McQueen

Gilded,
Light,
Trailing,
Black.
One.

One exists.
Only one.

Baroque threaded,
Gold, copper.
Tight waist.
Flowing folds.

No more.
Ever.

Yours for four days for the shoot–tomorrow off Rivington. Editorial privilege.

Retrospective piece.

Yours tonight, Friday and the weekend.

So hungry. Control yourself. It only just fits after four days of fasting.

Mine now. Editorial privilege.

Doorbell. Let me in. Twirl and smile, mock curtsey.

Smile back. Low whistle. Rare beyond rare.

You remember. It's the one we saw just before he died.

Lift the hem, heel out and smile.

The Louboutins. Excellent. Good girl. Never need to lock you in those...

Hold you a away. Twirl again. Giggle. Then beside you and a handful of hair. Hand on your belly and over. You squat.

No, don't duckwalk. Straighten your legs. Good, at the waist, as I taught you.

Two steps, three. Pause. Hand around my waist, now.

You know this, girl. Better. Hips higher.

Wait...this is special.

I know. You took me to the show. Remember? Right after he died.

Balk. Stop. Hair hard and face into my waist. Hand beneath your chin and pulled step by step. Resist. Thumb in your jawline, lock you in tighter. Pain. Focus. Relax. Walk–down the steps, down the hall...Nothing to be done but be led.

When did you last eat?

Left. Away from the stairs. Hardwood. Damnit. No no NO.

Head pulled up and hips hit hard granite edge. Pull back, let go. Twist. Arms trapped behind. Strappado lift. Arm under hips, just at the bend. Up and onto the work surface. Fight. Knees under, force your way down–try. Hand loose from your hair. Into back of your knees and slide. The other on your back. Head bangs on the countertop.

Fuck.

Rope, quickly around your knees. Through. Back of neck. Expedient. Push away, hands reversed and trapped. Wrists then elbows. Not tight, but no escape. Ankles bound, each. Knees released. Fight, but legs splay anyway. Re-rope neck.
Through your legs and to the eyelet at the bottom of the counter.

Hate me.

I'm glad we added the hardware to the island. I enjoy working on you in here.

Stop. Fuck. Stop. Please...

Calm down. Breathe.

Jute blindfold pulls your head back, tight.

Please. Marks.

Quiet. Three more wraps. Mouth open. They've seen these marks before. They know already.

They do! THEY DO! I don't care! It's the dress! Muffled drool.

Skirt up and over. Thong pulled left and tied. Silicon. A finger. Moan. Lurch forward. Another wrap passed through. Cunt! Damn the eyelets! Settled, immobile, two fingers, then three. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Skirt pulled free from wraps. Drape over your head.

Oh God, the dress. You know now. Where I'm going. Suspected before, but KNOW now. No. Please. No.

Nothing.

Relent. Footsteps. Refrigerator door.

Oh, good, still some cake.

Rattle of porcelain on granite in between your legs. Test bonds. PULL!! Nothing.

Footsteps. Off away into the hall. Susurration. Crinkle. Sound of splitting metal. Again and again.

Silence. Hours and hours. Thumbs on you. Stretching, massaging. Signal and trained to relax, settle further. No more resistance. Nothing stops. Nothing abides. Breathe and be.

Wide, soft, chill. Grunt. Passes in. Another and another. Four, five, six...filling. Strawberries. Struggle. Hold. Again, training works. Thirty minutes. The punnet, whole.

Massage again and wait.

Hand under, lift sore knees. A cushion now. Elbows, too. Blood sugar jumping. Giddy. Love me.

Hand on your hair, whisper and growl in your ear.

Mmphh through the rope at me–you, too.

First syringe. Steel tip slide. Pressure. 400ml. Fine. Secret; learned to enjoy–only pretend they hurt or shock.

Easy...no...cramp. CRAMP! Fuck! Pull hard. Water? What? Haven't cramped for months...

Syringe gurgle and a whisper. Headrush. Know before you hear.

Protein drink mixed with milk.

Fuck, it hurts. Fuck you! I hate you! Belly gurgles.

Low laugh and shhhh.

Tip past your anus again and another starts. New problem...the bodice. So tight to start. Belly distends. Pushes. Stretches.

Ah, ah, ah, god...stop, please stop.

New energy. Buck. Wriggle. Writhe. No stopping.

I told you not to fast. I knew you'd ignore me. You need to eat.

Another. Groan.

Naked and with only water and air; you hold six to eight. Ten once, although you looked pregnant.

Hold on. Concentrate. Humiliation is fine. Desired, even. The dress...though. Oh God, please not the dress...

A third, a fourth and it stops. Eyes screwed shut. Nasal whinge. Constant. So tight. Cramping and so tight.

Please sir.

Body easily ignored before, but so much energy now. Jittery. Getting worse. No more tuning out.

Tiny burning shot. Warmth.

Whisky. To settle you. It will help.

Except that it burns.

Panting. Waiting. Forever.

A finger.

What?

Gooey, sticky. Cake? Cake! Gasp. Richer than energy drink. Fingers inside, forcing. Belly gurgles more. Lump after lump forced past. Try to block me. Useless.

Ridiculous. Giggle. Laugh. Guffa...

SHIT!

Christ! Stop! Please please please!

Control, decorum...self...gone. Nothing now but a dirty little girl.

Thumb pressure. Your training. Focus and stop. Pant.

You're fine. It's only cake and milk...and a strawberry. You missed the McQueen. You haven't eaten in how long?

Four days.

What?

Four days.

Oh, four days. Idiot.

Stopped. In control again. Towel rough up you; then the floor. Tap runs. Wash hands then take you in hand. Wet to start. Soaked after. Panting again.

Release procedure. Thong, eyes, head, belly, ankles, arms. Pull the skirt down and help you off the counter.

Totter. Loubies too high now. Belly tight. Seams tighter. Manageable. Lean into me. Turn and walk you out of the kitchen.

Come on now, girl. We have dinner reservations at Angels and Gypsie.

Stagger, and be steadied. It's a twenty minute walk...

Struggle,
hold,
breathe,
rise,
obey,
hate,
love,
hate,
love.

Stakes.
Gilded.
Baroque.