Pretty as a Picture

He watches the look of submission completely take over her features and the flash of giving up move across her eyes. At last, he thinks to himself, at last she is mine. She fights, she argues, she drives me to distraction. And now she realizes it is all because true freedom comes from having fought for it. He begins to feel his own excitement grow as he realizes what a hurdle they have crossed, that maybe now she will understand that, even while she may not understand what he does or why he does it, it is always, always for her growth and pleasure. And his pleasure comes from teaching her this hard-earned lesson.

It takes just a few seconds for the coldness to seep into her intestines and begin to make her extremely uncomfortable, adding to the extreme urgency she now feels for a pee. His fingers still working her sopping wet cunt, sliding in and out in a quickened rhythm, she feels the first stirrings of an orgasm. The tiny contractions in her vagina, the "pushing" feeling she wants to use on his cock instead of his fingers. "Not yet, Angel. I need you to listen to me, my beauty," he tells her, as he slowly withdraws his fingers from her. Her breath comes in short pants now, and she does her best to focus her attention on what he is saying.

Rubbing her skin softly at her ankles, he unbuckles the chain from the cuffs on one leg, then does the same with the other leg. He reaches into his coat pocket and removes a medium-size vibrator. Showing it to her, he switches a few buttons on the end. It does not go on, and he teases her sex with it, finally sliding it in before bringing her legs together and attaching them tightly to the thigh and ankle cuffs in a way that leaves the skirt covering her pulled-together legs. He carefully picks up the scalpel he used earlier, nicking at the fabric of the waistband and letting the back of her skirt fall to the floor. When he moves his hand, the front falls as well, snagging on the chain, and he rips it off, dropping it beneath her feet with the other piece.

"Are you paying attention, Angel?" he asks. She nods, "Yes, Sir, I am."

"Good. Now, the way I see it is this. You are almost entirely full for me. Your belly is full, your ass is full, and your hot wet pussy is now full. He stops then, glancing at her absentmindedly, and says, "Oh. I forgot to tell you ... the hotdog in your ass was rolled in a box of suppositories and bits of sliced ginger root before being refrozen." At nearly the same instant, she begins to feel her bowels rumble and make an ominous sound, and she looks at him and can't help the tears that roll down her cheeks. "Sir, please, I beg you again to reconsider. You have me now, Sir. I am yours to do with as you wish. Why must it be this way? This harsh? I know I need punishment, but this seems so wrong." Her voice become pleading, and snot joins the tears rolling down her face and dripping onto her breasts.

Ignoring her please, he sayd, "That vibrator is set to vibrate for ten minutes every hour, on the hour," then leans over to kiss her belly. "You are here because you want to be here, is that true? Because you wish to please me?" Unable to control her shivering now, she makes every effort to hold her bladder and her bowels, but can feel that she will soon lose this battle as well. "Yes, Sir, that is true," she whispers, very softly where he can barely hear it.

"Good. Then what will please me will be knowing that you are here in the dark, that for me, you are going to simply let your body do what it wishes. It is I that has control of your body tonight, girl. It is I that will make it cum, make it relieve itself, make it scream or cry. You have little say in it; well, actually, you have no say in it." And then, as if to emphasize his last statement, he turns glittering eyes to her and says, "I have one last surprise for you, my dear," and with that, he reaches into his pocked and pulls out a brand new ring gag. "These are my favorite, for obvious reasons," he snickers, attaching the gag to her head and mouth and then smiling up at her again. "My but I do enjoy seeing you with you mouth open but no words coming out of it sometimes. A beautiful sight."

It must seem to him a fitting punishment, this complete loss of control over any of her bodily functions, but she had yet to feel good about it. Even knowing that he would enjoy seeing her like this, in this condition, drool dripping constantly from her mouth, her body covered in her own saliva, piss and excrement, a sign that she had no control whatsoever over her body at this moment ... even that thought did not help her find a way to handle the degradation and deprivation she felt as she hung limply here on the wall like some sacrificial offering to his ego. Her mind did, indeed, have far to go to make any sort of sense out of it.

She tried now, as the vibrator had it's hourly 10-minute affair with her dripping wet cunt, to imagine his pleasure at having such control over her. She understood the pleasure derived from the various sexual perversions he often enjoyed visiting upon her body ... the penetration with foreign objects, the use of various forms of sensory deprivation (blindfolds, gags, etc.), even the way he made her clean his cock after each ejaculation of his hot seed into some part of her body ... these things seemed almost ordinary to her now. Because they were usually done with such love and with at least a thought that some of them might bring her pleasure, too.

But this felt like too far. As if she had crossed over into complete darkness and maybe something even more sinister. No matter his explanations for it, the actual loss of bowel and bladder control made her feel like she was less than human, almost less than animal, for even they had control over their bodily functions.

She feels it inside her ... this void ... like a promise waiting to be kept. The emptiness waiting to be filled with his light. She is weak now from it all. Tired. Aching, Disoriented. Dehydrated. And almost completely numb. Her arms and legs still ache occasionally, but for the most part, she doesn't even feel them anymore.

If he wanted her pride, he now had it. Her bodily fluids, splattered and smeared from her neck to her toes and still dripping occasionally onto the plastic dropcloth he had placed beneath her, had been driven out of her. Her pride was no different. It had been expunged. There was a sort of hollowness where it should have been. An emptiness. One she hoped to fill again with pride in being his perfect girl. In doing everything he asked of her. Being all that he wanted and needed. Maybe in this way she could begin to fill the gaping wound left by this complete loss of control over her own body. Maybe one day she would begin to understand the thoughts that drove him to this in the first place. Until then she would remain hurt and confused by it.

And who in their right mind would allow another human being to treat them this way? He must have a special kind of contempt for her, despite all his protestations to the contrary. How could degrading her in such a way make him proud of her? It didn't make sense in any kind of logical way, but it wasn't the first time she had not understood a lesson he meant to teach her, and she was sure it would not be the last.