Lee Kerr - Welcome to the Apocalypse

He turns towards me and punches me in the face, before jumping up and grabbing at his head and rubbing his eyes, like he’s trying to make sense of this as much as I am. ‘What a lie! You and I both know that no one is coming. Have you not seen the shit-storm out there?’

I shake my head as I try to make sense of where the pain is coming from, whilst tears flow freely down my cheeks. ‘Please let us go and I promise I’ll give you money.’

His thick hand is suddenly around my throat as he pushes hard against my skin. ‘Oh, I bet you can. All you fuckers have now is your money. You live your lives of debauchery and promiscuity while the rest of society goes to hell, and then you think it is your money that will save you.’ He pushes harder, forcing the back of my head deeper into the soft fabric of the sofa. ‘Why should people like you survive all that’s coming?’

‘No, we’re just like you,’ I say, as he releases my grip a little. ‘We won the lottery. We’re collecting our winnings tomorrow. We can split it with you, I promise.’

He grabs my arm, and a knife appears from nowhere. ‘You’re nothing like me,’ he says and slices my pale flesh like it’s raw chicken on a board.

I scream out before the pain even registers in my mind. It’s not long before he has me pinned close to the sofa, his hand around my throat again. ‘When you get that money I already see what you two will become. You’ll join them – the ranks of the so-called elite. You new-money people are even more clueless than the wealthy fuckers out there now, earning all those bonuses just for screwing over the little guy.’

I try to shake my head, hoping that this will allow me to take in some air. I look at his name badge again and I wonder why the manager of a hotel is doing this.

He catches me looking and laughs. ‘I’m not Robert. The last time I saw him he was slumped in his chair with blood flowing out of his neck and down to his shiny boots and his immaculate beige carpet. A fitting end for a tool of capitalism, don’t you think? He will no longer do his masters’ bidding – keeping you people in a state of luxury that you don’t deserve, whilst the rest of us fight in the arena of the real world.’ He pulls a sock out of his pocket and stuffs it into my mouth as my answer; my pleading and begging seem of no interest to him. He pushes it down deeper until my mouth is filled with the tinge of iron.

‘Sorry about the blood, but I didn’t think Robert would need these anymore.’ He leaps up and looks down at me, his face calm, and the knife still in his hand. ‘Now, you stay there and observe. If you play nicely I will end you quickly, just as soon as we finish making love.’

It’s too much to imagine, too much pain to endure after a lifetime of regrets, and so I scream out, my hands pulling at his sock until welcome air fills my lungs.

I see the rage swell in his eyes as he quickly leans back down and punches me. He hits me again and again until I stop moving. I sit quietly this time, letting him stuff the sock back in my mouth without resisting, as he uses the other one to bind my hands together. I don’t dare fight back and I don’t even think about the end that will come. I think only of Antonio and how, at any cost, I must get out of here and find my way back to him.

The man soon leaves me and makes his way to the bed. I watch my husband as he registers the weight of someone else next to him, and then starts wriggling and struggling. He runs the cold blade up Stan’s thigh and around his wrinkly testicles, making the sounds coming through the mask even more desperate. I know this is a scream like no other; nothing like any of the noises I have ever heard him make. I have helped my husband become primal many times, his wildest kinks simply a mindless chore for me, but I have never before heard a noise like this.

Our intruder lets out a laugh, and I realise that he has been observing me as I watch my husband. ‘I think you both enjoy this.’

I shake my head, desperately trying to tell him that I am not enjoying this, and that I have never enjoyed these moments. I think back to the hundreds of times I have been forced to tie him up, as tight as I possibly can, making escape near impossible. I remember the countless whines and moans he would make as I worked his cock to a climax, always making sure none of it hit me. Then I would quietly release a restraint, always just one, leaving the rest to him as I retire to a long, lonely bath. I thought that life was nearly over for me, but now it’s on show for someone else to see, someone who believes I actually got happiness from it. I think of those decades of silent bitterness, always hoping for escape, always held back by having no money.

‘I shouldn’t be cruel, your husband clearly has some needs,’ he says, putting the knife down next to one of Stan’s legs.

My heart starts to slow down, just a little. He seems to relax; his movements with the blade become just that little less sinister. He starts to run his finger down Stan’s chest, first teasing his nipples and then ending on his belly button. He plays with Stan’s floppy cock and strokes his hairy, grey pubes as if it’s just the two of them, together in this new nightmare. I soon realise that he’s doing a better job than I have done in the last couple of decades. I huff, almost involuntarily, when I see his cock jerk. Only Stan, my pathetic husband, could eventually get some kicks out of this.

‘I think he likes it,’ the man says, grinning over at me.

I don’t say anything but sure enough, Stan’s cock grows and I see him reach his lowest point in all our long years together.

The man seems absorbed in this moment, giving my husband all the attention he has lacked from me since the day he first brought home the harnesses that would chain me as much as they would him. I silently watch, forced to endure all of Stan’s moans and noises. He’s not really here anymore and I know that it no longer matters who has hold of him. His dark world is a simple one; a few sensations and the power of his imagination are all he needs to get off now.

‘Is that it?’ the intruder asks, his hand enveloping the entire girth of my man.

I say nothing, thinking only about Antonio, thinking about how even in Stan’s youth he was nothing compared to the man I have now, the one I desperately need to find and keep.

‘Is it?’ he shouts, pulling Stan’s cock as he makes his demands of me.

I make my muffled ‘yes’ through the fabric that still restrains me, as I look at what is presented before me and realise how much more I could have had.

‘Would you like it now?’ he says, grinning over at me.

I shake my head, not wanting to imagine him forcing me to grind up and down on Stan’s body as he gets his kicks. I know how that will go, how quickly it will be over, and how the man will inevitably decide that I need far more than my husband can give me.

‘Oh, I think you do,’ he says, pulling Stan’s cock up as much as it will go, forcing his body to lift up with it, his bum rising just a little up off the bedsheets.

I shake my head again but I don’t think he’s listening. He’s not interested in what I want.

‘I’ll give it to you,’ the man says, his eyes wild. He grabs the blade with his other hand and with one quick slice he cuts Stan’s cock clean off. He throws it over to me, the thing I have held so many times now detached from the real world, and sitting on my lap.

I hear fresh cries from Stan travel through all his boundaries; the longest and darkest scream that comes from this new, harsh reality. There is nothing he can do; blood spurts out of the gaping wound. The man screams too, and as a haze comes over me I realise that what I can see on his face is pure delight, as he watches the blood that is quickly draining out of my husband cover his clothes.