Plug

The gag slips into her mouth.

Silencing her.

The blindfold is knotted behind her head.

Blinding her.

The rope tightened around her wrists and ankles

Securing her.

Breath hitting the walls. Hers from her fluttering nostrils, his from his steady ones.

Sounds floating across her skin, the low hum of the tool in his guiding hand.

Guiding her.

Past the easy place, the quick burst of release.

Past the level where it hurts but it still feels good.

Into the place where the slickness slips away, where nothing matters more than getting away from the source of pleasure.

The incessant buzz.

The vibration shaking her, rattling her pleas for mercy into disjointed bits, scattered, not making sense.

Smiling gently, he asks his pet if she understands he will not stop until he drives her to the bottom.

She says something but it is lost.

As she is.

Falling down.

Wave after wave, tremor upon tremor.

Orgasms.

Not pretty but painful. Not sweet but scary, like the things that wake you at night but  you cannot see.

Her body, contracting. Possessed by the hope that she can get free.

No. The only exit door is the one she is hiding from.

Falling.

Further.

Hitting walls, scraping her mind along jutting edges and sharp points.

Silent.

Blind.

Secure.

Screaming.

Every muscle taunt,  hardening to the touch; living marble.

Joints creaking, nerves grinding.

All the gears in her head halted.

Then.

She hits.

Bottom.

He sees her.

Stops.

Smiles a bit more.

Waits for her to mentally drag herself off the bottom.

As she sorts her rubbery thoughts, panting, thinking she is done…

He pushes her back down.

Down.

Holds her there.

She has not earned the right to escape through the door.

But she will…

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