You and I Gonna Have a Little Chat

He comes home at the usual time from work.

I'm up on my knees on the mattress, legs apart, hands clasped behind my head, ready for him when he opens the door to the room. Stark bollock, just the way he wants it. I do this as soon as I hear the front door. But it's not his habit in the afternoon to come straight in and use me. I hear the toilet flush, then the shower, then noises from his bedroom, then the kettle boiling, and the telly goes on for a bit.

It's all as usual, even though I know he's pissed off. I know from how he left the room last night. He had thrown me against the wall, slamming the door hard behind him, left in the dark.

Then he went to work this morning. He never opened the door to the room and he never got his cock serviced like he usually does.

Home from work now, he hasn't come in. All I can do is wait now, kneeling, stark bollock, listening to him move, waiting for his mood to hit me.

An hour or maybe more passes. The telly goes off. It's quiet for a while. I think he might be sitting on the couch, brooding, thinking. Then he makes his move.

The door opens, slowly and deliberately. He stops in the doorway. My head is bowed down, but I can see he's in his tracksuit. I focus on his hands at his side, waiting for them to move towards me.

But he just stands there silently, for a good, long while. I feel sweat dripping from my armpits. When he's like this, I know it's going to be bad, difficult. It's going to last a while. He's angry, and he wants me to know it.

I've learned not to speak until spoken to. I want to soothe him by saying 'sorry sir,' but I've learned to wait, to be silent, not to speak unless I'm sure he wants to hear it.

Finally, he speaks, "You and I gonna have a little chat."

"Yes sir," I respond. There's a sharp, strong slap across the side of my face and head. I can feel his anger in that one sharp, strong stroke.

"Did I fucken tell you to speak?"

I stay silent, maintain my posture, staying open to him.

"You ain't gonna speak, cunt. Ain't gonna use your holes the way you want. You and I are gonna have a little chat."

He puts his thumb in my mouth, grabs my jaw, and nods my head for me up and down as 'yes'.

"That's right."

He leaves the room and goes to the garage. After a bit, he returns. I keep my head bowed down, trying to see what he has in his hands. I see rope but can't figure the rest.

Above there are hooks on the ceiling he's drilled in. He sometimes uses these for ropes and pulleys, attaching me as he desires. I hear him doing something behind me, hear rope being spooled. Then I feel his fingers in my arsehole. Think he's applying lube up there.

"Don't know how lucky yer are, do ya?" his fingers back and forth, going deep, filling me.

Then I feel something cold. A butt plug, I think. But then I realise he's got "the hook" in me. The steel butt plug he's put in my hole is part of a hook and that hook has a loop, and he's spun rope through that loop and this hooks the arsehole, the whole body, to the ceiling like this. He pulls me up, making me stand, stretching me further until I'm on the tips of my toes. He secures the rope. Suspends the arsehole, the whole body in a tight stretch.

The butt plug strains at my hole. I can't help but grunt, but he grabs me by the balls, points his finger close in my face, "Shut the fuck up." He stays like that, my eyes are on his finger, his grip on my balls tighten, he says "I won't ask nicely again."

He squeezes the balls tighter, causes me to strain on the hook in arsehole, trying to bend over with pain, but can't.

"Do not make a fucking noise."

He holds he me like that a while, his head close to my mouth, he's taking it in, savouring.

He let's go which causes me to move sharply back, which causes the round ball in the arsehole to pull sharply up by the hook. But am trying not to make a sound.

He goes and gets something from across the room, returns, puts ball gag in my mouth, wrapping it around my head, locking it in place.

"We're gonna have a little chat, you and I."

Now I see cuffs in his hand. He brings my arms around front, cuffs me, then moves my cuffed hands underneath my ballsack. He tightens the whole "arrangement" so am pulling back of ballsack up with cuffed hands in a tight clinch, pinching balls and straining whole body.

I'm bent over from the front, pulled down by the cuffed hands beneath the balls, and pulled up by the hook in arsehole from behind.

He rubs his fingers under his nose, then his chin. He takes a few steps back, then to the sides, inspecting his work. He makes some adjustments, I stay completely still and silent.

For a while, he just observes.

Then he gets closer. I feel his hand very gently, tenderly, on my arse, his breath in my ear. He's taking his time, savouring the moment. He's real close now. Can feel the heat coming off his body, smell his breath.

He whispers right in my ear, ever so softly, just his breath really "Think about what you're missing out on. What yer usually get when I get home from work. But you ay getting that today, are ya? Trussed up and gagged, yer miss it doh ya?"

He nods my head for me using the gag, up and down, up and down.

Then there's a sharp punch to my gut. I grunt painfully through the ball gag.

"What the fuck did I tell ya? Yer just ay listening to me am ya? Yam a fucken stupid bitch, ay yer?"

Nods my head up and down for me with the ball gag.

Then he punches me in the balls. I swallow hard but can't help but moan, disobeying him.

He whispers again, "You just won't listen to me will ya cunt? You and I gonna have a little chat."