The bonds are comfortable, as is the satin lining cushioning the space between her skin and the inside walls of the wooden box. If she stretches herself out she can touch one panel of the box with her head and brace against the other with her toes, but if she stays relaxed she's got enough space. Thankfully, she has a lot of wiggle room to her sides. For a few minutes during transit she amuses herself by rolling back and forth and feeling the satin slide against her skin.
She's a little antsy from having been in the box, in the dark, for so long. Actually, she's not sure if it's the box that's letting no light in or the fact that she's wearing a blindfold. So far she's only been able to tell her location by the faint rumbling of a truck surrounding her and the occasional jostle at a bump in the road. She's not hungry or thirsty; whatever drugs they poured down her throat beforehand made sure of that. Can't have a box-girl arrive at a destination delirious from dehydration--that would ruin the company's reputation.
It's a palpable relief when she feels the truck stop, hears someone open the back. The box is being lifted, carried, probably by at least two people. Then a
thunk
as the box is placed on the ground. The distant ring of a doorbell?
...door opening. Muffled, unintelligible conversation. Then the box is lifted again, carried, set down.
She waits. There really isn't anything else she can do, after all. She's... scared? Maybe a little? It's not like she didn't know what she was signing up for, but then again, her feelings on this whole matter are... complicated. Her heartbeat hiccups from time to time, and she really hopes she isn't staining the box's lining with sweat. She gnaws lightly on the ballgag between her teeth. She tries to arrange herself in the box as best she can, at least in a way that looks somewhat organized; she ends up on her side, her bound wrists held in front of her, curled up slightly like she's taking a nap. Hopefully her underwear isn't too rumpled.
The lid of the box opens. She can tell by the noise, she can tell by the shift in atmosphere, and, most of all, she can tell by the loud, feminine squeal of "Oh my
god!
"
"Isn't she cute?" another voice asks, one with a deeper, huskier undertone. It sends shivers down the box-girl's spine. "I knew you'd love her, she's exactly your type."
"Liar," another voice accuses playfully. "She's
your
type, Reya. You're just using Candy's birthday as an excuse to buy something off your wishlist, again."
"What can I say?" Reya chuckles, not bothering to deny the accusation. "I do love to treat myself."
"Is--is she asleep?" Candy whispers. "I can't tell with that blindfold. Do you think she might be startled if we--"
The box-girl shifts a little, turning her head towards the source of Candy's voice. Candy gasps.
"Oh! She heard me!"
Reya tsks. "Of course she heard you, you're
ridiculously
loud. Isn't that right, Honey?"
At the sound of her assigned name, the box-girl perks up. She swallows and shifts her legs minutely, making the pink leather cuffs around her ankles jingle.
"Come on, let's get her out of this box and try her out," the third, yet unnamed voice says. A gently calloused hand lands on Honey's shoulder, sending a shivering jolt throughout her entire body. Is she really that sensitive? Or is it just because she's been in the box for so long? She whimpers--in response, Candy immediately croons, "Aww she's so cute!"
More hands slide over Honey's skin, her shoulders, her waist, her legs. Honey tries to arch into every single touch at once. Then she's lifted up into the arms of one person who carries her bridal style, letting her curl into their shoulder and chest. Whoever it is, she smells
wonderful
. Like jasmine oil. Honey would say so, if her lips weren't currently wrapped around a sizable ballgag.
She's laid down on a bed with her arms up over her head, completely exposed save for the bits covered by her skimpy lingerie. The mattress dips and creaks as all three other women hop on.
"You go first, Candy," the unnamed one says. "It's your special day, after all."
"Oh my god. I don't know where to start." The mattress to both sides of Honey dips as Candy gets on all fours above her. Honey can feel her looming presence--can smell a different scent, one of strawberry shampoo.
"Why don't you find out how she tastes?" Reya suggests, then promptly
ooph
s as someone, presumably the woman whose name Honey doesn't know yet, elbows her in the side.
"Yeah," Candy breathes. "Yeah, that sounds good."
Candy lowers herself onto Honey, straddling her hips and lower stomach. She's wearing jeans; the scratchy fabric, the warm weight of the body under that, Honey feels it all. A hand, small and soft and delicate, brushes up the side of her neck, taking with it stray strands of silky hair. The tender contact sparks bliss against Honey's goosebumped skin. Then Candy cups Honey's jaw and licks up the side of her face.
Oh my god. Candy has a tongue piercing.
Honey makes a strangled noise, squirming. The warm, wet surface of Candy's tongue, interrupted by the hard steel of a barbell, sends little lightning bolts of pleasure skittering down her spine and between her legs. She clenches her thighs together without thinking, and her ankle cuffs chafe against her oversensitive skin.
As Candy licks a trail down the line of Honey's jaw, Honey hears the other two women speaking in the background.
"How long did you rent her out for?"
"Twenty-four hours."
"Holy shit. How much did that cost?"
"Let's just say she racks up a few more zeroes than your average prostitute. She was also one of the most expensive on the catalog."
"Really? Why?"
"Because she's new."
Candy's lips still where they've been sucking a mark onto the underside of Honey's jaw. "Wait," she says, as Honey whimpers sadly at the loss of sensation, "you mean we're the first ones to--"
"Yup." Honey can hear the smug grin in Reya's voice. "We're popping her box-girl cherry."
Candy's excited squeal nearly shatters Honey's eardrums. "This is the best birthday present
ever
!" Candy swoops down and plants a loud, wet kiss on the tip of Honey's nose. "Reya, you're my favorite roommate!"
"Hey!" the other woman calls. "I'm a good roommate too!"
"Uh, no offense Jin. But today's my birthday, and you got me a book."
"It's a good book!"
"But Reya got me a brand-spanking-new box-girl. So..."
Jin huffs in defeat. "Okay fine, you got me there."
There's the muffled sound of Reya patting Jin's shoulder. "It's alright, sweetheart. It's not your fault I'm hotter and richer and more fun than you."
Candy loudly shushes them both. "I'm trying to enjoy my present over here!" Jin mutters a sincere apology while Reya just laughs.
Candy nips at Honey's collarbone, drawing out little cries every time her teeth close over the fragile skin. She presses her palm just below the newly-made pink indents, scratches in a red spot with her thumb.
Honey's breath quickens as she feels Candy fingering the pale yellow lace of her bra. Candy pinches it just below Honey's right breast, getting a little skin in the process and making the box-girl squeak out loud; the squeak becomes a gasp as Candy draws the flimsy fabric up Honey's chest and exposes one taut nipple to the cool air.
"Oh come on," Reya interrupts, "This is duller than Skinemax. Why don't you--" The rest of her sentence is cut off by the sound of a hand slapping over her mouth.
Candy cups the box-girl's breast and squeezes--it fits perfectly in her dainty hand. Honey breathes hard, trembling. Then Candy pinches Honey's nipple between two fingers and
pulls
.
Honey arches up, crying out around the gag, her entire body going rigid. She scrabbles for a hold on the sheets above her head, then keens even louder as Candy tightens her grip and
twists
. Honey can feel the hot pinpricks of tears forming at the corners of her eyes and staining her blindfold. There's a muffled cheer from the sidelines, probably from Reya.
And then Candy lets go. The sudden relief is as sharp as the pain, and Honey's head spins as she tries to recover from it. Candy doesn't give her the chance; she twists and tugs and rolls her abused nipple between her fingers, making the box-girl moan and squirm helplessly as her frayed nerves are overwhelmed.
Then Candy moves onto Honey's other breast, flipping up the other side of her bra to uncover her completely. Her nipple is already hard, pulled tight and straining to be touched. Candy flicks it once with a finger, and then Honey feels a definite shift in weight as the birthday girl leans down to breathe hot, humid air against the sensitive little bud. Honey's eyelids flutter under the blindfold. She waits for the warm, wet stroke of Candy's tongue, the catch of her metal stud--
--she screams out loud as Candy clamps her teeth down on her breast, creating twin crescents of searing pain to frame her areola. Honey thrashes, kicking her heels against the mattress, her arms shaking with the effort of keeping them out of the way.
"Hang on, I've got her."
A hand lands on top of Honey's wrists, pinning them securely to the mattress; Honey relaxes, just for a moment, grateful to have been relieved of the responsibility. Then Candy breathes hot, wet air against Honey's neglected nipple and swipes it once with the tip of her tongue. Honey chokes on her own breath. Her clit tingles--she tries to rise up against Candy's body for friction, but it's Candy who moans and grinds down her hips without relinquishing the hold of her teeth. The sadistic birthday girl grinds for just a little longer, and with her next sigh of pleasure she opens her mouth to let go of Honey's breast.
Honey sobs once, feeling tears leak from her soaked blindfold to trickle down her temples. Candy soothes her, whispering softly, passing a palm over Honey's damp forehead as she nuzzles into the box-girl's neck.
"You like it when I hurt you, Honey?" Candy murmurs into her skin. Honey moans back enthusiastically, hoping Candy will hear her clear affirmative past the gag.
Candy seems to understand; she opens her mouth and idly bites down on the side of Honey's neck. Honey barely makes a noise this time, just shudders all the way from her pinned wrists to her curled toes. Instead of holding onto one place Candy works her way down Honey's throat, almost chewing, making the helpless box-girl tense every time her teeth close around a new patch of skin.
By the time Candy sits up to examine her work, Honey's head is lolling and she's breathing in short, harsh gasps. She can feel the throb of bruises blossoming over one side of her neck and one breast. She barely even notices the weight over her wrists disappearing, nor the ribbons keeping her top together being unraveled and swept off her skin.
