The Awakening

***All pieces of erotica are fiction. We NEVER condone anything that is not safe and consensual.

She came to in a bit of a fog. Opening her eyes in the half-light, she reached up idly to scratch her nose, snapping to attention when her hand disobeyed the command and she realized it was bound to her side. She felt the panic attack kind of fear begin to swell and heard a deep voice resonate out of the shadow.

“Well hello, there, little one,” the voice intoned, “here I thought you might sleep the day away.” The bass voice spoke teasingly, with a hint of familiarity, as if he knew her intimately already, faint wisps of a drawl in some of his vowels. She tried to place the voice – surely she’d heard it before somewhere. Surely a man calling her ‘little one’ had to have spoken to her before enough to tickle her memory. Maybe work…the thought began, suddenly evaporating mid-stream as he stepped into the light.

Surely she would have remembered a man such as this. He towered above her, broad shouldered in the half-light, looming over her as she lay in a nest of cushions and blankets. How had she not noticed that either? She was beginning to seriously question her powers of oberservance, given how little she seemed to notice until it was forced upon her. Was she dressed? Panic began its rise again, fading some when she realized she was still dressed in her pajamas. Or, at least they felt like her pajamas, she mentally amended herself, her baseline emotion still complete terror at having woken somewhere other than the bed she fell asleep in.

A large hand reached out as if to touch her securely bound ankle, hesitating for a moment before making some adjustments to her bindings, flicking a rope here and there. She felt her bladder stir and desperately hoped he was arranging for her to use a restroom. She became aware of whatever he was doing, as he began to tug at various ropes connecting her limbs to his hand. He slowly and gently arranged her into a sitting position all without ever touching a finger to her body. She felt like the oddest, most lifelike puppet all of the sudden, and had an odd thought that it must be peaceful to be a puppet, with no bills, no cares, just to be taken out to serve a purpose and then put away. The thought chilled her, and she glanced at her captor nervously. She had not spoken since her awakening, and was afraid to break the still peace with the gutteral utterance of voice.

Manipulating her bindings as if he were an expert puppetmaster, he directed her towards a small room in the corner. She opened her mouth to ask, hesitating when she saw him loop the ropes in his hands across some metal braces on the wall and pass them to himself through an opening at the top of the braces.

“You will use taps to communicate your needs,” he said coldly. The fear in her stomach warned her not to disobey. He pointed to a chart on the wall detailing a system of knocking and stomping designed to indicate basic function. “When my eyes are upon you,” he continued, “you may use head gestures to respond to questions. Is that understood?” She nodded slowly, fear asking her how many others had taken this test and failed, and what might have become of them.