Tuesday

'Usually with a lot of tears and gritted teeth.' He says calmly. You look at him with irritation and realize that he's not being sarcastic.

He returns your gaze then shakes his head.

'What are you doing here anyways girl?' He asks calmly with a bored look on his face..

You don't know how to answer that, so you turn away from him and keep looking around.

You run your fingers over a cage that seems too tiny to hold someone. It looks cramped and confining and terrifying. You feel yourself getting damp as you caress the cold metal.

There's a gynaecological table in the corner. At least you think it's a gynaecological table, if there are gynaecologists in hell.

You continue to wander through the room, touching things that you've both dreamed of and never conceived of with trembling fingers. The man that let you in the room stands by the door and watches you with a bored look.

You find your words again as you pass in front of a large wooden 'X' complete with manacles on chains.

'Do you... play back here?' You ask him. Your voice cracks a little. You can feel your pulse beating in your neck, pounding out a rhythm of fear and lust.

'Of course I do. I own the bar.'

'Who do you play with?'

'Whoever the fuck I want to.' There's that growl again.

You run your hand over a manacle dangling from the wooden X and look back at him.

You know what you want. You do. You're just afraid to take that next step.

He takes it from you. Calmly he strides forward and firmly pulls the manacle out of your hand. He towers over you, his six foot plus frame nearly a full foot taller than you are. You stare up at him and are frozen, like a rabbit looking at a wolf.

'Do you want to play with me girl?' He asks you. As he does so, he clicks the latch on the manacle and it pops open. He closes it with a click, then pops the latch and it creaks open yet again.

You open your mouth but are oddly unable to speak. You carefully nod.

He glares at you then leans over and takes your chin between his fingers and looks you directly in the eye.

'Use your words little girl. I want to hear you say it.'

Your mouth is incredibly dry all of a sudden. You swallow and lick your lips. Then you say the words that commit you to everything you want and everything that terrifies you at the same time.

'I want to play with you.'

'Are you sure?' He says calmly. You watch fascinated as he slides the manacle over your wrist and locks it in place.

'I'm sure.' You whisper.

The manacle clicks shut on your other wrist. The chains draw tight against the cross and you are forced to back up until your arms are drawn high over your head and held in placed and your back is against the cross.

You swear you can hear your heart pounding. His hand grips your chin again and he turns your face left and then right and you get the sensation that he's measuring you again. He purses his lips, then nods and turns back to the door and walks out for a moment.

'Where are you going?' You shout after him. You suddenly feel frightened.

There's no response, but you see the lights flicker and shut off out front and then he walks through the door and back to you. He gives the door a light shove and the hinges creak as it slowly closes and then slams shut. The locks snap in place with a sense of finality.

What the fuck are you doing?

You feel panic rise up in you as the man approaches you again. This was a bad decision.

The man stands in front of you and runs his hand over his chin, deep in thought, then he inhales and speaks to you.

'Right. Here is how it is.'

You listen intently.

'I don't give a fuck about what you need or want. We do what I want to do. I'm not interested in your dreams or your limits. I play hard, I'm a mean bastard and I'm not here to negotiate or deal with your bullshit.'

His words are harsh but measured. He's said this before.

'We're not going to be a couple. If you're lucky I'll claim you as property. If you're too much of a pain in the ass I'll toss you aside like garbage.'

He steps forward and his hands grip the waist of your jeans and he pops open your pants. You squeal as you feel him shove the cloth down your legs. A moment later your black panties are around your knees as well.

'My name is Padraic, and if you're looking for me you can ask for that name. If you ever call me anything other than 'Master' or 'Sir' I'll punish you.'

'Ok Padraic.' You respond snarkily.

He cocks his head and looks at you with disbelief. You don't know why you did it, but you did.

'All right, clearly we need to set the tone.' Padraic says calmly.

CRACK.

You reel. Your cheek burns. He slapped you!

CRACK! CRACK!

Your head spins and you see stars. This hurts! You feel him gripping your long hair and he jerks your head up and then his hand slaps your face back and forth again and again.

CRACK! CRACK! SMACK! *CRRAACCKK*!!

The last one leaves your ears ringing. Tears well up in your eyes and you can feel the coppery taste of blood in your mouth.

'Now, go ahead and say my name again. I fucking well dare you.' He growls in your ear.

You gasp oxygen and sniff. It's hard not to burst into tears after that.

But you keep it together and shake your head.

'No thank you sir... I... I'm sorry.'

He snorts again. Clearly that was the right answer this time.

'Shall we continue?' He whispers into your ear. It's oddly intimate and strangely intimidating at the same time.

'Yes sir.' You mumble.

'Good. I'm glad we got that straightened out.'

His hands grab your t-shirt and he roughly pulls the front up and over your head, leaving your arms trapped but your breasts contained in your black bra. They're only contained for a moment though, because he reaches inside the lacy cups and pulls first one breast free then the other.

And then you're completely exposed to him.

He steps back and studies your body. He leans forward and runs a finger across your skin. His relentless touch explores your skin, leaving no scar or blemish unexamined. He runs it lightly across line on your stomach and asks you a casual yet degrading question.

'You've been bred?'

You shudder at that harsh word for what you went through. But you know better than to not answer him. Your cheeks still feel fiery from your last insolent moment.

'Yes sir.'

'Good. Breeders have higher pain tolerance.'

That frightens you a little.

He reaches forward and tugs on your pubic hair.

'This had better be gone the next time I see you.'

You nod your head.

'If I see you again.' He says casually.

'You will sir.' That popped out of your mouth fast.

'Yeah, yeah... we'll see.' He says with apathy.

He calmly raises a foot and places it on the crotch of the panties and jeans around your knees and pushes them down to the floor. He bends over and pulls the jeans off your feet and plucks out the black panties. You feel his hand running along the inside of your thigh as he straightens up and abruptly you feel his fingers between your legs and the lips of your sex.

Your jaw drops and you gasp at the rough violation. First one finger, then two slide inside you and probe your astonishingly wet sex. You chest heaves as he casually twists his fingers around inside you and then slowly withdraws his fingers. They deliberately drag across your clitoris. Your body shudders involuntarily at the intense and all too brief sensation.

'Wow, you are one wet little bitch.' He says casually as he looks at the slickness on his fingers.

You cheeks flush with heat again, not from a slap this time, but from him stating the obvious truth. A few slaps, your hands restrained and your clothes pulled away and you are so inflamed with lust you're astonished that your need isn't dripping down your thighs.

He leans forward and wipes his fingers under your nostrils, literally rubbing your nose in it. You cringe at this bitterly personal humiliation as he paints your face with your own lust.

His head dips down, and he whispers huskily in your ear.

'You want it don't you whore?'

Even his words have impact. He degrades you so casually it's unnerving. You never felt less in control in your entire life than you do now. He's so casually vicious that you're concerned that you just let a serial killer lock you up in a private back room. Nobody even knows that you're here.

'Y... yes sir.' You stammer. His hand slides down your body, tweaking a nipple as it does. It drifts down your belly and cups your sex, his fingers spreading your lips open again as you realize that you are subconsciously spreading your legs wide apart for him.

His fingers drift in and out of you, dipping into the silky wetness inside you and coaxing desperate, needy squeals from your lips. You buck your hips and bite your lip as he toys with your flesh. You feel it growing inside you, building like a fire and getting hotter.

And suddenly he's no longer inside of you. His hand travels up to your face and he seizes your hair firmly and tilts your head back. You groan at the forceful grip and at disappointment for what he stoked in you and is now diminishing.

'Did you actually think I was going to fuck you cunt?'

'Yes... yes sir. Please don't stop.' You whimper at him.

'You haven't earned my cock you little fuckpuppet. It's not that easy.'

'No sir. It's not.' You whisper and resist the urge to grind your hips against him.

'I think I want to play with you now cunt, you don't mind do you?' He asks.

'No sir. Please play with me.' You whisper at him again, certain your words are literally dripping with lust.

You feel something rough slide inside you and you squeal. His fingers tuck it into your dark place and then slowly pull it out. He casually holds it up in front of your face and smiles at you as you stare at the now damp and slick panties you casually put on a few hours ago.

'Open your mouth whore.' He orders, and you cringe. This is awful.

Your hesitation irritates him, and his strong hand seizes your nipple and gives it a vicious twist. You yelp loudly and he takes that moment to cram the damp panties dipped into your lust into your mouth. You squirm on the wooden X as he jams them deep into your mouth so that you can't shove them out with your tongue.

You stand there for a moment and gag on the salty fabric jammed against the back of your throat and don't realize that he walked away from you again. You see him digging through a small closet and he pulls out a couple of items and sets them on a table.

There's a long, thick strap of some sort, a small, black plastic device and a roll of black tape. You've already guessed what the tape is for even before he starts tearing off strips and securing the sodden intimates in your mouth. The electrician's tape he uses is rubbery and clings to your skin and hair in an unpleasant way. He finishes off by pressing a strand of the thick, black adhesive against your mouth and then wrapping it around your mouth several times.

When he's secured it firmly, he turns your face left and right and nods when he's sure that you can't expel the fabric from your mouth and you can breathe easily through your nose.

You know this for fact when he casually pinches your nose shut with his fingers and holds it until you start to thrash futilely on the cross and you face starts to turn red. He deliberately keeps you from breathing until your vision starts to spin and you feel like you're on the verge of blacking out.

He waits until you've nearly fully lost conciousness and then releases your nose. You snort air desperately; grateful that he finally let you have oxygen. As you suck air through your nostrils you feel something hard lock around both your ankles.

It doesn't impede your breathing as you slump against the huge wooden X, so you really don't care.

You care more a moment later as he pulls on a chain and a pulley system suddenly yanks your ankles into the air until you hang from both sets of chains with your legs spread wide. He walks back around in front of you and your recent oxygen deprivation and the humiliation of having him gag you with your own damp panties has made you less aroused and more afraid of him.

It seems like he knows that. His eyes get a little more feral as he studies you.

He picks up the black plastic device from the table and holds it up.

'Do you know what this is cunt?' He asks calmly.

You shake your head negatively. You don't recognize it.

He presses a button on the device and blue sparks shoot and crackle from little metal prongs. A buzzing hiss fills the room and when he flips the switch again to turn it off you smell ozone.

'Now do you know what it is whore?'

Fearfully, you nod your head. It's a small cattle prod of some kind.

You feel flushed, like you want to throw up. You don't know if you can take that if he uses it on you. He walks toward you and you begin to tremble like a leaf. You start to whine through the panties taped into your mouth as you feel him spread your lips wide and then you shrilly scream as you feel the hard plastic scraping against the walls of your vagina as he forces it inside you.

It takes about ninety seconds for him to violate you with it. It feels like it takes an hour. Once it is inserted, you can't believe how raw and abraded you feel at the painful penetration.

He gives it a little tug and it slides out a little accompanied by a loud complaint from you as it scratches you yet again.

Satisfied, he goes to the table and picks up the heavy leather strap. He smirks at you yet again and taps it against the palm of his hand. He swings it to get a couple of loud cracks to intimidate you with it and the last one is too hard. A loud CRACK fills the room and he abruptly starts shaking his hand and cursing.

'Fuck!' He roars, still trying to shake the sting out of his fingers.

It's amusing for a nanosecond until you realize that just slapping it on his hand stung badly enough for him to lose his composure in front of you. How will that feel on your skin?

Still muttering to himself, he picks up the strap that he dropped when he accidentally punished his own hand and glares at you.

'Was that funny whore?'

No. Absolutely not. You vigorously shake your head.

He glares at you for a second. Then he sighs.

'Hmmf. I think the moment is lost. Is it lost fucktoy?'

You really want to tell him yes. You shake your head no. That raises his eyebrows.

Why did you do that?

He stares at you with hard eyes. You're uncertain if you fucked up or not. Does he think you were mocking him?

Was there even a right answer there?

Why are you so fucking aroused when you should be completely terrified?

He walks around to your side and sets the strap on your stomach where it lies in silent threat. His hand slides around the back of your neck and grips the long dark brown strands of your hair. He leans in and looks directly into your face.

'Are you telling me you want to keep going girl?'

Carefully, you shrug your shoulders.

'You know I'm about to beat you, right?'

You nod.

'And you want to keep going?'

You nod again. A quiet part of you notes that he's dropped the demeaning insults. You have his full attention.

You can see his mind spin, twist, evaluate. He's measuring you again.

'You're interesting.'

You see the gears shifting behind his eyes. His hand slips up your ribcage and squeezes your right breast roughly.

You moan a little bit. Your body still throbs with need, despite, or possibly because of the disturbing things he's done to you. His hand slides down your stomach, across the little strip of pubic hair that you maintain and taps on the end of the little black box he shoved inside you.

You squeal. He slides a finger over the button and you plead with your eyes.

The wicked grin returns. He presses the button.

You don't quite remember what happens after that. After the stars leave your vision you realize that you're still hanging limply from the same chains. There's an acrid smell in the room now and your vagina feels incredibly tender. Your stomach twitches and you suddenly realize that the bastard pressed the trigger on the cattle prod and shocked your insides with it.

You can't feel it shoved inside you now. Apparently you either squeezed it out when your body was gripped with spasms or Padraic pulled the cruel little device out of you after you zoned out from the sudden surge of pain.

'Welcome back.' Padraic says as he eyes you. You feel him unwinding the tape around your head and slowly he peels it away from your face until the last sticky strand pulls away. You feel his fingers reach into your mouth and he calmly, slowly pulls your soaked, sodden panties from your mouth.

'Nggghh....' You whimper. The undergarment drops from his fingers and hits the floor with a splat.

You think he's being gentle, but then you realize that he's lowered the chains you're suspended from to about waist height and he's now pulling his manhood out.

'Oh god.' You moan.

'Do I need to tell you what to do?' He asks.

You shake your head no and open your mouth. He slides between your lips and you spend ten long, awkward minutes servicing him with your mouth and your tongue until he grunts and fills your mouth with hot, thick semen.

He holds you there for a minute and then releases your hair and pulls away. You gasp, and cough and thick white ropes spray from your mouth and drip down your chin.

You expect to be punished for that, but he doesn't say anything to you. He merely steps behind the large wooden X and pulls a lever.

You abruptly drop three feet with a choking wail and smack into the floor. Your rear takes the majority of the impact and you lie on your side and rub your aching behind. You continue to rub for a moment and then he returns from the rear of the large bondage rack and crouches down to look at you.

You look up at him with anger. He's been so cruel to you. His behaviour is borderline sociopathic. He's bound you, violated you, tortured you, humiliated you and used your body for his own satisfaction while ignoring both your own pain and pleasure.

None of those things explain the vague feeling of disappointment you have that you seem to be done for the evening.

'Put yourself back together and get dressed. There's a washroom out front if you want to wipe the come off your chin.' He tells you flatly.

Then he walks away from you, unlocks the heavy door that let you both in here and strides back out front.

Feeling groggy, weary, overwhelmed and being filled with a sense of deep, lingering arousal makes gathering up your scattered clothing harder than it should be. Your shoes were kicked off to one side. You panties still lay in a wet lump on the floor. Your jeans are draped over a... something. It's wooden and there are circles and slots and locks and you have no idea what it is.

It's a bondage pants hanger at the moment. You pull them down and look around for your t-shirt for a minute or two then realize that he never pulled it off you; he just jerked it up over your head.

Your brain is still so overwhelmed you clearly can't process things just yet. You slide your breasts back into the cups of your bra and move to pull the black t-shirt down over your face but you realize that his seed is still plastered all over your chin and cheeks.

You fret for a moment then decide to go and take him up on his offer to use the bathroom. You contemplate your panties, but they're slimy with your saliva and you can't bring yourself to pick up the cold, wet lump of what used to be a surprisingly sexy undergarment.

Quietly you pad out the door to the main bar. Padraic is running a count on the till and washing a few glasses. Another pint glass of beer sits next to him on the bar as he runs numbers through the machine and ignores you.