Sex Slave Ch 04 1

A/N: contains rape; if you do not wish to read about it, then stop right here. Also, POV change.

*****

How had I managed to get myself in this situation?

I stare at myself in the mirror. I have been instructed to wear this by him. I am donned in a black leather cat suit that fits like a second skin. My fingers are covered by the sleek leather gloves that are attached to the cat suit, my arms covered by the same material. My legs look shapely-no doubt from all that perverted exercise I partake in every morning-although still covered by the tight black leather. I'm wearing six inch heels with black rhinestones.

However, my whole body is not fully covered. There are two holes in the chest of the suit, just big enough to pull my boobs through and have them jut out obscenely. And there is a small slit at the apex of the legs, just large enough to fit my pussy lips and clit out. They poke out, squeezed slightly by the edges of the leather hole. The cat suit goes up to my neck, and the final piece must be adorned.

Sighing, I pull the skintight black leather hood over my head. As commanded, I have my hair up in a ponytail, and I pull my thick mane through the hole in the back of the leather hood that molds to my skull. The mask has an attached blindfold and mouthpiece, blocking my vision and any screams that will undoubtedly escape my mouth. There are only two small holes in the mask for my nostrils.

I lie on the bed and wait, as instructed.

How long have I been here? Months? Years? Eons?

I am just wondering if maybe today is my birthday when, from within the mask, I vaguely hear the door creak.

I feel him draw nearer before I feel him pull my arm to the corner of the bed and lock my wrist into a handcuff. Soon my other wrist follows suit. Next, he goes to my ankles and pulls them to each corner of the bed. Nothing new here. Spread-eagle is his favorite position for me.

I feel him between my legs where my pussy is exposed for him to do as he wishes. He pulls the latex leather suit away and slips a small buttplug into my anus. I squirm at the intrusion, but I have grown used to his propensity for toys. He rubs my clit slowly and sensually between two fingers, only long enough to stimulate me slightly. When he removes his fingers, I realize he must have rubbed something onto my clit. Lotion? Cream? I'm not sure, but it starts to warm up.

He moves to straddle my stomach and rubs my nipples between his fingers. Again, just enough to make them stand erect. He leaves the bed, and I realize that the lotion or oil or whatever he's rubbed into me is really beginning to heat up, almost burn uncomfortably. And then, the itching begins.

As I writhe on the bed, trying to stop this incessant need to itch my nipples and clit, I hear a button click. The buttplug begins vibrating very softly. I groan, unable to stop the noise before it's left my mouth.

Another button is clicked, and the entire leather suit begins to cool my skin, everywhere except where I need it most. The contrast of temperatures confuses me, and I am bucking against my bindings, trying to find relief.

I hear him come up to me, standing over me, watching me in my predicament. And then I feel the faintest brush of a feather against my boob. Slowly, it circles my only exposed skin. He starts in large circles at the base of my breast and takes full minutes before he has almost reached my itching nipple. Just a tad farther, and I may find the relief I need. Even the light feather will be enough to itch my aching nipple some. But after minutes of teasing me, he never touches my nipple and proceeds to continue this frustrating teasing with my other boob.

I scream around the gag. I just need one scratch. Please. One scratch. I can't take this. For hours—it must be hours—he alternates between my breasts with the feather, never once touching my erect, itching nipples. Then, he moves down to my pussy. My clit is on fire, and I just need one touch from him, from the feather, from anything. That's all I need.

I writhe in my chains as he strokes the feather lightly up and down my lips, not touching my erect clit, my burning clit. I scream through my gag, needing the feather on my clit. Please. Please. I'll do anything. Anything. But he pays me no heed, as usual, and continues to tease me with the feather, only caressing my lips and nothing more.

After hours of this torture, he moves away, leaving me panting and struggling to get any sort of friction to my clit or nipples. I freeze when I feel a cold ice cube pressed against my left boob. I groan, sensing his plans. As I assumed, he repeats what he did with the feather, circling my boobs slowly, tantalizingly, but never my nipple. I dread when he will move to pussy, but I cannot stop him as he does the same teasing torture to my pussy lips. The ice cube is so near my itching, burning clit, but never once does touches it.

--

POV SWITCH

I watch you squirm and scream around your gag ball as I continuously torture you with the feather and ice cube. It must go on for nearly an hour before the contrasting sensations overwhelm you and you pass out from it all.

I smile. Just want I wanted. I wipe off the itching cream from your red clit and nipples and remove the vibrating buttplug. I take your hood off so I can see your peacefully sleeping face before I crawl between your stretched legs. I begin fingering you furiously. A moan escapes from your throat, but you are still deeply unconscious. I bend down and suck your clit into my mouth, lapping at your juices.

In your heightened need to come, you orgasm quickly. I'm not surprised, considering what I put you through. Once you have had your release, I glance up. Still asleep. You won't remember it. Your body will feel spent, finished, but you won't remember the satisfaction or the pleasure I gave you.

I smile, leaving you chained to the bed, barely able to wait for what awaits you when you wake.