The only sounds are my breathing, my pounding heart, and her footsteps. I'm kneeling on her hard floor, arms bound tightly with her rope behind me, gagged by her panties and duct-tape, I am left blindfolded as she walks very slowly around me. I can feel her eyes on me. She's already inspected me when I arrived and found my body as she requested with no hair from the neck down... so now I'm starting to worry about what she's thinking. We had agreed to go further this time. We would play with blood and fear and I would trust her to keep me alive and whole no matter what. Well whatever she was thinking up, it's not like I could argue now.
Slowly she walks around me and the *tap-tap-tap* of her boots makes my heart beat louder in my ears.
"Now," I nearly jump out of my skin as she starts to talk, "there's always the question of severity. How much trouble do I want to have to go through to put you back together again? I have the heavy first aid kit here with sutures and proper supplies for stitches if need be... but I'm starting to wonder if I should have brought a drop-cloth down. Oh well, I can always get you to scrub the floors for me."
Grabbing my bound arms and my collar she swiftly lay me face down on the cold cement floor. I could feel every particle of dust under me. It was disgusting, and I was turned on... weird. With a quick *click-click* and she had clipped something to my collar. With a little tug from behind she demonstrated that she had fastened my collar to rings in the floor and I couldn't move my head. Down at my legs she stretched me out. Spreader bar just above my knees and also at my ankles. Both securely tied to the floor in a way that made me feel I was stretching just to reach my collar. I was starting to get really anxious. What could she have planned that would need me to be this still? Then on my lower back and on my thighs I felt wide straps. I couldn't identify it til I heard the ratchet noise as it tightened. Truck straps?! As they tightened into place I realized that the one above and one below my butt made it so I couldn't move at all.
"Much better." she said, "now to get to work." All over my ass and legs she alternated using a belt and a paddle and turned my skin (what felt like) a very bright red... possibly purple. It was strange and painful to not be able to move. Every time I twitched I wound up pulling on one restraint or another. Just as I thought she might never stop, I could feel the heat bouncing back from her hand as she checked on my progress. "Good," she said, "almost there." and went back to beating my burning flesh for another eternity. Eventually she decided that my skin was the proper shade and temperature and reached away for something else.
Suddenly there was a new kind of pain on my thighs. It was sharp and pointy. It took some time to wrap my mind around it but I eventually identified it as a wartenberg wheel. It felt painful on abused skin but I managed to get on top of it mentally. It seems she knew I had just barely adjusted because she took it away and brought out something else. Needles! Oh I knew this feeling and I did not like it. I could never get past two without begging for a change and by my count she's already got four in my arms. I had almost forgotten I had arms with all this attention given to my ass and legs, but I remembered them now. She got six needles in before she stopped. A couple times she jiggled them and I couldn't do anything but moan against the gag.
"Good pet," she whispered in my ear, "now stay still, this next part is very delicate."
Blinding searing pain coursed through my body. WHAT? NO! I could feel her knife gouging into my thigh. That's to deep! That's to large! NO! I couldn't move, I could barely scream against the gag. I could feel the blood oozing out of the cut.
I tried to get a rational grip. This was it, the big finale. It couldn't have been that deep and now she'll stitch me up and we'll laugh about my panic. Right? Right?
OH GOD NOT AGAIN! More pain, more blood, this time from the other thigh. NO!NO!NO! This is not good! I'm going to bleed to death in this cold grimy basement!
I thought about how I trust her, and how I know she cares for me, and how I know if things got out of hand and her first aid wasn't enough, she would call an ambulance because she adores me, and with that thought I surrendered. I barely flinched as the blade cut into my calf and noticing my change she asked, "Are you okay?" I nodded and cried. What kind of stupid question is that? I'm bleeding all over the floor and she asks if I'm okay.
Slowly I realize she's untying me. Spreaders gone, collar unhooked, straps removed, and she's trying to get me to sit up. My legs are cut open and she's trying to get me to sit up. Realizing I'm not co-operating she rolls me sideways, takes out the gag and removes the blindfold. Petting my face she asks, "Why are you resisting?" I start bawling and all I can get out is "Shouldn't you take care of my legs first?"
A look comes across her face, somewhere between humour and compassion. "Lay down pet and I'll tend to your legs." I roll back to my belly and soon I feel a warm wash cloth wiping my legs right over where the cuts should be and... it doesn't sting, it feels... normal.
I twist to look and she smiles, "I knew I couldn't just tell you because you wouldn't believe me... but your skin is not broken, except for those needles in your arms. Now sit up so I can take them out and untie you."
"But... It felt real! How?"
"That's my little secret." She smiled.
I helped her raise me up to my knees still in shock trying to process what happened. The sting of the alcohol on the needle holes took some of the fuzz out of my brain but I knew it would be a while before I was back to normal. Untying my arms she led me to the recovery couch for hot chocolate and snacks.