Any guesses? Any thoughts?
On the Seventh Day (2)
THURSDAY: Submission
Mike had instructed her to kneel
outside his door at five pm sharp. As she knelt there, Danni thought
about the day she'd had.
The chastity belt was locked. She was
cramped, just a little bit. That was annoying, but harder to deal
with than her bladder. She knew she couldn't hold it in all day, knew
she couldn't sleep without going to the bathroom.
So she'd used the toilet around the
plug in her pussy. She felt the urine against the belt, felt it
splashing on her legs, and heard the sound of it dripping into the
toilet. There was not enough toilet paper in the world to clean
herself up afterward.
When she got up Thursday, she decided
it would be best to be in the shower when she did it. She told
herself that she couldn't tell the difference between the water
flowing down her body and the piss flowing down her leg. She told
herself that there was nothing wrong with peeing in the shower. She
assured herself that people did this sort of thing all the time. And
normal people. Not freaks. Not perverts. Not people with no respect
for themselves. Normal people peed in the shower all the time.
Kneeling there in front of Mike's
door, all her efforts to convince herself had started to unravel. She
never really believed it, but kneeling there in front of his door,
pressing the buzzer again and waiting for him to come to the door,
Danni couldn't even maintain the lie. Normal people don't do that. Normal people don't go out with six guys in one week. Normal people
don't let themselves get locked in chastity belts.
Normal people don't kneel at the door
of someone's apartment, waiting for him to come to the door.
She pressed the buzzer again, holding
it in and listening to it as it chimed through his apartment. No way
he could be ignoring her.
She held it down and rested her
forehead against the door. She was just about to give up. He
obviously wasn't coming to the door. And if he thought she was just
going to kneel outside his door all night long, he had another thing
coming. She dropped her hand off the buzzer and closed her eyes.
One
more minute. If he doesn't open this door in one more minute.
The elevator dinged behind her, and
she heard the doors open. Someone was getting off the elevator, and
they were going to see her. They were going to see her kneeling there
in front of his door, forehead against the wood. They'd come over and
ask what was wrong, ask her if there was anything they could do. She
needed a good story. Some kind of lie that would explain why she was
there.
She heard footsteps approaching and
tried to think of what to do. She considered getting up and running
for the stairs, hoping the person hadn't recognized her. She
considered just pretending to be drunk. Or injured. Or – something.
She took a deep breath, ready for whatever lie slipped out, when a
hand rested on her shoulder.
“I'm impressed,” Mike said. “I
didn't think you'd make it.”
She turned her head and looked up at
him. “What do you mean? Where the fuck have you been?”
He reached past her and unlocked the
door. “In the lobby,” he said. “Come on in. Your knees must be
killing you.”
Inside, he helped her to her feet and
brought her over to the couch. Let her sit down.
She stretched out her legs. “What
the fuck were you doing in the lobby?” she asked.
“I was waiting,” he said.
“For what?”
“For you. Or for five thirty.
Whichever came first.”
“You said five.”
He nodded. “And I told you to kneel
outside my door. Which you did.”
“For thirty fucking minutes.”
He nodded again. Then he smiled. “How
did it feel?”
“It hurt my knees.”
Mike shook his head. “How did it
feel? How did it feel when you heard me walking up behind you?”
Danni opened her mouth to give him
some kind of snarky retort, but nothing came out. He kept his eyes
focused on her, giving he time to mull it over. “It was pretty
humiliating,” she said. “I almost panicked.”
He nodded. “Almost ran for it, am I
right? But you didn't. And that's important.”
“Why is that important?”
“Two reasons. First, it means you
were obedient. You followed the orders you were given without
questioning them.”
“And second?”
He smiled again. “It means you're a
filthy whore who gets off on being treated like sub human garbage.”
She started to yell at him, but it
wasn't anger that flushed through her body. Maybe it was the way he
said it. Maybe it was the approving look in his eyes as he said it.
Maybe it was just the way the week had gone so far. But she wasn't
mad. She was just, maybe, a little turned on.
“Are you wearing the belt?” he
asked. She nodded.
Mike went into the other room and got
an old fashioned Polaroid camera. The kind that pumped out instant
pictures. “Show me,” he said.
She stood up and lifted her skirt,
showing him the rubber and metal contraption. He snapped a shot of
it, and she heard the whir as the picture slid out. “I can't see it
all,” he said. “Show me more.”
She modeled for him, turning around
with her skirt held high, so he could see it from every angle. He
took another picture, then a third. Then he let out a sigh.
“Still no good,” he said. Then he
looked her up and down. “Take it off,” he said.
“I can't. It's locked.”
“Take off what's not locked.”
Oh. He meant strip. Why didn't he just
say so?
Danni unbuttoned her skirt and let it
fall to the floor. She kicked it out of the way, then bent down to
unhook the ankle strap on her heels.
“Leave the shoes on,” he said.
Another light flashed as she pulled
the shirt over her head. Again when she unhooked her bra. He took
picture after picture, the images falling to the floor around them as
he documented her nudity and the chastity belt she had let herself be
locked into.
Then he put the camera away, and came
back out with a tripod.
“On your knees,” he said, setting
up the video and starting it to record.
She knelt. He stood out of frame and
showed her a collar. No way that was made for a dog, or for a pet of
any kind. It was black satin with white frills over a leather strap
with a tiny little hinge for a lock. He tossed it at her feet.
“Put it on.”
She picked it up and wrapped it around
her neck. It was snug, but loose enough to let her breathe. When she
moved her hands away, it fell to the floor. She picked it up again.
“I can't get it to stay,” she said.
He nodded. “It needs to be locked.”
What's one more thing being locked on?
She sighed. “Are you going to lock it on?”
He shook his head. “No, but you can
do it.”
She held out her hand.
“You have to ask me for it,” he
said. “In fact, you have to beg.”
“Beg?”
He nodded. “And be very clear what
you want. Tell the camera all about it.”
She sighed, tried the collar on,
hoping it would stay without the lock. It fell again. When she went
to pick it up, she saw the photos starting to develop, shots of her
in various states of undress showing off a chastity belt. She saw the
smile on her own face, and the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks.
She looked from picture to picture, seeing her bare neck, and thought
about how much better it would look with the collar. Her eyes flipped
to the collar, and she imagined the little black bow in the center of
her neck, the lace frills. It would look like a pretty choker
necklace to anyone who saw it. The lock would be hidden behind her
hair. No one would know. It would just be a pretty piece of jewelry.
Only she would know. Her and the boys.
“Can I have the lock?” she asked.
He didn't move.
“Please, let me lock my collar on.”
Still nothing.
Danni closed her eyes, then opened
them and looked right into the unfeeling glass eye of the camera.
“Please master, let me lock my neck in this beautiful collar, so
that my whole body will be under lock and key. I love being owned,
and I want to show off to the world that I am just a piece of
property to be used by my wonderful masters.”
She took a deep breath and felt
herself flush again. Mike smiled and tossed the lock, one of those
tiny things they use on luggage, at her feet. She picked it up and
snapped the collar onto her neck. She let out a happy sigh, and
wished reaching between her legs would do something. She shifted
against the plugs, bit her lower lip, and moaned softly.
“Did you like doing that?” He
asked. She nodded. “You liked being treated like that?” she
nodded again. “Tell me.”
“I loved being treated like a piece
of property.” She smiled at the camera. “I love being treated
like the sub human trash that I am.”
FRIDAY: Sadism
Owen decided they would play at her
place instead of at his. He told her to clear out the living room,
and to greet him on her knees. Danni was getting used to being on her
knees, and it felt natural to answer the door that way.
Owen looked down, not coming in. “I
can't come inside like this,” he said.
“What's wrong?”
He slapped her across the face. She
fell over, more in surprise than pain.
“Your mouth isn't for speaking,”
he said. He pointed to his crotch, to his erection. “Now get to
work.”
Danni was about to ask him to come
inside first, but she saw him raise his hand as soon as she opened
her mouth. So she just looked both ways, hoping no one would see it,
and then reached forward and unzipped his pants.
Standing in the hallway of her
building. Owen fucked her face. He used her hair as handles and
pounded her head against his pelvis, ignoring when she choked a
little, yanking her hair any time she tried to look around and see if
they were being watched. She focused on sucking, but there was very
little she could do but leave her mouth open and let him use it as he
wanted to.
He held her nose against his skin when
he came, squirting down her throat, making her swallow whether she
wanted to or not. Once he was sure she had swallowed, he pulled out
and walked into her apartment, dragging her behind him by the hair.
She struggled to keep up, barely
managing to kick the door closed before he threw her into the living
room.
She was coughing for breath when he
grabbed her hair again and lifted her to her feet. He slammed her
into the wall, then grabbed her hands and used a zip tie to lash them
behind her back. He turned her around again, blasting the breath out
of her body as she hit the wall. Then he stepped away, letting her
fall forward, back onto her knees.
He ignored her then, zipping himself
back up and walking back to the front door. He brought in a suitcase
and set it down in front of her. Opening the lid towards her so she
couldn't see what was inside, he finally looked at her.
She was crying. He raised an eyebrow.
“You okay?” She nodded. The concern disappeared from his face.
“Then shut the fuck up.”
He reached into the suitcase and
pulled out a white towel. Set that down on the floor next to the
case. Then he pulled out what looked like a riding crop. Then a
coiled whip. A thin strip of bamboo. A switchblade. The spur from a
pair of boots. A piece of steel wool. A belt sander.
She looked up at him, and a low whine
escaped despite her best efforts.
Owen looked at her. “I said shut the
fuck up,” he said. Then he went back to the case.
A dental pick. A pack of hypodermic
needles, still in sterile wrapping. A pair of pliers. A flogger made
of barbed wire.
Danni looked at the devices as Owen
spread them out. He made sure she was able to see each one clearly,
adjusting them so that they were easier to see. “Do you have any
questions about how these work?”
She shook her head, her eyes wide. Her
safe word was on her lips.
“It's okay,” he said. “I'm not
going to do any permanent damage.”
He picked up the steel wool and rubbed
it gently against the palm of his hand. “Can you imaging what this
would feel like?” he asked. He looked between her legs. “It
really is too bad I didn't get to you before they locked that thing
on. We could have slid this steel wool back and forth between your
legs. Back and forth.” He moved it across his palm. Dannie winced
at the thought. “Back and forth.”
He put the steel wool down and picked
up the needles. “We could always do some surface piercing,” he
said. “Maybe draw a picture with the needles.” He looked at her,
smiled, and put them back down. He reached for the belt sander, but
didn't pick it up. Instead, he grabbed the bamboo. “A few quick
lashes with this, maybe? It'll slice right through the skin. Feels
cold first, then burns. You'll bleed.” He shrugged. “But they're
very small cuts. They heal without even leaving a scar, as long as we
take care of them. And we will. Don't worry about that.”
She shook her head, but he wasn't
looking at her. He was already reaching for a new device. The pliers.
“Do you know how tightly you can clamp someone's nipples without
doing permanent damage?” he asked, looking up at her.
Danni was sweating, her face pale.
Owen laughed. Lifted the tool that looked like a spur. “Or I could
run this over your scalp,” he said. “I bet it's still tender,
isn't it?”
She nodded.
He smiled, spun the wheel. “Tender
from when I used it to fuck your pathetic face. Did you like that?”
She shook her head.
He smiled again. “I'm not sure I
believe it,” he said. “In fact, I bet you'd ask me to do it
again.”
He put away the spur. Then the riding
crop. He picked up the dental pick. “The mouth heals faster than
any other part of the body. Did you know that? I could snip your
tongue in half down the middle, and it would heal before tomorrow
night.”
He put the pick away. Then he let out
a sigh and looked at the towel.
“Tell you what,” he said. “You
can choose. Which of these tools do I use on your most sensitive
skin? Which one do I use to make you cry, to make you beg me to stop?
Which device should I use to torture out your safe word?”
She looked at what was left. Each one
more terrifying than the last. He could have had a chainsaw out
there, and it wouldn't have looked out of place.
“Or,” he said, holding up a hand.
“Or you could ask to be my cum dump again. You could ask me to fuck
your face a second time, and we can skip all this.”
She nodded. “That's what you want?”
she nodded again.
He started packing away the tools.
He stood up, walked over to stand in
front of her. Then he cleared his throat and spat right in her face.
She flinched. Danni was shaking all over. But she didn't say
anything. “Ask me,” he said. “Ask me to fuck your whore face,
and I will. I'll do that, and then I'll go. I'll cum down your throat
again, and then I'll cut your wrists free and I'll leave.” He
turned back to the suitcase, still open. Then he looked down at her.
He didn't need to repeat himself.
“Please,” she said. Her voice grew
weaker with every word. “Please fuck my whore face.”
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