Warning – This fictional story is about the breaking of a slave by a sadist via brutal bondage, sensory isolation, bodily function control, humiliation and kinky, rough sex. I’m really Pushing Limits with this one. Read it anyway… Let me know if you think I should continue it.
Her anxiety pulses through her body like ice water. Her trembling limbs are stretched in all directions by unforgivingly cold, iron shackles. Her eyes water beneath the weight of a heavy, wool hood strapped in place by a gag which presses her jaw open, just to the point of discomfort. She struggles to swallow behind the large ball held firmly between her teeth. She had consented, even begged for this experience, but her mind now bubbles with concern.
She hears nothing, the silence is intense. She knows he must still be there, as he promised not to leave her in bondage, ever. And she believed him. She trusts him.
Slowly, she tries to calm her breathing with that thought. I trust him.
It does not soothe the fear that now erodes her sense of self, though. If this is a mistake, she’ll never know. Because in the end, she will be forever changed. She knows that, and exhales a long, cathartic breath.
Suddenly, she feels his presence, and closes her eyes blindly as it washes over her like warm bathwater. Odd that she would feel relief in his proximity, knowing that he may do unspeakable things to her today. He hadn’t told her his plans, so the anxiety remained, only diluted by the hope of his tenderness. Though, she is sure what she will experience in the beginning will lack any tenderness.
Lying beneath his open gaze, she wonders if he will speak. What he might say. What his voice will sound like. What he will expect. Her heart races as her patience begins to wither. Will he simply keep her like this and watch her all day? Will it be like this every day?
The time spreads out through her. She twitches at every change in the air pressure. She flinches at every tiny sound. Is he still here? Perhaps her sense of his presence is incorrect. But that would mean he’s broken his promise…
In the cold darkness, she pulls at her restraints to hear some sort of sound. She can’t seem to fill her lungs fast enough. The hood feels like it weighs a hundred pounds but she shakes her head to see if it will shift so that she might see even a fraction of light. It won’t, the strap pressing the wet, rubber ball against her tongue holds it securely in place. The lump in her throat grows as her mind furiously spirals into a state of panic.
What if he has left? What if he’s driven away and gotten into a car accident? What if he’s had a heart attack and is dying in the corner of this garage as she lies here completely immobile and helpless? What if she dies like this?
Her sobs begin to echo through the dead silence. She tries to call out for him, desperate for any change in the stillness. She chokes on her efforts, pulling at her restraints and retching, almost screaming, until she exhausts herself completely. She knows none of these actions will change anything, and finally resigns herself to be still. I must trust him.
Time passes. The air seems to get colder for a fraction of an instant. But maybe it’s her imagination. She senses him again, though she doesn’t hear or feel anything. Her heart begins to race as his presence draws nearer. Chills break out across her naked flesh and she is oddly, very suddenly aware of her undress.
She hears a click, like that of a light switch, and then feels warmth wash over her skin. Her mind prickles with a different fear. Is it just him? Would he invite others to join him? She’d never asked. She should have asked. What if a stranger is watching her? No, I trust him. That trust is all she has.
“You need water. Do not speak.”
His voice is low and cool as his fingers lift her head and unbuckle the strap quickly. He holds a bottle to her lips and she tries to swallow as quickly as possible. It feels as though she’s been like this all day, and as she drinks, she realizes how thirsty she was. She desperately wants to ask him how long it has been and if he left her alone. But after pulling the empty bottle away, his fingers wrap around her throat.
“Your little fit earned you nothing. You’d be smart to remember that.”
Before she can even process his words, he presses the ball of the gag back into her mouth and buckles the tight leather strap. She feels the lump rise in her throat, the familiar feeling of unbidden tears burning her eyes. She remembers him telling her that crying is part of the process, but if she indeed, truly wants to submit, she would not struggle. Even in her fear.
Letting her tears fall, her breath exits in tiny sobs. But she doesn’t fight, she simply allows herself to feel his disappointment. Her fit was out of concern for herself, not for him. She is there to please him.
After some time, she realizes that he is still there. She isn’t sure how she knows, but she feels him. Especially when he is near her. Is he just watching her?
She has reached a state of true discomfort. Her arms and legs are pulled so tight. Her ankles and wrists feel chafed from the hard metal they are wrapped with. Her jaw aches and burns from the stress of the gag. Her eyes and nose itch beneath the hot wool that covers two thirds of her face. Her stomach is empty and she’s sure it’s angry requests for food can be heard.
And, she needs to pee. Making her bondage even more uncomfortable.
She hadn’t thought about this very human, basic need. She knew she could go only hours without water and maybe a day without food. She’d voiced these concerns ahead of time. Though, the only promise she asked him to make was not to leave her alone. What if he expected her to hold it? Or worse, relieve herself right there on his cold, wooden table?
She began flexing her toes in an effort to take her mind off it. It only helped a little.
“I’m guessing you are in desperate need of a restroom. The fact that you’ve been lying there suffering, trusting that I will take care of you is very pleasing.”
His fingers work the locks at her wrists as he speaks. During his languid trip to her ankles, his hand tweaks a nipple and slaps the other. The pain nearly makes her wet herself, but she remains silent. Scratching his fingers down her thighs, he finally releases her ankles then grabs her hand to help her rise.
She is unsteady on her feet and he uses his body to press her belly against the table edge. Directly against her bladder.
“I wonder if you can hold it while I fuck your ass.”
She begins to shake her head, but stops quickly, thinking that would be a huge mistake. She closes her eyes praying he did not notice. But of course he did.
Grabbing her by the back of the neck, he pushes her forward onto the table so her toes lift off the ground. Lying on her full bladder, she is sure her body is going to fail, and begins to cry. Determination, however, pulls her hands from beneath her to her backside, spreading her cheeks for him.
He rubs the tip of his erection up and down her slit. She had surpassed discomfort. Her belly aches from the pressure, and every muscle is strained. Her tears continue when she realizes she won’t be able to relax.
As he kicks apart her feet, she is able to shift her weight so the table hits above her navel. The pressure eases just enough to be tolerable but as he pushes into her, she is overwhelmed by different pain.
“Don’t piss on me. You will not like the punishment.”
She sobs as he begins thrusting into her ass. His grunts echo off the walls. She reminds herself how pleased he’ll be if she can bear this punishing fuck. Remembering his disappointment earlier fuels her eagerness. I will not fail.
As he nears climax, she chants that thought in her mind, no longer sobbing. Instead, she focuses on his thrusts and the pain they cause, to tak
e her focus off the other pain.
Upon his completion, he pulls her up with his cock still in her ass and reaches down her front to feel her pussy. To confirm she hadn’t let go.
“I didn’t think you could do it, slut…”
Pushing her back down, he pulls out of her quickly. She hears his zipper before he grabs her neck once again.
As he pushes her through a door then down onto a freezing toilet seat, she exhales waiting to hear a door close. Instead, she feels his fingers releasing the buckle of her gag.
This time, he pulls off the hood as well, and she squints until her eyes adjust to the light. He is holding a bottle of water to her lips. How is she supposed to pee while he stands there watching her, expecting her to drink.
She closes her eyes and tilts her chin back while forcing her pelvic muscles to relax. After several swallows, he pulls the bottle away but remains. She realizes he’s waiting for her to finish relieving herself, and her face heats with humiliation.
Forcing herself to empty her bladder as quickly as possible, she tries to cover her face with her hands. He yanks them away quickly.
“Don’t make me tie you. You will have no privacy from me. Ever.”
Tears prick her eyes again as she frowns at the notion. He had warned her several times that slaves do not have privacy. He’d even made her repeat it. How could she not realize that meant no bathroom privacy? As she realizes this means she’d also have to do other toilet related things in front of him, her cheeks flame red hot again. But she successfully fights the urge to cover her face this time.
When she finishes, he doesn’t even allow her toilet paper before pulling her up and pushing her into a tiny shower stall. Turning the faucet and pulling a small hand sprayer off the wall, she knows immediately that this too is going to be uncomfortable.
The water is so cold that it stings. She squeals before clapping her hands over her mouth to silence herself. She’s not supposed to look at him, but her eyes involuntarily shift to his mouth when she hears him chuckle, lightly. His lips are curled in a sadistic grin, but she drops her gaze before risking allowing herself to look into his eyes.
Closing her eyes and dropping her hands, she tries again to prove her submission. He turns and shifts her, spraying every inch of her body until she is shaking from the cold that has now seeped into her bones.
When he turns the water off, she stands shivering for several moments before she opens her eyes, staring at the floor.
He steps toward her, holding the water bottle to her lips again. She’s so hungry, but has no inclination that he might feed her today. She can see a few inches of night sky through the closed blind on the tiny bathroom window. And as she drains the bottle dry, her stomach rumbles once more.
She continues to shiver as she watches him twist the plastic cap back onto the empty bottle. Her tears begin anew, sparked by the complete bewilderment of what he plans to do with her at night. She was growing more and more sure that he wouldn’t allow her into his bed this night.
“I wasn’t going to feed you tonight. But I hadn’t expected you to do this well…”
His voice was hard and cool. She is so tired. Her entire body aches as she stands trembling and softly crying in front of him. He grabs a rough towel from behind her and dries her, almost harshly, showing no mercy to her over-sensitized skin.
“Maybe I should just feed you my ass coated cock.”
His growled words make her wince. But she thinks to herself, Please him.
She slowly sinks to her knees, her muscles and tendons screaming, increasing her tears. But when she reaches the floor, she spreads her legs open sitting back on her heels and opens her mouth wide. To be used.
She closes her eyes, trying to avoid his. She hears no reaction from him, but knows he’s still there. She hears the faucet flip on then off, then his fingers on the top of her head, sliding through her soaked hair before gripping her tightly.
As the tip of his cock touches her tongue, she nearly gags with the thought of what he did earlier with it. She didn’t have time to think about it too much because he was almost instantly fucking her face with such force that she was gagging, gasping and sobbing within seconds.
When his cum shoots down the back of her throat, unceremoniously, he holds her face still with both hands. She can’t breath but she can’t even lift her hands to try to push him away.
He finally pulls back and chuckles, tapping her lips
“Good girl. I’m happy you know what this is really for.”
His fingers dig into her jaw lifting her face. It hurts and her eyes flash open. She doesn’t understand the look in his eyes. But she now truly believes what she hadn’t several days before. He is indeed a sadist.
“Stand up. You deserve some food for that.”
As she tries, excited that she’s been able to please him enough to deserve a reward, her body fails her. As she falls backward onto her ass, he laughs and her face reddens once more.
She gathers all of her strength and pushes herself up to stand. She suddenly finds his arm around her waist, guiding her through the door. Her knees are so weak, as they step into the kitchen and he lets go, they fail and she’s on all fours.
“Crawl over to the table then, weakling.”
She follows his command, wondering why she is so weak. All she did was lie on a table all day. She’d expected to have been beaten, mercilessly. But it occurs to her that being beaten wouldn’t have had the same effect on her. That kind of pain she can absorb and process. What he put her through today tore at her natural defenses. That was the point.
Kneeling next to the table, she can barely open her eyes, but glances at the clock above the sink. It is only 8:40.
She lets her eyes close as she listens to him moving around. The room is filled with a delicious smell… soup or stew? When she hears him in front of her, she opens her eyes. He pulls out a chair and sits, completely naked before her. Had he undressed before.
Popping a spoonful of his meal into his mouth, he reaches down with his left hand and pinches her nipple. She looks up at him, but quickly looks back down. His legs are spread before her and his cock is beginning to harden again. From looking at her? From that one fractional second of touch?
He takes another bite then reaches for both nipples, pinching and pulling. She winces and whines quietly, but thrusts her chest into his demanding touch.
She senses his smile but the only thought swirling in her brain is, Please give me food…
He pulls her closer, tips her chin back and brings the spoon to her lips.
“You can look at me while I feed you. When you are like this, accepting and trusting, I will reward you. When you lose trust and faith in me, like you did earlier today, you’ll be treated with the same lack of respect.”
His words and voice are measured as he slowly empties several spoonfuls into her waiting, starving mouth. She watches his eyes, strangely feeling devoid of any thought other than thanking him for the meal. How could she thank him without words?
After emptying the first bowl, he pulls a glass to his lips and takes several deep draws of the Amber, iced liquid. He holds it to her lips, and she recognizes it as iced tea. After several gulps he pulls it away.
She looks down at his erection marveling at his body and it’s ability to recover so quickly. He chuckles at her wide eyes.
“Oh, you want dessert! You think you deserve it?”
Pushing a spoonful from the second bowl of stew into her mouth, his eyes are dark and possessed. Her brow creases and she lowers her eyes, shaking her head slightly.
He grunts before taking several more bites then pushing the bowl away. Staring down at her, he swallows the rest of the tea and sets the glass down slowly.
Then, in a flash, he turns her and pushes her face to fl
oor. Her arms spiral out to try to keep her steady, still on her knees, and before she even knows what’s happening, his cock is buried deep in her pussy.
With his fingers wrapped tightly around the back of her neck and digging into the flesh of her already aching hip, he drills into her, viciously, but her tears do not return.
This is what she wants. To be used… To be owned…
When he collapses on top of her, he whispers against her hair, exhausted and drained.
And the pleasure of hearing those words is beyond any other.
When he rises up off of her, she shifts back into a kneeling position.
“You can sleep right here, instead of the garage. Clean up the kitchen tonight and have breakfast ready for me by 7am. There’s bacon and eggs, I want pancakes. Understood?”
Glancing up at him, she doesn’t know how to respond. She has questions. Was she just to sleep on the floor? Couldn’t she sleep on the carpet in his bedroom, at least? What if she had to use the toilet?
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, glaring down at her, and she realizes that the last question is the only important one.
“Go on, but remember why you’re here.”
“I’m sorry, Yes, Sir. I just wondered if I’m permitted to use the bathroom…”
“If you NEED something, you may come into my room and wake me. No. You are not permitted to use the bathroom without me. But remember what we discussed about needs. And remember that I like my sleep uninterrupted.”
She almost smiles at the memory of some of their conversations in the weeks leading up to this. But finds the idea of waking him for permission to pee completely embarrassing. Better get it over with now.
“I… Sir, could you take me now?”
He arches an eyebrow and she realizes, again, she isn’t supposed to be looking at him. She drops her gaze and waits patiently for his response.
“Yes. Crawl, though. I don’t feel like watching you fumble to stand, again.”
Bending forward onto her palms, she follows him down the hall to the small bathroom. Once inside, she pulls herself quickly onto the toilet seat, her face burning with humiliation. She sits, staring at the floor, begging her body to just let go, this isn’t a big deal, everyone pees. But she’s always had a timid bladder.
He stands there, staring at her, and she can feel his frustration building. Finally, she forces the stream to start and exhales quietly in relief. Once finished, she looks around for the toilet paper, but it isn’t in the holder. She glances up at him, and watches him pull off a section from the tube in his hand. She lifts her hand to accept it, but he pushes it away and lowers to squat in front of her.
Pushing the paper between her thighs, he wipes her, drops the wad and slides two fingers inside of her, gripping her, roughly.
“This is mine. Everything it does is mine. Everything it is used for is mine. You get over this modesty and remember that.”
He pulls his fingers free and rises, leaving her achingly bereft. He washes his hands and waits. Her heart races as she lowers herself back to all fours and follows him back down the hall. When they arrive in the kitchen, he grabs another glass of tea, allowing her several swallows, before he leaves.
Watching him walk out, his words ring in her ears. This is mine.
She remembers their talks leading up to this. He’d told her that if she truly wanted to be his slave, she would no longer own her own body. Standing, shakily, she realizes how much better she feels since having something to eat. She’d love to have another bowl, or even finish the cold one sitting there on the table. But it wasn’t her stomach to fill…
Oh my… Her head was already changing. Fleeting questions pepper her mind, but she decides to concentrate on the job he’d given her.
After she finishes cleaning and prepares most of the ingredients she’ll need to make breakfast, she flips the light switch and lowers her achy, bruised body onto the spot he had told her to sleep. She curls up, trying to conserve body heat, and closes her eyes, praying she wakes at the proper time.
Sometime later, she feels him, his presence. She tries to keep her eyes closed, but she can’t help but investigate to see if her intuition is right.
He is leaning against the door frame in boxers, with his glass, staring at her. She looks up at him, jealous of the glass he’s holding, but unsure if she wishes she had the glass or if she wishes he was holding her. He pushes himself upright, strides over to her, and kneels down to press the glass against her lips.
She drinks nearly half before he pulls it away. Chill bumps sweep over her arms and legs as his thumb skims over her lips, wiping a drop of water from the bottom. And then he stands and leaves.
Closing her eyes again, she slips back to sleep with no idea at all what to expect from Day Two.