and it was so naughty.

Ben felt like he had hit the jackpot. A high pitched whine escaped his lips as the blood rushed into his cock, causing it to pulsate as soon as his fingers wrapped around it. Your toy, you had left it sitting on your bed for only him to find. He felt his eyes welling with happy tears as a flurry of emotions ran wild through him, but the main image he could see was you wearing nothing but the lacy panties he had by his side, your finger hooked into the crotch while pleasuring yourself with your toy. You’d be thinking of him, of course, about how good he was with you in bed and about how much you missed him. Ben closed his eyes, his grip tightened on the light pink toy while his pants became impossibly tight. He didn’t think he would get this lucky today, but now that he had he felt like he couldn’t control himself.

He released his cock and within a second the lacy pair of panties were wrapped snugly around it, his other hand holding the now vibrating toy as he imagined it sinking in and out of you. As badly as he wanted it to be him, as badly as he wanted to be the one to bring you pleasure, he thought it was just as attractive to be holding an object that he knew had been inside of you. He was furiously fisting himself, slowly bringing the toy up to his face and almost-- almost --succeeding in tasting just the tiniest bit of it before his body convulsed and he was thrown forward, his orgasm completely taking over his body. He held his eyes shut as he took the time to calm himself, he didn’t want to be too loud and attract the attention of your neighbors, but when he finally felt at peace and opened his eyes he was mortified.

He had been so absorbed in imagining you and your toy that he didn’t realize that the lacy panties had slipped off of his cock and he had succeeded in making the biggest of messes on your bedroom floor. It would seem his cum had arced and ended up on the other side of your bedroom with a few small specks of white sitting on top of your carpet, but the rest had managed to make a small pool in between his feet. He stood, dropping the vibrator onto the bed where he had picked it up from and looking at the mess he had created. “Oh, oh no.” He said, his breathing becoming shallow and panicked. The black panties hung from his softening cock for just a second before they fell into his seed that had started to seep into your plush carpet. He teeth chattered as he dropped to his knees, what was he going to do?

For a moment he scrubbed your carpet with the panties, but that only caused the carpet to become even wetter. He wouldn’t have cared if this happened at his home in his room, but this was your home that you seemed to take pride in keeping clean. How disrespectful would it have been to have just left it there for you to clean? His vision clouded with tears as he scrambled to the bathroom, throwing the cabinet open and pulling the first spray bottle he could find. He then hurried over to the multitude of wet spots that were seeping into your carpet and sprayed each and every one of them, a chemical lemon-y smell rising into his nostrils and replacing your scent. He took the black panties and scrubbed as hard as he could, and before his very eyes the stains disappeared. He sat crouched over as the scent dissipated just as quickly as his anxiety did, it had to have been enough. He stood to his full height once again, finally taking the time to tuck himself back into his pants and to pat himself on the back. He was sweating, his teeth were still chattering as he thought about what could have happened if he wouldn’t have cleaned up, if he would have left his DNA to crust into your carpet. The two of you would have been separated, and he likely would have never seen you again.

He picked up the blue panties and once again lifted them to his nose for a quick whiff, to center himself and help him become composed. He was safe, you were safe, and it was time for him to collect his prizes up and go back home. For good measure he rubbed his boot into the stains one last time, moved your vibrator around just to be sure that it was where you had previously left it, and shoved both pairs of panties into his pocket. He kept his head down as he left your house, replacing your spare key in the dirt and walking back to his car; his final thought while driving past your neighborhood was, perhaps he could start two collections of panties; one for masturbating and one for smelling.


Ben was always so careful when handling the underwear he had collected. Over the next few weeks he had gone to your house two more times and collected a total of five pairs of panties: two for masturbating and three to sniff. He worried about if you had noticed you were missing so many pairs, and because of that he decided he wouldn’t go back to gather more until the three he smelled had lost your scent. And when he did decide to do that, he would return the three that he smelled--he was cordial.

For a long, long time this set up worked for him. In order to keep his set of masturbation undies clean he opted to do his own laundry, his stepmother was the one who usually did his with hers and his fathers, but he didn’t want her discovering his stash. The first time he carried his laundry basket downstairs, your panties tucked safely under his clothes, his entire family give him strange looks; he hardly ever left his room after meeting you because he knew his family wouldn’t understand his love with you.

This continued for a few weeks until Ben came home from work one morning and was called into the dining room. There he met his stepmother sitting at the dining table looking extremely displeased with him. “Ben.” She said, motioning for him to come closer. Ben scowled as he took the few steps over to her, he had never liked his stepmother. She was always getting on his case about things his father or mother never had. She brought her stepdaughter Rey into the house and she was always getting on his nerves for one reason or another. On any day he would have preferred to live with his mother, but she had moved too far away from Ben’s job and he didn’t feel like relocating at the time. But little did he know, things would drastically change in a matter of moments.

“What is the meaning behind this?” She asked, from out of her lap she pulled out all five pairs of your underwear from his stash. Ben gasped as he looked at the small pile of colorful panties, the lacy black pair sitting at the top. “Why do you have all these panties in your room?” She asked, but Ben was speechless. Those were his underwear to cherish from you, she had no right to touch them--let alone go through his room. He took a dive for your underwear but she pulled them away from him and once again demanded answers.

“Are you sleeping around? You’ve never brought any woman home and I don’t want you bringing any diseases in my home.” She said so boldly, Ben was beyond insulted. He was dedicated to you and only you, he had no reason to sleep around.

“I’m not sleeping around, you idiot.” Ben said, trying his best to keep his voice down. He reached into his step mother’s lap and snatched every pair of panties from her, walking away with tears welling in his eyes.

“Whose panties are they then?” She yelled after him, he had heard her yell many times now and he knew he had gotten her just as heated as he was. “Are they your step sister’s? Don’t tell me you’re stealing Rey’s underwear you pervert!” She screamed, in response Rey popped out of her room and screamed ‘what?’ at her mother. Ben kept walking away, once again screaming no at his stepmother as angry, vengeful tears ran down his cheeks. Rey was a full eight years younger than he was, fresh into adulthood and he hated her so much, he wouldn’t dare set foot in her room to steal her panties.

“What’s going on?” Rey asked. “What did you do this time, Ben?” She asked, rolling her eyes and sounding annoyed. With a noticeable crack in his voice Ben told her to mind her fucking business and stalked into his room, slamming the door behind him. He collapsed into the bed, holding your panties close to his chest as he turned into a sobbing, emotional mess. Your panties were his most sacred secret, and his stepfamily now knew everything about it.

“I’m gonna tell his father and he’s gonna kick him out finally.” He heard his stepmother yell, but he hardly cared about being kicked out. Ben felt like he never belonged here, he always felt like the black sheep of his new family. His father didn’t care for him, his stepfamily definitely didn’t care about him, the only person that cared about him, in his eyes, was you. You wanted him, you needed him, and you were the only one in this terrible situation that could help him.

He stood up and sadly walked up to his desk, lifting the photo he printed of you to his face and gently placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry.” He murmured to you. “They know, they know it’s you.” He said, fearing the absolute worst. “Help me, please help me.” He said, breaking down into tears once again. His mind raced with possibilities; the cops being called, him being arrested and you breaking off the relationship he thought you had. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t let his stepfamily ruin this for him. He had to make a decision, and he had to make it quick.

Frantically he looked around his room assessing his belongings and wondering what he would need to bring when he moved out of this home. He wouldn’t need much, the place he had in mind was already furnished and already had almost everything he needed. He rushed over to his closet and pulled out a backpack he had used in high school and immediately began to stuff it full of his clothing, resting the five pairs of panties he had taken from you on the very top. This very morning he would be moving out of his home and in with the one person that he needed: you, and there would be no one that could stand in his way.

Chapter Text

His heart pounds as he scribbles angrily across some computer paper from his printer:



I’m moving in with mom. Your wife and stepdaughter have disrespected me for the last time. Don’t come looking for me, I’m never coming back.

-Ben “Kylo” Solo


It all seems so wrong, so inconceivable that he’d be moving in with you and would have to provide for both himself and you, but he has no choice. If his stepmother felt it was appropriate to waltz right into his room and take your panties from him then what else could she have done? What else was she capable of doing in his personal space? Tears stream down his face as he places the crudely written note down on his pillow and hoists his backpack over his shoulder, thinking he could come back for his desktop later and other important things later. For now, his only focus was to leave; to sneak out in the middle of the day and get to his one true love. The woman that would hold him, that would tell him that everything would be okay. You, he needed none other than you.

He walks straight to his bedroom door and realizes he’s forgetting one crucial thing: the framed photo of you he kept on his desk. He turns to grab it, holds it up to his face wondering if now was a good time. He still had never seen you in person other than his interview and you had no way of knowing he was on his way. It was a Thursday morning, he had worked a short 8 AM to 11 AM shift at work and you would no doubt still be at your job. He’d be able to slip in and spend all day at your home until you got back around 6:30. He squeezed your photo as the sound of his stepmother’s shrill voice shouting about how lazy he was carried into his bedroom. He couldn’t stay here another minute.

His vision clouds as he opens his door and storms through his home amongst his stepsister and stepmother’s shouting. He could hear them saying his name, but he chose not to hear what they were saying. He could only think about you; the way you’d smile when you saw him, how excited you’d be to have him. He’d be even more excited, to hold you, to hug you, to kiss you and finally claim you as his. He closed his eyes as he calmly walked through the battlefield that was his living room, felt his stepmom behind him every step of the way. When he finally reached the front door, took the first step out over the threshold he finally felt free. It was as if his chains had been broken and he had been liberated. Now all he had to do was go to his new home, to prepare it for his move.

His car is parked in the driveway at the very end which makes it easy for him to make a quick getaway. He throws his backpack into the front seat but gently rests your photo behind it. It’s the only thing that keeping him sane at the moment and he couldn’t stand the thought of mishandling you out of anger. With his eyes shut he starts his rickety old sedan, waited for it to rattle to life and immediately put it into reverse. When he opens his eyes the first thing he sees is his stepmother’s angry red and twisted face at the front door, shaking her fist at him as he reverses out of the driveway. As soon as he’s out on the street he throws his car into drive with a grunt and is off, destined to forget about his family and start his brand new life.


When he lets himself into your house this time he simply throws his backpack at his feet and takes a good look around. This large home, one that he never in his life thought he’d ever be able to afford, was now his. He became emotional as he buckled at his knees, he couldn’t have been more thankful for you and your willingness to help him during his time of need. He had nowhere else to turn when his stepfamily finally broke him, he only had you.

After having a good cry in your foyer he stood to his feet and wiped his face with his hands, it was still going to be hours before you came home but he didn’t want you to see him so broken. This was meant to be a time of celebration, the fact that you two would finally be meeting and cohabitating. He didn’t want to be so emotional.

So far he had only seen your bedroom, after he had gotten himself under control he felt like it would be a good idea to show himself around his new home. With a deep breath he took the first step forward into what would now be considered his living room, taking in everything he could see. You had a long leather sectional and a recliner in front of a wall- mounted 70 inch flat screen TV, something he never thought he’d ever see in his own home. To the left was a grand fireplace and to the right was a glass cabinet that held old family pictures as well as some strange little trinkets. Old, matted stuffed animals, fine jewelry and what looked to be an urn. He took a step closer, the photo closest to the urn was of a young man in a military uniform. It was wrinkled, the colors were slightly faded and it appeared to be decades old. Was it your father, your grandfather? Only you would know, Ben had never seen you post anything like this before. An overwhelming sense of sadness overcame him as he set his fingers gently on the glass in front of it, the man did look somewhat like you, he was probably your father.

His eyes roamed from the young man in uniform to the other photos; photos of infants, recent and older, photos of you as a child with a number of relatives, and what shocked him the most was a photo of you in a wedding dress. He jumped back as if he had been stung by an angry insect. You were married? He had never seen anything on your social media pages about this either. He examined the photo a little closer, you were next to a young man with long blonde hair and a thick beard. Attached to it was a newspaper clipping dated October 18th three years ago:  Local Lawyer Remembered by City after Tragic Car Accident. Next to it was a photo of the same man in your wedding photo, looking almost the same but printed in black and white. You were a widow, Ben had been none the wiser.

He immediately started worrying about you and your feelings. Being a widow wasn't easy, Ben had never lost a loved one to death but he could only imagine. What would you feel about him? Would you be open to jumping into a relationship so soon after your exhusbands death? Memories of your social media pages flooded back to him, of you posing naked in the water and of you declaring that a mere statue was your boyfriend and he started to relax just a bit. Perhaps you were ready for him, he didn't have to feel so guilty about anything.

He took a step away and soon the guilt turned to despair, he had no idea you were so close to your family. He could never imagine having an entire cabinet full of mementos of his family since he was so indifferent toward them. However, just as soon as the heartbroken feelings of his lack of a family washed over him they fell away when he realized moving in with you would mean he would have a loving family. Your family loved you, they would have to love him too. A smile grew over his face for just a moment. He couldn’t wait to see his photo in this cabinet, perhaps next to your now late husband.

He took a step away from the cabinet, casting one last look at your beautiful face on your wedding day before turning and heading toward the kitchen to start his next round of exploration. It was just as grand as your living room, there was a large island in the center of it all and long warming lights hung down over it. He imagined you held a lot of parties here, cooked lots of food and meals for both you and your late husband. He hoped that you would have been a good cook since he was severely lacking in the skill, but that would be something he could worry about at a later date.

Instead he surveyed the rest of your house. You had a sizable office with dual monitors on the first floor and three rooms on the second floor. One of them was yours of course, he spent so much time in that room that he felt he didn’t need to see it. The other two rooms were a guest room and what seemed to be a small library. Shelves lined the walls with lots of books and board games, the latter excited Ben the most. He dropped to his knees and picked up the pile, all of his favorites were there in his hands: Life, Chutes and Ladders, Twister, Mousetrap, among others. He smiled, using his hand to brush the dust off of Apples to Apples he imagined what it would be like to stay up all night playing these with you. He set them off to the side, perhaps that what the two of you could do tonight. Like a date, a board game date!

He exited the room with a brand new, happy outlook on the situation. He was positive, he was excited, and all he had to do was wait another six hours to meet you and everything would be straight. He went back down the stairs and removed his boots, placing them neatly next to the door where you kept all of your other shoes. He marveled at all the shoes you had: heels, flats, running shoes. To him you were an amazing woman with quite a lot of style; he found that with each passing second in your home he was even more proud of himself for finding such a genuine girl to be with.

He had dropped his backpack off on your bed thinking he could unpack after he grabbed a bite to eat for lunch. He wasn’t that great of a cook but surely you would have something he could throw together easily. Come dinner time he would have to figure something out, he really wanted you to cook for him but he would understand if you weren’t up to it after his surprise visit. He opened the fridge and found exactly what he was looking for: Bread, lunch meat, sliced cheese, and a bright red can of Coke that was calling his name. He was capable of making himself a sandwich no doubt, he was sure it would hold him over until dinner time. He carefully assembled the sandwich and carried it over to the dining room table which was posted right up against the sliding glass door. He sat down and ate his sandwich as he looked out at the nice sunny day. He couldn’t stop thinking about spending the summer evenings on the porch with you, days like this the two of you could sunbathe, and as his eyes swept your well kept deck he spied a grill in the far corner. He smiled, he could learn how to grill for you. He could learn how to do anything for you if you wanted. He took a swing of his coke and pulled out of his phone, no missed calls, no texts, nothing. Ben was a lonely man, but not when he had you.


He busied himself for the rest of the day, and as the clock clicked closer to 6:30 he grew more and more nervous. What if you didn’t take the news well? What if you demanded he get out and he had to go back home to his family? He paced back and forth in your living room, wringing his hands as he told himself to be positive. He was the perfect man for you, there wouldn’t be any problems. He wondered if he should meet you at the door. No, that would give you too good of an opportunity to run before getting to know him. Should he sit on the couch? Sit at your small dining room? Your bedroom? There were lots of possibilities, but when he finally heard your front door opening he decided that standing in the doorway of your garage that was connected to your kitchen was a good place to start.

He could hear you moving around, heard your door close and heard you step out of your shoes. His heart hammered against his ribcage as your footsteps got closer and closer. He peered around the doorway and immediately fell back when he saw you trotting into the kitchen humming a sweet tune. He closed his eyes and silently let out a breath, this was it, he had to let himself be known. He once again leaned out of the shadows, fully intending to step out and introduce himself but he found himself completely breathless as he once again saw you in the flesh.

His mouth fell open and his jaw quivered, he had forgotten how beautiful you were in person. He was looking at your profile, your beautiful hair pulled up in a tight bun on top of your head while you smiled and bobbed your head to some music playing in the wireless earbuds in your ears. You were unpacking your lunchbox from the day, placing the container and utensils on your granite countertops. He smiled, leaned his head against the door frame. You were his woman, he still couldn’t believe how lucky he had gotten. Just as he took the first step into your kitchen you turned around and walked away, humming the same strangely familiar tune as you turned and headed up your stairs. He missed his chance, he had to catch up with you.

As quietly as he could he stepped after you, looking up at you as you walked across the hallways to your bedroom, singing to yourself “ And people say ‘run don’t walk away.’” The lyrics made him even more nervous, he didn’t want you running or walking away from him. He crept quietly up the stairs, keeping his distance from you as best as he could until he made it to your bedroom. His heart jumped into his throat and his breath caught as he rounded the corner and saw you standing away from him, your fingers hooked in your work pants and shimmying them down your legs. In that moment a cute white pair of undies were on display for him and only him, small bright red strawberries decorated them and he thought they were adorable. You were still humming to yourself as he took a step closer, wishing he could press his nose into the crotch of those panties right away. His mouth watered as another sinful thought coursed through his mind: What if he could smell the crotch of those panties, while they were still on you?

He stood in the doorway, his eyes darting from his backpack that was on the far end of the bed and back to you while you were unbuttoning your shirt. How you had not seen his backpack yet was beyond him, but that was okay because he was enjoying the show you were putting on for him. You dropped the shirt to the floor where your pants had been and bent down to pick both clothes up, turning toward the bed and throwing them onto the bed. You had started singing again which Ben was enjoying until you had stopped mid-sentence having finally spotted his backpack.

Oh, she’s sweet…” You turned, taking a step toward the bed. “ ...but she’s…”  You continued, staring hard at his black backpack. This was it. You were slowly turning toward him and Ben knew this was it. His hands shook and his mouth was dry as you turned and finally saw him, locking eyes with him for a hot second. Ben’s crooked smile came out once again as he didn’t know what to do, you were frozen with your mouth agape staring at him and it would seem that neither of you knew what to do. His mind was blank and he decided he couldn’t just stand there. He had to be cordial, he had to be a gentleman. He slowly lifted his hand in the air and nervously chuckled at you, and when you still didn’t move he decided he needed to speak.

“H-Hi.” He whispered, dropping his hand and taking yet another step toward you. Everything was going well so far, at least until the room around him was filled with your loud, eardrum piercing, blood-curdling scream.

Chapter Text

He doesn’t know what to do as he stares at your contorted, red face. This was the last thing that he wanted, to scare you or for you to think that he was going to hurt you. “Please, please don’t--” He stammers, taking a step toward you but you dive out of his grasp and make a beeline for the bedroom door. “No, wait! You don’t understand!” He cries, running after you. He feels his heart pounding painfully in his chest as he lunges and encircles your waist with his long, muscular arms. This is the first time he’s ever gotten to touch you but he hardly has time to think about it. Instead his number one priority is to keep you here and to calm you down; he can’t risk losing you after working so hard to get here.

You reach out and grab both sides of the door frame and hang on for your life, screaming at him to let you go but he pulls you free. Ben stumbles back and nearly topples to the floor as your weight shifts in his arm, but he manages to take a few steps to the bed and drop you there. “Please, you have to listen to what I have to say. I’m not here to hurt you, I promise.” He pleads, but you still scream and thrash and try to throw him off of you. Ben’s shaking everywhere, he’s panicking and thinking he can’t let you sit here and scream. The only thing he can think to do is place his hand over your mouth to stifle your screams once and for all. He softly begs you to calm down, to think logically but you don’t listen to him. You try to throw him off of you, you try to scream in his hand, and at some point Ben Snaps. He can’t take it anymore and he raises his voice at you--perhaps the last thing he's ever wanted to do to you.

“Would you just calm down and listen to me?!” He screams at you, pressing his hand harder over your mouth. It was finally enough to stop you from fighting him and soon he was completely out of breath, panting and staring down into your wide, fear filled eyes. “Thank you.” He breathes, but you do nothing in reply. He hesitates at first but feels like he can safely lift his hand from your face, and when he does he instantly feels guilty when he sees a red imprint of his hand over your mouth. He didn’t mean to, but you left him no choice.

“I’m sorry I had to do that to you, but you won't let me explain myself.” He says calmly, but he wasn’t expecting your reaction at all.

“Take whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me!” You cried out, sobbing once again. Ben can’t help but to pity you, this was a last minute thing that you didn’t know about after all. He lifts a hand and pushes your hair out of your face, shushing you and resisting the urge to kiss your perfect lips.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I just, I…” He’s at a loss of words, he doesn’t know how to tell you about his feelings and intentions. “Don’t you remember me?” He asks, abruptly changing the subject. “I’m Ben Solo, you interviewed me for a job, remember?” You stare at him blankly, he can’t read you well enough so he continues talking. “I followed you on Instagram, Kylo Ren? Don’t you remember?” For a moment he thinks he can see a sparkle of clarity in your eye and becomes hopeful.

“Oh, I brought your panties back.” He says, a little too excitedly. He leans up off of you and reaches for his backpack, keeping you pinned down with his knee. “I don’t know if you ever noticed they were missing, but here I brought them back.” Ben throws the backpack open and, with one hand, pulls out all five pairs of panties and sets them down on the bed next to you. He watched the look of horror play across your face and immediately regrets ever stepping foot in your house before. Tears run down your cheeks and his mind races on how he can cheer you up. Maybe he should go into his explanation of love and how he’s come to live with you, maybe that will help you understand where he’s coming from. He’s already at a disadvantage because he’s scared you, now he had to figure out how he’s going to fix it.

“I’ve been following you ever since my interview, and I’m not ashamed to say that I love you.” He says, feeling tears brimming in his eyes. “I’ve fallen in love with you since the day I met you. And, and I just, I had nowhere else to go so I, I....” He stammers, unable to say anything else. He thinks momentarily of being romantically dramatic and dropping his lips to yours, but thinks better of it. The best thing for him to do is just say it, because beating around the bush was useless and would only scare you more. He swallows a thick wad of saliva before tossing his fear behind him and staring his explanation, hoping that you’d take the news well and would see exactly where he was coming from.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to be living with you.” He says as confidently as he can, but he can’t help but worry when he sees your face go completely white. “You’re the only one that understands me, you’re the only one that loves me. Please understand, I...” He begs, panicking when your eyes squint and you start to cry again. “I’m going to take care of us, there’s no reason to be afraid.” He pries your hand from your chest and kisses your unwilling knuckles, he could wait for his first real kiss with you if it would make you more comfortable; He knew you weren’t ready for it yet.

After a moment of silence he finally sat up, removing his knee and freeing you. He stared at you as you stared at him, breathing deeply and dangerously. He had finally found it in himself to be able to relax. “So, dinner?” He asked, thinking the two of you had finally moved past the awkward first meeting and could now be more comfortable with one another. “If you aren’t up to cooking I can order a pizza from work.” He offered, looking down to pull his phone out of his pocket. When he looked up you were gone, fleeing from your bedroom into the hallway and down the stairs.

He jumped up after you and chased you all the way to the door, your screams and loud, clunky footsteps echoed throughout the empty foyer with Ren’s following close behind. You had just gotten to the door when Ben was coming off the last step, and just before you could open it he was grasping you by your hair and pulling you back into the house. With an angry scowl he throws you to the floor, leans up against the door long enough for you to start crawling away. He was so frustrated, so angry that you would have the audacity to run from him like this. How many times had he told you that he wasn’t going to hurt you? He had never hurt you in the past and he never would, you didn’t have any reason to run from him. He grabs you by the ankle and pulls you back to him, telling you one more time that he won’t hurt you but all you do is cry harder and pull away from him.

He sighs, closes his eyes for one moment as he realizes this wasn’t going to work. You didn’t trust him to not hurt you and he certainly couldn’t trust you to stay put. What was he going to do when he went to work? This was a big house, you certainly had a large mortgage to pay plus your bills, car payments, etc. If he had to sit here and hold you down all day he’d never make any money, and neither would you. Based off of circumstances right now he knew you’d run the second you go to work tomorrow, you’d run and you’d call the police on him. He feels jittery once again, put on the spot as he had to think of something and something quick. Some way to keep you right here until he could trust you to come home to him and not be afraid. Casting one sad look down at you he can only think of one way that would work, and it pains him to know that you were forcing him to stoop so low.


He comes back to the house hours later, eyeing up the garage as he lets himself in. You parked your car in the driveway for some reason and he had no idea what you kept in the garage, but he was thinking perhaps he could keep his car in the garage so that he couldn’t be located by his family as easily. Your car would have to stay there, he may even have to reposition it a few times to make it look like you were driving it regularly so your neighbors didn’t get suspicious. But that didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was the new equipment he had come home with. He walks from around the block, from the home that was still for sale, and grimaces. He can’t stand the thought of putting you through this but it’s the only thing he can think to do until he trusts you to not run from him.

He could only find what he was looking for at a sex shop 45 minutes away, one that specialized in BDSM related activities. The first place he tried was Walmart, then the pet store, but the only collars they had could easily be opened by you reaching up and unbuckling them. He asked employees at both places if they had collars that locked, ones that couldn’t be opened by human hands and they all looked at him like he was crazy. He walked away disappointed when they told him they had no such thing, sat in his car and ran his hand through his hair feeling panicked once again. What he used to keep you immobile was only a temporary solution and wouldn’t work forever, there had to be something out there.

He pulled out his outdated Android phone and searched for the phrase “collars with locks for adults” and came up with lots of online ads. Amazon, Ebay, Etsy, and lots of other websites he didn’t trust. He didn’t have time to wait two days for Amazon, he needed something tonight and he couldn’t stop until he found it. He furthered his search until he found the shop so far away, it was his last hope and he had to at least try. Luckily for him it had exactly what he was looking for, and he welcomed himself into your home reminding himself that this collar and leash would mean you’d be safe. He’s so excited to try it on you that he doesn’t care to remove his shoes, instead he rushes to the bathroom he’s left you in to show you his gifts for you.

He never pictured you like this, but you gave him no choice. He found the duct tape in the kitchen and placed a piece over your mouth first, then sat on top of you so that he could tape your wrists and feet together. The bathroom he left you in had no windows and only one door which meant you would be safe without him; it was also mostly in the center of the house so if you did manage to make some noise people wouldn't hear you. He squat down next to you, pushed the hair that had dried to your face from your tears and greeted you with a stupid, love-struck grin. He missed you so much, he’d been gone for far too long.

“I got you a gift.” He said, holding the box up to you. He realized that while you were on your belly with your hands taped behind your back you had to crane your neck to see it, that wouldn’t do. He didn’t want you to be uncomfortable so he rolled you over and helped you to sit up. “With this I won’t have to tie you up like this when I’m home!” He was buzzing with excitement, excitement that you didn’t reciprocate. He tried not to let your look of fear down, reminded himself that there would be an adjustment period and you wouldn’t be as afraid of him later on. Your bloodshot, tired eyes would soon turn light and happy to see him, and soon he’d be able to see your beautiful smile when he didn’t have to conceal it with duct tape. In the meantime, he had to show you your new collar. He picked it out just for you.

He opened the box and, on top of a leather pillow sat your new collar. It was soft, the lock wasn’t that large and the heavily tattooed man behind the counter told him it would be comfortable for you. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key and unlocked it, showing you that the inner lining was plush and padded like a pillow. “See? It’s soft, it won’t hurt you. And look at this…” He said, flipping it over and running his fingers over the engraving:


He paid an extra $50 to have it engraved, because he did love you and he thought it would remind you that he wasn’t here to hurt you. He could hear your crying starting up once again, looked up to find you shaking in terror with tears running over your duct tape. He felt his enthusiasm faltering quickly, he knew it wouldn’t thrill you but he didn’t expect it to scare you this much. He cleared his throat, lifted the collar to your throat and told you to try it on. You shook your head, scooted away from him but as usual he overpowered you. He pressed the collar onto your neck and locked it then sat back to get a good look at you.

Even so petrified of him you were beautiful. Even with tears in your eyes you were angelic. The collar only accented everything you already had to offer: your beautiful, soft skin, your radiant eyes, and the curves of your body that were visible in your underwear. Ben really was the luckiest man in the world to have you, and soon he would make you feel the same to have him.

“So, are you ready for dinner?” It was going on 9 PM and neither of you had eaten. You didn’t reply, simply looked away from him to the floor and shook your head again. He leaned in closer to you, worried about you not eating. “Are you sure? You aren’t hungry?” You shook your head again, but Ben wouldn’t accept no for an answer. “But you haven’t eaten since you got home, your lunch break was at noon.” There was silence, and when you didn’t do anything he reached into his back pocket to pull out his cellphone. “I don’t expect you to cook tonight, I’ll order us a pizza from work.” He says, scrolling through his contacts and selecting his work number.

His coworker picked up the phone and greeted him enthusiastically. Ben wasn’t usually happy when he had to contact work, but the fact that he was ordering food for the both of you to eat made him feel special. When he started his order he realized he forgot to ask you what you wanted on your pizza. He raised his eyes to you for just a moment before telling his coworker he wanted a large pepperoni pizza. Everyone liked pepperoni, and he knew you weren’t a vegetarian based off of the pictures of steaks and burgers he had seen on your Instagram. When it came time to confirm the address he had to stop him when he listed off Ben’s old address.

“Uh, no. I’m at a party, could you deliver it to Twin Passage Way?” He asked, to which his coworker replied there wouldn’t be a problem. “Which house man?”

“Uh, um, well…” Ben stuttered, looking up at you again. There was a spark of hope in your eye as you started to wiggle back and forth and cry as loud as you could over the duct tape. He realized you were trying to gain the attention of the person on the phone, to scream and draw attention to yourself and that simply wouldn’t do for him.

“Can I just meet you at the mouth of the neighborhood? Street’s pretty packed, you’d have a hard time leaving.” He offered, standing up as quick as he could and exiting the bathroom. Behind him you screamed as loud as you could, shuffled toward him only to fall back onto your stomach in a desperate attempt to free yourself.

“Yeah man, that’s cool. Good looking out.” He said over the phone, Ben detected a hint of awkwardness but he didn’t care. He told him to charge his credit card and hung up the phone, took an annoyed look back at you. Yet again you assumed he was here to hurt you and tried to get him in trouble. He decided right then and there that he needed to nip this issue in the bud.

“For the last time, sweetheart,” He started, walking back into the bathroom and squatting down next to you. “There’s no need for you to draw attention to yourself. I love you, I’d never do anything to hurt you or put you in danger.” He ran his hand down your wet cheeks and under your chin, thinking by now he was angry enough to yell but decided not to. “You’ll see, after we adjust to living with each other you’ll see. I’ll prove to you that I can be the best man for you, I give you my word.” His eyes darted down to your duct tape, he thinks for a moment that he could kiss you and it wouldn’t count as an actual kiss due to the tape blocking your lips. But you’re too scared, affection was still too new for you. It saddened him, but he stood by his commitment to not scare you more than he already had.

“I’m going to go wait for the pizza, I’ll be right out front okay?” He said, reassuring you that he wouldn’t be going anywhere without you. He exited the bathroom and closed the door behind him, remembering to leave the light on for you. He couldn’t wait to untie you when he came back, to remove the duct tape and hear your beautiful voice. It upset him that he had to restrain you but he stayed positive. One day you would understand, one day you would appreciate all the effort he put forth. One day the two of you would live happily together, and all this screaming, duct tape, and collar business he has to power through will be worth it.

Chapter Text

Talking was something Ben had never been good at. As a child Ben talked too much, his teachers and his parents were always telling him to shush and to not be so loud. The result was a boy who hardly ever talked until he hit puberty, and when he started making friends in late Junior High and Early High School he started to get teased for his deep, baritone voice. So Ben went selective mute, only uttering a few words to some people and barely talking to his family. His parent's divorce in the 10th grade made the situation even worse and eventually he found himself hardly ever talking in the house since his young stepsister often took up everyone's attention. The result was a 26 year old man who was very socially awkward that hardly ever wanted to talk to anyone, but that was hardly the case when it came to you.

He couldn’t rip the duct tape off of your mouth fast enough, couldn’t free your wrists and ankles to walk you from the bathroom quick enough for his liking. He led you to the kitchen by the leash, and he was thankful he remembered to buy a leash with locks on both ends. He looped the leash through the handle on your sliding glass door and pulled the chair out so you could sit down. This would be the first meal you shared together as a couple and Ben was just buzzing with excitement. His hands shook as he placed one slice of pizza on a plate for you and one for him, carried them over to the table where he placed yours down in front of you, perhaps a little too hard because you jumped at the sound of the plate rattling so loudly.

“I’m sorry,” He coughed, meeting your gaze for a moment before looking away shyly. “Sorry, I’m just, I’m so excited to have our first dinner together.” He chuckled, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks. You looked away from him and down at the pizza, he realized a little too late that he was hovering and staring at you. He whispered another sorry to you as he hurriedly sat down on the other side of the table.

From there he ate his pizza, talking to you about anything and everything he could think of. He talked about his stepmother and how her alcoholism made her cruel, talked about his mother and how she moved to the other side of Washington. Talked about his job, talked about his ex-girlfriend, his car, his computer, whatever would come to his mind; but most importantly he talked about how much he loved you. You just sat there tethered to the sliding glass door, seemingly not paying attention to him but it didn’t matter. You were there, that’s all he needed.

“And I just can’t thank you enough for letting me stay with you. I still can’t believe my dumbass stepmom stole your panties from me and washed them without my permission. I couldn’t stand living in that toxic house anymore.” He smiled at you, leaning back and brushing the crumbs off his fingers. He had eaten his two slices of pizza but you hadn’t touched any of yours. Ben’s hopeful smile dropped into a concerned frown, then he realized he was so excited to eat with you that he forgot to get you something to drink. He stood, pushing the table toward you by accident and causing you to flinch once again. “Sorry, um. I forgot to get you something to drink.” He said, gripping the sides of the table. “What do you want?”

You swallowed, placed your cheek in your hand before looking down at your uneaten pizza. “Just water.” You whispered, it was the first thing you had said to him that wasn’t along the lines of ‘please let me go’ and Kylo was over the moon. His heart sung as he nodded his head, rushed over to the cabinets and went through every one of them until he found a glass. He carried it over to your fridge and filled it with ice and water, then brought it over to you.

“Your fridge door makes ice, that’s so cool.” He said, trying to make some small talk. He had always wanted a fancy fridge like this and now he owned one. He owned an entire house with you now; he’d have to remember to add his name to the home loan in a few months so he could co-own it with you. The thoughts made him happy, to share a life with you. All he could do was stand there and over excitedly stare at you drink your water. Just like your entire conversation you refused to look at him, ignoring him as best as you could. He would have preferred you to eat some pizza but he counted a sip of water as a victory.

“Are you going to eat your pizza?” He gently reminded you, pushing your pizza closer. He didn’t want you to starve, that wouldn’t help anyone in the situation.

“I’m not hungry.” You said quietly, but Ben was indifferent. He respected the fact that you were nervous, didn’t feel the need to force you to eat tonight.

“Okay, what would you like to do now?” He asked, it was going on ten PM and usually he liked to be in bed by midnight. “I saw your board games, we can play one of those or we can just get ready for bed.” He offered. Since this was his first night he wanted to give you the option, he figured it would help you adjust to the company if you got to choose what the two of you would partake in first.

“I want to go to bed, I think.” You said, Ben nodded his head enthusiastically. You were talking to him, answering his questions and he loved every second of it. “I have work in the morning. I have to be there at 8 AM so…” You said, sitting up and flashing your eyes to him for a hot second then looking back at the table.

At the mention of your work Ben becomes slightly distressed. Work? Work was definitely off the table for you, for right now at least. “Sweetheart, you won’t have to work.” He said as softly and calmly as he could. He watched as terror flashed across your face, watched you do your best to hide it but he could still tell what he just said had upset you. “I can’t trust you to go to work yet, you’ll leave me.” He was brutally honest. He knew that you were smart enough to not need him to sugar coat anything for you.

You trembled in front of him in response to his rule. He felt guilty when your eyes glassed over but he had no other choice. “I know it’ll be difficult, but I’ll pick up some extra hours at my job. I’ve told you, I’m going to take care of us.” He tried to reassure you as he unlocked the leash from the door handle, allowing you just a bit more freedom. The leash was still locked to your collar but you didn’t move. You sniffed to conceal your tears from him, to which he once again became remorseful for making you cry.

“No I, I have to go to work.” You begged him, but he refused to budge.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t trust you to go to work and come back yet.” He said, pulling on the leash to get you to follow him. “For now, how about I run you a bath, then I’ll get some fresh pajamas for you and we can go to bed.”

You quivered, unable to hide your fear at this point. “Well you’ll have to let me call my boss!” You shrieked, reaching up and pulling against the leash as if you wanted to stay at the table. “If I don’t show up they’ll fire me! Then I won’t have a job for when you do, er, trust me.” Your eyes were full of fear, Kylo falsely assumed it was fear over losing your job. Obviously your job was important to you, he thought it was how you met your late husband. He hardened his lips into a line, he hated seeing you this upset and decided you were right. “Just, just let me get my phone from upstairs and call out, it won’t take very long and I’ll be allowed to stay home all day!”

Ben nodded his head at you, held his finger up to stop you from talking. “No, you’re right. You should call out for tomorrow.” He said, looking past you down the hall. “I’ll take care of it, I’ll send them an email for you.” He offered, pulling you to lead you out of the kitchen.

“Wait, no!” You tugged even harder, Ben turned around and looked at you in annoyance. “I’ll have to call, my boss will never give me the day off if I just email him.” He could see your demeanor falling apart as fear took over, you were fooling him. He chuckled, he’d never be stupid enough to give you a cellphone to make a call.

“Sweetheart, you’ll just have to trust me.” He said, now he yanked on the collar so that you flew up from the chair. You were murmuring, still pulling on the leash to try to stay within the kitchen. He gave no mercy, dragging your unwilling body behind him as he steered into your office. His anger was building within him and he felt like he could yell at you, but he calmed himself. Instead he sat at your computer and locked the end of the leash around the leg of the rolling chair he sat in. It was long enough to allow you to stand nervously next to him, but not long enough to allow you to run from the office.

Your computer was unlocked and he was devastated to see that your home screen was a photo of you and your husband. You were beautiful as always; your long hair dangling down past your shoulders while your husband stood in front of you taking the photo of the two of you in your kitchen. By all means he was a good looking man and he could tell he did make you happy at one point, but Ben didn’t want to be reminded that your heart had belonged to someone else in the past. He grimaced as he moved the mouse to the Google Chrome icon and opened your browser, trying every major email site until he came across your personal email address at Yahoo.

You had your account set to "remember me" so it was easy for him to log in and have access to your email. He verified that you used this email address regularly and then went through your contacts, pulling up your ‘work’ folder which only contained four email addresses. You were still babbling on about just letting you call your boss, but he didn’t want to hear it. “Hush.” He said forcefully enough to cause you to balk momentarily. “Which one of these is your boss. I’m going to email them and that’s final.” He said, flashing you a hardened look that meant he was serious. He watched your lower lip quiver before you revealed that your boss was e . He nodded his head, thanked you before adding the contact to the email he was drafting.

Good evening. Sorry to message you so late but I’ve been in the hospital. I won’t be coming in tomorrow.


He wrote out, signing your name for you at the very end of the email. He looked over at you, looking you from the top of your now messy hair to the bottom of your nervous toes. He felt bad for raising his voice at you, just as bad as he felt the first time it happened. He told himself it would never happen again, he loved you too much and wanted to gain your trust as quickly as possible; he’d never achieve that by yelling at you when fear was your natural reaction. He looked back to the computer and hit send, hoping your boss took the news well enough and would allow you a sick day.

“I suppose I should do the same.” He said with a sigh, closing out the window and once again coming face to face with you and your husband. He shook his head, reached into his pocket for his phone and opened the thread for his boss. He sent him a message to tell him that he’d be calling out as well. He closed his eyes and turned away from the computer, thinking as positively as he could. The man was no longer in the picture, you had Ben now and you didn’t need him. Tonight he’d spend all night long sleeping next to you, he’d hold you and kiss you and love you more than anyone else. Then tomorrow he’d wake up, make you a cup of coffee and bring it to you in bed. He’d make you breakfast and the two of you would spend all day together. It sounded like a dream he never thought he’d be able to achieve. That he would find the love of his life and spend a blissful morning with them. He opened his eyes, looking at you still standing there in the middle of your office then followed your leash all the way to the chair he was sitting in. The faster he could wean you from the leash, the better. He wasn’t really into bondage or being dominant over you, the leash and collar ruined his image of you quite a lot and he wanted to be able to trust you without it. But it was no bother for the time being, he would give you as long as you needed to grow accustomed to him. He was sure one day he wouldn’t need it.

“Come my love.” He said, retrieving the key he kept in his pocket and unlocking his end of your leash. “I’ll run you a bath and we can relax for the rest of the evening.”


He knows as soon as the collar comes off you’re going to try to run, so as he unhooks your bra he stands in front of the door to block your path. He has to play with it for a good few seconds before all three hooks finally come loose, and as gently as he can he pushes the straps off of your stiff shoulders. His anxious fingers shake over the soft, supple, warm skin of your back and shoulders, and he finds his breath catching in his chest once the bra falls to the floor. The air around him is warm and smells of lavender from the soap he had poured into the tub for you, but he can hardly focus on anything but the fact that he would be seeing a nude woman in the flesh for the first time ever.

Ben was a virgin. He’d never admit it to you, but he was. His sexual history was only made up of pornography and masturbation, but he thought he had learned a thing or two that he could use on you one day. But not today, because he knew you would say no and he respected your decision.

His mind races back to the pictures he discovered the first time he masturbated over you and he realizes this was hardly any different. His eyes sweep your back as his cock begins to grow, he realizes that he would need to undress the lower half of you and see you fully nude. The bath was still running and soon it would overflow if he didn’t cut it off. “Hold still, okay?” He warns before hooking his thumbs into your panties. His heart hammers in his chest as he pulls them down your tense legs and leaves them on the floor around your ankles. Now you’re naked, and he can see everything he had always imagined.

He didn’t think it was possible for your ass to look so much rounder and cuter in person than it did when he saw you in your work clothing. He had to resist the urge to reach out and run his hands over you, squeezing your soft flesh like he always wanted to. The sound of the water had been drowned out of his mind as he stared, then suddenly came back to reality when you shifted on your feet out of your pink panties.

The leash is locked to a partially exposed pipe behind your toilet. His options were to either tether you to the towel rack or to the shower rod, but he felt both of those options were too easily broken. The last thing he has to do is unlock the collar and you’d be free, fully nude just for him.

He can’t calm his hands enough to hold the key and it falls to the ground in between your feet. His heart races as he bends down to retrieve it, but he closes his eyes tightly. As badly as he wants to see you--all of you--he knows he’s not ready and he’d likely pass out at the sight of your sex. He stands back up and gently unlocks the collar, holding his hand on your shoulder to keep you still. It falls to the floor right in front of your panties and now you were completely bare. “Okay, bath time.” He says, he has to physically stop himself from vomiting out of nervousness. He pushes you toward the tub and the anchors holding your feet still break away, allowing you to step over the tub wall and sink into the warm water. He holds your hand to help you the entire time, politely looking into the water and not at your breasts.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to wash your back?” He asked, looking only into your eyes. You shook your head at him, drawing your knees up to your chest to hide your body from him. He nodded once and then immediately turned away, quickly moving to the door to give you your privacy. He had the door open and one foot in your bedroom when an issue struck him right in his heart. He turned around and looked at you for a hot second before he looked about three feet above the bathtub: A window. A window that could easily be broken open and jumped through. He definitely didn’t trust you to go to work, he couldn’t trust you to stay by yourself without the leash and collar either. You looked away from him as he walked back into the bathroom, over to the toilet where he dropped the lid and sat down. He’d have to sit in here with you, until you were finished and then he could escort you to your bedroom. He made a mental note that he would have to keep you taped up in the bathroom downstairs where he left you the first time, you would be safer there than in this bathroom.

Ten minutes went by and the only thing he could focus on was the pair of panties sitting on the floor. He was first connected to you by your panties and the pair you had left on the floor were calling his name. He flashed his eyes over to you for just a second and saw you were busy running your bar of soap over your arms, you probably weren't paying any attention to him at all. He became restless as he thought about what these panties would smell like after not being out for hours, felt his cock growing even harder in his pants and soon he couldn’t take it. You looked away to place the soap back on your bar holder and he reached down and sized the pair. Without hesitating he pressed the crotch into his nostrils and took a long, much needed sniff.

Your scent was much more intoxicating than it had been before and he found his eyes rolling into the back of his head momentarily. His hands shook as he let out the quietest moan he could. He had been on edge almost all evening and smelling your panties was like a drug, calmed him down instantly and brought him peace. He took another sniff, then another, then finally lowered them into his lap where he could get a good look at them. Just like his other favorite pairs these were slightly stained and well loved, just the way he liked them. He once again was reminded that there wouldn’t ever be someone to take these from him like his stepmother. Now he was in charge of the laundry and he would have an endless supply of used panties to sniff and to masturbate in. It was like a dream come true, and he had to remind himself that you were here and you were real.

He looked over at you and found you looking at him, a drop dead, pale-faced look of horror stared back at him.

Chapter Text

In his back pocket your phone vibrates as he’s shimmying the teal nightie over your head. He noticed you staring at it on your nightstand right after he locked the leash around the bedpost. Your thumbs twiddled as he tightened it and when he looked down he saw your iphone sitting there just waiting to be snatched up. He had to admire your determination, when you put your mind to something you tried your best to do it. Ben considered it to be an excellent quality, he just wished you would use it toward something other than getting away from him.

Your nightie looked weird with your bra on underneath, but he refused to look at you without clothes on. When he helped you out of the tub he stared at nothing but your collar while he locked it once again to the toilet and then politely turned away while you dressed in your bra and panties from the day. His heart pounded the entire time, just knowing that you were undressed there behind him made him nervous. The both of you weren’t ready to see each other so vulnerable and he respected that.

He couldn’t deny that you were adorable, though. Sitting there with your thighs all exposed. Your left foot twitched every second and you still refused to look at him, but you were still beautiful. “Ready for bed?” He asked, you nodded your head. “Do you need me to get you a glass of milk, or water or something?” Again, you shook your head. He wasn’t aware of the heavy awkwardness that hung between the two of you and when you finally started to lay down he abruptly stopped you, reaching up into your hair and pulling at your ponytail holder. “I’m sure you don’t want this thing in your hair while you sleep.” He offered, freeing your hair and watching it run down your nearly bare shoulders. You had left it up during your bath and didn’t actually wash it, but it made no difference to Ben. He still ran his fingers through your hair and loved it all the same, then got a brilliant idea. “Wait right there.” He said, hastily standing and rushing into the bathroom and grabbing your hairbrush.

After undressing, placing his clothing in the dirty clothes hamper on top of all of yours, turning your phone off and placing it safely in his backpack, Ben sat in nothing but his boxers with you in between your knees. He took great pleasure in running the brush through your hair time after time. It made him feel wanted, important, and in a weird way loved. He was sure your husband had never done this for you, he was sure no one did this for any of their partners, except for him. You certainly weren’t going to do it before bed, he might as well have done it for you. He took his time, the first few strokes he gently brushed the knots out from the day but every time after that he just used it as an excuse to feel your hair. It was so soft, so shiny, you obviously took care of your hair just as he tried to. He glowed warmly at the thought of you two bonding over your hair, maybe he could make this a routine every night for the two of you.

“Your hair is beautiful.” He whispered, finally dropping the brush into his lap. His hand had just started cramping but he didn’t regret taking the half an hour to brush your hair for you. “Just like the rest of you.” He added, scooting to the edge of his side of the bed. He placed the brush on his nightstand and stood to use the bathroom, when he came out you were lying there on your back. “Do you need the bathroom before we go to sleep?”

“No, no thanks.” You said, but Ben was skeptical. He hadn’t allowed you a bathroom break all evening, but he didn’t want to pressure you into anything. He kept his head down at he stalked over to his side of the bed, bending over to check his backpack and confirmed that your phone was still there. From there he just sat, too nervous to lay down and put himself to rest. He was sleeping next to you, a beautiful woman that he loved. He had always slept by himself and didn’t know how to act, what to do, and how he’d sleep next to the love of his life. Should he hold his arm out and let you sleep on his shoulder, or should he spoon you like the couples on the TV? His felt his heart racing and sweat forming on his brow. He was tired, he wanted to lay down but he didn’t think his stomach would allow it. He was scared, you were scared, and there unfortunately wasn’t much either of you could do to fix it at the moment.

He turned and looked at you over his shoulder, you were playing with the lacy hem of your nightie. You didn’t seem to have the same fears as he did, you seemed relaxed other than your foot shaking. He sighed, told himself the same thing he had been telling you: It’s going to get better. He just has to get to know you, better than what he already knew about you. His eyes swept down your neck, over your arms, and down your thighs; perhaps now would be as good as any to start to get to know you.

He rolled so that he was sitting up and leaning over you, reached out and brushed your cheek and admired your gorgeous face. His thumb ran over your lips and he was surprised to find that they were soft under his skin. Slowly he leaned in, watched the terror in your eyes grow and decided he couldn’t stand the thought of you being afraid of him. Instead of arguing he allowed his eyes to drop the intimate parts of you that he had previously been afraid to look at. Your breasts, they were the perfect size for him. Would they be as soft and smooth as the rest of you? Would his rough hands ruin the most perfect parts of you? He couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering even further; were your nipples the same alluring rosy color as your lips?

He looked back up at your now parted lips, he wanted to kiss them so badly. His hand dropped from your face to your hip where his thoughts instantly went to what was between your legs. Your underwear smelled so divine, he could only think that your actual skin smelled even better. He closes his eyes as he realizes he was too shy even for his own thoughts. It wasn’t your skin that would make your panties so delectable, it was your arousal.

His mouth waters and his cock strains against his underwear as he wonders what it would take to make you wet. What did he have to do to get you to slicken beneath his fingers, to make him smell like you? He imagines what your panties would look like after he kissed you, after he made your body sing with pleasure. What would they taste like? A shiver runs down his spine as he feels his own underwear growing damp with precum. He needed you, and he needed you to answer his desires.

He watches as his hand roams to your thighs and tries to pry them open, but you have them held tightly shut. He’s disappointed, but knows he can’t force it on you. You weren't ready and, truthfully, neither was he. He didn’t think it was the right time for the two of you to give up your virginities, that time would come and when it did he would be ready. Instead his sight comes to rest on your lips, if you weren’t going to let him have what he wanted then the very least he could do was kiss you. He closes his eyes as his own lips part and ducks his head, ready to finally have his first kiss with you when yet another ear piercing scream stops him cold in his tracks.

He opens his eyes and finds you there screaming, tears dripping down your cheeks and your face red as a beet. He’s instantly taken from the mood and rests his hand over your mouth to silence you, yelling at you to be quiet before someone heard you.

“If you don’t want to just say so.” He scolds you, but you’re still whimpering and filling him with remorse. He huffs, as badly as he doesn’t want to be annoyed with you he can’t help but to feel betrayed. He loved you, he should be able to kiss the woman he loved. With you quivering below him he reaches over and shuts the light off, snapping at you to wake him up if you need anything overnight. After he adjusts himself under your covers and is comfortable he feels a lump growing in his throat. Behind him you don’t move and he feels like a horrible partner for putting you in such an uncomfortable situation. He shuts his eyes and fights off his tears; today was only the first day, an introduction of sorts. The two of you had to get used to each other, to spend more time together. Then everything would be just as perfect as he pictured.


Day one. She smells of fear and lavender from the bath I ran her.


The next morning Ben wakes up to his head sinking down into your mattress. It’s enough to jolt him awake, thinking you were in trouble or getting sick or something that needed his urgent attention. He had slept on his side facing you all night so all he had to do was open his eyes to see you on your knees helplessly sawing through your leash with a nail file. You had a dangerous look of concentration on your face as you tried your hardest to penetrate the hard rubber outer layer of the leash with the pointed end of the nail tool, he admired your strength so much but found it to be very silly that you thought a nail file would do the job. The leash was made up of hard rubber, a thick, plastic braided cord with a thin core of uncuttable metal, so the man at the sex shop told him. You would need bolt cutters to get through such a thing, but that didn’t matter to him, the sun was rising and the light blue glow that was cast through the window only accentuated your beautiful, desperate features. He could sit here and watch you struggle all morning long if he had to, but his fun was cut short when your eyes cut to him momentarily.

“Good morning.” He whispered to you. The tool fell from your hand and you just stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights, he couldn’t conceal the massive grin on his face. “Whatcha up to?” He asked, sitting up and reaching for the tool that had fallen between the pillows. You didn’t say anything, your face went pale as you watched him play with it and Ben knew you were remorseful.

“Please don’t hurt me.” You whispered, backing away from him and standing about a foot away from the bed. It was as far as the leash would allow you to go and Ben was happy to let you have just the smallest bit of freedom. He could see that you were afraid of him, but he was too tired to care, really. You were adorable, and he soon realized that he had survived the first night he spent with you. He had spent most of the night staring at you, watching your chest rise and fall to make sure you didn’t pass away. Sometimes he’d drift off for a few hours only to be woken up when you switched positions, thinking you indeed had broken your locks and were running away from him. But no, he stared at you in awe. You were still here with him and he had yet another day to spend with you.

“I’m going to go make us some coffee.” He said, sitting up and swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He could feel your terrified eyes on the back of his head the entire time, he could only pity you. Someday he hoped that you would learn that he wouldn’t hurt you, but that day wasn’t today. She’ll come around. He thought to himself. This was only the true first day, he had a lifetime for you to get used to him. He stood in front of the window fiddling with the nail tool, looking out into your massive back yard. Should he punish you? Should he correct this behavior before it got any worse? He squeezed it in his hand, it was only day one and an escape was to be expected. Maybe it would be better to remove the objects that would aid you in your escape and just punish you afterword. After all, he would hate to see you hurt. He wanted to avoid a punishment at all costs.

“Looks like I’ll have to babyproof our home.” He said, chuckling and walking over to you. He placed a loud kiss on your forehead and gave you the most understanding look he could. “Because you’re my baby.” He turned around and started walking to the bedroom door; for some reason he was feeling more positivity than he had in the last day he had been here. This would work for him, he had a feeling.

Downstairs in the kitchen Ben oogled at your Keurig machine, trying to figure out how it worked. He managed to find the on button which caused the water to heat and the machine to make a bunch of funny noises, but his old family never had anything as fancy as this. He only knew how to dump the coffee grounds into the filter and let it drip down into the pot, none of this K-cup stuff.

Eventually he did figure it out, and soon he was carrying two piping hot mugs of coffee up the stairs. He had this vision the very first time he had came to your home, to stand in front of the big window and have a cup of coffee with you. Today would be the day to act it out, to prove to you that he was the best man for you because he was certain that your husband would never do anything like this. Ben was thoughtful, he was loving, and although he didn’t know much about your late husband he knew that no one could love you better than he could.

He rounded the corner into your room and found you on his side of the bed, desperately reaching down for his backpack on the floor. When you noticed him you fell back onto your butt and crawled submissively back to your side, but he knew what you were doing. He had placed his backpack on the floor at the foot of his side of the bed last night and it contained your cellphone. Your desperation was adorable, but he couldn’t stand the thought of you nearly choking yourself trying to reach it. “Oh, sweetheart.” He said, placing the cups down on the entertainment center that held the flat screen TV. “Don’t do that, you’re going to hurt yourself.” He rushed over to you and laid you back down, realizing he left the key in his pants from yesterday.

“Here, let me unlock you.” He urged, dipping into the closet to retrieve the key from his pants. He’d have to be more careful in the future, sure you couldn’t get to it this time but what if he messed up and left it where you could get it? He would lose you and he’d never be able to forgive himself for his own irresponsibility. He unlocked the leash and freed you from the bedpost, leading you over to the TV where he grabbed your cup of coffee and tried to hand it to you. But you refused to take it, quietly whispering that you weren’t in the mood.

“But everyone loves coffee first thing in the morning.” He said, pushing the coffee toward you even further but you still shook your head. He was upset, he had been counting on this moment all morning long and here you were denying him. He gripped your leash tighter as he felt his frustration building, but he had to remind himself that it was only day one. One day you would want to do this with him, one day. But not today, and that was okay.


The first breakfast you spent together he made you dry scrambled eggs and cut an apple up for the two of you to share. While he cooked he went through your phone, checking your messages and email till he found what he was looking for. : Ok. Thank you for letting me know. We will see you on Monday.


Ben smiled, his email had worked! He also hadn’t realized that today was Friday and that now you’d be off all weekend. He chuckled as he stirred the cooking eggs in the pan, he should probably go back into work tomorrow after calling out today. “Your boss didn’t give us any issues with you calling out today, sweetheart.” He let you know before turning the stove off. “He says he’ll see you on Monday, but I’ll have to call you out again.” He scrapes the eggs onto a plate for you and takes the apples he had sliced earlier to arrange them as beautifully as he could on your place.

“You can’t just keep calling me out.” You say from behind him, he can tell you’re still weak and afraid. “I’ll lose my job if I don’t go back, I can only call out so many times.”

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” Ben says as he checks each drawer till he gets to the silverware. “You just let me take care of it, I’ll make sure you keep your job.” He says as understandingly as he can, then he carries the plate over to you.

You’re in the same spot from last night. Ben has the blinds drawn so that no one can see you and once again you’re tethered to the door handle. He stirs your eggs around your plate before stepping away to serve himself; he would always make sure you’re happy and eating before he got his own food. “Sorry if it’s not that great. I’m not Ramsey Gordon unfortunately.”  He says, and at your lack of reaction he simply turns and walks away.

As he’s pushing the rest of the eggs on his own plate his phone vibrates on the counter. He leans over to check the caller ID and swears when he sees that it’s his father calling. He takes a panicked look at you over his shoulder, decides that he had better answer it. Between his father and his stepmother, his father had always been the nicest. He stuck up for him most of the time when he was under his stepmother's microscope and he never had any issues with him growing up. He feared putting off talking to him would only worsen the situation and perhaps get the police called on him, he had to pick it up.

He picks the phone up and almost swipes from the green circle when he remembers that you’ve tried to scream while he was on the phone multiple times now. He couldn’t answer the phone with your mouth free. He scans the kitchen and finds the duct tape next to the pizza box he had left out, swoops to grab it and then rushes over to you. He tears a piece with his teeth and moves to place it over your mouth but you fight him every step of the way. His phone vibrates in the background, only succeeding in raising his heart rate and increasing the adrenaline running through his body. He doesn’t mean to be as forceful as he is, but he ends up slamming your wrists to the table and contorting himself around you to get the tape over your mouth. “Hush! My dad’s on the phone!” He scolds, you jump at the sound of his voice. Just before he turns around he sees your hands fly to your mouth and he swears again, reached for the duct tape and tears two more pieces off, pins your wrists to the table and paced the tape around them. The phone’s been ringing for a good twenty seconds now and he doesn’t have much time left. With five large strides he runs to the counter and dives for his phone, answering it and pressing it to his ear.

“Hey dad.” He says, leaning on the counter and trying to catch his breath.

“Hey Ben.” His father says with a chuckle, then there’s silence on the line. “How, how are things, son?” Ben shrugs, doesn’t know what to say other than ‘okay.’

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Once again, silence. Ben doesn’t really want to be talking to his dad right now but it’s probably for the best.

“How are you, dad?”

“Oh I’m alright. Your stepmother told me about what happened, that you moved in with mom. But when I called mom she said you weren’t there.” Ben closes his eyes and represses a sigh, running his hand over his face and through his hair. He should have known his meddling stepmother would have breached his privacy like this. What a shame.

“Uh, yeah. I just didn’t want her to know that I, I…” He says, toying with the idea of telling his father that he was in a relationship. He turns and looks at you over his shoulder and, to his horror, you’re pulling against the tape restraints, almost freeing one of your hands. His heart skips a beat as he steps over to you and slams your wrist onto the table, stopping your efforts to free yourself.

“Yeah, sorry dad. I moved in with my girlfriend. I just didn’t want her to know.” You whimper under the tape, he had probably once again been too forceful.

“Girlfriend?” His father sounds stunned. “Oh, Ben. You never told us you had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty new thing. We’ve only been dating for like…” He looks up at you, trying to remember when his interview was. “I don’t know, a few months?” Once again, there’s silence on the line.

“Well, well that’s good to hear. I’m happy for you son.” He smiles, his father was proud of him; it was a feeling Ben didn’t often have growing up. He thanked him, both men giggled momentarily. “When are you going to bring her around? I’d love to meet her.” He asked, Ben grew nervous. He picked his eyes up to you again, it couldn’t be any time soon what with the way you were constantly reacting to him. He didn’t have answer for him, no answer other than not now.

“In a few weeks, maybe. She’s got, um, school. And work. And stuff. She doesn’t have a real, real steady schedule.” His father clears his throat at Ben’s avoidance, and he tries not to take it to heart.

“Okay. That works for me, son.” Ben grits his teeth as he sees the tape on your other hand beginning to pull away from the table, he needed to get off the phone.

“Okay, thanks, dad. I gotta go, I’m sorry.” He says, cutting you a look that only meant to stop. “She, she needs me. I have to get off the phone.”

“I gotcha, son. Listen, if you need anything from me--anything at all-- please don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”

“Okay dad. Thank you.” Ben says, rushing their goodbyes. Ben doesn’t hear it, but before he hangs up his father tells him he loves him. He was too busy giving you a disapproving glare. This was going to be a problem, a problem that he needed a quick solution to.

Chapter Text

Ben decides that now is better than later when you could be sprinting down the street away from him. The escape attempts were becoming out of control and he decided it needed to be addressed right away.

The only issue was, he didn't know how.

Talking to you like a human being, begging you not to be afraid of him wasn’t working. His next options were to either go to physical punishments or to remove things that you like. And so far, out of everything he was allowing you to have the only thing you seemed to find pleasure in was food. He couldn’t take away your food, that was just asking for bad outcomes. He could hit you, but then he would become abusive and that was the last thing he wanted to be. The only thing Ben wanted was to live happily ever after with you; he wanted you to be happy and to love him like he loved you. He had to put his foot down and make you see that escaping was not an option, and he needed help doing so.

After taping you up securely in the bathroom and locking your leash to a pipe in the downstairs bathroom Ben set out on another 45 minute drive to the sex shop he had gone to yesterday. The man had been so knowledgeable about the right collar and leash Ben could only assume he would also know about punishments too. He was unloading a box of handcuffs onto the counter when Ben walked in, and as soon as their eyes met the man smiled wide.

“Hey man, good to see you again!” The shop was just as empty as it was when he came last night, and Ben was thankful for it. Seeing the chains, the whips, and the sex toys made him nervous. He had never been into all this, it was too heavy for him. Part of him felt like he was in the wrong place but the man had unapologetically helped him before, he had no reason to think he wouldn’t help him now. “How’s the leash and collar holding up?”

“Oh, you know.” Ben stumbled around while eyeing a long, elastic sex swing that was hanging from the ceiling. He was intimidated, didn’t even know what half of the stuff in this store was.  “She likes it.”

“Oh does she?” The man crossed his arms and chuckled at him. “I told you man. They can’t get enough of that big collar. What brings you in again?”

Ben swallows the build-up of saliva that had been stuck in his throat since the minute he pulled up, he doesn’t know how to ask for help in his predicament. “I need, I just…” He stumbles over his words several times while sweating under the gaze of a brown teddy bear that sat upon the counter, dressed in full head to toe leather that included a face mask and a small plush whip. “I need a way to punish her when she, um, acts up.” He says, his eyes darting back to the man. Once again he lets out laugh that bubbled from his belly, throwing his head back and taking another step toward him.

“Got one of those bratty subs? The ones that just ache to be punished?” He did his best to keep the confusion off of his face. A sub? What did that mean in this world of BDSM? In the end all he did was nod his head and agree with the man. “Yeah man, I feel you. I got a sub that does just that. I tell him to do one thing and he does the opposite just so he can get some personal time with the whip. It’s what they do, sometimes they just want your attention.”

Ben stares at him in awe, it takes him a minute to move past the attention portion to the fact that this man just admitted he had a sub too. He recognized that a “sub” in this conversation referred to you, so in his mind the man had just admitted to having a man held at his house just as Ben did. He could hardly believe it, Ben thought he was the only one but clearly not. “You mean, you do this too?” Ben asks.

“Of course, man!” The man says proudly. “My subs and I, we’re super close. I love them like any dominant would.” The man leans in closer, whispering to Ben as if he were telling him the most well-kept secret of his life. “Us doms, we gotta stick together. We gotta learn from each other and look out for one another.” He winked, stepping over to a wall full of different kinds of whips and riding crops. “Now, you seem kind of new. I’ll teach you all about punishment.” He says. The acquisition stabs Ben right into his heart, but he figures sitting and listening to what he had to say would be better than going in blind.

“Number one rule of punishment: It must fit the crime. So you have your options. If she talks back you can always gag her, if she tries to hit you then you have different kinds of handcuffs, and if she has an issue with going where she’s not supposed to you can always bind her feet with a leg spreader to make it harder for her to walk.” The man said, pointing each and every one of the tools he had mentioned. “If none of that sounds appealing to you then a good spanking works wonders.” He held his arms out to the whips that had caught his attention the first time. Finally, something he could understand.

“Try it with your hand first, maybe take a set of these home with you because spanking will hurt your hand after a while.” From off a rack the man pulls a pair of thin leather gloves and hands them to him. Ben runs his fingers over them and stretches them out, they were the opposite of the gloves his father had. Those were for working, these were for something entirely different. “Some do like the shared pain, but at the end of the day it’s your sub that matters. These will definitely add more intensity to your sessions, they’re soft against the skin yet make a louder sound on impact.”

Ben follows his hand up the wall to the other tools and listens as the man goes back into his explanation. “Now if she wants more of a sting, you have these. Different kinds of whips, riding crops, paddles, the whole nine yards.” He follows the man along the wall as he goes into the pros and cons of each instrument, but eventually something else catches his attention. On the shelf next to a premium leather riding crop sits a section labeled ‘Bottoms Up!’ A small display of colorful rounded objects sit at the very top, and the bubblegum pink one catches his eye.

“What are those?” Ben asks, pointing to the shiny object that was suspended inside of a plastic case. It was only about the size of his thumb and looked to be made out of glass

“They’re butt plugs.” The man says, taking the pink one he had been admiring off the shelf and handing it to him. “Just insert and leave it there for extra pleasure. It’s a piece of cake. We also have a special type of lube to help ease it in.” He hands Ben the lube and he smiles, there was so much he didn’t know about giving pleasure. At the end of the day he was thankful he had come to this man.

“This is perfect. It matches her vibrator.” He beams at the man who smiles proudly back to him. “She’ll love it.”

When it comes time to leave and return to you Ben’s spent a little over $100 on the gloves, the buttplug, and the lube. He was burning through his money from this pay period fast, he had to be more conservative if he were going to be able to pay your bills for you. Nevertheless, Ben drove home a happy man, excited to use what he had learned on you. He wasn’t so sure about the buttplug, but he felt a spanking with the gloves he had just bought would be enough to set you straight.

He charged into the house and into the bathroom where he found you sleeping of all things. Your cheeks were red and your hair was a mess, he was willing to bet you had cried yourself to sleep. He dropped to a squat and clicked his tongue at you, cooing to bring you out of your slumber while pushing your hair from your face.

“Sweetheart, wake up please.” He whispers to you, running his thumb over the duct tape on your mouth. When you finally pry your eyes open he’s so giddy that he can barely contain his excitement. “Hey, there you are.” He says sweetly, ignoring your once again pink and puffy eyes. “I have more gifts for you.”

He’s quick to pull the bag in front of your face, reaching in and pulling the first thing his hand touched. “See this? This is called a buttplug.” He watches your eyes widen and the fear race through them, but it can’t confine his happiness. “The man at the shop says they feel good, and it matches your toy so I had to buy it for you.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out the lube and sets it aside, offhandedly telling you that it was just lube for the plug.

“And these,” He says, eyeing you for a reaction. “These are special.” He holds the gloves in front of your face but you stare at them in confusion. “The man at the shop also told me he has a man like you at his home. A sub. He says that subs act up and break the rules because they like being punished sometimes.” He’s vibrating in excitement as you stare at his knees, but your look of horror can’t stop him. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t realize. But I know now, and I think what you need is a good spanking. For trying to draw attention to yourself while I was on the phone with my dad.”

Ben reaches down in between your ankles and peels the tape off, going for your arms to pull you up next. You groan, he figures you’ve finally figured out what he’s going to do to you, but that was okay. Sooner or later you would need this, you couldn’t just go running off from him.

He steps behind you and pushes you out into your living room, going through step by step what he’s going to do to you the entire way there. “I’m going to sit down on the couch, I’m going to bend you over my knee, push that sexy nightie up, take your panties and spank you." He grips the leash in his hand so you can’t go running from him, and from the petrified sounds coming from under the tape he thinks it’s a smart idea. He drops down onto the couch and immediately grows nervous, he had never done anything like this before and doesn’t know if he can do it correctly. The words from the man behind the counter echo throughout his mind: It’s what they want. It’s what you want. You disobey because it’s what you want.

“I’m doing this for you, sweetheart.” Ben says as he tugs you closer to him. You look so broken as you rapidly shake your head there in front of him, pulling away from him and crying. Ben can’t help but to feel guilty of your fear, but you had a lesson to learn. Maybe one good spanking would do the trick, five lashes with his hand would set you straight and he’d never have to do it again.

He reaches up and gently peels the tape off of your mouth, leaving you free to whine and babble as he pulls you between his knees. He figures it would already be uncomfortable enough being spanked, he wouldn’t want you to be unable to communicate with him too. From there he pulls you into position, fighting with you to get you to comply until you’re securely bent over his knee. Your arms are still taped behind your back and it makes it easy for him to tug your panties down your legs. They’re still the same ones from yesterday and he can’t help but to lift them to his nose. The scent calmed him, put it into perspective of what he had to do and he looked down to your backside with no fear whatsoever. He ran his hand over the curve of your ass, ravished the feeling of your smooth, warm skin and momentarily forgets that he’s supposed to be using the gloves.

He laughs at himself as he realizes he’s just too into you, reaches over and puts one of the gloves on. Unlike the gloves he had taken from his father his fingers flex easily, and when placed on your cheek he can still feel the warmth of your body. He loves seeing you wiggle against him, love seeing the flesh of your ass gyrate under his hand so much that his cock twitches in his pants. “Hopefully this will teach you not to run from me, sweetheart.” He says before lifting his arm in the air, ready to strike so hard it would send your head spinning.

“Wait!” You scream amongst your tears, trying to shift your lower half off of his lap. “I’ll do anything, anything else! Just please don’t hit me!” You sob, he wasn’t originally going to stop but the words sound promising enough. He rests his gloved hand on your ass again and feels you leap in fear, you’re absolutely losing control of your body there in his lap.

“Anything else?” He asks you, and you reply by violently shouting the same words back at him. Anything else could mean a lot of things, lots of things that Ben was interested in.

He already knew you wouldn’t be interested in sex, perhaps something shorter and sweeter would suffice him. “Would you be willing to kiss me?” He asked, taking the time to lean you back and stand you up between his knees again. You hesistated, recklessly wiped your face on your shirt as best as you could without using your hands and then nodded. “Like you mean it? Like you love me?”

“Yes.” You whined back, and nothing could have excited him more.

“Because you do love me, right?” He looked you up and down starting from your knees and going all the way up to your red and puffy face. For some reason, it turned him on even more to know that beneath your nightie you had nothing on. You nodded your head again, but that wasn’t good enough for him.

“Say it.” He sneered, suddenly feeling desperate enough to be short with you. “Say it and mean it. Say you love me.” You took in a sharp breath as Ben’s fingers shook feverishly. He didn’t care about your look of fear or your severe apprehension. He wanted to hear you say it, to admit that you loved him just as much as he loved you. You whimpered as tears still fell down your cheeks, Ben was losing his patience.

You had promised him you’d do anything for him and your refusal enraged him. He reached up and grabbed you by the arms and began shaking you to get you to speak. “Say it! Say you love me damn it!” The action only made the fear come quicker and as your head bobbed violently back and forth you let out the words he wanted to hear: “I. Love. You.”

“What?” He asked, immediately ceasing his movement of you and feeling his fury melt away. “What? Say it again, sweetheart.” He begged softly, leaning up and looking you deep into your eyes. You were quaking in his grasp, he hadn’t meant to scare you but it’s what he needed at the moment. “Please, say it again.”

Your head snapped to the right and you looked away, the word ‘no’ slithering from between your teeth. A look of confusion appears momentarily on his face before his thick black eyebrows turned down toward his nose. “What do you mean no? You said you loved me.” You shook your head and held your eyes shut, once again whispering the word no back to him.

“You got what you wanted, now  leave me the fuck alone!” You bellowed, turning to sobs once again. He scowled at you, and in the blink of an eye Ben went from desperate to furious yet again.

You screeched as he took ahold of your jaw and bared his teeth at you. Ben couldn’t ever recall a time where he had been this angry. How dare you. How dare you say such a thing to him when he had gone out of his way and spent his hard earned money all for you. Ben sees red as he squeezes your jaw so tight he can almost feel your bones flexing in his grasp. You needed to learn your lesson and you needed it now.

“Kiss me, you ungrateful bitch.” He sneers, but at the prospect of finally kissing your viciously sexy lips he can’t wait for you to willingly do it. His lips crash against yours and he can taste the salty fear that had cascaded down your face many times now. Your lips part after half a second and a scream is born from your throat, to which Ben once again grips your face and silences you. With his forehead pressed against yours he swats at your ass, causing you to jump back into him. “It’s either this or I spank you. Your choice.” He shouts, then assures you he can go much harder than that.

When neither of you responds he brings his hand back and slaps your ass as hard as he can, causing you to arch your back and howl directly in front of his face. “This one is for making a scene while my dad was on the phone.” He says, feeling an insane amount of power flowing through every vein in his body. His face is stone cold as he brings his hand back and spanks you again, this time you sag in his arms. “This one is for trying to break your leash this morning.” A pained groan full of mourning echoes around Ben and he feels like your lesson is finally penetrating through your skull.

“Please!” You cry, doing your best to move your lower half to a place where he can’t reach it. “Please, I’ll kiss you. I’ll, I’ll love you. Please stop hitting me!” You babble on. It’s music to Ben’s ears.

“Then you’d better stand up and kiss me.” Ben says with more authority than ever before. The second the words leave his mouth you shoot up as quick as you can, leaning into him as if your life depended on it.

But, it’s not what Ben wanted.

He didn’t want you to be forced into kissing him. He wants you to do this willingly, he wants this to be consensual. He covers your entire face with his hand and pushes you away. “Tell me you want to kiss me.” He says, squeezing your ass to intimidate you; to remind you of what he was capable of.

“I want to kiss you.” You say without skipping a beat. A smile curls onto his face as butterflies rise in his belly, the two of you were about to share your very first real kiss. And Ben was as nervous as he was the very first time he had kissed his ex-girlfriend.

Time slows down as he lifts his fingers to your chin, gently pulling you into him. The tears on your face were pungent and unsightly, but he wasn’t going to let that get in the way of this perfect moment. His lips part and he leans into you, this time he takes the time to savor the moment. He’s not angry, he’s not irritated, he’s not high off of the power he's been awarded. He’s tender, he’s slow, and most importantly he accepts the gift you give him. He rests his lips against yours to allow you to adjust and when you don’t move he reaches his gloved hand behind your head and pushes you into him. He exhales against your lips momentarily before you finally open yours and allow him access to your mouth. You’re stiff, you’re unwilling, but it doesn’t matter to Ben. He needs more from you, the kissing is no longer enough.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you onto him, bending your legs at his sides so that you were straddling him. He shuddered, remembering you were bare from the waist down and your bare sex would be up against his crotch. He bucks against you ever so slightly, feeling the blood rapidly rushing to his cock as he realizes this was the perfect position. You on top, leading him into this new world of sexuality. He’d hold your hand, he’d trust you and everything you did for him. There was no one he would rather lose his virginity to than you.

You stare at him in nervousness for just a second before he pulls your head down to him one more time, forcing your lips to his. His tongue brushes against yours and he groans over your near silent, scared whimpers. This was everything he imagined it to be, and he only saw one possible way to end it.

He stammers, the amount of arousal he felt made it impossible for him to speak coherently so instead he feels his way around your body, dropping his hands down your spine and to your now exposed ass. He gropes you, earning a muffled yelp but he can hardly concentrate on what’s going on in the real world rather than what he’s plotting in his head.

His hands slip from your thighs to his, and he finds just enough time to break the kiss off to squeeze his hands between the two of you to get to his crotch. He’s so turned on that at the mere feeling of his own hand brushing up against his bulge he feels an alarming amount of precum leaking out perhaps a little too fast. But now was the time, it felt so right. Now would be the time where the two of you would lose your virginities to one another, and Ben wouldn’t have it any other way.

As carefully as he can he frees his erection, springing to attention in a matter of seconds. He hears you gasp as he exposes himself for the first time and can only assume that you were surprised at his size. He had googled what the average penis size was erect and found it was around five inches; Ben was pushing nine. He has a look of compassion and awe on his face as he pushed himself closer to you, holding you back as you struggled against him. “No, please don’t--” You say over and over, but the only thing he can hear is ‘please.’ In his mind you wanted this, you wanted him and you wanted him to take your virginity.

So he scoots himself forward, pushes the sensitive, deep red head of his cock against your cunt. He had never regretted anything so fast.

His cock slides across your slit for a total of four seconds and Ben loses it. He knows it’s your cunt, he can feel the smallest amount of slick on the head of his cock and his body convulses. He groans, throws himself forward as his other hand comes around your back and holds you there against him. He doesn’t know if it’s your inner or outer labia, he doesn't know if it’s your clit but what he does know is he’s touched you in an intimate area, and it’s enough to completely unravel him.

He’s cumming faster than he realizes and he can feel your body go stiffer than it had before. His face goes white as he finishes all over your cunt, showering almost every inch of your skin with his seed. You fall back and he allows you to stumble to your feet in front of him, his eyes go from his still erect cock up to you, and he can’t believe what he sees.

You stand there in the middle of your living room, legs spread, nightgown listed while observing the damage done to your crotch. His seed seeps slowly once into your carpet and you stare down in disgust, your face as white as a sheet. Ben’s too comfortable in his post-sex state to say anything, instead he focuses your attention on your cunt. He’s no longer afraid to look at every inch of you, to see everything you had to offer him. He can just barely see the shape of your lips underneath the thick spattering of his cum, and to him it’s perfect. He wants to touch you, to explore you more and see every inch of you. Sure he hadn’t actually had sex with you, sure he had finished much too quickly, but it was the closest he had ever been to your cunt. The thought of you wanting to show him everything excites him, and without even thinking he sits up and reaches for your hips. However, he doesn’t get to touch you.

Instead he watches as you sprint away from him, your leash patterning across the carpet like a flag behind you.

Chapter Text

It takes Ben a few seconds to realize what’s happening, but when he does he’s quick to jump to his feet. He shouts your name as he chases you all the way to your front door, wondering how he could have been so stupid. He let go of the leash, wasn’t even holding onto it as he started to fuck you. He was irresponsible, and if he didn’t catch you he’d pay the price.

His long legs made it easy for him to come within arms reach of you. Alarms were still going off in his head as he nearly leaped for your neck and pushed you into the door, pressing your face against the wood with a bone-chilling knock. “Where are you going?” He asked, panic rising in his throat. “What are you, what were you doing?” He babbles while the feeling of betrayal stinging him square in his chest. He can hear the door creaking under your body as you bawl into the white wood, but he’s selfish at the moment. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you once again tried to run away after he had explicitly punished you for it. “I just, I just spanked you for trying to escape. You didn’t learn? Do you need me to do it again?” He asks, the word failure becoming front and center in his mind.

The first spanking he had given you obviously wasn’t enough. The power rush he got numbed him to reality and he realized you were in pain. He didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted you to just listen to him. To not run away, to not do this. He tucked his head into the back of your neck and broke down into sobs, feelings of inadequacy completely taking him over.

“No matter what I do, it’s not enough.” He bawled into your hair. He doesn't know what to do, where to go, or how to drill it into your thick skull that all you need to do is to be happy. He wouldn’t be like this if you were happy, if you enjoyed his company. “What do I have to do to make you see it? Tell me. Just tell me!” He begs, but the only response he gets is your own broken sobs.

“I was running upstairs!” You shout into the wood. “I wanted to get clean, I wasn’t running away!” Ben stops, wipes his face off in your hair and tries to regroup. Where had he grabbed you? Was it closer to the stairs or to the door? He can’t think clearly, he’s too emotional. Instead he allows himself to continue crying over you, nods his head against the back of yours. You were running to the bathroom before you made too much of a mess. Of course, how could he have overreacted? His hand goes from your hip down to the leash and he pulls you away from the door and toward the stairs. He was so consumed by his guilt that he didn’t see the blood stains on the white wood.


“I promise I’d love you if you let me go.” You whisper quietly to him as he runs the warm washcloth over your back. You sit with your knees drawn to your chest while Ben did all the hard work for your bath. He washed the blood from your busted lip, he washed your arms, your back, and your chest, and now he sat listening to you beg for your freedom.

“I can’t do that, sweetheart.” He said as softly as he could, switching gears and wetting your hair with the washcloth. “I know if I let you go you won’t come back. I may be love drunk but I’m not stupid.” You don’t say anything in reply and Ben simply goes back to washing your hair. “I have to work early tomorrow, eight to four. I’m going to wake you up and put you in the bathroom, then I’ll be home around four thirty and we can have dinner and spend time together.” He eases onto you, and at the sight of you beginning to cry again he has to hold back his own tears. He thinks the two of you have passed a huge milestone to cry together and he’s proud of your relationship, but that didn’t mean he liked seeing you cry.

“I know that you’re afraid. I’ll be gone for a long time but I’ll be back. I’ll even cook us dinner if you want, I just want you to be happy.”  You shake your head as the gentle sounds of your cries mix with the water dripping from the washcloth, it’s a very sad scene but Ben wouldn’t stop until you were clean.

“I have to be by myself forever. Can you at least leave me my phone so I can, just have entertainment? I don’t want to sit taped up in the bathroom for eight hours with nothing to do!” Ben assess the situation and realizes that you were right. It would be a long time just sitting there doing nothing, but leaving you your cellphone was just asking for trouble.

“No, you’re right. I understand.” Ben says as he squirts some shampoo and conditioner into his hands and rubs them together. “I’ll go back home and get my laptop tonight and load some movies up on it for you. That way you won’t be so bored and lonely.” The solution works for Ben, but from the broken look on your face it does not work for you. He washes your hair in silence and moves on to your cunt, soaping up a washcloth before dropping it in between your legs.

“I, I got it. Don’t--” You protest, reaching for the cloth to try and clean yourself.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Ben says as he pulls it out of your grasp. “I made this mess, I’ll clean it up for you.” The smugness in his voice makes even him smile as he worms his way between your legs and caresses your intimate area. He closes his eyes and tries to keep his thoughts straight; this wasn’t supposed to turn him on, but he can’t stop his cock from twitching as he feels your cunt from the other side of the washcloth. All negative thoughts aside Ben truly can’t believe you’re his. Your tears, your words, your skin, and your cunt that he was running the washcloth along. He can’t help but to smile as he mouths the word to you: mine.


That night Ben pulled into the driveway of his old home and let out a pained sigh. His stepmother’s car was in the driveway but not his father’s and that only meant one thing to him: discomfort. He sat in his car for a long time and wondered if tonight would be a good night to retrieve some of his personal belongings. He ran his hand down his face, reminding himself that you were at home tied up waiting for him to come back. He couldn’t put it off and he didn’t want you to sit in the bathroom all day long alone. He lets out an angry growl as he exits his car and walks up the steps, inserts his key into the keyhole and lets himself in.

It’s quiet, and he wastes no time in darting down to his own room. The house seems empty as he turns from the living room and down the hallway, at least until Rey poked her head out of the kitchen calling out for ‘her father.’

“Dad! I need your help fixing--” She stopped and eyed Ben suspiciously before greeting him with what Ben considered to be a look of disgust. “Mom! Ben’s back home, just like you said!” Ben turned away and decided not to respond to the statement, instead pushing past her to his bedroom.

“Did someone talk some sense into that poor girl?” His mother called from her bedroom down the hall.

Ben had to hold his tears back as he made the longer than usual walk to his bedroom, and when he finally made it he slammed the door behind him. Everything looked familiar to him and nothing was out of place. He feels himself relaxing as he remembers running here to calm down just days before, to look at your photos and disappear from his family. He throws his empty backpack onto his bed and packs what he originally came for. His old, beaten up laptop and its charger just barely fit and he decides to fit the rest of the space with more clothes.

As he’s packing there’s a soft knock on the door but he can’t be bothered to open it. Instead he takes to filling the pockets of his backpack with the small trinkets he had collected over the years. He’s annoyed when he hears the door opening behind him and sees his dainty stepsister walking into her room.

“Did she leave you?” She asked, but Ben ignores her. He doesn’t even have the energy to argue with her. The only thing he needs to do is pack and get back to you; his stepfamily doesn’t matter.

“Well I hope she didn’t leave you. I kept your room intact, just in case you did come back.” Rey speaks softly. It’s the first time Ben can detect a form of sympathy in her voice. He turns around to look at her and finds her smiling somewhat understandingly at him, but he doesn’t care at all.

“You know, mom was happy you left, but I was kinda sad. I mean, not that you spend a lot of time with us, but you’re my stepbrother. I just missed you, at least a little bit.” Ben closes his eyes and drinks in his stepsister’s words. For some reason he finds he can’t believe her. Rey irritated him and her mother had emotionally abused him. Her words didn’t seem genuine enough to him and he found himself once again ignoring her. Once his back was packed and hoisted over his shoulder he turned and left his room, refusing to acknowledge Rey and her words that Ben perceived to be empty.

“I can ask mom if you can stay for dinner if you want. Dad’s gonna be home in--”

“No thanks.” Ben said as he shuffled past her. He had promised you that he would heat the pizza from last night as your dinner and he would rather dine with you, his new family, than with these people he’s come to reject.


Day 2. She smells of flowers from her neighbor's yard.


Ben’s phone alarm goes off at 6 AM the next day. It’s enough time for him to wake you up, heat you a strawberry pop tart and get you a glass of orange juice, tape you up and tie you to the pipe in the bathroom. He was happy that you had stopped struggling against him when he did tape you. He really didn’t have the time to waste in getting to work today, so he was sure to thank you as he set up his laptop to play a series of movies on repeat: The Notebook, Troy, and Indiana Jones among others. He didn’t expect you to be awake for all of them, having slipped a 3 Mg melatonin in your orange juice while you weren’t looking so that you could sleep most of the day. After all, time passes quicker when you're asleep.

As he set the laptop up to run the movies he had downloaded an interesting idea struck him. Instead of shutting off the wifi to keep you from being able to contact anyone Ben thinks of something even better. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his cell phone and pulls up the Skype app, signing into a different account from the one he had on his laptop. From there he added the two accounts together and called the account on the laptop. He smiled as he saw himself appear on the phone and realized his plan did indeed work.

Not wanting you to become suspicious he reached behind him and ripped a small portion of the duct tape and placed it on top of the light next to the camera so you couldn’t see it. He checked his phone and, after confirming that everything was working as smoothly as he wanted it to be he placed the laptop at the edge of the sink. He angled the screen down until he was satisfied with the view he got from his cellphone, disabled his microphone and set the movies to play one after the other.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Ben says as he pulls the blanket up closer to your chin and fluffs the pillow behind your head. “I’ll be home around four thirty, okay?” He assures you, thinking he can already tell you’re falling asleep. He bends down and kisses your temple before seeing himself out, leaving for his car which is parked in the driveway right next to yours.

On his way out he notices how still and quiet it is, that no one was around and it gave him some time to think. What had happened yesterday was awful of him, in fact he almost regretted buying the gloves to begin with. He thought about how both of you cried against the door, about how even split your lip with how emotional he became. It wasn’t fair to you, and as far as he could remember he hadn’t adequately apologized. He sighed, placed his head against the steering wheel trying to hold off his tears. He loved, you hadn’t deserved anything he did to your yesterday--including the fact that he had came on you.

He looked around, pulled his phone out of his pocket and plugged it into his car charger so that he could see you on his drive to work. You were sitting there, tape still covering your mouth staring at the screen. He smiled, then his mind darted to something that had caught his eye earlier that morning.

To the side of your next door neighbors house sat a small garden that housed several round, colorful flowers. The pointed petals of the flowers made them appear symmetrical and he instantly fell in love. The sun had only started to rise and he was sure your neighbors wouldn’t be awake so early on a Saturday morning. As quietly and as quickly as he could he rose from his car and crept into the neighbor's yard, haphazardly grasping one of the pink flowers and plucking it from their garden. Once he had five or six of them in his hands he scurried like a raccoon back to his car where he laid them gently down on the passenger seat. Before driving off, however, he stopped to look at you on his phone once again. You were still there, still staring uninterestedly at the screen back at him. He chuckled ever so slightly as he thought about how happy the flowers would make you. The bottom line was, he couldn’t wait to come home and see you.


Eight hours at work came and went quickly. Ben had spent his time in the delivery car with his phone hooked up to the charger looking at you. Not much had changed in the time he was gone. He watched you sleep, he watched you wake, he watched you wiggle about to free yourself. Each and every time he wished he could be there with you, to hold you and tell you that he was hopeful one day you wouldn’t need the duct tape. Before he left, however, he came up with one final brilliant idea.

Before leaving work for the day Ben unrolled some of the near translucent parchment paper and snuck out the door with it. When he got to his car he placed the flowers in the center of the paper and rolled them into a crude, strange looking bouquet. He twisted it in his hand, and when he had decided that it would be the perfect gift to apologize about his actions the previous day he felt he couldn’t get home to you fast enough. He set the flowers down on the passenger seat and his face turned to an immediate frown when it fell completely apart. He let out a frustrated sigh, taking the parchment paper in his hand and wondering how he could fix the situation. He took a look around his embarrassingly messy car for any kind of stringy material; a shoelace, the pull string of a hoodie, a discarded straw sleeve, anything. But for as many things as he had in his car he did not find one thing that could keep the parchment paper around the stems. He was disappointed, but it was no bother. All he had to do was go into your office and assemble the gift before he came to free you. It was as easy as that.


“Sweetheart!” Ben calls out as he hurried into your home, this time running past the bathroom and into your office. “I’m home! Give me just a second, I have another gift for you!” He calls out, realizing that every time he’s come home now he’s had some kind of present.  He flops down into the chair and immediately surveys your desk. The first thing he sees is regular old tape, and he’s quick to seize it. He didn’t bother to move your keyboard out of the way before laying out the parchment paper and placing the flowers down. He rolled them just like in his car and then taped the paper down, and with a hefty smile on his face he stood from the chair. Or at least he almost did. His eyes fell on your pen cup and a black sharpie within it, he had one more great idea.

He bursts through the door of the bathroom full of energy, holding the bouquet of flowers behind his back to conceal them from your view. “Honey, I’m home!” He says, laughing at his on cheesiness. You lift your head from the floor to look at him, you looked tired and defeated while the harsh sounds of Thor Ragnarok played in the background. He drops to his knees before you and sets the flowers down on the ground behind him, reaching in between your ankles to undo the tape and then doing the same for your wrists.

“I hope you love your gift. It’s an apology gift, for how I acted yesterday.” Ben says to you, slowly his giddiness fades as he remembers the beating he laid upon you. He reaches for the tape and rips it right off of your mouth, causing you to flinch and a nasty ring of red to glow around your lips. On your jaw were small circular black and purple bruises from when he had gripped your face. The swelling on your lip had been the exact same and had even started bleeding under the tape again. The sights mixed with your obvious fear only enhanced Ben’s guilt and he felt he couldn’t get the flowers to you fast enough.

He reached behind him and seized the flowers, then asked you to stand with him. “Again, I’m sorry. Here, I want you to have these.” With a gulp he brings his hand from behind his back and presents the flowers to you. He can’t read your reaction, or lack thereof. Your eyebrows knit down to your nose as you stare at the vibrant flowers in his hand. You don’t reach for them, you don’t try and sniff them, and Ben starts to feel incredibly awkward. “I got them next door. I don’t know what kind of flowers they are, but they’re beautiful and they reminded me of you.” You still stand there looking on the verge of happy or somber tears. Ben waits, but eventually can’t take it anymore. He shoved the bouquet into your arms for you, causing you to stumble back. He makes sure to place them with the note he had written up so that you could read it. He had scribbled the typical To/from on the outside of the paper, but instead of putting Ben he had signed the name Benny as beautifully as he could. It wasn’t that great, but he did try.

You sat there and stared at the flowers in your arms and once again didn’t provide him with any reaction other than a few tired sniffs. To anyone else it would have been an obvious sign of fear and stress, but Ben managed to convince himself that you loved them just as much as he loved you. “Well, come on. You’re probably hungry. I’ll get you a snack before dinner.” He says, reaching into his back pocket to unlock the end of your leash. He had missed you all day during his first day back to work and he wouldn’t let your disappointment in his gift ruin his quality time with you.

That evening he made grilled ham and cheese sandwiches for the two of you. You had the flowers sitting in your lap all evening long as Ben went on and on about his day at work. He was happy to see that you had picked your sandwich up and took five whole bites before declaring that you weren’t hungry anymore. You hadn’t eaten your second Poptart for breakfast and he was sure you were hungry. He smiled at you from across the table but all you did was stare at him. He had to wonder when you would smile at him next.


The two of you hung out in the living room that evening and watched Orange is the New Black on Netflix for a few hours until Ben noticed you beginning to nod off on the couch next to him. He placed his hand on your knee and you jolted awake. “Are you ready for bed?” He asked you, you rubbed your eyes and nodded your head.

Secretly Ben wished you would talk to him more. He had been with you for so long, and had lived here for a full two days. You hadn’t said more than a handful of words to him and, truthfully, Ben was hurt. What kind of girlfriend doesn’t enjoy talking to her other half? He had tried his hardest to voice his appreciation to you, to tell you every day that he loved you, but you still didn’t reciprocate anything he did. He knew it was sudden and had still been telling himself that he was in an adjustment period, but he was becoming impatient. How much longer until you fully adjusted to him? Until you were able to voice your feelings to him, to tell him that you loved him and to show him affection? It saddened him, but he was determined not to let it stop him from loving you.

On his way up the stairs Ben held your leash in one hand and your hand in the other, taking the time to stroke your knuckles affectionately. You were cold and clammy, very stiff as he led you into the bedroom and onto the bed. Just like last night he locked the end of the leash to the bedpost to keep you there all night. You had the most hurt look on your face as he did. He knew it was the leash and collar that made you uncomfortable, he knew you would rather be able to roam around your home freely but the trust wasn’t there. You were afraid of him, and he knew as soon as you got the opportunity you would run as far away from him as possible. He closed his eyes as he sat up, quelling any anger and nervousness from the thought of you running away.

“I’m going to go have a shower.” He said, realizing he hadn’t showered at all since he first came here. “Do you, do you want to come with?” He asked before he had the opportunity to chicken out. He had seen people have sex in the shower before and it looked like a lot of fun, but as you shook your head no Kylo’s optimism decreased. “Okay, that’s fine.” He said, forcing a smile upon his face. “Do you want me to get you some clean…” He said, swallowing a hefty wad of saliva before the word actually left his lips. “ Panties?” His voice cracked and he felt his cock twitch in his pants. Your panties were one of the many things that turned him on about you and they were near the top of his long list. He thought that he could sniff them before his shower, touch himself and get himself off before bed if you wouldn’t entertain him in the shower.

“No, thanks.” You said, covering yourself with the blanket and rolling over on your side away from him.  Again, Ben was left with a growing erection that he knew you wouldn’t be willing to help him with. He turned away from you to head toward the shower when he remembered he had wanted to take a look through your phone, just to be sure no one was trying to contact you. He rushed over to his backpack where he picked up your phone and tried to turn it on. It had died in his backpack there in the corner of your room. He sucked his teeth and carried it over to your side of the bed where he unplugged your charger and took both items to the bathroom.

Before his shower he plugged the phone into the outlet next to the sink and assured it was charging, and when the Apple logo popped up on the screen he felt satisfied enough to jump into your larger than life shower. He had never seen a shower that was separate from the bathtub before. There were all sorts of luxuries in the cubical; Dials that controlled the spray, heat, and the ‘massage’ level, a little caddy to hold all of your soaps, shampoos, and body washes, and to top it all off you had a removable shower head that could get him clean everywhere. Ben felt like the richest man alive as he stepped in and the water was scalding hot, hotter than his shower at his parent's house ever got. However, he had to remind himself that, even if the two of you were living in a tent under a bridge, he’d still be rich because you were all he needed.

His shower ended and he had toweled off while your phone booted up. Your phone was locked to your fingerprint so he was unfortunately unable to unlock it. But that was fine, because as he wrapped the towel around his waist all of your notifications poured in from the last two days and he was diligently paying attention to each one of them.

Most of them were from Facebook and Instagram, people liking, people commenting on your posts. He swiped a few of them away as he brushed his teeth using your toothbrush and toothpaste, making a mental note to buy a brush of his own later. More notifications poured in, emails, app updates, texts messages, he couldn’t believe how popular you were. As he was spitting the toothpaste out one message in particular caught his eye. It was sent from a contact labeled “Boss Man” and he could only see the first sentence and a half:

Hope you’re doing okay. I’ll see you…


Ben scowled as he set the toothbrush down and pressed on the message to see if he could read the rest, but it only prompted him to set his finger down on the sensor. This was your boss? What was he trying to say, why did he need to see you? Your phone had only charged 20 percent while he was in the charger, but he felt like you owed him an explanation. He angrily seized the phone when another old message came in, this time it was from a contact labeled “Nina:”

Hey, you never told me how your date last week…


Another message from Nina followed, beginning with “Eric told me you were sick” but Ben hardly cared. He was furious to hear that you had gone on a date the week before he moved in. He wasn’t thinking about the fact that you didn’t know he was coming, he didn’t even think about the fact that you hardly knew him before he moved in with you. In his mind the two of you had been dating since the day he had met you, and the fact that you had gone on a date meant you had cheated on him. He unplugged the phone and rushed out of the bathroom to confront you,

“You went on a date last week?” He said in the most accusatory tone ever. You had still been lying on your side and picked your head up to look at him, and when you didn’t say anything Ben only further plunged into his deep, unstable thoughts. “Nina just texted you and said you went on a date. But, but how could you--we’ve been dating for…” He stumbled over his words as he felt tears brimming in his eyes. He looked to the floor as he threw your phone down, the words ‘how could you?’ tumbled from his lips and he felt broken.

“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You said, he could hear you moving around on the bed and when he looked up you were on his side, as far away from him as you could possibly get.

“I thought you loved me, I thought what we had was special.” He mumbled, taking a step toward you.

“We haven’t had anything! You are a stranger, I didn’t even know you until you broke into my house!!” You shouted, he could hear the fear in your words plain as day. Ben thought about what you had just said, each and every word. He had managed to talk himself down from sobbing, talked some sense into himself all thanks to you. You did have a point, the two of you had only interacted on social media before he had come to move in. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, his emotions had clouded his judgment and, at the moment, he didn’t know what to think. In that one moment there were only two things Ben was sure about: How much he loved you and how much he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you to someone else. There had to be something, had to be a way to show you that he was the best man for you. He places his hands on the side of his head to block out the sound of you crying in fear, he had to think of some way he can remedy the situation.

He looks at you as you cower away from him, and your legs open wide enough that a flash of your light blue panties catches his eye. Lustful thoughts run through his mind and he realizes he’s found the answer to his problems. Couples in serious, committed relationships are often sexually active. Sex is an act of trust and love. If he had sex with you he could prove to you that he’s committed to you, that he loved you more than anything or anyone else. Everything in the world is silent as he drops his hand to the towel around his waist. He was going to show you how much you meant to him, and the two of you would lose your virginities for good this time.

Chapter Text

Ben sits completely naked staring down at the crotch of your panties. They’re the same ones from yesterday, baby blue just like all of your other pastel panties. The sight drives him wild as he takes the time to run his finger straight down the crotch. They’re soft, they’re the slightest bit damp, they’re everything he wants. It doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and lowering his nose to the crotch in order to take the longest, most satisfying sniff he’d ever taken. Your scent is intoxicating and runs right to his cock, threatening to make him cum at the lightest touch. He lifts his face and looks at you, the tears were beginning to form but Ben had made up his mind. He knew you needed this. You needed to know how much your meant to him and he needed to show you how much he loved you. He lowers himself to your panties once again, shaking in need.

More. He needed more. Your panties were no longer enough for him. He needed more to smell, he needed to smell it from the source. He lowers his head closer while his cock twitches in anticipation of what he’s about to do. Ben can’t bear to tear his eyes from your panties to look at your reaction, he’s ready to not be a virgin and he wants the same for you. He holds his breath as he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your panties, pulling them aside and exposing your cunt for him and only him. Now that he has a better view he marvels at you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it was not this. You were sculpted even more perfectly than he could imagine, with just the right amount of pubic hair and he couldn’t have been more grateful. It was like you were handcrafted just for him. He could only imagine that your body was like a puzzle piece; he was the perfect fit. With your begging, pleading, and crying being filtered into the back of his mind he slowly lowers his face to your exposed cunt, planting his nose deep between your labia and taking a large, unrestrained whiff of the scent of your body.

Ben absolutely felt as if he could have passed out as your unfiltered scent ran through his nostrils and into his lungs. He never would have imagined his first sexual experience would be like this, that he’d be face down in your cunt smelling your sweet, succulent scent. You wiggle and sob above him, trying to move your lower half away from him but he’s in too deep to stop. Both of his arms come around your thighs and he holds you still against him as he opens his mouth wide, pushing his face into you. His tongue ungracefully falls from between his teeth and he takes his first taste of you.

Smelling you had turned him on, but in this moment he had learned that tasting you was all he needed. His tongue had gone deep inside of you and he felt like he had become connected to you in more ways than one. His cock twitched as he curled his tongue and he knew he was seconds away from orgasming all over your feet and bedsheets. Abruptly he pulls his face away and stares down in between your legs at your blue underwear. You have your legs spread wide for half a second before snapping them shut and turning away from him, and he can instantly feel himself coming down. He takes a second to catch his breath and observe you as you lay in the fetal position, shaking and crying while hugging your knees to your chest. You look as if you were in pain and he didn’t understand why. Didn’t girls like it when they received oral sex? Maybe he just did it wrong. Maybe it would be easier if you were completely naked.

He takes the waistband of your panties and pulls them down faster than you can lean up and stop him. Another chill rolls down his spine as you display your sex for him. This time, before you can close your legs, he dives face first into you. He laps, he sucks, he takes in as much of you into his mouth as he can. His movements are sloppy and uncontrolled, but he thinks he’s doing what he’s supposed to do. He takes your thrashing and sobs as sounds of lust and decides to push his tongue further into you, to which you protest with a wail. He flicks his tongue faster and faster, thinking that you’re growing closer and closer to orgasm and he feels incredibly proud of himself. At least until the space around him was filled with another petrified scream. 

“Stop! Please don’t rape me!” You began bawling, begging Ben to stop but he still didn’t understand. The two of you were dating and he had convinced himself that you needed this from him. It wasn’t rape, at least according to Ben it wasn’t. As terrified as you were, Ben knew this is what had to be done. He positioned himself in between your legs to grant him easier access to your cunt and dropped his face to you again, fully intending to eat you some more but a swift kick to the face stops him.

“Owch, fuck!” He exclaims as he sits up, holding his hand over his eye while starts glistened in his eyesight. You had kicked him right in the eye, and Ben couldn’t help but to feel angry. “What the hell was that for?” He asked you, raising his voice over your sobs. You only shook your head, continued to plead with him not to hurt you. By now Ben was irritated with you. He knew what was best for this relationship and he was tired of you resisting him. “You don’t want me to eat you?” He asked.

“No, please don’t. I swear, I’ll love you, just please don’t rape me!” You begged, but Ben was done with your games. He tried to do it the proper way, he tried to do the whole foreplay thing, but evidently you didn’t want it. He stares at you, reaches down and runs his hands over your warm belly, up your nightgown and over your bra.

“You already love me, Sweetheart.” Ben says as confidently as he can. He speaks as if he wasn’t trying to convince himself that you love him, as if he were only correcting a silly little mistake. He knew all you needed was a little convincing, for the two of you to truly commit yourselves to one another and he only saw one way of doing that. He knows what’s best for you, he knows what you need. And unluckily for you, he was going to make things right between you whether you wanted it or not.


“I hope you don’t mind, but this has always been my favorite position.” Ben says, setting the duct tape down on the bedside table in plain view for you. He had made you a proposition: You sit there on your hands and knees, you don’t give him any issues, and you take his cock like he knows you can and, in return, Ben wouldn’t tape you up. You obediently sat yourself up and bared your ass and cunt to him while he idly fisted himself behind you. He was right, this wasn’t rape at all since you were doing it willingly.

He spreads his precum over the head of his cock as he marvels at your backside. Was he truly ready to not be a virgin anymore? He scowled, wondering if you were ready for the same thing. He vowed he’d make this as painless for you as possible, but he didn’t know how well he’d perform with how nervous he was. He builds up the courage to move himself toward you, rubbing his cock along your outer labia as he tries to figure out how it’s supposed to work. “I’ve, I’ve always wanted to take your virginity in this position. And, I guess lose mine like this too.” You jump away from him as he pushes past your lips and inside of you, thinking all he had to do was push himself in. It would instantly start feeling good, you would be turned on, he would be turned on, and soon, the two of you would cum together. Just like in the porn he had watched. But first, he had to find his way inside of you.

“Please, just go slowly.” You whimper as your back arches away from him; Ben bites back the urge to say he knows that already. He had heard the tales in school about how painful it is for girls to lose their virginities. Breaking hymans, or “cherries,” the blood, the pain, Ben was prepared for it all. He thinks the best thing to do is to just go for it, to thrust as hard as he can and hope that, eventually, he can deep dick you and make you feel good.

“I know that it, that it can hurt sometimes, sweetheart.” Ben says, stalling as fear once again overtakes him. “If it hurts just scream into the pillow. Okay?”

The last thing Ben sees before he shuts his eyes is you frantically shaking your head, begging him still to go slow but, again, Ben knows what’s best for his body and yours. He winds his hips back and goes as fast as he sees the much larger men in his porn videos go and immediately comes to regret it when his rock hard cock bends ever so slightly against your perineum. You jumped and cried out just as he did, tried to crawl away from him but he grips your hips and drags you back to him. “It was an accident. It was an accident!” He shouts, trying to play off his pain. With one hand on your hip and the other on his cock he tries to find his way inside you once again. When he thinks he’s made significant progress he picks up speed only for his cock to bend upward and slide in between your cheeks. He grows frustrated with everything, leans back on his ankles and wipes the sweat away from his brow. This wasn’t working, he was failing you and he worried you’d never fully see how much he loved you.

He could feel you shaking beneath him, could tell that you were terrified of him and his inability to please you. He's irritated, he's frustrated, and soon he feels himself going flaccid at the thought of him scaring you.

“Would you stop!” He howls, reaching down and angrily stroking himself to bring his erection back fully. “You're doing this. You're putting me out of the mood and it's your fault!” He says as he positions himself against your entrance again. He doesn't mean to shift the blame on you, but his anxiety doesn't give him any other choice. He'd be able to perform better if you weren't stressed, he thinks. If you would just relax everything would be easier.

He pushes himself forward and thinks he's finally making progress--real progress-- but your hips snap forward and you break down into sobs once again.

“Stop, just stop!” You plead into the pillow. Ben is on the verge of losing himself to his anger. He's angry at you and your fearfulness of him, at himself for being a virgin and not knowing how to please you. Just as he grasps your hips to pull you back to him for the 2nd time you speak up yet again. “You're too big. You're gonna hurt me!” You shout at him. Ben is shocked to hear you confess your real fear, but he figures it's understandable. Perhaps you're tighter than he imagined, perhaps he needed more than just his cock to coax it into you.

He reaches down in between your legs and pries your flesh open, bending his head to the side to try and see where exactly he should be going. He's so tall, your bottom half is so far away but he thinks he sees what he's looking for. He's nervous as he begins to insert his index finger into you, the first time he's ever been inside of a woman. You're still panicking, now back to begging him to go slowly but he can hardly pay attention when he's feeling the inside of you.

Dry. The first thing that comes to his mind is you were dryer than he thought you were going to be. His mind once again wanders back to his porn collection, to the women that were absolutely dripping for their partners. Was that what was wrong? You weren't wet enough for him. The next thing that pops into his mind is the lube he had bought at the sex shop. Lube helps, lube is what he needed.

He jumps up, reaching for the leash to make sure it’s secure before shooting up and sprinting out of your bedroom, down the stairs, to the bathroom he kept you taped up in where he seized the small bottle of lube on the floor. He was still completely naked and his softening cock shook with his frantic movements. This had to be it, this had to be why he wasn’t performing the way he should.

“Here, I got it. I have it right here.” He bursts back into the room speaking to you as if you had peeked into his mind and learned of his plans with the lube. You collapsed onto your belly, still a sniffling, terrified mess but he hardly had time to notice. Ben climbs up onto the bed behind you and lifts your hips to his pelvis once again, quelling the need to try just one more time on his own before implementing the lube. “This should help us, I think.” He said as he absentmindedly throws the cap open and squirts a generous amount on his length. “You aren’t wet enough, and I think this will help.” He smiles as he waits for a reaction, but you give him none. Instead he hears you crying once again but he can’t be bothered with your tears. He thinks he’s solved all of your problems and wants to get this over with, wants to make you cum and wants to renounce his virgin status.

After stroking his erection and spreading the cold lube all over himself he takes a deep breath, straightening himself and lining the head of his cock up with you once again. “I promise I’ll make this good for you, I promise.” He whispers as your body goes completely stiff.

“I know, just, just please go slow.” You beg of him. Kylo nods his head as if you can see him through the back of your head. He reaches down between your legs one more time and pries you open, holding your cunt open so that he can see inside of you as best as he can. With his lower lip held tightly between his teeth he slowly moves his hips forward, pushing himself into you. He lets out a gasp as he realizes the lube is working just the way he needed it to. He’s in the right position and, before his very eyes, his cock his disappearing inside of you.

“It’s working.” He murmurs, stopping as he realizes he’s going too fast for his own good. His entire body is trembling, the head of his cock is oversensitive and he feels like he could cum at any second if he moved another inch. A smile spreads across his face as he realizes he’s no longer virginal and neither were you. “It feels, feels so good.” He removes his hand from your cunt and places it protectively on your hip. Under him your cold and stiff, shaking just as he was for all the wrong reasons.

It takes him another few seconds but he finally works up enough courage to move another few centimeters until your tears catch his attention yet again. “Stop, stop, stop. Please, stop.” You beg him in quick succession, but he doesn’t listen to you. How could he stop? He had only made it in so far and he felt the need to go further. It was primal to him, an instinct to go as far as he could go. He realizes moving so fast wouldn’t have been an option due to the fact that he had met so much resistance moving so slowly; he didn’t want to hurt you. “That’s enough, I can’t take any more of you, please stop!” You beg, dropping your head into the pillow and weeping even harder. Your shaking only makes his cock harder and Ben feels like he has to go even further. He knows it’s not what you want, he knows you’re in pain but this is what both of you need. He told you it would be painful, he expected you to understand and he was in far too deep to stop now.

Slowly he moved further into you as you scream at him to stop, but it doesn’t matter to him. Before he knows it just an inch of his cock can be seen, the rest was planted tightly inside of you. He lets out an exhale as he struggles to remember what to do next. He has to come out, to drag himself out slowly. But how can he when it feels like you were giving him a warm, comforting hug? He felt safe in this position, like you would protect him from anything and everything that could bring him harm.

But like a boomerang his mind expeditiously shifts from him to you and he realizes you’re in pain. He brings his hips back and pulls almost completely out of you, watches your back relax as just the head sat inside of you. You take several long breaths and he can feel you relaxing around him, in his mind it’s how it’s supposed to be. His selfishness takes over and soon he’s pushing into you again, this time a little bit quicker than the first time. “Gentle, slowly, slowly!” You stutter to him but a wave of pleasure shoots right through him and blocks out your frenzied words. As soon as he’s as far as he thinks he can get he snaps his hips back and he’s right where he had begun. It’s taken him no time to gain his confidence and, against your wishes, he finds a steady rhythm in his next few strokes and he realizes that he’s almost fucked you to completion.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum.” He says as he shoves his cock further than he thought it could go before. The very tip of his cock pressed up against something solid inside of you. You jump and cry out in pain, yelling at him and telling him to come back out. He can feel his orgasm creeping up on him and he realizes he’s within seconds of cuming despite the minor intrusion. “Can I, inside of you?” He says, his sentences fragmented as his clarity is clouded by his pleasure.

“No, absolutely not!” You say with a kind of confidence he had never heard from you. You whimper as you turn your head toward him, uttering something that he failed to even consider before he fucked you. “You aren’t, you mean you’re not using a condom?”

He looks down at you, at your naked back and your beautiful ass with his cock buried deep inside of you. One final thought rushes through his mind about everything before him being his, that he had succeeded at taking your virginity and losing his, and, most importantly, the fact that the two of you had accomplished these things together meant you had taken your relationship to a whole new level. It was enough to make his cock twitch, he felt the eye rolling, toe-curling, pleasurable feeling rushing through his body and he was just fast enough at pulling out from you that his cum adorned your back, rolling down both ends toward your neck and down the curve of your ass ever so slowly. He gripped his cock and took aim for your ass, making sure no more of his seed would seep down toward your cunt. As soon as the word ‘condom’ left your lips he knew what your fear was. He, just like you, did not want a child out of this deal. Not yet, at least.

By the time he’s coming down from his high, done stroking his cock and had completely emptied himself over you Ben was beyond exhausted. His hands came to rest on your hips while he ran his thumb over one of the spots his cum had pooled near your hip. His clarity comes back to him and now he can fully appreciate the blessed opportunity you’ve given him. You had gone quiet right after the first drop of cum had left his cock and met your skin, just sat there waiting for something else to happen and Ben used the moment as wisely as he could. He leaned his head down to a clean spot, untainted by his seed, and planted his lips to you. “Thank you, Sweetheart.” He whispered, but you only replied by bursting into tears yet again.

“Get it off of me!” You screamed, moving forward and nearly dressing his face in his cum. “Get it off, please!” Your horrific screams take Ben by complete surprise, suddenly he’s back into his normal state of mind and he recognizes that you’re in danger. Frantically he looks for something, anything to clean you off and the only thing he can think to do is lift the comforter from your side of the bed and wipe off your back. Your arms shake the entire time, he fears they’re going to break and send you falling face first into the bed. When you’re clean, quiet, and seemingly putting yourself together just as he is, a stomach-churning thought fills his mind.

“Wait, did you…?” He asks, you turn your head to look at him for a hot second before collapsing onto your belly again. He feels his cheeks burning in red hot shame, unable to believe that he had taken so much time to take care of him and his needs that he had completely neglected yours. He drops the corner of the comforter and forces you onto your back to look at him, his heart pounding the entire time. “Did you cum?” He begs for an answer, but he only receives an unsure, uninterested look. Panic rises within him as he thinks he’s a horrible partner, that he had came without making sure you did first. That was a thing bad, unthoughtful boyfriends did, something Ben never aspired to be.

Gently he drops both of his hands to your cheeks and forces you to look up at him. “Sweetheart, tell me. Did you cum?” He urges, feeling the need to cry as you just barely nod your head. You were lying to him, he had seen what it looks like when women cum. They open their mouths, they scream, they throw their heads back. You had done nothing of the sort, and even you were embarrassed enough about it that you felt you needed to lie to him.

It feels as if an arrow is shot straight through his chest as he sits up off of you and stares down at your nude body. You wouldn’t let him use his mouth, was afraid of him using his hands, what other option did he have? His fingers shake as his eyes sweep the bedroom and land on the bottle of lube that sitting within the duct tape. From there his mind backtracks to the buttplug, and then to the reason why he bought it in the first place: Your vibrator. That’s exactly what he needed!

“I can fix this. I can fix this for you Sweetheart, just give me one minute.” He hadn’t seen it lying around the bed since he had left it that one day, he couldn’t imagine that it could have gone too far. “Where is your toy?” He asked you, the fear that lights up in your eyes is easily confused with excitement.

“No, I came. I promise you made me cum!” You babble, but Ben doesn’t believe you. He stands to his feet and starts pulling apart your bedside table looking for it, and when he doesn’t find it he moves to his side of the bed where his luck finds him and seizes the bright pink toy. “I promise that you don’t need to use it, it’s okay, really.” You sit up and hold your arms out to him but nothing can stop him. This was supposed to provide both of you with pleasure, and he was determined to pleasure you. The vibrations come alive as he presses his thumb into the button and suddenly Ben doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He looks at you as you hold your thighs tight together, thinking there was only one way he was going to get you off.

“Here, just let me--” He says, sitting back on his knees in between your feet and forcing your legs open. You fight him, kick him, scream at him and push him away from you, but it doesn’t work. With one hand on your knee and the other pressing the vibrator into you he’s surprised at how easily it goes in. He figures it’s much shorter and slender than his cock is so it’s probably easier, the leftover lube probably helps his case too. You throw your head back in tears, screaming at the top of your lungs and begging him to stop, but as always it doesn’t work on him. He leans up, loudly slams his hand on your mouth and stifles your screams. This was what you needed, Ben wanted you to have your few seconds of pleasure too.

He keeps one hand on the vibrator as he presses his body into you as best as he can, his face an inch from yours so that he could instantly tell when your orgasm overtook you. “I just want to see you cum, Sweetheart.” He breaths, feeling his cock rising again. “That’s all I ask, tell me what I have to do to make you cum.”

He starts moving the vibrator in and out of you, just as he did with his own cock. But it gets no reaction other than tears. He becomes wary once again, he must be doing something wrong. Maybe it’s his grip, maybe he must go deeper instead. He pulls the toy out, adjusting his grip on the end when his thumb made contact with something small and fleshy. Whatever it was you jumped, squeaked just a tad and he could feel your chest rise and fall rapidly. Ben was curious, it looked as if he had sparked something within you.

He sits up, removing his hand from your mouth and had just enough room to see the vibrator sticking out of you. He inspects a bit further and finds a small, flesh-colored nub sticking out just over top of it. Was this it? Was this what he had accidentally touched.

Although he’s embarrassed about his lack of knowledge about your body he can’t help but to feel curious about this new part of you he’s discovered. He runs his thumb over it again and notices that you twitch, your screams become fragmented and he swears he hears the start of a moan coming from your chest. He smiles as he thinks he’s onto something.

His smile increases with the rate of his heart as your mouth falls open and he recognizes the signs of your impending orgasm at his hand. His thumb rubs gentle circles over your nub as he pushes the toy in and out of you. Your toes curl, your fingers curl in the sheets and he knows, he just knows, that what he wants is rapidly coming toward him. His mouth waters and he represses a moan of his own as your knees snap up and your legs widen for him. This was the first time he had known for certain he brought you pleasure, and he thought he could absolutely cum on you again if you kept this show up for him.

Eventually he gets exactly what he wants. Your body convulsed and the most repressed moan he had ever heard spills from between your lips, out into the open and it’s like music to his ears. Your breaths become short and shallow and your eyes close. The look of ecstasy is all Ben needs to stop the show, remove the vibrator and end the vibrations. Your lower half twitches ever so slightly as a stringy, clear substance breaks from the vibrator and falls over your ass. The sight proves to be far too much for Ben. His cock is once again rock hard and just as soon as the thought leaves his mind he must act on it.

He lifts the vibrator to his mouth and drags it across his tongue, lapping up the arousal left behind from your orgasm. He was more than impressed, it contained more flavor than when he had tried to eat you earlier. He almost felt as if he could go for another round of sex, but the horrified look on your face told him otherwise.

“You are just the tastiest, most amazing woman ever.” He admits, once again leaning down and placing a kiss on your chapped lips. “I hope losing your virginity was as enjoyable as losing mine was.” He says, a dumb smile plastered across his face. Post sex bliss was something Ben could have gotten used to. The endorphins that raced through his mind and put him at ease were to die for. He leans down to kiss you yet again but he’s shocked when he misses you reeling your arm back and slapping him across the face.

“You dumbass!” You shrieked, Ben is taken completely aback by your foul language. “I’m not a virgin, I haven’t been a virgin in years!” His lower jaw drops slightly as your face turns bright red, and in another swift, angered movement your leg makes contact with his balls, causing white hot pain to radiate throughout his body. His knees cross and he bellows over your angry cries. He’s in so much agony that he feels like he could join you in crying, both parties in so much pain for two completely different reasons. Of course his is physical, yours emotional, but Ben can’t tell the difference. The only thing he can see is a frantic, lying woman that he needs to take care of. Because what kind of partner doesn’t provide aftercare to his lover, a woman he’s head over heels in love with?

Chapter Text

Despite the fact that you had injured him and blatantly lied to his face, Ben felt spending some time away from you was good for your now crooked relationship. He hobbled out of the bedroom and down to your kitchen where he, shamelessly, reached into your freezer and took a bag of frozen peas from the shelf, hobbled back to your living room and collapsed onto your recliner. It wasn’t one of his proudest moments, but he knew from experience that this was only one of the few ways he’d find relief from the pain you’d caused him. He pressed the bag of peas into his balls and his pain almost immediately started to ease. He had become nauseated almost as soon as your foot made contact with his scrotum, but after spending a few minutes away from you he realized he was starting to relax. Although still in pain he recognized that you were just as emotional as he was during the loss of your virginity. Your emotion manifested in anger, for some reason, while his manifested in content.

Ben busies his mind with the love he had made to you just minutes ago and, as soon as he feels his pain and nausea dissipating, he decides he can no longer be away from you. It felt like he had spent an eternity away from you when in reality he had only been gone a total of ten minutes. He worried about how you were coping with all these new emotions and he didn’t want you to feel alone after the two of you had overcome such a massive hurdle in your relationship. He stands, still gloriously naked and still in some pain that makes him walk funny, but nevertheless is able to trek back into the kitchen where he places the peas back into the freezer. He gave himself a quick pep talk, going over what he wanted to say to apologize for being so rough with you. He really shouldn’t have stumbled around, he should have at least forced the foreplay so that you would have been more prepared for him. He feels like an idiot and thinks about how it almost cost him his relationship. He sighs, realizing he’d have to be more careful in the future. For now, all he wants to do is be with you, to remind you that he loves you and to remind himself that he, too, is loved.

He climbs the stairs thinking of a way he can make you feel better. A massage, just cuddles maybe, kisses along your spine? There were so many ways he wanted to spoil you, but when he enters the bedroom and finds you fast asleep his hopes are immediately dashed. You’re still stark naked just as he is, the leash still tied snuggly to the best post so you can’t get away. He sighs, thinking the night surely could have gone better than this.

Slowly, Ben makes his way into the bedroom. He's as quiet as he can be while observing your bare body sitting atop the comforter instead of underneath of it, observing your swollen face and the dried tears that adorned it. Once again you had cried yourself to sleep, only this time Ben had tried his hardest to please you beforehand. He feels the lightest lump growing in his throat as he makes his way over to you, pushes the comforter over your body and runs his hand down your face. You’re so perfect to him, the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he wished with all of his heart that you’d show him that you were happy. The tears, the refusal, lies, it all upsets him so. Using his thumb he pushes away some of the crusted tears from under your eye. He just wants you to love him, was that really too much to ask for?

Dismally he climbs into bed and shuts the light off, showering the both of you in the darkness that he needed. In the dark he didn’t have to look at you, he didn’t have to look at himself and see his flaws, his insecurities, and his wrongdoings. In the back of his mind he knows what he’s doing is wrong. When he looks at you duct taped in your own home, when he fixes the leash to things to keep you put, it's all so wrong. He knows it’s not what you want, he knows he’s not what you want. But in the dark, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is he’s here to protect you and take care of you. In the dark, he can put his worries off until tomorrow.

Day 3, she smells of me.


Ben wakes up Sunday morning with a smile on his face. The sun is out, it’s warm in the room yet he’s still holding on tight to you under your blanket. He pressed his face into the vertebrae in your neck, sliding his open palm along your belly, up to your torso and brought it to rest along your soft breast. He sighed as he gently cupped your breast in his hand, thinking back on the blissful, yet terrifying, dream he had of the two of you.

It was a bright summer day and Kylo had taken the two of you to his childhood playground. You were dressed in a bright yellow sundress with your beautiful hair up in a messy bun and Ben had arranged a picnic date. The two of you were alone, laughing and talking together under the large red umbrella while eating the sandwiches you had made. Ben could remember vividly feeling the summer heat on his skin but it didn’t stop him from enjoying the moment with you. You reached over and held out your hand to him, to which Ben happily took it. His much larger hand encapsulated yours and he wasted no time in running his finger over the engagement ring he had given you just days before.

“Benny, I love you so much.” You said to him, Ben looked down and giggled. He loved it when you called him Benny, the only other person allowed to call him that was his mother; the other woman he loved.

“Oh, I love you too Sweetheart.” He whispered back. Then he watched as you stood up and walked over to the nearby lake. You turned around and waved at him, to which he got up and ran after you. “Where are you going, my love?” He asked, but all you did was giggle at him before traversing down to the muddy shore of the lake. He worried about the white high heels you were wearing and if they’d get messy or sink into the mud, even worried about the dress that looked to be just too expensive to do such an activity in. He called out for you, felt his heart beat pick up when you made the first step into the lake, then the next, then another until you were in waist deep in the murky water.

You weren’t running from him, you were walking into the water like you were simply taking a stroll. His feet were cemented to the ground and he found he could no longer run after you. He watched you wade deeper and deeper into the water until you had completely submerged yourself, and Ben was powerless to stop you.

Despite the horrid ending of his dream, the very beginning still put him at peace. It created such fond feelings within him and he knew this was exactly where he belonged. Here, in your bed, with you.

He pushes his nose into your soft skin and takes a short whiff, realizes that this was where some of his cum had landed last night. The image in his mind of his seed spattered across your back makes his morning erection even harder and he finds that he can't stop himself from pressing it against your ass. He thinks he may be able to go another round this morning, especially after the satisfying dream he had just woken up from. He had always heard morning sex was among the best sex and had no reason to think that you’d be opposed to it.

He sits there holding you against him until you start to stir. Your movements are slow and sluggish at first, but when you fully wake, as Ben expected, you try to fight him off. Reluctantly, Ben lets you go, lets you scoot to the other end of the bed, and watches your cheeks blush as you pull the comforter up to hide your nakedness from him. “Good morning, beautiful.” Ben says, propping his head up on his fist and looking at you. Your hair was still disheveled from last night, large bags hung around your sunken in eyes, and you still looked completely pale. To Ben, it looked like you had gotten no sleep last night. But it mattered not to him, because you would always be the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

Ben unlocks the leash and leads you to the bathroom where he lets you use the toilet, all while he brushed his teeth and ran some water on his face. He looks at your phone that he left on the counter and remembers he did want to take a look through some of the messages you had gotten. When you were finished on the toilet he woke the phone and reached for your hand, placing your thumb against the fingerprint sensor before you hat the chance to pull it away. Your home screen came to life and yet another photo of you and your late husband stared back at him. He pushes past his anger for long enough to tap on the messages icon and focus his attention on the few messages that had come in overnight. The one at the top was from Nina:

You okay girl? You never texted me back.


Ben chuckles as he adjusts your phone in his hand, wishing he could simply tell her that you weren't trusted with your phone yet but he knew she wouldn't understand. With your leash held tightly in his hand he steps aside you to use the toilet and prepares to type his response to her:


I am okay. I have just been in the hospital.


He sends the message just as he's finishing his piss, and when he flushes and turns to face you he's met with a look of disgust. He couldn't imagine why, he assumed all couples were comfortable enough with each other to use the restroom together. Once again he steps beside you to wash his hands. It didn't matter to him at all, because the only worry he had was the rest of the messages he'd have to send from your phone.


Breakfast consisted of a bowl of cheerios and the last of the milk in your fridge. Ben just had an orange while he typed up a message to your boss, making a mental note to pick up some milk for you on his way home from work.


I won't be coming in to work for a while. I'm still sick.


Ben sends the message but his confidence falters as he comes to realize that your comment from the other day was true. He really couldn't just keep calling you out of work like this. Another idea strikes him but it's too late. By the time he thinks to write your notice of resignation he's already sent the message and it's sitting there in its little blue chat bubble waiting to be seen by your boss. Oh well, he thinks to himself. Perhaps it would be better if he typed up an email for your boss anyway. He sets the phone down and locks it, feeling much better now that he had erased all of your fingerprints and pin codes to replace them with his. Now he would always have access to your phone and could send as many messages as his heart desired while keeping you locked out.

“I had the most wonderful dream about us last night.” Ben told you, finding humor in the fact that this was almost the same view he had in his dream. You sitting across from him, staring at him lovingly. Benny, I love you so much. He remembers your giggles, your smiles from his dream and instantly wishes he could hear you say it out loud. He stares at you waiting, but you don’t even speak to him. “Don’t you want to hear about it?” He becomes momentarily confused when you shake your head. Again, you seemed overly tired to him. Maybe he should tuck you back into bed for a nap before he left for work at 1:30.

“Well, do you ever have dreams about us?” He asks as if the last three nights you had spent together would have been enough to create dreams just as vivid as he had after knowing about you for so long. You lift another spoonful of cheerios to your mouth and shake your head just as you did before. Your unwillingness to talk to him drives him crazy and he wonders when you’re going to fall out of this adjustment phase. It had already been three days, he didn’t know if he would be able to hold out like this much longer.

Ben goes on to speak to you as if nothing were wrong. He talks about work, about his dreams, about anything he can think of until a miracle at the dinner table occurs before his very eyes.

“Ben, you love me, don’t you?” You ask him out of nowhere, looking up from your bowl of cereal and directly into his eyes. He was taken aback by your confidence, how loud your voice was and the strength behind your words. In all of his time here he had never heard you speak so positively, and especially not on the subject of the love that existed between the two of you. Regardless, he did not hesitate to nod his head and affirm your suspicions.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Ben says, holding out his hand to you. A flash of worry raced through his mind as he wondered what could possibly make him think that he didn’t love you. His heart raced and his mouth fell open as you gently placed your hand in his, grasped his wrist and held on firmly. This was something he never thought he would see, not anytime soon at least. He wraps his long fingers around your hand and holds you as securely as he can, hoping that this action alone would convey his love to you as adequately as he needed it to.

“I know you love me, I know you want to live with me and I know you just want to us be happy, but it’s just not working for me.” You couldn’t look him in the eye as you confessed your true feelings about him, but Ben couldn’t tear his eyes from you.

“What, what are you talking about?” He asks. It feels as if his bodily functions stopped at the exact same time; he feels no blood running through his veins, he no longer feels his chest rising and falling, his mouth goes completely dry. All while his entire body started frantically shaking at the news you had just given him.

Ben notices your tears when you lift the sleeve of the sweater he got for you to wear to your eyes and he realizes that this confession is hard on you. This decision, wherever it’s come from, wasn’t an easy decision to make, and he thinks it’s one you’ve been stewing on for a while now. He can see the turmoil in your eyes when they flash to him for a hot second, then only sees remorse when you avoid his gaze by looking back down into your near empty bowl of cereal. A lump constricts his throat as he grips your hand harder and tries to pull you across the table. The only thing he can think in his mind is: What have I done?

“This relationship, it’s just not working Ben.” You say, now audibly sobbing across the table from him. Ben is crushed, Ben is wounded, Ben is completely taken aback by this information. Never in a million years did he ever think he’d hear you say this to him. You told him just the other day that you loved him, but now you want to end the relationship he’s worked so hard to establish? He doesn’t know what to say, or do, or feel, so he sits there staring at you as you break down. “I want, I want to see other people, Ben, I’m so sorry. But I feel like we should break up.”

As soon as the words ‘break up’ leave your lips Ben’s fear and grief turn instantly to outrage and fury. He lets go of your hand and, with one large swoop of his arm, the small table you’re sitting at is gone, flying through the air onto the island where your food and has land in a sloppy mess all over the floor. The glass bowl you were eating out of shatters as it just barely misses the counter and lands on the floor, causing you to flinch. Ben doesn’t care that you’re clearly terrified sitting in front of him, drawing your arms and legs as close to your body as you can. Everything he sees is red, the only thing he can focus on is the fact that you were trying to leave him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, walking closer to you. “I’ve spent so much time and money to make this relationship work, you can’t just wake up one day and decide to leave me like this!”

“N-No, Ben!” You cry out, covering your ears with your hands which are concealed by the sweater. “You can’t treat me like this. You can’t lock me up like a dog and keep me hostage in my own house! You’re a maniac and I can’t take this anymore!” The accusations only fuel the raging fire that exists within Ben, and everything in his body is telling him to hit you. He wants to swing his arm back and punch you in the mouth to get you to stop talking, to give you a black eye to get you to stop your crying. He winds his arm back to do just that, takes aim for your concealed face and swings with an unrestrained yell. However, at the very last second Ben gets a sliver of clarity and realizes abuse is not the answer to his heartbreaking problems. Before his fist makes contact with you he manages to direct his anger toward the screen door next to your head.

You shriek and frantically tuck your head into your arms as the glass shatters around you, small bits and pieces falling to the foot of the chair you’re sitting in. Ben can barely feel any pain, yet his fist sits outside of your home with several glass shards sticking out of it. Your barely audible whimpers are what brings him back to reality and when he turns and sees you hiding your face in fear from him he feels as if he’s hit an all-time low. Slowly he brings his hand back into the house and observes the damage he’s done to himself. Small shards of clear glass turn red as his blood runs all over the pieces. What has he done? How could he have gotten this angry? He feels the pain beginning to pierce his hand and realizes he has to do something. Anything. He can’t bear to sit there looking at the results of his anger.


After pulling all the glass shards out of his hand and covering it with a dish towel to stop the bleeding, Ben carefully leads you back up the stairs where he tapes your wrists and mouth and lays you down for a mid-morning nap. When he’s sure you’re secure enough and can’t get out he turns his attention to the kitchen. Pushing the pain in his hand to the back of his mind he retrieves your broom and dustpan and gets to work on cleaning the glass up off the floor. He realizes that over the past few days he’s made quite a mess and he’s ashamed to stain your house like this.

So he cleans. In one giant trashbag he gathers up the uneaten pizza and the pizza box from your first night together as well as any other trash he’s left around your kitchen. Cleaning keeps his mind off of everything that’s happened and he finds it to be a welcomed distraction. Once everything is gathered up he pulls the trash from under your counter and piles it up with the rest of the stuff he needs to take out to the curb.

Dragging the bags of trash behind him he opens the door to your garage and finds it almost completely empty. It’s dark, it’s dusty, and clearly almost never used by you. Large boxes line the walls with next to nothing else. It’s clear that this had been turned to a storage space instead of a garage, but it still had enough room to house a car. He treads through, reaching on the wall for the light switch. Once the room is aglow with the weak orange light Ben moves forward, kicking up dust from the ground as he went. He dragged the bags past the boxes until something on top of the lowest stack of boxes caught his eye.

It was a framed photo of your husband. He was posed in a three quarters view with a sharp black suit. The background was blue and it was clearly a professional photo, probably taken for his law firm. The frame of the photo was white with the hand-painted phrases “ Beloved Husband,” and “ Gone, but not forgotten” painted on the top and bottom. Ben places the trash down as he takes the photo in both of his hands, observing every wrinkle, every hair, and every detail in your late husband’s face. He feels insecure looking at this man; he’s handsome, he’s charming, and his smile was so perfect it was to die for. Compared to Ben whose features were massively over and undersized, his eyes were a boring shade of brown and he considered himself to be abnormally tall. Ben had always struggled with his self-image, and sitting here staring at the man that used to be in your life wasn’t helping him at all. He brings the photo closer to his face for a second, quickly deciding that having it sit in what was now his home wasn’t an option. He didn’t want to be in competition with a photo so he makes a quick, rash decision to toss it in the trash with the rest of the stuff he had collected up from your kitchen. At least it was one less reminder of your past life for him to worry about.

The air is warm and the sunlight immediately starts to soak into his black clothing as he stands at the edge of your garage. The length of your driveway intimidates him, especially when he sees a few of your neighbors out and about doing whatever friendly neighbors do. The garage door rises and he grows incredibly nervous, almost calling off the trash run, but he thinks it’s for the best. If he were going to be living here then he’d at least have to get to know your neighbors; he just hoped none of them would ask about you since you weren’t ready to come out in public with him yet. He takes the first step out of your garage and, as confidently as he can, he focuses all of his attention on the large trash can at the end of your driveway.

“I just can’t believe this!” A shrill, panicked voice draws his attention off to the right and he looks over to see two middle-aged women standing in front of the garden he had plucked your flowers from. “My flowers, they’re all gone!” The woman standing closest to the patch of dirt is so flustered, red in the face, and obviously recovering from a long crying session.

“I mean, who just walks up and takes flowers from someone else's garden?” The other woman says, leaning in close to look at the dirt. “Do you think it might have been a rabbit? I just can’t fathom that a person would do such a thing.” Ben keeps his head down and a snort in his throat. These women were obviously talking about him but he wasn’t about to go turn himself in to them. The person who would steal flowers from another person’s yard is the same person that wanted to impress their girlfriend that they love more than anything else on this earth, that’s who.

Ben keeps his head down as he finally approaches the trash cans, lifts the bags of trash in one by one and replaces the lid only to turn around and see both women staring at him. The blonde woman that owned the garden leaned in close to the other one and whispered something to her and Ben cringes knowing it’s about him. Just as he starts to head back up to your house the two women began walking toward him, putting their heads together and whispering. Ben begins to panic, what were they talking about? What were they thinking? Were they going to ask about you? Did they know he was the one that stole their flowers? Ben was intimidated beyond recognition, and the absolute worst happens when they veer to their left right in his math. He stops walking, watches as they approach him and he gets a good look at the torment on the blonde woman’s face.

“Hello, you must be new here.” The woman with brown hair speaks with a smile. Ben only nods his head in response. He’s lost his voice yet again and doesn’t want anything to do with these strange women he had stolen from. The woman looked behind her at his home, then looked back with an optimistic look on her face. “You must be family staying for a visit?” Again, Ben can only nod his head. In his mind it would sound worse if he introduced himself as your boyfriend, because the should your disappearance be reported to the police he would be the number one suspect.

“Well, I was wondering if you would have seen what happened to our neighbor's Dahlias?” The woman thumbed back toward the garden while the other placed her hand over her face, once again looking like she was going to cry. “We came out this morning and they look like they’ve been ripped right from her garden.”

“I haven’t seen anything, I’m sorry.” Ben says flatly, turning to walk around them. However, before he can get away the distraught woman points at the blood-soaked dish towel that’s wrapped around his hand.

“What’s happened to your hand, sweetie?” She sniffs, now both women are staring at his wound and Ben becomes overcome with fear once again. “Did you cut yourself on something? We heard some glass breaking from behind the house, that’s how we discovered my flowers missing.” She looks down to the pavement and Ben sees it at the perfect opportunity to make his exit. He rattles off some excuse off the top of his head, something about falling into the glass door and injuring himself, then immediately scurries into your garage without another word to the two women. Once inside he hits the button to close the garage door behind him. The last thing he sees before he’s in the dark of your unused garage is the two women stepping away from his home. Once he’s alone and able to think clearly once again without the fear of strange people coming to take you away from him, he leans against the garage door and sighs. He can feel his heart pounding at an imaginable pace against his rib cage as the adrenaline settles inside of him.

At times like this, after he’s been worked up and almost sent into a full blown panic, he needs you. He needs to hold you, and kiss you, and just love you. He needs you to be there for him, to love him and to let him take care of you. It's the only thing that will bring him peace and he decided that your nap has gone long enough. What was more important to him was spending some much needed time with you, especially after the small, almost insignificant disagreement that led him to want to spend time away from you in the first place.

Chapter Text

Ben enters your bedroom and sees you still taped up, shaking and muffling your cries from earlier that morning. He feels horrible about everything that’s happened this morning; your proposal to end your relationship with him, the feelings of jealousy and animosity toward your husband, and the fear of being caught stealing your neighbor's roses. All this negativity was stirring around inside of him and created such bad anxiety. He didn’t want to lose you, he didn’t want anyone taking you from him. He needed you, to hold you and remind him that you belonged with him. He needed to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

He creeps into your bed behind you and you immediately go stiff as he snakes his arm around you. Ben falsely takes it as you relaxing in his embrace and he knows this was where he was meant to be. “I’m sorry, that you feel like you have to leave me.” He whispers against the back of your neck. “I’m sorry that I’m not perfect. I’m sorry that I’m not, him.” Images of your husband’s perfect face flash before Ben’s eyes and pain radiates throughout his chest. “I know you miss him, and I know you loved him, but he’s gone. Now you have me, and I love you. You just have to love me back, and I promise I can make you as happy as he did.” The tip of his nose gets stuck against your spine as you rapidly shake your head and he sighs in frustration. You’re afraid, afraid to love him when he knows you can. He knows he can make you happy, he knows he can live out the wonderful dream he had of you last night one day. You just have to be happy. He had to make you happy.

“I can do it, I promise I can make you happy.” He says to you, but in reality Ben is trying to assure none other than himself. Trying to convince himself that he could, indeed, make you see how happy you could be. He can only think in the moment, about how to make you happy right now instead of the long term. The only thing that pops into his mind is sex. You were already in the bed, he was already close to you. It wouldn’t take much, and he reminded himself that sex was something couples that were committed to each other had in most cases. He was definitely committed to you, all he had to do was get you to commit yourself to him.

Ben leaned up, placed his hand on your shoulder and pushed you onto your back. You had tears in your eyes and the sight of you so upset made even Ben want to start crying. “I’d like to make love to you again.” He whispered, reaching up and running his hand down your face. His fingers grasp the edge of the duct tape to pull it off, but at the last second he changes his mind. He doesn’t want to hear you cry or beg him to stop. He wants to please you, to let you know that he loves you and he didn’t want anything to take him out of the mood.

With no tape holding your ankles together it’s easy to grasp your pants and panties and pull them down your legs. You kick at him, scream at him from under the duct tape but he doesn’t want to hear it. In Ben’s mind, this is what he needs to do to make it up to you. Just like last night, he knows this is what’s needed for his relationship and he wasn’t going to let anything--or anyone-- stop him.

He doesn’t want to take the time to undress both you and him, so instead he shimmies his pants and underwear down his legs and throws them to the floor. On his way back to you he reaches for the bottle of lube that he had left on the bedside table last night and squirts a generous amount onto his cock. He’s not hard at all, mostly because he’s not lustful enough yet but he knows that can change quickly. With one hand stroking himself, willing his erection to life, and the other inching its way between your legs, he prepares himself for you. Your knees are pressed tightly together, hiding what he wants to see from him but he knows he can overpower you to get what he wants.

And he has no problem doing just that.

As soon as his cock stands tall and proud he uses both of his hands to hold your legs open, and just like you asked him to do last time he pushed himself in as slow as he could go. He met with very little resistance as he guided his cock into you, and once he was in far enough he sighed, leaned his body down, placed his hands on either side of your head and looked you straight into your eyes. He shook to his core as he basked in his adoration for you. He could hear you whimpering and starting to cry once again but it truly didn’t matter to Ben. The two of you were connected like this and he thought that it was exactly what you needed to be happy.

“I love you.” He said, his eyes welling with joyous tears. “I love you, and I love everything about you.” Just like last night, Ben looks at you from top to bottom and he’s so thankful that you’re his. “What did I do to deserve such a beautiful woman?” The first of Ben’s many tears drip from his face down onto yours. He’s so proud of himself and of you for finding each other. “I don’t know what I would do without you, you just, you complete me.” He says before drawing his hips back and dragging his cock along your walls. He doesn’t want to think about what life would be like without you, so he doesn’t. Instead he focuses on how good you feel around him, and about how good he can make you feel.

You do nothing but close your eyes. He watches as tears slide down your reddened face and over the duct tape, and in his delusional mind he can only assume that you’re crying with him. Ben’s heart leaps in his chest as he comes to the conclusion that you really do love him too, and he couldn't be happier. The two of you cried together as he continued to fuck you, and each time Ben declares his love for you he notices you cry even harder. By the time he was pulling out of you, taking aim for your exposed belly button and releasing his seed over your warm skin, you were bawling, screaming and thrashing your head back and forth. Ben takes a second to regain his composure, and when the blood rushed back to his brain and he could see that you were in distress, he was confident in himself once more. This was his home, and you were his girlfriend. He had no reason to believe you’d want to leave him now that he’s confessed his love to you so many times. Surely by now you’d understand, right? Of course you would. And with that, Ben convinces himself that he has absolutely nothing to worry about.


After getting you all clean Ben check the time and sees that he still has a few hours before he has to work. He wants to spend time with you, but he doesn’t want to just sit around and do nothing. Even though his ego had been built from the round of sex the two of you had earlier he still can’t get his mind off of the photo he found in your garage. Not just about the photo, but about what else was in those boxes. His curiosity got the better of him and soon he can’t stop himself from turning around while you were dressing to confront you about it.

“Why don’t you use your garage?” He asks you as nonchalantly as he can. The two of you stand in your closet staring at each other while Ben patiently waits for an answer. You had stopped pulling the pair of jeans he picked out for you earlier up your thighs and looked at him confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why don’t you park your car in your garage?” Ben clarified, but you only nodded your head before going back to pulling your pants up.

“No reason. I just prefer leaving it in the driveway.” You said, tossing him a cautious glare. Ben blinked at you, something just didn’t feel right about your response. He watched as you buttoned the jeans up and placed your arms suspiciously at your sides. You were too calm, you were looking him right into his eyes when normally you wouldn’t do such a thing. He was skeptical, and the first thought that came to his mind was that you were hiding something from him.

“Are you lying to me?” He asked you, and in response you jumped back and placed your hands over your chest.

“No Ben,” You stuttered, your eyes widening and filling with terror. “Not at all.” Ben squint his eyes at you, he didn’t believe you at all.

“Why don’t you show me then? I want to know what’s in those boxes.” Ben says, taking your leash in his hand and pulling you along behind him. He tried to keep his anger at a minimum but the thought of you lying to him makes him nervous. He couldn’t imagine what you were hiding from him, and a part of him didn’t want to find out. But he loved you and he knew you loved him. Couples in loving, involved relationships don’t keep secrets so he had to put an end to this as soon as possible.

He pulled you throughout your home and to the garage where he threw the door open and immediately went for the stack of boxes that he had found the picture on. He doesn’t take the time to find somewhere to tie your leash to, instead he slides it over his wrist and uses both hands to peel the packing tape off of the box and dives in head first. The first thing he touches is hard plastic, and when he pulls it out and examines it in the soft yellow light he’s confused.

It’s an unopened package of pacifiers, two light green ones with checkerboard print. What was this about? None of this made any sense at all. The pod was translucent and fit just in the palm of his hand, and as he turned back to you he shot you an incredibly suspicious look. “What are these?” He asked as his mind raced with horrifying thoughts. He placed the pacifiers down on top of the other stack of boxes and immediately turned his attention back to the other box where he found even more baby items. Before he knew it he was holding a brand new package of yellow burp clothes and a greeting card that had a baby bottle on the front. He opened the card and saw a handwritten note that said “ Good luck conceiving! Congrats from all of your coworkers!” Ben furrowed his brow as he failed to understand the sight that sat before him, and once again he resorted to lashing out at you to process his anger and confusion.

“You have a child?” He asked. As the word child left his lips he was horrified to think that he had been here for three days now and hadn’t seen or heard one. How could you have hidden a child from him this entire time?

“No, no, I don’t have a child.” You stuttered, clearly looking fearful of him as he interrogated you.

“Then what is this?” Demanded as he held the strange items out to you. You looked down in horror at them, took a step back and then started your nervous explanation.

“They’re, they were gifts.” You said, your lower jaw quivering while you clutched your hands to your chest. “My coworkers, they gave them to me as gifts when I announced that my husband and I were--”

“So you’re pregnant now?” Ben asks, completely disregarding the news paperclipping he saw in the cabinet in the living room. Three years, your husband had been dead for three years so there was no way you could have been currently pregnant; not with your husbands baby at least. He only cut you off because he couldn’t stand hearing about your past lover; he only wanted to think about the life you and him would live together.

“No!” You shouted, and he can once again see tears welling in your eyes. “My husband’s been gone for so long now, I can’t be pregnant. We were only trying, and we never succeeded. That’s why it’s all in boxes, I was never going to need it when I was single.” The story you spun should have broken Ben’s heart, but the only words he could focus on were “we were trying.” He thinks back to the first night the two of you had sex, he had convinced himself that you were a virgin and now it would seem the truth was catching up to him. He stares at you as he works to calm the rage inside of him. Ben just can’t stand the thought of you having sex with anyone else but him. He knows it’s not your fault, he knows it’s not his fault but his mind turns to anger anyway. He looks down at the items in his hands, taking a minute to direct his anger instead to curiosity.

He’s able to think about your future together, and realizes that kids were apart of that future he envisioned. Of course, he didn’t want them now, but he was smart enough to pick up on the fact that, at one point in time, you did want children. He holds the burp clothes tight in his hand as the gears tick in his head. No, he didn’t want children, but if it would make you happy he could give you some.

“If you want a child, you know we can have one right?” He said, and when he took the time to lift his eyes to you he’s almost shocked to see how white your face is.

“That’s not…” you stutter, stepping back another foot and pulling on your leash. “I mean, no, Ben. I don’t want kids. It was, it was a one-time thing and now I’ve decided against it.” A nervous giggle is emitted from your throat and Ben notices your hands shaking. It’s clear the answer is no, but Ben keeps it in the back of his mind for now. If all else failed, the two of you could start your family a little bit earlier than he wanted to. You already had pacifiers and burp cloths, to Ben it was a good enough foundation for him.

Ben turns back to the boxes and places his discoveries back from where they came, also taking the time to fish through whatever else was in the box. He couldn’t see very well, so the first thing that caught his eye he pulled it out into the open. He had to twirl it around in his hands a few times before he realizes he’s holding a heavy suit jacket.

“Please don’t touch that!” You cry out so suddenly. He snaps his head toward you and eyes you, now thoroughly confused with everything going on around him. Clearly this article of clothing wasn’t for you; it was much bigger than you were and wouldn’t fit you. Once again he had been blocking the existence of your husband from his mind and it didn’t hit him until he saw you frantically lunging for it in his hand. He pulls it out of your way and then pushes you back ever so slightly.

“Why, what’s so special about it?” Ben asks you. You audibly gulp as you once again reach for it, going as far as to touch him with your body but Ben still holds the suit jacket out of your reach.

“It was the suit my husband married me in.” You said while still holding your arm out. He squint his eyes at you and turned back to the box where he dug even further. “Ben, please. I’m begging you, don’t hurt it!” Almost as soon as you stopped talking Ben spoke up, unable to hide his irritability with your obsession of the man. Ben just couldn’t wrap his head around why you were so stuck in the past. You had him now, your husband was long gone and would never come back. There was no reason for this foolishness, and Ben couldn't hold his anger back.

“Why does it matter so much to you? You’ll never see him wear it again!” Ben yelled, his voice echoing off of your garage walls. You drew your hand back as he snapped at you, tears welling in your eyes.

“Because it’s all I have left of him!” You shouted back at him, taking him by surprise. “Everything in that box and a few others here, it’s all his and I couldn’t stand to get rid of them.” You turned to bawl once again in front of him. “Please, please! Please don’t throw it away!” You begged, but Ben couldn’t take it anymore. Once again he felt insecure in himself. Why was it that you were this emotionally attached to an article of clothing that belonged to a dead man, but not to him who was alive and willing to shower you with all of his love and attention. It enraged Ben, and the only thing he could think to do was end this interaction before he turned ugly like he did yesterday in your kitchen. He slams the coat back into the box, not bothering to close it back up before dragging you toward the garage door. Today would just have to be a day where he goes into work a little bit early, in order to save his relationship that was already on the rocks according to him.


Work that evening for Ben was tense. He couldn’t let your reaction to the suit go, couldn’t imagine why you’d even want to hang onto such a thing. He managed to talk himself into believing that he’d never hang on to a dead person’s stuff, no matter how much he loved them. He got this thought while driving back to the shop from southern Seattle, and it made him wonder what would happen if you were to pass away. The ending of his wonderful dream forced him to confront the thought, and he only just now decided to give it some thought.

The thought of you being ripped away from him by death itself makes him jump in the seat of his car. How would he even go on? By now he was 100 percent certain the no one, not even your husband or your parents, loved you more than he did, and without you he would be nothing.

Suddenly he can see how you would want to horde your husband's belongings. If he were to lose you he’d want something to remember you by. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he tries to come up with something that he could keep. He thinks of it as preparing ahead, preparing for a disaster in case the unthinkable happened. That was always good to do, right? Of course. It wasn’t that he wanted to see you die, he just wanted to be prepared if you did. He eases off of the steering wheel as he turns into the pizza shop parking lot, and when he parks he takes a look down at his phone which is still recording you in the bathroom. Your blank, uninterested eyes stare back at him and he assumes you’re diligently watching whatever movie was on rotation. He looks at the tape covering your face, recalls how good it felt to make love to you today and the first memento that pops into his mind makes his lips quirk up in a sly, stupid smile:

Your underwear.

Should you pass away prematurely, the number one thing Ben would want to keep would be your underwear. And he wouldn’t keep them in a box sitting in an unused garage, he would put them in a place where he could interact with them every day. Where he could touch them, where he could admire them, and, of course, he could smell them.

He turns his car off and places his hand above his cock as he realizes that he’s been deprived of your underwear for a while, just the thought of smelling them makes his blood flow. His eyes travel down your body on a hunt to observe your lower half. He plans to smell them as soon as he gets home, but an awful sight stops him cold in his tracks.

The jeans he chose for you were soaked, and so was the tile underneath of you. He gasps at the sight of your accident, guilt washing rapidly over him and he doesn’t know what to do. In his anger he had forgotten to offer you the toilet before he left, and now he’d have to pay the price. He takes a look at the analog clock in his car, it was 7 PM and he had been gone for six hours so far and still had to work another three. He didn’t think he could spare the time to run back home, or lose the pay. He debates on turning the microphone on and assuring you that he’d clean you up and take care of you as soon as he gets home, but he doesn’t want you to know that he’s been watching you all day. Instead, he puts his phone to sleep and starts the process of getting out of his car. Now more than ever does he want to be at home with you, even if he won’t be able to sniff your panties like he wanted to.


Ben runs out of the door at 9:59 PM, drives home as quickly as he can. He wastes no time in busting through the bathroom door, succeeding in startling you and making you jump as the door slams into the back wall. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Ben says as he crouches down in front of you. You stare at him through your glassy eyes as he bites the bullet, shoves one hand under your soiled pants and the other under your back and lifts you into his arms. “I didn’t mean to leave you like this. Why didn’t tell me you had to go before I left?”

Of course you can’t answer him with the duct tape over your mouth, but Ben doesn’t care. He carries you bridal style up the stairs to the other bathroom where he carefully sets you on the toilet. Before undressing you he turns the shower on as hot as it can go, then turns his attention to you where he tears the duct tape off, strips you of your damp sweater and pants and collar, peeled your underwear off of you and then shuffled you into the shower. Your face was unmoving, fixated on a single point on the wall behind him. It was like you were pretending he was not there, which he didn’t appreciate. He was the one cleaning up your mess for you, he should have made you clean it up but his guilt wouldn’t allow it.

Once you were situated in the shower Ben darts out to the bedroom where he retrieved your phone from his backpack. He had wanted to check your bosses reply to his declaration and he thought now would be a good time to do so. He sits on the toilet as you clean yourself and surfs through your phone, doing a quick surf of your Instagram and Facebook he makes sure nothing was out of the ordinary before switching to your messaging app. Sure enough, your boss was the last one to text you at noon:


How long is a while? I need you to call me and tell me what’s going on.


He furrows his brows as he reads over the text over and over. The only thing he could pull from the conversation was that your boss wanted to talk to you, and instantly red flags went up in his mind.

He kept himself quiet as he went to scrolling up in his conversation with your boss, going past the texts he had sent and up until he felt he needed to stop.


Happy Birthday Eric! Hope you have a good day.


You texted him almost exactly half a year ago.


Thank you, beautiful I can’t wait to see you for my surprise party.


He replied a short time later with a winky emoji.


Stop being silly. I didn’t throw you a surprise party.


You replied, but Ben had seen enough. What he saw was you having an office affair with your boss, which in his mind was disgusting in and of itself. Hadn’t your friend Nina just asked if you went on a date? Was cheating something you did often? Ben’s hand flies to his forehead as his mind races with dark thoughts he didn’t want to be having. Was this affair going on while your guys were dating, before he moved in? Ben lets out a stressed sigh as he looked at your blurred reflection in the shower, should he bring it up to you? Should he ignore it? He’s conflicted, but eventually Ben figures out what he wants to do. Instead of comforting you directly, he confronts your boss by asking him why he wants to talk to you so bad.

His foot bounces as he waits for a reply while his hands open and close on his knee. He’s nervous, but as soon as your phone vibrates in his palm he’s lifting it and unlocking it faster than he could handle the response:


What do you mean her? Who is this?


Ben is momentarily confused until he reads the message he sent:


Why do you need to talk to her?


Fuck.” Ben says between his clenched teeth. He fucked up, he fucked up and he didn’t know what the consequences would be. His fingers began typing at a nearly impossible pace as he tries to cover his ass, thinking of the first excuse that pops into his mind:


I’m sorry, that was autocorrect. Why do you need to talk to me?


It takes a minute for your boss to reply, but when he does it’s in the form of a call. Ben’s heart leaps in his chest and his hands quake around your phone. Ben doesn’t know what to do. He obviously can’t answer it, but he doesn’t know if he should deny it or just let it ring. He places the phone on the counter and just watches it, thinking his anxiety wouldn’t allow him to decline it in fear of doing something stupid and answering it by accident. He watches it like a hawk, sweat mixing with the shower steam on his forehead, until it finally stops ringing and the screen goes black. He allows the tension to fall from his body as he simply waits for the phone to do anything else, but it never does. Instead the shower shuts off and after standing around and wringing out your hair you open the door and carefully step out into the bathroom Your presence immediately puts him at ease, and he finds himself relaxing.

“Are you ready for bed?” He asks you, standing and reaching for the towel to hand you. You nod your head at him in reply, accepting the towel and wrapping it around your body. You know the song and dance by now: Ben allows you to dry yourself and then he collars you while you dress in front of him. When you’re ready he leads you out to the bedroom where he tethers you to the bedpost like he does every night and then strips his clothes off down to his underwear.

What’s the worst that could possibly happen, really? Your boss comes to your house looking for you? All he’d have to do is keep you taped up for long enough to make him go away, then everything would be straight. Ben lays down in the bed next to you and shuts the light off, whispering ‘goodnight’ and then wrapping his arm around your midsection like he always did. Nothing would take you away from him, he was sure of it. He would hold you here forever if he had to. He adjusts himself, relaxes in the dark there behind you. This is what he needed all day long, and he was going to savor every moment of it until he fell asleep.

Just as he’s drifting off to sleep a sudden, provoking thought appears in his mind, causing him to flinch and his eyes to open wide. With all this talk about your husband and marriage today, Ben has to wonder: Was there a way he could bind himself to you, so that, legally, nobody could take you away from him?

Chapter Text

Day 4, she smells of commitment.

Marriage was something Ben had never considered for himself. He had watched his parent's marriage fall apart at the seams and he knew he never wanted the same for himself. Truthfully, Ben thought he’d never even find the love of his life, but of course that all changed the moment he laid his eyes on you.

He’s restless enough to sneak out of bed at 2:45 AM, long after you had fallen asleep and creep down into your office. He woke your computer and got to work on researching the process of marriage in Washington state, and to his surprise, it was relatively easy. First he had to obtain a marriage license, he had to wait three days and then marry you within sixty days. He didn’t even have to be in person to apply for a sixty-day license, he could mail out an application with the fee and have them run everything from home. From there, all he had to do was marry you within sixty days and you’d be his to have and to hold for the rest of his life.

He worries about the ceremony portion. It would seem all he would need would be someone to officiate the wedding and two witnesses, it didn’t have to be costly and it didn’t have to be big. He wondered if he could do it here in his home, have something private since the only people that matter in this affair were him and you. He sits back, imagining how an entire wedding ceremony in his living room would look. The two of you standing in front of your fireplace, holding hands as he recited his vows to you. He could see your smile as you stand there in a beautiful white wedding gown, your face concealed by a veil that he has to lift. His heart flutters as he imagines how he’d kiss you, how then his commitment to you would be finalized forever.

His entire body begins to shake as he realizes this is what he wants. He wants to marry you, he wants to show you how much he is committed to you and he thinks the sanctity of marriage would do just that. Sure other people, like his own two parents, wouldn’t take it as seriously as it should, but Ben wasn’t an ordinary person. Ben loved you so passionately that he was going above and beyond for you, risking his life and reputation to show you how deep his love ran. But unfortunately for him, you were too stubborn to understand.

He leans back in his chair and stares blankly at the screen, trying to decide if this would really be worth it or not. The license would be easy enough to obtain, but how could he pull off the second portion? He has no doubt that as soon as he let anyone into the house you’d freak out and run, beg them for help which would only put both of you in danger. He squints his eyes at the application, contemplating his options. Maybe the best thing to do would be to apply for the license now and hold onto it. Sixty days was a long time, enough time for him to formulate a plan. With undying hope in his heart he right clicks on the document and sends it to print. He has this under control. He has you under control and he has himself under control. This wedding would be easy, and he would have plenty of time to iron out the wrinkly, uncertain details.

Ben has to track down your purse which holds your driver’s license and social security card in order to fill out the application, and when he fills out your portion he’s quick to check off the box labeled ‘Widow.’ Using your license he forges your signature upon the line and goes to fill out his section of the application, checking off the single box and feeling eccentric about this new chapter of his life that was opening. Now all he had to do find someone to notarize it and he could collect the money and send it off to the courts. He set the paper down on the counter in order to worry about it later. For now, he had wedding planning to do.


Ben looked up everything he could think of starting with where he could get documents notarized and ending with anything wedding related. He looked up different kind of suits with his favorite being a thick, maroon, velvety suit that an actor had recently worn to the Golden Globes. He was sure it was out of his price range, but he didn’t have any doubts that he could get one in time for his ceremony. Next he looked at wedding dresses and fell in love with a long-sleeved, stylized gown that would match the velvet suit he picked out, and if you didn’t like that one there was a more modern dress in a maroon color that he loved just as much. He trembles as he thinks of how beautiful you’d look walking down the steps and into the living room, tears blurred his vision just thinking about the sight. This was an important decision he was making for the two of you, but he had no doubt he’d make it perfect.

He looked at different hairstyles, bouquets, wedding cakes, gfits, rings, and whatever else google tells him he needs to know until his phone vibrates several times in his pocket. He picks it up, thinking he was getting a phone call but was quite horrified to see that his 6 AM alarm was going off. It was Monday morning and he was working 8-2:30, he had to get up and get going before he was late for work.

He tries not to think about how he had just spent the last three hours and fifteen minutes planning his wedding instead of sleeping like he should have been, instead he shuts your computer down and heads up the stairs to wake you and start your day as well. You were sleeping so peacefully there splayed out on your belly, and even though Ben was exhausted he still took the time to laugh at you and call you a bed hog under his breath. He couldn’t wait to tell his friends at work about how his wife was a bed hog, when he could really call you his wife. A smile breaks out over his face as he nudges you awake, then starts your morning routine.


He has you securely taped up with the laptop recording your every movement while he’s at work, and after begrudgingly working six and a half hours he is finally on his way home back to you. He had planned on stopping by the bank on his way home from work to get the marriage license application notarized, but he was far too tired for that. He didn’t even think he was going to make it home without falling asleep behind the wheel, but when he does he feels like he can’t get to you fast enough.

He greets you like he always does, first undoing your feet restraint and then your arms. He starts the conversation by opening up about his lack of plans for dinner, about how he was thinking about just ordering more pizza since he was too exhausted to cook. Of course you couldn’t say anything back to him, at least until he removed the duct tape from your mouth. He had a bad habit of doing this when he returned to you from work, and he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

“Sorry, Sweetheart.” He says as he grasps the corner of the tape. “I’ll learn someday.” Just as he’s about to expose the corner of your lip, a thunderous knock at the front door caused both of you to jump where you were. “Oh, shit.” Ben mumbles under breath as he looks down and sees a sparkle in your eyes, one that he had never seen before. “Shit!” He exclaims while looking down at the now defunct duct tape sitting at his feet. He had no idea who’d be at the door; your boss, your neighbors, or even worse, the police? He presses his ear against the door and listens for anything else, anything like ‘ come out with your hands up’ or ‘ Ben Solo, you are under arrest!’ But instead he hears yet another powerful knock on his front door.

“I have to go see who that is.” He says, feeling anxious from his head down to his toes. “Stay here. Stay put don’t move!” He says as he throws the door open, first peeking from around the door through the two long windows that were on each side of the door. He instantly recognized the silver hair that stared back at him, and when the man turned around to knock for the third time there was no mistaking that it was Ben’s father on the other side.

“Oh my fucking god.” Ben mumbles, looking back at you who was now standing right behind him. The leash allowed you to stand within a foot of the door and he knew leaving you here like this would be disastrous. You would rip the duct tape off your mouth and scream the second he walked away, this would simply not do.

In one movement Ben reached for the key in his back pocket and unlocks the end of the leash, wrapping it all the way around his hand and pushing you out of the bathroom. You squealed as he placed his hand over your mouth and his other around your body to stop you from flailing your arms. From behind it probably looked like he had his arm around you, lovingly leading you toward the stairs (minus his hand over your mouth of course). He rounded the corner to the landing where he took a cautionary look over his shoulder. His dad was still out there, and it hurt when their eyes locked together for just a second. “Fuck!” He whispered, clutching your closer to him. His father must have seen you, he must have. Ben’s heart hammers in his chest as he pushes your unwilling body into your bedroom and toward the bathroom. He only had time to formulate this one plan, and he had to hope that it would keep his father off of his back.

He had grabbed the duct tape before pulling you up the stairs, but before he taped you up on the floor of your upstairs bathroom he shut the shower on as far as it could go. “Stay put.” He scolded as he wrapped the tape around your wrists and ankles as securely as he could. Before leaving he even placed an extra piece of tape over the already existing tape on your mouth. “Stay put!” He reminds you again over your whimpers and silent pleads for help. “Just stay here. I’ll let you meet my dad later, but not now.” He assures you, taking the time to place a kiss over the duct tape on your mouth. He pulls on the leash that he’s locked to a pipe behind the toilet as he always has, then sprints out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, down the stairs to your front door.

He takes a breath before unlocking it, pulls it open and comes face to face with his father. “Hey, son.” His father says with a hefty smile on his face. It as a smile Ben hadn’t often seen, a type of smile that spoke to him differently from the last time he had seen him in the flesh. A smile full of pride, of adoration. Ben could only assume his father was proud of his newest accomplishment, his home and his girlfriend, but he wouldn’t count his chickens before they hatch. His father could be here for a much different reason for all he knew; he just had to keep himself together.

“Hey, dad.” Ben stutters, trying to figure out how he knew Ben was living here now.  The two men stare at each other for a second before his father took a step back, began eyeballing his door frame and the inside of his house like he was amazed.

“So this is where you’re living now, eh?” His dad says with a chuckle, but Ben was not amused. “It’s huge!”

“Uh, uh yeah. My girlfriend, she’s a, a….” Ben trails off, unable to think of a lie quickly enough. Technically her late husband was the richer one between the two of them, and he was a lawyer. “She’s a lawyer. She practices law.” Ben lies, smiling at his father and hoping he’d buy it. He hadn’t allowed you to go back to work in four days, he had become the main breadwinner of the family.

“Is that right?” His father says, his eyes widening in surprise. Ben could only nod his head. “Well that’s wonderful, Son. I was hoping to spend some time with the two of you today.” His father says, but that’s the last thing Ben wants from this interaction. The shower runs off in the distance behind him and he has to make a quick decision. He has no idea how his father knew this was where he was living now, but perhaps it would be a good idea to let him in and stay for a few minutes. He doesn’t want to keep you locked up long, so this would have to be quick.

“Sure. Sure come on in dad. I have a minute.” Ben says as he nervously steps aside. He swallows a thick wad of saliva as his father steps in and looks around the foyer. Ben watches as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants and turns around on his heels to face him.

“She in the shower?” He asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just got home and she said she needed one.” Han nods, turning back around and heading into the living room. “Can I get you something to drink, dad?” The atmosphere is full of awkwardness and pain, Ben just cannot believe his father found him. He follows close behind him, cursing himself for not moving his car into the garage sooner.

“No, I’m alright. Mind if I have a seat?” He father asks with a hefty smile, Ben only nods his head, Again, Han takes a sweeping look around his living room before resting his eyes on Ben, engaging him in yet another conversation.

“This is really nice, Ben. I’m so proud of you.” A smile cracks over Ben’s face as his father’s words resonate within him. He really should have been more proud of his own accomplishments. He met, moved in with, and became engaged to such a wonderful woman, lived in a large, lavish house with her and was planning his wedding. He was successful, and he was at least grateful of the fact that his father saw everything going on around him.

“I’m sure she’s a wonderful girl, how did you meet her?”

“Through work. You know, the usual.” Ben chuckles, sitting down on the recliner that’s across from his father. His smile fades, however, when he notices a scowl settling on Han’s face. He had just started to relax here with his father, but now he had gone back to panicking due to one strange facial expression.

“You met a lawyer through work at the pizza place?” Ben’s heart skips a beat, he clears his throat as he thinks of yet another lie to counteract Han’s suspicion.

“Yeah. I mean, no.” Ben stutters, lifting one of the decorative pillows into his lap and fidgeting with the twine at the end. “I just, I delivered pizza to her fairly often. She invited me in one night and, and then, you know. We started to date.” It was then Ben realized something was wrong. He couldn’t just tell his father you didn’t know the two of you were dating, or that you didn’t know he was moving in. Sure, it wasn’t an ordinary relationship, but it’s all Ben had. He was sure you wouldn’t mind as soon as the adjustment phase was over. Once the two of you got used to each other, once he didn’t have to use the leash and the duct tape, you’d be like any other couple out there. Husband and wife probably, not just boyfriend and girlfriend like you were now.

“Is that so?” Han said, lifting a brow skeptically.

“Yeah, yeah it is.” Ben trails off, suddenly pointing to the kitchen in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you a Coke? Or a water, or, something.” His father sighs, looking off into the kitchen. Ben worries he’ hasn’t convinced him. He worries that he’ll take you away from him and every fiber in his being is telling him to kick his father out of his home. But he can’t, it would be too suspicious. He had to stay calm, think logically, and work his way out of this mess. No one would be taking you away from him, not if he could help it.

“No, I’m alright, thank you.” Han says, looking back at Ben and leaning his arms on his knees. “I’m just worried about you, stepmom is worried about you and so is Rey.” Ben shakes his head at the mention of his unwanted stepfamily. Was this really what this was about, an intervention?

“Well, you can tell them there’s nothing to worry about. I’m doing just fine.” His father smiles understandingly at him, but Ben has gone back to fidgeting with the pillow.

“Mom is worried about you too. She called me the other day, asking me about where you were and how you were doing. You should give her a call when you can.”

“I will. But really, there’s no reason to worry dad. We’re okay.”

“I understand that Ben. But we’ve been calling and you haven’t been picking up your phone. We haven’t heard from you and haven’t even met this girl yet, we don’t even know her name. You just, disappeared one day and we haven’t heard from you.” Ben feels as if he’s being attacked and can’t help but to throw his defensive walls up. He fears Han is going to take you away, or pull him out of what he now considered his home. He can’t bear the thought and speaks before thinking about his rash words.

“How did you even find our home?” Ben asks, his voice rising higher than he wants it to. “Did you follow me home from work?” Han nods his head once, bobbing it further down to his chest and back up without looking at him. “I did. I wanted to make sure you were--”

“Dad, I am fine.” Ben shouts, standing to his feet and talking over him. “We’re both happy here. We have each other and that’s all we need!” Ben’s shaking as he finishes his sentence, stomping on the ground and wishing his father would just leave. He’s on edge, he wants you and he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to calm himself before freeing you. He has always had anger issues, and the last thing he wants to do is take his anger out on you again.

His father sits there wordlessly, staring at Ben until a defeated sigh escapes past his lips. “Okay, Ben.” He says before standing and turning from him. “You’re okay. That’s good to hear.” His father sounds hurt by his outburst, and just as quickly as the anger appeared inside of him it dissipates into guilt. “I just wanted to check on you, son. That’s all.” Ben watches as he walks out of the living room and into the foyer, doesn’t think to follow him until Han turns his head to look into the bathroom. The duct tape and laptop are still in there from when he returned and untied you, he didn’t want his father to see them and get even more suspicious than he already was. He walked briskly to the door, shoving his way past Han and shutting the door with enough force to rattle both himself and his father.

“Th-thanks, dad.” Ben says, clearing his throat and passing off his father’s confused expression. He’s almost calmed down, able to think clearly but he would still rather his father leave.

“I’ll just be going. Keep in touch, okay?” His father says, Ben’s heart sinks as he notices the tears in his eyes. As he unlocks the door he nods and whispers a short ‘Of course’ in reply. His father sulks out with his head held low, and before Ben can shut the door his father is speaking to him once again.

“Bring her around when you get the chance. Maybe you’d both be more comfortable in our home, rather than yours.” Han turns around, with tears still in his eyes he smiles optimistically at Ben, but the thought plagues Ben more than it probably should. You leaving the house, you meeting his family that hates him, it would only end in disaster for him. He slams the door in his father’s face without saying goodbye. He hoped his father would never show up here ever again. There was no reason to, Ben had already renounced his old family and didn’t care for them at all. He leans against the door, willing his heartbeat to return to normal before confronting you. If it were up to him, he’d spend the rest of his life in this house with only you. He didn't need his father, or his mother, or his wretched stepfamily. All he needed was you, his girlfriend and now his future wife.

Chapter Text

Day Eight. She smells of expensive wine.


Ben had never seen a more satisfying sight in his life when he checks the county records website and sees that his marriage license had been approved. The four day wait had nearly killed him, mostly because he had been keeping his engagement a secret from you. He didn’t want to get your hopes up for a marriage only to have it come crashing down around you if it got denied. He didn’t want to disappoint you, and he really didn’t want to disappoint himself. He wanted more than anything to marry you, and when his record showed that a marriage application had been put in under his name he was ecstatic. He had managed to evade all text and calls from your boss and, on this Friday morning that he had off, he jumped up from your computer and ran all the way to your room as he felt the need to celebrate. After all, he had missed your one week anniversary of living together due to the fact that he had taken a double shift at work. He had to make up at least some of the money he had spent on you in the last week, so when offered the second shift he took it without any hesitation. But none of that mattered, because today was a day for you and him. He had to make it good; maybe he’d even reveal his big plans to marry you today.

It’s only 9 AM and he rushes into your room to find you still sleeping peacefully under the covers, the comforter tucked up under your chin just as he had left you to check your computer. He didn’t know how many times he had seen you so peacefully, but each and every time it tugged at his heartstrings. When you slept like this, you weren’t fighting him, you weren’t crying, you weren’t begging to be released. Ben loved you unconditionally, but he loved you the most when you were asleep. He steps a bit closer, a stupid smile spreading over his face as he resists the urge to touch you. An amazing idea floats through his mind, and in a moment he’s stepping silently to his backpack where he retrieves his cellphone, readying his camera as to be able to remember this moment forever. He zooms in so that he can capture most of your angelic face when yet another brilliant idea strikes him like a hot iron.

Why do this on his camera, when he could do it on yours and post it to your Instagram and quell everyone’s fears? The concerned texts had flooded over the last few days and he had to reply to each and every one of them. “When can I come over and see you?” “When can we meet for lunch?” It was tiring to Ben, and he thought if he could provide some photographic evidence maybe these people would leave you alone. After all, you were safe. They had no reason to be worried about you.

Ben snaps a picture of you sleeping before turning his attention back to his backpack. He kept your phones together in the corner furthest from the bed so you couldn’t reach them while you were tied to the bed, and he often kept your phone off so that if you did manage to get your hands on it you wouldn't be able to unlock to contact anyone. Ben turned your phone on and waited for it to boot up, typed in his pin code and immediately went to the Instagram app. Although he had never posted any photos on Instagram himself, he was still familiar with the layout and how to get to where he needed to get to. He surfs through your notifications, your likes, your concerned comments, and direct messages. You were so popular that a part of him wonders why someone hadn’t come to your house looking for you yet.

But Ben wasn't bothered. It had been over a week and no one had come looking for you yet. That probably meant no one ever was, and it put Ben at ease. He loads up the camera function of the app and positions your face within the viewfinder. While Ben was rummaging about you hadn’t woken, only slightly positioned your hand in front of your mouth in order to get comfortable. In this position your collar and leash couldn't be seen, and Ben counted himself lucky. The camera also wasn’t able to see your nude body, as every night for the past four nights he had taken it upon himself to fuck you. Not a single night ended him in dressing you or himself, so this morning the only thing you were wearing was your collar and his dried cum stains on your breasts--at least the ones that he had missed cleaning from the breast fucking he had performed on you. It was the perfect position, and in his mind he counted down and then pressed the shutter button. To his horror your flash went off, illuminating your face with a bright white light for a second before finally taking the picture and displaying it for him to see. He stands still as he waits for you to do something, anything at all, but nothing happens. You don’t flinch, you don’t stir, you don’t wake. Ben is relieved, and he moves to his side of the bed where he can finish the post in peace.


“Sleeping Beauty, that’s me”


He types out without any second thoughts, then hits the share button without sharing the picture to your Facebook or Twitter. He feels relieved as he holds down the power button and shuts your phone down before placing it back in the inner pocket of his backpack. Maybe now people would stop bothering you about your whereabouts.


“So do you know what yesterday was?” Ben asks you as he sets down a freshly microwaved toaster strudel down in front of you with the icing packets on the side.

“No, what was it?” You say glumly. Ben smiles and becomes giddy when he can taste the words on his tongue. Your anniversary. It was your one week anniversary with him, and his excitement to remind you overtakes his anger that you had forgotten or hadn’t been keeping track.

“Yesterday was our one week anniversary of me living with you.” He says excitedly, but his eagerness fades as you don’t do or say anything in response to him. “Don’t you remember? I moved in last Thursday.” He probed, and when you lifted your brows before messing with the packet of icing, fiddling to try and get it open, he grows enthusiastic once again.

“It’s already been a week?” You say, the color draining out of your face as you look away in shame. Ben nods his head as he snatches the icing from your hands and tearing it open for you.

“Yes it has. We’ve come a long way haven’t we?” Ben smiles as he lowers his hand and squirts the icing onto one of your toaster strudels. He hadn’t meant for anything this morning to be sexual, but the stark white on the flesh colored pastry does unspeakable things to him. In the last four nights, he’s finished on your back, on your belly, and on your breasts. The exception was when he convinced you to use your mouth on him. You didn’t want to at first, but after restraining your wrists and ankles like he always did and locking you to the foot of the bed he was able to bend your stiff body and neck into the position he wanted. He held your mouth open, stood at the side of the bed, sinking his way deeper and deeper to the back of your throat. You gagged a few times, but Ben had enough experience from the internet to know that that meant you were appreciative of his cock and you were complimenting his size. Through the lewd, fleshy noises he continued to fuck your mouth until he had pulled himself out and finished all over your face. Your nose, your cheeks, your forehead and chin were all decorated with his warm, salty seed, and just like after every round of sex the two of you shared you cried. He had come to expect this and knew it wouldn’t stop any time soon, but that was okay. It would take a lot longer than a week for you to be comfortable with Ben, and he understood and respected that.

Ben collected himself and his thoughts before picking up his two pastries and moving to the other end of the table where he sat down and admired you for a second. He loved you so much, more than he loved anyone or anything else on this green Earth. How was it that he had only actively been spending time with you for a week and he was already in love with you, more than he did when he was just interacting with you through Instagram and through your panties? He couldn’t wait to marry you, in fact, he had the option he could do it right now. But you weren’t aware that the two of you were marrying yet, and he still had to find a way to get these documents signed by an official without your consent. Ben already knew you wouldn't willingly marry him, but he didn’t want to let that get in his way.

“I have a surprise for you.” Ben says as he spreads his own icing on his pastry with his finger. “Well, two surprises I guess.” He corrects himself. One being the red wine and huge tri-tip steak he had brought to celebrate your one week anniversary and the other being your marriage proposal. Ben had decided he didn’t want to waste the money on engagement rings since actual wedding bands were going to be more expensive and more important. Besides, he only has sixty days to marry you. He wouldn’t have time to get engagement rings.

“I planned a very special evening for us tonight. I want us to have a date in our home, I even went out and bought you a new dress. I got some nice clothes myself too.” Ben smiles before lifting his pastry to his mouth and taking a bite, the deep red and blue filling dripping from the end of the strudel and onto his shirt. “You’re going to look so beautiful, I can’t wait.” He didn’t see it, but you had taken a bite of your strudel too and were gingerly chewing it. You had a look in your eye that told him you had something to say, and he prematurely swallowed his food so he could listen to what you wanted to tell him. He was hopeful that you were excited about his surprise dinner as he was.

You swallowed harshly, your eyebrows pointing down toward your nose in a look of worry. “What is the second surprise?” You asked him. Ben could only chuckle at what he thought was enthusiasm.

“I’ll tell you later.” Ben says as humbly as he could. He really would like to surprise you, perhaps the day of your wedding. It’d be like one last gift he could give you, the gift of him. “For now, eat your breakfast. We can try on your dress later.” He urges you. From there, the two of you eat in silence.


Ben spends the afternoon sitting in the living room talking to you, and once the excitement of his marriage builds inside of him he takes you back into your office for more planning. While you’re tethered to the rolling chair he scrolls through long lists of people who were legally allowed to marry people in the state of Washington. Once again he’s faced with a conundrum of finding someone who would be willing to marry the two of you even though you were not consenting. He tried everything he could think of: Marriage groups, marriage chats, and emailing people. But everything came up the same. Both parties must consent to the marriage for us to officiate it. He huffed, finally giving into his frustration and googling the phrase “forced marriages.”

Much to his horror, lots of websites populated and 99 percent of them involved marrying children as young as five and six years old to older, adult men. Ben’s face contorted into a disgusted frown; this was far more illegal than he was willing to go. You weren’t a minor and he wasn’t at all interested in being married to one. He closes out of the window as quickly as he can, letting go of a breath he had held when he started reading the horrid headlines. He’s stumped, he’s shaken, and he knows there has to be a way around this. He opens google one more time and this time is a bit more careful with his search. He’s determined to find an answer to his problems, and he was willing to search until he could search no more.


It takes an hour and a half before Ben’s finally made some progress. In that time he’s searched, soaked in information like a sponge and, eventually, is in a chatroom full of sketchy people that Ben wouldn’t ever trust. They speak about dark, demented things that gives even him the chills, things he wants to protect you from and thinks about just closing the chat window. But no, this is the furthest he’s come and he wants to marry you without any issues. He’s only here to talk to one person, who is thankfully online at the time he’s joined. He double clicks the screen name and introduces himself as Kylo Ren, hoping that by using an alias he won’t get himself into too much trouble.


Hi. I need someone to marry my girlfriend and I.


He sends, taking a cautionary look down at you. You sit on the floor at his feet simply playing with the hem of your nightgown, and when you look up at him he quickly looks back at the screen. To his relief, the person he’s talking to replied almost instantly.


That’s my specialty. I’m a former judge in the state of Washington so I’m legally allowed to marry anyone. Is your girlfriend underage?


Again, grief grows in Ben’s heart at the mention of an underage girl. Ben feels sick, but at the same time relieved to know he had come to the right person. He gets to typing as quickly as he can.


No. She’s grown. She’s not consented to me living with her and I know she won’t consent to a marriage, but I want to marry her so bad.


The ex-judge begins to type once again and a hopeful smile forms over Ben’s face. This was happening, he was really going to marry you!


I don’t see that very often. But for the right price, I’ll do it. I’ll even provide the witnesses and your marriage will be legal.


Ben breathes a sigh of relief as he thanks the ex-judge for his generous offer. The two of them get to chatting and Ben finds that his price is outrageous. The ex-judge explains that this business was risky and the price was to cover the fact that the wedding was indeed illegal. He would be paying for the ex-judge and two witnesses to turn a blind eye to the woman being held hostage in her own home, and that certainly wasn’t cheap. Ben stares at the computer screen dumbfounded, he could certainly afford to pay for the man’s services with his most recent paycheck but there wouldn’t be much else. He takes another look down at you sitting on the floor. He wants a wife. He wants to be a husband. And even if it was going to cost him, it’s a risk he’s willing to take. Reluctantly he agrees with the man, and the two of them make arrangements to meet at the McDonalds not too far away from his home to process the cash payment he’s required. Ben closes the chat window and later closes every tab open on your computer. Success. He was finally going to be getting married to you.

Leaning back into the chair, Ben reaches down and pets your head. In response your eyes shut and your face twists into a cringe. With plans to marry you legally fully set in motion, he can’t help but to become giddy once again. He wants to tell you, but he wants to keep it a surprise. He brushes some of your hair out of your face as he hums the tune of “Here Comes the Bride.” He hopes you don’t catch on, but he can’t help himself. He loves you, and he can’t wait to fully dedicate himself to you through holy matrimony.


Outside Ben fires up your grill. He has never once grilled anything on an actual grill in his life, but he finds that Youtube has his back and figures he has nothing to worry about. With you securely tethered to the foot of the oven next to him Ben carefully trims the pale pink fat away from the steak, an action that he finds to be incredibly uncomfortable. The feeling of the uncooked flesh below him makes his skin crawl, but he powers through it onto the seasoning phase, all for you. He douses the steak with the slightest amount of olive oil just like the video tells him, then adds as many spices as he thinks will taste good from your expansive spice cabinet: Garlic powder, Onion powder, chili powder, and chipotle chili flakes among others. The video didn’t tell him much of what else to add, but he wings it. He’s sure by the end it’ll taste good and you’ll be thoroughly impressed.

Once he feels the meat has been seasoned he moves past you and past the cardboard covering the hole in the glass from a few days ago, out onto your back porch where he fires up your charcoal grill according to what the video told him to do. When he feels it’s hot enough, he simply drops the steak onto the grill. The video tells him to let it sit on both sides before moving it to the other side of the grill and letting it sit for about an hour and thirty minutes. Ben doesn’t think you have a meat thermometer and doesn’t actually think to ask for one. Instead he lets the meat sit for five minutes on one side, flips it to the other for another five minutes, then moves it to the other side of the grill where, apparently, the small amount of tin foil won’t directly heat the meat--or something. Ben doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to be doing, but he does it anyway. He covers the steak and then sets a timer for an hour and a half on his phone. Now it was time to prepare for the evening.

Ben leads you upstairs and tethers you to the bed, promising you that he had something good planned for the two of you. You give him an empty look as he walks away, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. Instead, he gets to work on his master plan.

He had done laundry the other night but hadn’t gotten around to putting it away. In that pile sat a tan bed sheet that had been sitting at the bottom of your laundry basket. It was around the same time he had got the idea to make up a fancy date night in his home, and holding the now clean bed sheet in his hand he realized he could use this as a table cloth. He set it to the side just for tonight and when the time finally came he rushed in to retrieve it. He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he lifted the sheet in the air and then let it fall gracefully onto the table. It looked like a mess, it was wrinkled and sort of clashed with the color of the wall and cardboard on the window sill. But at the end of the day, it didn’t matter to Ben. He was trying, and this was the best he could do.

He set out the tall wine glasses and the plates, even took it upon himself to roll two bundles of silverware into the paper towels just like at the fancy restaurants. In the laundry room he found some tea light candles that he thought would be perfect to set the mood. He would prefer regular stick candles, but he searched all throughout your house and you didn’t have any. It was no bother, because other than the candles being the centerpiece he also had a vase he placed your stolen, dying dahlias in for the center of the table. Everything was almost complete, and with each passing second Ben became more and more excited to share the evening with you.

With just fifteen minutes left on the clock, Ben sets up the music app on his phone to play lots of slow, classical music in his kitchen. He sets out the bottle of wine and takes one last look at the scene before he dims the lights, takes a deep breath, and then runs upstairs to you. He finds you staring blankly at the ceiling, the duct tape concealed your mouth and he grew completely tired of having to tape you up like you were a prisoner. However, it also stirs lots of hopeful emotions within him as he thinks about the gift he had bought for you. “Are you ready for our date?” He asks, a proud grin spreading over his face. You, on the other hand, say and do nothing in reply.

The yellow dress is almost identical to the one from his dream a few nights ago. He found it at a thrift store for $4. It flowers at your knee and hugs you sort of tightly at your torso, but he did have to guess your dress size so he cuts himself some slack. In that same trip he stopped by his home to pick up his dress pants, dress shoes, and a yellow dress shirt so the two of you could match. Luckily for him none of his family was home, so he didn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions.

He leads you by the hand down the steps, over to the front door where he chose a pair of white high heels for you to wear. He holds the leash as you sit down on the bottom step and strap them on; Ben was just the luckiest man in the world. When you’re finished and standing up he takes you by the hand once again, using the other to run his fingers through your hair as a last minute effort to comb it. He was short on time before the steak came out so he didn’t have time to do up your hair all fancy like he should have. But that was okay. Everything was okay. Because by the time he’s pulling the chair out for you the slow music on his phone fades and the timer for the steak goes off.

“Oh! That’s our dinner!” Ben says happily. He feels like he can’t lock your leash around the door handle fast enough, and when he does he’s immediately stepping out onto your deck. Smoke rises from the grill and when he lifts the top his tri-tip is sitting there looking delicious. Using a pair of tongs he lifts the steak onto a clean plate and rushes back into the house where he places it down and immediately starts cutting into it. It’s browner than he would like it, but the small strip of pink that exists within it tells him it’s cooked and safe to eat. He smiles a huge toothy grin, now all he had to do was serve it.

You sit and stare at the wall in front of you as Ben pours you some red wine. “Drink up. Tonight’s a special night.” Ben says as he sets the bottle down next to his plate and hurries back over to the steak. He doesn’t know anything about steak or how to cut it, so Ben takes the knife and cuts the steak down the middle horizontally. He plates the end with two tips on his plate and the other end goes on yours. “I hope you like steak, Sweetheart.” Ben says, looking over his shoulder at you. You have the glass of wine in your hand and are looking at him, but you still look terrified. As he turns to bring you your plate you turn around to face the table, seemingly not wanting to look at him. Ben mistakes the pink rising in your cheeks as embarrassment that he had put everything on for you and you did nothing to contribute. Ben doesn’t care. He wants to spoil you as always.

He places your half of the steak down in front of you and then moves to his side of the table where he unrolls the silverware and immediately digs in. He’s more than impressed with his amateur grilling skills. The steak is flavorful and tastes better than he could ever imagine. “Mmmm.” He moans, closing his eyes and savoring each flavor that comes through his tastebuds. “This is delicious!” He states, but when he opens his eyes he’s disappointed to find that you haven’t eaten anything. “Have a bite. I worked so hard on this for us.” He says, almost a little more forcefully than he would have liked. He didn’t mean it, but it did the trick to get you to eat. He watches with a smile on his face as you unroll the silverware and cut into your steak, breaking off the small piece and lifting it to your mouth. “Is it good? Do you like it?” He probes, leaning forward in your chair. He’s unsatisfied with the small nod you give him before placing your fork and knife down, but there’s not much he can do about it. Instead he pours himself a glass of wine and lifts it into the air.

“To us and our first week living together.” He says happily as he proposes a toast. Again, you still just sit there and do nothing. Ben’s face drops into a deep scowl as anger flows throughout his body. He put in all this work, spent his own money on the wine and steak as well as your new dress only for you to lack interest in the entire thing. It infuriates Ben, and before he knows it he’s reaching across the table and forcing your hand against your glass. “I’m proposing a toast, sweetheart. You need to be in on this too.” He wraps your fingers around the glass for you and to his pleasure, you hold it in your hand.

“Again, to us and our first week together.” He holds the glass in the air and waits for you to hold up your end of the deal, staring at you until you swallow and finally lift the shaky glass to his. He clanks his against yours a lot harder and some of his red wine leaks out over his glass and onto his hand. When he’s finally satisfied he gives you a grin, takes a swing, and then sets his glass down onto the table. He waits until you’ve taken the smallest sip to declare his next expectation:

“And to many, many more.” He smiles happily at you as he cuts back into his steak. But what stares back at him is a hardened look of horror at his proposal.

Chapter Text

Day Nine. She smells of dread, horror, and fear.


Ben wakes up in a groggy haze the morning after your one week anniversary celebration. He’s lying stiffly on his side and every single inch of his body, his mind, and his bones hurt. He groans as he forces his eyes open, the bright sunlight pierced his vision and worsened his headache tenfold. He didn’t remember getting so drunk last night, but the blurred, empty bottle of wine sitting right in front of his face would say otherwise.

He becomes seasick as he tries to pick his head up, moaning once again as he feels the wet contents of his stomach sloshing around inside of him and immediately feels like he’s going to get sick. But he doesn’t care. It dawns on him a little too late that he doesn’t know where you are, and it’s enough to sober him up momentarily. He can’t remember what he did last night or where he put you, and panic rises in his chest. Was this it? Had he gotten so drunk that he lost you? He props himself up on his sore arms before all of his fears were quelled almost instantly.

Your leash was secured to something underneath the couch, it dangled freely and it wasn’t until he followed it that he realized he was laying on top of part of it. He didn’t remember securing it and he certainly didn’t know what it was tied to, but he counted his lucky stars that you didn’t manage to get away. He finds you at the other end of the couch stretching your leash to its limits, reaching for something that he couldn’t see. You sat in front of him with your yellow dress pooled around you, your hair was a mess and the back of your dress had a large light purple stain on its skirt. “Sweet--sweetheart.” He hiccups as he balances himself to sit up, and you jump as the sound of his groggy, thick voice. Your head whips around so quickly it makes even him dizzy, and when you come scurrying towards him on your hands and knees he’s thoroughly confused.

“Oh, Ben.” You say worriedly. “Baby, you’re awake!” You coo to him. He’s so relieved to see you’re here, but he doesn’t know why you’re panicking. He turns his head to see what you were trying to reach and finds his pants from last night sitting at the other end of the couch. He looks down and nearly topples over on top of you as he realizes he was naked from the waist down. Luckily for him, you take his cheeks in your hands and pull him back up to you, ignoring his nakedness. He’s able to focus on you and what you had to say to him even though he's hungover to high heaven.

“Ben, I need you to concentrate. Are you listening to me?” You ask him, and even though your voice sends bullets through his mind he manages to nod. This was important to you and he was determined to make you happy even if he wasn’t in the best shape. “Okay, I need you to go to the store. Go to the store and get the Plan B pill.” You explain, but Ben didn’t understand.

“Which store?” He asks you and you sigh in frustration.

“It doesn’t matter! Just, just go to the CVS down the road! Ask for the Plan B pill and bring it home as soon as you can.” Ben is still confused. He’s heard of the Plan B pill but can’t recall what it’s for. He stares absentmindedly at you while he tries to remember only to be smacked lightly across the face.

“Ben!” You squeal at him, causing him to rock back away from you. “Please, pay attention!” You squeeze his cheeks in your fingers and inch closer to him, begging him for his understanding. “You came inside of me last night, you were drunk, and I don’t want to get pregnant. Ben, please listen to what I’m saying! Go get the Plan B and get back as soon as you can!” He meditates on your words and the realization sets in. Fragmented flashbacks hit him and he can just barely remember having you doggy style on the floor of the living room; the wine bottle in one hand and your hip in the other. He remembers having to hold you down, having to keep his hand over your mouth as you screamed and screamed at him, but in the end he still managed to fuck you. He didn’t remember cumming inside of you, he didn’t even remember falling asleep on the floor half naked and yet here he was.

“Did you hear me? Ben are you listening?!” You shriek, once again causing Ben a world of pain. By now he was tired of it. He heard you the first two times and here you were still yelling at him. You were annoying him, and he thought it was time to shut you up.

And what better way to do that than to grope your sex and lunge his body forward in order to sloppily kiss you? He did just that, and only succeeded in causing you to jump back away from him and scream. He hadn’t gotten to feel very much of you and he was partly disappointed, but it did make you stop talking to him for the time being. It was then he realized that you were bare from the waist down as well. He didn’t see your underwear around but at this point it didn’t matter. What’s done was done, and there was no taking it back.

“What’s the problem?” He asked with a giggle before wiping his arm across his mouth. Of course he knew what the problem was, but he just wanted to play with you a little bit. You, on the other hand, didn’t think any part of what he did to you was funny. Instead you pouted, burst into tears right there in front of him. Once again Ben was confused, and especially when you reared up on your knees and grasped the front of his shirt, fell into his lap and started sobbing into his chest.

“Ben please. I’m begging you, go get me the pill!” You bawled, pressing your face into his breastbone and squeezing his shirt impossibly tight. “This isn’t what I want my life to be. This isn’t what I want! You can’t just let me sit here and suffer like this!” Suddenly the weight of the world bared down on Ben’s shoulders. His body was wracked with guilt as he realizes that this was his fault. He had gotten so drunk, broke his own rule on not ejaculating inside of you, and now you were the one to suffer. Not him. You were terrified out of your mind and he hated seeing you so disturbed. This was 100 percent his fault, and there was only one way to fix it.

“Okay, okay I’ll do it for you.” He whispers as he wraps his arms lovingly around you. He’d do anything for you, even though he was confused about your reaction. Didn’t he just pull some baby items from a box a few days ago? Didn’t you just tell him that you were trying to have a baby with the other man? He didn’t understand what the deal was, why you didn’t want a baby with him, but he couldn’t argue with your tears. He presses his lips against your forehead as you start to relax in his embrace, sniffling and bringing your sobbing down to small whimpers. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He says as he brushes your hair out of your face. “I’ll fix it for you. I only want to take care of you, I’ve always told I’d take care of you.” He says as understandingly as he possibly could. He holds your closer to him as he basks in the love you gave him. Everything around him is still and quiet. His headache began to fade away as he starts to actually relax for the first time all morning long. Ben feels you start to squirm and he lets go of you, looking down as you slide free from his arms. He’s half hard from his morning erection and having it press against your thigh isn’t making things any better for him.

“Just go, quickly please.” You say as you move to stand to your feet, Ben isn’t too far behind you. The world spins around him and he feels like he’s going to get sick; perhaps going out right now would not be the best idea.

“I hear you. Let me just shower.” Ben suggests as he steadies himself. He starts to bend to pick up his pants and loses his balance, toppling over onto the couch and nearly knocking you over.

“There’s no time!” You shriek yet again, putting him in a bad mood. He glares at you as you glare at his pants, and the thought strikes him like a hot iron. The key to your leash was in his back pocket the last time he saw it, and that’s likely what you were reaching for when he woke up. Even though the contents of his stomach toss and turn inside of him he bends all the way down, picks up his pants and turns them about trying to find the pocket. Just as he thought the key was in the pocket and there was no doubt that’s what you were trying to get. He’s disappointed in your yet again, but not enough to go against your wishes. He thinks it’s an issue he can tackle later. For now, he would get the birth control you wanted.


Ben pulls into the CVS an hour later. After running some soap and water over his face, brushing his teeth and yours, and taping you up in the bathroom he set out to get you the medication you needed. He walked in as casually as he could. The last time he was here was when he printed the photos of you, most of which he couldn’t find anymore. He wasn’t sure where to go for the Plan B, but he figured a good first stop would be the baby aisle to get some Pedialyte. He would also need to get more duct tape as he was running very low. He didn’t see you not trying to run away any time soon so he picked up a package of pink duct tape with white decorative hearts. He then took a stroll around the store until he came upon the Plan B packages.

They were both locked up in clear packages with Red tops. One box was purple and the other was a light blue that was very clearly the off-brand version of the medication. The off brand version was fifteen dollars cheaper, and if he were buying it for anyone else that’s the one he would go with. But this was for you, and he only wanted the best. So he confidently picks up the purple Plan B pill box and heads to the front of the store where he patiently waits his turn in line. Once he reaches the front he avoids all eye contact with the cashier until it’s time to pay, and he hits a bumps in the road.

“I”m sorry sir, it says your card was declined.” The young man says to him, Ben look up to a look of concern on his face.

“It was what?” Ben asks, staring down at the debit card in his hand. “Here, try it again.” He says as he inserts the chip end of the card into the machine again. He presses the button, inserts his pin, waits for the beep, but the cashier shakes his head.

“Declined again. I’m sorry.” The cashier looks over his shoulder at the line that was beginning to form behind him as Ben begins to panic once again.

“Okay, I’ll just go get the cheaper Plan B.”

“Oh, don’t worry I have some back here.” The man says as he ducks behind the counter. He rescans the purple box and throws it to the side, removing it from the transaction, and adding the cheaper plan B. His total is only $45 now instead of $60 and he can’t imagine his card would be declined again. He inserts his card, hoping for the best but it’s declined once again. He’s sweating, his heart is pounding as he doesn’t know what’s going on. He tells the cashier to take everything else off except the pill and his card declines now for a fourth time, and now he feels as if he’s going to cry. He apologizes to the cashier before dashing from the line, into the parking lot back. Any other person likely would have been embarrassed, but Ben was in full panic mode. Possibilities raced in his mind of what was going on: Could the police have been alerted and they shut his account down? Could his card information have been compromised and some stole his money? These were all horrifying thoughts that he didn’t want to be having, and he feels the only thing that can calm him is you.

In the privacy of his own car, he opens his banking app and sees he has a whopping total of four dollars and fifty-two cents sitting in his account. His face goes completely white as he scrolls through his transaction history, kicking himself as he realizes paying the man to marry you took almost all of his last paycheck, and the last chunk of money he had was spent on filling up his car. He places his hand on his chest as his heat comes to an abrupt stop. What was he going to do now? Pay day wasn’t for another two weeks, and you needed the Plan B today. He had to come up with something, and after a few minutes of thinking he thought he had the perfect plan.


He’s home only a few minutes later, walking solemnly into your home emptyhanded. He trudges into the bathroom to your hopeful eyes and your words are frothing at your mouth almost as soon as he removed the duct tape.

“Please tell me you have the pill Ben.” You say to him, and he watches as your face falls with each passing second. “Baby, the Plan B pill?” You ask him. Ben can only take you by the hand and lead you to the living room.

He watches as you sit down on the couch, nervously scratching the seat cushions as you stare at him for an explanation. Ben paces the floor in front of you as he words formulate in his mind. He decided that this would be the ideal time to tell you about your wedding. He couldn’t believe he had made it this far without spontaneously combusting by holding in his excitement, or kept it a secret for this long. He figured now that a date had been set to marry you it wouldn’t be as big of a deal if you accidentally fell pregnant after he had intended to marry you. Plus he thought it was cruel to keep the joyous news from you for so long. So he decided amidst the confusion you faced, it was time to share the incredibly good news.

“Sweetheart, you know that I love you more than anything, or anyone, on this Earth, right?” He starts, stepping a bit closer to you. Your ankles cross and he knows you’re nervous, but he feels a bit better when you nod your head anyway. He takes in a deep breath, knowing your reaction wasn’t going to be ideal but he powers through it anyway. He needed to get it off of his chest. It was the only way he’d feel better.

“And you know I’d do anything, anything at all for you?”

“Of--of course Ben. Like how I know you went out to get me the Plan B pill. Right?” You stutter, and once again his heart sinks as he knows this is going to disappoint you.

“Well, I’ve made a decision for us.” Ben goes on, a smile breaks out over his nervous face and suddenly he has all the confidence in the world. “I didn’t get you the Plan B pill, because whether you’re pregnant or not won’t matter.” Ben takes yet another step closer to you and grasps your hand, sinking down to one knee as he prepares his official proposal line. Your mouth falls open and a look of terror races across your face, but it only fuels Ben’s excitement even more. “Because we’re getting married in the next few days. I’ve already done all the paperwork and the state has agreed to let us marry.” He lifts your cold, stiff hand to his lips and places a kiss upon your knuckles, but nothing would have prepared him from what happened next.

He watched as your face went completely white, you slumped forward and your body literally fell into his arms. He managed to catch you just in time, held you close as he tries to make sense of what just happened. You had just fainted, into his loving embrace after getting the shocking news of your marriage. A relieved smile breaks out over Ben’s face as he comes to his own conclusion: Just as he was, you were so overly excited about the good news of your marriage that you combusted as well. You fainted out of happiness, and now Ben felt like the his wedding couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter Text

Ben’s happiness quickly fades as reality hits him harder than the time you kicked him in the face. You sit there in his arms unmoving, Ben thought you were dead. With a shreik he drops you to the floor and stares at your immobile, unconscious body and doesn’t know what to do. His mind can’t focus on just one thing and soon he finds that sitting still won’t bring you back to life. Did he have to do the Heimlich maneuver, or was it CPR? Which was the one where he had to pound on your chest to jumpstart your heart? He can’t decide, so he ends up sucker punching you square in the chest. Your body convulses as you sit straight up, expelling a rough, fragmented breath of air before sitting up and succumbing to an intense coughing fit. You hold your eyes shut as you clawed at the rug below you. Ben desperately wants to see your beautiful eyes, to see your gorgeous face without your tears and look of fear, but the fact that you were coughing and moving was a good sign to him. A sign of life, a sign of light.

A sign that you would live to carry his child for him.

Ben was worried about his baby that he was sure you were pregnant with. After all, why else would you beg him for an emergency contraceptive pill? He didn’t know how it was supposed to work, other than it took a man ejaculating inside of a woman to get her pregnant. And he had done just that last night. Was it something you could feel? Was it something he could feel? He didn’t know, but he trusted your instincts about your body. He was afraid of the prospect of becoming a father, especially since he’d most likely have to birth it himself when the time came. How long would you be pregnant anyway? Was it a year? Ben can’t remember. Instead he files it in the back of his mind to research later. He knew it would take a while. He would have enough time to learn. After all, he wanted nothing more than to impress you. He knew the two of you would make great parents. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Ben breaths as you finally calm yourself enough to look at him. You sat quaking in his arms. He cradled you close as relief washes over him. He almost lost you. He almost lost his child. The loss is almost too much to bear and he counts himself extremely lucky, but he can’t help but to remember why you passed out in the first place. “I know you’re excited for our wedding, but please never do that again.” He pleads softly. He reaches down and sweeps a loc of hair from your face and is startled when you immediately burst into tears. He could understand your fear from almost meeting your death, but the painfully contorted face, red from ear to ear, and eardrum piercing scream was a little excessive.

“I’m not marrying you!” You shouted in the midst of your sobs. “I can’t, I don’t! I, I, I don’t consent! I never consented and I never will!” Ben is horrified by what comes out of your mouth. It stirs mixed feelings around in him and once again he’s stumped. He wanted to respect you and your wishes, to dismiss your fears as best as he could, but he saw marriage as his only option; especially since the two of you were to become parents in a matter of months. He wishes you would just trust him. He hadn’t hurt you yet and he never planned on ever hurting you. What was there to be afraid of?

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He coos, trying to calm you by placing his hand gently over your mouth. You kick and scream and try to throw him off of you; the action only angers Ben and he holds back the urge to lash out at you. “I said, it’s okay.” He presses his hand forcefully down on your mouth, and it’s enough to get you to sit still and listen to him for once. He sees the intense fear in your eyes and knows he has to do something, has to say something in order to bring everything back to normal. But he’s at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say, so he says the first thing that comes to his mind:

“I’ve already consented for you. I signed your name. I know this is what you--what we-- need right now. Especially since…” He slides his hand from your mouth to your belly, imagining his child swimming around underneath his hand and reaching up to him. It was such a surreal moment. It had finally dawned on him that the three of you would be a family. You, Ben, and a newborn baby. The thought brings tears to his eyes as he rubs his hand over your warm belly. Ben was going to be a father. He absolutely couldn’t believe it.

“...since we’re going to have a family soon.” His eyes wander back up to you and the tears that greet him hurt his heart. Why couldn’t you just be happy for once? Having a child was a good thing. It was the next logical step in your life and he just can’t understand your fear. “You don’t have to be scared. Please, sweetheart. Don’t be scared. I’m going to take care of all three of us.” He offers, squeezing his fingers around the flesh of your belly as best as he could. He feels closer to you and his child, feels contentment when you suddenly jerk your hips out of his lap and stumble to the floor.

“I don’t want to be pregnant!” You yell as you roll away from him. He watches in horror as you kick and claw your way across the floor, and he reached your ankle just in time to pull you back to him. “I can’t be pregnant! I don’t want to have your child!” You heaved into the rug, and Ben immediately worried about the impact this would have on his baby. 

He climbs up the length of your body and pins you to the floor, being careful to not even so much as breathe on your belly as he fears for the life of his child. “Relax.” Ben says, but at your reaction even he can’t relax. “You’ll just have to trust me, sweetheart.” Ben says as tears start to form in his eyes. His wedding was in a matter of days, he had a child on the way, and you were still so afraid of him. This was not working, and Ben was only just now becoming discouraged.


Day Eleven. She smells like tradition


On the morning of his wedding Ben’s a complete mess. He should have started prepping the night before, but instead he’s running around like a chicken without its head before the ex-judge and two witnesses show up to his house. He sets the scene: multiple towels and blankets starting from the steps to the altar he’s set up with the dining room chairs, his phone sitting on the closest one to him so he can play Here Comes the Bride when the one witness walks you down the aisle to him, and he sets up the small, homemade wedding cake he made last night on the ottoman. In crude script made from a knife and some icing, he writes your name and his, as well as the date of your wedding. Once everything was said and done, he dashed to the garage where he threw open the box of stuff he had fished through already, pulled out the black suit jacket and the baby items he found last time too. He wouldn’t need them now, but he was sure he’d need them soon enough. 

He pushed some other things aside until he had all three pieces of your late husband's suit in his hands. He knew it wouldn’t fit him, but you said it yourself: It was the suit your married your husband in. If he were going to be your husband, he wanted the suit to be just as meaningful as it was now. You were going to marry your husband in this suit today, and in Ben’s sick, delusional mind, it would be what you needed to finally get over the man that meant nothing to him and everything to you.

Just as he’s about to turn and leave, something white catches his eye. It sits underneath an old pillow that was packed in the same box, and when he moves the pillow he’s once again battling the need to cry. He reaches in and grips the translucent white mesh and pulls it out of the box. It’s your wedding dress. Clean, soft, and beautiful. His mouth falls open as he places the suit on top of some other boxes and allows the dress to fall free in his hands. The veil tumbles to the garage floor, but he can’t be bothered as he marvels at how pristine the dress was. Just like you, it was perfect. He couldn’t wait to see you walk down the aisle in it.

Ben had been adhering to the number one wedding rule all day: Never see the bride before she walks down the aisle. With the jumble of clothes in his arms he manages to drop the wedding veil and dress to the floor outside of the bedroom. You sit behind the door still taped up and locked to the bedframe, safe so that Ben would be able to get things ready. He hadn’t told you that today was your wedding, but he’s excited to surprise you. He rushes down stairs into the bathroom he leaves you in when he works and strips down to nothing in order to put the suit on. By the time he’s finished he feels like an overgrown idiot.

The white shirt goes up to his elbows and he’s unable to button the entire thing up, unable to button the cufflinks either. The bottom of the shirt hangs just below his belly button, but luckily no one would be able to see because the suit jacket fits him just a bit better. It’s tight in his back, but he realizes he won’t have to wear it for very long. The pants are what gets him though. They go so far above his ankles when he has them pulled up as far as they can go, right below his hips. They look like high waders, just without the boots. He can hear some of the strands ripping in the thighs, and he feels incredibly silly. But he wants to do this for you. He wants to make this the most special day of your life, and if that means he’s going to be uncomfortable then so be it.

The knock on the door comes at exactly 8 AM, just when he planned on meeting the ex-judge. It’s too uncomfortable for him to sit down, so he ended up leaning on the counter and drinking his apple juice to pass the time. He leaps up and waddles to the front door, slipping on the dress shoes that did fit him. He opens the door and is met with the three people he expected, but what he didn’t expect was for them to look him up and down and start to snicker at his suit.

“Fine choice of clothing.” The rotund man in the middle says. All three are dressed in grey suits similar to his, only difference was theirs fit just as they were supposed to. Ben steps aside and ignores the men’s quiet laughter. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was he was officially marrying you today. He’s never seen these three people ever again.

“She’s upstairs in the bedroom. Can you get her dressed and walk her down? She’s going to try to run away but I don’t want to see her before we get married.” The judge had finally stopped laughing at him and had made himself comfortable on the couch, but he didn’t seem to care much about what Ben was saying.

“A traditionalist, I see.” He says as he pulls out his phone and starts typing. “Rodrick can do it.” 

“The hell?” One of the men says, walking around the couch and looking at him like he had lost his mind. 

“This is what you get paid to do. Go get the woman dressed. Clearly her husband to be is a man of tradition.” Ben smiles as the ex-judge smiles at him. Ben was a man of tradition. He loved the sound of that. The other man, Rodrick, huffs as he steps out of the living room and toward the stairs. Ben realizes he probably doesn’t know where he’s going.

“I can show you.” Ben waddles uncomfortably after him, reaching into the tight pocket of his pants for the key to your collar. “Oh, and please give her these to hold.” Ben leans stiffly over to the small table in the entryway and picks up the now brown and wilting dahlias he had given to you so long ago; still wrapped up in the parchment paper he took from work. Rodrick looks down at the sad flowers in Ben’s hand and sneers at him, but Ben pushes the flowers toward him. He’s persistent. Ben is a man of tradition. His bride must carry a bouquet of flowers down his makeshift aisle. When the man finally snatches the flowers from Ben’s hand and turns to head up the stairs, Ben lets go of a strained breath he had been holding for quite some time. 

He quickly follows Rodrick up the stairs, and with each step he can feel the tight pants stretching to their limit. By the time he makes it to the top of the stairs he’s winded, staring down at the dress on the floor and holding back the need to cry the happiest of tears. It’s finally struck him that today, eleven days after moving in with you, he’s getting married. 

“She’s in this room. Please be gentle with her, she’s very fragile .” He warns the man as he picks up the dress and hands it to him, but Rodrick looks unamused. “Here, you’ll need to unlock her leash from the bed. Just make sure she doesn’t get away from you.” Ben reluctantly hands over the key to Rodrick, and he struggles to carry everything Ben has handed him. He doesn’t say anything, just enters the room and Ben’s optimistic mood immediately goes south. He’s nervous about you being alone with another man. What if he tries to touch you, or hurts you, or even kills you? His teeth clatter as he realizes he might have made a huge mistake for his family. 

He listens from outside the door as Rodrick’s footsteps fade away from him, and he jumps when your voice suddenly comes through loud and clear from the other side of the door.


“Are you the police? Oh my god, thank you! Please help me get out of--”


You don’t get to speak very long before Rodrick was speaking in your place. 


“Save that bullshit. I’m being paid to not care.”


Ben closes his eyes and silently sighs in relief as the sounds of your whimpers come through the door. He wasn’t sure why Rodrick took your duct tape off, but as long as you and your child were safe, Ben didn’t matter what he did to you. 


Please, you have to help me!


You whined, but Rodrick only told you to ‘shut the fuck up and put on the dress.’ Truth be told, Ben felt horrible for you in that moment. You were with a stranger, you were begging them for help that you weren’t getting. He knew you wanted him, he knew you needed him and his familiarity. But he couldn’t help you, because he was a man of tradition. As he turns to step down the stairs he hears you shriek at the top of your lungs, mentioning something about your wedding dress. Ben’s heart once again soars in his chest because he takes it as excitement for your wedding. 


He hurries back down the stairs where he takes his spot at the makeshift altar. The judge still sits on the couch mindlessly playing with his phone while the other witness leans against the wall next to the glass cabinet your family treasures sat in, seemingly the opposite of Ben who is more nervous than he ever had been in his life. In his pocket he fidgets with the thirty dollar wedding rings he bought with borrowed money from a friend from Amazon. He didn’t know of any children he could use to be the ring bearer so he would just have to do the deed himself. A last minute thought flies through his mind as he tries to once again adjust himself so that he’s comfortable in your late husband’s clothing: He should have invited his mother.

He’s drawn by the sound of a door opening from upstairs, accompanied by your shrieks and pleading to be freed. It’s time. His hands fly from his pockets and seize his phone, trembling fingers tap the play button and soon the traditional organ music fills the air. Ben’s eyes go from the entryway to the ex-judge who was peering curiously over his phone at him. “Never seen someone go through all this work before for an illegal wedding.” He says casually. Ben can’t focus on anything other than the sound of your footsteps thumping down the stairs. 

“I, I really love her. I don’t think she understands, but I want her to know how much I love her and this was the only way.” He explains, then finds the courage to look at him. “Could you please stand here at this altar? I’m a...a traditional man. I want this to be like a real wedding.” Ben sheepishly brings forth his concerns only to have the man laugh at him.

The man grunts as he stands to his feet and waddles over to the other side of the chairs next to him. “I usually just show up to sign the papers, this is a first for me.” He smiles at Ben, but as always Ben’s nerves prevent him from smiling back. The sound of you and Rodrick stepping down from the landing and rounding the corner to the entryway draws his attention from the man, and what he sees standing there staring at him in drop-dead fear almost brings him to his knees. 

It’s you. It’s you in your white, fluffy wedding dress with a tight hold on the bouquet of dahlias close to your chest. Rodrick made sure to put the veil over your face and he left the collar and leash on. Although he could have gone without the leash and collar for his wedding, Ben is still knocked breathless as Rodrick starts dragging you down the aisle toward him. Both of you slip every few steps on the blankets and towels that are not secured very well to the floor, but it’s the last thing on Ben’s mind. He can’t focus on anything except for you, and in that moment he’s not in his living room with three strangers. He’s in a church filled to the top with your relatives and his, standing next to a priest who is beaming happily at him for his achievements. The man walking you down the aisle is your father, and instead of a look of horror he sees one of excitement to begin this new chapter of your life with him. His delusions are too strong to ignore, and soon Ben has tears dripping down his face one by one. 

Rodrick walks you up to the altar and you stand there in front of Ben, the leash held tightly in his hand so you couldn’t run away. Ben looks at your shaking body and your clattering teeth and can only assume that you’re nervous just as he is. It brings such joy to his heart, and all thoughts escape his mind. He had this routine down at one point, but right now the only thing he wants to do is see your face uncovered. He lifts his hands and grasps the veil with his nervous fingers, flips it over your head to reveal your reddened, tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. You had been crying joyous tears just as he had. In his mind, you were meant for each other.

The one thing Ben hadn’t forgotten was his vows that he had strung together from Google, but just as he’s about to recite them you start talking, something he didn’t expect you to do. “Where did you get that suit?” You whisper, your eyes sweeping over the suit that hardly fit him.

“It’s not important, sweetheart.” Ben says as he shifts uncomfortably. He knew you were smart and that you would catch on sooner or later. He just wished it could have been after the wedding. He opens his mouth to say his vows once again, but you cut him off with a blood-curdling scream.

“It’s his suit!” You shout, throwing the flowers square into his chest. “You’re wearing Shane’s suit! That’s his suit!” Ben blinks and soon you’re at his breast bone, tearing the suit jacket and shirt open and revealing the white shirt underneath of it and how it fit him so comically. “Take it off you monster! You disgusting bastard!” You bellow, but luckily for Ben Rodrick pulls you off of him. 

“You said it was the suit you married your husband in, and I wanted it to still be that!” Ben says as he buttons the suit jacket up again. When he looks back up you’ve fallen to your knees in front of him, bawling into the floor as if you were being killed. It’s completely ruined the mood for Ben, but he’s determined to say these vows even if you weren’t going to be a willing participant in your own wedding.

“Let’s speed this along.” The ex-judge says, looking at his watch. “I have another wedding to attend in a few hours.” Ben nods his head as he straightens his back and clears his throat, willing to read out every word of his vow even if he had to scream them over your cries.

“Sweetheart, my love for you is everlasting. I, I just want to write it in the sky. I love you, I love everything about you, and I can’t wait to see where I journey of love will take us. Our love is undying. It is eternal and it makes us eternal as well…”

“Stop it!” You scream as you fall to your hands and knees at his feet. “Stop this pain, please make it stop!” Now Ben takes a step back as you writhe in the emotional pain that he can’t see, but he treks on. He was doing this for you, not for himself, and he was determined to finish his vows for you.

“...We have a special and, miraculous, connection that no one can break no matter how hard they try. I promise to nourish you bodily, intellectually, and spiritually with my own spirit. Let what is bound today never be broken. Let the eternal be reflected in our matrimony.” He finishes as you wail on the floor in front of him. With that, his vows come to an end and there’s just one thing left to do.

The rings that he ordered were truly one of a kind. They’re silver on the outside and gold on the inside, with the words LOVE YOU FOREVER engraved on the inside. What really drew Ben in was the matching hearts that were engraved on the outside of the band; with his being black and yours being gold with small diamonds on the inside. He had never seen anything like them, and for $30 for two rings he thinks they’re a steal. When placed together the hearts lined up and it was a true testament to the love the two of you shared. He squats down slowly and picks your hand up, and even though you try hard to snatch it away from him he still fights you to place the ring on your finger. With that, Ben’s makeshift wedding comes to an end. The two of you were now joined legally and there would be nothing anyone could do to separate you two.

Chapter Text

As the dial tone rings in his ear, Ben is constantly replaying the final stages of his wedding ceremony in his mind. You refused to get up off the floor after he, the two witnesses, and the ex-judge signed the license, so once again Ben had to forge your signature. As you sobbed and writhed, begged for someone to please help you get out of your own house, the ex-judge promised Ben that he would have the licenses delivered within the next week. Ben smiled at the man and shook his hand before bidding him goodbye, and once everyone was gone and it was just you and him he finally turned to acknowledge you. He stood over your broken body, placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you onto your back.

The ghastly, pale, horrified face that stared back at him actually gave him chills. Your eyes were so bloodshot, your mouth hung open as if you were silently screaming at him for help. Ben didn’t understand. This was a strange way for you to be showing your happiness about your marriage. You looked and acted terrified of him, as if this was the end of the world for you. It hurt Ben’s heart, but he did have one thing up his sleeve that he knew would cheer you up. 

“Hi, mom.” Ben says after his mother answers the phone with a giddy ‘Ben, darling!’ A half-smile cracks over Ben’s face as he speaks to his mom for the first time in months. He misses her, he wants her to hold him and tell him that he’s doing everything right just like she used to when he was a child. She’s the first person that seems genuinely happy to hear from him in the last two weeks, and the acceptance she gives him after everything he’s had to go through almost brings tears to his eyes. 

“Oh, Ben. I’m so happy you’ve called. How are you, son?” His mother says happily, and Ben can almost see her smiling face in his mind.

“I’m okay, mom. I was just calling to tell you that I got married this morning.” An ominous silence comes through his phone as he leans against the back of his car, and for a moment he toys with the idea of telling her that he’s going to be a father as well. It dawns on him that his life is rushing past him, creating a blur in his eyes and he’s struggling to keep up with himself. He only just found out about his baby a few days ago and now here he was whisking you off on your honeymoon. He would need some time to play catch up, and he was hoping he could start by speaking to his mother.

“Married? Oh, Ben…” his mother retorts, suddenly sounding disappointed in him. Ben swallows as he shifts on his feet, his mind racing as he overthinks his mother’s confusing tone. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Dad and I could have made it to your ceremony.” He has to blink his tears back as he once again regrets not inviting the one other person he loved so much to his wedding. His mother deserved to be there to support him. Maybe if she were here he wouldn’t be sitting here in his garage doubting himself like he was now.

“No, mom. It’s alright. She and I just wanted to have something private. We didn’t have some big, huge thing.” He giggles nervously, trying to push the memories of you sitting on the ground crying your eyes out from his mind. Maybe his mother wouldn’t have understood. Maybe it was best that no one was there to witness it except for you and him. 

“How long have you known this girl, Benny?” His mother probes, and just like when he was questioned by his dad he begins to feel attacked. However, it’s his beloved mother. He feels he can’t go off on her like he did his father.

“Long enough, mom. We’ve been dating for a while now and just thought the time was right.” There’s silence on the other line, and then he hears his mother let out a hefty sigh.

“Well, your mother his happy for you son. I can’t believe my little boy is married.” His emotions shift once again, and he feels roses bloom in his cheeks. An almost embarrassed smile spreads across his face. For some reason, to hear his mother was proud of him was more of an accomplishment than to know the same about his father. He just loved his mother so much. “When do you think I can meet her? My new daughter in law. Oh my, this is so exciting!” His mother giggled, and Ben couldn’t help but to laugh along with her. You were his mother’s daughter in law. The words are sweet on his tongue as it only cements the fact that you were apart of his family now.

“I don’t know mom. She’s a very busy lady unfortunately.” He lies. Just like with his father he knows you’re not ready to meet his family. Although Ben isn’t fazed by your screams, tears, and escape attempts, he’s aware enough to know that not everyone would understand how badly he needs you. He knows you’d ask for help the minute you’d come in contact with his family, and Ben just couldn’t allow that. “But, the reason why I’m calling is because I want to take her to the boathouse in Bend for our honeymoon.” The fine hairs on his arms stand straight up as he thinks about how he’s going to spoil you on your honeymoon.

The boathouse in Bend Oregon was owned by his great-great parents and passed down within each generation. Currently his mother owned it, and everyone on her side of the family had access to it whenever they wanted to use it. Ben had such fond memories during the summertime when his family would make the long drive from Shelton Washington where he is originally from to Bend. His father taught him how to swim there on the water while his mother would sit in the rocking chair and observe from afar. They’d have picnics during the day and bonfires at night, and Ben would eat as many smores as his parents would allow him before they’d retire to the cabin for the night and his parents would tuck him into bed. His father even built a tire swing for him one year and he’d spent hours outside swinging on it. It was always the highlight of his summer, especially when all three of them would take a ride around the lake on his grandfather’s boat: The Vader. Ben had always loved the Bend Boathouse, but after his parent's divorce he had never gone back.

“Oh, Benny! That sounds like a wonderful getaway!” He could hear his own mother’s excitement and immediately felt validated in his own excitement. “As far as I know I don’t think uncle Luke and his family are up there. You’re free to head up there. You have the key right?”

“Yeah mom. It’s been on my keyring for years.” He holds his keys in his hand, thumbing through them until he found the old, discolored key to the cabin. 

“Okay, great. Yeah just remember to get food and toiletries and whatnot when you get there. Have fun, baby. I love you and I really hope I can meet my daughter in law soon.” His mother says to him. He leans up off of the car and starts to walk around to the driver’s side. He’s thankful that his mother reminded him about getting food--he almost forgot. 

“Will do, mom. I love you too.” With that, he hangs up and opens the door to his car. He looks back and takes stock of everything he brought with him in the car: His bag, check. Your bag, check. Bag with random tidbits such as toothbrushes, bed sheets, and pillows, check. He had everything he needed to spend a few days out of state with you, and he was ready to go. He starts the car, places his thumb on the button to open the garage door remotely when a jarring thought hits him: something isn’t right. 

He thinks long and hard about how everything is arranged, and comes to the realization that it was just too unsafe for you. He cuts the car off, hops out and then walks back to the truck of the car. He opens it and sees you absolutely sweltering in the heat, lying there on your side taped up just as he left you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He says as he reaches in and lifts you bridal style out of the trunk of his car. “All it would take is someone to rear-end me and you’d be gone.” You weren’t in there for very long, maybe just half an hour while he loaded up the car and talked to his mother, but your clothing was dampened with sweat. As usual you had been crying, but Ben counted it as a success that your tape was still in place on your mouth, wrists, and ankles. He also was thankful that he was able to steal a brand new roll of duct tape from work, since the one he found at your house was completely out by now.

He manages to open the front passenger door while holding you and gently sets you down on the floor. You stare at him with your terror-filled eyes. Once again he’s keeping you out of the loop in order to surprise you, and he’s so used to your fear by now that he doesn’t feel the need to worry about you. He stares at you for a moment and wonders if anyone would be able to see you from the road. He doesn’t think it’s possible, but he doesn’t want to take the chance. With the door still wide open he leans over and opens the rear passenger side door and retrieves his backpack and places it into your lap, then goes on to pile your backpack onto you and places the remaining bag on the seat. “There,” he says, standing back and trying to observe you from afar, but he can only see the top of your head. 

But he still thinks it’s unfair. You were likely going to still be hot and it would still be unsafe for you if he were to be in an accident. The least he could do was try and make you comfortable. He moved some of the bags aside until he revealed your pink, heat stained cheeks and ripped the duct tape off. “Talk and scream all you want, sweetheart. At least no one will be able to see you.” He said offhandedly. With a smug, content smile he once again piled the bags upon you and shut the door. Now was officially the start of his honeymoon, his very first family vacation.


It was a five, almost six, hour drive to the Bend boathouse, and most of it was spent accelerating his car down Interstate 5. Just as Ben thought, you sat back on the floor of his car quietly. You didn’t move, you didn’t say anything, just did nothing as he kindly asked you to. He had already been driving for two hours and twenty minutes, there wasn’t much longer to go now.

Ben’s taste in music fluctuated between different genres, but from the one song he heard you singing on the day he moved in he knew you were fond of pop music at least some of the time. So he opted to keep the radio on his states most popular pop radio station. Songs from artists he had never heard of came through his speakers: Arianna Grande, Imagine Dragons, and Nick Jonas among others. It definitely wasn’t what Ben liked, but if it kept you relaxed then Ben would be willing to keep them on for you. 

The car ride was going so smoothly, and Ben was in mid-thought wondering what he’d cook for dinner when you finally drew some attention to yourself:

“You’re gonna kill me.” You said in a near whisper, only to have your voice break out into a sob. “You’re taking me somewhere far away so you can kill me!” Ben thought it was cute, couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he reached down and blindly searched for your head to pat. 

“No no, Sweetheart.” He cooed, trying to calm you down. His massive hands finally came in contact with your sweaty hair and he rubbed your head back and forth, rattling your skull against the glove box in an obscure way of comforting you. “I couldn’t kill you, unless I was also going to end my life as well.” He tries to laugh the dreary statement off, but the fact still remained; if he didn’t have you, there was no way he’d be able to survive. 

“I don’t want to die, Ben.” You moaned, leaning your head out of his grip and against his backpack. “Please, you can’t kill me. You just can’t!” Your sobs brought him down, and truthfully Ben was hurt over the fact that you didn’t trust him when he said he wasn’t going to kill you. When had he ever tried to kill you? Why would you think he was going to end your life? Ben’s mind drifts from fairly happy thoughts about revisiting the Bend boathouse to those of anguish and frustration at your tears. Again, he wonders why. Why won’t you trust him? Why do you cry so much? Why can’t you just accept him as your husband and move on? His hands tighten around the steering wheel just as he passes a sign on the interstate that reads 100 miles to Portland. He tries to think positive while you were obviously thinking negative. Family vacation. He and his wife and newly conceived child were about to have their first family vacation. 


It’s just about 3 PM when Ben finally pulls up in front of the old, log cabin that was surrounded by overgrown trees and weeds. It didn’t seem like his mother or uncle had been maintaining the property over the last few years, or at least sending someone else out to do so. It makes Ben sad as he finally puts the car in park among the dirt and gravel that had always existed. The crunching noise makes goosebumps break out over his skin as he reminisces being a young child and throwing the door open to go jump right into the lake. He takes a look over your head and out into the lake where the sun shines so brightly off the muggy water. A thin layer of moss rests on the top of the lake closest to the boathouse deck, but that doesn’t stop Ben’s memories from running wild inside of his mind. “Oh, sweetheart.” Ben breathes as his eyes sweep over his favorite childhood memory. “I’m so happy I’m able to share this with you.”

Ben is exhausted. As he stands up out of the car he wobbles a bit from having his legs in a fixed position for the last five hours and forty minutes. The muggy, natural air fills his nostrils and he’s immediately put at rest. This was like his safe haven, and the moment he wondered if it would be a better decision to simply move his family here instead of in the city. Here where he’d have peace and quiet, here where he would never have to duct tape your mouth because there was no one around to hear you scream. It seems like the perfect plan, so perfect in fact that he almost forgot about how badly he wanted to share this moment with you.

He awkwardly speed walks over to the passenger side of his car where he throws the door open and starts to take the bags off of you. “We’re here!” He says gleefully, and when your body is finally unearthed he wastes no time in undoing your restraints. “We’re spending our honeymoon here. My parents used to take me here when I was a child, I thought it was the perfect place to go as a family.” Ben takes your arm and helps you to your feet, just as he did you wobble just a little as you take in your surroundings.

“Where are we?” You ask as you look over the lake. Your face goes completely pale and under his arm you start shaking. Ben knows you’re scared and he knows you still think he’s going to kill you. He had to distract you, to prove once and for all that he only has what’s best for you on his mind. He looks up to the tree his father hung his tire swing on many many years ago and grows giddy once again.

“We’re in Oregon.” Ben says as quickly as he can. He doesn’t want to ignore you and make you more nervous than you currently were, but he really wants to show you his tire swing. “Look over here!” He says as he ushers you over to the tree. He doesn’t see it at first, but when he does his mood instantly tanks. The tire and sturdy rope both sit in the overgrown grass, with the branch that they were secured to not too far off. The smile fades from his face as the two of you stand directly in front of it. It was sad, like an important piece of him had snapped, fallen, and became overgrown with weeds along with his swing. 

“This was one of my favorite parts of the boathouse.” Ben says with a hefty sigh. “My dad built this for me, and I swung on it every summer.” His words lingered in the air while you fidgeted, seemingly trying to get away from him and his destroyed childhood. Ben notices this and decides he’s being too negative. This was a positive experience, and he was determined to have a good time. “But that’s alright. I think I can hang another one.” He looks up into the tree and sees a few branches that looked to be viable before pulling you back into him. When he looks back down at you he’s sporting a hopeful grin. “You know, for when ours grows up?” He places his hand on your belly and once again imagines his child swimming up to his hand. 

Ben watches as you painfully cringe and try and turn away from him, but he holds you close. “How are you feeling, by the way? I’m sorry I haven’t thought more about how you feel about your pregnancy.” Ben says, desperately trying to flip the conversation into something more reasonable. You don’t look at him in the eye. You don’t say or do anything except shake your head and start crying once again. Ben feels awful that he’s triggered a mood swing within you and made you cry again. This was not going according to plan. “Come on, sweetheart.” He says as he holds you close to him, trying to comfort you while leading you toward the cabin. “Let me show you around.”

With your leash in one hand and the key to the cabin in the other, Ben has to fight with the door in order to open it. He leans against the door as he pushes with all of his might, but eventually the door gives way.

The cabin is dark. Dust is easy to see floating in the beams of sunlight coming from the door, and the entire places smells old and unused to Ben. “Guess my family really hasn’t been keeping up with this place.” Ben says as he ushers you inside. The floorboards creak as he leads you in, and he feels like he’s finally where he needs to be. Out here. Alone. Just you, him, and his baby. He lets his guard down as he leads you to the sofas that are covered in the white tarps his family had left on so many years ago, and when he pulls it off he unleashes a mountain of dust that he wasn’t paying attention to.

You start to cough and sneeze, looking away just as Ben did and he tightens his grip on you so you can’t get away. Oregon was a big, unfamiliar place. If you got away from him here Ben was sure he’d never get you back. 

“Here, have a seat, sweetheart.” Ben says as he covers his mouth with his arm, trying to calm his coughing fit. “I need to get the water and AC going, and the electricity.” He looks around for something he can tie your leash to, and just barely comes up short until his eyes lay on the bar holding up the curtains above the window. It’s the only thing he has at his disposal, so it will have to do.

He drops your leash for one moment and moves to the back of the couch, pushing it until it was fully up against the wall. You flinched as soon as the couch moved, and moved your legs out of the way just fast enough before they got crushed between the couch and the wall. The leash was just long enough. Ben was able to knot the leash around the pole, and although it wasn’t the sturdiest fixture, he trusted that, by now, you would at least trust him enough to not run away. As far as he knew, you knew no one in Oregon and no one in Oregon knew you. You could get away, but you’d have nowhere to go. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Ben said as he leaned down and kissed your cheek. He took in the awkward position you were in and felt a bit guilty. You were sitting on your knees as straight as you could keep your back. He was thankful that he left no room between the pole and the floor; it would seem if the leash were any shorter you’d run the risk of hanging yourself. “I’m gonna go work on the electricity. If you need anything just holler for me, okay?” Your eyes flashed momentarily to the window before looking back at him and nodding. He was content. At least you were alone out here and could look out the window for entertainment because no one would walk by and recognize you.


Ben goes to work on bringing the cabin to life. He only planned on staying up here for a few days, maybe a week at most. And in that week he would have to be able to stay cool, cook, and clean. He remembered his father showing him how to do this long, long ago, but understandably he was having a hard time. There was a generator outside of the cabin that he thought he remembered having to mess with, but after 20 minutes and three failed google searches later he was still unsuccessful in turning on the power. He stood to his feet again and scowled, maybe it would be best to call his father.

It was hot outside and he decided he needed a break anyway. It was still warm in the cabin, but at least the sun wouldn’t be beating down on him inside. With his tail tucked between his legs, he walked off onto the porch and back inside. As he stood in the kitchen dialing his father’s phone number he realized that there was a strange tapping noise coming from the living room. His brows knit down and he looked up from his phone; this was odd. He thought for a moment that it was the cabin starting to receive electricity, but when he switched on the kitchen light nothing happened. He was stumped, and the only thing he had left to do was go investigate the noise.

He trudged into the living room only to be horrified by what he was seeing. You were standing up on the couch, leaning into the window and knocking on it like you were trying to get someone’s attention. He was confused, who would be out here on his families private property like this? A high pitch whine came from your mouth before you uttered a near silent “help me,” and Ben knew he was in trouble. Just as you started to wave to whoever it was you were trying to contact Ben took an unapologetically loud step toward you, causing you to jump and fall to your knees again.

“What are you doing?!” Ben cried, pushing you out of the way and stretching the leash far beyond its limits. He wasn’t focused on you as much as he was on the person who was outside. He thought it was an intruder, someone he didn’t know, or god forbid the police looking for you. He leaned against the back of the couch and peered through the glass only for his heart to come to a complete standstill. He knew the person who was standing in the driveway of his family cabin. It was his mother, and she was simply sitting there waving back at you as if Ben had invited her here to celebrate his wedding here with him.

Chapter Text

Ben’s mind is running too fast for him to think on just one thing. Why was his mother here? What was she going to do? What was she thinking and, most importantly, how would he get her to go away? He frantically fishes in his pocket for the key, and whispers the word ‘fuck’ from between his teeth as he watched his mother walk out of his field of vision to the door. He knew she had a key to the cabin, so if he didn’t answer the door fast enough she could just let herself in. Ben had to think and he had to think fast. 

You were scrambling to stand back up on your knees. Ben didn’t take the time to think about what would happen to you when he knocked you over. He couldn’t hear the sound of your choking and gasping for breath and wasn’t even paying attention to you until he got the key from his pocket and started moving toward the end of the leash that was locked around the curtain bar. 

“No! Stop!” You shouted, suddenly jumping toward your feet and grasping at the key in his hand. Much to his horror you did manage to get ahold of the key, and you were fighting to free it from his fingers. “Ben, give it to me!” You shriek, and it only angers him further.

“Let go of it!” Ben roars at you, and with one absurdly jerky movement that sends you reeling to the end of the couch Ben manages to free the key from your hands. There was just one issue: the key had gone flying from his hands as well. 

With you straining against your collar and the key nowhere to be found, Ben feels as if he’s hit an all time low. The knock at the door coupled with your frantic scrambling to get back to your knees only fuels his hysteria. His first instinct is to lash out, to become angry, as ever since he pulled up to what he wanted to be a relaxing honeymoon getaway nothing had gone right. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t right. Things were spiraling out of his control and every passing second Ben’s anxiety and intense fear was crippling him more and more. 

“Ben please!” You shout, bringing him out of his shocked state of mind once and for all. He had never seen you cry this hard, had never seen you face so red as you stood up to your feet on the couch. “Just let me go! Just let her take me away!” The deafening ringing in his ears subsides long enough for him to gain some clarity. You had grabbed the key because you wanted him to drop it. You wanted to get away from him. You wanted his mom to take you away from him. And if there was one thing Ben was absolutely sure of, it was that he would never allow that would happen.

In the blink of an eye, Ben’s mind snaps back to where it needs to be. The door knocks again just as he encircles your waist, and with all of his might Ben lifts you over the couch and pulls you away from the window. You let out a pained screech, one that sends shivers up Ben’s spine but he has no other choice. He watches as the collar around your neck presses into the back of your neck, blanching your skin in some areas and reddening others. He doesn’t know if he’s waiting for the window to break, the leash, or the collar, but he knows one of them has to give. He’s sweating as he sets you down after the muscles in his arms grow tired, and he watches as you let out an eardrum piercing scream and scramble back to your knees away from him.

“Benny? It’s your mother.” He hears his mom call out from the other side of the door. He grinds his teeth as he yanks on you again, trying to juggle you in his arms and move his hands to your mouth to try and silence your screams and sobs. It’s too stressful of a situation for him, and just when he feels like he’s going to pass out from the fear he’s experiencing his luck finally finds him. Instead of your collar or leash breaking like he feared most, the sound of sturdy metal clanking against glass drew his attention upward and the tension on your leash finally released. The bar was now resting on the couch and you had been freed for the time being. 

Ben moans amidst your thrashing and disappointed tears, and he wastes no time in turning and running as fast as his body would allow him to the back of the cabin. “Just a minute mom!” He called as you kicked, bit, and fought your way out of his arms. You landed on your tailbone with a bone-shattering thud, leaning forward and trying your hardest to crawl away from him. But if Ben was anything, he was determined. He was determined to get you into the bathroom attached to the big room he was planning on sharing with you. 

“Cooperate!” Ben said between his teeth. He was nearly begging you as he dragged your body down the hall, desperate for you to listen to him this one time. He couldn’t imagine that his mother couldn’t have heard your pleading, your screams for mercy and he was sure she had seen the bar fall in the window. He knew he was in trouble if he wasn’t able to talk his way out of this, but first he had to hide you. If his mother saw you in this kind of state she would lose her mind.

Ben drags your unwilling body as ungracefully as anyone could, the window bar and curtain being dragged along with you, and when he finally made it to the bathroom he realized he was at yet another loss. 

Ben expected to be completely alone out here in the boathouse. He wanted to let you scream as loud as you could to prove no one would hear you, so he didn’t pack any duct tape. He runs his hand down his face, more than frustrated as you still try and wiggle away from him. At this point he was seconds away from tears, seconds away from losing control of his anger and taking it out on you to stop your foolishness. He’s shaking as he takes a frantic look around, and when he spies a set of towels and washcloths that had been left out from the last time anyone was here, he comes to terms with the fact that this was his only option.

His hand leaves you for less than half a second as he snatches the washcloth off of the rack. He doesn’t take the time to investigate the cloth, to snap it free from the dirt and dust before wrapping it around his fingers and shoving it in between your teeth. He expects the thrashing, the gagging, and the attempt to stop him, but he powers through your insubordination. He’s surprised at the strength of your tongue. The way you’re able to push against his fingers and fight him off every time he shoves them further down your throat would have impressed him had this not been a life or death situation. He’s able to win this battle, just like all the others, this time. When he can’t feel the cloth coming back up your throat he finally removes his fingers and takes a good look at you. You’re heaving, your face is red and wet, and for a moment he worries about you. Can you breathe? He’s never done anything like this before and he doesn’t know if it’s safe to leave you like this. The cloth isn’t visible at all, and as you claw at your mouth trying to get it out Ben gets himself together. He drops his fingers to your nose and lets out a massive sigh of relief as he feels air coming from your nostrils. You’re breathing, that’s all he needed. 

But it still wasn’t enough. 

It would be easy enough for you to reach into your mouth and pull the gag out. He had to bind your hands too. He doesn’t know how much time has past and he doesn’t think he has much left. The only thing he can think to use is one of the facial towels that hung next to the washcloth. With slippery, sweaty hands he brings your wrists together and starts wrapping the white towel around them. The short, fleshy sporadic choking sounds that come from behind the cloth in your mouth aren’t enough to stop him. After he’s tied the towel as tight as he can around your wrists he once again lifts his fingers to your nose to check your breathing. When he confirms that you are, indeed, still alive, he snatched up the leash and began wrapping it around your legs as a last resort. He didn’t plan on having to keep you tied up like this for very long, but while you were he wanted to be sure you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere. 

Once he’s done wrapping the leash tight around your legs, he stands up and admires his handiwork. Every inch of your skin is red. Your cheeks are stuffed full of the washcloth and you look pitiful. Ben is far too delusional to realize that leaving you like this could kill you. To him, this was the only way he could find peace. He doesn’t take any second thoughts once he thinks you’re unable to go anywhere. He turns, slams the door in his wake and sprints down the hall where he stops at the door, throws it open, and stands toe to toe with his mother.

“Benny!” She says happily, and suddenly Ben is overcome with emotion.

“Mommy!” He says in his deep, baritone, manly voice. It feels as if all of his worries fall right off his shoulders as he collapses into his mother's arms. He’s so much taller than she is, and he feels like he just barely fits in her embrace, but it doesn't stop him from tightening his arms around her and holding on like he was going to lose her. 

“Oh, Ben,” She moans in his ear. Just the sound of her voice is enough to ease some of his nerves about you being in the bathroom all by yourself. “When was the last time you even hugged your old mother?” She rubs her hands up and down his back and begins to hum a familiar, comforting tune in his ear. He can’t let her go. It had been almost two years since he had seen his mother, and as her hands travel up his back, over his shoulders, up his neck and gently tugged him from her shoulders, he wonders if, even for just this moment, he loved her more than he did you.

He does as his mother wants and lifts his head from her, loosening his arms and resting them on her hips. Her smile is everything he’s needed. He hasn’t told her anything about his personal life, and yet he knows she’ll understand. “I know your father always told you not to cry, but you know I never believed in that.” Ben is momentarily confused. He wasn’t crying, or at least he didn’t think he was until his mother lifted a thumb to his cheek and wiped away a stray tear. It was true that his father often didn’t want him to cry as young as eight or nine, but he just felt so safe with his mother. Safe enough to drop his guard and allow his mother to comfort him when he needed it the most. 

“I just missed you, mom.” Ben croaks, the lump in his throat growing quite painful. 

“I know, son. And I’ve missed you too.” His mother pulls him back in for another hug, and this time Ben can’t help but to sob. He’s shaking uncontrollably, he’s letting out every grievance he’s had during these last weeks through his tears, and his mother stands there and accepts it all from his shoulders. “There, there.” She coos, holding him close to her and rubbing his back. “Let it all out, baby. Your mother is here, she’ll take care of you.” He squeezes her tight, ruts his head against her shoulder as he accepts that what he needed was her. It was like they were telepathically connected, and when he needed his mother the most she showed up. Protection. Comfort. Care. Everything he needed came walking up to him. He had been so busy being the backbone of his relationship. He cooked. He cleaned. He worked. He took care of you, made sure you were fed, cleaned, clothed, and he barely took the time to take care of himself. That’s where his mother came in, and he just had to accept her help and find a way to make you work with it. 

“Thank you, mom.” He says as he calms himself. Once he lets out the last of his tears, he feels comfortable leaning away from her. His mother still stands there giving him a reassuring, nonjudgemental smile, and when her hands finally fall from his body he lets her into the cabin. She looks down as she steps over the threshold and into the dark, quiet cabin. It’s then that Ben begins to wonder if he could convince her to move in with him and his wife.

“So, where is my new daughter in law?” She asks, and the emotional high Ben had been on immediately comes crashing down on him. For a moment he thinks about telling the truth, about how you’d never once cooperated with him and about how he had to tie you up, but he didn’t think he could trust her with that much information. 

“She, she um…” He blinks as he remembers he never turned on the shower, so he couldn’t use that same lie like he did with his father. “She went to the bathroom. She’ll be out in a minute.” His tone is elongated and unsure. He turns down the hall and looks at the dark bedroom. His anxiety rushes back to him as he thinks about you being locked away in the dark. You were probably afraid. You probably missed him. You probably needed him. 

“Ah, I see.” His mother says as she takes a look at the couch. “I saw her waving at me in the window, it looked like you had hugged her before I walked up the steps.” He watches as her face contort in confusion, but before he can answer her with another lie he had thought of off the top of his head, she pries a little too far for Ben’s comfort. “Where have the curtains--” 

“She got scared.” Ben says quicker and louder than his mother speaks. “She saw a spider, and she’s deathly afraid of bugs. She has a, a, a phobia. You know, an irrational fear?” His mother flinches as he raises his voice at her, but doesn’t say anything as if she’s waiting for even more of an explanation. He plays with his fingers nervously, swallowing yet another lump in his throat as he fears his mother doesn’t believe him. “So I had to take her to the bathroom. To, to um, calm down.” His mother hums in reply, looks away from him and moves to one of the uncovered couches. 

“Oh, well I’m sorry about that, Benny.” He relaxes a little bit as his mother sweeps some dust off of the couch and sits down, crossing her legs and clutching her purse to her side. “Well there’s no rush. She can take as long as she needs to come out and meet me.” Ben shifts from foot to foot as he toys with the idea of his mom staying again. Could he trust you around strangers now? Should he tell his mother to leave so he could enjoy some alone time with you? And probably the thing that was bugging him the most: why had his mother showed up here in the first place?

“Have you gotten the electricity on yet?” His mother interrupts his internal monologue to something he probably should have been more worried about. 

“Oh, no. I was just about to call dad when--”

Ben’s speech is suddenly cut off by the sound of a shrill, soul-crushing scream that comes from the back of the cabin. Ben outwardly cringes as his mother’s gasp, and his feet can’t move fast enough to put an end to the situation. “Oh my. Is everything okay? His mother asks, but Ben is already partway down the hall. 

“Yeah, everything is fine. I thought I got all of the spiders out of the bathroom but I guess I didn’t.” He shouted over a frantic ' help me' coming from the bathroom. 

“Well do you want me to come help--”

No mom!” Ben says with violence in his voice; violence that he didn’t mean to portray to his own mother. “I’ve got it. I’ll be out in a minute!” He cries. He doesn’t have the time to worry about how he’s clearly hurt his beloved mother’s feelings. He just has to stop you from screaming. The closer he gets to the master bedroom, the louder he can hear you scream. He even hears you banging against the door as you plead for help, and the moment he throws the door open he’s seeing red. 

The towel he wrapped around your wrists was undone and sitting in the corner, as was the washcloth he gagged you with. The leash was still wrapped around your legs, but it was clear it had been loosened like you had tried to pull them off. Ben was livid, and he can see the fear in your eyes as he sinks to his knees behind you. 

“Get away from me!” You shout and scream as loud as you could, using your arms to drag your useless legs behind you as you crawl further into the bathroom. With all of his rage centered on you and only you, he takes you by the neck and leans your back into him. He brings his arms around your neck and presses your forearms into your throat, once again choking you and stopping your screaming. 

“Stop fucking screaming!” Ben strains his whispers into your ear. With your arms free you clamor to pull him off of you, you throw your head back until he immobilizes you and you kick as best as you can, but in the end Ben is the one with the power. “My mom is out there, you can’t just scream like that!” He wishes he could start screaming himself, wishes he could stand up and destroy this whole place. He was afraid, he was angry, he was confused, and he was unsure. But, he knew he had to keep it together. 

He closes his eyes and holds you there against him, pressing his elbow into your throat until you stop moving. Once he’s sure you’ve been calmed he lets go, watches as you slide out of his lap and onto the bathroom floor. He sits and waits for you to do something, but you sit there and do nothing. He leans over you, and just as his anxiety skyrockets you take in a deep breath, your eyes fly open and you’re once again brought back to life before him. He hadn’t killed you, but he did calm you down like he wanted.

“Listen, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy to be back here, but I really don’t want you screaming and making my mom nervous.” The fear is easily reflected from your eyes into his, and for the first time since he got here Ben really doesn’t know what he should do. He couldn’t just shove the gag back into your mouth again, he didn’t have any duct tape and he had no other options. You sit there trembling before him. He could barely see you in the dark bathroom but he knew you were there. As he goes through every ill-thought idea in his mind to get past this, only one stick out. Only one seems plausible, and he doesn’t even know how plausible it was. Ben closes his eyes as he reaches into his mind for any other options, any other ones at all. But he comes up short. He gulps as he leans over to you, takes your cheeks in his hands and puts all of his trust in you. He has no other choice than to talk you into this, and he could only hope that you would understand.

“I, I know you don’t like being tied up. Okay? I get it. So I’m going to give you a compromise.” He sees your eyes widen and he knows he has your attention. He smiles when he realizes this is going better than expected already. “If you can go out there, spend time with my mom and don’t cause any issues, then I’ll take off the collar and leash.” He hears you gasp, feels you jump in his hands and can only assume that you’re excited.

“But, but how? We lost the key.” You stutter, and Ben bites back the urge to roll his eyes.

“I can find it. But I’ll only take it off if you promise me that you’ll behave. Don’t scare my mom, she’s very…” He trails off, trying to think of a lie to get you to comply with him. “... fragile.” He feels terribly lying to you of all people, but he has no other choice. 

“You’ll find the key and you’ll take off my collar?” You say, whining and adjusting yourself on the floor. 

“I already told you, yes.” Ben says, peering over his shoulder to make sure his mother hadn’t been standing there. He’s irritable, but he’s already come to the conclusion that you’d comply with him.

“Then I’ll do it.” You say confidently, trying to pull your face from his hands. Ben pulls you back and leans in even closer this time, he wants to hear you say it.

“You’ll do what?” He asks, his voice full of authority. 

“I’ll sit with your mom and I won’t cause any problems.” Ben smiles at your obedience. Maybe he can start trusting you a bit more. 

“Okay, sweetheart.” Ben says, sitting up a bit more and bringing you with him. “Stay back here quietly, I’ll go find the key.” He assures you before leaning in and kissing you lightly on your lips. When he feels he’s spent enough time back here he stands, nervously steps out of the bathroom where he quietly closes the door behind him. He takes a deep breath, rubs his eyes and tries to downplay his nervousness before taking a few long strides out of the bedroom and into the hall. 

He holds his breath as he focuses on nothing but the now bare window sitting across from his mother, but he’s hardly surprised when his mother starts speaking to him. “Is everything okay?” She asks, piercing the silence that he had found so much solace in just seconds before.

“Yeah.” Ben breathes, gripping the back of the uncovered couch and pulling it away from the wall. 

“Do you need me to--”

“No, mom.” Ben cuts her off. He didn’t need her to do anything for him. “She just wants me to find something she dropped. Then she’ll come out in a minute.” His mother doesn’t say anything in reply, and Ben takes it as his que to start his search. He leans over the couch and counts himself extremely lucky when he sees the key sparkling in the light. “Found it.” He says, but he gets no response. He pulls the couch out a bit further and takes the time to walk around it, bend down and takes it into his hand. When he stands back up he sees his mother looking at him with a concerned frown. He smiles at her, before skittering out from in front of the window and speed walking down the hall. He knows she’s worried about him, and he knows she wants answers. He can only get her those answers, though, when he is able to show his wife off to her. 

“Be right back.” He says in a whisper as he speedwalks down the hall, into the bedroom and into the bathroom. He’s shocked to find you still sitting there waiting for him. 

“Did you find the key?” You ask him, a little too enthusiastic. He half expected you to stand up and hop away from him, out the window and into the woods. But no, just as he trusted you to do you were still sitting here waiting for him. A proud smile decorates his face as he bends over and feels for your collar, looking for the lock that kept it together.

“Yes, I did.” Ben says, and when he finally found the lock he nervously inserts the key. He takes a minute before turning it and releasing it from your neck. Did he really want to be doing this? In the time he had been living with you he had never awarded you this much freedom. 

“Oh, good.” You retort, sounding even more unsure than he was.

“Re, remember what I said, sweetheart.” Ben says as he finally drums up the courage to twist the key. In an instant the collar opens and falls into his hand. “If you try anything funny, I promise you’re going to regret it.” The threat was an empty one. He really had no way of punishing you other than spanking, and he had vowed he would never do that to you again.

“Of course, Ben.” You say to him, then he grabs your hand. Together, the two of you stand to your feet and he drops your collar to the floor. Ben feels like he’s going to cry, and he’s not sure why. What if you ran away from him? What if you told his mother about everything he had done to you? He hates it, but he reminds himself that he has no other choice. 

“Are you ready to meet my mother?” He says to you, squeezing your hand tight. He can feel you shaking there next to him, knows that you’re just as nervous as he is about this new chapter of your life he’s opening for you. 

“Yeah.” You whisper, and he hears you sniff. You’re crying again, Ben doesn’t think his mother will take kindly to that. But that’s okay, because he can always lie for you like he had before. Ben nods his head, then turns from the bathroom. Hand in hand he walks you into the bedroom and down the hall, and when his mother hears the two of you coming she picks up her head. The bright, unbashful smile that grows on her face causes Ben to grow emotional again, and suddenly he remembers that he’s showing off his wife.

“Oh, Ben!” She shouts as the two of you set foot out into the living room. “She’s gorgeous!” Ben’s lip quivers as he realizes he’s made the right decision to bring you out, and when he looks over and sees you grinning at her he knows this is right where you belong.

Chapter Text

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m so sorry, dear.” His mother spoke, taking a step away from you and Ben. He did think it was a bit overbearing the way his mother came onto you. He was worried she would have scared you. He was happy she was correcting herself, though. He wanted this introduction to be perfect. “My name is Leia, I’m Ben’s mother.” She introduced herself properly this time and held out her hand to you. “I’d like to hug you, but I know that can be a little too much for first-time meetings.” She smiled, but as you held your hand out to her Ben squeezed your other hand. You shot a nervous glance at him while holding your hand in midair, and Ben didn’t know how to proceed.

“No, mom. She doesn't like hugs.” He says, clearing his throat in a weak effort to dispel the nervous crack in his voice. His mother’s smile fades for a moment and he realizes he’s messed up. This was the first time he’d ever allowed another person around you, and the last thing he needs is for either you or him to slip up and have you taken away from him forever. “Right, er, sweetheart?” He asks, squeezing your hand again. It’s a silent plea to do as he says. He doesn’t want his facade to fall apart in front of his mother.

The only thing you can do is nod your head and offer his mother a near-silent “mhm.” It makes Ben angry, but he tries to calm himself. He didn’t foresee this happening and didn’t have time to train or coach you. But, what he does know is that you have to say more than that to his mother.

“Introduce yourself, sweetheart.” He probes, swinging your arm toward his mother. Your eyes widen as if suddenly you gained some kind of clarity and realized that’s what you were, indeed, supposed to be doing.

“Oh, right.” You say before quietly whispering your name to her. You sounded embarrassed by it. Like you didn’t want to admit to her that it was you. A wave of pride shoots through Ben’s chest as he thinks you’re covering him. He hadn’t really been watching the news lately and didn’t know if your disappearance from work had made headlines or not, but maybe you knew more than he did. Either way, he was certain he mother did not know who you were, where you were from, or anything else about to piece together that you were a missing person. Besides, why would anyone need to find you? He was keeping you safe and healthy. 

“Oh, what a gorgeous name.” Leia compliments you, and a smile draws over Ben’s face. He’s so happy that the women in his life are getting along. “I’m so happy that you and my son have met. You’ve made this old woman so happy!” Leia reaches out to you as if she wants to squeeze your cheeks or something, and Ben abruptly pulls you back. You look confused by the whiplash of his mother oohing and aahing over you and the way he’s yanked you away. His mother had always been a touchy-feely kind of person, and he didn’t want to subject you to that kind of thing.

“Show mom your ring, sweetheart.” Ben says, changing the subject as best as he can. He knows it very well may make his mother even giddier, but at least the focus would be taken off of him and be placed more on you. He loves his mother, but he did not like it when she babied him in front of others; especially his wife. 

Without a word you lift your left hand to her and very gently she takes your fingers into hers, reaching on top of her head to lower her glasses onto her nose. “Oh, wow.” Leia breathes, gently moving the ring around and causing the fake diamonds in the band to sparkle. “I’ve never seen a ring like this before. What does this line mean?” She asks, tracing the half of the heart with her nail. 

“They match.” Ben says, dropping your hand and reaching around you to show off his ring as well.  He didn’t feel comfortable letting go of you, even for just a second, so he throws his arm over you and holds you close to him. “When you put them close to each other, they make a heart. See?” Ben slips his ring off using his fingers and holds it next to yours as well as he can. 

“Awwww, how lovely!” His mother beams. Ben feels like he’s finally done something right in his life. His mother drops your hand and Ben wiggles his ring back onto his finger, and he is quick to take your hand back so you can’t get away. He watches his mom smile at both of you, and he knows he has it coming when he sees her eyes sparkling with tears. 

“I just can’t believe that my baby boy is all married and grown!” Leia says, bringing her hands up to Ben’s face and holding them there. “Pretty soon you’ll be telling me I’m going to be a grandmother.” Leia giggles as if it were a joke, but Ben knows he’s going to have to tell her eventually. He casts a look down at your stomach, his own suddenly turns around inside of him because he swears he sees a tiny bump growing under your shirt. Even if it were early, too early for anyone else to tell, he knew his mother deserved to know that she really was going to be a grandmother. 

“Yeah…” Ben retorts with a giggle, ready to tell his mother that you were pregnant, but she surprises him with a hug. She wraps her arms around Ben’s neck and presses her body into his, just like he had hugged her earlier that afternoon. The only difference was, this time, he was more concerned about you. 

He feels you stepping out of the way of his mother and desperately holds on to your hand. Under no circumstances would he let you go. “Okay, mom.” Ben says as he awkwardly wraps his other arm around her. She whispers once again that she’s proud of him, but Ben hardly cares at the moment. She was pushing you away from him, and at that point, she was a threat. 

“Mom. Okay.” Ben says, finding himself pushing his mother away from him a little too forcefully for his liking. She jolts away, stumbling and just barely catching herself before falling back onto the couch. Ben adjusts himself from just clutching your fingers to holding your entire hand once again as silence engulfs the entire room. His mother looks as if she just faced the worst betrayal. Ben looks relieved as he calms himself yet again. You look horrified; white as a sheet and Ben worries that you’re going to pass out again. He has no way to explain his actions, so instead he quickly changes the subject. 

“Why did you follow us here anyway, mom?” Ben asks. He didn’t mean to sound so condescending, so angry, like his mother had inconvenienced them somehow. He was just on edge, nervous, and anxious. It wouldn’t have been the first time he was physical with his mother. He was sure she understood.

Leia clears her throat before reaching down and smoothing out her grey t-shirt. He had seen her do this time after time, brushing off one awkward situation after another like it hadn’t bothered her. It stopped working on Ben after his parent's divorce. Now he felt awful for speaking to his mother the way he did. She was just excited, happy for him. She didn’t deserve what Ben had put her through, but Ben was too proud to apologize to her in front of you. 

“I wanted to visit Lincoln Beach. I have a friend that just moved there and thought I could stop by and visit you two on the way. It’s only an extra three-hour drive, it really wasn’t--”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to follow us. That’s all.” Ben cuts his mother off, hoping she’d at least take the hint that he didn’t appreciate being stalked. Had he known she was going to visit he could have been better prepared. Duct tape, better lies and excuses, and probably a better hiding spot.

“I’m sorry, love.” His mother says with a sigh. Ben feels guilty, but he has to put his foot down somewhere. “I can leave if you’d like. I just wanted to meet my new family, is all. Dad told me he went to check on you and he had worries, so I--”

“Mom, dad doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” All of the anger he had felt back when his father sprung a random visit to his home came rushing back to him, and he found himself raising his voice once again. Out of the corner of his eye he sees you flinch, close your eyes and turn away from him. He squeezes your hand, becoming aware of his own anger faster than it could overtake him. He can’t believe how stressed out he is when the two most important people in his life are standing there in front of him. He has to retract and regroup, to make this right before his anger takes him further down the black hole that is his never-ending guilt. 

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant.” His free hand covers his face and he reaches into the far corners of his mind for another excuse. “Dad just caught us at a bad moment. We had an argument and, and we needed time apart. I didn’t want to just come out and tell him that my girlfriend and I were fighting.” Silently, he desperately begs his mother to believe him. But she’s saying nothing, and the quiet is only fueling his anxiety. He takes a futile look at you, hoping you would pick up his slack and help him, but you were looking at your feet. He squeezes your hand and brings your attention up to him. He needed your help and he needed it now. “Right, baby? You remember that day, right?”

“Right.” You say quietly, shifting on your feet uncomfortably. It’s not much, but it pacifies Ben. He nods his head and looks up at his mother, who is looking just as confused as you. He softly rubs his fingers over your knuckle as a way of rewarding you, but it hardly calms him. He prays that his mother buys what he’s told her. Because out here in Oregon, there was nowhere he could hide. 

“Okay. I understand, Benny.” His mother says with a sigh. “I wasn’t planning on staying long. Maybe just until after dinner, if that’s alright with you.” His mother sounds so defeated; he’s done nothing to correct the situation he had put all three of you in, and he can only think of one thing that would make his mother happy.

“Oh. Just for dinner?” He asks, remembering how happy he was when he opened the door to find her standing on the other side. “Why don’t you stay till tomorrow morning?” He offers, and the way his mother lit up at the proposal tells him that he did the right thing. 

“Are you sure, Benny? I know newlyweds do need their alone time.” His mother says, all while growing even more excited. He had made his mother so happy. There was no way he could say no now. “Bless you, son!” Leia says. A smile breaks over Ben’s face as he watches his mother clap and glow in her excitement. He can’t imagine what kind of experiences he’s opened himself up to allowing her to stay for so long, but he’s sure he doesn’t have the choice to change his mind now. “Why don’t you call dad and ask him how to get the electricity up. I’ll go grocery shopping and cook for you guys. What kind of honeymoon would it be if you had to cook your own food, right?” His mother jokes with a loud, exaggerated laugh. She picks her purse up from the couch and hurries to the door. “I’ll make your favorite, Benny: Smothered pork chops and french onion soup. Is that alright?” Her body is already halfway out the door before she stops, and Ben assures her anything she wants is fine.

“Oh, mom,” Ben says, reaching out to her before she ducks out of the cabin. “Could you bring some duct tape back with you?” He asks as calmly as he can. He feels your hand go limp in his, but luckily you don’t show any other signs of distress. “Some of the pipes are just a little leaky in the bathroom. That’s all.” His mother nods at his request, casts a giddy smile and mouths ‘I love you’ at him before finally making her leave. Once she’s gone, Ben lets out the biggest, most stressed out breath of all time. He looks down at you to find you staring at the door, and when you turn to face him he can’t stop himself from taking your face in his hands. 

He feels the strain of you trying to pull away from him, but it won’t stop him from kissing you as deeply as he can. You don’t move your lips, you’re as stiff as a board, but he still thinks of it as his reward for keeping himself together long enough while his mother was here. When he finally pulls away he’s quick to take ahold of your hand again and lead you over to the couch. 

“I’m sorry, sometimes my mom can have her head in the clouds.” He tries to explain as he sits down and draws you in next to him.

“It’s okay. She seemed very nice” You say back to him, obediently cuddling up against him as he trained you to do so many days ago. 

“You’re doing good, sweetheart.” Ben says, remembering that you were a person involved in this fiasco too. Your accomplishments couldn’t go unnoticed. “Keep it up. Once mom leaves we can have all the fun we want to.” He says a cooly as he possibly could. He reaches into the back pocket of his pants and pulls out his phone. He’s shocked to see he still gets reception out here in the middle of the woods. It was good sign, perhaps one that would lead him to move his family out here instead of in Seattle. He feels you shift uncomfortably below him as he dials his father's number and lifts his phone to his ear. If his mother was going to cook for the two of you, he’d have to get the electricity on first.


His father was in a meeting when he called, but was still able to text the instructions to Ben about how to run the generator and where the fusebox was to allow power to run through the house. He took you outside with him and had you hold a flashlight above the generator even though the sun provided more than enough light. In Ben’s mind, if he saw the flashlight turn off suddenly or bob away from him, it would mean you were running away and he would need to stop you. Nevertheless, successfully brought power to the cabin. Air was running. The option to run heat was working, everything was alit in a warm, comforting glow. 

His mother returned home about an hour and a half later with her hands full of groceries. “I got some more odds and ends for you to have while you’re down here. Feel free to take them back to Seattle with you if you don’t finish it all.” She offered as she started unloading everything on the counters. There was ground beef, chips, sodas, water, spices, anything Ben could imagine. As we watched his mother unload some of the pots and pans she would need to cook dinner, he thought he felt more at home here than he did at his home in Seattle. 

He had never seen you look so lively as you did when eating his mother’s cooking. He watched you smile as you dipped your bread into the french onion soup and took a bite, watched you enthusiastically cut into the pork chop that was breaded in parmesan cheese, flour, garlic and chili powder; all the while he kept an airtight grip on your hand. He was happy to hear you compliment his mother’s cooking, asking for more on your own volition and watching his mother smile at you while filling your plate. Anything his mother cooked was always comfort food for him, and as he felt the warm soup cascading down his throat and filling his stomach he thought all of his stress and worries were melting right off of his shoulders. In this moment, his life was perfect. He had his wife, his child, and his mother all to himself, enjoying each others company, laughing and smiling together like a family should. He would have given anything to be able to spend the rest of his life like this, but of course all good things had to come to an end. 

His mother was kind enough to gather up all the dishes and wash them while you and Ben went to search for some fresh linen for her. He had packed a bedsheet and blanket for the two of you, but didn’t pack anything for the much smaller twin-sized bed he had spent the night in during his childhood. To be fair, he wasn’t expecting his mother either, but he did manage to find a closet with some plain white bedsheets and a white blanket for her to use. At least now, everyone would be comfortable for their first night of vacation. 

Ben allowed you to shower, but only with the door open so he could hear if you were trying to speak through the walls, or try to get his mother’s attention in some other obscure way. He quietly waited for his turn, indulging himself in your panties while you were blissfully unaware. It was a guilty pleasure he hadn’t partaken in in a while, and boy did he miss it. They were lime green just like his first pair, dampened just a bit, had some light staining. Just as he liked them. They were perfect.

He presses them into his nostrils and takes an unrestrained whiff. For some reason, they smell sweeter and sexier knowing that these were his wife's panties this time around. He takes another sniff and welcomes the arousal that courses through his veins. He couldn’t wait to have you tonight. 

He leaves you on the bed to dress and comb your hair out after your shower, trusts you enough to lean out of the door to shout a quick ‘night mom’ down the hall to his mother's bedroom. “Goodnight, baby.” He hears his mother reply, and then he feels he can finally have the night to himself. 

The leash and collar sit at the end of the bed where he put them before your shower. He plans on collaring you for the night and every night thereafter. It would ease his mind knowing you couldn’t get away in the middle of the night, and he was sure his mother wouldn’t pop in on them in the middle of the night and see you collared. There was just one issue: unlike at home, there were no bedposts to lock the end of the leash to. He’s stumped, but comes to the conclusion that sleeping with the leash in the palm of his hand wouldn’t be that big of a deal. He opens the collar and steps toward you, finally gaining your attention. Your mouth falls open and the comb stops mid-stroke, and the look of sadness that stares back at him almost breaks him.

“I thought you said if I were good you wouldn’t use the leash anymore?” He hears your voice straining like you’re going to cry. It’s almost enough to change his mind, but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

“Just during the day, sweetheart.” He offers as he inched closer to you. “Now hold still for me.” He says calmly, but you bring your hand up and swat him away.

“Please Ben? I promise you can trust me. I won’t sneak away in the middle of the night.” You beg, to which he tells you to hush. The worst thing would be for his mother to hear you talking about such things. “Please?” You whine, a lot quieter this time. 

“No.” Ben says coldly, sitting up on the bed and leaning forward. He doesn’t waste another second in collaring you. It clicks, locks into place, and once again more of Ben’s fears are quelled. He would sleep good tonight knowing you were safe and not going anywhere.

It’s moments later that Ben has the both of you nude. He’s pressed himself on top of you and is feverishly kissing you everywhere he can. Your lips. Your cheeks. Your neck. Your breasts. Nothing is safe from his hungry lips. He hears you whimpering, whining, and crying the entire time he does. Just like at home, it doesn’t bother him. He presses on until he’s gliding his cock inside of you. He had forgotten the lube at home so he’s stuck forcing his way into you in a way that leaves him, and especially you, uncomfortable. But that’s okay. Because it was a tradition for newlywed couples to have sex on their honeymoon. And just as the man who married him said: Ben was a man of tradition. 

Ben can’t help but to think about how far he’s come. He was on vacation, having sex in a bed that the other adults for sure had sex in as well. His own parents, his uncle, and his grandparents. Ben felt like he was having a coming of age moment. He had gone from a child who swam in the lake, who stayed up all night snacking on chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers, who came to the Bend boathouse to play, to a man who came here to celebrate his marriage. He feels like an actual adult, like he had made it to a level his other family members had been on. And he only had one person to thank for helping him make it to this part of his life. 

“I love you.” He whispers. “You know I love you, right?” He says as he pushes himself in as far as he can go. You’re dry and it’s not as enjoyable as the sex he had with you at home, but the emotional aspect trumps anything he’s ever felt with you. The tears stream down your face as you force yourself to nod. To anyone else, it would be obvious that you’re telling Ben what he wants to hear. But Ben is Ben. Ben assumes you’re telling him the truth. He pulls himself out and begins the task of bringing himself to orgasm; thrusting in and out of you until he can feel the first few waves of pleasure. He tries to keep his grunts and moans to a minimum, until a sudden, random thought courses through his mind.

It’s one that leaves him feeling confused, yet oddly aroused, and he can’t understand why. He looks at you, at your face that’s contorted in pain until he pulls himself out again to try and understand why the thought of his mother hearing your bedroom deeds turns him on so much. Would she be proud to hear his satisfaction? Would she be proud to hear him giving you satisfaction? He lets out a moan a little too loudly, one that he thinks she may be able to hear. A lightning bolt of pleasure flies through his body and he feels like he’s closer to orgasm than he ever was. He takes a moment to calm himself, to think about these new feelings and how to control them. 

“Uh, sweetheart.” He says nervously. He’s unable to form into words what he wants for a moment; he can’t just come out and say his mother hearing him having sex turned him on. He had to keep his head level, to not raise red flags in your mind. “Can, can you moan a little bit louder tonight?” He asks. It wasn’t the first time he had asked you to moan. He loved to hear your moan, but most nights you refused to do so. So he would ask, and tonight he was asking for you to do it for him and his mother. 

He thrusts into you again, enough to garner a small hiccup or gasp. It wasn’t good enough for him, so he draws out and pushes inside of you again, this time a little bit harder. “Oh!” You say quietly. It’s a start, but it’s not good enough for him.

“Louder, please.” He coaxes, drawing out and pistoning back inside of you. You let out a clearly faked moan, and while it is loud, it’s not loud enough for him. He groans as he pulls out of you, looks over his shoulder at the door and wonders how much louder he wanted you to be. “Sweetheart, please moan a bit louder.” He urges, this time with a little more force in his voice. He’s desperate at this point, and when he fucks you this time he finally gets the results he’s looking for. He watches as your body jolts underneath of him, and the noise that projects out of your mouth and into the room almost makes him spill himself inside of you right away. He swears he hears your moan echo off of the walls, and he knows, he just knows, his mother might be able to hear you if she were still awake. 

He shakes as he lets out his own moan in approval, and takes to fucking you faster. You whimper, whine, moan, and cry so loud, and before he knows it he’s pushing in as far as he can and giving you everything he could. He doesn’t care that he’s cumming inside of you. You were already pregnant, there could be no harm done. Maybe, if he were lucky, you would become pregnant with twins. He sits himself up above you, sweating and even more oversensitive than he ever had been. He had never felt closer to you than he felt tonight, and he could only wish he could have wild sex with you like this every night. 

“I, I…” Ben starts, once again unable to form his words. His head is spinning, he’s shaking, and when he finally feels safe enough he pulls himself out of you, being careful not to allow the thin strand of cum that chases the tip of his cock onto the bed below you. “I think my mom is proud of me.” He whispers, then kisses the top of your head.

Chapter Text

Day Twelve. She smells like my childhood.


That night, Ben has one of the sexiest dreams he has ever had. It trumped even the daydreams of the sex he had with you and, for him, it ends all too quickly.

In the living room, with the couch turned and still pushed all the way up against the window, you sit completely nude with your legs spread wide. He watches in need as you play with your clit, throwing your head back and moaning as loudly as you could. Your calls of pleasure echo off the walls and into his ears, and he knows his mother can hear. His pants become tight as he steps forward, finally drawing your attention.

“Ben, I need you.” You groan, sitting up and looking him straight into his eyes. He takes another step forward as you stop for a minute, stroking your sex as if you were inviting him inside of you. “Please, Ben? Please?” You beg; and who was he to deny you?

He closes the gap between you and drops to his knees, diving face first in between your legs. He’s never gotten to do this at all. Not to you successfully, and not to any other woman out there. But at this very moment, you placed your hand on the back of his head and allow him to indulge himself in you. He can smell your arousal. He can taste your arousal. When he brings his head back, he can see your arousal slick and shiny on your sex. He moans just as loudly as you did. He doesn’t know what to think.

At the time he wasn’t thinking about his mother. He could only think about how much you were turning him on, about how hard his cock was and about how he was going to lay into you when the two of you actually had sex. 

“Don’t stop.” You moan breathlessly. Your words shoot right through him, but before he can drop his head to you again your hand replaces his mouth. You were playing with yourself again, and Ben felt like he had a minute to stop and enjoy the show you were putting on for him.

His thumb traces circles on the outside of your thigh as his mouth waters. You taste better than anything he’s ever had on his tongue before, and soon he finds himself swatting your hand away. However, before he could go back to performing for you, he feels someone’s hand raking in his hair. He tries to turn and see who it was, but they have such an airtight grip on his hair that he can’t move.

“You heard your wife, Benny,” His heart melts as the sound of his mother’s voice rings out behind him. She was there. She was doing more than hearing him. She was a witness to how well he could satisfy you. “Don’t stop. Keep going.” His mother encouraged him, pushing his head down to your sex once again. Nothing turned him on more to know that he was here having sex with you, that you were a willing participant for once, and this his mother was here to witness, and embolden, the act. He lapped at you, went in as deep as his tongue would allow and enjoyed every second of it. At least until he felt the leash in his hand beginning to slip away.


He wakes up with a little more than just his morning erection in his pants. His seed was still warm, wet, and running from his cock, all over his hand and was staining his clothing. He had just orgasmed, and he was a bit horrified to find that he had gotten himself off in his sleep. But it hardly mattered. He had been facing you all night long and when his eyes opened and he didn’t see you, he started to panic. He had an iron-clad grip on the leash now, and when he finally lifted his head and saw you sitting up at the edge of the bed he felt like he could finally relax. You were looking shyly at him over your shoulder, and when your eyes met his you quickly looked away. The blush in your cheeks told him that you were embarrassed about something. Then it dawned on him: You had probably caught him masturbating in his sleep. He was ashamed of himself. Now he was worried about what you thought of him. Did you think that you couldn’t satisfy him in bed and that’s why he was finishing himself off in his sleep? Because that certainly wasn’t the case. He just had a sexually charged dream, it had nothing to do with you and he didn’t want you feeling bad about yourself. He felt the need to reach out to you, to assure you that you had nothing to worry about, but when he pulls his hands from his pants he creates an even bigger mess on the bedsheets. He grunts, quickly becoming frustrated. 

“Let’s go have a shower, sweetheart.” Ben offers, carefully sitting himself up so that he doesn’t make a mess of anything else. With the leash tight in his hand, he shifted and dragged himself to the edge there next to you. The entire front of his pants were stained and his seed oozed from his hand. He was uncomfortable, but he was sure a quick shower would fix all of his woes. 


It took some coaxing, some pushing, and some quiet threats of not allowing you around his mother anymore to get you into the shower with him. Ben didn’t know what you were so afraid of. Sure every time he saw you nude he got urges that were difficult to suppress, but he had ejaculated in his sleep ten minutes earlier. Even though he really wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to fuck you in the shower. 

He stood under the water washing his semen away, cleaning his penis with his back turned to you. His thoughts ran back to the dream he had and why he would have such thoughts about his own mother. It wasn’t as if his mother turned him on. He didn’t want to be sexually involved with his mother or anything like that, but the fact that she sat there and watched as he ate you in his dream turned him on so much. He absentmindedly fisted himself under the water as his cock began to swell, and he didn’t realize that he was working himself up again until you sneezed behind him. He wasn’t even paying attention to you, realized that you could have opened the shower door and left any time you wanted to. But you didn’t. Ben felt neglectful of his loyal wife who was standing there shivering in the cold.

“I’m sorry.” He said, resting his fingertips on your shoulder and trying to step past you. He could take a minute to lather up with soap and shampoo while you warmed yourself under the water. He tried to think of this as a time to be celebrated. He was still on his honeymoon with his pregnant wife, and he was taking his first shower with her. It was like a dream come true; he simply could not focus on his embarrassments from that morning. He wants to kiss you, to hold you, and to tell you how much he appreciates you, but the expressive, tiring yawn you give him when you turn around tells him that he should probably leave you alone. Out in Oregon, he had all the time in the world to spend with you. There was no use rushing his love.


He promises himself that one day he’ll have sex with his wife in the shower, but those promises are shortlived when the two of you step out of the bathroom and into a bedroom that smells like his childhood. With a towel wrapped snuggly around his waist, he lifts your suitcase onto the bed and sniffs a few more times. Pancakes. The good kind with chocolate chips and sugar. Eggs, bacon, and freshly made orange juice. It was as if he had stepped out of the bathroom as a six year old kid again, and it was a wonderful feeling. Goosebumps break out over his skin as he realizes his mother is still cooking for him, and suddenly he can’t get dressed fast enough. 

“Mom is cooking.” He says to you as he pulls up his boxers and fishes around for a T-shirt. “I know you loved her cooking last night, but her chocolate chip pancakes are to die for.” When he finally is able to pull his shirt down over his head he finds you standing timidly next to him. You’ve picked out a simple ensemble: A grey shirt with a Guns N Roses logo on the front and some black jeans. It’s a little more mature for his tastes; he always preferred you to wear bright, colorful clothing. But this was supposed to be your vacation too. You deserved to be happy and comfortable around his mother--especially since you had been doing so well without your collar.

“Can’t wait.” You whisper to him with a somewhat weak smile, and he can’t help but to bend over and kiss you. In his eyes, you were excited. And there was nothing more he could ask for. 

He holds your hand tight as he leads you through the hallway. When the image of his mother standing over the stove hits him, the biggest grin stretches over his face. He feels like he’s at home, safe and sound, and he doesn’t want to ever return to his reality.

“Morning mom.” Ben says as he rushes both you and him to the table. His mother turns around and smiles warmly at you, flipping a pancake on her cast iron griddle.

“Good morning, my newly-wed love birds.” She says, looking back to the stove. “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask what you wanted for breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes were always your favorite, Benny. I hope they’re alright.” Ben can already feel his stomach stretching to its limits knowing how many pancakes he’s going to shovel into his mouth. Why hadn’t he thought to make them for breakfast for you before?

“No, it’s perfectly fine, mom.” He says. Using one hand Ben pulls a chair out for you. He goes from smiling at his mom to pulling your hand to the table so that you could sit, but he looks suspiciously at you when you don’t move at all. 

“Oh, I’m just going to get some juice.” You say as you toss a nervous glance over your shoulder at Ben. He squints his eyes at you, a spike of suspicion courses through his mind as you once again try to pull away from him. 

“Have a seat, sweetheart. I’ll get you some orange juice” Ben offers a little more forcefully. He doesn’t want to argue in front of his mother like this, and he’s horrified when you continue to disobey him. 

“It’s okay, Ben. It’s just right over there.” You say, pulling away from him and pointing at the juice pitcher on the counter next to the stack of pancakes. His mother reaches up into the cabinet and pulls out a glass, being sure to wipe it down with a wet cloth in between scrambling the eggs and cooking the bacon. 

“It’s alright dear,” His mother says, filling the glass almost all the way. “I’ll bring you a glass. Tell me how many pancakes you want, I’ll bring you a plate too.” 

“See, sweetheart? Mom will bring you a glass, come sit down.” He tightens his grip on your wrist and hopes his mother would have convinced you. He doesn’t know what you’re trying to pull. He doesn’t know what you really want out of this interaction. He worries that you’re trying to get the attention he doesn’t want you to have from his mother. He can imagine you passing her a note, or whispering in her ear to tell her you felt unsafe. You weren’t unsafe. You were fine. To him, you were enjoying your time out here with him and his mother, and he can’t allow you to compromise that. He sees his opportunity when his mother turns to put one of the pancakes from the griddle onto the plate and forcibly yanks you toward him. You gasp, stumble into the table and try to catch yourself on it. Your fingers slip, your knees buckle, and your back ends up pushing the chair he wanted you in out from under you.

His mother turns around and a look of concern washes over her face at the sight of you defeated on the floor. “Oh dear. Are you alright baby?” She asks. Your lip trembles as you stare back at her, and Ben realizes a little too late that he’s put attention on you that he didn’t want. 

As quickly as he can, he takes you under your armpits and pulls you up. “Oh, sweetheart,” he moans, adjusting the chair with his foot and pulled you into it. “Are you alright?” He asks, brushing your hair from your face as you look around confused. His mother steps closer and he feels trapped. You’re trembling, your eyes are watering, and he knows what’s to come is not going to be good. “She just--she slipped. She tripped on the leg of the table and fell.” He raises his arm to stop his mother from coming any closer, but that damage had already been done. 

Your mouth falls open in a bone chilling scream, your head falls back and Ben can almost physically see your soul exist your body as you let twelve full days of stress leave from your mouth. “It fucking hurt!” You cry, his mother places her hand over her mouth and steps away while Ben is too slow to cover your mouth. “It hurt when you pushed me into the fucking table, you fucking monster! You--”

“Sorry mom, she gets like this when she, er, she…” Ben struggles to come up with an excuse, but when he does, even he doesn’t think his mother will believe him. “She didn’t take her medication this morning. She was too excited to eat breakfast. Please, just let me handle it.” It's the best lie he can come up with off the top of his head. He doesn't think about the fact that he has no way to prove himself right. As far as he knew, you weren't taking any kind of medication. He would only have to hope his mother went with it. You shout, curse, scream, and cry into his palm as he lifts you out of the chair. The table creaks as it moves across the linoleum floor, and in your wild attempt to free yourself you kicked both his and your chair to the ground. He can’t imagine what his mother was thinking, and, in reality, he doesn’t want to know. He feared she was dialing 911 as he barged into the bedroom, especially when his hand slips and you resort to begging.

“Get me out! Please help me!” 

Ben can’t take it. Bile rises in his throat. His ears ring. For a moment he sees nothing but black and hears nothing but your screams. He can’t control himself. He throws you to the floor in a fit or rage. You grunt and continue to scream for his mother’s help and he knows he needs to quiet you, but he doesn’t know how. He can almost feel his mother standing over his shoulder, horrified of what’s going on and fighting to take you away from him. He loses his mind. He can’t think straight and he knows it’s going to be detrimental.

Amongst your pleas for help his anger overcomes him. He lifts you by your neck and slams your stiff body onto the bed. You kick him, you punch, him, and you try and bite him. He’s ruthless, clasping his hands over your mouth and violently shaking you back and forth. He’s never been this angry at you before. You’ve never acted this horribly for him before. The only thing he can think to do is to end your violence with his violence.

His hand creeps down your neck and he squeezes with all of his might. “Shut up! Just shut up!” He says, trying to keep his voice down as to not bring attention to himself. You choke, you cough, you try to push him off of you, and when he feels like you’ve had enough he finally releases you. “Stop fucking screaming like you’ve lost your mind. My mom doesn’t understand!” He leans up, bearing all of his weight on your midsection and allows you to breathe. Once both of you had calmed down he feels like he has the right to voice his disappointment in you. He starts with how you were doing so well, how he trusted you and how you went and ruined it.

However, it didn’t seem to phase you. Because midword you threw yourself back down onto the bed, brought your limbs close to your body, and once again screamed at the top of your lungs:

“Stop choking--”

He stops you just in time, pressing his hand so hard onto your mouth that he can feel your teeth embedding into his skin. Now he knew for a fact that you were lying, intentionally trying to draw attention to yourself and paint him as the abusive husband he thought he wasn’t. It infuriates Ben. He feels like he’s well within his rights to punish you with another spanking. 

Or beating.

Because that’s exactly what he plans on doing when he winds his fist back. Just like the morning you told him you wanted to leave him, he’s blinded by his rage. He wants to hit you. He thinks if he does it this once, just this once, maybe you’d listen to him.

You close your eyes and cower in fear, folding your body inward as well as you could with a nearly 200 lb man sitting on top of you. It’s just enough to get Ben to stop and think about his actions, and remember that beating you, choking you, and yelling at you meant he was being, choking, and yelling at his own child that you carried within you.

He softens. Drops his hand to your belly as he works through his anger. You were obviously scared. You were obviously acting on your fear of his mother by screaming and kicking him. He sighed, closing his eyes and realizing it was a horrible idea to allow his mother to stay. Perhaps the best thing for everyone was to go home, where he would have more control over you and your fears; where there would be no threats of strangers taking you away from him.

“Please, don’t do that again.” He says, letting out a stressed puff of air. He’s ashamed of himself as you stare at him, shaking and breathing uncontrollably beneath him. He thinks the best thing to do is to remind you of the life you carried within you. 

“Remember, you’re pregnant. You can’t act like that when you’re pregnant.” Ben wants to go further into his explanation, but he doesn’t know enough about how your body would be affected other than he would lose his baby. He huff and he puffs, looking from your belly up to your face. He notices that you aren’t looking at him. You whimper, your eyes cast over his shoulder staring at something he can’t see. His stomach churns when he hears the door behind him creaking open, and even though every fiber of his body screams at him to not turn around, his morbid curiosity gets the better of him.

There his mother stands timidly in the door frame, peeking from behind the door. “I’m--I’m sorry if I’m, uh, interrupting.” She says, and Ben is frozen in fear on top of you. He quickly removes his hand from your mouth and rolls off of you, setting himself up at the edge of the bed and protectively slamming his hand over yours. The blood rushes to his face as he attempts to think of a way to get her to leave, to respect his privacy for once but he’s not quick enough. “But, did I hear you correctly, son? Are you two expecting?” He cringes, looks back at you to find you looking back at him. 

“Seriously?” You whisper in disbelief. You look from him to his mother who stands vibrating with an excited smile on her face. 

“Ben, am I going to be a grandmother?” He can’t bear to look at her, only at you as you place your hand over your eyes and lean your head back against the pillow. He can tell by your intense frown and the way you start shaking that you’re blocking sobs, and he thinks that’s the best possible solution. Ben could talk his way out of this. He had spent the last twelve days talking himself out of trouble; there was no reason why he couldn’t do it now.

“Yeah, mom,” He says, slowly turning his head but refusing to take his eyes off of you. “Yeah. We, we um, we wanted it to be a surprise.” He turns his head all the way and sees his mother just as bright and vibrant as she was yesterday morning. He stands, letting go of your hand in favor of bending over and fixing the blanket over your body. “I’m so sorry for keeping it from you for so long, but she’s not feeling very well. I think we--”

“Oh my goodness, I’m going to be a grandmother!” His mother breaks out into a happy cheer, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. In the blink of an eye she makes a move toward Ben, wapping her arms around him like she can’t help herself. Joy. Delight. Happiness. Comfort. They’re all emotions he feels with his mother in his arms. 

“Yeah, she’s about...about…” He wants to give her an estimate of how far along you are, but in the moment he can’t remember when he had gotten you pregnant. “Six weeks. She’s six weeks along.”

“Oh, bless her heart.” His mother says as she ends the hug with him. They both turn and look at you as you sit there with your arm over your eyes, looking sick and pitiful. “I remember when I was pregnant with you I was sick every single day.” His mother smiles, walking over to you. Ben follows close behind her, crossing his arms as lift your arm from your face and stare at her. “Can I get you anything, dear? Do you want some coffee? Or just some water?” She starts to reach her hand out to your forehead but Ben quickly steps forward and stops her, pushing her hand out of the way and stepping in between the two of you. 

“No, mom, that’s alright.” He says firmly, then watches as she steps away looking disappointed. “I think we’ll just rest. We may need to cut our trip down early, or at least plan to spend more time out here later. I think she just wants to go back home.” His mother lifts her sad eyes to him, and he can tell he’s disappointed her again. 

“I’m sorry, Benny. Pregnancy can be unpredictable at times I guess.” Ben nods his head, feeling satisfied with his mother’s understanding. You, on the other hand, seem to be content with ignoring both of them. You sit unmoving on your side, tucked warmly under the blanket; not drawing attention to yourself and not currently causing Ben’s anxiety to skyrocket. 

“That’s alright, mom. I think we’ll still have some breakfast back here for the time being, though.” His mother smiles and nods her head. 

“I’ll bring you two a plate then!” Her mother says, happily skipping out of the bedroom and down the hall. Ben finally lets go of his breath when the door closes behind her, and he has a moment where he can be alone with you. He climbs into the bed and leans over you, looking down at your pale, uninterested face and planting a kiss on your temple.

“Are you having a good time?” He asked, and he’s completely blown away when you weakly nod your head yes. “Really?” He asks again, and just as weakly you nod again. “Well, do you want to go home?” He asks, but you answer with yet another silent nod. “Okay. Well, why don’t we stay another day or two? I’ll ask mom to leave today and we can have some alone time. Then we can head back to Washington. Does that sound good?” You’re silent for a moment, save the sound of you sniffing and wiping your nose and eyes on the blanket in your hands. But finally, you give him an answer he believes and can agree with:

“Whatever you want, Ben. I don’t care anymore.”

Chapter Text

As to avoid another mishap like he faced just hours before, Ben made use of the duct tape his mother brought to the cabin for him. He had you secured on the floor of the bedroom with the leash tied to the foot of the bed and tape in all of your familiar places. He sits down with his mother, thanks her for spending the night with him and his new wife and for all of her help, but he informs her that you’re sick and he needs to head back home. 

“You’ll come visit me, won’t you, Benny? You and her and the baby, when it’s born?” She urges. Her eyebrows are knit down and he can tell she’s imagining the worst: that Ben would simply disappear as he did nearly two years ago. He knew his mother was proud of the family he had created and didn’t want to say goodbye, but this trip was for you and him. He loved his mother, he enjoyed what little time he got to spend with her these last two days, but you had proven that you weren’t ready to be around other people yet and he couldn’t risk losing you if his mother got suspicious. 

“Of course mom. You’ll be the first we come to visit when she’s born.” He beams as he watches his mother open the car door. He doesn’t know if his child is a boy or a girl yet, and he doesn’t think he will until you give birth since he’s not planning on seeking medical attention for you. He is, however, hopeful that you’re carrying a girl for him. He spent some time thinking about it on his way to Oregon, and he came to the conclusion that raising a daughter would be the most wonderful thing ever. He would dress her in the prettiest clothing, he would learn how to do her hair up in the cutest hairstyles. He could see a little girl with jet black hair just like he had, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tightly, whispering something along the lines of ‘I love you daddy’ to him. The thoughts make him warm and merry. He wants a daughter so badly. 

He holds the door open for her and when she gets settled in the driver’s seat he leans down and kisses her cheek. “I love you, mom. I’ll call you when we make it back home.” He says, suppressing the tears that start to cloud his vision. 

“I love you too, son. Let her know that it was nice to meet her and I hope that she feels better.” He smiles at her as he shuts the car door, steps away as she starts her car and starts to back up out onto the dirt path. In thirty seconds, his mother is gone. It’s just him and you now, and he feels like he can finally relax.


Day Sixteen: She smells of the lake.


For the next four days, Ben lazes around the cabin with you close to his side. There’s no reason for you not to wear your collar, so he keeps it locked tight around your neck with your leash tight in his hand. There’s no one for you to perform for so there’s no reason to reward you, and Ben is okay with that. He feels more secure with you always at his side like this, and he doesn’t see any reason why it needs to change.

His cooking is mediocre next to his mother’s. He can see how miserable you are when you sulk over his sad excuse for chicken soup on the first night, and the next day he attempts to make just regular pancakes for the two of you but ends up burning them. He’s thankful that his mother was thoughtful enough to buy the two of you a box of cheerios and a carton of milk, because that’s what he has to settle for breakfast for the next two days. During most meals you lay across the table with your face tucked into your arms, like how children sleep at their desks in school. He knows you’re miserable, but he reasons with himself that it’s because you miss his mother. “We can visit mom again soon, when the baby is born maybe.” He assures you, along with suggesting he could always have his mother come to visit them. Your response is the same each and every time. A weak shrug, no eye contact, and a deep, hopeless sigh You’re deteriorating before his very eyes, and it takes him until the fourth day to realize that he has just the thing to cure it.


“Come on, it’ll be just like in the photos!” He says to you as he scrolls through your Instagram page. He stands completely nude in the middle of the bedroom next to his discarded clothing. It’s been so long since he’d seen the photoset of you and your friends skinny dipping in Jamaica that he can’t remember where it was in your timeline. Before he moved in with you he had already scrolled through all of your photos, all 2565 of them, three times, but in his excitement he just couldn’t remember where the photoset was. 

He wasn’t surprised that you were opposed to the idea of skinny dipping in the lake, but really he had no other choice. It didn’t even occur to him to pack a bathing suit for you or to retrieve one from his old home for him. The only way the two of you can go swimming is if you do it nude, and he had already decided that the two of you would end up in the lake one way or another. 

“I don’t want someone to see me naked.” You say in a hoarse, quiet voice. You stand there in front of him in just your nightshirt from the previous night. Ben decided he wanted to fuck you while you were bent over the bed that morning and, since it was just the two of you, didn’t see a need in redressing afterword. 

“No one is going to see you naked, sweetheart.” He speaks like he’s quelling the silly fears of a child. He had told you time and time again that this was a remote location and that no one (other than maybe his mother) would be around to hear you scream. The idea of moving his family, including his mother who was clueless enough to eat up every lie he fed her the first two days of his vacation, ran through his mind again when he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it above your head. Life would be so much simpler out here, but he doesn’t think he’d be willing to leave the stability of his job.

The shirt comes off of your stiff body, and when it hits the floor you immediately cover your breasts with your arms. Silly. Silly. Silly. He thinks you’re silly. Each and every time he made you to be naked around him, you always tried to cover yourself. As if he hadn’t ever seen your beautiful, shapely ass, or your perfect cunt, or your rosy, pert nipples and round, soft breasts. His favorite part was when your cheeks and other parts of your skin would blush a deep red as his eyes roamed over every inch. He wondered when it would wear off. He was your husband now; you didn’t have to be embarrassed to show him your body. He was willing to show you every inch of him, and he found it frustrating that you weren’t willing to do the same. 

He holds the leash tight in his hand as he goes back to scrolling through your photos, and after reaching the very first few photos you had taken in high school and scrolling back up, he finally comes to the set of photos he was looking for. 

“See? You’ve been skinny dipping before. I remember when you posted these photos,” He started to say, thinking back on how complicated his relationship was before he moved in with you. He remembers how he desecrated your trust that evening when he came on your back, and about how ashamed he was when he didn’t get your permission first. It didn’t matter that it was on his phone, he still felt like it was just as bad. “I sort of, pleasured myself to these pictures before I moved in. That’s how I know you’ve been skinny dipping before.” He admits, but for some reason, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it this time. Probably because he had married you and didn’t think it was an issue. 

You shift uncomfortably as he waits for a reaction, but he gets none. He’s sort of disappointed, but he reminds himself that his goal was to get you into the water. He adjusts his grip on the leash and then takes you by the hand. “It will be fine, I promise.” He assures you, pulling you through the cabin. When he gets to the front door he finally meets some resistance.

“Ben, please, I’m not comfortable going outside naked.” You say to him as you use your free hand to hold onto the door frame. You sounded firm, yet in a way scared at the same time. Ben was perplexed, wanted to respect your wishes but he had been looking forward to this for a while. He wanted to swim, but he didn’t want to swim alone and risk you running away. 

He takes your hand in his and easily rips it from the door frame, once again assuring you everything would be fine. He steps out onto the small wooden deck and into the sunshine, which covers every inch of his body. He had never been fully nude out in the open before and, so far, he was loving it. The sun caressed his skin and warmed areas that had never previously been out in the open before, creating an immense sense of joy and comfort within him. He figured part of it was the vitamin D his skin was absorbing, and another part was just being able to be comfortable out in the open. He smiled as he looked over at you, but you didn’t seem to be sharing the same feelings as him. You still tried your hardest to cover your breasts with one hand and allowed your other arm to rest in front of your crotch. Ben didn’t like that, but he was tired of trying to correct you. Instead he forcibly took your hand in his and pulled it away from your crotch. You would learn. You had nothing to fear when he was around. 

He dragged you through the dirt and over to the edge of the lake. He was beyond excited to finally be taking a dip with you. He hadn’t swam in this lake in years, and doing it with you and his child felt like a dream come true. The water was dark and murky, and he knew there were fish and other aquatic creatures living beneath the surface. He had fished with his father on this lake several times, but nothing excited him more than swimming in it. 

He placed his foot just under the water and found it was cold. He shivered as he placed his other foot on the bank, then started to wade in. “Oh man,” He exclaimed. “Colder than what I remember!” He tries to lighten the mood, but you still stand there pulling against his hand and your leash. “Come on, sweetheart. It’ll warm up when you get in.” He urges you and pulls on you, but you still pull against him. Your bare feet slide in the mud a few feet, and when you jump at the sting of the cold water he feels accomplished.

“This water is dirty! I don’t want to swim in this dirty water!” You squeal as he pulls you in deeper. He was up to his hips, you were up to your knees and he felt like he was making great progress.

“You worry about the most trivial things.” He said as he waded deeper and deeper. The dirt started squeezing up between his toes and his body was acclimating to the cold water second by second. “I swam in this lake every summer, and I’m perfectly fine.”

“I can’t swim!” You scream, the water now up to your breasts. Ben laughs out loud at your lies. He had seen several videos and pictures of you swimming on your Instagram and Facebook. 

“You aren’t very good at lying.” He said, finally leaning back and allowing the water to carry him away. He still held on tight to your leash as your feet stayed cemented to the waterbed. “Now come here, let me hold you. We can swim together.” He no longer takes your hesitation as an option and pulls you fully into his arms. You yelp as you wrap your arms and legs around him against your will. It’s a bit to process at first for him. Until he gets you positioned against him just right. 

You’re weightless in the water, clawing at his back and hyperventilating. Ben thought it was cute. Your teeth chattered in his ear and you complained about the water being too cold. It was less than ideal, but that fact that you were hugging him, willingly letting him hold you and warm your body, it was more than Ben could ask for. One hand supports your backside while the other snakes around your side. He has to refrain from moving his hand to your sex, to feel you when he knows he’s made you bare it all, but from the shocked look on your face and your reluctance to look him in the eye told him that it wouldn’t be the best of ideas. 

You’re panicking, shaking in his arms and soon he finds it difficult to control you. “Relax.” He warns as you start to fight him. He hadn’t anticipated this at all. You twist and turn, gag and scream as he struggles to control you. 

“I want to get out!” You say, your legs coming free from his hips and kicking around wildly. “It’s dirty, it’s disgusting, it’s cold!” You cry out, finally allowing yourself to cry. 

“Sweetheart, just please calm down.” He says, trying to quell your fears. He doesn’t understand what’s gotten you so scared. There was nothing dirty or disgusting about the water. You’re over-exaggerating, and it was causing Ben to lose his grip on you. The two of you bob in and out of the water as his hands slip across your wet skin. Half of your hair was drenched and when you throw your head from side to side the ends smack him across the face causing him to flinch. “Hold still!” He begs you, starting to wonder if you really were telling the truth about not being able to swim. He holds on as tight as he can, trying to dodge your head and your flailing limbs, but when your knee comes in contact with his unprotected ballsack he temporarily loses control of his arms and legs. 

In a matter of seconds, you’re gone. His entire body convulses, and he quickly realizes you're nowhere to be seen. His arms are painfully empty, and the moment he gets his clairty back, he screams at the top of his lungs. The first thought that runs through his mind is you can’t swim and you’ve slipped under the water, sinking to the very bottom of the lake where he would never see you again. He reaches under, pushing the water aside but it’s so dark and murky he can’t see anything. He doesn’t feel you. He doesn’t hear you, and the only thing he has left to do is to dive under. 

He takes a deep breath and wastes no time in diving under the water. His eyes burn with the dirt and sand he’s kicked up, and the only thing he can see is dark green water. He only comes up when his vision starts to blacken and he’s gone absolutely nowhere. He roars your name as loud as he can, and the only response he gets is the sound of his voice echoing off the trees around him. He stands in the water alone, trembling, crying, already mourning your death. What was worse was this was his fault. He forced you to swim in the lake when you had told him you didn’t know how to swim. He pleads with every higher being he can think of to allow him to find you, but on the third time he resurfaces and he doesn’t see you, he starts to feel hopeless. 

He turns around and around, the cabin and forest flashing in brown and green streaks in his vision. He calls your name one more time, and just when he’s about to give up, rush for his phone and call 911, he sees something move out of the corner of his eye. He snaps his head to where he saw the flesh-colored movement and feels entirely relieved to see your foot sinking down into the water. You were swimming just below the surface and he could barely see the outline of your body and the long, slim leash following you. He immediately felt relieved as he saw you swimming away, almost chuckled to himself as he now knew for certain you had lied to him about being unable to swim. He takes a step after you before the maddening realization set in:

You were swimming away from him. 

You were succeeding in running away from him, securing the freedom that you hadn’t earned from him yet. His heart rate goes from normal to through the roof in less than two seconds, and soon he’s running as fast as the water would allow him to. 

He’s in a rage as he screams at you to come back, doesn’t even blink in order not to lose you in the water again. His groin still hurts. His body still hurts. But none of it stops his fury in seeing you swim away from him.

He sees red as you quickly approach the bank, turn and look at him over your shoulder before diving under once again. He was livid, and it takes him too long to come to the conclusion that he could go faster swimming than he could running through the water. 

He, just like you, takes a dive. He’s an Olympic athlete competing for the gold medal that was you, and he was determined to get you even if it killed him. When he comes up for air he can hear you screaming, can see himself getting closer to you, but it would seem he had run out of time. The last time he comes up for air you’re running as quickly as you can in the knee-high water. His life practically flashes before his eyes as he takes a dive for your ankles as soon as he’s able to run, but falls pitifully into the mud instead. You howl as you finally come free of the water and Ben’s head spins as you take off toward the trail, completely naked, like your life depended on it. This was not happening. This absolutely could not be happening to him. 

It feels like he’s rising from his own grave as he finally makes land, and then takes off just as fast as you do. Everything runs in slow motion all around him. There are no noises. There is no pain under his feet from the twig, rocks, and whatever else the forest had to offer him. There’s no shame in running completely naked out in the open. There is only his need for you.

And luckily for him, his extreme need pays off.

He takes one final leap and soon both of you fall into the dirt. You let out a blood-curdling scream as he bears all of his weight on you, pinning you to the ground until he feels he’s never going to lose you again. He loses track of the time. The two of you could have sat there for seconds, hours, or days for all he knew. He held onto you tight, felt your ribcage expand and retract, and chose to take it as another lie when you would rasp ‘I can’t breathe’ to him. This was it. Ben was done with your games, your drama, and your damsel in distress attitude. He sits up, rolls off of you and seizes your hair. “Get up, let’s go.” He shouts as he pulls you to your feet from behind. He doesn’t wait for you to get your footing, instead he drags you along the forest floor; through the dirt, rocks, sticks, and bugs. He can feel you wiggling and trying to free yourself, can hear your frenzied shrieks of pain, but he doesn’t care. 

He’s done everything he could to show you how much he loved you. He’s taken care of you. He’s married you. He’s gone through all this effort to have a honeymoon to celebrate his love for you. And this is what you do. You spit on his hard work and throw it back in his face. You’re unappreciative, you’re cruel, you’re ungrateful. You try to run away when all he wants to do is give you the world, and he can’t take it anymore.

“I need to go to the hospital!” You shout, but he passes it off as another one of your lies. “Ben please, take me to the hospital!” He can feel you stand up on your feet and stagger behind him, but he refuses to even acknowledge you. You cry. You scream. And you do what he can’t see: You bleed.

He doesn’t see the ghastly cut that runs almost the entire length of your arm until he throws you into the couch and loudly tells you that he’s packing both of you up and leaving at once. He’s shaken just a bit at the sight of your entire limb and the front of your body covered in blood. You must have cut yourself when he tackled you to the ground. There’s so much blood, your face is twisted in pain and he recognizes that you likely would need medical attention, but he didn’t have the option of taking you to the hospital. Not only would you instantly give yourself away, but Ben had been without health insurance ever since he turned 26 and had to be off of his parent’s insurance.

He sighs, runs his hand down his face. He had to at least clean it. He could clean your wound and then decide what to do later on. “Get up. Come on.” He says, pulling on your collar and leading you into the kitchen. He stands you at the side of the sink and runs a washcloth over your wound. You scream and thrash as the lukewarm water runs over your arm and into your cut. Ben gets splashed with the mixture of blood and water and he finds himself growing more and more frustrated by the second. 

“Ow, ow, ow!” You say as you try and pull away from him, but he keeps a tight grip on your arm.

“Hold still.” He says as he maintains his grip and pulls your wound under the water again. “I have to clean it. We have no bandaids up here.” He says, staring into the deep red cut. You whimper and whine, once again begging him to take you to the hospital, but that’s definitely not an option after all of your escape attempts up here. He thinks for a moment; a regular bandaid would be far too small, but he had literally nothing else. The only thing he can think of is to wrap your arm in washcloths before the long drive back home. But first, he should probably find a way to clean it.

The first thing his mind comes to is the small bottle of green, apple-scented dish soap that his mother bought. Would it work? Would it hurt? There was only one way to tell, and from the way you were acting Ben felt like he had no other choice. He picks up the bottle and flips the top open, but the horrified gasp that escapes your mouth when he starts to tip it over your arm causes him to abruptly stop.

“Ben, no!” You cry, pulling your arm free from his grasp. He bares his teeth as he reached for you, too afraid you’re going to run off again. However, in a twisted turn of events, you offer him your other, uninjured arm. “You--you can’t put dish soap on it!” You stutter, but Ben has a hard time focusing on you. Your wound bleeds. Blood drips slowly on the floor of the kitchen, and the small patters make his stomach churn. You obviously needed something to clean it right away, he didn’t think you had time to be picky. 

“The bar soap.” You mumble, your eyes as wide as saucers as you shook wildly. “The bar soap, in the bathroom. The one we wash our hands with. We can use that to clean it. It will be fine.” He presses his lips in a hard line as he asses the situation. Maybe you were right. Maybe dish soap wasn’t the best option. Maybe he should have thought a little more thoroughly about this. It was your health and wellbeing after all. 


He thoroughly washes your cut with the bar of soap that he had pulled from under the sink on the first day of your vacation. You squint, squirm, and cry as he does, but when he feels like it’s clean enough, when he feels like the bleeding has slowed down, he packs it with one face towel and covers it with a regular towel. He tapes it down and hopes for the best, shackles you to the foot of the bed and immediately gets to packing. This vacation, this honeymoon, just hadn’t worked for him at all. He came out here so hopeful, but was leaving so defeated. It was depressing. His heart was aching and he didn’t know how to process his feelings. I didn’t want to leave and go back to Seattle where he’d have to return to work, leaving you for upwards of eight hours a day at home alone. But he also didn’t want to stay here where he would forever be reminded of how he almost lost you, how he put a huge cut in your arm when he tackled you. How he introduced you to his mother only to break his trust and try to get yourself taken away. 

He closed his eyes as he shut his suitcase. What a horrible way to celebrate his marriage.


He packs what food he can take with him in a plastic bag, and one by one carries everything out to his car. He’s quiet as he contemplates why things were so awful, and as always he’s never the one to blame. He went through all of this, he spent all this money, and went through the trouble of bringing his mother’s suspicious down enough so that she would cook for them, and this is how you react. He just didn’t understand. Why couldn’t you be happy? Why did you have to fight him? Why couldn’t you just accept the fact that you, him, and your baby that the two of you created together, were a family? He only wanted the best for you. He would give you anything if you would just be happy with him. Was it really too much to ask for? He closes the passenger side as he fights off his tears. Maybe he just wasn’t good enough to keep you happy.

He does one final sweep of the cabin, walks out back in order to shut off the power and water, and when he returns to the bedroom he finds you sitting against the bed with your legs straight out. The first thing he’s drawn to is the red stain on the originally tan towel. Your wound was still bleeding, and he feels useless in helping you. 

“Are you ready to go back home?” He asks you, walking up and squatting down in order to unlock your leash and collar. He hears you gulp, looks straight past his head as he grasps your good hand and pulls you to your feet.

“No, I would rather go to the hospital so they can put stitches in my arm.” You sound sincere, worried, and defeated all at the same time. He’s lost count of how many times you’d asked to go to the hospital, but the answer would always be the same:

“No, sweetheart. I can’t take you to the hospital.” Your lip quivers as you refuse to move when he pulls on your leash.

“But, but think about the baby.” You say, begging him to understand. “I can’t walk around with a huge cut on my arm like this. It won’t be good for us!” He stops for a minute as he contemplates your words. It was the first time you had mentioned your child, and for a moment he almost gives in. What if it became infected and it took a toll on his child? That wouldn’t be good. You had a point, but he still doesn’t think it’s a big enough risk to take to bring you out in public.

“I’ll get you and our stuff dropped off at home and then buy stuff to doctor your arm, sweetheart. It’s the safest option we have.” Tears stream down your face at his answer and, reluctantly, you follow behind him. Now fully dressed he leads you out of the cabin, locks the door, and doesn’t plan on coming back. He heads toward the car, opens the door for you, and makes you to sit on the floor of the car and piles the suitcases and food up on top of you, making sure to leave your arm out where he can monitor it. You look just as uncomfortable as you did when he drove you up here but it didn’t matter to him. As he starts the car he takes one final look at the cabin, saying a silent, heartfelt goodbye where he admits he doesn’t think he can come back. You had ruined the final piece of his childhood, and he could only hope that the future memories he would make with you and his child would be strong enough to replace the hole in his heart that he was driving away from.


He makes it home at 6 PM that same day, pulls his car into the garage and starts the process of unloading his luggage. You fell asleep leaning against the center console, and other than being paler than normal when you wake up, he doesn’t find anything wrong with you. The spot of blood isn’t that much bigger than when he left the cabin and he finds that he can finally be at ease. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the small bathroom where he sits you on the floor and tapes you up. You stare at nothing, you say nothing, and you don’t even seem to be breathing to him. You’re out of it, you’re afraid, but that was okay. He gently reminded you that he was going to the CVS to get you stuff to treat your arm while he locked your leash to the back of the toilet, but you do nothing to acknowledge him. You’re quiet. You’re still. You haunt Ben as he gets up and steps away from you. It’s the first time he can see that something is wrong with you. Whether it’s from your cut, or the emotional turmoil you had suffered during your time at the cabin, he can’t tell. He just knows he has to fix you. But the only way he’s willing to do that is to treat the physical damage that he can actually see.

Ben returns home with a can of saline wound wash, a few rolls of gauze, something called “Blood Stop,” and a box of wound closure tape. All together, everything adds up to well over $40, but he only walks away paying 99 cents for a tall can of raspberry Arizona tea. One by one he opened each box and stuck the contents in his pockets, except for the wound wash which he quietly stuck down the waistband of his pants while looking at pregnancy tests in the far, back corner of the store. He still hadn’t gotten paid and he couldn’t afford any of this, but this was a life or death situation. He briefly wonders if, since he was stealing so much if it would be that big of a deal to steal a pregnancy test as well, but he feels like he’s been in the store far too long at this point. He didn’t need a test to know that you were pregnant. He trusted both his and your instincts. As calmly as he can he walks toward the front of the store, reaches into one of the many fridges and grabs a drink that he thinks you’ll like, and then checks out. Even though his heart is pounding and he can feel himself sweating, he manages to keep cool the entire time. His transaction goes flawlessly and soon he’s stepping back out into the sunset, into his car where he speeds home in order to heal your wound.

You cringe and softly whimper as he tears the makeshift bandages from your arm, runs it under the water in order to clean the dried blood off of it, then coated it in a heavy spattering of wound wash. He allows it to sit on your open wound for a few seconds while your arm shakes uncomfortable. He imagines that it burns as it cleanses it, but it was for the best. When he wipes the wash off your wound looks dehydrated. There’s much less blood now and he can see it’s deep. It probably did need stitches as you suggested, but that option was off the table. He reaches for the blood stop sheets and packs your wound before holding it closed and taping it off with the wound closure tape and covering it with the gauze and bandage pads. He took a good look at your arm, it looked as good as new.

“I’m sorry, I’m not a doctor, sweetheart.” He says as he marvels at his handiwork with a proud smile. He thinks he’s done an exceptional job at treating you, and with this kind of treatment for the next few weeks he convinces himself that your wound would heal all on it’s own. You stare blankly at his chest as he let’s go of your arm. You look just as exhausted as he feels, and he thinks calling it an early night would be a good idea. He puts his arm around your neck and leads you out of the bathroom, up the stairs, and back into his familiar bedroom. 

That night, he sleeps with his entire world in his arms. Even though you’re stiff and not as lively as you were every other night before, he holds you close and is unwilling to let you go. It doesn’t occur to him that you’ve hit your wit's end. That you’ve hit your limit of emotional and physical abuse and that you simply can’t take it anymore. He can’t see the hopelessness that exists in your mind, can’t see that you’ve come closer than ever to losing your will to live and that you’re in a constant state of pain, suffering, and panic. He doesn’t know it, but you hate him. You hate his mother, and you hate everything that surrounds you. A home is supposed to be a place where you feel safe, but he’s turned it into a house of torture and humility. Even your own bed was so alien to you. A piece of furniture that you used to come running home to at the end of a busy workday had become a place where you lie awake in agony after a short but brutal fucking, fishing through your mind for any way out of this constant nightmare he made you to live in. You could never find one, of course. So you would start the cycle over again the next day. Crushing hopelessness, physical and emotional pain, suffering, and feelings of confusion and inadequacy when you thought there was a small chance that he did actually love you. It all led up to mental exhaustion on both ends, and while he would sleep quietly next to you you would sit awake and stare at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve this hell you were living and breathing every second of your life.

But Ben is far too gone to consider the fact that, over your honeymoon, he pushed you too far. He thinks you love him when, in reality, what little freedom he’s allowed you to have with his mother was used intuitively. He holds you close that night hoping that he’s shown you the true extent of his love, that he’s willing to do anything he has to in order to take care of you. But what he doesn’t know is, while you sit there near lifeless in his arms, you’re planning. Scheming. Thinking. You had had enough of Ben and his delusions. You needed out. And if you didn’t take your freedom into your own hands soon, you knew you wouldn’t live long enough to find it.


Day Twenty. She smells of nothing.


Today was the one day Ben wished he would have called out of work. He worked early, 8 am to 4 pm, but at 4 his boss asked if he could stay another hour since the closing delivery driver called out. One hour turned into two, turned into three, and suddenly Ben didn’t know when he would get home. He told his boss he had to stop back home and feed his dog, which wasn’t completely a lie. He didn’t have a dog, but he had something he did need to feed. His boss assured him that he would let him go soon, that he was over hours and didn’t want him working too long, but it wasn’t enough for Ben. You hadn’t eaten since six when he fed you a bagel with honey for breakfast, and he was worried about you.  

Not to mention the fact that literally everyone Ben crossed that day had been a total ass to him. His coworkers from the night shift rolled their eyes at him when he asked why the restaurant was a mess, his boss was snippy when he told him he’d need gas for his car before he could start his shift, and each and every customer he delivered food to had an issue he couldn’t solve. One man claimed he ordered a small pizza and a large order of boneless wings when the order Ben was given was a large pizza with a small box of boneless wings, and of course Ben caught the anger and ridiculous demands of the customer. One woman didn’t specify which apartment was hers and Ben spent fifteen minutes driving around a complex he wasn’t familiar with until she came running up to his car screaming obscenities at him for being late only to have her snatch her pizzas from him and running off without a tip. All of this mounted up to the moment he returned to the restaurant after almost being attacked by a large, unleashed German Shepard in someone’s front yard, and his boss offered him a $100 bonus for staying the rest of the day. It was an offer that was hard to say no to. He could use the extra money and he thought it would be a perfect way to spoil you. He assures his boss that he’d have to talk to his wife first, and then he’d let him know.

He takes a fifteen-minute break from work and goes to sit out in his car. His phone is warm and his battery is halfway drained from using Skype to connect with you all day long. He feels content as he unlocks his phone and goes through his recent apps in order to get to Skype. He hadn’t seen you all day long and he missed you. He thought if he had a few minutes to look at you he could make his decision a little easier on if he wanted to stay. He wanted to spend time with you, but an extra hundred dollars would go a long way. 

His phone finally loads Skype, and he stares at a black screen with the word “connecting…” staring back at him. He yawns. He’s tired. He plans on taking a nap with you when he gets home.

At least until the screen finally loads, and what stares back at him causes his heart to halt painfully in his chest.

There’s no you. There’s just an empty bathroom. Your collar sits open on the floor, still hooked up to the leash, next to the same steak knife he gave you last night to cut up the burger he made you for dinner. He looks a little closer, and it would seem next to the knife is your wedding ring. He breaks out in a cold sweat as everything around him goes quiet. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what’s going on. Was it some sort of sick joke you were playing on him? Surely you couldn’t be gone. Surely he couldn’t have forgotten to lock your collar this morning. You were just hiding off to the side You couldn’t leave him. You love him. You were his wife and you were carrying his baby. You were still there. You were definitely still there.

“Sweet--sweetheart?” He calls out after switching his microphone on for the first time, swallowing the bile that rises in his throat in a weak attempt to make the painful lump in his throat disappear. Nothing happens. Nothing moves. There is no you. There is nothing.


He screams at you. Screams your name so loud that his entire car shakes and he’s finally lost his cool. “Sweetheart, it’s me! Where are you?” He calls out, but there’s nothing. He slams his hand down on the passenger seat and grips the first piece of trash he finds, crumbling it in his palm as his nerves get the best of him. Just when he’s about to scream at you again a pair of black shoes steps into his field of vision. They face the laptop that’s on the sink for a moment before it moves to reveal a young man in a police uniform and blue rubber gloves. Ben’s mouth falls open in a gasp as the man stares inquisitively back at him. He can’t see Ben, he doesn’t have his camera on but Ben still feels as if the man can see straight through his soul.

“Who is this?” He asks the camera, but Ben doesn’t answer. Instead he slams his thumb onto the end call button and throws his phone to the floor of his car. 

This was it. You were really gone this time.

Chapter Text

Ben leaves work with one thing on his mind: How? He goes over every excruciating detail in his mind as he speeds down the road, barely paying attention to what was going on around him. You asked him for a knife to cut your burger, but not a butter knife because you told him yours were old and worn down. He pulled a sharper knife from your knife block and handed it to you, turned around to finish dressing his burger and didn’t think anything of what you were doing. 

When it came time to eat, you surprised him once again. “Ben, I’m sorry for trying to run away.” You said, and it caused him to stop mid-chew. “I did have a good time, and I thought your mom was wonderful.” Looking back on it, Ben can tell that you forced the smile onto your face, but at the time he didn’t care. He was over the moon that you had apologized to him, that you saw the error in your ways for running away. You even asked when the two of you could go back, and he was so happy he almost jumped out of his chair.

You seemed to share his excitement as he planned another trip a few weeks out. You even suggested the two of you see the city of Portland and spend a few nights in a hotel during the trip. He couldn’t stop smiling at your enthusiasm, and couldn’t believe his ears when you asked for him to take you to bed. 

But first, you needed to stop at the bathroom. He cleaned up the mess from dinner, picking up your plate and not even remembering that he had given you a steak knIfe, and then he took you to the bathroom. He stood outside and waited for you to do your business, then he led you upstairs where he undressed you. He had questioned your choice in a deep blue, Washington State University sweater when it was still summertime, but in hindsight, he wondered if that’s where you hid the knife he saw in the bathroom. 

When you were finished you took him by the hand, led him upstairs to the bed where you kissed him oh so passionately, allowed him to fall into the bed on top of you until you stripped down fully, moved onto your hands and knees, and allowed him to have you in his favorite position. It was the most animated you had ever been during sex, you were even more vocal than you had been before and he could have sworn you came for him. That night the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms. Had he known it would have been the last time he got to fuck you, the last time he’d be able to hold you and tell you he loved you, then he would have never even considered going to work.

Now here he was, speeding down the road, nearly running red lights and not watching out for the people driving--and walking--around him. Everything but what was obviously the truth whizzed through his mind: You hurt yourself with the knife and managed to get in contact with the cops, or you thought he was in trouble so you managed to free yourself and call the cops. He blinks the tears out of his eyes, trying to keep his thoughts focused on driving to his home. You couldn’t be gone. You had a great evening with him yesterday. You loved him. He loved you. What reason would you have to run away?

Ben pulls onto the main residential road, but when he tries to pull onto his street he finds it’s blocked by yellow crime scene tape and two police cars. As he stares out past the blockades his heart leaps into his chest; all he can see are police cars. There’s more than he can count, coupled with two ambulances that are parked right in front of his house. Once again his mind jumps to the obviously wrong answer: That you hurt yourself and these people were giving you medical attention.

Just when he makes the rash decision to barrel through what was stopping him from getting to you, a fully armed, gun toting officer stepped out of the car and waved his hand at him. Ben rolled down the window, ready to explain that he was your husband and he was deeply concerned about you, but the man started speaking before he got a chance.

“This road is shut down. A crime has taken place. Do you reside in this neighborhood?” He asked and, without thinking, Ben said yes. 

“My wife is home by herself, and, and, and I’m just scared for her safety!” Ben starts to panic and the officer holds up his hands to calm him down.

“Alright, alright. Which house do you live on, sir?” He says, but his words and actions do nothing to calm him.

“1004. On the right there.” The officer’s face was stone cold. Ben didn’t realize he had just given himself away.

“What’s your name, sir?” He asks, fishing for more information.

“Ben Solo.” He digs his grave even further. 

“And what’s your wife’s name?” The officer pressures him further, and finally Ben realizes something is amiss.

“Why do you need to know her name?” Ben’s face twists in confusion, and the officer steps closer to his car.

“To verify that your wife is safe, sir.” He bends over and looks deeper into his car, making Ben all the more nervous.

“Look, you don’t need to know her name. Please just let me into my neighborhood!” Ben tightens his grip on the steering wheel, suddenly feeling like he was being interrogated for no good reason. “She’s pregnant, I’m afraid she might have had a miscarriage!” 

“Tell me the name of your wife, sir, and I can let you into your neighborhood.” He was much firmer this time, and Ben noticed his eyebrows were knitted down. He had a look of grave seriousness on his face, and when Ben noticed he was no longer looking directly at him and at his passenger seat instead, he felt as if he were going to cry.

During his bad day he had gotten out the black and white photo of you he kept in the glove box of his car and looked at it frequently, along with the image of you he saw on Skype whenever he wanted to see what was going on with you in real-time. He felt time slow down as he reluctantly turned his head and found the photo of you still sitting there. He gasped, finally coming to the realization, after twenty long, torturous, days, that he had done something wrong.

“We have the suspect.” The man said into his small radio. Ben’s head whipped around so fast that he almost projectile vomited all over the officer. “Sir, step out of your vehicle and place your hands behind your head.” 

“No, no, no. You don’t understand! Please let me explain myself!” Ben begs for the man’s understanding, but clearly he’s not having any of it.

“Sir, I need you to step out of your vehicle, now.” The man says, almost shouting. Once again Ben begins babbling on, trying to talk his way out of trouble just as he had the last twenty days. But unfortunately, the officer doesn’t budge. “Sir, step out of your vehicle right now, or I will tase you and pull you out!” The man is yelling now, drawing the attention of several other officers. The only thing he can focus on is the men and women in uniform running up toward his car.

And he loses it. 

He presses on the gas and sends his car propelling forward so fast he can’t steer the car to the right fast enough. He drives up on the sidewalk and takes down a yield sign before he manages to do a complete U turn and speed off toward the main road, where he recklessly dodges oncoming vehicles and takes off at over 60 miles per hour. He’s crying now, shaking as he looks into his rearview and sees the five or six police cars turning from the road and chasing after him. He feels like a criminal, like a character from the video games he used to play as a child. Only this wasn’t some digital world in his TV or computer. The cops wouldn’t just magically lose sight of him. He didn’t have the option of stepping out of his car and killing them in order to get away. Terror rattles his bones as he pays no mind to the oncoming, left-turning vehicles as he makes the next right turn. Among the many sirens in his ears he can hear his tired squealing against the pavement as well as the horns of the angry drivers he had cut off. But he didn’t care. He didn’t want to go to jail. He didn’t deserve to go to jail. He was just trying to be a good husband. He didn’t do anything wrong!

Down the road he doesn’t see the cops right away, manages to make another right and continues to make random turns as he sees fit. The neighborhood is wealthy, containing huge houses just like the one he lived in with you. In the quiet, he’s able to think for a moment as he cruises down past several large houses. He couldn’t stay in his car forever. He had to run. He had to hide. He didn’t want to go to jail!

Just the thought of going to jail sends him into yet another panic. His eyes glass over and he finds himself audibly sobbing as he turns out of the neighborhood and back onto the main road. He doesn't see any cop cars and thinks it’s safe to proceed as normally and casually as he can. Sure his car was comically old and stood out from some of the other, newer models that surrounded him, but surely he couldn’t be the only person who drove a car like this? Yes. Of course. He was being paranoid. Maybe the cops weren’t around because they had spotted a different car that looked like his and were chasing after that person instead of him. He just had to play it cool. If he managed to make it to his parents’ house alive he could hide out there until things died down and he could move back into his home with you. He thinks you must be terrified out of your mind without him. He is your husband after all, and he took such good care of you.

Ben had never been a religious person, but on his way back to his parents’ home he prayed to every higher power he could think of. He prayed that the cops wouldn’t catch him. He prayed that the two of you wouldn’t be separated for so long. He prayed that the stress you were no doubt enduring without him wouldn’t affect his child. And mostly, he prayed for you. He hadn’t seen you since this morning and he didn’t know why you had called the cops. He prayed that you weren’t hurt and that you would survive your time without him.

Still not thinking, he pulls up in front of his parents’ house and just barely manages to put his car in park before ripping his keys from the ignition and running up to their front door. His fingers fumble with the keys, and at first he tries to open the door with his own house key. When it won’t fit into the keyhole he gurgles in frustration, trying his hardest to keep his sobs quiet and his mind focused on what’s important. He couldn’t stand out here on the porch in the open like this, he had to hide! 

Every key on his key ring looks exactly the same to him. His eyes sting and everything is blurry from his tears. It takes him an eternity to find the right key, but when he does he inserts it, unlocks the door, throws it open just wide enough for him to slip in, and then slams it shut behind him. He leans against it, takes a look around and determines from the loud, Alternative music playing from down the hall that his stepsister is home. The lack of cars in the driveway indicates she’s home alone, and Ben truly doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t think she’ll get in his way, but he can’t risk it either. He reaches over and shuts the lights in the living room off and prances over to the two large windows and lowers the blinds. The less the cops can see, the better. He rushes into the kitchen to do the same thing, and his thoughts are so loud that he doesn’t hear Rey sneaking up behind him.

“Ben?” She asks, and Ben jumps nearly out of his skin. He turns around after shutting the curtains in the kitchen, takes in Rey’s look of confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“Rey, please mind your business for once!” Ben says as he shuts the lights out and runs past her. “Stay out of my way and leave me alone!” He’s sweating, wiping his eyes free of tears and trying to make himself appear as if he weren’t losing control. Now more than ever did he need you, and he would have done anything to hold you at this very moment.

“Why are you shutting the lights off?” She asks as she tries her best to keep up with him down the hall. On his way to his bedroom he shuts off the lights in the hallway and takes a dive for the bedroom, slamming the door in Rey’s face without giving her any of the answers she desired. From there, he feels safe again. He dives under his too small twin sized bed and pulls the blanket down over himself, cloaking himself in darkness and quiet that he needs. He shakes uncontrollably and tries to quiet his sobs, but it’s a task that proves to be impossible when he feels like the small space is closing in on him.

“Ben!” He hears his sister banging on his door, begging him to come out and talk to her but he doesn’t trust her. “You’re driving me mad! What the hell are you doing?!” She cries out, sending Ben’s anxiety through the roof.

“Go away!” He cries, dropping his forehead to the dusty carpet below him. He bawls into the fibers and can’t seem to find peace at all, and he doesn’t think he ever will. What if his stepsister was calling the police on him right now for acting strangely? What if his stepmother came home and started to emotionally abuse him again? His mind was filled with an endless amount of what-ifs, ones that couldn’t be answered and ones that were destroying his brain. Ben was afraid. He would have done anything to be taken out of this situation and be placed back with you.

Time passes. He’s not sure how much, but time definitely passes before anything happens around him. He’s unwilling to leave his spot under his bed to check if everything is in order outside, but soon he finds he doesn’t have to. 

He jumps at the sound of wood breaking, snapping and falling to the floor around him. In an instant he’s no longer alone in his room, and he can hear multiple people entering his room at once. He holds his breath and tries to stay as still as possible as to not draw attention to himself, but he knows this is it. He knows it’s the cops and he knows he’s going to jail. His tears come fast and before he knows it, the blanket that conceals him is ripped away and his world is full of light yet again.

“Suspect located.” Says the man dressed fully in SWAT gear that stands before him. Ben doesn’t hardly get a chance to do anything before his arm is gripped and the officer is ripping his nearly 200 pound body out into the open and to his feet. “Benjamin Solo, you are under arrest for forgery, burglary, kidnapping, rape and false improsionment.” The man says as he forces Ben to face away from him and locks a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. Ben can only silently sob as the man starts to read out his Miranda Rights. Hearing the long list of things Ben was being arrested for was daunting, mostly because, in his delusional mind, he was innocent. Words like rape, kidnapping, and false imprisonment meant nothing to him. Those were things bad people did, and he wasn’t a bad person. He loved you. If he were a bad person, he wouldn’t love you. 

They turn him around and he sees his bedroom door sitting in pieces on the floor of his room. These people had knocked down his door and forced their way into his room. He felt violated, disturbed that these people would do such a thing to him when all he was trying to do was take care of his family. They walk him out into the hallway, through the living room and out the door where he is once again greeted by a plethora of cop cars and only one ambulance this time. There’s sirens, flashes of red and blue everywhere that quickly overstimulate him and he takes to sobbing again. 

His head hangs low as he walks past his stepsister on the porch who is also cuffed and being interrogated by a regular officer. She begs him to uncuff her and to allow her to call her mother. She screams at him that she’s done nothing wrong and that she’s terrified out of her mind. As the officer is in the middle of explaining to her that she’s cuffed for their safety until he is removed from the premises, Ben catches her eye and she turns all of her attention to him.

“Ben!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, causing ripples to run through his heart and mind. “What did you do, Ben?” She begs for answers as the officer holds her back. His heart breaks for her. Ben knows Rey is innocent and doesn’t deserve the treatment she is receiving. This was one huge misconception. He just has to explain the situation and he’s certain they’ll let him free. He never raped you. He never kidnapped you. He never even intended to harm you. How could he have done such things to his own wife? Once again, he hangs his head in shame. He wants to fight, to beg to be let go but he knows how the police operate. They won’t listen to a word he has to say. He has no choice but to walk.

And the walk was long. They walk him down the steps and down the driveway under the gaze of twenty plus cops and almost all of his old neighbors. He feels ashamed; like this was all just one huge prank being played on him. Like it’s a game and, at any moment, you’re going to pop up and let him know that you were just kidding around. That you loved him and you would never, under any circumstances, put him in a situation like this for real.

But that never happens. 

He’s led to a cop car where, as soon as the door is opened he’s shoved inside without any care in the world. His head hits the barrier that separates him from the driver and for a moment he sees stars in his vision. This was it. He was going to jail. He sits himself straight up and looks out the window to see his neighbors horrified expressions staring back at him. He can’t imagine how they feel looking at the boy they had known for years and years being arrested by SWAT officers. The same is just too much to stomach for him. He turns his head and manages to catch sight of Rey finally being freed from her cuffs, and before he completely checks out from reality manages to read her lips one final time:

What did you do to her?

Chapter Text

The only time Ben had ever interacted with a police station was by watching crime shows on TV. He remembered seeing the stylized booking process, the miserable looking people having their mug shots taken, and then immediately going to a cell after a few cuts. However, this wasn’t a TV show. This was Ben’s reality. The cop car he was sitting in was real. The jail he was being escorted into was real. The ink on his fingers from having his fingerprints taken was real. The flash of the camera going off right in front of his face and temporarily blinding him was real. Perhaps what hurt the most was the hopelessness that created an enormous sinkhole in his chest. The fact that he knew he’d never see you again was real. All too real. It hurt him so much that he tears ran down his face as they took his mugshots. He thought he could take living in a jail, but he didn’t think he could live without you.

Now dressed in an orange jumpsuit with his hands cuffed at the front of his hips, he’s led to an interrogation room. He sits down across from the young woman who has several folders lying across the table. “Good afternoon.” She smiles sweetly at him but he’s so empty and drained that he can only nod his head at her. “Have you been informed of your Miranda rights?” She asks softly. He lifts her eyes to her. The room is so small and for some reason seems to be lit up grey instead of white like a normal room. The chair he’s sitting in is so small he has to hunch over the table. It’s humid. Ben is uncomfortable. His skin crawls as he feels himself starting to sweat. He wants to go home. He wants to crawl into his bed next to you and hold you. But he can’t, because he has to pay attention to the paperwork being shoved across the table to him.

“When you were detained, did the officer read you your Miranda rights?” The small lady asks again, bringing his attention back to the present. He mumbles, nods his head as he takes a look at the packet before him. “Well I’ll just inform you again, since I heard there was a lot going on for you at the time of arrest, okay?” She speaks softly. She reminds him of his mother and, for just a moment, feels solace in her presence. It’s all things Ben had heard before. He has the right to remain silent. He has the right to an attorney. So and and so forth. The words go in one ear and out the other, and when she slips a pen next to his hand and points out several lines, he obediently signs his name. 

“Now, do you want to tell me your side of the story?” She asks him, taking the pen and papers from out in front of him. “At this point you are under arrest, and before we take you for your arraignment tomorrow afternoon we’d like to start the investigation.” Again, silence ticks by and Ben doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t plan on saying anything--lawyer present or not--because he has nothing to say. All he wanted to do was love and take care of you. Now he’s in jail. There is nothing to say to anyone.

“Well, I’d like to know what you think of the charges. Do you feel you are guilty of forgery, kidnapping, rape, and false imprisonment?” Before Ben can think his head nods, and the saddest, quietest ‘no’ comes from between his lips. She smiles crookedly at him, then kindly asks him to explain why.

“Because…”He shakes his head, replaying those words in his head again. Forgery. Kidnapping. Rape. False imprisonment. He would never even dream of hurting you, let alone doing those horrible things to you. He wasn’t a criminal. He wasn’t someone who deserved to be locked up. He was Ben Solo. He was your husband. He doesn’t deserve this. Any of it. “...because I love her.” 

“Because you love who?” She asks, and Ben cuts his eyes at her. Who else does she think he’s talking about? He speaks your name, being sure to change your last name to his. You were a Solo now, there was no denying it. “So, you believe you didn’t rape and kidnap her, hold her hostage, and forge her name on official government documents?” Again, he shakes his head. “So you plan on pleading not guilty during your arraignment?”

“I, I guess so.” He doesn’t fully understand what that means. 

“Okay, Mr. Solo. Why don’t you explain to me how you met her?” She says after stressfully scribbling some notes down on her notepad. 

“Through work.” He retorts, lifting his sleeve to his nose and wiping the snot that threatens to drip from his nose. 

“Was that your work, her work?” 

“Her, work. Her old work. She doesn’t work there anymore.” He says, remembering how he texted your boss and told him you were never coming back. 

“And how did that happen? Did you work there at the time?”

“No. I applied to work there, and she interviewed me.” He thinks the answer is sufficient, but as she goes on and makes him describe your first meeting in more detail, his stress levels rise. Her questions continue and at some point she asks how he knew that you were in love with him during his interview. He doesn’t remember what you said to him that made him think you were in love with him. He just knows. He feels like he’s under attack and he immediately becomes irate, saying things he knows he should have kept private. 

“I realized she loved me when I went to her house and she would leave her panties out for me, okay?” He says while clenching his fists at his thighs. She had asked him several times how he knew she loved him and Ben was growing angrier and angrier. Technically Ben thought your feelings toward him developed when he started stalking your online profiles. But the day he entered your house and found your panties sitting in your sleeping shorts, seemingly set out and waiting for him to snatch up and sniff, he thought for sure that you knew he was coming on a semi-regular basis and that you were leaving him panties because you loved him.

“So you’ve been to her house before you, er, moved in with her?” She asks him, and Ben rolls his eyes. 

“Yes. It’s not like I just showed up the next day and decided to live with her.” At this point, Ben’s fearfulness and uncertainty are manifesting into anger and irritation. He defends himself by becoming stone cold. He can’t look her in the eye and he can’t keep his body still. His fingers fidget. His feet both bounce in turn. His teeth clatter, and he jumps when he accidentally bites his tongue. “Christ!” He says, sticking his shaky fingers in his mouth. When he withdraws them there’s a small spot of blood, and the first thing that comes to his mind is the cut on your arm. His anxiety skyrockets as he realizes he’s been without you for hours now. He doesn’t know how your arm is doing, if they’re taking care of you, or if you’re just as cut up while missing him. You instantly become his number one priority, and he feels he needs to stop the interrogation right away.

“You’re not going to question her like this, are you?” He asks, wiping his blood off of his thumb onto his chest. 

“As of right now, she is being identified as the victim. We’re only taking statements from her.” The woman says as she once again scribbles something on her notepad. 

“Well, you don’t need to interrogate her. Because it’ll stress her out and she’s pregnant. She doesn’t need that stress on her.” The woman suddenly stops what she’s writing and looks up at Ben. Her skin turns pale before his very eyes, and she looks as if Ben told her he killed you with his bare hands.

“You said she’s pregnant? ” She asks, abd Ben reiterates what he said ten seconds ago. He hates that he’s having to repeat himself over and over, or giving her details that he doesn’t want to give. But this detail was important. The last thing he needs is to finally become freed from this nightmare is to find out that his child had died inside of you. “How do you know this?” The woman asks, Ben can only shrug his shoulders.

“She told me.” It’s the only explanation he can offer her. He blinks as he realizes he never had a lightbulb, exciting pregnancy announcement like most partners get. He can remember scrolling through his facebook and seeing the creative ways people announced their pregnancy: Tests hidden in watch boxes, clever announcements from word games and video games, or even just revealing it through their speech. He would have loved for you to have told him when he first walked through the door like some of these other people, but it was impossible. He wished your relationship didn’t have to be so complicated, and he saddens once again as he wished you could have just been happy. He wouldn’t be sitting here being interrogated if you would have just been happy with him.

Ben is made to dig deeper and deeper into your pregnancy. He thinks the woman doesn’t believe him when he tells her he trusted your instincts. Step by step he has to take her through your one year anniversary celebration, then the sex, then humiliating experience trying to get you the Plan B pill. She stares at him in confusion before scribbling something down on her pad again, ensuring him that she would find out if you were pregnant or not.

“No need.” He mumbles. “I know she’s pregnant.” The woman taps her pen on the note pad for a few seconds, staring at Ben like he was an enigma. He didn’t expect to be understood and he didn’t expect for anyone to understand your relationship, but that didn’t mean the over-explaining and deep-diving into the private details of his life and yours didn’t leave him exhausted and uncomfortable. There was silence for a few moments before the woman finally said something that gave Ben hope:

“Alright, Mr. Solo. That’s all I’ll need from you today.” She straightened up her paperwork and stood from the table. “Just wait here for your escort, they’ll let you know what’s next on your agenda, okay?” She smiled weakly at him before stepping across the room and slipped through the door. He was left alone, wondering why she seemed to be so afraid of him. He swallowed as he lay his head down on the table right below the links of his cuffs. No one had to be afraid of him. He wasn’t a criminal. He didn’t belong here. And he can’t help but wonder what would happen if the people hearing his case didn’t understand that. 


Hours later Ben stands in front of his mother, holding a phone with a thick pane of glass in between them. “Mom, I don’t know what that means.” His throat constricts as his tearful mother more or less repeats herself through the black telephone.

“You aren’t eligible for bail, baby. I can’t bring you home with me.” She sniffs, becoming just as emotional as Ben was. He was hopeful that when he was told his mother was here to speak with him she would rescue him from this nightmare. 

“But, but mom. I didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice cracks when he sees his mother wiping her own tears. She’s his mother. She has to believe him!

“These things, Ben. These things they’re saying about you on the news. They’re vile!” 

“They’re not true, mom!” He argues, but through her sobs, it would seem she doesn’t believe him. 

“She, she said you held her down and did unspeakable things to her!” Ben cringes. He did have to hold you down, but it was for your own good!

“They don’t. They didn’t…” He mumbles over his mother’s own tears. “It’s not like that, mom. You just don’t understand!”

“She was trying to get away from you. At the boathouse. She screamed at you in the bedroom, and you told me she had anxiety!”

“Mom, mom, please. I took care of her. When we slept together I always made sure she finished. I fed her, and I bathed her, and I--” Ben feels like he can go on and on about all the good and wonderful things he’s done to you, but his mother is less than impressed.

“Ben! You, you sound like you’re talking about a dog!” His mother shouts, cutting him off and driving a knife straight through his heart.  “Son, I can’t believe you. I can’t believe that you would think it’s acceptable to do such a thing to a woman.” She wipes her eyes with her sleeve, then stares at Ben from the other side of the glass. Her eyes convey a look of seriousness, a look that he’s never seen from his timid mother before. “I am beyond disappointed in you. I thought I raised you better than this.” 

Ben slams the phone down on the receiver on the wall. Never in all of his life had he felt more betrayed. He thought his mother loved him. He thought she would be there for him no matter what. Turns out, all it took was one small misunderstanding for her to turn against him. He turns around and storms off, allowing his own bitter tears to cascade unapologetically down his face. He feels like he’s walking away from his mother, his own blood, for good. He was in this by himself and now only had himself to rely on in this mess. 


Once again, Ben is in handcuffs. He’s led from the communication room where he spoke with his mother to another small room similar to the one he had his first interrogation in. It had been hours since his arrest and he was starting to feel the tiring effects. He was tired. He was hungry. He had been holding his urine since before his arrest, and more than anything he was afraid. He had tried asking a few guards and the person that interrogated him about you and had gotten no response. He asked the person who interrogated him and she told him it was none of his concern. He worried. He stressed. He didn’t know what the immediate future held for him, and all he wanted was his wife and to sleep. They had been keeping him out of the loop for so long, no one told him why he was sitting in this room. He places his head on the desk and closes his eyes. In the dark, he feels more comfortable. In the dark, he can be with you.

“Good evening, Mr. Solo!” Ben is ripped from the extremely light slumber by a startling, thunderous voice. He picked his head up, cracking his neck in the process and looked on at the large, round man that was setting a briefcase down on the table in front of him. “My apologies for the delay. Your father and I had a bit of a miscommunication in the middle of the day and I ended up at the wrong precinct!” The man has too much energy for him. He’s talking too loudly and too quickly for Ben to understand, and his smiling face only upsets Ben even more. “Bradley Randolph. Your father has hired me to represent you.” He holds his hand out to Ben and, weakly, Ben lifts both of his hands to shake his.  

“How are you doing, buddy? Do you need me to get you anything? Something to eat, or drink?” He swallows dryly, wanting to keep his pride and tell him he was fine. But his growling stomach gives his facade away. “I can get you anything you’d like. McDonalds, Burger King, anything you want. I just need you to be coherent and alert as we speak.” Ben blinks. The man was here to help him. He was the only person to have some kind of compassion about Ben’s situation, perhaps he could trust him just this one time.

“Can I just have a slice of pizza?” Ben asks quietly, unable to look him in the eye. 

“Cheese or pepperoni?” 

“Pepperoni.” Flashbacks of his first night with you played in his mind and his heart grows heavy. 

“Something to drink?”  

“Coke.” The man nods his head, assuring Ben that he would return as quickly as he could. Ben’s eyes follow him out the door, feels just a bit of solace when he hears him call out ‘My client hasn’t had anything to eat.’ Maybe, with a lawyer, everything would be okay. He could convince people that Ben did nothing wrong, and he would be reunited with you sooner rather than later. 


His lawyer comes back with a slice of pizza from the Costco down the road. He can smell his pizza the second the door opens, and as soon as it’s placed down in front of it he picks it up with both hands and devours it. Randolph watches him with a smile on his face as he finishes the massive slice of pizza in under five minutes, and when Ben’s sipping on his coke he fishes through his briefcase for a wad of paperwork.

“So, Mr. Solo, I understand that, as a child, you had some issues that required the help of a mental health professional?” Ben swallows and almost immediately breaks out in a cold sweat. His stomach turns inside of him as his childhood memories come flooding back to him. 

“They said I had anxiety.” He defends himself. He had repressed the painful memories of the many doctors he had to see when he was just eight, nine, and ten years old. He was convinced that he was the reason behind his parents’ divorce, because they couldn’t handle having such a nervous child. A child that thought people were always following him. A child that went to bed crying, heaving, and vomiting every night because he was convinced he’d wake to find his parents slaughtered in their bed. As he grew older it got better. The medications he was prescribed over the years helped some, but even after he thought he had returned back to “normal” his parents still split. It took a bigger toll on Ben than he was willing to admit, and while he was with you he was able to forget that part of his life. Up until now. 

“Your father gave me these documents. They said you were diagnosed with night terrors, anxiety, and multiple phobias. Does that sound correct?” Ben nods, feeling his freshly swallowed pizza threatens to travel back up his esophagus. “Well, what I’m thinking the best route would be to have you revaluated, by multiple doctors. I think if we can get a re-diagnosis, or even a new diagnosis, we can have a successful not guilty by way of insanity plea. You won’t go to prison, instead you’ll get the help you need.” 

In an instant, Ben is floored. His fists ball and he feels he’s capable of throwing what remained of his coke at the man. “Are you saying I’m insane?” Ben asks accusingly. “I’m, I’m not insane! I’m not stupid! I am perfectly fine!” He raises his voice, just as he had done to you multiple times. But unlike you, the lawyer sits unmoving with a smile still on his face. 

“I’m not saying anything, Mr. Solo. I’m not qualified to make such assumptions.” He speaks calmly as Ben fumes across the table from him. “But as your lawyer, I am qualified to know that pleading not guilty won’t get you anywhere. There’s no doubt that you raped that woman and held her hostage, forged documents to a marriage that had to be annulled due to the fact that it was nonconsensual on her end. No jury is going to believe that you’re just not guilty. But, from what I’ve seen of your first interview, something more is going on. Something that we can’t see. Something that a psychiatrist would be able to find and treat.” He leans over the table, closer to Ben and his look of professionalism and seriousness intimidates him. “It won’t be a get out of jail free card, but given your condition it will be the best solution.”

Ben still doesn’t understand. How could his fears as a child translate to his relationship today? Was he sick? Did he need professional help? Again, he knows he needs to trust this man, but he feels like he’s being attacked. There was nothing wrong with him. He was just a man that wanted his life back. 

“So. Tomorrow at your arraignment I’ll file a motion of continuance. I’ll ask the judge to allow you to speak to a therapist and a psychiatrist, and then we can go from there. Does that sound fair?” Ben blinks, quietly nods his head in agreeance. He doesn’t understand half of what was just said to him, and the thought of speaking to another therapist again gives him even more anxiety. But, it was for the best. Ben has to keep it in his mind that he wants to help him, wants to make him comfortable and, based on the actions he had done for him today, he wants him to be well.

“Wait, I’ve just got one question, before you leave.” Ben speaks up as he watches the man collecting up his paperwork and getting ready to leave. 

“Sure. Fire away.” He says with a smile. He trusts the man, and he thinks he may just be able to answer his question.

“When can I see my wife again?” The man chuckled, stacked his paperwork in his briefcase and then shut it tightly.

“She’s no longer your wife, Mr. Solo. I told you the marriage was annulled earlier this afternoon.” Ben’s face goes pale. He had never heard the word ‘annulled’ before, but from the context of the sentence he understands that he’s no longer married.

“What, what do you mean?” His voice catches in his throat as the man explains to him what annulment was. All of the hard work, blood, sweat, tears, and money he had put in to being wed was all for nothing. He feels his world crashing down on him, feels his mind beginning to race and he doesn’t know how to react. 

“Oh, and they wanted me to let you know that she isn’t pregnant either.” He starts to step out of the room, but Ben is in the beginning of a volatile rage and he doesn't want the man to leave. He roars as he stands after him, grips the door handle only to find that it’s locked behind him. The only thing he’s capable of saying is the phrase my baby over and over again. What did that mean? Did they take his child away from him? Did they beat you or cause you so much stress that you miscarried? Words and emotions bounce off every wall of his mind. He slams his head against the door as tears pour down his face. It took less than two minutes for his entire world to change. The news of his now failed marriage and non-existent child brings him to his knees. He collapses onto the carpeted floor and buries his face between his bound hands, bawling face down in the carpet. 

He’s hurting. He’s hurting more than he ever did before. And it sounded like he would never have you again to help him heal.

Chapter Text

One year and seven months later, the entire world is shocked beyond belief to hear Ben’s final sentence. The woman with bright red hair stands in the juror's booth holding the verdict and reads it line by line in front of the packed courtroom and all of the cameras who had been broadcasting Ben's trail all over the world since day one. 

“We the jury find the defendant, Benjamin Solo, not guilty by reason of insanity of the charge of rape in the first degree.” Even Ben is shocked by the verdict for his first charge. There’s a collective gasp around him, he hears a sequel and looks over past his lawyer’s head to find you tucking your face into your hands and beginning to sob. Just like every other day of his trial, you were dressed to the nines in a sharp skirt suit with your hair pulled back in a tight bun. A year ago he would have swooned over you and your sharp dress, but things were different now. “We the jury find the defendant, Benjamin Solo, not guilty by reason of insanity of the charge of kidnapping.” And it went on and on. Ben was not guilty of everything he was charged for, and from the reaction from you, the people in the court, the people in Washington, all of America, and around the world, it was not the most ideal outcome.

Since day two in the jail, Ben had been speaking with a psychologist, a psychiatrist, and a therapist. It only took a month and a half to get his “new” diagnosis. Delusional Disorder, erotomanic type. Two disorders that were so rare they were almost nonexistent, and after speaking with a psychologist for a few days Ben learned he was one of two people in the world that had been diagnosed with both disorders at the same time. At first, Ben was so in denial. They told him you didn’t love him and he argued until he could speak no more. What was even worse was when he was told by the various doctors that had examined him that he didn’t love you. He was so floored he refused to even speak to anyone else for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until he was able to speak with a psychotherapist that he began to open up, and it wasn’t until he was put on a mood stabilizer that people got the results they were looking for.

So he stands in the courtroom, numb as a nail. His therapist told him to not expect the insanity plea to work, that it had very little success and to still expect jail time. But it didn’t feel like it was up to him. He knew very little about the justice system and went with what his parents and his lawyers said would give him the best outcome. He didn’t feel delusional. He didn’t feel insane when he was living with you. Even after the medication he was prescribed kicked in, he didn’t feel anything but null and void. He didn’t feel anything, not even his love for you. 

He’s sentenced to treatment in a hospital for an indefinite amount of time. In his mind he thinks it’s preposterous. How could this have been the best outcome for him if his sentence may very well be the rest of his life? As he’s escorted out of the courtroom he finds it hard to be positive or negative. The only thing on his mind is that this was happening to him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Did he want you? Did he want his mother? Did he want to be alone? He didn’t know, and he didn’t think he needed to know. On his way to the van back to the jail, he’s told it would be his last night. Tomorrow he would start treatment in a new environment, and the person escorting him tells him it’s probably going to be better than what he had previously received.


Eight months into his sentence and Ben feels different. His medications had been switched around a few times and he had started lots of new types of therapy. Luckily for him he still gets to speak with his therapist from jail twice a week, and every other therapy session he has he feels positive about. Once a month he gets group therapy with other men and women who suffer from delusions just as he does, and he even once had a session with his mother and father. Though the subjects were always touchy, he felt he left every session learning something new about himself or this diagnosis he was possessed with. 

He did a lot of talking about you. Why he was in love with you. Why you were in love with him. Why he did what he did, and why it was wrong. No matter when the topic was brought up it made him uncomfortable. Even when he was considered to be “stable,” five months down the line, whenever your name was brought up it always made a massive hole appear in his chest. It had been so long since he got to see you. To touch you. To hear you. He missed you, but whenever he told his doctors and therapists that he loved you, he would get the run around. “It’s not realistic, Mr. Solo.” They would say. “If she loved you, you wouldn’t have had to go through such extremes to be with her.” Each and every time it would put him on the verge of tears, but he always kept his composure. The medication had worked to minimize the extremes of his behavior, but in his mind his love for you still burned strong.

He got to see the outrage and disdain people had for him. His stepmother could be heard outside of his door loudly calling him a pervert after his father and step family had visited him with Taco Bell, a meal that had to be approved from all of his doctors and a dietician. After six months in the hospital he realized what he did was wrong and illegal, but nothing, not the media, not the news outlets, not the Facebook groups calling for his death, not his stepmother or his mother or his father, could tell him he didn’t love you. It was something he just couldn’t understand, and he didn’t think he’d ever understand it either. He felt like it was likely that he’d spend his entire life here in the hospital with every person he came in contact with trying to tell him that it was all in his head, and not a day would come when he would believe them.

On the day of his eight month anniversary in the hospital, everything changed dramatically for him. Right after lunch he was taking a supervised walk through the gardens when a call came through his orderly escort’s phone. Ben had a visitor that wanted to meet with him as soon as possible. He thought it was odd to be receiving a visitor at this time of day; his mother or father usually came first thing in the morning when they wanted to visit. Nevertheless, he was escorted to the visitor's center where he sat down at one of the tables and waited for his family to show up. He sat and waited, and waited, and waited, but nobody showed up. He took a look around, eyed the security guards and the other patients speaking with their families and wondered why he had been brought here. His escort told him it was urgent and someone needed to speak with him as soon as he could, yet there was no one there.

His confusion dissipated after a moment when the chair in front of him finally squeaked, and when he looked up he was faced with someone he had never met. He was a man in a sharp black suit that carried a briefcase with him. Due to his recent past, he had come to realize that this man could be a lawyer, but he didn’t know why he’d have to speak with a different lawyer when he already had one actively working on his case.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Solo.” He said, unbuckling his suitcase without actually looking at him. Ben nods his head. He had become suspicious of strangers during his hospitalization and didn’t want to be speaking with this man. “My client had requested a meeting with you, and after going through all the correct channels, speaking with your family, your team of doctors and lawyers, was denied a face to face meeting with you.” Ben watched his busy hands rummage through his briefcase until he pulled out a manilla envelope, to which he began fishing through that. “I believe that was for the best, but they were adamant about this handwritten letter making it into your hands.” After a moment the man apparently found the letter he was looking for, pulling it sharply out of the yellow folder and handing it smoothly to Ben. He looked over the front and oogled over the beautiful script that had been used to write out the address:


To my rapist, my captor, and my husband by force: Ben Solo.


His blood immediately runs cold when he realizes exactly who had written this letter. It was you. You had taken the time to write a letter and, according to this man, had wanted to sit here and speak to him face to face. The words hurt him. Even though everyone who had come into his life within the last few years had made him understand that he had hurt you and that he wasn’t innocent like he had previously thought, it still hurt him to hear his own charges. His heart pounds in his chest as he slides his thumb under the glue and breaks open the envelope, being careful not to rip any of your words by accident. He can’t imagine what you’d be writing him for. Everyone he came in contact with was adamant when they said he had wronged you; he never expected to hear from you ever again. Regardless, he pulls the thick piece of computer paper out and unfolds it to find it full of even more beautiful handwritten words. 


Dear Ben,

I’m writing to you with the help of my friends and family and my therapist. They’ve all heard my concerns and we all agreed that writing you a letter would satisfy my personal needs of closure, and it would be the next step in my own process of healing what you’ve done to me. 

I should start by saying what you did to me was unforgivable. For the first two months I couldn’t talk to anyone about what you put me through without breaking into tears. Even to this day, it’s not easy to open up to my parents, my brothers, and even my therapist about the hell you put me through for those 20 days. In the last two years, I’ve received more diagnoses about my mental health than I have in my entire life. And it’s all because of you.

I don’t know why you chose me for your victim. Actually, really, I don’t really want to know why. But if I had to go back and do it all over to prevent another innocent woman from suffering at your hands, I would do it no questions asked. I was hoping you’d be jailed for life, but instead you get this . People in my life tried to assure me hospitalization is just as bad, if not worse, than jail time, but for some reason I can’t believe that. 

They told me you were ill. They told me you had some disorder and you didn’t understand that when you heard me scream, when you had to hold me down and force me to sleep with you, that you were raping me. Or that not allowing me to see my friends and go to work meant you were holding me hostage. Is that true, Ben? Did you really believe that you were doing to me was normal?

Try as I might, with as much encouragement as I’m getting from every angle of my support system to do what I and nobody else thinks is right, I can’t forgive you for what you’ve done to me. You’ve single handedly torn my life to shreds. You disregarded and disrespected my dead husband by putting on his clothes and throwing him out of my home. The day after I was rescued I organized an estate sale and started the process of selling my house because there was no way I’d ever be able to set foot in that house of horrors ever again. I’m working to become more independent, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same after what you’ve done to me.

I guess you’re wondering why I’m writing you this letter and why I wanted to hand deliver it to you. I can’t seem to find closure until I’ve confronted you one last time. I needed to see with my own eyes that you were locked up, unable to get out and hurt me again. (I’m sure you can imagine that you’ve given me trust issues.) I need to tell you one last time before I expel you from my life for good, that what you did to me hurt me more than you could ever imagine. I was never your wife. I will never have your children. I don’t love you. I never loved you. I never will love you. 

A small part of me hopes that you will be able to get the help you need here, that you will be able to heal just as I am trying to, but I sincerely hope you never see the light of day again so you may never get the opportunity to hurt anyone else like you’ve hurt me.

So this is where I say goodbye to you, Ben Solo. I wish I could say I could forget about you and our past together, but that’s not possible given what you’ve put me through. Please don’t write me back. I don’t want to hear from you ever again.

At the very end of the letter, you signed your name, and when he lowered the letter with his shaky hands he found the lawyer was gone. It was like he had vanished into thin air, and it wasn’t what Ben needed. His thoughts were scattered in all kinds of directions. What was the appropriate reaction to all of this? He had so many questions and no one to answer them, and he recognizes this panic as something he needed help to work through. He stands up, ready to run to one of the guards and ask to be taken to see his therapist, but at the last second something catches his eye.

A flash of yellow toward the entrance of the large meeting room holds his attention for long enough to see you walk from one end of the door to the other, and he’s able to see you shake hands with the man he had just sat down with. He’s able to study your profile for a few seconds before the lawyer pulls you a little bit further past the door, and then all he’s able to see is the end of your dress. 

A pit in his stomach grows as he contemplates what to do. The security guards couldn’t stop him if he ran and comforted you, wrapped his arms around you and begged for your forgiveness. He wants to. Every fiber, every cell, and every nerve of his body tells his feet to start moving, but as he stares at the hem of your dress logic kicks in. Every single session he’s had with his doctors and therapists hits him at once, and he remembers that it isn’t real. He clutches the letter tight in his hands. He was literally delusional. You didn’t love him, and the final sentence of your letter states you never wanted to hear from him again. He fights back his tears. Even though he knows you don’t love him, it doesn’t stop him from loving you. He knows what you truly need is for him to leave you alone. If you saw him, you would be afraid. You would probably cry, and he doesn’t want to see you cry anymore. 

The only thing he can do is sit there and watch you until the hem of your dress disappears. This time, he knows you’re going to be gone for good. The only thing he has left of you are his painful memories and this letter. He stares down at it, at the dried water marks that have diluted and smudged some of the words you had written. You cried while you wrote it. You cried while thinking of him. He had ruined you, and now he would never have a way to properly apologize. Or to tell you he loves you one last time. 

His grip relaxes on the letter as one final crude thought rushes through his mind. He feels he deserves to be selfish one last time if he were never going to hear from you again. He closes his eyes, and in front of everyone in the meeting room, in front of the visitors, patients, guards and anyone else who so happens to be there, he lifts the letter to his nose and inhales as deeply as he possibly can.

The letter does not smell like you.