Gilded,
Light,
Trailing,
Black.
One.
One exists.
Only one.
Baroque threaded,
Gold, copper.
Tight waist.
Flowing folds.
No more.
Ever.
Yours for four days for the shoot–tomorrow off Rivington. Editorial privilege.
Retrospective piece.
Yours tonight, Friday and the weekend.
So hungry. Control yourself. It only just fits after four days of fasting.
Mine now. Editorial privilege.
Doorbell. Let me in. Twirl and smile, mock curtsey.
Smile back. Low whistle. Rare beyond rare.
You remember. It's the one we saw just before he died.
Lift the hem, heel out and smile.
The Louboutins. Excellent. Good girl. Never need to lock you in those...
Hold you a away. Twirl again. Giggle. Then beside you and a handful of hair. Hand on your belly and over. You squat.
No, don't duckwalk. Straighten your legs. Good, at the waist, as I taught you.
Two steps, three. Pause. Hand around my waist, now.
You know this, girl. Better. Hips higher.
Wait...this is special.
I know. You took me to the show. Remember? Right after he died.
Balk. Stop. Hair hard and face into my waist. Hand beneath your chin and pulled step by step. Resist. Thumb in your jawline, lock you in tighter. Pain. Focus. Relax. Walk–down the steps, down the hall...Nothing to be done but be led.
When did you last eat?
Left. Away from the stairs. Hardwood. Damnit. No no NO.
Head pulled up and hips hit hard granite edge. Pull back, let go. Twist. Arms trapped behind. Strappado lift. Arm under hips, just at the bend. Up and onto the work surface. Fight. Knees under, force your way down–try. Hand loose from your hair. Into back of your knees and slide. The other on your back. Head bangs on the countertop.
Fuck.
Rope, quickly around your knees. Through. Back of neck. Expedient. Push away, hands reversed and trapped. Wrists then elbows. Not tight, but no escape. Ankles bound, each. Knees released. Fight, but legs splay anyway. Re-rope neck.
Through your legs and to the eyelet at the bottom of the counter.
Hate me.
I'm glad we added the hardware to the island. I enjoy working on you in here.
Stop. Fuck. Stop. Please...
Calm down. Breathe.
Jute blindfold pulls your head back, tight.
Please. Marks.
Quiet. Three more wraps. Mouth open. They've seen these marks before. They know already.
They do! THEY DO! I don't care! It's the dress! Muffled drool.
Skirt up and over. Thong pulled left and tied. Silicon. A finger. Moan. Lurch forward. Another wrap passed through. Cunt! Damn the eyelets! Settled, immobile, two fingers, then three. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Skirt pulled free from wraps. Drape over your head.
Oh God, the dress. You know now. Where I'm going. Suspected before, but KNOW now. No. Please. No.
Nothing.
Relent. Footsteps. Refrigerator door.
Oh, good, still some cake.
Rattle of porcelain on granite in between your legs. Test bonds. PULL!! Nothing.
Footsteps. Off away into the hall. Susurration. Crinkle. Sound of splitting metal. Again and again.
Silence. Hours and hours. Thumbs on you. Stretching, massaging. Signal and trained to relax, settle further. No more resistance. Nothing stops. Nothing abides. Breathe and be.
Wide, soft, chill. Grunt. Passes in. Another and another. Four, five, six...filling. Strawberries. Struggle. Hold. Again, training works. Thirty minutes. The punnet, whole.
