Wrapped in an old t shirt, placed inside a shoebox and pushed under her bed frame lay his letters. There were only 4, each one nothing to look at from a distance, but containing words that terrified her mind and soaked her pussy in equal measure.
He had written, as promised, responding to her messages written on her blog; a dead-drop communication out of a modern day spy story. She had given up her address to this total stranger, a stranger who had proposed to take her as his prisoner and slave beyond the authorities power to find and rescue her. This alone made her feel weak at the knees whenever a new letter dropped onto her doormat; he was out there, somewhere, and if he is to be believed, he has been preparing something for her.
As she unwraps her secret stash and drops onto her duvet after work, her fingers begin to stroke and play on her shaven cunt. This, as much these days as scrolling endless posts of extreme BDSM images, is her release. For as many images and videos her hungry eyes consume, these words were hers; when she reads them she pictures herself there, and this is now how she likes to come.
'Like an animal, like an object. This is how you are to be kept. There is a heavy leather hood with wire lacing that once laced and skin tight, padlocks securely. The mouth and chin are open and there are holes for the nostrils, but you will be totally blind and deaf to all but shouts close to your head. I don't ever want to see your face; I've not tried to find out what you look like and that hood will be the first thing to go on you and may never come off.
They say that sensory deprivation is the worst torture that you can inflict on a human, but a human is not what you are destined to be, and I suppose that your sense of touch, of pain, of heat and cold will expand to be your entire world, so that should prevent you from losing your mind utterly.
I want you to forget everything about your past, even your name, your voice and your face. Soon you will be fitted with a made to measure steel scolds bridle that keeps you from vocalising anything more than grunts and screams; I will have full control over your jaw and what is placed into your face-hole. Expect your meals to be squeezed roughly into your mouth and to have to find your way to your water pipe where you can catch drips too stay alive
Your hands will be laced into heavy leather mitts, permanently. I expect your fingers to weaken and atrophy with neglect. You will become helpless to undo your restraints and perform basic human actions even if you were granted the user of your paws.
Custom made steel ankle boots will keep your foot extended en pointe; but walking won't be an option in any case; an object like you will spend the rest of your existence grovelling in the dirt, on the hard stone of my floor or the cold steel of your box. You will have steel restraints welded on to your wrists, ankles, elbows and upper thigh so that fastened together, you will walk on knees and elbows only.
Further modifications will be made to my liking. I'd imagine that a strict tightlaced corset will follow until I can pick you up with both hands touching around your waist. Regardless of the size of your tits, they'll be milked by machine twice a day until you start producing, just so you think of me often and are happy to see me to ease the suffering of your swollen, leaking udders.
So you ask how I'll keep you? Suffering and in darkness, unable to mark the passing of time but waiting in desperate hope that you're owner will arrive to change your bondage and use your holes to give you something to feel.'
romaincrisis
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ellievsbear
