Live - InfernalRestraints

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A friend gave me his smartphone number weeks ago. "Call him. Just call him," she said. I’d stopped dating. It wasn’t the guys. Well, maybe a little. "Look, I’m over ‘relationships’ for the moment. I just want to be by myself for awhile. That’s all." My friend shrugged. "Call him," she said again. I was the youngest of three girls. Hardening up, I’d observed my sisters and their boy friends. Uncomfortable smooches in the barn. Arms groping, shoveled away, more groping. I had dreams, murky photos in my head. And I’d massaged with myself some nights, unsatisfied, my rubbing enlargening my longing. Like boners were doing now. Oh, I’d had lots of boners the last few years, humungous ones, petite ones. boners that were hair-trigger, and boners that had to be coaxed. boners that liked your basic fuck, and boners that wished anything but your basic fuck. And I’d lie in couch afterward with every one of those boners (never guys, or men, just cocks), damp, salty, sometimes rubbing in the dark after they embarked snoring, and I wished more, less, nothing, everything. I wished something I couldn’t admit to myself. I wished and wanted, but I was afraid. "Call him," my friend said. It was the devised lounging in the dark that stopped me from calling, and the smell of supposed love, and the emptiness, the loneliness, the unhappiness that was always worse after it was over. I was rubbing in the dark. When I ultimately made the call, he told me to come alone and to wear a microskirt and blouse. No underwear. My Arms shook. I smoothly-shaven everything that night. Everything but my head. I shoveled a chair in front of the mirror and sat in it, naked. I touched myself, my gams opened up and feet resting against the wall on either side of the mirror. I studied each fold of my snatch and cunt, then touched my frigs to my mouth, degustating myself. And I groped my breasts, watching, toying with my nips until they hardened. I slid my frigs in and out of myself, the frigs of one forearm in my asshole, the frigs of the other in my cunt. And all the while, I watched. I was a stranger to myself. I was nobody I’d ever faced before. The very first thing he did that night was to tie me leaned over a cage. Some other doll was locked inside of it. "You think I’m going to pummel you?" he said, bending close, but not rubbing me. "Only if you’re lucky." And he cocked his head, his eyes sad, as though he pitied me. "Don’t worry." He sneered then, but it made me shiver. "I’m only going to hurt you a little." I wished to say something sexy. I wished to make him want me. I wished to do all the things I’d learned thru the years, the way a doll takes control. But I couldn’t. I was falling. I was out of control. I was cracking into pieces. He sneered because he knew everything the moment he saw me. He’d observed my eyes ramble once he’d unlocked the door to his "special room" and led me inside. The walls were glazed with straps, ropes, chain, shackles. My figure was on fire. That night he cut my garment off me. He chained me to a iron bar. He locked a strenuous steel collar on my neck. Chain inbetween my legs, around my breasts. iron in my mouth, my ass. iron clips pinching my nipples. And later, massager in my cunt. He spread me out spread-eagle, lounging on my back. He packaged leather around my neck and tightened. He cut off my air. He made me come over and over. After he was done with me and let me loose, I kneeled in front of him and smooched his boots. He put a thinner collar on my neck and locked it in place. "You’ll do everything I say. When I call, you’ll come immediately." I stared at the floor. "Yes sir." "You’re mine now." I shivered, not from cold, but from something else, something new, an electricity. For the very first time, I wasn’t rubbing in the dark anymore. "Yes sir."