Enslaved

Chapter Seven: The Dance of Denial and Acceptance

"You're a little masochist aren't you little one?" Gabe's breath radiated heat against my ear as he dragged me onto his lap and his hand unexpectedly brought a crimson warmth to my buttocks in rapid succession. "Have you had enough?" he teased.

I shook my head as I wriggled. Gabe's blistering handprint imprinted on the globe of my ass before he emblazoned the other. The gyrations of my hips arched increasingly upwards seeking the sting. Following Gabe's anal claim of me, he attempted to acclimatize me to the delights of pain. I was kept confined in chastity, "ass only" for weeks afterwards, mindlessly teased to the brink, but never permitted the satiety of release. Given the prolonged period of denial, I hungered for the ridged and veiny stiffness of Gabe's cock as he inched it forcefully into my anus and stretched my sphincter to its widest; my now willing canal accepting the intrusion. It was the only sexual gratification I received, and I welcomed his penetrating thrusts deep into my body, eager for an anally induced orgasm. Gabe had conditionally released me with the caveat that I was only permitted to climax while receiving a spanking. My body was being conditioned to associate pleasure with pain. This was my fifth attempt.

Gabe's palm struck down with increasingly more force as I squirmed, grinding against the firmness of his thighs. All rationality cast aside by the wanton despair for chasing pleasure as the frantic undulations of my body focused solely on my base needs. I begged for Gabe's hands to mark upon my flesh, optimistic that the heat of skin upon skin would trigger that crescendo of desire that had eluded me for weeks. With each successive slap, I could feel myself edging upwards towards a higher plateau. But the pain of Gabe's naked palm on my increasingly sore flesh became harder to tolerate. I pumped my hips forward urgently trying to generate the requisite friction, and I concentrated on delivering myself towards the pleasure that had intolerably frustrated me in a dance of denial of which I was an unwilling partner.

"Master please. Help me. Please touch me. Please let me climax." My whimpering pleas went unheeded. Gabe only slapped me again before his hand stilled. His finger slid into my inevitably wet folds to ascertain how stimulated I was by the pain. The slipperiness of my arousal always evident. The pull of moisture from my cunt by Gabe's thick fingers, to paint my lips, solidified my enjoyment of the act in my mind. His insistence that I suck the tang of my excitement off his digit kept me contained in the humiliating position of longing Gabe insisted upon.

"So close Amelia. We'll try harder next time." Gabe's tone was infuriatingly lackadaisical. Locked deprivation always awaited my unsuccessful attempts. My squirms of resistance an ineffective argument of dissuasion. I would inexorably slip to my knees, tears of frustration clouding my vision, as I implored Gabe to be merciful. He only patted my head.

Gabe was no longer content to allow me to dictate the pace of my submission. He pushed my sexual limits more insistently. I was trembling from the strain on my body. My arms were bound tightly behind me constrained by the rope corset armbinder. My breasts were framed by a larger general chest harness that surrounded each breast. As Gabe had pulled my arms back and wound the jute rope around my limbs, he had explained his desire to truss me in Shibari. "You'll love it little one. There is freedom in being bound." He led me to the bed, on my back, and bound my ankles tight to my thighs

futomomo

style. He pressed my legs apart and teased the head of a large dildo against my petalled flesh inserting the silicone beast into me. The smooth coolness of the beads pressed against my anus as Gabe's determined hand buried all five spheres into me.

"I admire your efforts in trying to climax amidst the pain. Your willingness to do so pleases me greatly little one." Gabe stepped back, admiring the ropework. "You're beautiful. Spread. Bound. Glistening. I won't suspend you today. Open." He tapped my lips as he inserted a bit gag and strapped it tight behind my head. I was silenced. Suddenly fearful of Gabe's plans, my tresses snapped through the air as I shook my head frantically. Gabe held up nipple clamps and I breathed hard. He had never clipped anything on my body before. Gabe's tongue lapped at the already erect bud, slowly suckling the protuberance. I watched him pull down the ring from the tweezer clamps before he positioned the clamp on my nipple and slowly rolled it up. "Tight enough?" I nodded vigorously. The pinch was unlike anything I ever experienced. Gabe only tightened the clamp further. He laved my other nipple similarly before attaching the implement.

"I want you to experience agony and ecstasy Amelia. You need not fear the former. You will embrace the challenge of pain." Gabe's finger traced down my jawline. Pain, Gabe insisted was on a continuum with pleasure. I would learn to crave it, he contended. He already assumed me to be a masochist based on how wet I became from his spankings. "Besides," he correctly gauged from the frantic despair in my eyes, "don't you want to climax Amelia?" He held up a wand vibrator and looked at me with a lascivious grin.

My prior tearful entreaties to Gabe proved ineffectual. Satisfaction would be achieved at his hand, by his determination. I nodded, impatient to feel the sweet release that Gabe had always been generous with, but now withheld. Gabe sat cross-legged on the bed alongside me and waited as he watched me squirm within my bonds. I pressed my bound thighs together in modesty. Gabe tapped them apart. "Your cunt is always open to me," he reprimanded. With each disquieting blink of Gabe's stare, my discomfort increased. His hunched figure overshadowed mine. Gabe only waited and watched, until eventually I closed my eyes. The warmth of Gabe's breath on my cheek as he slid a blindfold over my eyes was reassuring. "That's it Amelia. Enjoy the rope." Long moments passed as my flesh felt the tight press of jute, the breeze against my moistened nether lips, the full throbbing of the nipple clamps, the rigidity of my arms bound behind me. I sank into the confining tightness, my hips lifting upwards and moving slightly.

"That's my girl," Gabe cooed as he turned on the vibrator and held the wand to my clit, watching my face contort into immediate expressions of delight as the vibrations induced bodily spasms. Gabe pulled at the chain connecting the nipple clamps and my mouth gasped around the gag as I felt a dull, heaviness levied against my breasts. The chain jiggled and dragged, all the while as Gabe kept the incessant pulsations on my clit rocking me higher towards realized longing. Gabe glided the vibrator against the chain before he slid it back down my body to press against the dildo's base. I was fidgeting against my bindings, working towards the orgasm that I desperately craved to experience before Gabe's generosity was revoked.

"Come Amelia," Gabe recognized my now familiar pants and moans that pulled me even closer to orgasm. The sweet feelings of lift and struggle mingled with my bodily convulsions as they overwhelmed me. As I fell over the precipice Gabe pulled the chain connecting the clamps one more time and removed them from my nipples. I screamed against my gag as the intensity of the orgasm overtook me. The blood flow rushed back into my nipples, sharp and fast, and they throbbed and pulsed in syncopated rhythm with my clitoris as desire became concentrated in an intense medley of longing and ache. As my pleasure peaked, I writhed and rocked from side to side as the rush of endorphins and adrenaline engulfed my brain. I lay there panting in the aftermath of my orgasm, my brain hazy, my limbs constrained, feeling warmth and security.

My blindfold was tugged off. Gabe looked predatory as the greenness of his eyes swept over the sheen of perspiration adorning my bodily reality. It was a testament to his understanding of the yearnings I hadn't even admitted to myself. His tongue dipped around the wetness of my slit before trailing up my body. "Again?" he asked me with a salacious smirk as his fingers lightly spanked the dildo in my parted, wet folds. "You want to orgasm again don't you Amelia?"

I bit the gag in frustration. I longed to recreate the delicious discomfort that pain caused before it gave way to indescribable pleasure.

"Do you want to climax again Amelia?" He spanked my pussy lightly again, as if impatient.

I flinched from the unexpected touch. My chest rose and fell in rapid succession as I watched Gabe hold up a third tweezer clamp and rubbed my still sensitive clit. My eyes filled with sudden regret at my acquiescence. I tried to shake my body, but Gabe only doubled down until my bud was throbbing from his touch. He applied the clamp quickly before I could grunt out an objection. I screamed around the gag from the sudden pinch. My clitoris, still sensitive from his ministrations, throbbed painfully. The tightening of the tweezer clamp firmly squeezed around the bud. He reapplied the nipple clamps and pulled the chain down forming a V before he connected it to the chain attached to my clitoris clamp. Gabe flipped me over suddenly. My shoulders to the mattress, my tied limbs spreading my moistness lewdly to his gaze.

His lips grazed my earlobe before he nibbled down. His voice, hypnotic in its lilt, "Embrace the pain, Amelia. Feel the pulsations." He slapped my buttocks. "Your breasts, bound, are aching to be released from their confines. Your arms stretched uncomfortably back for my pleasure." His hand met my buttocks again. "Your legs tied obscenely open, so your cunt is accessible for me." His hands moved lower and spanked the wet folds of my pussy for emphasis drilling the dildo inwards. "Your clitoris aching to be freed from the clamp. Your nipples pinched tight." He pulled the chain connecting the clamps in a painful stretch. "Can you feel it, Amelia? Pulsing? Throbbing? Aching? The power of pain coursing through you?" Gabe punctuated his last point with an abrupt, quick slap to my pussy. "Your body yearns for the pain Amelia."

I hoped for the promise of Gabe's incendiary words to inflame my libido. The heat of Gabe's hand made me moisten in anticipation. Gabe only struck once with a hard thwack, allowing me time to absorb and interpret the sensation. I recognized the thudding and sting immediately. Gabe struck me with the paddle. Instead of running from it, I grunted out my assent as I presented my ass. Gabe kissed the back of my neck before he massaged my buttocks and struck me again. It was all the indication he required that I was ready to explore a different side of my submission, one that embraced the intermingling of desire with pain. As my body absorbed blow after blow, I shuddered in delight through my climax as Gabe cooed how I was a "good girl". He slid the dildo out and entered me, the burning stretch of my pussy wrapped tight around his cock.

Whereas before speaking in third was an occasional occurrence, I invoked "little one" when appropriate. It was a deliberate choice to adopt the nomenclature with more frequency. Gabe didn't insist upon it. I did it willingly and perhaps out of self-preservation. If I objectified myself, the lack of agency I exerted over my own life could be rationalized. It helped keep me in the mindset I needed to convince Gabe of my obedience. It also pleased Gabe. I was simply little one, Master's obedient submissive. I was no longer Amelia, constantly and consistently disappointed in having my escape opportunities thwarted.

Gabe was "Master". Initially, when I transferred the location of my servitude, I defied him by intentionally calling him Gabe. It was a way to exert autonomy, irrespective of how insignificant, into my routines, especially after the indignity of my failed escape. The times I addressed him as Gabe, I was spanked until I acknowledged and corrected the error. The intensity of Gabe's discipline was commensurate with the rebelliousness intrinsic in my challenges.

"Who am I?" Gabe demanded as I was splayed over his lap, my bare buttocks exposed. "You will demonstrate respect to me in my house Amelia."

"Master. Little one is sorry Master. She didn't address you with respect."

Gabe's bare hand would spank my buttocks in rapid succession for the infringement and then he would guide me to my hands and knees and direct me to spread my legs. From behind, his hand would slap against my pussy. I had to maintain position, or the punishment would begin anew.

"Who am I?" Gabe would insist and after every painful smack against my nether lips, I would scream, "Master."

The pain convinced me to cease my recklessness and rebel in other ways. Gabe was intentionally deliberate with the way he spanked me in punishment versus pleasure. Pain, without his lingering caresses, was at the fore when I misbehaved. Gabe knew how to play my body against itself.

As my submission to Gabe intensified to pre-punishment levels, Gabe paradoxically permitted me more latitude. My arms were no longer always bound behind my back. I could enter any unlocked room at will, of which there were few proportionally to those Gabe freely accessed. I once inquired where my old apartment was. Gabe only grunted neither confirming nor denying any of my suspicions. I was permitted to do anything I wanted within the confines of the walls, providing Gabe's approval. The autonomy of toileting and showering myself was repatriated. Though, Gabe observed me when the desire struck him, which was often.

Gabe wasn't concerned I might flee. I received subtle reminders of my collar's GPS tracking capabilities particularly when I'd disappear in the enormity of the house. My visibility was always a tap away on Gabe's smartphone. The possibility of flight was curtailed. Doors were locked from the inside with keys. Bars were installed over windows. Cameras were in every corner, invisible but ever present in their surveillance of my movements. On the occasions when Gabe escorted me outside, my arms were perpetually bound behind me, and I was leashed tight to Gabe's wrist, while my ankles were hobbled. I accepted Gabe's precautionary measures. The restrictiveness of my subjugation could not damper the rejuvenating feeling of the fresh air as it entered my lungs with each deep breath I inhaled.

Gabe intuited that the demands upon my body and mind were enervating, taxing me to the brink of my sanity. "I know this is difficult Amelia." Gabe's hand stroked my hair. For the week afterwards, Gabe pampered me with soothing bubble baths, and massages, and my favourite foods. His attentiveness a painful reminder of the acute sense of loss I nevertheless struggled with accepting. During the sleepless hours as Gabe snored beside me, I softly wept, cocooned under the duvet to avoid the cameras' unforgiving memory. Gabe only saw how obedient I was becoming, rather than how fragmented I was feeling.

As a reward for my dutifulness, Gabe would post the stories I had penned in captivity. Commenters on the erotica site remarked they were pleased I had resumed writing. Writing was a welcome change from the routinization of sexual servitude I suffered at the alter of Gabe's insatiable libido. While I was writing, my hands engaged in something other than being wrapped around Gabe's cock. It mattered little that my creativity was expressed naked on Gabe's bare lap, plugged anally. As I wrote, Gabe instructed me to grind my pussy against him, delighting him with a private lap dance against his engorging cock as I developed the arc of my characters' narratives. I felt Gabe's arousal as I teased the edges of my moist slit against his hardening girth, barely penetrating before pulling back up, and sliding back down. Occasionally Gabe would pull at the locking butt plug, causing me to whimper and my fingers to still.

"Read me what you've written," Gabe instructed. I obliged, and my words filled the silence as he directed my body in a dance of flesh upon skin. Gabe lifted my hips and positioned his erect cock to the entrance of my swollen womanhood, teasing my labia, before I speared myself onto his hardness. I was always sopping and available for Gabe. So successful was his conditioning of my desire to his touch. My chest met the cold hardness of his desk and he thrust into me as his hand grabbed my cuffed wrists to release them and directed them downwards while his other pinned my neck. It was a claiming gesture that sent a thrill through me. "Touch yourself," he murmured as the lengthy strokes of his cock battered against my cervix. My hand caressed my clitoris chasing the desire to compensate for the weeks I had gone without.

Gabe even permitted me to sign into my email after many months. It brought such joy to filter through my spam and banish the messages to my trash, something I had been long deprived the privilege of performing. It mattered little that my dominant hand was cuffed to my collar and that Gabe sat next to me, the leash taut should he need to take corrective action. I didn't dare risk having this luxury revoked. I merely deleted the hundreds of spam emails one by one, an indulgence I no longer detested. The circumscribed autonomy was exhilarating.

When Gabe permitted me notice of my inbox, I discovered that he was continuing to impersonate me. Through my imprisonment, he had conversed with my friends, informing them of my journey, and sending doctored photographs of me posing in front of landmarks. I kneeled beside Gabe as he penned to my friends that I was currently in Paris, had visited the Ile de la Cité, was awed by the stained glass of Sainte Chapelle, and enjoyed wandering the cobblestoned streets of the Fourth Arrondissement. Gabe asked me to edit the email so that it was consistent with my tone and voice. My bound arms clutched uselessly at the air behind me. Tears splattered to the floor below as I was reminded of a life commandeered. I wasn't a good enough actress to mask my sorrow or stifle my anger. I refused to participate in the charade until Gabe's tone carried that edge of reprimand that if I continued my obstinacy, punishment would await. I snivelled out that I would never use the word "awesome" and my friends knew I would grab a crêpe to stay within budget, rather than eat at a restaurant. Hatred bubbled up, and I clenched my fists as I struggled to my feet and walked to the door attempting to flee the indignity of loss Gabe subjected me to.

"I didn't give you permission to leave Amelia." Gabe stood up and closed the gap between us before grasping my chin painfully.

"You can fuck right off Gabe. Punish me as you're wont to do. You don't have anything else in your repertoire." My eyes defied his authority. My erect posture a challenge to his very presence.

Instead of pulling me over his lap as I anticipated, Gabe only released my hands. "It's permissible to feel anger and sadness Amelia." He embraced me into a tight hold, and I sobbed uncontrollably before my legs buckled under the weight of anguish. I was sullen for the remainder of the week. Gabe afforded me privacy while I brooded in my bedroom. I took my meals in my room and cuddled with Mittens. The impersonation a step too far. It was grotesque that he had abducted me. It was reprehensible that he made me participate in the fraud. He hadn't punished me in the aftermath of my tantrum. I didn't know why. It confused me.

One night as my resentment lifted to the reality of our co-existence, I ventured to Gabe's bedroom and knocked. I needed comfort from the very man who caused my suffering. A week in solitude had become intolerable. Gabe wasn't in his room. My eyes flicked immediately to the monitors. I made my way downstairs. There was little I could try without rousing suspicion, especially on video playback. Suddenly my surreptitiousness gave way to outright boldness. I pulled at the front door. It opened. Gabe had forgotten to lock it. I stepped out onto the front wraparound porch, inhaling deeply. It was the first time I'd been outside, independent of Gabe's control, during my capture.