The Princess Game
In the dull early morning gloom, the curtains swung lazily as a light breeze
passed. Slowly and methodically, a clock kept silent count as the seconds
passed by. Seconds invariably became minutes, and minutes hours. 5:29.
5:30. The alarm had barely begun to ring as Cynthia's impatient hand slammed
down upon the poor timekeeper.
Quickly, she got out of bed and began to dress. Her heart was all aflutter from
the anticipation. She'd barely slept a wink but she didn't feel tired at all.
Stepping into the kitchen, she threw a croissant into the toaster oven and began
searching the refrigerator for the melon slices she'd prepared the night before.
The oven gave a gratifying ding as she finished her preparations. She sat down
to breakfast.
The streetlights were still on, and flooded in through the tiny kitchen window.
She didn't bother to turn the light on; it added to the mystique of her
adventure.
Staring at nothing in particular, she nibbled thoughtfully at her morning
pastry. He was waiting for her. She could almost feel his mind pulling her,
drawing her helplessly to him.
Downing her orange juice, she cleaned her morning plates and set them to dry on
the rack. The kitchen was spotless, as was the rest of the apartment.
Cleanliness was her virtue, often taken to extremes.
She flipped open her laptop and let it start up as she brushed her teeth. Mouth
full of toothpaste (and a fresh toothbrush), she hammered out a final message to
him, then turned the machine off, rinsed her mouth, and placed the toothbrush
and laptop into a waiting overnight bag by the door.
She turned around and surveyed the dark apartment one last time. Gas off.
Breakers thrown. Water off.
Grabbing the waiting bag, Cynthia stepped out into the hall, and locked the door
after her.
--------+--------
Arriving two hours early, she was surprised to see a lineup at the ticket
counter. A young man pecked uncertainly at a computer terminal while his
obviously irritated supervisor stood over him, walking him painfully through the
process. The customer at the counter was positively fuming, and made his
displeasure quite plain to the flustered trainee and his tired manager.
"You could at least have shown him how do do it before sitting him here, you
know!"
"Sir, if you'll just be patient, we've been having troubles with the computers
this morning-"
"Well I can see that! Why can't you get people who know what they're doing?
I'm going to be late, you know!"
"Sir, please..."
She stopped listening and drifted into her own world.
She'd only ever seen him once; after that she'd only heard his voice. They
spent a lot of time talking over the internet. He always asked her the most
pointed questions. At first they made her uncomfortable, but she always
answered. He was only interested in an honest girl, and he never made fun of
her no matter what she told him.
He knew every part of her, her hopes, her dreams, her deepest fears. She'd even
told him about the time she'd stuck her brother's toy gun inside her. He simply
asked her to describe the sensation, as if it was the most natural thing in the
world.
"Maam?"
"Huh?"
"May I see your ticket, please?" The trainee looked at her expectantly.
"Oh! Yes..." She fished the ticket out of her purse and placed it on the
counter.
He took the ticket and painstakingly pecked it into the keyboard.
"Uh... ok so that's flight 197 leaving at 9:00 from gate 3. Do you have any
baggage to check?"
Her overnight bag was starting to feel heavy. Maybe she should just check it.
No... she wanted to have her laptop during the flight.
"No, just carry-on."
He pecked some more.
"Okay, here's your ticket. Have a good flight. maam."
She took her ticket and followed the various signs directing her to her gate.
Getting into the lineup for the metal detector, she removed her jewelery and
placed it all into her purse. These things made her nervous. What if they went
off? She had mercury fillings. Could they set it off? She was sure that one
of these days she'd be reduced to her underwear as the detector kept buzzing.
Her turn came. She took a deep breath and stepped through... and breathed a
sigh of relief as the imposing sentinel remained silent.
"Maam? Is this your bag?"
Her heart sank. She'd completely forgotten about that!
"Umm.. yes." she said weakly.
"Could you please open it?"
Oh god please no!
She walked woodenly to the table and unzipped the bag.
"Please place the contents over here."
How could she have been so stupid! If only she'd checked her bag!
She lifted the laptop out and set it to the side, then began to pull out the
clothing. The sexy lingerie and very revealing leather mini-mini-miniskirt were
nothing compared to what was yet to come.
The inspector's eyes widened as Cynthia lifted a set of heavy steel manacles and
fetters, attached by a heavy chain to each other and to a large steel waist ring
and steel collar.
Cynthia turned beet red.
The inspector recovered somewhat. "Wait here, maam."
People were stopping to stare at her possessions. An old lady beside her shot
her daggers as she passed. Oh god she wanted to die right now!
The inspector came back with someone else, presumably her supervisor.
He lifted the manacles and inspected them. "Maam, are these yours?" he
inquired.
"yes." she said, trying to be as small as possible.
"May I inquire as to the purpose of these?"
She thought fast.
"Umm... well.. it's for a magic show, you see... A Houdini act."
The two inspectors spoke amongst themselves, leaving her to suffer the gawks and
stares of the passers-by.
They came back, and the supervisor spoke crisply. "Maam, while these are
allowed on the flight, I'd suggest that in future you check your baggage if
you're transporting this kind of thing."
"okay." she said, close to tears.
She gathered up her things, zipped up her bag, and tried to walk nonchalantly
down the hall to the waiting area.
People eventually lost interest in her, and her tired head began to drift.
--------+--------
"How often did you play the princess game?"
"On and off. We'd usually talk about it afterwards and think about what the
evil wizard would do to us."
"Were you always locked in a tower?"
"Oh no, lots of places, dungeons, chambers, anything really."
There was a long silence from his end.
"Hello? are you still there?" she asked.
"Yes. Cynthia, I want you to look at this and tell me what you think."
A window popped up on her screen: "Received file: princess.jpg. Open?"
She clicked "Yes". Her breath caught in her throat.
It was a pencil drawing of a medieval tower, with a dragon circling around it,
looking hungrily at a woman who was chained to a post. You could tell she was a
princess by her beautiful silky clothing, which was now torn to shreds, to the
point where one of her breasts peeked out from underneath. The woman was
terrified but could not cry out because her mouth had been gagged.
"Uh..." she began, then stopped.
"Cynthia, look at that picture. How does it make you feel?"
There were so many conflicting emotions inside of her!
"I.. I don't know..."
"Does it remind you of your childhood games?"
"yes." she whispered. She was feeling feverish.
Suddenly, the princess game came back to her in full force color. Back then
they'd only played it for... well anyway it was different now. It was...
sexual...
"Tell me how you feel."
"I.. don't know."
"Are you excited?"
"Yes." she breathed.
He was silent again.
"I'm going to send you something in the mail, and I want you to do everything
that's written in it. Can you do that, Cynthia?"
--------+--------
"Cynthia Brown!"
She woke with a start.
"Last call for miss Cynthia Brown, flight 197 will be leaving shortly."
She grabbed her bag and sprinted for the gate, gave her apologies to the surly
boarding guard, and entered the plane.
It was completely packed! She edged down the narrow aisles until she finally
found her seat.
The man in the aisle seat noticed her and got up. "Here. let me help you with
that." He took her bag and lifted it effortlessly into the overhead
compartment. Surely he must have noticed how heavy it was. He beckoned to her
seat. "After you miss." he said, in an effort of gallantry.
She didn't mind, really. Men would often go out of their way to help, even if
she didn't really need it. She took it as a compliment, and she worked damn
hard to keep the figure that drew them.
He sat down after her, trapping her between himself and the window. She felt a
twinge and fought to keep it down. There'd be plenty of time for that later.
"Jonathan Reed" he said, holding out his hand.
"Cynthia Brown" she said, taking it lightly.
"I'm always nervous on planes, so I always take the aisle seat. I hope you
don't mind."
"No, that's fine. This is my first flight, actually."
"Oh, really? Well in that case, you probably want the window seat anyway. Is
anyone else with you?"
"No, just me."
"Brave girl."
An uncomfortable silence ensued.
"So... are you on a vacation? I hope you don't mind my asking."
"Yes, kind of. I'm meeting my husband and we'll be going to our cabin on the
lake." she lied.
"Oh."
"Oh" could be said in many ways. In his case, it more correctly expanded to
"Oh, you're not single so there's not much point in fishing for a phone number."
"Well, good luck, then."
"Thanks."
She might have enjoyed flirting with him a bit, but her mind was occupied with
other things at the moment.
--------+--------
"I can see you. You're a beautiful woman, Cynthia. I could easily imagine you
a princess in another life."
"But why can't I see you?"
"I'd rather you didn't."
"Oh, come on! You've seen me, now I want to see you!"
"I'm a very private man, Cynthia. I like to watch others, but I don't like to
be watched. Please understand that."
"Ok, that's fine, but at least let me see you once."
There was a pause.
"Please?" She did her best to give the doe eyed treatment to the camera.
Silence.
"You play your role well, Cynthia. I'll let you see me this one time only."
The sounds of him rummaging through something came through her speakers.
Something banged against his microphone, and then, finally, a face appeared on
her screen. He was in his late twenties, or perhaps early thirties, short cut
brown hair, and deep, deep eyes.
"Can you see me?" he asked.
She could see his bare shoulders. He was toned, but not overly so.
"Yes, I see you."
"I'm turning it off now."
"Wait! Can't we just talk like this for awhile?"
"No." His stern gaze made her feel like a child before him. "You'll only see
my face this one time, Cynthia, until we meet in person."
"Okay." she said, disappointedly.
"I want you to keep your camera on at all times when we are talking. Will you
do that, Cynthia?"
"Okay."
"That's a good girl. I can see now why you always played the princess."
She flushed and felt a twinge down below. She couldn't see him, but she knew he
was watching her.
"I'm going to send you another picture. Tell me how it makes you feel."
Received: dungeon.jpg. Open?
It was another drawing of the same princess, this time chained up in a dungeon.
She was naked from the waist up, her full breasts standing proud as she looked
worriedly at a nearby table filled with various implements of torture.
Cynthia felt hot again.
"I can see that it excites you." he said.
She started, then flushed. He could see her every move.
"Picture yourself as that princess, Cynthia. How does it feel to be chained up
in a dungeon?"
As she closed her eyes, her arms broke out in goosebumps under the grasp of the
cold, iron manacles about her wrists. She could feel the breeze across her
helplessly bare breasts, causing a tingling sensation in her nipples.
"The evil wizard will be coming for you soon, Cynthia. What do you think he'll
do to you?"
She could see the implements on the table beside her.
"H-he's going to whip me." she said shakily.
"Where, Cynthia? Where is he going to whip you?"
She was breathing hard, and made no reply.
"Is he going to whip your back? How about your breasts? They look enticing,
don't they?"
She gasped.
"How would it feel to have the sting of the whip upon your helpless breasts,
Cynthia? Can you feel it?"
She imagined herself screaming, struggling uselessly against her bonds as the
wizard piled lash upon lash upon her poor breasts. Her hand moved up and
squeezed at her nipple.
"Look at the table again, Cynthia. Can you see the object closest to the
front?"
She looked and saw a wooden shaft. Relative to the bound princess, it would
have been just over an inch in diameter and as long as her forearm.
"Can you guess where he'll be putting that?"
She shuddered, and then ran for the bathroom. Reaching into the secret
compartment in the medicine cabinet, she pulled out a vibrating dildo that she
had purchased some time ago. The batteries were still good. One hand worked
her nipples while the other worked her pussy, reaching a steady rythm until the
waves finally broke the embankment, flooding her in a cataclysmic orgasm.
She lay there for some time, in content contemplation, until she suddenly
remembered. She ran back to the computer, but he had already signed off.
--------+--------
The cabin started to shake, pulling her out of her reverie.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. The captain has turned on the
seatbelt light. We would ask that all passengers please return to their seats
and fasten their seatbelts. Thank you."
Everything was shaking this way and that. She was startled by a sudden thump in
the overhead compartment. Nobody else looked worried at all. This must be a
normal part of flying. "I hope I don't get airsick." she thought to herself.
Outside the window and endless sea of cottoney clouds stretched as far as the
eye could see. Pretty boring, really. It didn't matter, though, she'd be with
him soon.
--------+--------
He'd been angry with her for leaving the room suddenly like that. Afterwards,
she promised to stay in front of the camera all the time when talking to him,
and he'd held her to it, even to the point of making her buy a chamber pot.
"I want to see your every move, your every reaction. I want to know you
intimately, as intimately as I can from here."
He sent her another picture that night, this time a photograph of a real woman.
She was of a similar height and build to Cynthia, and even had the same auburn
hair and hazel eyes. She was completely naked, bound in manacles and a collar.
Her ankles were connected by a chain, which was connected to another chain going
to a steel ring locked about her waist. The sides of the ring had short lengths
of chain leading to the wrist manacles. Two chains in front and behind ran up
and connected to a metal collar, which was locked around her neck. Little brass
padlocks held everything in place.
Her lips were parted by a large red ball, with leather straps coming out the
sides and wrapping around her neck. Her perky breasts thrust forth, each
sporting a metal clamp on the nipple, with a chain connecting them.
This was no longer just drawings... This was real! Those chains were real, and
they really did hold that woman captive!
Cynthia could see a part of herself in that picture. A new part of her had been
awakened, and it opened in her a longing... a craving...
She'd spent the rest of the night fingering herself, wishing for that cold steel
to capture her in its grip.
The next day she came home to find a delivery man at her door, his raincoat
slick from the weather.
"Are you miss Cynthia Brown?"
"Yes, I am." she said.
"If you could just sign here..."
She accepted his pen and signed the soggy paper on his clipboard.
"And here's your package. Careful, it's heavy."
He handed her a simple white box. Written in thick felt pen: Cynthia - do not
open until you call me. She of course called him right away.
"Before you do anything, do you have a full length mirror?"
"Yes, in the hallway."
"Bring it in here."
"Okay." She struggled it into the room.
"Place it to your right, facing you."
She did so.
"Can I open the box now?"
"Go ahead."
She pulled a box cutter from the desk drawer and cut the box open. She couldn't
believe what she saw. She stared in shock at the camera.
"You told me you wanted to know what it felt like. Now you can know."
"I... I don't know what to say.. I... How did you get them?"
She pulled a steel manacle out of the box, its attached chain clinking as it
swayed.
"I made it." he said simply. "For you, Cynthia."
She pulled the whole thing out. Its shining metal glinted in the light. On the
metal collar was engraved: Cynthia.
"I don't know what to say..."
"You don't have to say anything. You just have to put them on."
She inspected the metallic cuff. It was similar to the one in the photo, but
this one had a built-in locking mechanism. She fished around in the box and
pulled out what must be the key. It was star-shaped, as if two keys had been
crossed with each other. The key handle was big and boxy, and had a digital
readout and two buttons on one side. She put it into the manacle's locking
mechanism and turned. It popped open. She wrapped it experimentally around her
wrist.
"Not like that." he said.
She looked at the camera inquiringly.
"Undress first."
She shouldn't have hesistated. He'd seen her masturbate on countless occasions,
but she'd never been completely naked before him.
"I..."
"Do it now!" he commanded.
She quickly got up and unbuttoned her blouse. Her bra was one of those
cross-your-heart kinds, leaving a fair amount of cleavage for the viewing.
Next she let her skirt fall to the floor, and carefully removed her pantyhose.
She stood there in her bra and panties, and looked at the camera.
"Continue." he said.
Her face glowing red, she undid her bra and let it fall to the floor, then slid
her panties over her hips and onto the floor to join their counterparts. Naked
and embarrassed, she dared not look at the camera.
"You look beautiful, Cynthia."
She wanted to run away. Her cheeks burned like fire.
"I want you to put the waist ring around your waist. The locking part goes in
the back."
Regaining some of her composure, she pulled the entire set out of the box.
Unlocking the metal band, she wrapped it around her waist. The metal felt cold
against her skin, but soon her body warmed it up. It locked shut with a click.
She gave it an experimental tug. It was locked on tight. She could feel
herself getting wet.
"Now take the collar and put it around your neck."
She did as she was told, and the collar clicked shut. A metal chain ran down
between her breasts to the waist ring, and another down her back.
"Now your ankles."
The fetters were of similar design as the rest, and separated by a 1 foot chain.
She placed one around her ankle and closed it. Bringing her other ankle near,
the other one closed around it with a satisfying click. She tried to pull her
legs apart but the chains were solid. She'd have trouble walking around with
these on. Her breathing was growing rapid as her heart raced.
"Now your wrists."
The manacles were attached to the waist ring by short lengths of chain. She had
no trouble locking her left wrist in, but the other presented a challenge. She
finally managed to lock it by setting it on the desk and leaning on it. It
clicked into place, completing her imprisonment.
"Now, " he said, "there is one last thing you must do. Take a close look at the
key."
She did so.
"You will notice that there are two buttons on it. Press the right one."
As she pressed the button, the display above it came to life, showing "01".
"Now hold it so that the key faces down. Yes, like that. Now press it down on
the desk."
As she pressed it agains the desk, the key disappeared into the handle. She
lifted it up again, but the key remained inside.
"The number on the handle is how many hours remain until the key is released.
You are my prisoner for the next hour."
--------+--------
"Maam?"
"huh?"
"Would you like some coffee, tea, or juice?"
"Oh. Do you have orange juice?"
The attendant expertly filled a plastic cup and handed it to her.
Cynthia sipped her juice and stared out the window again. The clouds had
cleared up somewhat, and she could see the flat, patchwork terrain below. Farms
of some sort, she thought to herself. She was too high up to see houses or
cars, of course. She wondered what his place would look like...
--------+--------
"Stand up so I can see you better." he commanded.
She tried to get up but found it was much more difficult with the chains on.
She'd simply put her hands on the seat of the chair and pushed, but the chains
were so small that she was only partway standing when they pulled taut and she
fell with a squawk of surprise back into the chair.
She heard him chuckle on the other end. "You'll have to learn new ways to do
things with those chains on."
She tried again, this time inching up with her hands along the back of the
chair, until she got unsteadily to her feet.
"You're a very sexy girl, Cynthia. I wish I could be there with you right now."
She blushed again.
"Turn and face the mirror, Cynthia. I want you to see how sexy you look."
Turning required some caution as well. If she tried to move too quickly, she
was likely to trip, and her hands couldn't move enough to break her fall if she
did.
There stood her reflection, naked in the mirror. The links from her collar
chain glinted as they ran down between breasts sporting very erect nipples, to
the waist ring. Her wrists were chained close enough to the ring as to be
useless for most activities. It was like looking at someone else. In the
mirror stood a nameless slave, bound by the steel of her captor and master.
Cynthia could feel her juices running down her leg.
"You are my slave now, Cynthia." he said, as if reading her thoughts. "From now
on you will call me master."
"Yes, master." she said without even thinking.
"Now finger your pussy, Cynthia. I want to see you climax."
She needed very little encouragement. Her brain was already euphoric from
seeing herself in the mirror. She reached a shackled hand and gently brushed
along her clittoris. Masturbating while chained was an entirely new experience.
The confining presence of her bonds only added to the stimulation, and it was
not long until she was moaning, her emotions surging, until the final climactic
release inundated her. She fell off her chair and lay on the floor, shaking.
Finally, her master spoke. "That's very good, Cynthia. I'm proud of you. Now
go and clean up for bed, then call me back."
"Yes, master." she sighed.
She struggled up to a sitting position, arms pulling at their bonds as they
instinctively attempted to do their job of pushing her up. She swung her legs
around and got on her knees, but she couldn't stand up; the ankle chain was too
short. She tried a different tactic. Leaning forward, she rested her torso on
the chair, then brought her legs into a low crouch. This allowed her to
straighten her torso again and come out of the crouch to a full standing
position.
Being chained up really made even the simplest things difficult!
Carefully, she shuffled out of the room, her chains jingling with every step.
--------+--------
"Chicken, fish, or vegetarian?"
A flight attendant was slowly moving down the aisle, distributing trays of food
to the passengers. Cynthia's stomach began to voice its demands.
"You should put your tray down or they'll think you don't want any." Jonathan
said.
"Oh, ok." She pulled the latch on the tray in the seat in front of her and it
dropped down.
"You really are new at this, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I've never even been in an airport until today."
"You're doing quite well for a first-timer. I was 18 when I first flew. I was
a total wreck! Just so you know, they have little bags in the pocket in front
of you. If you think you're gonna throw up, get one ready."
She lifted the tray and fished around in the pocket underneath, and sure enough,
there was a small waxy-plasticy-papery bag. It had a twist tie attached to the
top. For sealing afterwards, she guessed.
"Are you feeling alright, maam?"
The flight attendant was peering at her.
"Yes, I'm fine." she said hurriedly and put the bag back.
"It's her first time flying. She didn't know about the barf bags." Jonathan
added helpfully.
The flight attendant seemed mollified. "Ok, would you like the chicken or
fish?"
"No vegetarian?" asked Jonathan.
"I'm sorry, sir, we've run out of vegetarian."
He chuckled. "That's fine. I'm a meat eater anyway. Fish please."
"And for you, maam?"
"Umm.. chicken." she said, hardly thinking. The attendant handed her a food
tray. "It's a pain trying to eat in such tight quarters," chuckled Jonathan,
"but you get used to it eventually."
Try eating when your hands are chained to your waist. She smiled to herself.
--------+--------
Standing with the fridge open, it suddenly dawned upon her. She couldn't reach
her mouth with her hands. They could reach up to her chest, but no further.
She closed the fridge. Maybe some cereal? She looked forlornly at the overhead
cupboard that contained the cereal.
Well, maybe she'd just skip dinner tonight. She went to the bathroom and
stopped suddenly. How was she going to brush her teeth if she couldn't reach
her mouth? Maybe a shower then. No... she could only reach her lower torso.
She went back to the computer and called her master.
"Hello, Cynthia. All ready for bed?"
"No, master." she said morosely. "I can't reach anything like this."
He chuckled from his end. "Looks like you're going to have to make the
apartment slave-accessible, and soon!".
Cynthia was startled by a sudden noise on her desk. The key had sprung out of
its handle. The display was blank once again.
Before she could act, he spoke. "Don't unlock yourself, Cynthia. I want you to
spend the night in chains."
"But master-"
"No buts. You can clean yourself up tomorrow. What time do you get up in the
morning?"
"7:00" she said.
"Show me the key."
She showed him.
"Set the timer for 9 hours. That will give you an extra hour to get ready
tomorrow morning."
Reluctantly, she pushed the right-hand button until it showed "09".
"Push the key in." he prodded.
She pushed the key against the desk and watched with despair as it disappeared
into the handle once again. She was trapped for the next 9 hours.
She didn't sleep much that night. Every time she moved, she'd be reminded of
the chains that bound her. They held her prisoner in an unbreakable grip.
There was no negotiating, no begging, no pleading that would convince them to
release her; she would remain a captive for the allotted time. She played with
herself numerous times before sleep finally overtook her.
The stones were cold against the soles of her feet. The masonry of the wall
brushed harshly against her back as she struggled in vain to free herself. She
waited, naked and chained to the wall, for the inevitable. Beside her stood the
table of evil implements which would be used for his sadstic pleasure.
"Enjoying your stay, princess?"
She turned her head to see him lurking in the doorway, leering at her naked and
helpless body.
"Please let me go! You've got my father's castle. What more could you want
from me?"
"Believe me, princess," he said menacingly, "there's MUCH more I could want from
you."
He strolled unhurriedly into the room, inspecting the various devices as he
went.
"To be quite honest, I was quite surprised to find such a comprehensive torture
chamber in this castle. Your father must have been quite the sadist."
"No! He wouldn't do this kind of thing!" she wailed.
"Then how do you explain this place, my little princess?"
He came up to her and whispered into her ear. "You've been naive and
inexperienced for too long, my dear. Today, you'll learn how life really
works."
She spat in his face. He merely smiled, removed a cloth from his robes, and
wiped his face.
"You learn fast, my pretty."
She looked worriedly at the table beside her.
"Ah! You have an interest in that table? Tell me, how many of the devices do
you recognize, hmm?"
She closed her eyes.
"Ah ah! Don't try to shut out the real world, princess. It won't disappear that
easily. Tell me, do you know what this is?"
He reached for the table and removed a coiled whip. Cynthia's eyes went wide
with terror.
"You do, don't you? Do you know how many people your father had whipped,
princess?"
She couldn't take her eyes off the whip.
"I asked you a question, princess!" he said menacingly. With a raspy noise, the
whip slithered along the floor.
"N-no..."
"Oh, I should imagine it in the tens of thousands at least. Have you ever heard
someone scream as they were whipped, princess?"
"Please let me go!" she wailed. "You can't have any use for me!"
"When I have no use left for you, you'll be killed." he seethed, his face inches
from hers. She started to cry.
He backed up a few paces and brought the whip to bear.
"Now, princess, allow me to demonstrate what the cries of the whipped sound
like."
THOCK!
Cynthia awoke with a start. She looked at the alarm clock. 5:54. The key must
have come out. She could barely see it in the gloom, sitting on the night table
which she'd moved last night to be more accessible to her manacled hands. She
shimmied to the edge of the bed and retrieved the key.
She fingered it lightly, remembering her dream. Her thumb brushed along the
display and pressed the right hand button. "01".
"I don't really need an extra hour." she thought, and slammed the key down on
the table.
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! The alarm clock whined its annoying wake up call.
Cynthia reached out to shut it off, but her hand was stuck. Suddenly
remembering her predicament, she shifted around a bit, then swung her legs out
and turned off the alarm with her toe. She sat up sleepily on the edge of the
bed, shaking the last of the cobwebs out of her head.
The key!
It was gone!
She must have knocked it off the table when she turned off the alarm. She stood
up and shuffled through the gloom to the light switch and pushed with her nose
until excruciatingly bright light flooded the room.
Her eyes finally adjusted enough that she could see the key, partway under the
bed. With a sigh, she sat down on the floor and fished it out with her legs.
That's odd... the key hadn't come out. She picked it up and inspected it.
"09"
Her eyes widended. 9 hours??? How the hell did that happen?
She turned the key upside down.
"60"
Oh god, she must have had the key upside down and set it to 10 hours by mistake!
She couldn't go to work like this!
Using the bed for support, she managed to get herself standing again and turned
on her computer. She called master's machine but he didn't answer.
Think, think, think!
She shuffled out to the kitchen and opened the cutlery drawer. Knife in hand,
she ran the blade along the key handle, looking for a seam, but the welded sides
offered none. She didn't dare try tampering with the number display for fear of
breaking it, and having it permanently stuck.
She looked at the clock. 7:30. Her boss would arrive at 8:30. She'd call in
sick then.
Her stomach rumbled. She'd missed dinner last night, and was famished now.
Most of the food was in the overhead cupboards, but she kept some canned goods
in the shelf next to the fridge. She went over to inspect it. 2 cans of beans
and a can of tomato sauce.
"Well, slaves can't be choosers I guess." She fished out a can of beans and put
it on the table, then coaxed the can opener out of a nearby drawer.
Opening the can was not that difficult, relatively speaking; the tricky part was
trying to keep it over the table so that it wouldn't spill all over the place
when the lid came off.
Right, now for the bowl. The bowls and plates were in the cupboard beside the
sink, which was lower than the rest. She went up to it, grabbed the handle with
her teeth, and pulled it open. Standing on her tiptoes, she lifted her chin so
that it rested inside. Thankfully, the bowls were stacked near the front. She
tried to push further forward, but couldn't quite reach. There were four bowls
stacked inside each other, with a thin lip that she couldn't grasp easily.
She pulled her head out. This would require her to be a little higher up. She
looked back at the chair, but decided against it. She'd had a hard enough time
getting up with a bed to lean against. Trying it on a chair was a surefire way
to break her neck.
The cutting boards looked tempting. She could add a couple of inches if she
stood on those. Leaning over the counter, she hooked behind the stacked cutting
boards with her chin and pulled them back. As she pulled them to the edge, she
instinctively stepped back. The short chain on her fetters caught her off-guard
and her backwards momentum carried her over, falling heavily on her ass.
Ouch! Even breakfast was a chore with these chains on!
She looked at the clock. 8:45.
Oh no! She still had to call in sick!
Sitting up, she went on her knees over to the corridor where the phone sat on a
small table. Right, now how to do this... If only she'd gotten a speaker
phone! She shimmied up against the wall until she stood upright, then grabbed
the phone with one manacled hand. As she pulled away, the cord caught on the
pen & pencil container, spilling the contents on the floor. Ignoring them, she
leaned against the wall and eased herself back down. She pulled the receiver
off the hook and set it as far away from the phone as she could. With
surprising dexterity, she dialed her work, and then immediately lay down and
squirmed about until she managed to rest her head against the receiver.
"Hello? Hello? Bill? It's Cynthia."
"Cynthia! How are you?"
"Bill, I won't be able to make it in today, I'm sorry."
"What's wrong? Are you sick? You sound tired."
"I think it's just a cold, but it hit me pretty bad. Tell Jill I'll cover for
her later."
"Ok. You take care of yourself, Cynthia."
"I will. Bye."
The lie well fed, she hung up the phone and looked at the mess in the hall.
Carefully, she picked up the pens and pencils and put them back in the holder,
then put the holder and phone back on the stand.
There was a knock at the door. She froze.
It didn't really matter who it was since she couldn't answer the door naked.
What if it was a package from Master? She tried to move sliently to the door,
but the leg chains scraped along the floor.
"Hello?" came a man's voice on the other side. In the six feet that separated
them, only the door stood between him and her chained, helpless body.
Maybe it was a burglar? She'd heard that they sometimes knock to make sure
nobody's home. If he broke in now, she'd have no way to defend herself!
Feeling a cold sweat against her skin, Cynthia held perfectly still. She wanted
to make him think someone was home, but she couldn't answer the door!
There was another half-hearted knock. She held her breath.
Finally, the sound of footsteps signalled his departure.
She remained still for some time afterwards, until hunger overcame her fear.
She went back to the cutting boards and nudged them along with her feet until
they were in place, stacked on top of each other. Getting back up (which was
getting very tiring!), she stood on the cutting boards and poked her head back
into the cupboard. Using her lips, she pulled at the top of the bowls. They
tipped towards her, but she couldn't separate them. Carefully, she grasped the
lip of the top one between her teeth. The sensation was awful! She was one of
those people who couldn't stand the sound of cutlery against plates, and having
every scrape run up her teeth was enough to make her ill.
She stopped and stood there, resting her chin against the cupboard.
"You came this far. Don't give up now!" she thought.
Trying her best to ignore the sensation, she grasped the bowl again and pulled
back. The stack tipped towards her and the topmost one came loose. Now that it
was free, she grabbed the entire edge in her mouth and shuffled over to the
table. Her teeth scraped across the porcelain with every step, but she held on,
until she reached the table and set it down. Fighting the nausea, she managed
to stand up again and pour the beans into her bowl, then sat down heavily.
She knew the only way to eat was to bury her face in the bowl, but it was so
humiliating! The thing with hunger, though, is that it eventually outweighs all
else. She dipped her face into the bowl and began to eat. By the time she was
finished, her face was covered in beans and sauce. Shuffling over to the sink,
she counted her blessings; It was one of those up-down lever taps. She
eventually managed to rinse off the worst of it, and get her hair completely wet
in the process.
After that she went to the bathroom, and was frustrated once again when she
couldn't reach properly with the toilet paper afterwards. The horrible unclean
feeling persisted until finally she climbed into the bathtub, started the shower
running, and held her ass up in the hopes that the droplets of water would
eventually clean her behind.
The towels were, of course, too high for her to reach, and so she had to settle
for rolling around on the drip mat until she was as dry as she could hope to be.
Cynthia shuffled, shivering, back to her room. She gasped as she caught sight
of herself in the mirror. There stood a shivering, wet, naked woman with
dissheveled hair and the remains of her last meal all over her face, bound in
chains.
The transformation was complete. She was a slave.
As the humiliation built inside her, so did her juices start to flow. She
crawled into bed and fingered herself until she came.
--------+--------
"Maam?"
Cynthia opened her groggy eyes.
"Maam, we've landed."
Cynthia looked up and was startled to see the empty seats all around her. Not
even her male companion was around.
With the help of the attendant, she lifted down her bag and proceeded to
disembark.
She wandered through the terminal, eventually spotting a waiting cabbie outside.
"You sure this is the righ address?" He looked at the paper quizically.
"Yes, it is."
"Well okay." he said uncertainly, "It's a long drive, though."
"That's fine."
She could feel the excitement building up inside her. Soon she would meet her
master in the flesh!
The cars began to thin out as they distanced themselves from the airport. The
cabbie really liked his country music; she could tell by the twangs ringing out
from his headphones. He obviously wasn't into talking, which suited her just
fine. She laid her head back and watched the road go by.
--------+--------
A knock came at the door. Cynthia was only mildly surprised to see a man
carrying a white box. Master had sent her things a few times before. She
signed the paper thrust before her and carried the box into the bedroom.
"It's a package from you!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, good. I was hoping it would arrive in time."
"Can I open it now?"
"Not yet. First, go get a pitcher of water, and close the bedroom door when you
come back."
She did as instructed, returning with a pitcher full of water and closing the
door after her.
"Can I open it now?"
"Go ahead."
She grinned and tore the box open. Whatever was inside, it would represent a
new level.
"Huh?"
She pulled out the strange items one by one: A big flannel blanket, a length of
chain, a lock, a metal leash, and two dog bowls.
"I don't get it."
"You will. Now undress."
She did as she was told. He liked to be obeyed immediately and she wasn't one
to disappoint.
"Now take the leash. Loop it around the bedpost and through the handle."
She started to get the idea, and wrapped the leash around the bedpost and
through itself, giving it a good tug afterwards.
"Good. Now put on the collar and waist ring."
She pulled her chains out from the desk drawer and locked herself into them as
she had done so many times before.
Master was silent.
"Master?"
".. God your tits are sexy. I wish I could whip them right now!"
Cynthia blushed. He was crude at times, but she liked it at times, too.
"Lay the blanket on the ground and put the dishes next to it. Good. Now fill
one of the bowls with water. Fill it all the way."
The bowl full, she set the pitcher aside.
"You seem to have missed some important pieces, princess. Look in the box once
more."
She did. There was a false side in the box. She pulled it open.
"Master, you can't be serious!"
"Oh, but I can," he said, "and am. Fill your bowl, slave."
It was a command that would not be disobeyed. She took the hefty can of dogfood
and opened it with the can opener that had been so thoughtfully provided. Soon
afterwards, the bowl was heaping with the brown canine meal.
"Now put your fetters on."
She fastened her ankles, feeling the cool loops wrap them in their solid
embrace.
"Lay on your stomach. Now take the extra chain and loop it around your leg
chain, and through the loop on your waist ring."
She followed his instructions. She had to bend her legs back to allow the ends
of the chain to meet.
"Very good. Now close the loop with the extra lock."
She took the lock, which also had a cross-shaped hole for her key, and fastened
the ends of the chain together. Her legs were now useless.
"Now your wrists."
She struggled into her manacles, eventually getting them locked by rolling
partially onto her side.
"Where is your key?"
"Right here, master."
"Set it to 48."
"What?"
"Set it to 48."
"But that's two days!"
"And today is Friday. That leaves the weekend free for your training. Did you
have any plans?"
"No, but..."
"Then set it to 48."
She looked at the key. Two simple buttons that would determine the length of
her torment. Two days... The thought scared her. What if something were to
happen? What if the apartment caught fire? What if she got sick? On the other
hand, the thought of two days lying helpless on the floor excited her. She
pressed the left button four times, and the right button eight.
She looked at the camera, grinned, and slammed the key down.
"I'm very proud of you, slave. I'll be watching you suffer."
"Thank you, master."
--------+--------
"Just around the corner here, lady." the driver said.
She let out a sigh as the memory faded. It had been her first multi-day bondage
session. The dog food had tasted horrible, but two days with nothing else
available turned even the greatest revulsion into desire. Her ordeal had been
one new experience after another. Excitement at the prospect of her forced
confinment, fear that she'd eventually have to pee all over herself, humiliation
after she finally did, and frustration as Master taunted and teased her. All
that had been missing was his touch. Soon that would come, too.
"You're sure this is the right place? It's pretty rough out here."
"Yes, I'm sure." She really had no clue, but he had dictated quite clearly to
her the night before.
"Well okay then."
She stood alone on the curb as the taxi drove off. It was beginning to get
dark, and the warehouse buildings grew ominously all around her. This was the
absolute worst place for a woman to be alone. She had no idea where she was,
besides a few scribblings on the paper she'd shown the driver. There hadn't
been a car here since the taxi had left, and there were no telephones in sight.
She felt deathly afraid, but exhilirated at the same time. There was no turning
back.
She looked at the warehouse in front of her. There were no markings on it
besides the address which matched the one on her paper.
The building loomed hauntingly over her as she walked around the side. The
post-sunset sky offered but a gloomy light as she walked in short, deliberate
steps. Her heart raced in her chest, and thundered in her ears.
The door creaked open, and Cynthia looked in tentatively, putting the key he'd
sent her back in her purse. The pitch black maw stood open, ready to swallow
her whole. Mustering all her courage, she stepped inside.
A light came on suddenly. She shrieked and dropped her purse as the door closed
behind her. She stood bathed in the glow of a single spotlight overhead.
Nothing made a sound; the light must have been activated by a motion sensor or
something.
She gathered up her purse, then turned and caught sight of the bench. Atop it
rested a white box. She opened it and examined the contents: a gag, some
metallic device, a thin length of chain that split into a Y with a small metal
clamp at each end, and a note which she promptly read.
She tied her hair back and took the gag. This one was a little different from
the trainer gag he'd sent her before. Instead of a ball, it had a square of
leather with a short, fat penis attached. She put it in her mouth and wrapped
the straps around her head, fastening them in behind. The leather square had
two smaller straps at the bottom. These she wrapped under her chin and behind
her neck as per the instructions. The end result was a very snug fitting gag,
and she could barely make a sound with it on.
She undressed, placing her clothes and purse into her overnight bag, then took
out her chains. The cool, night air carressed her naked skin as she puzzled
over the new device: a metal chastity belt. It fit through her crotch and
around her waist, locking closed for a snug fit. She was freshly shaved, so her
pussy lips poked out through the small slit opening in the belt.
The rest of the procedure was old hat. First, she locked the waist ring and
collar on. Next, the fetters snapped on with a satisfying click.
She took the clamps and looked at them. She'd never worn nipple clamps before.
Grabbing one breast, she squeezed the clamp and placed its jaws over the soft
flesh of her nipples. Taking a deep breath, she let go. The pain was
excruciating. She screamed into her gag and sank to the floor.
She couldn't go on. This was too intense. No! It was now or never.
Gathering all her strength, she grabbed the other breast and applied the clamp.
Pain shot up from her protesting nipples, but she did her best to endure.
Once she regained her composure, she completed the bondage by locking in her
wrists.
At the edge of the gloom, she spied a small cage, barely three feet tall and no
wider than she was. She ran her fingers along the welded steel (and very solid)
bars, which criss-crossed on all sides. It looked quite heavy, but it rested on
four casters so it could be moved easily.
The door creaked slightly on its hinges as she swung it open.
Once closed, its self-closing latch would take a key to open again; a key which
she didn't have.
She got down and crawled awkwardly inside. Definitely a tight fit!
Reaching back with her leg, she caught the door with her toe and pulled. It
creaked and groaned, and slammed shut.
Alone she rested on her knees, helpless in her tiny prison. The shackles dug
painfully into her ankles, and she did her best to achieve a comfortable
position.
The light turned off suddenly, shrouding her in utter darkness. The cold bars
touched from all sides, sending shivers throughout her body.
As time went on, her excitement waned and gave way to worry. It only pricked at
first, but eventually began to gnaw at her.
What was she doing here? She'd only seen this guy once over the internet. He
could be anybody. Worse, nobody knew where she was! She'd only told her boss
that she was going on vacation for two weeks, nothing more. If she never came
back, nobody would know where to look for her.
The silence pushed opressively down upon her.
"Nnnnnnnnngh!" she cried into the darkness. To her plaintive whimpers, only the
creaks and groans of an empty building replied.
Alone.
She shifted her position, then returned to shivering in the darkness. Why did
she come here? Why had she listened to him in the first place? What if he had
no intention of coming? She'd be trapped here, waiting for anyone who might
enter. She shifted again and felt the nipple clamps tug as the chain caught on
something.
The door creaked open. Cynthia remained perfectly still. Kind of pointless,
actually. Her cage stood out boldly in the midle of the room. The light came
on as heavy footsteps entered the building. They moved at an easy pace,
stopping next to her cage.
"Even when I see it, I don't believe it!" a strange voice exclaimed.
"Nnnnngh!" She struggled in her cage, but of course it was useless.
"Whoa, calm down, girl."
She heard a chain rubbing against the cage, and suddenly felt her throbbing
nipples being pulled. "Nnngh!"
The man chuckled. "Awfully sensitive there, aintcha?" The pull intensified,
and she pushed against the back of the cage to compensate.
A pair of hands encircled her breasts and began to massage them, tugging at the
clamps occasionally.
Cynthia was terrified. Screaming was a moot point. Struggling was useless. He
continued his lesiurely violation of her imprisoned body.
"I'd sure love a piece o' yer ass right now, girlie. Too bad you're spoken
for!"
She felt his rough hand rubbing her behind. "Lucky for you, I guess. I like to
play rough."
The cage began to move.
"Holy shit, you're wet!"
The cage rolled back some more.
"Look at the mess you made on the floor, you little slut!"
Her juices had been dripping down her legs for some time, and there were two
small puddles on the floor where the cage had been sitting. Her cheeks burned
in humiliation.
"Oh, he's gonna LOVE you."
The cage was in motion again, and rolled out the door towards a waiting truck.
He wheeled Cynthia's cage along the pavement and onto a metallic platform. A
steady whine filled the air as she was lifted even with the truck bed.
She couldn't make anything out from the gloom inside, but he seemed to know
exactly what he was doing. She heard the odd clanks as things touched the side
of her cage, but couldn't really tell what was going on beyond that. The man's
sillhouette appeared briefly against the night sky, only to be blotted out as
the door rolled shut. Cynthia waited, alone and afraid, in the darkness.
The engine roared to life and she was in motion. It was impossible to say how
long they drove for, but it seemed like an eternity in the darkness. Every time
the truck lurched forward, she would be pushed headfirst against the cage, and
her nipple clamps would stretch her painfully.
Completely disoriented, alone, naked and bound, she could do nothing but await
her fate.
Eventually, the vehicle slowed, then stopped. She heard the driver walk to the
back of the truck. The door rolled up, spilling bright light into the cab.
Through the glare, she thought she saw the man enter, then darkness descended as
he put a cover over the cage.
She was in motion again. The cage made numerous turns, and at one point went
down an elevator. Finally its motion ceased, and the cover was removed. The
light blinded her again, but was quickly replaced by darkness as a heavy door
creaked and slammed shut behind her.
The boots faded into the distance, leaving her alone with her thoughts. All
thoughts of a game had vanished. This was for real! This was her life she was
throwing away like a cheap trinket!
As the hopelessness sunk in, she began to whimper softly.
The door opened once again, spilling a rectangle of light around her cage on the
cobblestone floor. A sillhouette appeared, and footsteps approached.
She felt a tugging on her waist, and suddenly the chastity belt fell away.
She moaned as a finger invaded her labia, caressing her clittoris. The
stimulation continued until she was breathing heavily through her nostrils, then
stopped suddenly.
A face appeared before her. She couldn't really see that well in the gloom, but
it looked familiar. It was then joined by an unmistakable voice.
"Hello, princess." her master cooed. "Welcome to my lair."
--------+--------
End
