He has a home for me in a standing cupboard. I am displayed among his toys (his tools of torment), arms outstretched and tied to a clothing bar slightly above my head. I am hung up with the clothing items he keeps for me to wear as well as clothes he wears for when our play gets a bit messy or soaked in sweat. I stand perched on one high heel while my other leg is tied bent, raised to the side, and secured to the side wall of my little room— leaving my pussy exposed and vulnerable. Under me is a silver bucket beside my lonely foot. It took me a moment to realize its purpose. He intends to keep me here… but for how long?
The panic began to build in my chest.
Barely any light slips in between the doors and at my feet, but I have been in my little room long enough that my eyes have adjusted. Through the tiny space in the door I can see that it is locked or chained somehow. Realizing this, I began to struggle with my bonds. The anxiety is rising and I feel as if the air is getting thick and hard to breathe. The ropes bite into me as I tug my hands away from the wall, but the knot holds. I try my leg but again, no slip of the knot.
A whimper catches in my throat. Swallowing down the sound, I feel the collar move on my neck. I shift my head around to adjust the metal against my skin. I lean slightly forward to look down and felt the tug of the collar. My neck is secured to the wall behind me, keeping me from being able to place my head against the door.
A shadow crosses the path of the light and there is a tap on the door.
“Still alive in there?” he asks sarcastically.
I pause for a moment, holding back a sassy reply. He has taught me better than that so the question becomes not IF he will punish my backtalk, but which of the tools around me would he use? My response must have took too long because he slaps the door loudly.
“ANSWER ME, WHORE!” he snarled.
“Y-yes!” I stammered. “Please… please open the door. I feel like I’m suffocating.” Air to my lungs is coming in short panting breaths now. My panic has taken me almost completely but I’m hanging on as long as I can.
Breathe… be calm. Don’t talk back.
“Awww…” his voice softens slightly. With a hint of mocking, he continues. “Is it dark in there? Are you starting to get scared? I thought you were my brave little sub. I thought you said you could handle a silly little box. Ready to use your word already, and just because it’s a little stuffy in there?”
“NO!” I cry out. My ego is not ready to fall for that. I breathe deeply and straighten my form. The ropes lessen their bite at my tender skin. “It’s just that I would like to use the bathroom if I may. I don’t know if I can hold it.” In my mind I am hoping that he isn’t far enough into this play to force me to use the bucket, or maybe he has other plans for that… I hope.
The chain rattles on the door. As it opens I am greeted with the relief of the cool air rushing in.
“You’re a lucky little slut. I wasn't going to open the door for you, but since you asked so nicely to use the bathroom, I wanted to watch.” A smirk dances across his face. Looking at my hands expectantly, I am prepared to hold my balance on my leg. Moments pass and my eyes meet his. He stands, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
“Here!?” I question. “You want me to go right here? But I can’t! I’ve tried for you and I just can’t!” My eyes are pleading with him now. Many attempts before, at times when I really WANTED to do this for him, and my body fought viciously against it.
My brain is whining now – I can’t! I just can’t! DAMMIT he just doesn’t get it…. and this angle my leg is in… what if I miss the bucket? I can’t even see the damn thing fully. And what then? Will he make me drink it? OH, HELL NO.
As my mind rages in protest, his hand raises up to my face. I flinch, and a small chuckle at my timidity rises in him. He holds my chin and looks at me seriously.
“Get out of your own way and do what you are told.” His eyes are warm but his voice is cold and commanding. “You do this, and I will reward you. You don’t and you get to stay in this box all damn day. I have work to do and I can’t wait around for your lazy ass.”
Reluctantly, I adjust my balance. I try to look down at the bucket and feel the tug at my neck again. I look at him accusingly, but his face holds indifference. I shift. I sink my body down a bit. I angle this way and that, whining as I go. He rolls his eyes and reaches for the doors.
“NO! Wait… please!” I plead. I take a deep breath. My body fights as I try to push out the fluid. Another breath and then another push… Careful! Go slow, I tell myself. Don’t miss the bucket. He crosses his arms again, legs slightly astride and intently watching my pussy for action.
Another deep breath as I calm and focus my mind. Then I feel it. My eyes dart up to his as a small dribble starts. I hear the liquid tap the metal. I let go of a little more urine with triumphant yet nervous laugh. THAT’S IT! YES! I feel the warm liquid splatter on my leg. My flow is growing more confident but a small shift moves the stream across the rim of the bucket. The pee splashes on the wooden floor and splatters on my shoe. Focusing again, I adjust my aim.
Who gives a shit? I tell myself. I’m doing it! Fucking FINALLY!
He moves in and embraces me. One hand cups my pussy, interrupting the flow of warm fluid from my body. He softly rubs the saturated flesh, slipping a finger inside for a moment.
“That’s my good girl,” he coos. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”
I chuckle, eyes closed. With a soft moan and a sultry voice, I reply, “You have no idea… But it was worth it for this.” My hips are moving in slow circles, feeling his finger buried in me and his palm against my clit. He works on my wet pussy, whispering in my ear to cum for him. I can smell his body on the clothes around me and I burry my face into his neck, taking his smell in. The toys rattle at my movement and in that small moment I can remember flashes of delicious pain each and every one has caused me. The heat of my urine drenched embarrassment and the desire to do whatever he asks drops me into an orgasmic flood. With his fingers hooked inside me, and one arm around my back, I lift my free leg and wrap it around him. The rope is biting into my wrists but I don’t even care. The overflow of endorphins carry me though the waves of my orgasm.
As I catch my breath and lower myself back to my one legged stance, he releases me. There is a satisfied look on his face.
“Now,” he begins, a cold, evil smile tugs at his soft lips. “Are you ready to clean up your mess?”