Two Words

Heather was driving home. Dressed in a boring-plain blouse with long sleeves, dark-toned slacks and flat, round-nosed shoes. No one would've notice anything particular about her wardrobe. She felt a slight discomfort in her right hand, and noticed a broken nail. Looked at it for a moment, then chuckled...

***

He was lean, sharp, fast moving, and full of energy. Not heavily built, but in a clearly good shape, and with quite an assertive attitude. One may think he's in his early 30's, if not for a barely noticeable sparks of gray in his hair. He felt nice, friendly and relaxed.

Heather was walking next to him, only half-step back, and was totally mad.

"-- So do you know anything at all about the Spunk Trees?"

"-- No... Sir. I don't."

"-- Oh, that's actually pretty funny, see..."

He looked around as if he didn't want anyone else to hear, and started explaining something. She couldn't listen.

The hose. He told her to dress in a "normal office attire", including pencil skirt, etc. And put on a pantyhose. Plain, body color. Size 'A'. She knew well in advance what's going to happen, but there was no way to say no. Her submissive escapade has begun.

She wasn't a large woman, but definitely not that tiny -- and that darned crotch already slide down so much she felt like it's visible below hemline. Not only that was a ridiculously idiotic, humiliating feeling -- but she actually felt like she could barely walk, let alone ignore the darned thing!

"-- Sorry, are you comfortable, Heather?"

His voice was charmingly caring and full of attention. Like if he did not know!

"-- Yes, Sir, I am well"

"-- Are you sure, Heater?"

"-- Yes... No... I'm sorry!"

(A firework of expletives blasted through her head, and apparently printed itself out on her face.)

"-- You lied to me, Heather. This is not cool."

"-- I am sorry, Sir, I'm sorry! I'm not comfo..."

"-- I know."

His voice was ever so soft...

"-- And this will result in a little bit of an additional punishment."

She blushed.

("I am a fucking idiot. Stop blushing, you!..")

"-- You are so cute when you're angry, Heather. I will think what can I do so this little miscommunication result in a truly exciting experience, when we'll make it to the dungeon."

They kept on walking. He was looking around, genuinely enjoying a beautiful scenery, pointing out little things -- a funny cloud looking like it was stolen from the Simpsons opening sequence, a bicycle rider dodging a cab's suddenly opened door, a seagull hunting for fish...

Heather was uncomfortable, mad, in certain way plain horny, and dedicated to get through -- all the way to the final scene.

Suddenly he slapped her bottom, quick, rough and strong -- she almost jumped out of her hangin' hose and choked instead of yelling at him. That was plain silly and rude, nothing to do with domination!

He looked in her eyes, patiently and attentively. Waiting.

She wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in her mouth.

"-- Let's go play, Heather."

***

The dungeon looked cheap and dirty, with boring, filthy walls, stolen from a decade-old BDSM porn set. Heather noticed the clumsy cross and a rusty cage, then glanced at him...

She was fast enough to drop her eyes down, but noticed something strange -- he was not looking in her eyes anymore, but rather staring through her head, tiny fraction of inch above her pupils. That was awkward.

"-- Take off your clothes, Heather."

Now he sounded flat, almost dull. She felt a buildup of a strange mix of feelings -- fear, worry, curiosity... and she wasn't aroused anymore, but strangely excited, with blood pumping in her head so heavily that she almost felt the veins on her forehead repeating the accelerated heartbeat.

At least now she will be done with them annoying hose! She wanted to throw them away first thing, but kept on quietly placing the rest of her clothes on top of an old wooden box.

"-- Leave the heels, hose and panties on."

(These heels! How-many-inches with straps, oh God, they've already destroyed her feet -- and did he seriously thought that's how she walks in the office?! Ridiculous! The men with their fantasies...)

"-- Stop that chat."

"-- Excuse me... Sir?"

"-- Stop talking to yourself."

"-- Yes Sir. I am sorry Sir..."

He was standing next to her, and next thing she realized is being on the floor, dropped down with a long, heavy slap across her face. She felt a slight taste of blood in her mouth, fear and anger pumped up -- they've agreed that there will be no marks left on the face and hands!

"-- There will be no mark. Now crawl."

She attempted to move sideways on all four, clumsy and inelegant, when a weighty kick in the buttocks threw her forward in a brilliant jolt of acceleration. Heater screamed and attempted to raise on her feet, but was swiftly pushed in a least expected direction, tripped over these darned hose and fell again, shaking.

"-- Heather?"

She caught her breath.

"-- Yes, Sir!"

"-- Please take the pantyhose off, they really hamper your movement."

("You don't say!!" -- sounded in her head for a fraction of second before an extremely painful, short kick in her thigh that dropped her, hurtling. She squeaked again, loud.)

"-- I told you to stop talking. Now give your boys shorts to me."

Heather gave him her panties, and noticed that her hand was shaking. She hated herself for that, but made a super-human effort to keep her face emotionless.

"-- Good girl."

She blushed.

He smiled.

She hold another excruciating blast of emotions from appear.

"-- See that duct tape, there, on the box? Get a piece, and make your panties a gag and stick to it. This will be in your mouth soon and for some time further, I don't want you to swallow them by an accident."

Heather carefully pasted a piece of her underwear to a chunk of gray tape, hating her shaking hands, and passed him the gag. Somehow it occurred to her that she must do that, kneeling -- he looked at her with approving smile and she suddenly felt good.

Blood still pumping in her head, bruised and beaten, she was enjoying the fact that a man whom she finds... well, let's be honest, attractive! -- was treating her like junk. Physically. And maybe even worse, psychologically, but that was somehow the most exciting part.

He carefully stuffed panties into her mouth and pasted the tape to her face.

"-- Did you drink enough water today, as I told you?"

She suddenly felt weak in her knees. Damned. Damned!

"-- You need to go now, silly girl, don't you?"

"-- Mmph!"

He laughed with such a beautiful smile, she was going to give anything to see that smile again... but oh damned, she really wanted to pee now. She reminded her, and now she couldn't pull that thought out of her head. Her bladder suddenly became the most important part of her body, swelling and forcing to squeeze her legs, tight.

"-- Ok, I'm sorry for not giving you a proper warm-up before our little kick-off, hope it helped you to get into subspace... in a bit different way. More like a shock therapy. Now let's do a proper, vanilla workout, I think you'll enjoy it."

She stood silent, he put a pair of padded handcuffs on her hands, grabbed her hair and pulled her, hands down, bended awkwardly, towards the less lighted corner of the room.

A heavy slap on her back dropped Heather down on all fours, and she was left alone for a moment... after which she felt something cold and rounded touching her ass. She jerked away from it and got another kick which dropped her on the floor, than a series of small kicks and pushes and tickles which kept her squirrelling down there, squeaking into the gag, until she raised her cuffed arms in a plea to stop it.

"-- Please be a good girl, Heather. I need you to cooperate. Now sit on the toy."

She looked at a large black butt plug, patiently waiting for her on the floor. Caught her breath and started to stuck herself on the cone-shaped top of it. He came closer and pat her head, then lovingly caressed her breasts, she quietly "oomphed" something, when suddenly he pressed on her shoulders, and she felt the toy inside, together with an incredibly painful spasm which was only getting worse.

"-- Uauooomph!!! Oaaamph!! Ahoumph..."

She cried. He wiped away her tears. Than grabbed her hair once again, yanking her from the floor, and pulled her into another corner of the room.

There, he straightened her up, raised her hands and she felt like handcuffs got hooked on to something, and that this something started to pull up and up, straining little muscles of her shoulders, forcing her to stand on her toes, and exposing her -- hopeless, vulnerable, naked and dirty, with her ass raped and still hurting tremendously, though the first shock wave of pain already passed.

"-- I know that's important to actually feel helpless, nothing like that to cross the point of no return."

He was softly moving around her, playfully massaging her whole body with a leather flogger, which doesn't feel bad at all.

"-- Pretty little breasts... Toned body... You are looking great, my dear Heather."

She heard his voice, but before her brain consumed that simple last statement, a sting ripped through her thigh and made her yell in the taped panties with a blinding loud, and perfectly muffled, howl.

Then the time stopped. Or stretched, to infinity. Riding crop, with something that looked like a steel point on a leather strap was switching to cane, to leather belt, to flogger, to a bamboo stick... He was working out her whole body, making her dance on her toes,grab the chain she was hanging on --trying to save her wrists --scream into these stupid panties, breath like crazy through her nose, twisting her body in a to get into a little bit more stable position -- only to get another sting in a lower part of the hamstrings forcing her to drop and lose balance.

This game was taking eternity, and at some point Heather started to feel a strange bond towards a man who was whipping her, carefully keeping her body from any permanent harm, but leaving lots of marks and bruises -- that wasn't erotic per se, but strangely, the mix of pain and attention was making her feel good. Sinking into submission, forgetting about the way out.

"-- Oh, look at this runny nose, must be hard to breathe like that, your nostrils work so hard... id you forget how badly you wanted to pee, my dear?"

She freeze for a moment, then almost jumped to the room' ceiling --he used an electric "wand" on her, brushing it all the way down her back!

"-- No? Yes? No? Like, right now?"

Moaning, roaring, almost losing her voice to unsound whirlwind of pleasure, Heather's tired body was fighting the new enemy, in vain...

After an eternity has passed, and her reaction smoothed out, the torment stopped. He reached around her and grabbed the plug' foundation. She stood still, than attempted to ever so quietly move away.

"-- Seriously, Heath?"

His smile was unbearable. Out of all the strength she has, she stretched on her toes, grabbing the chain... nothing happened... nothing... a soft pat on the back...

Then a blast of a countless volts of electric lightning discharged directly into her most vulnerable spot between the legs -- immediately after, the plug was violently yanked outside. Heather exploded, including her poor bladder -- felt like all her life is gushing out and away from the least respectable parts of her body, strike of pain and humiliating disgust overwhelmed her, tears were not able to catch up with emotions, and she slide into unconscious. The world around was the same, but she felt not belonging to it anymore.

Her memory didn't keep how he lowered her to the floor, removed the handcuffs, raised her body, and carried her to the bathroom. Lots of lights, it was surprisingly clean there. He placed her on a shower floor, undressed, and returned back. Looking above the pupils of her eyes in that strange manner she noticed before, he pulled the tape from her mouth -- one cheek, then the other. And that was the last bit of pain for tonight.

Cuddling, patting her head and wounded body, he lovingly washed her, like a helpless baby, wrapped her in a fluffy towel and carried to bed. Cheap hotel sheets were feeling so good, and smelled clean too. She fell asleep.

***

Heather was driving home. Dressed in a boring-plain blouse with long sleeves, dark-toned slacks and flat, round-nosed shoes. No one would've notice anything particular about her wardrobe. She felt a slight discomfort in her right hand, and noticed a broken nail. Looked at it for a moment, then chuckled...

"Good girl" -- she heard his voice in her head.

Good girl.