A Lunch Brea

Full Chapter Tags: MF/f, Female Dominant, Male Dominant, Female Submissive, Reluctant, Bondage, Bullying, Degradation, Domestic Service, Domination, Gag, Humiliation, Masochism, Nose Hooks, Objectification, Pain, Sadism, Service Submission

Maria took a well-deserved break, settling into a chair to massage her sore feet, but Christina found no such reprieve. Her body ached in every conceivable way as she remained bound to the floor, spread-eagle by chains connected to shackles that dug into her wrists and ankles. The gas mask still clung to her face, her labored breaths filling the mask with a rhythmic wheeze as Jake approached. He carefully lifts the gas mask from Christina's face, her chest heaving as she greedily sucked in fresh air. She then watched him silently with a mix of dread and resignation as he moved to the table, retrieving four small, blunt metal hooks attached to thin black strings. Each hook was meticulously crafted to inflict precise discomfort, their polished surfaces glinting in the dim light of the room.

Jake gently inserted two hooks into each of Christina's delicate nostrils. The sensation was immediate and jarring, sending a sharp jolt of pain through her senses. One hook tugged upwards, stretching her nasal bridge uncomfortably and flattening her nose, while the other tugged sideways, stretching her nostrils unnaturally wide. Jake secured the strings around Christina's head, tying them tightly that they pressed into her skin, ensuring the hooks remained firmly anchored in place.

Next Jake grabbed a Whitehead ratchet mouth dental gag from his collection of toys. He positioned it between her teeth, the cold metal brushing against her back molars. Slowly Jake began to tighten the ratchet, click by click, the gag forced her mouth open wider, her jaw stretching to accommodate the relentless pressure. Each click resonating like the ticking of a clock counting Christina's torment until finally the gag reached its maximum capacity, wrenching her mouth as far open as it could go.

Christina's face was now contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the now dried fluids on her skin. The skin around her nostrils was pulled taut, stretched unnaturally flat and forced open, each breath a painful reminder of her humiliation. Her mouth forced open wider than she thought was possible, the edges of her lips throbbed, close to tearing under the force. Her tongue, held down by the gag, allowed only for feeble mewling noises and gurgles to escape her throat. And yet, amidst the pain and degradation, her eyes betray her, showing an unmistakable desperation, the flickers of excitement that persisted within her.

Next Jake carefully releases the chains from Christina's wrists, leaving the heavy metal shackles in place. He carefully moved her arms around, ensuring Christina had her full range of motion and helped circulation return to her sore limbs. Moving down to her ankles, he removed the chain from the shackles and once again, he takes a moment to manipulate her limbs, ensuring she had full mobility and encouraged proper blood flow to her legs. He then removed the shackles and replaced them with an adjustable ankle cage, securing it firmly around Christina's ankle, heel, and calf with adjustable straps. The device forced her feet into an unnatural arch, adding a new layer of strain to her aching body.

Without a word Jake helps Christina to her feet, but standing for her was an ordeal. The ankle cage forced her to balance on her toes and the balls of her feet, as if she were walking in high heels without the support of the heel itself. She wobbled, muscles straining from exhaustion, and Jake steadied her by the arms, giving her a moment to adjust to this unnatural stance. Once she found her shaky balance, Jake retrieved a coil of rope, pulling Christina's elbows behind her back he tied them together in a waitress-style elbow binder, securing her arms tightly above the small of her back. This forced her hands into a limited range of motion, barely able to reach her stomach or chest.

Christina took an unsteady step forward, her body swaying under the effort, her muscles straining against the confines of the ankle cage. She pressed her trembling body against Jake's, her limited hands grasping at him wherever she could, fingers tracing his form in a silent plea for contact. Guttural, muffled sounds of yearning escaped her lips as drool leaked uncontrollably from her open mouth, dripping down her chin and onto her chest. After being edged and denied repeatedly by Maria the desire inside of her blazed fiercely, a need so intense it now bordered on desperation.

Jake, unmoved by her need, sneered as he shoved her away. "You and your needs don't matter, slut," he said coldly, his voice cutting like a blade. "They never will. You're nothing but a toy for us, a plaything for our amusement."

The force of his push sent Christina stumbling backward. She lost her footing and fell hard onto the floor with a thud. A pained grunt escapes her lips, accompanied by a spray of spittle as she struggles to regain her composure. Groaning in frustration at his rejection, Christina pushes herself up onto her knees as she looks up at Jake her eyes wide, pleading, begging for any scrap of acknowledgment.

Jake's voice was devoid of sympathy. "Get up," he ordered, his tone sharp and commanding. "Go to the closet and find something to clean up that mess of filth you left on the floor."

Christina, still bound and exhausted, awkwardly got back onto the balls of her feet. The weight of the shackles and ankle cage throwing off her movements in tandem with her bondage. The weight of the shackles and ankle cage threw her movements off balance, but she managed to stay upright. Despite the sting of his rejection, she cast a resentful glance at him, her defiance flashing briefly before she obediently shuffles toward the closet Inside, surrounded by an array of cluttered supplies, she scanned for what she needed--a bucket, sponge, and cleaner.

With her elbows bound tightly behind her, even this simple task became a challenge. Christina twists and contorts her body, her restricted arms making it difficult to reach the sponge and cleaner. Eventually, with a strained effort, she manages to grab them and drop them into the bucket that was conveniently on the floor. But the bucket didn't seem to have a handle, so Christina was forced to drop to her knees, to grip its sides with both hands.

Clutching the bucket tightly against her stomach, Christina rose again, her legs trembling beneath her as she struggled to maintain balance. Every movement was strained, each step a challenge as she navigated the room as she made her way toward the sink. Christina's eyes briefly looked around the cabin, it is spacious, with a beautiful blend of modern amenities and rustic charm. Wooden panels lined the walls, giving it a cozy, almost serene feel with large windows that bathed the room in soft, natural light. While most of the furniture had a stylish comfort, there was also an unmistakable dungeon-like atmosphere. Cold metal fixtures scattered seemingly at random on the walls, ceiling, and floor, while BDSM tools and equipment hung prominently on some of the walls. Additionally, there are a couple of large pieces of heavy wooden furniture that seemingly resembled old torture devices tucked away in the corners.

Upon reaching the sink, Christina's frustration mounts as she grapples with the limitations of her limited dexterity. A soft, determined huff escaped her wide-open lips as she awkwardly emptied the bucket onto the counter, fully aware of Jake and Maria's eyes boring into her from across the room. With the bucket nestled in the sink, her movements were slow and deliberate as she poured the cleaning solution into the bucket, determined to perform the task with what dignity she had left. She then twists her body, pressing her hip against the countertop to reach the tap controls, her restricted arms making the once simple task a challenging. As the water flowed, Christina watches intently, too much water would make it impossible for her to carry, but too little would make cleaning even more difficult.

As she worked, Jake moved across the room, the sound of clinking cups and the hiss of steam cutting through the tense atmosphere. With practiced ease, he casually operates an expresso machine, making a steaming brew for himself and Maria.

With the bucket now filled to a manageable level, Christina's muscles strained and her arms quivered under the weight as she lifted it from the sink, but she refused to show any sign of weakness under their watchful eyes. Setting the bucket down with a groan, she reached for the sponge on the counter, only to pause when Jake's voice cut through the room.

"Stuff that into your mouth," he ordered with a smirk.

A hint of hesitation passed through her, but Christina complied, contorting her body awkwardly to obey. Her bound arms made the task difficult, her fingertips only barely being able to brush the inside of her lips. With a resigned sigh, she slowly pushed the sponge into her mouth past the dental gag, feeling it press uncomfortably against her cheeks. The sensation was awkward, degrading, as her cheeks bulged slightly around the sponge, but she held it there, eyes downcast as she struggled to manage the humiliation.

Chrisina picked up the bucked once more and inched her way toward the dried puddle of filth. What should have been a simple task now felt like an insurmountable challenge, each step was slow and deliberate not wanting to drop the bucket. Christina set the bucket down with a heavy thud then kneeled beside it. She hesitated for a moment, then reached up, carefully pulling the sponge from her mouth with clumsy fingers. The indignity of the moment burned deep, but she bit back her frustration, focusing on the task ahead.

Meanwhile, Jake casually returned to Maria's side, balancing two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. He passed one to her with a knowing smile, then leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Christina's struggle. Maria let out a soft laugh, clearly amused by the scene unfolding before them. Together, they watched her fumble through the simple act of cleaning, their relaxed demeanor in stark contrast to Christina's awkward labor. Each laugh, each smirk, added to the growing sense of humiliation that weighed heavily on her, but they seemed content to observe, sipping their drinks as though they were watching nothing more than a casual show.

Dipping the sponge into the hot, soapy water, Christina focused on the floor before her. Christina leaned forward planting her hand beside her stomach, she braced herself awkwardly against the floor, her body trembling under the strain of maintaining balance. She moved slowly, the sponge circling over the stained floor with painstaking care. Crawling on hands and knees, Christina grappled with the weight of her own upper body, the uneven distribution testing her resolve with each laborious inch.

As she scrubbed, Christina's thoughts began to drift with a mix of confusion and introspection. Memories of her high school days, marked by loneliness and isolation, flooded back to her, back then, it seemed no one noticed her, no one cared whether she succeeded or failed. Even now, as an adult, those same feelings of inadequacy haunted her. No matter how hard she tried to improve herself, she never attracted the admiration or attention others seemed to receive so easily. Yet, in this moment, everything was different. Here she was, the center of attention for two striking yet evil individuals. They took pleasure in her suffering, relished in her humiliation, and that realization cut deeply. Still, a strange and uncomfortable satisfaction gnawed at her from within. For once, she mattered, even if only as a plaything for their amusement. The paradox of it all twisted in her chest, leaving her grappling with conflicting emotions: the pain of humiliation, but also the strange allure of finally being noticed, even in the worst way possible.

Maria's laughter rang out, sharp and biting, as she mockingly chided Christina. Her voice dripped with disdain. "Hurry up, you useless twat," she sneered, her tone laced with cruelty. "If you don't pick up the pace, your nasty little holes are just going to end up making a new mess."

Maria's words cut deep, amplifying the already crushing weight of Christina's humiliation. She couldn't deny the cruel truth in the taunt. Her forced-open mouth had been drooling uncontrollably, strings of saliva dripping from her lips to the floor in an unending testament to her degradation. Yet, as mortifying as the mess was, it wasn't the only thing she had to contend with. The heat between her thighs was impossible to ignore, no matter how desperately she pressed her legs together in an attempt to stop the trickle of moisture that slid down her thighs. The effort only served to heighten her awareness of her vulnerability, each movement a reminder of how utterly exposed she was. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the fiery heat of her humiliation mingling with the reluctant arousal that she couldn't suppress, no matter how hard she tried.

Christina worked methodically, her movements slow and labored, cleaning as best she could despite her restricted mobility. She had managed to scrub over half the living rooms floor when Jake's voice cut through the air, sharp and condescending. "As much as I enjoy watching a worthless waste of human flesh struggle," he drawled, his disdain palpable, "you're doing a terrible job. Let's be honest you're just going to end up making the floor filthy again. So really, what's the point of cleaning it now?"

Christina's eyes widened in a mix of disbelief and defeat as she stared up at him, her mind reeling. Every ounce of effort she'd poured into the task, the strain on her muscles, the indignities she'd endured, it all suddenly felt meaningless. A guttural groan escapes her throat as she tries to vocalize her disbelief, but the dental gag renders her attempts incomprehensible. Unable to fully express her anger, she could only look at Jake with pleading eyes, silently begging for an explanation, for mercy that she knew wouldn't come

Jake didn't offer either. Instead, he strode toward her with measured steps, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he yanked her upward, forcing her onto her toes. The sudden pain shot through her scalp, and she winced, her body instinctively trying to relieve the tension.

"I'm hungry, and you're going to help make all of us lunch" he announced coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I would have you do it, but we don't have all day to sit around and wait for you to make a simple sandwich."

The weight of his command settled over Christina like a crushing tide, her body trembling as she struggled to maintain her balance on her toes, her hair still firmly clutched in his grip as he lead her towards the kitchen. Jake's words echoed in her mind, each syllable driving home the stark reality of her situation. She wasn't even worth the effort of being allowed to prepare food--something so basic, so menial, yet she had been deemed too incompetent for it.

The dismissal stung more than any slap or shove could have. She wasn't just powerless; she was insignificant, a tool to be used, mocked, and discarded. The casual disdain in Jake's tone, the way he didn't even consider her capable of performing the simplest task, left her feeling lower than she thought possible. Her chest tightened with a mix of shame and helplessness as her mind raced, desperately trying to cling to some semblance of dignity that had long since slipped through her fingers.

On the way to the Kitchen Jake paused and effortlessly picked up and put away all the cleaning supplies. Even while dragging Christina around by the hair his movements fluid and efficient, a stark contrast to her earlier struggles. The ease with which he tidied up the mess she had painstakingly labored over served as yet another cruel reminder of her diminished role in this twisted dynamic. Every action seemed designed to underline her inadequacy, the gap between them growing ever wider with each passing moment.

"Now go get the baguette, cunt," he barked from behind her finally letting of her hair as the walked into the kitchen, his tone cold and commanding. "It's in the pantry."

Christina flinched at his words but quickly moved toward the pantry, her steps cautious yet deliberate. Years of navigating crowded nightclubs in stilettos seemed to resurface as she tried to steady herself, her movements more controlled than before. Opening the pantry door, her eyes settled on the baguette perched on a middle shelf, just out of reach. She pressed her body sideways against the shelves. Her fingers brushed the crusty loaf, and with a strained effort, she managed to clutch it tightly and ease it free. Turning back toward Jake, she walked over to him extending the baguette toward him with both hands, her head lowered slightly in submission.

Jake snatched the bread from her grip without a word or glance, the casual dismissal cutting deeper than she expected. "Too slow bitch," he grumbled, his tone dripping with impatience. "Now go and get the butter from the fridge."

Her pulse quickened as she hurried toward the refrigerator, the sting of his critique spurring her to move faster. Christina pulled open the door, her eyes scanning the shelves until they landed on the butter tucked into the top shelf of the door compartment. A sigh of frustration escaped her lips as she realized the position was just out of reach. Determined not to fail, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead and nose against the cold plastic cover of the compartment. Then with a series of nudges and pushes, she manages to lift the cover up. Then she does the same motion to shift the package of butter until it slides off the shelf and lands on the floor with a thud. Christina dropped into a squat, her shackled hands fumbling slightly as she scooped the butter into her palms. Rising again, she used her hip to nudge the fridge door shut before returning to Jake. She held the butter out toward him, her arms trembling under the weight of his silent judgment.

Jake took the butter from her hands with an impatient grunt, barely sparing her a glance. "Now, go and get me the ham. It should be over there in one of the black canvas bags," he ordered, his tone making it clear that he expected nothing less than immediate compliance.

Christina, her emotions swirling between frustration and reluctant compliance, nods silently in acknowledgment. She makes her way to the black canvas bags on the other side of the kitchen. Kneeling beside them, she rummages through their contents one by one. Her bound elbows make the task slightly more difficult, but she persists, methodically sifting through the bags until she find the pre-packaged deli meats. Christina makes sure to grab only the ham and returns to Jake's side. Without a word, she presents it to him, her eyes downcast in silent submission, her shoulders sagging under the invisible weight of her circumstances.

Jake continues to pay little attention to Christina as he snatches the pre-packaged deli meat from her grasp. "The last two things we'll need," he states, his tone indifferent, "are the Brie cheese and arugula. They should both be in the fridge."

Determined not to falter again, Christina moves quickly to the fridge. She crouches to retrieve the arugula from the vegetable compartment, the cool plastic bag crinkling under her touch. Rising, she spots the Brie cheese on the middle shelf and carefully maneuvers it into her grasp. Balancing both items in her hands, she shuts the fridge door with her hip and hurries back to Jake, offering him the ingredients with her eyes downcast, silently awaiting further instructions.