Tell Me What You Want Ch. 05

"Done."

She slid the phone into its tiny pocket, the rectangle standing out against the skin-tight material of her activewear. There was a single low buzz, and Bea smiled.

"Seems like Lotte's awake still. I think she liked seeing you all shackled and at my mercy."

Hector took a step back from the shelving, but the chain snapped taut. He looked from the anchor point on the shelving to the mattress on the floor, and then back to Bea.

"Problem, slave?" Bea mocked.

Hector scowled at her, infuriated by her condescending tone.

"Something you want to say?"

Hector nodded frantically.

"But it's unlikely to be something I need to waste my time with," she replied, turning to leave.

Hector rattled his chain again, tugging hard. He'd done a good job with the shelving, bolting it to the garage wall when he'd set it up. It wasn't moving, and the chain was too strong. In desperation, he scanned the garage, realising what Bea had done to him.

The chain was too short. He could take half a step back from the shelves, but there wasn't enough slack to reach the mattress. He tugged furiously at the chain, heaving mightily against his constraints, rattling the chain loudly against the metal shelves.

"Calm down."

Bea's tone was even, patient. She stood at the doorway, waiting for him to tire himself out.

"You might damage something. You're certainly about to earn yourself a reprimand."

Hector glared at her, gritting his teeth. Slowly, deliberately, he shook his head. Bea had to understand that she couldn't leave him chained up like this, unable to lie down, barely able to move at all. He was struggling to comprehend how his friend had found the determination to torture him like this.

"Good boy. Quiet. Now you've got all that out of your system, you've figured out you're going nowhere. Poor little slave, if only you could reach any of those keys. They're so close, but just out of reach. If you got any one of them, you could get free, but I guess so near, so far."

She reached up to the light switch, watching as Hector fumed impotently against his imprisonment by her. Hector had to get her to see reason.

"Rainbow," he growled.

"Rainbow? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, fucking rainbow, Bea."

"Oh."

Bea didn't move.

"Are you in pain, slave?"

"I'm Heck. I said rainbow."

She studied his expression for a moment, then frowned.

"I want to know why you used your safeword. If it's something frivolous, the punishment is going to be severe."

"Why have you tied me up like this?" Hector grunted, ignoring her threats.

"Don't you remember? You made a number of errors, both with me and earlier with your mistress," Bea replied, beginning to tick items off on her fingers, "Disrespect, insubordination, presumption, unauthorised entry into the bedroom."

She paused, her thumb poised against the last finger. She gave Hector a strange look.

"Attempted temptation."

"Wait, Bea, hold on. That was me offering to serve you. I was just trying to be a... uh... a good slave for you."

"Bullshit. Your cock was straining fit to burst. You ogled me and practically came on the spot as you said it. Ugh," Bea shivered, "You've been pointing that thing at me all night."

She stabbed out an accusing finger, but Hector didn't have to look down to see what she was pointing at. He could feel how completely rigid he was, yet again. Being locked up by Bea, finding himself stripped of any power, any leverage in this situation, and then belittled, had made him hard again.

"You just can't help yourself. That's why you're chained to the shelves like a beast, because that's how you're behaving."

Her eyes flashed and he could hear the anger in her tone. He'd really upset her, touching on something way beyond the power dynamics of owner and owned, unfamiliar territory between them. He regretted offering to give her service. It had tripped a wire in her head. He didn't understand any of it, but nonetheless, he was reaping the consequences.

"Sorry, Bea, I was out of line."

"Ma'am."

"Please, don't say that. We need to talk."

Bea didn't reply. She stood at the door, staring at him. Hector felt his erection wither beneath her gaze. Bea stalked over to him, coming up close. Hector waited to hear what she had to say.

"Why are you being so cruel to me?" Hector asked her, "Aren't we friends?"

"I'm not your friend, I'm your trainer, slave. I don't have to be nice to you. In fact, the purpose of this weekend is for you to understand what your life is now. You obey, or there are consequences. We will talk about it at some point, but I'm not going into it all now."

"But...."

"You need to understand that you are here to be trained as a slave, and I'm here to train you. Your wife has given you to me for the weekend to whip you into shape and I intend to do that. I very much want to do that. Lotte's right, I should have listened to her years ago."

Her eyes glinted dangerously, the unexplained ire still burning there.

"I know you want this too. You understand what I'm going to do to you, don't you? You get why I've chained you up like this. You need to accept your punishment and learn from your mistakes. You have this unfortunate habit of believing it's all about you, even this. You think it's all some sexy slave fantasy, that you'd spend your weekend between Lotte's legs, or even mine, in some submissive paradise."

Bea put her hands on her hips, leaning closer, until her face was almost touching his. Hector looked down into her brown eyes, feeling the draught of her breath against his bare skin. He felt an unreasoning urge to simply kiss her, imagining her pressing her body against his, shedding her loose top and feeling the delicious heat of skin against skin.

"See?" she hissed, "You're doing it again, aren't you? I can see it in your face. Or are you going to deny it?"

She waited for Hector to answer, but his mouth remained shut.

"Lotte isn't playing, so therefore I'm not playing. We're going to turn you into a proper slave, as per the contract. You're going to learn the true meaning of service. That starts now. So, answer me, are you in physical distress?"

Hector swallowed hard. "No," he confessed.

"Is this psychologically traumatic for you?"

Hector shook his head slowly.

"Did you safeword just because you didn't agree with your punishment?"

Hector nodded.

"I need to hear you confess."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I used my safeword inappropriately because I didn't like what you were doing."

"And not liking is not the same as being unable to bear it, is it? A slave must accept that it will be ordered to do things it doesn't like just to please its owner."

"Yes, Ma'am, you're right."

"So, do you want me to unlock you? I can call Lotte. She can be here in half an hour to take you home. You can sleep in your own bed tonight next to your wife instead of chained up in my garage. We can tear up the contract and all go back to how we were."

Bea fixed him with a stare. Hector discovered that he was trembling. Just a single word was all that was required for this to be over. He could be curled up in his own bed next to Lotte within the hour. It was that simple. All he had to do was assert control of the situation.

"Isn't this what you expected?" Bea asked. "I read the stories that you sent Lotte. She talked about them to you, remember? Do you remember that?"

"I...."

"The one where the slave was chained up in the basement for the weekend? Remember that one? He got put in a dog cage. Remember what you said about it to Lotte?"

"Look, please...."

"What did you say about it?"

Hector's face coloured with shame, unable to meet Bea's gaze anymore. "I said it was hot."

"And what was hot about it?"

"That...," Hector muttered, "That he was restrained and shut away like that."

"Look at me."

Hector's eyes met hers again, automatically. He tried to read her face, but she was unyielding.

"I don't have a basement, but I have this. I have chains, and padlocks. I don't have a dog cage, but I've got a garage. Isn't this your fantasy?"

Hector blinked, but didn't say a word.

"I mean it. Isn't this everything you wanted?"

She was glaring at him now.

"I meant it," she continued. "You safeword and I unlock you and we go back to how we all were. This isn't a threat to withdraw everything, like it's an all-or-nothing choice. It's about you, it's about what you really want. You want to play bedroom games with collars and handcuffs, then you and Lotte should have talked about that fucking months ago. But if you wanted what you asked for, then I'm here to see that through."

Bea shrugged in exasperation.

"I'm trying to help you through this. It's finally sinking in, isn't it, what you signed up for?"

Hector nodded.

"And it's going to be hard to adjust, and it's only going to happen if you meet me halfway. I want to shape you. I want to turn you into a slave, to let you be the things you said you wanted to be. But, I'm giving you the choice, and it's the last one you get because either you're Lotte's problem in half an hour, or you're my slave for the entire weekend. Do you want me to ignore the safeword, or do I call Lotte to collect you?"

He started at Bea, eyes wide. Her demeanour had cooled, the ire turning into something more aloof and implacable. He understood, at last. They were operating from a run sheet that had been built up from his fantasies. He had shared it all with Lotte, asking for what he wanted, but his wife had seen past that to something much larger. Now Bea was giving him one last chance to call it off. If he stayed after this, she would have full control of him. He drew in a breath and gave her his answer.

"No, ma'am. That won't be necessary," he gasped.

"Good," Bea murmured, "Good boy. However, there are now consequences. I was going to go get ready for bed, maybe watch a show, then come back and let out enough slack to let you sleep on the mattress. But, thanks to what you just did, I'm not going to do that now. You're going to remain chained upright like this until the morning. Is there anything you need before I leave you like this?"

Hector grimaced, summoning up the courage to ask one last humiliating question.

"Please, Ma'am, what happens if I need to go to the toilet?"

"Let me help you there," Bea replied.

She left the garage, returning a minute later with a pint glass and what looked like a key fob. She held the fob up, showing him a red button, and put it down on the shelf in front of him.

"Press in emergency only. If you wake me up because you're just feeling sorry for yourself, there will be further consequences. Oh, and this."

She showed him the pint glass and then placed it on a lower shelf.

"Aim carefully, slave. If you so much as spill a drop, I'll make you lick it up. Don't think I would? Really want to find out? Okay, now, silence. Let me see you take your punishment."

Bea walked back to the door, giving him an indecipherable look over her shoulder. She flicked off the light and closed the door, plunging Hector into darkness. He leaned against the shelves, his head resting against the cold steel, his stomach growling and empty, unsated by the scraps, and a faint yet insistent pressure growing in his bladder. It was going to be a very long night.

---

The light crept in slowly, the tiny slit windows that ran along to top of the shelves turning from black to a washed-out grey. Shapes in the room gradually resolved themselves: the toolbox, the lighter-coloured square of the camping mattress on the grey concrete floor. In reality, it was a relief, knowing that the day was dawning and that he didn't have to try to find sleep anymore.

Hector was slumped over the shelf, his torso on the unyielding metal surface, his arms folded in front of him with his hands still locked to the front of his collar, his cheek resting on a wrist cuff. He'd been able to steal brief moments, dozing off as he let the shelf support him, but then rousing quickly as the edge cut into his stomach, forcing him to stand again.

His only solace had been to drag the mattress up against the bottom of the shelves with his foot so at least he was standing on something spongy instead of the cold concrete. The temperature had dropped overnight and he was cold. With the cold came another issue. Hector had been struggling with it all night, along with the constant need to shift position as one part of his body or another began to feel uncomfortable: he really needed to piss.

His plan had been to hold it in and wait for Bea to come and unlock him. He could make it to the toilet that was just a few metres away, through the laundry. He found himself visualising it, standing over the bowl and finally, gratifyingly relieving himself. In his sleep-deprived brain, he caught himself standing over the toilet, relaxing his bladder, ready to....

He clenched hard, trying to dispel the fog in his head. He'd nearly just let himself go, all over the shelving. That would have been catastrophic. Bea would have punished him severely. But the fullness of his bladder was becoming insistent, forcing him to tense against the urgent waves of desperation. He waited; the tiny strip windows became lighter, a new day beginning.

Bea didn't arrive. She was probably sound asleep, wrapped up snugly in her warm, soft bed. He began to fantasise about how that would feel, lying in the sheets. If it had been him in the bed, he wouldn't get up, he'd stay there all morning. Maybe that was Bea's intention too. His bladder contracted again and he bent over as best as he could. She might be hours yet.

Carefully, Hector bent his knees, spreading them wide, lowering the tip of his manhood to the edge of the pint glass. With infinite care, he relaxed just a little, feeling a trickle of hot, steaming piss dribble into the waiting glass.

Hector took his time, clenching again to stem the flow and then relaxing, taking it bit by bit until he could finally relax at last, letting the last of the liquid out of his bladder. The relief was exquisite. Renewed by his release from discomfort, he settled back onto his arms and tried to doze a little more again.

The light brightened into day. Hector marched on the spot to keep himself warm and get the blood flowing, abandoning any hope of sleep. His entire body protested, but he'd done it. He'd made it through the night. As his faculties awakened, though, he considered the reason why he was aching.

Bea had done this to him, and for no other reason than because she could. His petite friend had decided his guilt and then his punishment, inventing an uncomfortable way for Hector to have to spend his night. Not for the first time, he was forced to contemplate the change that had come over her.

She was displaying hidden desires to torment and humiliate that he'd never suspected she harboured. He was at her mercy for two more days; what else did she have planned for him? What other stories had he passed Lotte, for his wife to decide to act out? He had been wracking his brains all night, going through each little detail and wondering whether the next few days held it in store for him.

Then, his thoughts had turned from the unknown trials awaiting him to the dread of considering having to face Bea in the office on Monday morning, in her usual outfit, smiling innocently, no trace of the devious tormentor she'd been all weekend. The only safeguard he had was his wife's promise that he wouldn't be humiliated at work, but he suspected now that he had missed the fine print: she wasn't going to humiliate him in public, in front of his co-workers. She had said nothing about extending her reach into his workday covertly, through Bea.

He heard movement, somewhere in the rest of the house, the creak of the stairs. Then there was the distant hiss of coffee being made, the clattering of cupboard doors. Hector waited patiently for Bea to come and find him, but after a while he heard the creak of the stairs again as Bea went back to bed. Forgotten, dejected and ravenous after having only been fed scraps, Hector slumped back down onto the shelf again. The time dragged by.

"Good sleep?"

Hector's head jerked up, banging on the shelf above; the chain rattled noisily. He'd zoned out again, letting the bone-weariness claim him. He spun around to track the source of the voice.

Bea was standing in the doorway in a sleep camisole and fluffy slippers. She was grinning at him. Befuddled, he couldn't remember whether he was allowed to answer or not, so he opted for a sullen silence.

"The slave is properly deferential this morning. That's a sign of a better day ahead."

Bea approached him, picking up one of the keys from its place on the shelf. She unlocked the padlock that had secured the chain to the shelving, letting the full length run through her fingers and onto the garage floor. She bent down and busied herself at his feet, threading the end of the chain through the D-rings set into each ankle cuff.

"See? I knew you could do it," she said, giving him a little smile that lifted his spirits. "I'm proud of you."

He watched her, and through the fog of his jumbled thoughts, he was aware of her body just beneath him, dressed in a thin camisole that reached down as far as her mid thighs. Crouched down between his legs, the camisole rode up higher, exposing her trim legs. He caught a glimpse of her modest breasts as he looked down her top, and despite his tiredness, his manhood began to stir. Bea looked up. She saw it too.

"Enjoying the view? You're just insatiable. I'd have thought a night on the shelves would have broken you of that by now."

She stood up and moved to the shelving, picking up a mysterious little box.

"Your mistress planned for everything. I need you to not make a fuss over this. I know you can do it."

Bea made a show of breaking the seal on the box and removing the lid. She pulled out an object about the size of her palm, flattened like a disk and transparent plastic.

"I'm going to have to neuter you. Seems it's the only way to get your attention."

She tugged on the plastic shape and it hinged, opening into two halves. Hector's fatigued mind struggled to comprehend its purpose until she brought it up to his crotch.

"Hold very still. You do not want me to trap any skin."

Bea worked quickly, her fingers teasing his balls into each half of the plastic device. Hector shuddered at the way she manipulated his genitals. She began to close it up, pressing his awakening cock into one half then bringing the two parts together. She had a tool in her hand, like a little screwdriver with an unusual tip, and twisted it in a tiny barrel that nestled on the top of the device. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork.

"Perfect," she announced, "It's like you have a little kid penis."

Hector looked down at himself, amazed at her transformation of his manhood.

Between his legs there should have been a rapidly-stiffening erection, but instead, as if cast in plastic, there was a set of balls and a tiny cock. The device compressed it, forcing his manhood to remain bowed and shrivelled, unable to expand at all. He squirmed, feeling the alien weight of it between his legs, gaping at what she'd done to him.

"No more unsightly erections. Oh, and there's one more thing. I see you already went this morning, so you won't mind this."

There was one more part to the device. She held up a tiny stainless steel bolt with a ring set in the end. It was thin and maybe an inch long. His brain was struggling feverishly to comprehend what was happening to him.

Bea pushed the end of the bolt into a little circular hole in the device situated directly over the tip of his cock. She began to screw the bolt in and he felt a strange friction against his piss hole. Hector jerked backwards, but Bea gripped the device, holding him in place.