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Author's Note: I've been writing all my life. But this is my first try at erotic fiction. I wanted to do something kind of different (we all hope what we write is "different," don't we?). It's 100% fiction, but it is inspired by a real break up. It was also inspired in some way by Jack Ketchum's "The Girl Next Door." I read it a few months ago, and at first was turned on by the girl being tied up in the basement. But as her torture got worse and worse (and explicit in some cases), I grew more and more uncomfortable. I wanted to touch on what happens when fantasy becomes nightmare.
Update (09/16/11): This is the second part of the story I sent in a couple of months ago. I think there's 5 parts, but we'll see. Maybe this is the end?
She wasn't smiling when she presented the big red ballgag. Hours later, he'd wish he'd taken that lack of humor as a warning sign. But love is blind, and when the woman you love (and, on occasion, worship) has your hands and elbows tied tightly behind your back and proceeds to take out a new toy that she'd always said she didn't particularly care for ("I don't really like 'hardware')... well, you'd do just about anything she asked. Smile or not.
And he did love her. God, how he loved her.
He started to speak, then thought better of it. Although "thought" was fading quickly into that serene and peaceful place... the place where there was nothing in the whole world but her... Her... where he was free from all the troubles of the world and worries of life, safely bound and helpless and in her care.
She must've seen that brief moment when he almost spoke, because she sprang on him with a ferocity that turned him on and and made him sigh and close his eyes. Quickly and forcefully she slammed the big red ball into his mouth, and held it there for a few moments, staring deeply into his eyes. Taking him in. She'd said once that she loved doing these things to him because she loved the way he looked at her in these moments. "With such love."
She lingered another second before circling behind him, then, with only a hint of a fumble, tightly strapped and buckled the ballgag into place. He loved the way it felt, and loved it infinitely more when she reached around from behind him and put her hand over the gag, using her other arm to pull him close against her body.
Then she was gone. She seemed to love that, as well. The "hit and run;" the touch and tease, then abrupt stop. It drove him crazy, and that was fine by both of them. When she reappeared in front of him a few moments later (and by now he was so enraptured with her that his heart skipped a beat when she reappeared after only seconds away), she had his collar and leash in her hand. He was breathing heavy now, eyes half open, feeling somewhere between drunk and Heaven. He still couldn't believe she'd bought these things for him. When he'd mentioned that he'd thought a collar and leash were cool a few months back, he'd been shocked when she grabbed her car keys and said, "let's go." She'd had an incredible calm self assurance while leading him by the hand into the pet store. She'd asked him which collars he liked, but he could only stand and stammer. He'd wanted to answer but had become nearly crippled with self-consciousness. And so finally she picked the collar she liked best. Which was fine by him.
Now she put the collar on him, and buckled it to it's tightest (she hadn't liked how loose it'd originally been, so she'd spent a few minutes making new holes so it fit nice and snuggly). Again she looked into his eyes... and again, he realized only much later... he hadn't liked what he saw. She was turned on, for sure. But here was also a sadness there... pity.
And then the moment was gone. She turned her back to him and pulled on his leash for him to follow. They were headed for her garage, a place they'd never taken their kinky fun. His thoughts raced; he knew she had some racks on the wall that they'd joked about before... how nicely they'd work in keeping his arms tied above him. But instead she lead him to the back of her car, left him there while she opened her drivers side door... and popped the trunk.
His knees actually buckled.
By now he was as turned on as he'd ever been. They'd talked about this kind of thing, too. And she had shown herself to be bold and creative. But still... he was shocked. "Come on, slave. Get in." She grinned an evil sideways grin; his eyes darted back and forth, not really sure if he was ready to take this step. "Oh, stop. You know you want this. Now get your ass in the trunk!" She shoved him. Not hard enough to knock him over, but hard enough for him to struggle with his balance. Without much of a fight, he did as he was told and climbed into the trunk.
"Your favorite thing," she said, as she grabbed a roll of duct tape from the trunk and held it up in front of him. She leaned in close to his face, the duct tape held between her eyes and his. Still with the evil half-grin, she ever so slowly grabbed at the loose end of the tape and made the smallest of tugs. Then she tugged again. And again. Slowly pulling it from the roll, making that loud ripping sound that turned him on so much. Then she just laughed, a pleasant and knowing laugh, and quickly began to tape up his legs. First at the ankles, then just above his knees. When she was done, she cinched the tape between his ankles and attached them to his wrists, which she also cinched with tape. Hogtied, ballgagged in his girlfriend's trunk...
He looked up at her, as she looked down at him. He was in Heaven and she was everything to him. He looked at her with gratitude and love and wanted nothing more than what he had at this moment. He moaned into his gag, unintentionally. It was a moan of longing and submissive happiness. He made an innocent puckering of his lips, desperate for just one kiss... and then was in total darkness as she slammed the trunk shut.
The ride wasn't quite what he expected (and he'd get used to "not what I expected" very shortly). The dark he liked... but, man!, was it bumpy! Every time she hit any kind of uneven pavement, let alone a pothole, he would bounce helplessly about the trunk. He tried his best to protect himself, but she had him tied pretty well. He supposed if he really HAD to, he could probably work his way free. But, really... why would he want to do that?
The ride seemed to go on forever; it didn't take long for him to lose track of time. Despite the bouncing, he found himself dozing for short periods of time (seconds?). Which was wonderful, because it was an intense turn-on to wake up and have those few seconds where he didn't quite remember how he had gotten bound and gagged. It made it all seem so... real.
Real. Sometimes he had a problem with believing any of this was real. He often felt that good things never happened to him. But Sarah... Sarah was real. She was, easily, the best thing that had ever happened to him. Smart, sexy, fit... kind, thoughtful, challenging. She was everything he'd ever wanted and so much more. And perhaps best of all, she surprised him.
When they'd first gotten together, he'd been having a rough time of it. Recently divorced and having been through a disastrous relationship with a magnetic but taxing bipolar girl, he hadn't really been ready for a new relationship. Sad, hurt, jaded and cynical, Sam probably should've taken some time to get his life together.
But he'd met Sarah, and she'd wanted to be with him so badly. In a sense, she had saved him. Saved him from the self-imposed misery and self-pity he was wallowing in. Made him trust and feel alive again. And the sex had been amazing. The best he'd ever had, and probably just because he'd never connected with a woman on the level he'd connected with Sarah. Perhaps best of all, she accepted his kinks. Growing up, it'd always been a source of confusion and shame. His marriage hadn't changed those feelings much.
His wife would indulge him; she'd tie him up, follow his script, do the best she could. But she was unimaginative and lacked any real desire to play. She had loved Sam, and had done it only out of that love. Over the years, she came to resent that it was the only way she could turn him on. And it took the break-up for Sam to realize that he hadn't been that attracted to her; that the games they played were a sad replacement for the passion he would later find with Sarah.
When they had met, Sam had gone into it with his mind firmly made up to never tell her about his kinky likes. He really liked Sam from the get go, but there was no way he was going to jeopardize such a promising relationship by revealing how fucked up he was. And sex with Sarah had been good. Very, very good. He felt like he would've been content to have nothing but "vanilla" sex with her his whole life.
But the truth has a way of coming out. When they'd made love, Sam found he couldn't resist. It just came natural. He was pulling her hair. Grabbing her wrists. Gently tugging her wrists behind her, when she'd be on top. It took all his willpower not to put his hand over her mouth, because he had enough sense to realize that'd be taking it just a little too far. One day, sitting and watching some crime drama on TV that featured the serial killer of the week's victim bound and gagged, she'd made some kind of comment about "is that why you like bondage so much?" He avoided the subject, mortified.
About a week later, after a fun night out drinking, they'd been having passionate sex when Sarah whispered in his ear "do you want to tie my wrists?" Sam was mortified again. Of course he wanted to tie her wrists... and here she was asking HIM to do it, instead of him trying to decide if he should bring it up some day. But all his old feelings of shame and guilt were right there on the surface... and the fear that she'd reject him if she knew. But... again... she was asking HIM.
"I think I have some handcuffs around here somewhere," he'd said.
"I don't really like 'hardware,' she replied. "I have a tie that goes with one of the shirts I brought over. We could use that."
He thought again.
"Get it," he'd said.
From there, things went from great to amazing. They'd talked about things, and Sam slowly began to tell her everything. She was almost dismissive. "Oh, that's it?" A "what's the big deal" kind of attitude that was in no way cruel; instead it was meant to reassure. She'd made him feel normal, made him feel accepted. Loved.
As the weeks and months went on, they played more and more, seamlessly integrating all manner of play into their sex lives. Sometimes it was straight sex, no kink at all. And those times were still wonderful. But when ribbons from the local craft store came into play, or some duct tape... it took things to a new level. He loved to tie her up, and she was incredibly sexy to him bound and gagged. But his submissive side always seemed to want to come out, and more and more he found himself being tied. She took to that role beautifully. Sometimes she'd be self conscious about it. Question herself. But they always talked through it.
Her playing the dominant role only strengthened his love for her. He'd always tended to obsess over the object of his eye, ever since puberty grew into high school. He'd want whoever he currently obsessed over, wanted her with all his heart, thinking about nothing else but her. Worship her from afar. Now, for the first time ever, he was allowed to worship up close. It was an incredible, liberating feeling.
God, how he loved her.
The car stopped, breaking him free of his reverie. He'd been lost in thought, drifting wonderfully free, smiling despite the ballgag. Suddenly he was alert again, and his curiosity kicked into overdrive. He heard and felt her car door open. Then close. He couldn't hear her footsteps, but he imagined he could. He waited for the trunk to pop open, but for a few minutes, it didn't. A note of disease came over him, but he quickly dismissed it. He trusted her, and so he embraced the anticipation.
Minutes passed. Finally, he heard and felt her car door open again, followed by the starting of the car. There was a rumble that took him only a moment to recognize as an electric garage door opener, and he realized that they had returned to her house. The car moved forward briefly, then stopped again, followed by the sound of the garage door once again. Then the car stopped, and he heard the pop of the trunk.
The trunk sprang open and the light from the garage immediately blinded him. He closed his eyes tightly and never got a chance to see her, as a strip of duct tape was placed firmly over his eyes. He felt her roughly grab his legs and begin cutting away the tape that bound his wrists to his ankles, then the tape that bound his lower legs. Next he felt a strong tug on his collar. He clumsily pulled his legs over the ledge of the trunk, standing awkwardly, using his bound hands to brace himself against the car.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Mm-hmm," he mumbled through the ballgag.
He felt another tug from the collar and leash as she guided him around the car. He heard a door open, and was led through it, before hearing it close again. It was then that he realized something wasn't quite right. Her house had stairs leading up from the garage. There had been no stairs.
His excitement spiked once again, delighted at the intrigue and mystery of it all. He was led a few more steps, before she ordered him, "lay down here." He did, onto a thin but not uncomfortable carpet. Then his legs were taped again from his knees to his ankles and reattached to his wrists.
Without warning the duct tape was ripped from his eyes. He blinked briefly before his eyes focused on the woman sitting on a chair in front of him... and gasped when he realized it was not Sarah. She was striking. Tall, raven black hair, with a hard but immensely amused smirk that was not quite a smile. She had on a tight black long sleeve shirt and equally tight black jeans, with the highest heeled boots he'd ever seen.
That word popped in his head again, as it often did when Sarah played out his fantasies. He was shocked, in awe, and would've been speechless even without the gag. Sarah was a pretty conservative woman, which was why she was able to constantly surprise him in the bedroom. But this... whatever was happening... this was almost too shocking to believe.
Sam couldn't see Sarah, but he could feel her standing over him. The raven haired woman looked up, away from him, and began regarding Sarah. There was a look of expectancy on her face, and then what seemed like... sympathy?
"Go ahead, honey. Just get it done, " she said to Sarah, gently.
Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. He wondered what just happened, when Sarah scrunched down in front of him.
And she was crying.
Sam's natural protective instincts kicked in. He mumbled a "honey?" from his ballgag and tried unsuccessfully to sit up. Sarah saw the concern on his face, and her head tilted as her hand went to her mouth. Her other hand stroked his face as she said mournfully, "oh, baby."
He muffled a "what's wrong" and a "what's happening" as he began to struggle uncomfortably against his bonds. Finally, with her tears now streaming freely, she spoke.
"I'm so, so sorry to do this, baby. You know... I DO love you. And I know we don't fight tooth and nail... but we do fight. We just can't seem to get on the same page. I know you like to spend a lot of time with me, and I just need more space than that. And our schedules are too different, and..." she seemed to be searching for the words, trying to decide if she should go on. She glanced over her shoulder at the lady Sam had already completely forgotten about, and she nodded sadly.
"I don't think this is a viable relationship."
His eyes grew wide. "What?" he tried to say, instead coming out mostly as an extended "wha" sound. He continued to try to speak, because that's what you do when your love is breaking up with you; you speak. You beg, you plead, you put your best argument forward, your most convincing reasons why she might be making a terrible mistake. Only he couldn't, because he was gagged. And suddenly, this was no longer a fact that turned him on. It was horrible.
"Look," she continued. "This is really hard for me. And I knew you'd try to talk me out of it, and I made up my mind weeks ago. I was afraid I wouldn' t have the guts. You're so sweet; it breaks my heart to hurt you." He could tell by the look in her eyes that it did hurt her. There had never been anything phony about Sarah, and that didn't seem to be changing now. "A few months ago I was looking into local dominatrixes. Just for fun, trying to learn some stuff, some things we could do, some ways to make you happy. And I came across Mistress Julia here. One of the 'services' she offered is called 'break-up recovery.' She-"
At this Sam began violently pulling at his bonds, yelling at her to stop through his gag. His adrenaline was pumping and he wanted to be free right now. With all his strength he tried to wrench his wrists apart... with all the leverage he could muster, using all the strength in his shoulders and legs he tried to pull free of his hogtie. But there was no give. None at all. For the first time in his life, after years and years of fantasizing about being tied up... he was. He was truly in bondage. And it was the worst, most frustrating experience he could have ever imagined.
Sarah looked back again over her shoulder at Mistress Julia. Again she nodded, this time a little more firmly. Sarah turned again to Sam, whose angry pleas had suddenly turned to desperation. "Oh, Sam, please don't look at me that way. This is SO hard. But I committed to doing this. And I figured since I was doing it anyway, I might as well give you this final gift. Mistress Julia here is going to take you. Just for the weekend. She says she does this all the time; she's going to help you ease into the transition. She says if the weekend goes well, maybe you could even stay on as her slave." Sarah seemed to brighten hopefully at this idea. For most of his life, this would have been a fantasy too good to be true. Now it was nothing but a fucking nightmare he couldn't do anything to stop.
He began weeping uncontrollably. Begging her not to do this.
"Oh, baby, please don't cry-"
"Okay, okay, sweetie. That's enough, "Mistress Julia stood up and walked over to Sarah. She put her hand on her shoulder, and Sarah looked up at her. "I told you this wasn't going to be easy for either of you. But you've said what needed to be said. Anything more will just prolong his pain. You owe it to him to let go now. Let me take care of him now. You've done right. I'll take good care of him. I promise."
"But... are you sure-"
"Yes, sweetie. I've done this before. It's never easy, but you've done as well as anyone else has. And I'm telling you that it's time to let go. And go. You don't even have to say goodbye if you don't want to. Just go."
There was a heavy pause that hung in the air, that seemed to last forever. Sam was holding his breath, his heart and mind still desperately hoping this was somehow a joke, a trick. His frustration still unbelievable, as his world was ending completely outside of his control.
And then Sarah did go. Just like that. She stood up and ran out of the room.
Just like that, she was gone.
After everything. All the love in his heart. All the hope in the world. How long he'd waited for her, for "her." Ten minutes ago he was in Heaven. Now what was happening to him was beyond his ability to comprehend. His life was over. His world was over. He knew this was no exaggeration. Not for him, not for the way he was.
Just like that.
She was gone.
How he'd always desired it, in his fantasies. And now here real was, and he didn't want it. He wanted to be untied, to be free. To go after Sarah and talk to her, beg her. And failing that... to find a quiet corner to roll up into a ball. But he couldn't. His girlfriend, the love of his life, had made a truly bizarre decision that baffled him. He understood it on some level, but it still smacked of betrayal. Of an easy way out. Yes, it hurt her to break up with him. Of that he was sure. And he was also sure that she really thought "giving" him to a dominatrix would be fun for him. But he also knew that now she didn't have to face him; that she could avoid the confrontation of a tear-filled break-up. And he kind of felt he at least deserved that.
No, this wasn't real. It was surreal. All his fantasies reduced to a nightmare. He loved being tied up. He never imagined this scenario, where he was completely bound and wanted to be free.
Mistress Julia sat on the floor next to his face and spoke.
"I'm really sorry about this, sweetie. I know how hard it is. But we'll have fun, I promise. And maybe you won't forget her completely, but you will forget her for at least this weekend. And that will only help you going forward, proving that you CAN get over her. It'll give you strength. And besides... I do think you're kind of cute. What your girlfriend told me about you... you have potential. Maybe you'll even want to stay longer. And maybe I'll let you. We'll have to see, though."
Sam stared at her. He heard every word, but it was like overhearing a conversation from two rooms away. Like his mind was two sentences behind what she was saying. He tried to speak to her now, with all his sounds muffled through the ballgag. But if he was slow enough, he felt like he could be understood.
"Look, Miss Julia. Could you please-"
"Shhhhhh," she interrupted. "There are rules here. I know you didn't come here voluntarily, but we both know you understand who is in charge. So just-"
Sam began to scream and thrash about, backing Mistress Julia away. All his earlier desperation was magnified by 10, this time the frustration overshadowed by rage. "Fuck this!" he thought. Rage bordering on panic, a NEED to be free NOW. He pulled again at his bonds, at the duct tape binding his wrists and elbows, his ankles and knees. With all his strength and more he pulled, bellowing into the ballgag. And with a snap that surprised everyone in the room, the tape that hogtied his wrists to his ankles was broken and his feet came smashing to the floor.
The adrenaline subsided in that moment; at first Sam felt triumphant. His struggled had started to free him. But then he noticed Mistress Julia laughing at him.
"Hahaha! Oh, that was fucking fantastic! Wow. I didn't think you had it in you. Such a small and weak little man, and you managed to almost break free. I was right. You do have potential."
Sam thought he knew what being in shock felt like now. He was overwhelmed, his mind racing so fast he couldn't keep a single thought. Mistress Julia sat down next to him, leaning against the couch. She pulled him to her, leaning his back against her front, his bound hands up against her legs and his head against her breasts. She began to rub his head.
"Shhhhh. There there. Relax. This won't be so bad."
Sam was drained, but couldn't bring himself to a point where this situation was okay. It felt... gross. Unclean. He felt gross. He didn't want this, not now. Maybe not ever again.
"Pease (please). I jus wanna go home."
"Awww. Not gonna happen, sweetie. Sorry. But look, I do need something from you. I have this contract here," she produced a piece of paper. "I know it's hard with your hands tied, but I need you to sign it. Initial it at least. All it says is that you have consented to be my slave for the weekend. Standard stuff, just to be cautious."
Sam tilted his head and looked up at her with confusion. "Are you fucking serious," he tried to say, and apparently Mistress Julia was a pro at understanding gagged men, because she looked sternly into his eyes and said, "yes, slave, I'm quite serious."
"No fucking way."
She sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that. Look, everyone signs in the end. And everyone, 100% of the people I've done this with, have thanked me in the end. Enthusiastically. Most want to stay longer, or come back again. I promise you'll enjoy it. So just give it a chance. What do you say, sweetie?"
Sam sighed, too. She was sending mixed messages, but Sam let his guard down for a minute and allowed his mind to slow down and open. But almost immediately, Sarah's face came into his head and he knew he just couldn't do it. Just couldn't be here.
"I'm sorry, but no. Please just untie me."
"Here, let's try this first." Before Sam knew what had happened, a clear plastic bag had been brought down over his head. His eyes bulged in surprise, his body tensing again, beginning to once again test his bonds. He began to ask what she was doing when he felt her hand stick the end of a roll of duct tape to his neck and begin wrapping it around.
"You've got about a minute, maybe two. Of air. Before you pass out. So what do you say. Sign it?"
"What the fuck?!"he tried to say, even more muffled than before. His struggles grew desperate almost immediately, taking up air faster than if he'd been able to stay calm. He thrashed about, but Mistress Julia wrapped her legs around his body and held him firmly with her arms.
"Sign it?" she calmly asked.
Sam struggled, but was helpless. He was in a panic. The bag was getting tighter and tighter with each inhale. Each inhale was coming quicker and quicker. He instinctively tried to shake his head around, trying to shake the bag off. But it was pointless, hopeless.
He tried to scream, but with the air quickly fading, it was hard.
"Sign it?" calmly, again.
The bag was now tight against his face. No air left. His lungs burnt, and he was terrified. He began to nod is head vigorously, desperately. "Yes!" he tried to say, but it was impossible with no air.
And just like that, there was air, as Mistress Julia ripped open the bag in front of his nose and mouth.
Sam gasped wildly,a deep and wonderful breath. He was exhausted.
"I have a confession to make," Mistress Julia said, in a monotone that struck Sam as strange. "Your pretty little girlfriend is an idiot. Contract? Ha."
Sam heard the duct tape being pulled from the roll again.
"It's true, I have had many like you before. But the fact is... they don't usually leave."
She attached the duct tape to his mouth, over the ballgag, and began winding it around his head.
"Actually. They NEVER leave."
She kept wrapping the duct tape, within seconds completely covering the ballgag, his mouth, his chin.
"Oh, sure. I make money as a dominatrix. It's a perfect cover."
Sam was wide eyed. Almost hypnotized by this new turn of events. Still she kept wrapping, now covering his eyes.
"But the truth is... I fucking love killing little shits like you. Nothing turns me on more."
The tone of her voice... Sam was sure. She was getting off on this. She kept wrapping as she talked, and Sam recognized his next thought as absurd. "Won't taking this duct tape off hurt?"
Mistress Julia was no longer speaking, instead moaning and grinding against him, as she continued to wrap the tape around his head. Without slowing down, without hesitating, she wrapped the tape over his nose, completely sealing him in. And still she kept wrapping. And wrapping. And wrapping.
Sam was in the dark. Blind, mute and unable to breath. His body was tensed. There was no panic now, but there was no pleasure, either. "What a stupid, pointless way to die," he thought. And as Mistress Julia continued to get off on him, continuing to wrap and wrap his head in layer upon layer of duct tape, Sam's last thought was of Sarah. And how epically she had betrayed him.
And how much he loved her anyway.
Part II (added: 09/16/2011)
A hard and cold splash of water, like a slap in the face, forced Sam to breath. He inhaled deeply and involuntarily, all instinct and no thought. It took only a split second to remember the nightmare he was in, a split second to remember "Mistress" Julia wildy taping his face while moaning and humping his thrashing body. His eyes tried to open wide, but there was still tape there. He tried to get a deep breath, but it was strained as he realized most of his face was still covered with duct tape. He was getting air through his nose and, with considerable effort, could suck a little bit from a small opening just above his mouth.
His ears were covered in layers of tape, but he could hear Mistress Julia's delighted laughter. "You made it! Wonderful! Oh, I think I like you. You've got spunk. It's rare that any of my toys survive. But don't worry, slave," she leaned in close, whispering in his ear so softly he could he barely hear. "We'll try again later."
Sam was exhausted and his heart was pounding. His mind was fuzzy. He tried to think straight, to try to come up with a plan. Or something. But no. No, he really couldn't. There was little conscious thought at this point, just a struggle to make sure he could get that next breath.
He felt Mistress Julia tugging at his ankles, and a moment later felt scissors cut them lose. Sam had a moment of brief hope, but quickly found it impossible to focus on anything except breathing. He felt a tug at the collar Sarah had attached earlier ('are you really gone?'), and then a hard pull. "Get up, slave. You've already made a mess in my living room. Time to put you where you belong."
She pulled harder this time, upwards, and Sam had little choice but to struggle to his feet. And it was a mighty struggle, with his hands and elbows still thoroughly taped behind his back and his thighs still taped together. But Mistress Julia pulled very hard, which, while causing him pain in his neck and temporarily cutting off his breathing again, did provide the proper leverage for him to rise. He tottered on uneasy feet for a moment before she moved forward, tugging on his leash, guiding him roughly forward.
He heard a door open, and Mistress Julia say, "Careful on the stairs. I'd hate for you to fall and break your neck. That'd be such a... waste." Followed by a cold but gleeful, girlish giggle.
She led him down a single flight of stairs and then through a room which he could get very little sense of, being blind and having his ears so muffled. Then she stopped and ordered him to his knees, which Sam did without thinking. He heard what sounded like several locks being unlocked, then another door opening. She pulled on the leash again, ordering him up, then led him into another room before closing the door behind him.
Next he heard a sound that confused him but that would come to make sense in a few minutes. Then she spoke again. "Okay, slave. I want you to get down on your knees and duck your head." Sam moaned and shook his head no, and a pleading cry for mercy came from somewhere he didn't recognize. "Do it!" she screamed, and she punched him harder in the stomach than he would've thought she was capable of. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath once again. In that time, she forcefully pushed his head down and shoved him forward. He fell with a thud, crumpled up into a ball, still fighting for air.
He felt Mistress Julia pulling at his wrists then, and a moment later they were free. Then his elbows. Sam immediately tried to bring his hands to his face, but they barely responded. They were like lead. He shook them, trying to get some blood circulating, and smashed them painfully against something that didn't quite make sense. He heard Mistress Julia sigh dramatically, an eye rolling sound. "You're in a fucking cage, stupid. Be careful."
Sam forced himself to be calm, to focus on his breath. With what little strength he could muster he brought his hands to his face and slowly started pulling away the tape there. And it was slow. Several times he had to fight back panic, the burning need to have this tape off his face NOW. As he got closer to the layers directly touching his skin and hair, his relief at being free became overwhelmed by the pain of each pull. It took him nearly ten minutes to pull the last of the tape away. When he reached around the back of his head and unbuckled the ballgag, he couldn't help but let out a mighty sigh of relief.
Sam looked up and got his bearings. He was indeed in a cage. Judging by it's size it was made for a large dog. Strong metal bars, not the flimsy kind he might be able to gradually warp and bend his way out of. Big enough to fit him, but not big enough to do much more than get into a crouched sitting position, or lay in the ball he was in now. Mistress Julia sat casually on a stool outside of the cage.
Sam looked around the room, but there wasn't much to see. He realized his cage was actually in something that looked very much like a jail cell. The door was open and Mistress Julia's stool was inside. On the walls were several chains and manacles that looked like something out of a pirate movie. There was a stainless steel toilet in one corner, and a stainless steel bathtub right next to it. A large drain was in the center of the room. Outside of the jail cell, besides the door, was a large steel toolbench with several closed drawers. A hose was wound up on the floor. The room itself was nothing but cold and drab concrete.
Mistress Julia was looking at him with a bored look in her eyes. "Ok. Well. I'll come back and feed you a little later. If you have to pee, just try to get it towards that drain. I'll let you use the toilet later. Maybe. We'll see how I feel. And do one thing for me?" Sam just looked at her. "Don't speak. When I come back in here, don't try to talk me out of anything, don't try to beg or plead or reason with me. It's so terribly boring and I'm sure you won't come up with anything I haven't heard before. You're mine now. Period. This probably isn't going to go well for you, that's true. But if you speak, I'm just going to make it 100 times worse. Clear?" Sam nodded.
"Good." She got up, closed and locked the jail cell door, then left the room without looking back. Same heard the door locking, and a moment later the lights went out in the room. Sam immediately began to cry. There was no sense of "manning up." It was all just too much for him and he cried in big, heaving, uncontrollable sobs. If you'd described this scenario to him a few hours ago, it might've been close to his greatest fantasy. Being kidnapped, held captive by a hot and crazy woman. But this wasn't fun and he wasn't turned on. It was surreal, although feeling more real by the second.
Worst of all was the loss of Sarah, his one true love. The one he'd waited his whole life to find. He tried to ponder what would make her do such a thing to him, to leave him in the "care" of this mad woman. But in a sense he was a slave to her, too. A slave to his naive, simple, pure love for her. He couldn't find the will to be angry at her. In Sam's mind, she'd tried to do right by him. Thought she was doing him a kindness. He forgave her. And missed her; couldn't believe she was gone; was consumed by loss. And so sat in his cage and cried.
The lights came on later, waking Sam from his sleep. Mistress Julia came in carrying two bowls and barely seemed to notice him. Sam didn't speak. He didn't do it to be obedient. He had decided she was a psychopath and talking would do no good. Mistress Julia put the two bowls on the floor just outside his cage and turned in left without a word. Sam reached for the bowls and pulled them to him. One was water.
The other was dog food.
The lights came on again a few hours later, and Mistress Julia entered holding a gym back. She open the cell and kneeled down next to Sam's cage. "Take off your clothes."
"What?" Sam asked, anger suddenly rising to the surface.
"What did I fucking tell you about talking?" she screamed at him. It had the effect of making Sam angrier.
"Are you fucking serious? There's no fucking WAY I'm doing a goddam THING-"
"DO WHAT I FUCKING SAY!" she screamed in a way that actually made Sam flinch.
He looked at her for a moment. Considered. Then calmly replied, "No," before turning, shifting his body so his back was to her. He waited a moment. All was quiet. Then he heard the gym bag being open and just as his curiosity got the better of him... just as he started to turn his head... he was hit with 50,000 volts from a taser. He twitched and spasmed uncontrollably as Mistress Julia screamed at him through the cage, "How do you like THAT, you stupid fuck? Huh? You like that?" She hit him again with it, this time seemingly caught up in her craziness, ranting and practically jumping up and down. "That's what you fucking GET, you stupid little whore! You worthless fucking cunt! You don't say no to me! You don't EVER fucking say no to ME!"
It continued this way for several minutes, with Sam on the verge of consciousness throughout. Finally she began to calm down, as Sam slowly began to regain his senses. "Now," she said with a calm and mocking tone. "How about you take your fucking clothes off, sweetie."
"Good boy. Who's a good boy?" he tone suddenly shifted to the high pitched voice one would use to talk to a dog, although Sam could still very much sense the malevolence and coldness behind it. "You're a good boy, aren't you? Yes. Yes, you are. You keep being a good boy, and maybe I'll take you for a walk. You want to go for a walk? Huh? You want to go outside? Go for a walk? Yeah. There's a good boy."
She reached in and ruffled his hair, and Sam nearly pulled away. But instead he took it.
"Now, puppy, put your arms behind your back and hold them near the cage." Sam sighed. This was not good. But neither was being tased. He did as he was told. "Good boy! Oh, so much better. There definitely might be a treat for you later."
Sam felt something being pulled up over his hands and wrists, then up over his elbows and arms. It was a black leather armbinder, and again Sam was struck by how cool this might've been in a different setting... and how much worse it was in this one. She strapped it around his shoulders and tugged and pulled the laces tighter than they were intended to be pulled. Within moments Sam's hands and fingers were going numb.
"Now, I'm going to open the cage and let you out. You're welcome to try to run away. Seriously!" Her tone was suddenly light and almost playful. "I'm not strict all the time, silly. I like a little sport from time to time. So if you want to try to run away out of this locked room with your arms bound behind you... oh, that'd be a great time! Or maybe you want to..." she leaned in close, her eyes wide," oh, I don't know... kick me? Yeah, you should TOTALLY try that. I'd just LOVE to see how THAT ends." She smiled at him. Daring him. Sam looked at her with contempt and hatred. But when he looked away, they both knew he wouldn't fight.
She let him out of the cage, and Sam stood and stretched his legs. It felt good. But it only took a second for her to start tying his thighs together with a long length of rope. She was very good and it was very tight; Sam tensed with each pull and knot. Next she pulled out a black bondage hood that looked more like a dog's head then a person's, with a long snout and small pointy ears on the top. She pulled it over his head, and only then did Sam realize there was a large plug gag inside. It completely filled his mouth, although it was disguised from the outside by the dog-like design. Mistress Julia tightly tied and buckled Sam in, once again bucking everything a little bit tighter than it was probably intended to be.
Next she led him through the door into the room he'd blindly walked through earlier. Now he could see it for what it was: a stereotypical dominatrix dungeon. It was large and bright and filled with crosses with straps on it, benches and tables, rows of gags and whips and nipple clamps and things he could barely process.
She led him into a corner and attached his armbinder to a chain hanging from the ceiling, attached to a pulley. She pulled the chain upward until his arms were at a nearly 45 degree angle from his body and his torso was nearly parallel to the floor. To further limit his movement, she strapped his ankles and thighs together with leather buckled straps she pulled off of the wall. It was an uncomfortable position but not very painful, but Sam had an idea that it would be painful before long.
"Hm," Mistress Julia said, sounding satisfied. "That'll do nicely. Behave, now, my puppy. I'll be back in a bit."
Sam struggled futilely for a few minutes, making a sincere effort to free himself. He quickly understood it was pointless, that he was held fast, and spent the next few minutes just trying to find some semblance of comfort as the aches in his back and arms began to slowly grow. It was close to an hour before Mistress Julia finally came back through the door. Sam lifted his head and through his mask saw, to his shock, that Mistress Julia was not alone.
Mistress Julia looked incredible. Completely made up, with a black skin-tight latex catsuit and the highest high-heeled boots Sam had ever seen. He'd known she was attractive from the start, but seeing her like this stirred something deep inside of him. It was repellent to him, though, and he quickly stifled any kind of attraction he might be feeling for this person he was coming to see as a true monster.
She had a leash in one hand, and on the other end of the leash was a collar. The collar was attached to a tall, graying man dressed in a three piece suit. The man saw Sam and stopped in his tracks. "What the fuck's this?" he said. Sam immediately began struggling hard, screaming into his gag for help. The man looked stunned and unsure, but Mistress Julia turned to him very calmly and spoke. "Oh, don't mind my little pet, there. He's paid a special price for his treatment and I promise he won't bother us at all."
Sam "mmmmpphhed" in disagreement as hard as he could, shaking and rattling the chains holding his arms violently. The man still seemed a bit unsure, a considering look on his face. Mistress Julia just laughed pleasantly, in that cruel and mocking way that seemed entirely fitting her "dominatrix" ways. "Come on, slut. Take your clothes off. You've only got 50 minutes left." She winked at the man, whose attention went back to Julia. Sam could see the look on his face and knew it well; he wanted and needed what Mistress Julia was about to give him. And Sam was just part of the scene. As he began to undress, Sam lost what was passing for "his cool." He screamed and fought and made a giant fuss, desperate to make this man understand that he was an unwilling prisoner.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," Mistress Julia said. She dropped the leash and curtly reminded the man to keep getting undressed. Then she walked to one of her workbenches and grabbed two items, and walked over to Sam. "I'm really sorry about this one. He was told if he was going to be allowed to watch, he was going to have to behave. But you know these pets. They like to make a fuss when you don't give them your full attention."
She pulled a clear, thick plastic bag over Sam's head. It drooped and rested on his shoulders. Sam's eyes widened, and he shook his head back and forth in a feeble attempt to remove it. Mistress Julia grabbed his chin with one hand and raised it up towards her face. With the other, she showed him a roll of duct tape. "Now, you KNOW I have other clients, sweety. We talked about this. If you can't behave, I'll have to wrap this tape around your neck and you hang there until we're done. Understand?"
She was smiling a knowing smile. With her face right in front of Sam's and her back to the now naked (and clearly aroused) man, she winked at him. All the fight left Sam. All the tension in his muscles left him, and when Mistress Julia let go of his chin, he let his head drop in defeat. "There's my girl," she giggled, as she turned back to her client. "Now. Where were we?"
Sam watched through his hood and the clear plastic bag. Breathing was hard, but he could do it. His arms and back now hurt. What happened next was like something out of a bad porno movie. Or a mainstream movie about bondage and dominatrixes made by someone who had no idea what it was REALLY all about. The man was tied loosely to one of her x-crosses, and she proceeded to lightly whip him, calling him names while he begged for more and cried out "yes, Mistress" even when she wasn't asking him anything. Julia seemed bored to Sam, although he could tell her client hadn't noticed. The only time she seemed engaged was when she'd steal a glance over at Sam. Each time, Sam would look away in disgust.
After a while Sam let his head drop. He didn't want to see, and he was exhausted. But he quickly felt his captor's hand under his chin again. "Uh uh, puppy. I want you to watch." Then, in a whisper he could barely hear, "having you here is making this nonsense almost bareable. I can't wait to play with you alone again." Sam cringed at what that might mean.
But Mistress Julia did want him to watch. So she took the bag off his head and grabbed a length a rope and tied it a ring attached to the top of his hood. Then she tied the other end to the pulley that held the chain holding his bound arms up. "Mmmm," she purred, clearly satisfied. She returned to her work as Sam struggled just to balance all the tension in his body.
Sam was now unable to move his head, save for a slight swivel left and right. He tried to close his eyes, to avoid the scene in front of him. But even that proved difficult. He was just too tense from the increasingly painful position. Eventually, the man's time was up and Mistress Julia untied him. She distractedly began to nudge him up the stairs and out, but he stopped and looked at Sam one more time. Sam's eyes grew wide and his struggles increased, hoping desperately that he could somehow get it across to this man that he was an unwilling captive of a psychopath. Instead, he heard the man say to Mistress Julia, "Can I do THAT next time?" as he pointed towards Sam. Sam sighed dejectedly, and Mistress Julia let out a chuckle. "I doubt that very much." The man pondered this for only a second before shrugging and being off on his way.
Ten minutes later, she returned. "Whew," she sighed as she approached him. "That was fucking tedious. I gotta tell you, though, pet... I was thinking about you the whole time. Now it's MY time to play."
With that she untied his head and the armbinder. Sam collapsed painfully and helplessly to the floor. Mistress Julia laughed with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Oh, come on. Get your lazy ass up." She buckled a black collar around his throat and attached a leash to it. She pulled hard, and Sam struggled to his feet rather than be strangled. She then untied his ankles and thighs and led him back into the jail cell that housed his cage. But instead of bringing him back to the cage, she led him over to the tub in the other corner.
"Climb in," she ordered. Sam glared at her and thought about resisting. But his numb arms were still tightly encased in the armbinder behind him and he knew she'd get him in there eventually. So he climbed in. It was much larger than a normal bathroom bathtub, and was the dull gray/silver of an industrial tub.
"I'm going to take the hood off you now. But don't forget my rule: NO. Talking. Clear?"
Sam just glared at her.
"Good." She unbuckled him from the hood and Sam let out an audible gasp. It was good to breath clear again. "Don't get too excited, puppy. It's only for a minute." She walked over the bench just outside of the jail cell bars. Sam again considered trying to escape, but again thought he had no chance. He'd wait; he'd be ready when a real chance came along.
Mistress Julia pulled out a large roll of industrial strength plastic wrap and brought it over to the tub. Sam stared at if for a moment and felt a twinge of excitement. It had been a fantasy of his to be mummified in plastic wrap, and Sarah had done it with him. It was another emotional blow, this realization; that one of his greatest fantasies had already been fulfilled by a woman he had (and always would) truly love. And now that same fantasy was likely about to be warped by this woman that felt no love for him at all. He buried his excitement. Squashed it. Denied it. Would not allow it.
Mistress Julia registered these emotions on his face. She was crazy, but sharp. She smiled. Then without another word she pulled off a length of the plastic wrap and began wrapping Sam's face. She was careful and gentle, which was a bit surprising. But she was also thorough. When she was done Sam's entire head was tightly (but not uncomfortably) sealed, save for his nostrils. He found he could breath fairly easily once he got the rhythm.
Next she wrapped his upper torso. His arms, hands and fingers were already just about numb from the armbinder that had been on him for close to two hours and, while she wasn't severe with her wrapping, it was certainly tight. "Ok, now lay down in the tub, puppy," she ordered. Sam did as he was told, carefully squatting and then laying out on his side. From there she wrapped each leg individually, then wrapped the left one in a frog-style; ankle to thigh. She wrapped the other leg the same way, so that Sam could move the stumps that were now his legs around, but not stretch them out.
Mistress Julia left for a moment, but returned soon after with a chair. She looked in the tub at Sam and began playing with herself through the latex. Sam cringed and turned his head away in disgust. It didn't stop her; he could hear her soft moans. "Mmmm. No. Not yet. There's more to do, first." She didn't seem to be talking to Sam anymore, just kind of talking out loud. Sam didn't care. He had no interest in conversation. He was achy and tired and- he suddenly felt a cold splash of water on his feet. She had turned the tub on. Sam looked up at her and rolled his eyes. He didn't know what her game was but he wasn't going to be playing along. But once again... she just smiled at him.
Very slowly the tub began to fill with water. Sam stayed fairly still, knowing he was in no danger. His position was awkward, but he was confident he would be able to scramble into a sitting position if she left the water on for long. But then Mistress Julia reached down and grabbed the plastic wrap. Sam saw the look on her face; she was in that wonderful sensual place where there's barely any conscious thought. He could see it in her eyes, the way her shoulders were heaving slightly, the way she was slowly moving her hips.
She took the plastic wrap and wrapped a long piece over the top of the tub. Then repeated this a little ways down. Then repeated it again. Slowly she was creating a plastic wrap seal, each piece connecting to the last. When she was done, Sam was completely sealed in from the outside world.
He was a little confused. The tub was filling up with water and he guessed that was her point; to drown him. But it seemed pointless; there was only one small layer of wrap that would be easy to break through. He didn't have many options though, so he lay in the tub on his stomach, mostly to avoid having to look at her.
Within a few minutes, though, the water had reached the level of his nose and he was forced to try to change his position. It was a struggle, but he remained calm as he shifted to his back. There was enough buoyancy in the water already to alleviate some of the pain of resting on his arms, which was good. But now the water was about three quarters of the way to the top of the tub, and Sam was beginning to understand his plight.
With his face and head wrapped in plastic wrap, if he tried to break free of the tub, all that wrap would stick to his face, likely sealing in his nose and breathing. He looked out at Mistress Julia, hazy through the plastic wrap covering his eyes and covering the tub. His eyes grew wide as panic threatened; she now had her pants off and was playing with herself vigorously. She had created a death trap for him; a choice to drown or suffocate. And while he knew she'd saved him at the last minute last time, he wasn't so sure she would do it again.
Sam couldn't hear anything except for the thunder of running water, as his ears became fully submerged. The water level was inches from the top of the plastic, as was his nose. He balanced there with all his strength, but it was incredibly hard with his arms in an armbinder and then wrapped to his body with plastic wrap, and with his legs wrapped as well. He tried to stay calm, but he was losing that fight as the water got higher and higher, forcing his nose to actually touch the plastic wrap covering the tub. He didn't know what to do, didn't have any answers. He tried again to calm himself and think rationally, knowing that if he just had a minute to think there was probably a dozen easy ways out of this.
But then water was up his nose, and his time was up. He blew the water out of his nose and forced his head up another millimeter, feeling a moment of air before the water was back in his nose. In total panic now, Sam braced his legs along the side of the tub and painfully forced his head above the water.
He was surprised at how easy it had been. What had he panicked about? It took a little effort to keep himself braced and upright, but it wasn't anything he couldn't manage. He glanced over at Mistress Julia and stopped moving. Her face was alight with pleasure; she was moaning and pleasuring herself and saying something Sam couldn't make out. He had escaped, sort of. Why was she still masturbating?
Then he realized what an idiot he was. He felt the plastic wrap cling to his nose. It was everywhere, of course. He'd broken through the plastic wrap but, as he had feared, it had stuck to his face. Not too tightly, but with every breath he was making a tighter seal. It wouldn't take long; it was already a struggle to breath. He watched Mistress Julia work at herself even more feverishly as his gasps came closer and closer together; as blackness and stars began to swim about his eyes and mind.
Then she leaned in close to him and he could at last hear what she was saying. "That's it. That's it. Die for me, my love. Die for me."