It's told from the point of view of someone a little bit crazy, so I hope I achieved that effect. I hope people like it.
I’m not a “maniac”. I’m not weird, certainly not insane, and I’m not sick. But sometimes…
Sometimes life gets a little boring. Sometimes I need a little something extra. Something just for me, that no one has to know about. Something secret.
Having explained that, my current situation should seem quite justified, my reasoning self-evident.
* * *
She will come around any minute now. Still asleep. So perfect and pretty. My heart aches. I want her so badly. I want her to love me. She will, too, before long.
Clothing does not become a body so beautiful, so I have removed them. She won’t mind. She knows how pretty she is. She knows how she affects men. The rise and fall of her breasts, her long, slim arms and legs, her tiny little feet. She is irresistible.
She stirs, and now the anticipation in me is rising. I can’t wait until she discovers her new surroundings. The first few moments will be a shock. But, that’s what the gag is for. The big, bright red ball gag between her lips. It isn’t necessary. The basement has been carefully soundproofed. But she will no doubt want to scream. It’s part of the game. Resistance and denial. Mock terror and panic. I can tell she’ll play the role well. She’ll need to be able to hear me, so I can’t allow screaming.
I move closer. It’s essential that I’m the first thing she sees when she comes to. She’ll relax when she realizes it’s me who’s taken her to her new paradise. Her little toes hang six inches off the floor, dangling. Her eyes, consequently, are level with mine. We’re on equal ground this way; no doubt this will give her some confidence.
Her body twists a bit, bouncing her off the wall her back is against. She hangs loosely from her arms. The big, soft cuffs that encase her wrists would not be too uncomfortable for her. I can’t stand the thought of her being in pain. They are locked together, like handcuffs, and connected to the roof by a chain.
Her eyes flutter, and then open. Oh, they are so pretty. She’s looking down at the floor, her feet dangling above it. She doesn’t comprehend. The disorientation will pass, but it is understandable.
No doubt she is now trying to figure out how she got here. Trying to piece together the last memories. The parking lot outside the coffee shop, her shift just over. A hot day. She sees me on the way to her car, me heading into the store. She waves.
To me, she is just another pretty girl working at an anonymous coffee shop. Long brown hair, green eyes. Slim and perfect. Her co-workers poke her in the ribs, and she laughs in excitement. Just another girl.
But to her, I’m something much more. I can take her away from it all. I can show her a world she never dreamed existed. She wanted someone to love, and she knew it was me.
“You usually come in during my shift.”
“I’m running a little late today.”
“See you tomorrow, then.”
She continues. She’s scared, I know. It’s hard to admit your feelings sometimes. All she needs is a little push in the right direction.
“Before you go, can you help me with some directions?”
Nervous hesitation. It was obvious she couldn’t believe I was actually talking to her.
“I don’t actually know the area very well.” I pull out the map.
“I’m just looking for this place right here.”
She pretends not to have time for my ploy. She’s so confused. But she walks over, nonetheless. A brave girl.
She was giving nothing. She wanted me to initiate. She was too scared. Well, I was prepared.
I grabbed her, around the neck.
I had to act quickly, before she changed her mind. I had to decide what was best for the both of us.
The cloth pressed over her face. In that instant, her eyes were huge and afraid. And who could blame her? She was turning her back on her old life. It was boring and routine, but it was familiar. She was going on to something better, but the change would be hard.
And now she is waking. Her head shoots up, her eyes meet mine. I smile, gently.
“Hi, sweetheart. It’ll be alright.” She realizes it’s me. Her eyes widen. She can’t contain her self. Thrashing and twisting, screaming, and even kicking. So excited.
She’s precious to me, even though I barely know her. I don’t want her to hurt herself. I take a few moments to wrap a length of rope several times around her ankles, and then tie it off to a bolt in the wall hear the floor. I pull it tight, stretching her wonderful form. Now, in the event of another bout of excitement, she won’t be able to hurt herself, or me.
I stand and move close again. Now that she cannot move an inch, she has time to reflect on her new situation.
Tears? It’s such a wonderful feeling, knowing I can make her this happy.
With her eyes she is begging. Pleading. Please, teach me everything you know. Show me everything you’ve seen.
“I’ll show you. I’ll teach you.”
I stroke her wonderful hair. She twists the tiny bit she is allowed. She’s unfamiliar to a kind touch from a stranger. She must have lived such a hard life. Well, no longer.
It’s time to show her what life could be like. What true freedom is. I let my hand slide down over her underarm, gently raking my fingernails over the smooth, stretched skin. She twisted again.
It’s not a new sensation for her, certainly, which sort of disappoints me. We both wish I could be touching her in this way for the first time. Her friends had found her first. They had poked and prodded in their friendly manner. She never knew there could be such a sexual aspect to such an innocent feeling. But now it must seem so obvious to her. She had been missing this. I was showing her a whole new world.
She looks at me, almost confused. It was all so strange to her. She is expecting sex; brutal penetration as though we were animals. It would, of course, demonstrate how much we loved each other. But I want to open her mind.
I slide down further, pressing my fingers into her ribs. This time she squeals in total delight, the beautiful sound muffled by the gag. She’s trying to hide it, to keep it all in, I can tell. She is ashamed to show how vulnerable she is, but she would lose her self-consciousness in time.
I press harder and harder. By now she is really struggling against the bonds that hold her spirit captive.
I add my other hand to the opposite side. She can’t take the pleasure for much longer. Her laughter is now screaming. It’s unbearable for her. With her in this state, I can now really start to teach her what I have to offer. I dig in, hard. We revel in each other’s pleasure, and I’m laughing now with her. She needs me to stop. She’s never been so inundated with sensation. Her body isn’t used to it yet. I have to push her senses to their absolute extremes.
Her eyes are glazed over. She is beginning to weaken, her struggles coming only in half-hearted spurts. I release her sides and back away. It takes several minutes for her to calm down. More tears fall on her toes. It breaks my heart to see her so sad. She wishes she could withstand more. She feels she has disappointed me by succumbing so soon. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll keep at it.”
I stroke her hair.
“Before long, I’ll be able to tickle you for longer than you ever thought possible.”
The crying intensifies. She is so happy. She can’t wait to prove herself to me.
“I have to go now, but I’ll be back soon.”
I hate to leave her, but real-life often cannot wait.
Before I leave, I realise she is still hanging up over the floor. I know she wants to stay that way. Her fantasies can overcome her. Maybe she is a slave girl. Or maybe the victim of some maniacal kidnapper.
I can’t leave her this way though. Her arms won’t be able to take it. I lower the chain until she is just standing on her toes, swaying slightly as she tries to balance with bound ankles.
She’s so precious to me, even though I barely know her. I can’t allow her to be hurt, no matter how enthusiastic she is. After all, I’m not a maniac.