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association day 7 by adrian hunter and chelsea shepard

Association (a serial bdsm novel)
By Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard
Note: past episodes can be accessed at
http://www.adrianhunter.com/association_about.htm
DAY 7--SABRINA

In the morning, I neither heard nor saw Geoffrey come downstairs.
But when I felt a hand touch my head, I woke up instantly. I was wet
and sticky, and a dull pain emanated from all my body parts. An
awful stench came through my nostrils, and I realized I had been
unable to control my bladder during the night. What a nice way to
wake up.

He began to unwrap the tape, starting with my head, and unpeeled the
rubber hood. The fresh air on my face felt wonderful. He took the
earplugs out so I could hear his cheerful "good morning, Sabrina."
However, he didn't touch the gag, and continued unwrapping me in
silence. Just as well. I needed time to recover. I kept my eyes
closed to avoid the bright light from the ceiling and the darker
light in his eyes. After what he'd done to me, I found it
increasingly difficult to sustain a stare. My state of constant
arousal didn't help, either. I couldn't hide some of the physical
symptoms, but I would rather die then admit my need to him. And I
mentally erased the perverted imaginings caused by a night in bondage.

When Geoffrey pulled away the last piece of tape holding my heels
together, he helped me up and held my shoulders until I regained my
balance.

"Can you stand?"

I nodded, averting his eyes. He hadn't made any comment about the
unfortunate urine leak, but I knew he could always react later, when
I least expected it.

Moving behind me, he ordered me to put my hands behind my back, so
he could lock the leather mittens together. Then he knelt down and
removed the manacles holding the iron balls.

"First thing you need is some soap," he said as he gestured to the
stairs.

The shower was unlikely to be a moment of private comfort, but at
least it was a better start to the morning than what I had dreaded.
I preceded him up the stairs, hoping he would remember to pull out
the awful plug that worked itself deeper inside my ass with every
step.
--GEOFFREY--
Once in the bathroom, I took off Sabrina's ballet boots and bondage
mittens, only to replace them with the iron collar and its manacle
extensions. I whisked my prisoner efficiently through her morning
ablutions--enema, shower, shaving--as if she were an animal being
prepared for market. When I was satisfied with her cleanliness, I
took off the collar, returned the leather gear to her hands and feet,
and added a ring gag that forced her mouth to remain open in a
perfect "O."

"Hands behind your back."

Click.

"Kitchen."

She wobbled unsteadily on her heels as we slowly made our way
downstairs and through the living and dining rooms, but I was in no
hurry. I sensed a definite change in her demeanor, but I couldn't
really tell if she was simply accommodating me to keep me off my
guard in hopes of mounting another escape attempt, or if she was
starting to drift into new territories where desires overwhelm common
sense.

I would bet on the former, because at worst, it helped hasten the
latter.

Once in the kitchen, I directed her to kneel down and bend forward
until her head was practically touching the ground.

"Stick out your tongue."

When she hesitated, I smacked her hard on her upturned ass, leaving
bright red marks where my palm and fingers made contact.

"Press it against the floor, and leave it there until I tell you
otherwise."

I turned away and busied himself at the stove. A few moments later,
I stuck a steaming bowl of oatmeal laced with baby food near her face.

"Eat it. All. And lick the bowl perfectly clean. Or else you
won't eat again today."

Smells from my omelet and coffee filled the kitchen as she lapped
her gruel. When she had finished as instructed, I pushed a plastic
bowl filled with water at her bowed head.

"Drink."

When Sabrina had licked every available drop, I grabbed her hair and
pulled her upright, then began unbuckling my trousers in front of her
face.

"And now, your dessert. Do a good job, and I'll give you another
drink."

I guided my cock into the metal circle in her mouth, and didn't
withdraw until it was completely limp again. Without a word, I
picked up the water bowl and filled it at the sink. Sounds of her
greedy lapping soon meshed with my dishwashing.

After the kitchen was cleaned, I helped her to her feet, only to
push her down into one of the wooden chairs around the breakfast
table. I pulled off his belt and wrapped it around her waist and the
back of the chair, pinning her still-bound wrists behind her.

"Don't go away."

But I was only gone a moment, just long enough to get some rope and
a few other supplies. I pulled her feet apart and tied them to the
legs of the chair, leaving her pussy open wide. I repeated the
process with her thighs, then took off the belt and unlocked her
wrists so I could lash the mittens to the arms of the chair. Her
waist and breasts were likewise encumbered with cord.

I unbuckled the ring gag and pulled it out, but her mouth's freedom
was short-lived. The harness was a complicated affair, with leather
straps running around her head, under her chin and across her face,
all to hold a thick metal bit coated with rubber between her teeth.
The harness also featured large flaps of leather on either side of
her head next to her eyes.

"Must keep your attention focused," I noted as I adjusted the
blinders to eliminate her peripheral vision.

Satisfied with my handiwork, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and
wrapped a piece of rope around it, then tied it to a beam running
across the ceiling. Gotta love that rustic design, I thought as I
stood on a chair to knot it.

"Don't want you to hurt yourself by accidentally tipping over," I
told her as I stepped down.

For the grand finale, I unveiled a black box with several wires
running out of it, as well as an electrical plug, which I inserted
into a wall socket. I positioned two of the wires underneath her
crotch and taped them to the bottom of the chair. I ran the other
two wires up to her tits and wrapped their ends around her nipples.
With a grin, I twisted a knob on the black box.

"That's running a nice low-voltage stream of electrical current
right now. Problem is, it needs to make a complete connection, and
these two wires down here aren't quite touching."

I pointed to her crotch and smiled.

"As I'm sure you're aware, one of the best conductors of electricity
is water."

The look on her face told I didn't need to explain her predicament
further.

"But I've always been curious about something; when a girl gets, how
shall we say, excited, does the lubrication she produces have the
same conductive effect on electricity, as, say, pee?"

I placed the black box on the edge of the chair's seat between her
thighs and taped it down, then turned the chair so she was facing a
small television set on the kitchen counter.

"I'd hate to have you get bored while you ponder this scientific
dilemma, so I've arranged a little entertainment for you."

I reached over and pressed "play." A few seconds later, an image of
me strapping her to the cross in the basement burst onto the screen.

"I thought you might like a preview of your debut."

As muffled moans from both her mouth and the video harmonized, I
turned off the lights and pulled down the shades, plunging the room
into near-complete darkness.

"See you in a few."

The door slammed shut like a cannon behind me.
--SABRINA--
I closed my eyes to avoid watching my own crucifixion, but the
mental movie playing behind my eyelids was just as unbearable. I
couldn't get rid of the humiliation Geoffrey had imprinted on my body
and soul. Nor could I decide which part had been worse: the bowl
lapping, or the cock sucking. And to think I had always refused to
swallow, even when the man in front of me was someone I cared for.

And now, this. If his theory proved right, I would soon experience
a new aspect of electricity. Actually, I was already so aroused, it
was a wonder the circuit under my crotch wasn't connected yet.

When the moaning sounds coming from the video became too
distracting, I glanced at the screen and saw myself wiggling and
squirming while Geoffrey affixed the clothespins on my breasts. The
memory of the pain was still so vivid, my nipples hardened without
further stimulation. I shivered. The inner folds of my sex
contracted, squeezing out its juice. I closed my eyes again, just in
time for contact. In the nanosecond before the sizzling stream of
current hit my breasts and crotch, I wondered, rather incongruously,
how long it would take for me to come.

Not long. The electrical waves seemed to make a loop inside my
body, entering through my nipples, leaving through my vagina. Or was
it the other way around? The direction truly didn't matter,
especially when sweat began to glide down every inch of my skin,
conducting the current to other sensitive places.

Forgetting the rope holding my hair up, I tried to roll down the
chair in an attempt to dislodge the electrical plug from its socket,
but I rolled back when I felt the sudden tug threatening to scalp me.
But I was approaching a state of mind where losing some hair was the
unfortunate consequence of saving my life. Shaking uncontrollably
and not really caring where the shaking came from--pain, pleasure,
madness, or all three--I rocked the chair in all directions, paying
little attention to the pain in my skull. I just had to make it stop.

Time was no longer measured in minutes but orgasms. How many would
it take before--

The current stopped. After a couple of final convulsions, my body
relaxed. Keeping my eyes closed, not even caring to check whether I
had actually pulled out the plug or the divine had intervened, I
collapsed in the chair, feeling the heat glow from my bruised body
like embers on a forsaken battlefield.

Well, not completely forsaken, I thought with exasperation when I
heard Geoffrey's footsteps on the kitchen tiles. How long had he
been there? Wasn't he going to give me a break? Though I heard him
walk closer, I didn't bother to look up. I was certainly not going
to offer him the additional satisfaction of reading fear or distress
in my eyes. In fact, if it hadn't been for the monstrous gag, I
would have yawned. Just a little treat to prove to myself that I was
not completely defeated yet. I had to admit my flesh was yielding,
but it would take a lot more than a little electricity to overcome my
spirits. How much more was, however, the question I was too afraid
to ask.
--GEOFFREY--
"Very good, Sabrina," I said as I stuck my hand under her still-
trembling pussy. "I was afraid you'd have to spend the rest of the
day in that chair to learn about controlling your bladder. But since
you've done so well, we can move on to more constructive uses of our
limited time."

I switched off the black box and removed the wires from her nipples
and crotch, then unknotted her hair from the ceiling.

"And as a special reward..."

I unbuckled the harness from her head and pulled the bit out of her
mouth.

"Lunch is served."

After feeding her, I removed the ropes holding her to the chair, and
replaced the mittens and boots with a simple pair of handcuffs.

"Looks like you could use another shower," I said as I led her
upstairs.

"Or perhaps you would prefer a bath?"

Silence.

"That was a question, Sabrina."

"Yes, please," she whispered in a tiny voice.

After washing her hair, I let her soak in various oils and lotions
for almost an hour while I finished my preparations.

"Time's up," he said when I returned. "Mustn't let you get too
wrinkled."

I toweled her dry, brushed her hair and pointed her down the two
flights of stairs to the studio where I had erected a simple white
backdrop on the stage. The steel scaffolding was decked out with a
variety of spots and scrims to light the center from all angles. To
the left was a movable clothes rack packed with leather apparel that
gleamed darkly like a diamond in reverse. To the right was one of
the larger boxes, the lid open to reveal more of the same.

"Even though the council thinks you've run off to comfort a friend
in some far-off city, we still have work to do."

I pointed toward the stage and motioned her up.

"That's it...now, look up. Christ, you're going to need some war
paint."

I hopped up with a small makeup kit and deftly applied foundation,
eyeliner, blush and lipstick.

"That will do. Nobody's really going to be looking at your face
anyway. Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The easy
way means you help me get the clothes on and off. The hard way means
I do everything myself. If we do it the hard way..."

I picked up a butt plug big enough to frighten an elephant and waved
it at her.

"Do you want to do it the easy way?"

"Yes...please," she added hurriedly.

"Excellent. Now, don't fuck with me, Sabrina, or all bets are off.
Let's see, what to start with? This looks good."

I reached into the rack and pulled out a long leather tube with
laces running down the middle of its center.

"A hobble skirt, they call it. Now, for shoes, you should probably
wear something with closed toes. And maybe a halter top. Definitely
a matching arm binder."

For the rest of the afternoon, I dressed and undressed her in a
variety of corsets, bodysuits, bodices, bustiers and boots, then
added bondage accessories like cuffs and gags. I wanted to make the
most of the opportunity while she was still co-operative, so we tried
some fairly awkward positions, including a "flying hogtie," and
another session on the cross. There's nothing like effective
advertising to increase a consumer's willingness to pay a premium
price. Heck, I was even tempted to place a bid of my own.

When the rack of clothes was empty, I put down my camera and gave
her a smile.

"Now, wasn't that easier than fighting me all day long?"

"Yes...please," she said with a hint of a sneer.

"By your tone of voice, I'm going to presume you really want to say
something besides 'yes, please.' Quite understandable, actually."

I walked behind her and admired her naked ass framed by the sides
and straps of the backless leather skirt she had been modeling. Time
to get remedial, I thought to himself. A quick lesson before dinner.

First came the return of the ballet boots, then the mittens
padlocked behind her back, plus a set of cuffs for her elbows.

"Open your mouth."

The trainer was dominated by a studded black faceplate, but I
particularly liked the thick plastic penis on the other side.

"Spread your legs."

I removed the dress and began lubricating the butt plug between her
legs, then took my sweet time inserting it one inch at a time.

When nothing remained visible but its base, I found my favorite crop
and began painting her body at random with welts, paying closest
attention to her trim bottom, her heaving chest and especially her
moist pussy when she tried to escape the blows.

Satisfied that she comprehended the lesson, I walked in front of her
and applied a pair of tweezer clamps to her nipples and a third to
her pussy, all connected by a long chain that I used as a leash to
lead her back upstairs.

I took her to the dining room and instructed her to sit on a chair
to which I cuffed her ankles, then left her to prepare our supper.

But first, I needed to do a little work on the computer.
--SABRINA--
Once again, my body hurt like hell. Despite the cruel lashes from
the crop, my sex was throbbing with unfulfilled desire. Or maybe
because of them. Although I couldn't explain it, the combination had
ceased to surprise me. I was drifting dangerously to a place where
sex was the engine, with pain and pleasure acting as fuel. It was a
brainwashing drug, and I was being forced into addiction.

I made a conscious effort to regain a sense of reality. Far back in
my befuddled mind, there was something Geoffrey had let slip right
before the modeling session. What had he said? "Run off to comfort
a friend in some far-off city." Yes, those were his exact words.
They meant that his line about the association abandoning me had been
a lie, and he had simply, well, kidnapped me! Appalled to discover
his treachery, I was also relieved. At least I hadn't lost my job,
and I only had one enemy to fight. If only I could call someone.

I knew there was a phone in the living room, but it would take me
too long to get there with my ankles cuffed to the chair. Besides,
the noise would get his attention, and he'd be back in no time. Not
to mention the fact that I would never be able to make a call with my
hands imprisoned in leather mittens padlocked behind my back. I
would have to wait for a better opportunity. Given how meticulous he
was, it could take days. Or weeks.

Squirming on the chair to accommodate the hideous plug, I tried to
understand the hidden reason behind Geoffrey's behavior. I supposed
he worked for a pornographic ring, selling pictures at high prices,
but I couldn't believe this was the only reason why he would keep a
woman here against her will. His pleasure? To satisfy his sadistic
instincts? But surely he could find someone who enjoyed those games.
I knew there were such people.

I was still nowhere in my mental wanderings when I heard him walk,
no, run down the stairs. And whistling, too! Too bad I couldn't ask
why he was in such a good mood.

He glanced sideways to check, quite unnecessarily, whether I had
moved, and then he went into the kitchen. I heard him move about and
wondered what he was preparing for dinner. Then I realized something
was wrong with me. I was naked, tied up to a chair, gagged, my anus
indecently filled, and I was waiting for dinner to be fed to me, as
if this were a normal way of life. I desperately needed to get out
of this place.

Geoffrey reappeared with two plates which he left on the table
before going back for a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"A small reward for a job well done," he said as he filled both
glasses.

He removed the gag and let me sip the wine. My thoughts of escape
were forgotten as I swallowed the precious liquid, already feeling
its warm flow through my veins. The simplest pleasures--drinking
wine, taking a bath--had gained an uncommon intensity. When he moved
the glass away from my lips, a very natural "thank you" came out. I
perceived the slow rising movement in his chest, made my case worse
with awkward apologies and, totally lost, looked up to confront his
stare. He kept his eyes on mine for an instant, as if he was trying
to find malice or sneer. But I knew all there was to see was the
fear of yet another punishment.

"I'll pass on this one, Sabrina, but watch out. I won't be so
amenable next time," he warned.

"Yes, please," I replied as humbly as I could, so relieved to escape
the whip that I would have kissed his shoes if he had asked.

No further incidents happened during dinner. I ate every single
forkful he fed me, and drank enough wine to feel more than a little
dizzy. Once he had cleared the table, he untied my ankles and led me
to the living room. There, he unlocked the mittens and pointed at
the wooden coffee table between the couch and the tv set.

"Lie on the table, face up."

While I was trying to keep my thoughts clear, and not succeeding
very well, he produced various coils of white rope and wrapped my
arms and legs to the four legs of the table. He used more rope
around my hips, under and above my breasts, and I soon became one
with the table.

I cringed a little when he tightened the three clamps, but no sound
escaped my mouth, surprisingly free of any gag so far. Finally, he
inserted a small vibrator in my vagina and turned it on to a low
setting. He left the butt plug safely where it was.

"Now, listen to me well. I want to spend a quiet evening watching a
movie on TV. I don't want to hear a single sound from you. Or else."

I didn't think he expected me to reply, but I almost wished he had
gagged me. If he meant he'd punish me for a single moan, I'd be in
trouble very quickly.

He pulled the cord on a small lamp in a corner, pulled down the
shades, and inserted a tape in the VCR. He pushed the remote and I
turned my head to see the credits hit the screen. I recognized the
purported "classic" immediately, and remembered it as tedious to a
fault, not to mention three hours long. He didn't expect me to keep
quiet until the end, did he?

With the help of the wine, I abandoned myself to the vibrations
gently buzzing inside me. I no longer felt the burning welts nor the
discomfort of the ropes around my limbs and body. I was rocking on a
sea of pleasure and the waves were increasingly higher. Not high
enough, though. When the need for relief became more pressing, I
turned my head toward Geoffrey, desire painted on my face like a
rutting animal. But he kept his eyes on the screen.

I stifled a plaintive moan and looked to the screen at the actors
pretending to swoon over each other. Like I needed more stimulation.
I bit my lips and wiggle pointlessly on the table.

When the sex scene ended, he stood up and disappeared into the
kitchen. I couldn't hold myself back any longer and let out a loud,
lustful sigh. He returned a little too quickly, snacks in hand, and
stopped by the other side of the table, his eyes obviously surveying
my degree of arousal. I tensed, waiting for his reaction and hoping
it would be the right one.
--GEOFFREY--
"Sabrina, Sabrina, Sabrina," I said with mock exasperation. "When
will you ever learn?"

Actually, I was pleased she had given me an opportunity to gag her
again, as I was almost ready to make my speech, and I wanted my
audience to be captive in every possible way.

It didn't take her long to deduce the nature and function of the
bladder once I waved its dull black rubber in front of her face. But
a pinch of her nose convinced her that opening her mouth was
inevitable, just like everything else within my walls. I buckled it
tight behind her neck, and began squeezing the pump until the only
sound coming out of her head was ragged breathing through her nose.

"Much better," I said as I twisted the air valve shut. "Some day,
you'll learn that obedience is rarely a matter of conscious choice.
Until then, I'm happy to remind you as often as necessary."

It hadn't taken long to concoct a convincing fake identity; the
Internet is nothing if not hospitable to persons opening new accounts
with seven-digit deposits. Once I established myself on Iwata's
private server as a man of considerable wealth and discrete taste, it
took only a moment to place my first bid for Sabrina. If I won, I
would simply pay myself. If I lost, I'd be amply reimbursed for my
troubles. Either way, I didn't have to go through the hassle of
canceling Sabrina's auction so I could keep her for myself.

Most of my candles were the elegant tapered kind used for
illumination at dinner parties. But I remembered that someone had
given me a thick one with a sunken wick surrounded by translucent wax
walls--the light was supposed to glow from within or some such
blather--and I finally dug it out from the back of a cabinet by the
stereo.

The match flared like fireworks in the semi-darkness of the room.
Once lit, I set the glowing tube down between her legs, then pulled
out the vibrator from her pussy and tossed it onto the couch.

The ice cubes in my drink rattled like metal as I stretched a leg
over the coffee table to straddle it.

"Dominance and submission, pleasure and pain," I began, staring
directly into her ever-widening eyes. "Funny how they complement
each other so nicely."

I fished an ice cube out of my drink and held it close to her
stomach until a single drop splashed against her flesh.

"Under normal circumstances, that would feel cold. But tonight, for
some reason, it burns like fire."

I moved my hand up her body so the second drop fell just to the left
of one of her nipples, rolling down the side of her breast like an
errant rock down a hillside.

"Cold becomes heat. Pain becomes pleasure. Opposites attract. And
the truth is a lie. For example, one might think that it would be a
relief for you to have this clamp removed."

I slipped down the ring holding the tweezer grips and pulled the
metal away from one of her nipples.

"Not quite, eh? But if I do this..."

I bent over and placed my mouth around the tip of her pinkish bud,
then sucked it hard between my teeth.

"That somehow makes it feel better. Crazy old world, huh?"

I waited a few moments for her breathing to return to a pace that
somewhat resembled normal.

"That's the way I feel about you, Sabrina. At first, I figured you
for nothing more than another bimbo who fancied herself as a
'professional' woman on her way up the corporate ladder. Oh, don't
look so surprised. I've seen your type before. You're no better
than the silly models who are so desperate for a shot at fame,
they'll let photographers do anything they like as long as the
shutter keeps clicking. Only instead of pornography, you call it
public relations."

I picked up the chain connecting the two remaining clamps on her
nipple and clit, and began twisting its links around my fingers.

"Every day, another girl runs away to the big city, and no one hears
from her again. That's why it's so easy to sell them. No messy
investigations and all that bother."

I watched with wry amusement as she began thrashing against her
bonds, the table legs practically bouncing off the floor as she
desperately tried to wrest herself free.

"Not a chance, Sabrina. Your fate is literally in my hands. Watch."

I took a step back and lay the end of the chain across the top of
the burning candle.

"See? I could walk away, and there's nothing short of a hurricane
that would stop the inevitable. Of course, I could always prolong
the process..."

I placed an ice cube between the moist folds of her pussy beneath
the arms of the clamp.

"Fire and ice. Such a helpful combination in these circumstances."

The links closest to the flame began to blacken with soot as she
calmed down somewhat.

"That's better. And yes, you heard right. When I'm done with you,
you'll be carted off into the back of an unmarked package van en
route to your new owner, who will have paid me a handsome sum for his
new prize. Maybe you'll go to the Middle East, where western girls rank somewhere below sheep. Or maybe some crazed web site that needs
new blood to keep the monthly fees rolling in. In fact, I should run
and check the bidding now, maybe add a few new pictures to sweeten
the process. Auction sites are so convenient for managing these
affairs online."

I watched the chain glow faintly in the darkness.

"But you're different, Sabrina. I noticed right away that you
weren't like the typical girls who are either desperate to please me
in any way possible, or absolutely horrified to the point of tears
with my requests. You stood up to me, even fought back, but you
still did as I asked. That's a very rare quality in this business.
Rare enough to make me do something I've never bothered to do before."

A slight depression formed in the ice cube where it was beginning to
melt.

"I gave up long ago on finding a partner with whom to share my
passions. Most women I meet are nothing but pain sluts, or stupid
little fucktoys who end up whining the instant they don't get two
cherries on their chocolate sundae. So I do what I do, and feed my
monster without remorse or second thoughts. But you have potential,
Sabrina. Potential that's worth exploring."

The chain began to sink into the sides of the candle, bringing it
even closer to the flame.

"It certainly doesn't hurt that under all that bluster, you seem to
be smart. And let's not overlook your considerable physical charms.
But that's never enough."

Wisps of steam began rising from between her legs.

"So here's my proposition. You'll be with me for another five days,
long enough to find out if opposites really do attract. Play by my
rules, and I'll set you free with no questions asked, no tricks and
no conditions. Completely up to you. I'm willing to gamble that
you'll want to stay here longer, if not forever. But if you resist
me, or try to escape again, I'll simply keep you locked up in the
cage, then bundle you off to the highest bidder at the end of the
week."

I stared intently into her terror-stricken eyes as I unzipped and
slipped down my pants.

"Not much of a choice, I'll agree. But there's no turning back now.
The council knows everything. In fact, it was their idea."

Veins appeared on Sabrina's forehead from the force of her outrage.

"Say yes, and I can promise one thing..."

I lowered myself to poise my engorged cock in front of her sex, then
reached down, pulled off the clamp and pushed away the chain, the ice
cube and the candle with one quick motion before plunging my full
length inside her.

"Fuck" was the only thing I could grunt before the convulsions
obliterated both of our souls like a tidal wave crashing down on a
sand castle.
--SABRINA--
When Geoffrey withdrew and the orgasmic shock was fully absorbed, I
felt soft, warm tears gather up in my eyes and start a slow descent
down my temples and onto the table. I let them flow freely while he
cleaned up the mess left by the candle and ice cube. Perhaps he
thought I needed a moment to myself before I could answer his amazing
offer.

I was certainly grateful for the reprieve. He had taken me on a
monster of a roller coaster ride: first scaring the hell out of me,
both with the candle and the prospect of selling me to the "highest
bidder," and then his surprising alternatives.

Five days. If I behaved, if I obeyed him, I could flee this evil
place in five days. This is what prisoners on death row must feel
when they give up all hope, and the phone rings just before they
enter the chamber.

Strangely, I refused to consider his proposition. The words had
certainly hit home, but their implications--stay with him, forever?--
were too much to absorb. I dismissed them as illusions created by my
tormented mind, and focused on the only prospect that mattered; in
five days, I'd be free. Or sold.

It all made sense. There was no "Economy of Movement," no other
"model," no photo shoot to supervise for the council's annual report.
I realized I'd been sent by the board of directors to be
"disappeared," as the bad Mafia movies put it. The association would
corroborate Geoffrey's explanations. Nobody else knew I was ever
here, except maybe the woman I had heard in the basement yesterday.

I shuddered at the horrible visions that clogged my consciousness.
White slavery was a myth, a brown-paper fantasy dreamed up by horny
losers with no chance of ever winning a woman the normal way. He was
simply trying to scare me. And doing one hell of a job.

But what if Geoffrey was telling the truth? Or worse, what if he
really meant to kill me? I wouldn't put murder past that bastard
director's nephew.

But that was then. Now means surviving the next five days in a
state where I have a fighting chance for a shot at salvation.

Geoffrey returned just as my eyes dried up. I was more relaxed than
I had been in days. No matter what "play by my rules" meant, I
resolved to get with his program, since the alternative was
surrounded by steel bars from which the likelihood of freedom would
be dicey at best.

He opened the valve of the gag, letting the air out, and removed the
jaw-breaking instrument.

"So. Do you accept my proposition?" he asked.

A moment of silence.

Was I selling my soul? But it's not like I had a choice anyway. It
was this, or a brothel in Hong Kong. Theoretically. Best not to
find out for real.

"Yes, please."

"Good. Then I expect your total obedience and submission for the
next five days. Starting now."

"Yes, please," I repeated, feeling a knot of anguish already twist
my stomach. He had such a way of unnerving me even in the quietest
moments.

He bent down to cut the ropes loose and helped me to my feet. Then
he reunited the mittens behind my back and urged me toward the hall
and up the stairs.

After a quick shower, Geoffrey found new ornaments for me to wear.
Simple cuffs replaced the mittens. He buckled up leather bands of
various widths around my chest, waist, thighs and ankles. When he
was finished, I expected him to take me back to the studio, but he
led me to my bedroom instead.

"I suppose you could use a good night of sleep," he said as he
lifted the cover from the bed. "But don't think you'll be able to
toss around in your dreams. Here, lie down. Spread your arms and
legs."

When my wrists and ankles were tied to the bed posts, stretching my
four limbs to their limits, he picked up chains hanging down from
each side of the bed and locked them to the thigh, waist and chest
belts. Next, he pulled a hood over my head, complete with a
blindfold and the inevitable gag. Filling my mouth was not enough,
so he filled my two nether orifices, too. A strap locked to the
waist belt held the dildos firmly in place.

"No teasing tonight," he said while he worked on my bondage. "I
want you to be fully operational tomorrow, so..."

He pulled the cover over my body, up to my chin.

"Sleep well."

And he left.

Despite the bondage, sleep came easily. I was exhausted of all
strength and emotion. And I was no longer afraid. The story might
have a happy ending after all.
(continued in Association - Day 8)
***
Copyright 2002 by Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard. All rights
reserved. Please do not repost nor repurpose without permission.

***
"Something Just Clicked," a new collection of our bdsm short stories and novellas, is now available from Renaissance Ebooks

http://www.renebooks.com

***
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