Locked in the Closet

I wake up in darkness.

Keeping track of time has become difficult since he locked me in the closet. I can follow the light from the crack at the bottom of door but I can't tell if it's artificial or sunlight. Can't tell if it's day or night. Can't tell if I've been in here days or hours or maybe it's only been minutes.

"I have something to show you upstairs. Come see."

I eagerly followed him to his bedroom hoping the something to see was in his pants. I would have been happy to spend some sensual time seeing that up close.

But he lead me past the bed and into the walk-in closet. It's a cozy space only about 8x8 and on the wall across from the door is a new hook. A metal plate with a heavy O shaped ring dangling from it.

I ran my fingers over the cool texture, tested its weight and heard the clink of the ring falling back in place. Remembering that I had seen these on the walls of the dungeons and other play spaces that he had taken me to.

I had only begun to consider what it meant, that he had installed one here in his closet, when a heavy black cloth dropped over my head.

The struggle was an instinct. I felt his arms come around me in the dark and reacted. I used my legs and the weight of my body to attempt to throw him off me so I could escape.

The only thing my struggle achieved was taking us to the floor where we grappled for a bit longer but I was soon face down. Not a position of power. It took him very little effort to pin me. His knees held my arms down and his weight rested on my back.

My breath came out in short huffs under the sack that he had placed on my head. I couldn't see what was happening but I felt the leather of the collar circle my neck tightly. Heard the click of the lock falling into place. After that it was easy enough for him to attach the other end of the chain to the ring I had just been admiring.

"We're going to play a little game now. For as long as I want to play. At the end of the game you'll have learned what being my possession means. Understand?" I wasn't sure that I did but I nodded anyway.

He helped me to my feet while taking off the hood. Then removed my clothes. After he tossed them into the bedroom he rubbed my shoulders and stared down at me with a devilish grin.

He kissed me lightly on the top of my head and walked out of the closet. I followed, always wanting to be close to him, but as he crossed the threshold the chain that held me attached to the wall pulled taut and I'm snapped back.

He watched me struggle with my confusion for a bit. Then smiled again while he closed the door. I heard the distinct click of a lock and then I was alone. In the dark closet. Naked. Chained to the wall.

Sometimes I can hear him on the other side of the door. The sounds of him moving things around or talking on the phone are fascinating from inside the closet.

At first I would call out to him, knock on the door or shake the handle. One time I lay in the floor scratching at the wood like a trapped kitten. But he doesn't respond. So I eventually stop begging to be let out.

Sometimes he brings in a chair so he can feed me. I kneel in front of him while he picks out the morsels that I should eat next. He tells me when to chew. He tells me when to swallow.

There are no decisions in the closet. In a way it is quiet peaceful.

When he uses me in the closet he is always rough. Dangerous. Scary.

And he uses me. Often. For his pleasure. He has no concern about my orgasm. That would be like asking your drinking glass if it's having a good time while you are quenching your thirst.

When he came to take my throat. He wrapped the chain around his fist. To shorten it. To limit my movement. When he pushed in too deep I tried to pull back. He punched me with that hand covered in chain. After that I'm too dazed to do anything but be an open vessel for his cock.

When he came to take my pussy. He puts me face down on the floor with my knees curled under me. He wraps the chains around my shoulders and wrists this time. Reminding me that the chains are always there. Keeping me in the closet. This time he fucks me so hard that my head slams into the floorboards with a thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

When he came to take my ass. I had been asleep. I screamed. I cried. I begged him to stop because it hurt too much. He only fucked me harder like he was matching his grunts to my screams to the clink of the chains in a twisted harmony of fucking.

After all this time, which I have given up trying to calculate, I am covered in tears, drool, and his cum. I feel dirty but it's also comforting. It's a reminder that he was once here inside the closet with me. He was once inside me.

And that's how I wake up. In the closet. In the darkness. Understanding what it feels like to be his possession.