The Reluctant Gift

============

What do you give the man who has everything?

This story is an entry in the Valentine's Day contest.

All characters in this story are at least 18 years old.

============

Sheri Lawson woke slowly, shivering, not from the cold but from the creepy feeling of a hand stroking the bare skin of her stomach. She was slowly getting used to this, wakening in a fog, slowly recalling her dire situation, testing her restraints to see if anything had changed. Checking to see if her blindfold had been removed, afraid of what she might see if it was.

Her muscles tensed, slowly, pulling at the wrist and ankle restraints, once more confirming she was bound and helpless. The hand brushing across her stomach was gentle as always, soft and callous free. Deceptive.

"Good morning, sleepy head. I've got another surprise for you today." The voice was sexy, feminine, with a hint of mid-western twang. All too familiar.

"Please, please, let me go," Sheri pleaded for the thousandth time.

"In good time. You know the deal. Be good. Be obedient. Be respectful. This will all be over soon if you play by my rules. If you don't, well, it'll all be over soon and I promise you, you won't like the ending." There was a steeliness to her tone that left little doubt in Sheri's mind of what the alternate ending would be.

"Yes, Mistress," Sheri said softly, cowering before the implied threat.

The hand left her belly and she trembled when it caressed her cheek, fingertips running across her lips. "Such a good girl! You are learning. Perhaps no discipline lessons will be required this morning. It would be such a disappointment to have to punish you; today's scheduled to be a fun day."

Sheri shivered involuntarily. Fun. Fun like the three days bound in restraints, spreading her limbs, stretching her far worse than the gymnastics or yoga classes she'd ground her way through in her 24 years on this planet. Fun, like learning the different types of instruments that could be used to strike her body, and having to learn each one by name and feel, thanking the Mistress for her education. Fun, like the icy cold hosing down, and stinking, stinging disinfectant she'd been bathed in. Fun, like the first two full days without sleep, while her body was subjected to a battery of insults which she learned to endure without complaint, swallowing her screams, and only moaning and crying when her spirit was thoroughly broken.

Sheri was learning to obey her captor, even anticipate her wishes. The previous day had been light compared to the earlier ones, the stinging of the welts and the ache of her joints had subsided enough to be barely noticeable. She'd like to keep it that way.

"Thank you, Mistress. I'm looking forward to your attention."

The gentle kiss on her lips was one of the most surprising things to happen to her until that moment. She'd been probed, prodded, pummeled and punished, but always in an abstract, almost asexual manner. Even during the periods when she'd had random items inserted into her most private orifices, it was less sexual, more like an embarrassing intrusion. The warm kiss, with the caress of a tongue across her lips, was totally unexpected. Perhaps not totally. From the outset she'd been afraid of being used and abused sexually, but this was the first sign that her initial fears might be coming true.

She felt the cold steel of the collar snapped back in place, assuring her good behavior. Never again did she want to feel the agony that simple piece of metal could deliver. She would be docile. She would be obedient. She would not, under any circumstances anger the Mistress.

The wrist and ankle restraints were detached from her bed and she quickly turned and sat up, sliding off the padded surface and standing ready. The Mistress was strangely kind, guiding her across the cold tile floor by touch, instead of dragging her by the collar and letting her run blindly into the hard pieces of furniture scattered about the room. Furniture she was learning to abhor.

Five days of blindness had heightened her senses. She could hear the dripping in the toilet area, the quiet footfalls of her Mistress behind her. The coolness of the linoleum under her feet. The smell of wood, of leather and of blood.

Sheri was guided to the 'bathroom' area and allowed to use the toilet. She still felt awkward and unbalanced using the pot in the dark, but her blindfold was always present and absolute. In some ways she appreciated the blindfold, believing that as long as she never saw her captor's face, perhaps she would be freed eventually.

"I think you could use a thorough cleaning, child," the Mistress told her.

Sheri braced herself for the sudden jet of ice water. "Thank you, Mistress," she intoned, bowing her head.

"I want you to close your eyes tightly. I'll be removing your mask for a moment."

"Yes, Mistress. I won't open them."

The cruel chuckle sounded ominous. "I'm sure you won't if you ever hope to see daylight again. I so prefer the mask. With drugs, there's always the chance that your sight won't come back, and of course the agony of blinding makes the slave useless for days."

The mask was unbuckled from behind her head, and she felt the stickiness of the adhesive stretch as the material was pulled away. Secondary patches over each eye were slowly peeled back, then pulled off rapidly, like a band aid. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment before she squeezed them shut. The room was nearly dark, and she saw nothing but the bare concrete wall in front of her during that brief time.

Sheri felt a cool cloth rub around her eyes and temple, removing any last remnants of the adhesive. Then a new cool blindfold was placed over her eyes, this one less padded and slick to the touch. "It's just temporary, for your cleaning."

"Thank you, Mistress," Sheri replied, truly grateful. The old eye-mask had been irritating. Her sweat and tears had caked on the inside and made it rough to the touch.

Another pleasant surprise came when her ever-present wrist and ankle restraints were removed, as was that most evil of devices, the collar of pain. She rubbed her wrists where the leather bracelets had chafed her.

Sheri felt warm water cascade over her skin, and she breathed an involuntary groan of delight.

"Stay still now dear, while Mistress takes care of you. Stretch your arms out in front of you and lean forward against the wall."

"Yes, Mistress."

Sheri felt a large rough sponge, probably natural, rub against her skin. She could feel the slippery soap spread across her body; the smell was settling and calming. She stood still, her hands on the wall, her legs spread a little more than shoulder width wide. She found herself enjoying the roughness of the sponge and the warmth of the water sluicing off the soap and sweat. The Mistress scrubbed everywhere, lifting her feet to get at the soles. The sponge made its way between her legs, under her arms and across her breasts. When it rubbed her privates she tensed a bit, but those areas were treated much like the rest, thoroughly cleaned, but no more.

She was surprised at herself. The first couple of days she had argued, cursed, begged and pleaded. Her mind had run wild with the evils that would be perpetrated against her. Images of endless men using her, fucking her in teams, unable to stop them, helpless to resist. She schemed of ways of getting free, and getting her revenge on the evil woman who held her captive. During the last couple of days many of those thoughts had retreated to the background, and she just looked for ways to get through another day of pain and discomfort, waiting to see what she'd be subjected to next. The pain had become manageable, the discomfort something to be endured for hours on end, the brief respites to be cherished. Moments such as these, under the warm embrace of the shower, were a gift. Don't think about what may come next. Don't dwell on what had passed. Accept what was happening and endure. And don't anger the Mistress. Never anger the Mistress.

Her long hair was grasped in the Mistress's hands, and she could smell the floral scent of the shampoo, and the achingly familiar sound of the liquid being squirted out of the bottle. Fingers massaged her scalp, and thoroughly scrubbed her golden brown tresses. She had been afraid that her jailor would cut her hair, when it got in the way of her punishment, but the Mistress seemed to like it the way it was, and even brushed it several times during her captivity. Her locks were rinsed for a long time, until she could hear the squeaky telltale that all traces of shampoo were gone.

The water was turned off, and a soft towel was used on her, drying her quickly. The towel was left across her shoulders, the only piece of material to cover her body in the last 5 days. She pulled it close and enjoyed the momentary normality.

Her hand was grasped, and something put in it. "Brush your hair now, and be thorough."

Sheri obeyed, fighting to pull the brush through new tangles, tearing at it in a few places, but after several minutes she was able to pull the brush through without trouble. She continued the brushing, reveling in the familiarity of the simple motion, happy to delay as long as possible whatever was in store for her.

"Hair is such a bother, isn't it?" the Mistress said. "That's part of your surprise for today."

Sheri trembled at the insinuation. Perhaps this was just another tease. Would she end the morning bald? One more vicious, pointless punishment performed on her. She wasn't sure if she was meant to answer or not, so she stayed quiet, having found that being told to answer brought about far less punishment than speaking out of turn.

Sheri felt her ankle restraints reattached, and flirted with the idea of kicking out and fighting back. For once, the collar was off and she was free of all restraints. Could she do it? Did she dare?

The answer was simple enough. No. She had no idea if there was a way out of this room, or if the Mistress had that vicious taser handy. She didn't dare risk angering the Mistress. What would she do if she were really angry? Sheri shuddered at the thought. While the thoughts bounced around her brain, the wrist restraints were replaced again, and finally the steel collar was returned to her slender, sensitive neck.

"Close your eyes tight, dear. I have a new blindfold ready for you."

Sheri felt the temporary eye-mask removed, and a new soft padded mask was placed over her eyes. It was wide and allowed no trace of light within. The edges of the mask were pressed in place and she felt the adhesive anchor the cloth at the edges.

"Come, child, we have work ahead of us."

The Mistress guided her across the room where she was encouraged to lay down on a padded table, on her back. Her mind was already working overtime, making up possible embarrassing and painful scenarios. Her wrist and ankle restraints were anchored, holding her firmly in place. Additional straps were tied around her thighs, spreading her legs obscenely open, exposing her nether opening completely.

Hands strayed over her pudenda. She felt fingers running through her coarse hair, tugging gently. "No, this will never do. I'm sorry, child, this may sting a bit."

Sheri almost choked, trying to hold back the laugh. Sting a bit? This from the woman who had blistered and bruised her back, ass, breasts and legs with canes, straps, rods, paddles and whips?

"You are so transparent, sweet thing. Yes, I'm sorry to cause you incidental pain. Disciplinary and educational pain is a completely different matter. And for this reason you may cry out if this hurts, without worry of reprisal."

Sheri could feel the tug and hear the hum of an electric razor shearing her hairs, and warm oil being applied. "Thank you, Mistress. As you wish. Thank you for your kindness." She relaxed, for once not worried that any moment may lead to a blow for a wrong, imagined or otherwise. Praying silently that the hair between her legs was all that would be shorn that morning.

The wax was warm against her skin, and she readied herself for the expected pain. Sheri felt cloth pressed against her skin, and pressure along the length of it. The Mistress pressed down on one end, and with a quick pull stripped the hair off of her. The pain was sudden and intense, and she bit back a gasp. In light of what she'd been put through two days earlier, it was almost a relief. She felt a giggle rise up, and stifled it. She thought she'd be left bare, but she could feel the Mistress slowly working around a small patch of hair left for decoration. The series of stinging pulls, yanking out large patches of hair descended into more precise applications, each one removing less and less of her natural forestation.

"That's more like it," the Mistress intoned.

The Mistress pulled her thigh open wide, painting the sides of her labia with the warm goo, her fingers pushing and pulling her pussy lips to the sides, exposing those hairs to the enveloping wax. A few more applications and Sheri thought she was done. The Mistress had other ideas.

She continued the applications all over again, careful and deliberate, capturing any last strays. These were nearly pain free, quick and to the point. A half-dozen more applications, none more than a quick sting, and the Mistress was applying cool lotion to her mound. The straps on her thighs were removed, and her hand and ankle restraints released.

"Not quite done yet. On your hand and knees now, raise that pretty little bottom up."

Sheri did as requested quickly taking up a position that until then had meant a bruising for her poor defenseless rear end. She'd learned to hate that position. The Mistress spread her cheeks, and she once again felt the warmth of the wax spread down the crack of her innocent ass. The soft cloth felt intrusive, pressing into her anus, down around her pussy, rough against her sensitive skin. She tensed up, and sighed when the cloth was torn away almost painlessly.

The folds and crevices required several more applications before the Mistress was satisfied with the results. Sheri's skin tingled, as if she'd been spanked. Spanked, not beaten. She had learned the difference in the last few days.

"So pretty now, so perfect," the Mistress whispered, her hand massaging more lotion down her crack. The hand lingered, rubbing her, making her squirm, ashamed that she was enjoying the soft touch. She felt her body betraying her, responding to the sensual caress. Was it just another tease before the beatings began again in earnest?

"You have a delicious ass, dear girl. So round and full, so smooth." The Mistress continued fondling her, gently stroking her pussy, running a finger through her moistened opening. A finger entered her, slowly, lingering, before retreating to rub her some more.

"How does that feel, child? Be honest."

Sheri sighed. "I...I like it, Mistress. Thank you."

"And this?" her captor asked, once more sliding a finger into her, followed by a second, reaching deep inside of her.

"Naughty. Dirty," she said.

"Yes. It is dirty. Do you like it? Would you like more?"

Sheri wanted to deny it but couldn't. "Yes, Mistress," she moaned, "more, please." Anything to delay the beatings. Please, Lord, no more beatings. The collar shock was horrible, and the tasering had been a new lesson in pain, but neither could hold a candle to the relentless beatings.

The fingers pierced her repeatedly, while the other hand reached forward and rubbed her sensitive clit. Sheri pushed back, squeezing internally, pulling on the fingers.

"You respond wonderfully. Do you have much experience?"

Sheri felt the blood rushing to her face. "I don't know, Mistress. Not much. Two lovers," she moaned while the woman continued to massage her pussy.

"But none now, no?"

She knew they'd watched her for a while, from the comments when she'd first arrived. They had no qualms about talking about the capture in front of her. They knew where she went and when. They knew her schedule and knew when she was taking off on a vacation, in order to take her when nobody would miss her for a while. Knew where she parked, grabbing her and dragging her into that damned van. The beginning of this hellish captivity. It had been 5, no, 6 days including today. Nobody would miss her at work for at least three more days. She lived alone, and had for quite some time. No hope there.

"No mistress. There's been nobody for nearly a year now."

"Such a shame. A body like yours is a glorious temple. You should be loved, hard and often. Clearly you are not a virgin; how about oral? Do you like it? Are you good at it?"

"I don't know, Mistress." Sheri knew the answer wasn't enough. "I've never done it," she confessed, suppressing a moan.

"Giving, or receiving?"

"Neither, Mistress." The words were getting harder to say, the fingers within her body distracting her.

"Truly?" The Mistress sounded disturbed. "That is hardly acceptable. You hold back your mouth from your lovers?"

"Yes Mistress," she admitted, both embarrassed and angered at the admission.

"And this sweet ass?"

"Never, Mistress."

"A shame. Wasteful. That will change."

"Yes, Mistress," she moaned, pushing back against the fingers which continued their incessant forceful invasion. She could feel a warmth growing in her belly, a need for more. The words burned in her mind. 'That would change.' She would be used after all. How much? How badly? How often? How many?

"But you enjoy sex, don't you? Would you like to come for me, child?"

Again, she struggled to deny it, but feared the possible results. The Mistress seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to lying. "Please, Mistress. Yes."

Just don't hit me anymore, she thought.

Sheri cried out in disappointment when the fingers pulled out of her, moaning when they were replaced with the moistness of a tongue, sliding inside of her. The shock was palpable. She shivered in disgust. A woman was licking her. She realized the insanity of the thought. She'd had no problem being touched by her, not in the way she'd been touched so far. A blessing compared to the usual. But a woman's tongue? Oh, God! Would she be used by women, not men? A man's cock would eventually tire of her, but a woman's artificial hardness used on her could be unrelenting and endless. She shivered at the thought.

Her hands and feet had not been tied down, and she reached back, ashamed of her own actions, spreading herself open. The mouth on her was insistent, demanding, teasing and torturing. The motion moved downward to cover her sensitive nub, wresting more moans of pleasure from her which she fought to suppress. The burning feeling inside was growing, spreading, causing her nipples to harden and her breath to shorten.

In many ways it was like her first spanking session. The feelings intensified, blotting out the rest of the world. Time ceased to matter as the pleasure took over. Sheri felt the feeling build, the pressure mounting, until she didn't know how much more she could take. The oral onslaught was merciless and unending. When she'd reached her limit she groaned loudly, begging for her release, with no more restraint than she'd shown begging for the spankings to stop. "Please, Mistress, please, I'm going to come," Sheri moaned.

The fingers were still probing her pussy. One had strayed into her virgin ass, and the Mistress's mouth was continuing its assault on her clit. Her entire body was trembling. She'd never felt like this before, and it was driving her crazy.

"Mistress!" she cried out.

"Come, baby."

The words opened the floodgates and her body was wracked in spasms as she experienced the most powerful orgasm of her young life. The invading fingers slipped away, and the devilish tongue receded, the small kisses showering her privates all that remained.