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She’s The One
By Toran
She slept fitfully inside her box. There was nothing else for her to do. And that, of course, was all her fault. Indeed, she was the one who was feeling in a rut and wanted to try something different, something daring, something dangerous. She was the one who did the sexy strip-tease for him. She was the one who seductively opened his zipper and there, on her knees, eyes batting up at him, gave him head until he was on the brink and refused to go any further. She was the one who allowed herself to be thrown over his knee and paddled – that was different. That was daring. That was dangerous.
She was the one who stroked him, again giving him her best doe-eyed look as she stopped. She was the one who smirked at the ropes he brought in from the shed outside and she was the one who shook her head ‘no’ when he threatened to tie her up. She was the one who fought, but just a little and certainly not too much, as he bound her hands behind her, then her elbows, forcing them to touch. That was different. Daring. Dangerous.
Naked, bound, she was the one who sucked him until he shot deep into her mouth, one hand holding her hair in his fist, the other pinching her nipple so tight she thought it may pop off. She was the one who called him names. She was the one who wondered aloud whether he sucked dick, too, like her. She was the one who fought harder as he tied her legs together tightly and tossed her onto the bed. She was the one who orgasmed so hard she couldn’t keep from crying into the pillow as he took her from behind, tied hand and foot and unable to stop him. So different. So daring. So dangerous.
She was the one who tried to keep her lips closed when he balled up her discarded panties and pinched her nose and stuffed them in her mouth, taping it all in. She was the one who kicked against the walls as he threw her over his shoulder and marched her downstairs to the workroom. She was the one who cried tears of fear as he carefully measured her and cut wood and nailed nails and built a small box, just larger than her measurements. She was the one who panicked as he stuffed her inside the box and methodically nailed it shut. Different and daring and dangerous.
She was the one who nodded off. Unsure how long he’s kept her in her box. Unsure when he would let her out. She was the one who listened uneasily as he lectured her about her new life as his toy, his slave, his fuck-thing. She was the one who silently sobbed when the lecture stopped and she was left with only a claustrophobic box, her throbbing arms and legs, her filled mouth. And a mind who got something different, daring and dangerous.
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