Creating Anna-Part 1

*My name is Anna and this is the story of how I became Master’s slave*

I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that I’m being watched.  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up constantly.  At first, it only happened when I was outside of my apartment.   But over the last couple of months, I feel the seeds of unease even at home. 

I’ve taken to leaving the lights on.  They are the round clapper like lights that I’ve been able to place in various parts of my tiny apartments.   But these just seems to increase the shadows looming over me. 

I’ve woken in a cold sweat twice this week.  It’s as though there is someone touching me as I sleep.  I feel pressure when I’m sleeping, and it terrifies me.

My mother tells me I’m simply overworked.  Maybe it is time for a vacation.  A place bright and sunny, full of museums and libraries that i can peruse at leisure.

Maybe I just need to up my pills.  Anxiety is a tricky thing after all

There is a storm outside tonight.  I can hear the wind whipping against my windows.  I fear they may shatter all around me.

The sky is a dark torrent, barely visible through the torrential downpour. 

I used to love these types of storms.  I could spend my nights walking through it, getting soaked to the bone a d loving every minute of it.  Now, they frighten me. 

I don’t feel safe anymore.  I think I am losing my mind.  I’ve come home, and things have moved.  I swear I’ve left a cup in the sink and I come home to find it missing.  I’ve left my house darkened and come home to the soft hum of music from my radio.  Everything is locked.  I don’t understand what is happening.

I live alone.

At least, I used to.

Do you ever just close your eyes and imagine that if you can’t see something then it shouldn’t be able to see you?

I didn’t used to.  I mean, honestly, it is almost as childish as believing that if you are under a blanket then nothing can get you.  That’s just not reality and I prefer to live in reality.

But my reality has been changing.  I’m being stalked…At least, I think I am.  Things are moving in my apartment when no one is home.  I feel as though I am being watched.

Of course, today just confirmed my suspicions.  I came home to a gift. 

There is was, lying on the pillows in my bedroom.  It was a brilliant silver wrapping, with an emerald green bow.  My favorite colors.  My name was written delicately on a small white tag.

I wasn’t sure what to do.  I shouldn’t open it.  It could be dangerous.  It could be a trap.  I should report what’s happening.  But I doubt they wouldn’t just laugh at me and think I need some mental help.

So, against my better judgement, I peek inside.

There is tissue paper folded neatly beneath the lid with a note nestled on top.  My hands are shaking as I read the delicate scrawl.

“My pets should always look pretty for Me.”  The words taunt me.  I am unsure what it even means.  A pet?  Like a dog?  Who says that?

My curiosity still gets the better of me as I move aside the creepy note and unwrap my gift.  Inside is a beautiful green lace babydoll.  It’s a dark emerald.  There are matching garters and black, sheer stockings–the ones with the solid seam line up the back.

They are my size.

I feel my breath catch.  They are beautiful and creepy.  I want to know who is there.  Why won’t they just talk to me like a normal person?  Why won’t they leave me alone?

The next week brought three more gifts.  All wrapped in the same boxes and all with the now familiar scrawl that taunted me.

“You will never be far from Me, pet.”  That note rested atop a dog leash.  I was quite surprised at that.  I don’t like these games. 

“I always know where My pets are.”  That came with a stack of pictures.  All of them were of myself, snippets of my everyday life.

The last was the worst. 

“It’s better if you don’t scream, pet.”  As I stared at the gag lying before me, I felt the worst shocking sensation and the world went black.

My head is throbbing, and my eyes are heavy.  I blink slowly, trying to get my barring.  I shift and am surprised to find my legs and arms are free.  I see a door across the room and I try to bolt as the memories assault me.  I don’t even manage to kneel up from my seated position before I am stopped.  A thick metal collar is locked around my neck and a chain leads down to a ring in the floor.  I’m sure I only miss it due to my panic and need to escape.

I close my eyes and suddenly I hear a dark, almost haunting chuckle behind me.  The hairs on my neck stand on end and I try to turn to see you.  The hands that wrote such sweet words to me.  The voice that taunted me.  The man who kidnapped me.

You have the patience of a saint and it bothers me greatly.  I’ve screamed at you from my position on the floor and you simply smiled at me.  I’ve called you names so vulgar I’m sure my mother would disown me if she heard them.  I’ve pounded on the floor and tried more than once to yank the chain from its ring.  Nothing has worked.  Still, you simply watch.  Youve said nothing.  All I’ve heard is that dark chuckle and it infuriates me.

All that can be heard is my heavy on breathing.  The blood is rushing through my ears and my hands are raw and torn from pounding on the wood floor.  What little light there was coming through the window has all but dissipated.  We must have been here for hours.

I want to make you angry.  I want to go home.  If I can make you angry you will probably hurt me.  But you are also more likely to make a mistake.

“Are you ready to listen, pet?”

I refuse to look at you.  I’m not playing your game.

I don’t hear anything else, but I am surprised when your hand grips my jaw and forces my head up.  I hadn’t even heard you move.

“When I ask you a question, you will give me a verbal answer.  Is that clear?”

I stared deep into your eyes and spit at you.

I’ve succeeded in angering you.  That was my first mistake.

Your eyes flashed.  Your grip on my chin tightened harshly.  You wiped the spit from your chin and smeared it across my own face.  I closed my eyes in disgust.  I shouldn’t have.  Then I may have seen the back of your hand coming.  The pain blossomed immediately, and the force turned my head to the far right.  My eyes watered but I am determined not to cry.

I felt my collar being tugged and you lifted me like a rag doll.  The chain wad long enough to let you bend me over the bed but i knew it would not allow it for long.  The metal was pushing into my throat and I struggled to hold my head up to shift the pressure from my windpipe to the back of my neck.  I could feel the strain in my shoulders even before you yanked my hands behind by my back.  I felt the cold metal of handcuffs biting into each wrist.

You yanked my hair and pulled my body until I was on my knees.  You leaned in and whispered, “You will not move, pet.  I will leave you to think about whether you want this to be easy or difficult?  Choose carefully.” 

You stood, your fist still wrapped tightly in my long hair.  You pulled me head back further, my eyes watering again.  You wrenched my jaw open with your other hand.  I couldn’t close it if I tried. As I had done to you, you spit in my open mouth.  Now I had dried spit on my forehead and cheeks, and a fresh set in my mouth.

“Be lucky I’m bothering to give you a choice at all.  You certainly do not deserve it.”  You threw me down and walked away.  The only confirmation was the closing of the door. 

I clambered back to my knees and rested my forehead against the bed linens.  I started to cry quietly.  I’ve learned an important lesson today.  Making you angry will not bring me freedom. 

Does that mean I have any hope of ever being free?

I’ve been here in this room three days now.  You’ve let me up only a few times to relieve myself.  But you’ve never left me alone.  You watch every move I make. 

I’ve given up trying to talk to you.  You simply stare at me until I am quiet and then simply pretend as though I’ve never spoken.  I am to the point where I simply talk to myself when you leave me alone.  It keeps the shadows away.

You removed the handcuffs from me only an hour ago.  My wrists are swollen and shredded.  I tried all night to get out of them when you didn’t come back.  I don’t like being bound.  It makes me feel vulnerable.

I didn’t even bother to look up when I heard you enter.  Your footfalls are so light, if the door didn’t catch slightly on the floor boards, I’d never know you were here.

I wonder what you want this time.  I know I want a shower.  I want a moment to myself.  I doubt either will come soon, but I’m coming to the realization that I am not going home anytime soon.

Now, I just need to figure out what you want with me.

I find it almost humourous that I do not know your name.  There is nothing in this room that hints to your identity, nor really anything about you.  I can see the opulence in your choices and some obvious wealth, though I am unsure if it is old money or new money based on the furnishings.

I don’t know what to call you when I think about you.  Because, as much as I am determined to not give you any of my time, there is little to do beyond think with all the hours you have gifted me. 

The hours torment me, as I’m sure you know.  You watched me long enough to know the silence is deafening.  It mocks me.

I’ve screamed myself raw but still the door remains closed.  Have you silenced this room to the outside world?  Do you have guests over who remain ignorant to my captivity?  Does it make you smile ever so twistedly to watch me squirm and cry and struggle?

Maybe I can bargain with you.  Maybe you will give me a taste of freedom, to lengthen my chain, for a piece of my soul.

I finally dozed off for a few minutes.  I leaned back against the side of the bed and closed my eyes.  No sooner did I succeed in sleep were you opening the door to my cell.  All I want to do is sleep, to forget about you and me and this situation.  But you won’t let me.

I’m to the point of seeing things in the corners of my eyes, lurking in the dark.  The edges around you are fuzzy with my exhaustion.  I’m not sure I could even fight you at this point.  I’ve not eaten since I’ve been here, and you’ve limited my water to leave me weak.

“Kneel up.” You’ve left the door open this time.  I’m sure you are taunting me.  I’m smaller than you, I’m sure I could slide beside you and out the door, but I’m not sure how far freedom is from this door. 

“Do not make me tell you twice, pet”.

I turned slowly, pushing your patience I’m sure.  But you’ve taken me unwillingly, I will be damned before I bow to your will.

I kneel up and boldly look you in the eye.  I’m not going to let the double vision allow me to be intimidated.

You move towards me with a grace I want to deny.  I wonder for a split second if you will hurt me again.  But, then again, so far you have only been reactive to my own rebellion. 

Tell me, are you kinder when I do as I’m told?

A continuation of your story:

I stared you down defiantly but even I recognize how comical it must be to see such determination from a captive….pet. That’s what you keep calling me.  I’ve almost forgotten my own name at this point, so desperate am I to hear it.  To hear my mother scold me over the phone for being paranoid, to hear my coworkers say my name as they ask for help with the broken copier only I seem to be able to fix.  I simply want to be more than your prisoner.

You told me to present myself by placing my face on the floor and keeping my ass in the air.  I slowly complied, I am tired.

My forehead was touching the duvet where it meets the floor, allowing my face to remain hidden.  You must have read my thoughts, as you simply grabbed my hips and pulled me back far enough the all of me was exposed and you could circle a full 360 around me. 

The cool leather of your boots nudged my pussy lips, causing me to jerk a little.  You chuckled and used the side of your boots to push my legs apart: shoulder width, that’s what you expect.

“Show me what you have pet” You casually commanded. 

I was flummoxed.  I did not understand what you meant.  I moved to roll over and show you my front but your boot on my back stopped that chain of action.

“I did not tell you to break rank.  Bring your hands back pet, and spread your cheeks.  I want to see what treasures you keep hidden.”

Humiliated, I did as I was told.  I closed my eyes and breathed deliberately through my nose.  I didn’t think it could get worse.  Until you said something that, I didn’t know I would soon be very familiar with.

“Wink for me.”

It is the weirdest thing to be told.  I’ve never thought about anything with my ass before.  After all, only immoral girls let men near there.  That’s what momma taught me. 

I was unsure of your demand, but when you dragged a finger across my pucker and it spasmed involuntarily, I understood what you wanted.  And it humiliated me even more than just hearing you say it.

I felt something cold run down my crack and instinctively I went to move.  You out your hand on my lower back to still me.

“Do not move.  If you fight me, I will make this as painful as possible pet.”

I hate when you talk to me like that; like I am an animal. 

I felt something cold push against me.  It felt so big and blunt.  It hurt.  I tried to pull away but you held me still.  It was being pushed further and further in.  My muscles felt torn and my back had jolts of pain shooting up it. 

“Please…”. I let out a small sob.  I’m not even sure what I am asking.

As soon as it started, it stopped.  I felt so full and pulled so taunt.

“You may kneel up pet.  You will wear that plug unless I remove it.  Right now it is simply sitting there.  Try to remove it and I will make the next one bigger and lock into place.  Is that understood?”

I kept my head down and refused to answer.  I was still trying to acclimate to what had just happened.

You gripped my hair and pulled my head back to look at you.  “You will answer when I ask you a direct question pet.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.”. You gripped tighter.  “Yes Sir.”

“Good girl.”

It is Incredibly awkward to sleep with something inside of me.  I constantly feel like I have to go and the pressure never seems to let up. Everytime I move, it shifts.  Sometimes I feel almost a small jolt of pleasure, sometimes it just annoys the hell out of me.

I was severely tempted to try and remove it.  But, if what I felt the first time was you going easy, I do not want to feel what you consider painful. 

You’ve checked on me a few times.  I always feel your presence.  You carry yourself so well, like it has been bred into you.

I think my imagination has run wild about what you are capable of.  I half expect you to drag me into a concrete room, chain me up, and torture me with car cables. 

I’ve also been expecting you to take what you want from my body.  But you seem to be waiting for something.  Even with the plug I’m wearing, you were gentler than I feel you should have been, considering you have already kidnapped me and are holding me here as a prisoner.

I just wish I understood you.

“You did very good pet.  You made it all night without trying to remove your plug.”. You are chuckling again.  I’ve decided that laugh is evil and only means trouble for me.

“I think I’m going to reward you pet.  We are going to play a game.”.

Those words fill me with dread. 

You wander over to me and grip my hair.  Then you unlock the metal collar that has kept me tied here for so long.  It feels weird not to have it.  Like I’m missing something.

I shake my head.  Those are bad thoughts to have.  I need to be relieved that I am no longer restricted so tightly.

You trade my metal collar for a leather one.  It is a plain band.  It reminds me of your belt.  I’m not sure why I noticed such a thing.  Maybe it’s to help me to stop from going crazy.

I know I cannot overpower you.  You have shown me as much.  I wonder if you merely keep me tied for your enjoyment or simply because it helps break down who I am quicker.

Around my upper arms, you clasp a metal band.  They don’t connect to anything, nor do they have rings to hook me to anything else.  They baffle me.

The same type of band goes around each of my thighs.  And then I feel you push your thumb against my clit and rub quickly.  I can’t help but gasp and I try to wiggle away.  It does nothing but frustrate me more.

You slide two fingers none to gently inside my pussy and I know you can feel my shame.  You have made me wet.  As much as I desire to be free, you have managed to turn me on better than anyone before.  Then again, you’ve hurt me more than any other man ever has.

I feel you clip something to my clit.  It is applying light pressure that is sure to keep me shamefully wet.  I’m not sure what it is but I can feel it is a long bar that extends past my outer lips.

I shift when you tell me to stand and I hear the most ridiculous sound.  A bell.  You have fucking tagged me with a bell.

I swear to God that one day I will pay you back in kind.

“Are you ready for your reward pet?” You asked mockingly. 

“Yes Sir”. I hope it involves wringing your neck, I think silently.

“You are going to run.  If you can out run me for the next thirty minutes, you will go free.”. You stopped for a minute.  I am waiting for the catch.  “If you do not, you stop fighting me and you start learning.  If I win, you will stay, of your own free will.  Are the rules understood?”

My eyes light up.  “Yes Sir”.  All I have to do is outrun you.  You look athletic Sir, but I am far smaller.  I should be able to slip past you.

“I will give you a sixty second head start.”. You pulled a small round object from your pocket.  I expect it is a stopwatch.  “Go.”

I took off.  That ridiculous bell echoing throughout the house.  You said I had to outrun you, not that I do it silently.

I flew as fast as I could to the nearest door.  But when I grabbed the handle, I felt electrical shocks spasm through my muscles.  I screamed.

You stood at the top of the stairs smirking.

“I should have warned you pet.  Those bands you wear are part of a shock system that has boundaries.  Only one spot that leads outdoors does not have the boundary shockers. Every time you touch one, the shocks will increase by one.  They will become stronger.  You better get moving girl.  Twenty-four minutes to go”

I struggle to stand.  I will not give you the satisfaction of watching me give up.  You can shock me a hundred times, but I will keep trying.

The bathroom window was not the exit.  Twenty-one minutes and some very shaky legs are what I am left with.

Did you know there is a secret exit through the pantry?  Of course, you do; it shocked me after all.

“Seventeen minutes pet.  You might want to try recovering faster.”

You make no move to go near me.  My body is full of tremors now.  I’m not stopping. 

A little more slowly I move through to these beautiful French doors, surprised when I can push them open without being shocked.

Then I find myself disappointed to realize they do not lead outdoors.  They lead to a Master bedroom.  At least, I believe it is if the King size bed is anything to go by.

I’m distracted.  You are so kind to inform me as such.  Nine minutes left.  I fear I may have to stay here willingly or spend the rest of my days tied up.

Three more doors and enough shocks to tame a lion.

Three minutes left.

I refuse to beg for my freedom.  I will not give you the satisfaction.

Two minutes.

I’m limping badly, and I feel like my skin is burned.  I hurt so bad.

One minute.

I grip the kitchen door and turn the knob.  There are no shocks.  I open it with you counting down the seconds.

I come face to face with a brick wall.  It was a door to nowhere.

The exact place I will be going.

I collapsed to the floor with a sob.  I am stuck here, by choice no less.  Foolishly I agreed to your entertainment, I hoped I could outrun or outwit you.  I failed.

I could care less if you see me cry.  You have taken everything from me.  You’ve taken my family, my home, and even my companionship.  I am a caged animal to you.

When my sobs settled, I felt your hands on my shoulders.  You lifted me and I gave up trying to resist.  You made your point.

You surprised me when you picked me up and carried me back up the stairs. 

You laid me down on the bed, the same one I’ve spent so long chained to.  I felt one of the metal band shift down a couple inches and something cool placed on my skin.  You repeated the process three more times until each spot was adjusted and coated.

“I prefer my marks be less permanent pet.  We will take care of these burns.”.  You sound almost kind.  But you do not fool me.  You are a wolf. 

“I am going to leave you untethered pet.  You will join me for meal times.  If you are good, you may eat.  Your bands will stay on.  You are not to leave this room unless otherwise told.  If you choose to ignore the warnings, look down and see your burns.  I have turned up the intensity of the boundary.  I doubt you will be conscious afterwards.  You will be punished in addition to that as well.  Do not push my good will nor mistake my kindness for weakness.  I will enjoy this either way.  In fact, I enjoy it far more when you rebel.”

With those words you left me laying there, with the door open.  You are testing me.  You are waiting for me to make a mistake again.

For tonight, I find I am too exhausted to even think about it.  Maybe Dawn will bring a decision to mind.

You came to my door again.  It doesn’t feel like it has been that long since you left me. 

I don’t say anything as you walk over.  I’m stretched out on my back on the bed, my arms at my side.  My fists are curled tightly. 

I flinch slightly when your fingers touch my face.  I’m expecting you to slap me.  But you don’t.  Your fingers slide down my cheek, across my throat and down through my collarbone.

Your fingers trail between my breasts and across my stomach.  You skip down my thighs and trace down my legs.  First the left and then the right.  I feel your fingertips on my inner thigh and my body tenses.  You flick your finger against that bell, the small ching sound mocking me.

Without reservation, you grab the bell and tug.  It pulls at my clit but snaps off cleanly.

Instantly I am throbbing as the blood rushes back through my body.  My body spasms around the plug still in me.  I am ashamed to admit you have made me wet.

I never realized how sensitive I am.  I was never like this before.

You push two fingers against my clit, the pressure unbearable.  I just want you to move.

As though you can hear me, you rub my clit back and forth rapidly.  It is so overwhelming.  I can feel my muscles contracting rapidly and I cannot help the gasps that are escaping me. 

My orgasm is building.  I’m conflicted at how I feel but I am a slave to my own reactions.  Suddenly you still your hand.

“Arms above your head pet.”

I complied.  You handcuffed me to a ring in the wall.

You went back to playing with me.  Anytime I felt close, you would change the rhythm or the spot.  You have made me so sensitive and frustrated.

After a few minutes you put a green dildo to my lips.  I stubbornly kept them closed.


No response.

“I’m going to make this very easy. How ever wet you get this, is the amount of lube you receive.  Your choice.”

I turned my head from you.  I’m not ready to give in to you.  I hope you do not follow through with your threat.  Then again, the burns on my body tell me you mean business.

“Very well”. You sigh softly.

You stop playing with me and place the toy next to me.  I feel the bed bounce back as you lift yourself from it.  I follow your movements and start to curl my legs toward my body when I see you reach for them. 

You yanked my right ankle harshly and stretched it firmly to the corner of the bed and handcuff my ankle to the bedpost.  Regardless of me trying to kick you, you quickly repeated the process with my left.

My body writhed against the bonds.  I can feel the metal digging in fiercely.  There are sure to be marks tomorrow.

You wrestle a blindfold onto me.  It leaves me vulnerable.  I cannot see what you will do nor if you have people with you.  I hate it.

I feel something blunt at my opening.  I can only assume it is the toy I refused to suck.  True to your word, it was pushed in in one harsh thrust.  I let out a pained groan as I felt the tears well in the corner of my eyes.

Did you know I was a virgin?  You must have for all you followed me.  I’ve never had a kind relationship with a man. 

Maybe this is just my luck.

I felt the toy start to move.  I’m not sure what is happening other than the toy is fucking me.  After a few moments, I feel something vibrating against my clit.  I try to maneuver away from it.  It feels so good, but the vibration is so strong against my swollen bits. 

I hear you chuckle again.  “You chose this pet.”. I felt a strap go across my hips, effectively preventing me from moving.  “You are being fucked by a machine.  It will never bend to your begging or crying.  So please feel free to scream.  You will be at it’s mercy until I decide otherwise.  Enjoy it pet.  I plan to.”

I tried to keep quiet.  I’m not sure where you are but I have the feeling you are watching.  Your footfalls are silent when I can see you, let alone when I can’t.  I can feel my own juices dripping.  My pussy is so swollen, but the dildo gives me no room to breathe, to adjust, to escape.  I can feel tears at the corners of my eyes.

I can’t take much more of this.  I’ve cum twice already and there is no indication this is coming to an end.  I can barely string together a thought. 

“Please…”. I sob out.  I receive no answer.  I didn’t really expect one though.

The vibrations are making my whole-body shake.  It is almost painful.  My clit is so sensitive it is causing my stomach to cramp.  Sharp lines of pleasure were shooting up my back.  I was tugging harshly at the handcuffs.  There are sure to be marks for days.  I can feel how swollen they are, even as I continually try to slide my hand through the metal.

I need to be free.

“Please…”. I’m sure I’ve screamed it loud.  My sobs are broken.  I’ve never felt this overwhelmed before.  This is more torturous than when you left me alone, leashed to the bed.

“Please what, pet?”. Your voice startled me.  I should’ve known you were there but I am long beyond logical thought.

“Please stop the machine.  Please…”

That fuckin chuckle.  I swear you know it drives me batty.  It never means good things for me.

“Tell me.  Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I–I”. I inhaled sharply.  It hurts so bad.  “I need f-free.”

If I had to bet, I’d say you were smiling.  You are a Sadistic bastard.

“That’s not what you need.  That’s what you want.  Do I need to ask you again pet?”

The blindfold is sticking to my skin.  I’m sweating more than I can ever remember. 

“W-why? Why are you doing this?”. I managed to gasp out.  I need to know.

“Because I can.”

“Please….please stop it from fucking me.  I can’t take anymore. Please.”. I tried again.  I don’t know how much longer I can take this.  It feels as though it has been going for hours. 

I feel a hand on my stomach.  Finger tips traced around my tummy, pushing harshly on my side.  The pads of the fingers quickly turned to nails, dragging roughly across my skin.  It felt like I was being sliced.  After a particularly vicious swipe of the nails, my nipples were suddenly pulled tight and twisted.

I screamed.

It was so unexpected, and it hurt so bad.  My nipples were instantly hard.  My attention was split between the ruthless fucking and the tenderness in my nipples.

I felt the blindfold being removed but my position did not change.

“I think you need something to distract you pet.  So, I’ve decided to help.”. You moved back from me and I turned my head to try and see what you are planning.

I see you hold up a long, thick needle.  Now I’m worried.  Are you planning to drug me?  What else could it be for?

Then I see the ice.

I renew my efforts to struggle away.  I can really only move my arms very slightly, enough to damage myself but not much else.  It doesn’t matter.  I’m not letting you poke me with that needle.

“Aww, is my poor little whore scared?  It’s alright pet, I will take care of you.”. You press the ice against my nipples.  It is so cold against my overheated skin.  It starts to melt quickly.

You tug one nipple out and stretch it.  I’m sure the tautness is more for your pleasure than mine.

“Hold your breath and don’t move.”. Not really having a choice, I bear down as best I can and try to minimize the movement caused by the fucking machine.  “Ready?”



Fuuuuuuuccccccck.  One down.  For the record, I am a bleeder.  You seem far to happy about that.

Now the other one.



Exhale.  Fuck.  That hurts.

The metal is cold as you screw it into place.  When you are done, I feel both the vibrator and the machine turned off.

I lay there panting.  You undo my wrists and ankles and I collapse where I am.  I am a sticky, sweaty mess but I have no energy to care.

I just need to sleep.

“Do not touch your nipples.  You may also not touch yourself unless I give you leave.  If you choose to disregard that rule, we will see what the shock with do when routed through your pussy.”

I groaned but made no other move as you left.

This is only the beginning.

The beginning of the end.

I’ve been here somewhere near a month now.  That’s what the notches on the underside of my bed tell me.  I’m sure you would be angry if you knew I was defiling your furniture.  Then again, you’re defiling me.  So it’s a fair trade.

My nipples are still healing but the pain of your piercing have lessened.  I struggle not to touch them, even lightly to ease the shock they feel.  They are extra sensitive now.  The slightest breeze is enough to make them ache for hours.

To your credit, you take care of them well.  You wash them, disinfect them, and soothe them with ice. 

You are my very own Dr. Jekell/Mr. Hyde.  Sometimes you are clinical and semi-concerned about my wellbeing.  Other times, you are a Sadistic monster who takes such delights in watching my body bow from your electrical boundaries.  You seem to delight in my tears as well.  You often ask me if I will cry for you.  I’ve gotten more resilient.  I can last longer without crying, but you get more inventive every time I do.

You have told me I am to answer you with a Yes, Sir and No Sir only.  I’ve told you to keep dreaming.

We will see who breaks first.

You came into my room today.  I probably should call it what it is, a cell, but I can fool myself out of sorrow if I refer to it as a room.

For the first time since your game, you have told me I am leaving my room.  You snap your fingers and point to the spot next to you.  I understand you now, even though you speak so little.  You want me to kneel.  I hesitate for a second, but long enough for the look in your eyes to change.

I move to your side and down to my knees.  You attach a leash to my collar and outline the rules for my “outing”. I am to crawl when moving.  I am to move only when you command.  I am to stay where I am put.  I am not to speak unless asked a direct question or given permission.  I am not to ask any questions.

At this point, I think all I can do is breathe.  And that honestly depends on how happy I keep you–of that I am positive.

You have left my nipples alone for the most part.  I figure you are allowing them to heal so you can be crueler to them later.  But as I leaned forward onto all fours, I felt your hands near my pussy.  You pinched my clit and I jerked forward a little when you clipped something to it.  No words were spoken but as I moved my knee forward, I heard the telltale jingle of that fucking bell.

I breathe deeply, knowing that sound is going to haunt my dreams tonight.

The pressure isn’t too bad anymore.  I think I’ve gotten used to have my tender bits pinched and tugged by now.  I’m not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing.

But it’s the sound that bothers me.  It’s the inability to remain invisible.  I know that when sounds are heard, people look.  I’m still not convinced you aren’t planning to bring me downstairs into a room full of people as cruel as you.

I keep pace with you, though I noticed you’ve slowed your gate.  Is that for my benefit?

We make it down the stairs, rather easily to my surprise.  We move through the foyer and into what looks like an office.  There is a brick fireplace in the corner, unlit this time of year.  There is carpet in here.  It’s so strange considering the rest of the house is wood or marble.  And there in front of me are two French doors, painted a stark white.  They look brand new.

You beckon me through the door as you ease it open, but I refuse to move.  I’ve no interest in being shocked today.

Your hand comes down on my ass hard, and I bite my lip in surprise.

You tug the leash forward and I rear back.  I feel like a horse facing a rattlesnake.  Your hand comes down twice more.

“I will not tell you again.”

I’m aware that I will be going through that door whether I like it or not.  I hold my breath and move to the barrier. 

There are no shocks.

I look up in surprise.

You simply stare at me.  “You will learn to obey without hesitation pet.”

You’ve taken me out to a very grassy patch behind the house.  There are no fences, no visible barriers.  But there are also no neighbors, no shops, no people.  All I can see is dense forest.

Even if I were to try to run, I doubt I would get very far. 

You traded my leash for a chain and hooked it to a stake in the ground.  It reminds me of a dog lead.  But far more durable.  I could probably spend hours trying to remove it from the ground and I doubt I would be successful.  You have thought this out very well.

It makes me wonder.

Was this all done for me?  Or am I not the first?

I’m not sure I want to know

You told me to present.  My face went to the ground, the grass cold against my skin.  My hands reach back and spread my cheeks as you’ve had me do previously.  I almost forget I have the plug inside me until my finger grazes across it by accident.  It is a near constant companion to me now.  I wonder if I would miss it if you took it from me.

I feel your boot resting across my mouth and pushing onto my cheek.  The pressure is pushing me into the dirt.  I close my mouth tightly to avoid eating any of it.

I know what I did.  I did not put my forehead to the ground and keep my eyes averted.  Is that sad?  I’m not sure I am proud of myself for adapting and knowing what I did wrong or upset I have become accepting that this is now my reality.

I almost want to apologize but you explicitly told me talking was off limits.  So, I wait for you to make your point and see what happens next.

You finally let back, and I can feel the dirt on my face.  I’m sure you’ve left a tread impression.  I turn my forehead down but otherwise I do not move.

I feel your thumb push against the plug and it sends a jolt up my back.  I know you saw my reaction.

My mom always warned me that I was too easy to read.  She was worried I would be taken advantage of because of it.  I wonder how she would feel to know she was right.

“For every strike I give, you will count and thank me.  Do you understand?”

“Yes” I said quietly.  I felt your weight settle on my back and you tugged my hair.  My head tilted back, slightly restricting my breathing.

“Now, now pet.  Are we going to have to learn this all over again? I obviously need to push you further, so my lessons stay in your mind.”

“No Sir.”. I choked out.  I have no desire for your lessons to become more intense.

You chuckled.  “So, you were just choosing to be defiant.  We know how defiance is handled, don’t we sweetie?”

Your words of endearment always give me mixed signals.  You treat me like a pet, a slave to use at your whim.  Yet, your kindness comes at varied times and you gladly taunt me with it.

I think you are trying to mess with my head.

It’s working.

You told me to place my hands out in front of me, above my head, crossed at the wrist.  I did so, knowing I would struggle to keep my balance once the strikes started.

The first one took me off guard.  But it always does.  You are so deliberate in your actions.  You remain quiet, so I cannot anticipate your actions. 

“One.  Thank you, Sir.”

I waited for another.  A solid minute passed before you struck again, on the low side of my ass.

“Two.  Thank you, Sir.”

There is bile in my throat from thanking you.  I want to turn your twisted game around on you.  I want you at my mercy. 

Two more strikes rapidly hit my left cheek.

“Three. Four.  Thank you, Sir.”

I am starting to feel a heavy sting on my ass.  You are holding back.  I’m unsure why you would do so.  Are you afraid to break me?  Or are you just wanting to draw out the pleasure of beating me?

Thirteen times you brought the implement down.  Thirteen times I felt the sting and grudgingly thanked you.  My teeth are grinding together and I’m trying to control my breathing.  My fists are balled up and I’m quite happily imagining decking you.

“You did well on the warm up.  You do not need to count the next set.  I want you to feel it and accept it as my will.”

Thuds rained down on my back.  Crisscrossing from my shoulders to my ass.  It is oddly relaxing and slightly painful as well.  This seems more like the warm up than the previous round.

You changed implements to something much more painful.  It snapped against my back like a wet towel.  It makes my body bow and my eyes burn.  My forehead is digging in the cool Earth looking for a slight reprieve. 

Please Sir….Don’t make me beg.

I’m starting to lose track of life outside of your commands.  I constantly think about where you are, what you are doing, and what it means for me.  I analyze every move you make and every word you say.  I’ve even started wondering about your life.  I worry about the day I no longer need to know the answer to one question: what is your name?

I’ve figured that the day I stop asking that is the day I’ve given up.  It’s the day where I accept that you are only Sir.

If I do that, there is no hope, no chance of escape. 

Then again, what do I have to escape back to?  I have a mother who thinks I’m a fuck up.  I will never be as good, as talented, or as pretty as my sister.  I have a dead-end job that works me sixty hours a week for little pay.  They’ve probably replaced me by now.  My best friends are a remote and a houseplant that I whine to on occasion.

Maybe that’s why you picked me.  No one would miss me therefore no one would look for me. 

It’s bad when I’m a safety net for a kidnapper.  Was I your last resort?

I’ve lost count of the strikes.  You didn’t stop until I cried.  I’m sure I am black and blue and I am not looking forward to the crawl back to my room.  It is going to be a very long trek.

“Release”. You said quietly.

I collapsed to my stomach.  I cried heavily into the grass.  There are no words right now.  It felt oddly cathartic, compared to the other rounds.

I think I’ve cracked.  I’m not broken yet.  I’ve still got some life left to me but I think less about leaving and more about avoiding pain now. 

Leaving means pain. 

You’ve left me to my release.  I am still chained up but you’ve left me outside for now, in a shaded area.  It’s nice to be outdoors.  At this point, I don’t even mind that I’m naked.

I curl up carefully on my side.  I can’t see how bad the damage is but I can feel it.  I’m going to sleep while I wait for you to come back.

I think I’ve had enough taste of freedom for now

When I next awoke, I was in your arms.  You are carrying me.  I’m not sure why.  I can feel your arms pressing against me back as you cradle me, and it makes my body burn.  I’ve still not seen the damage you’ve left on me but I’m sure it is bad.

You carefully move up the stairs, my body barely shifting.  My eyes are half open, I find myself staring at your jaw.  I close them again.  I’m still exhausted.

We make it to my room and I open my eyes once more, in time to see you pass the bed.  You move me into the bathroom and lower me into warm water.  The bath smells like oranges and menthol.  Such a sweet smell.

You leave me there, telling me to relax.  Apparently, I have earned a reward.  Is this what they feel like?  It stings, but it is the most relaxed I’ve ever been.  My eyes drifted closed and I simply relished the heat.

I’m aware how dirty my body is and I long to scrub my skin clean.  But my limbs feel like lead.  I know I will have to wait for you.  Maybe you will let me wash before you take me back outside.

After all, I’m not foolish enough to believe that was our only time out there.  I saw what my beating did to you Sir.  I saw the bulge in your trousers and I could hear the delight in your voice.

It is only a matter of time.

**** **** **** ****

I felt your hands long before I saw them.  The warm water had obviously lulled me to sleep.  But as I felt your hands across my tummy, I could also feel the chill of the water creeping up. 

You are surprisingly gentle.  You soap my entire front, paying extra attention to my nipples.  I’m beginning to believe you are in love with the metal, as often as you touch it.

You tugged my body down and tipped my head back.   For a moment, I thought you would drown me. 

For a moment, it terrified me. 

I fear I’m growing fond of you.  As cruel as you are, and as confused as you make me, you pay more attention to me than anyone I’ve ever met.

Do you think, if I had cooperated, all those weeks ago, I would have suffered less?

I know you won’t tell me even if I asked.  So, I don’t.

I close my eyes and lay still as you wash the knots and dirt from my locks.  You rinsed me down and snapped for me to kneel up.  You wash my back just as tenderly.

I hate you when you do this.  I hate when you treat me like a treasure, like a lover.  I am neither to you.  At least when you are cruel, I feel justified in my hatred.  Moments like this though, leave me confused.

They fuck with my mind far more than your cruelty does.  Do you know that?  Is this a calculated move to throw me off guard?  Or, is this just a part of who you are?

**** **** ****
I’ve finally lost track of the days I’ve been here.  I used to keep diligent track.  There are notches carved into the floor under my bed to attest to that.  But I’ve stopped counting.  If I had to guess, we are somewhere around 9 months now. 

Nine months and you’ve near broken me.

You’ve still never spoke to me outside of a command.  I hum to myself to keep the silence at bay. 

You’ve given me some freedom.  I am allowed to leave my room for chores.  You leave a silent list every night by my door, and every morning I retrieve it. 

It changes daily, and most tasks are entirely mundane.  In this vast house with only us, there is very little that doesn’t shine already.  But you are determined to keep me busy.  I rarely see you during chore time, but I know you monitor me.  The first time I tried to cut corners, you caught me.  I learned that lesson well.  Now, I make sure the chores are done to your high standard, whether you are present or not.

Is it bad that I like feeling useful?  

About the Author

My name is Joji.  I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42.  I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling.  I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay.  I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning.  I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan.  I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education).  It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement.  We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.


  1. tearsntails says:


  2. janethevirgin says:

    More of this please!

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