One For Emily

                               One for Emily.

                                                       By DemonMonsterDave

All the usual disclaimers apply. This story is totally imaginary. If you are too young or impressionable to read it, do not go any further. The author accepts no liability whatsoever.

"I want you to keep me," my voice was almost a shout due to my nervousness and rather stressed condition.  I had been building up to it for so long, and it pretty well blasted out.  He didn't react to my highly strung bark.  He didn't reply immediately either, just kept driving us towards the train station and the termination of our trial weekend.  He had tried to have me fellate him, but I'd resisted and he hadn't forced it. He had made me wear a schoolgirl's gymslip and tights, only to tell me later how he'd been soaking them in piss all day. He had made me wear a diaper while I cleaned his house and ironed his shirts.  It was all of this that had welled up inside me as we began our journey; he making small talk about racing drivers, and me churning with a tumult of conflicting, sharp emotional strain.

Since I didn't know Leeds, it was a surprise to me when the car pulled back into his street. He had brought me back, possibly approving of my outburst. Still, the silence continued, and my mind ran over the dilemma that had been tearing at me. I was caught between the perception of two great wrongs, one of which was the long-learned belief that this kind of lifestyle was frowned upon, that any homosexual actions were unnatural or bad. Fortunately for me, my confidence that we are here, primarily, to live, had won out and so I'd just given myself over to the dark side, over to him. Nagging worries over what my family would say, or how to hide it from them were banished by his words, soft, weighed and filled with portent.

       "In the short time you've known me; I've been gentle and considerate. I was concerned about Emily, that for some reason this may not have been what you really want, but were just trying to please her. I need to put that to rest before I will move forward." It was a long speech for him, not being in my short experience much of a pointless talker. He was waiting for something from me. I studied him, lots of unsaid things held back. He was clean cut, fit, professional, a few years older than me and apparently a dentist. He had been quite kind during our short contact; something which I had hoped would be the case as one result of my deceit. Guilt that I had cheated in my personal advert in the bondage magazine welled up, and this time I allowed it to settle in me while I looked out at the cold morning, the trees laden with frost, a world dark and dripping.

"Emily is imaginary," I managed finally. A dark pulse of trepidation coalesced inside quickly; I had the peculiar notion he would hit me, right there in the car, but no, he would be angry at my lies, at the fake letters and gifts and urges to not go easy on the worthless boyfriend. Exhaust vapour began to appear in my view to the side at the same time  as the interior window started clouding over with the condensation of our breath. The engine idled. No, he didn't shout or even change his calm expression. Rather - as befitted my previous description of him - he wasn't outwardly angry at all, sighed instead, and his tone was lower and a little harsher when he, at last, spoke again.

"There is no turning back from here. I don't do limits, or safe words, or soft. If you come with me now, you're mine. I'm thinking physical modifications in the future. I'm thinking everything I want and little for you. So, if you come now you won't be given the choice again," he stated, very much the professional offering a prognosis. "It's either that or get the fuck out of my car you lying little prick."

       I didn't get out. After giving me about ten seconds, he engaged the engine again and we soon pulled up outside his home. We got out, went back inside.

       "Strip," he barked as he led me upstairs. "Use the toilet. Quickly, I was on my way to work if you don't remember." I hurried to comply, and then rushed upstairs to his bedroom.

       "Here," he said waiting for me under the beam running across the third-floor attic. He had a pair of plain steel handcuffs. He locked me in place, so I was trapped with my hands cuffed around the beam above me, leaving me standing in the cold, my skin prickling and my little cock perking its head at the treatment. He left the room and returned quickly with a leather ring gag, and in seconds I was left alone once more, drool and pre cum already dripping. I heard the door slam two floors below me and a feeling of delicious despair overtook me. My heart had been hammering and my mind racing, but now I started to settle down, the bondage bringing its lack of responsibility. Then I heard his car start and screech away, and my despair began to stretch in welcome for this long day of discomfort and boring loneliness. My arms and legs began to ache but it could only be psychological so far. I shivered as my own dribble startled me landing on my cool skin. I moaned, then settled my mind to wait.

I started to cry when I realised that finally the sun was going down. I cried with the very real pain in my limbs, with emotional exhaustion, with relief at the passage of time, with deep apprehension at what tonight would bring. I cried at the uncomfortable fullness in my bladder and the chafing on my wrists and the sharp, evil pain in my jaw, held in the same position all day. I cried at the pointless bobbing of my unreachable dick. 

After a while, the darkness of night nearly complete - no direct sunlight on the window - I learned that crying didn't help. I tried to focus on the submissive position I was in, but my pains and aches and emotion made focus impossible.  My thoughts rippled randomly instead around the dreamy idea of his return that had occupied me often during this long hard day. Again, it was confusion, because I had fear too, of course. I had been in this before, though not cuffed to a beam, or even naked for that matter; but dressed in that cute feminine uniform and tied to the chair. Two nights ago, the night of my arrival. He hadn't come back until late. Would that happen again? Tears threatened again but I shrugged them away with an understanding of their uselessness.

Later, I woke from a semi-dream; the pain in my body searing me suddenly as it came back to my perception. I groaned dejectedly. My arms began to tremble uncontrollably, at the limit of their endurance.  It was fully dark, and the merest hint of a streetlights-orange glow had been visible in a short arc above the window for quite a while. My whole body was trembling with exhaustion and a sea of aches. I was shivering too with the cold, and the fear had grown to overshadow my excitement so my even my dick had softened and I knew it would be shrunken and pathetic down there, my balls hugging my body tightly for warmth. Memory of my dream was hazy, but thinking of my humiliating appearance reminded me of something in the now scarcely glimpsed narrative.

The door slammed. I grunted back to consciousness, and then groaned with the pain of wakefulness. Drool spilled from my mouth and I tried to catch it on my chin - the darting motion of my neck bringing a moment's cramp - but failed. A light shone, reflecting, I guessed, from two floors below. I heard him moving around, the rattle of keys and plastic. My heart began to race, and I felt my cock harden. I foolishly tried to convince myself that it was a reaction to my urgent need to urinate, rather than anything else. My jaw creaked when I tried to flex it and now my neck muscles jolted me with short cramps at each side.  It occurred to me as loud rock music began to blare from below that my now raging erection was stimulated not at all by my earlier positive dreams, but by the darkest of terror that had come on as sudden as the echoing rock song. During this long day of pain, the fear had grown and grown until now, upon my latest waking, it was total. 

A short time later, another light blinked on, and then I heard the sounds of water from the bathroom directly below. I realized that he was in no hurry for me, and I was actually glad, for the tremors throughout my body and my new-found warmth despite the chilling cold up here were only terror at what he would do when he actually appeared. My raspy breathing, my racing heart and the prickled hair all over my skin too, even the exhaustion was dismissed in the face of it.

When he did appear, at last, I had succumbed to my state and was half-dreaming another forgettable but  affecting nightmare, my body swaying gently forward and back on leaden legs in the unlit room. I actually shrieked a little at the shock, and it brought a frightening smile to his face, fully stark in the sudden light as his hand hovered at the switch by the door. His other hand held a large selection of paper and plastic shopping bags. He seemed to catch himself, and the smile disappeared, but the tracks of it were clear in his dark brown eyes.

The first accessory I received was a thin steel collar which he fitted around my neck. He still hadn't spoken. His fingers were cold from the outdoors. His eyes were cold too as the metal clicked into place and he padlocked it at the back. I felt desperation in my guts, with only the frigid loneliness and the now familiar sharp aching of my limbs and my body. The collar was a fingertip's hug to my skin, would cause chafing and breathing difficulty I assumed, not that I had any experience of wearing such a thing. It was cold, too.

Next out of the strewn bags was a new shiny metal ring gag which he got me to accept in replacement of the other, the ice of his gaze something which, along with my painful bondage, made me eager to obey, moaning softly with the short relief in my dull, aching jaw before the new gag, cold and hard, was pushed in. The rigid contraption pulled my mouth into a perfect circle, wrapped tightly about my jaw. It was steel, and soon padlocked at the back of my head and at the back of the collar. I started to feel panic at the extreme restraint - when I moved my head back the collar tightened against my Adam's apple at the front - my body and mind shocked from the exhausting day and constant fear and pain. The collar felt too tight, as if any stretching may cut off my air, and the ring gag brought tears to my eyes with its extreme locking of my lower face. He didn't hesitate in his work, just ignored my grunts and then stood back and surveyed me as I limply hung from my wrist restraints.

His silence was freaking me out as much as anything else as he stood there for long minutes looking me up and down. I shivered in the cold, a long line of drool leaving a slimy trail down my front, my limbs nearly paralysed from the cold of northern England and cramps and agony of standing on near tiptoes all day long: I was jigging from foot to foot. My arms were no better off. I could not feel my fingertips at all, which may have been a little mercy. My upper arms were being stabbed by two daggers of agony in the muscles, and my forearms felt like lead weights. My body was trembling constantly, and little cramps pulled at random muscles, making me groan through the wide O of my mouth and shudder to adjust my position. He simply watched me, doing my little dance to the symphony of my pain, and groaning softly - the sound of an animal, a stretched out strip of frozen vulnerable flesh.

After a long time, he reached into the shopping bags again, revealing a boxed digital camera. With only a few beeps and a soft whirring, he had it activated. He placed it on the top of a cabinet in the corner facing me in the centre of this half of the room. Its mindless eye looking directly at mine.

Finally out of the shopping debris came more shiny steel, he untangled chain and rings to reveal a full set of body manacles. The larger bottom pair he efficiently locked about my ankles, two new kisses of ice and tightness. It occurred to me that should I try to kick my feet away, my legs probably wouldn't move anyway. The chain was very short.

He stood up to manacle my wrists. His body was warm against mine and it was automatic that I pushed myself against him, groaning with the movement and the scant reward of softness and warmth from his fully clothed body. I felt the twin embraces of the cold steel on my wrists, but my mind had been pulled into a deeper place by this contrast between us, at how totally it demonstrated my role as the slave.

I fell. There was no strength in my body, and when he released my arms I simply toppled on my two numb pillars of legs. He grabbed my collar, cruelly slowing my impact. The breath was pulled out of me by the simultaneous shocks; I gagged, and then retched on my empty stomach, panicking at the close embrace of the collar. He grabbed my arms again, padlocking them to the back of my collar on a short chain to complete my steel bondage. Then he left. I lay perfectly still for a while, on my left side, scared even to try to move at all for the pain it would bring. Then I did, moaning as I extended my elbows out and rolled fully onto my front. I grunted as my arms settled, uncomfortable again, but different and two close in my back to the collar for any kind of ease. I couldn't move at all from this position and I continued to cry, softly, drool and tears pooling on the hardwood floor.

I must have slept for a while, because I was given the joy of awaking to this new, desperate predicament. The lights were off. It was fully dark. I had pissed myself and was lying in a vast cold puddle that reached my toes and chin. I tried to roll sideways, also desperate to ease the tightness of the collar which was restricting my breathing so that I was gasping like a tortured animal. My arms were numb and would not respond at all to my need to lift them towards the collar. I couldn't roll either, my body now a run-down wreck, so I lay there, breathing shallowly, staring at the line of drool which connected my lip to the lake of urine I was shivering in, waiting in abject terror for my new master to return.

The screeching of furniture behind me woke me with a start again, and I groaned and grunted in a tumult of emotion. He pulled a chair across the floor, probably the chair I had been tied to the night of my arrival - when things had been soft and sane. It creaked as he sat on it, forming a large shadow in the semi-darkness which I had to strain to see the top of.  I concentrated on breathing, the only way that worked, and looked down at the glistening pool of my juices before me.

It was a while before he spoke, during which I took stock of my condition for the thousandth time during this long long day. It was clear that I was broken; the details were the same, pain, muscle exhaustion, cold, and now wet and stinking.

"My girlfriend actually wanted a girl, so we'll have to feminise you quite seriously I think," his tone was soft and I thought I smelt the hint of alcohol, although my nose was pretty blocked by the results of my constant crying. He had mentioned his girlfriend before, although I hadn't really dealt with it mentally. There was still a large backlog of emotions and experiences and data I had to deal with, and more was piling up.  My greatest fantasy, as a hetero male, was of course to be enslaved by a woman, yet the joy at the thought of it was only now entering my attention. 

"This place isn't suited to dealing with a slave, so you're quite lucky that we recently bought a farm which you will be useful in renovating. I propose to outfit a full dungeon there, which will be fun." He paused, and then I saw the red glow of a cigarette, but it was the heady aroma of cannabis that reached my nostrils. I heard him take a drink also before he continued. "It's interesting that you may have based your decision to freely give yourself to me, something which is now impossible to rescind, by the way, on my lack of physical abuse and my somewhat kind temperament with you."  He had hit me with a cane, through a thick child's diaper, and this had been the extent of it. He had relented from forcing me to suck him. "It's amusing to me that you would be so so incorrect, it being instead due to location alone. Your freely given choice therefore becomes somewhat non-consensual, which pleases me immensely at your expense." He took another drag on the joint.

"As a practicing dentist, I plan to use your mouth for research and your body for other physical experimentation outside my professional field. Tam wants a housemaid and sex toy, so you'll be adapted to fit both roles for as long as they converge." It wasn't the cold that was wracking my body now, but a little introduction of icy terror. His tone was direct and lacking emotion. I peered up at him, but could not make out his face in the darkness, never mind his expression. This was the most he'd ever spoken to me, and I had a fear he would continue.

"We never really discussed your limits, relying on that imaginary whore to keep me in check and selfishly protect you in such a deceitful and dishonorable way." I heard an empty can touch the wood beside his chair, and then he popped open another one. I shivered in the cold darkness at his feet. Had I been his equal in any way, I would protest at his over-exaggeration of what was, for me at least, only a way to get around the fear of single young males without a controlling female in these alternative social circles.

"You don't have any limits. You are no longer a human, but a toy for me and my somewhat cruel foreign wife." He accented the word foreign, and his voice was slower and slurring mildly. My mind was overwhelmed, I couldn't really focus on any of these horrific things I was hearing, except to get an introduction to how terrified I would be later, when my mind was functioning normally again. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, had drained me of any reactions.

"I'm going to have you classified as legally dead, after you send a few postcards to your family. Then you won't exist, except in my dungeon. After we tire of you, which you had better hope is not too soon, we'll pass you to someone else, or maybe go too far, we can be like that when we are together."

I was semi-dreaming; another horror movie from my thriving sub-conscious, which matched his descriptions.

"I hope you don't like pain."

He said more, but I guess exhaustion finally took me fully, for it was the last I knew of day number one.

                               The End.