I get off the bed and spend a few moments staring at the absolute vision she is. Bound, completely helpless, and plugged. Open for me to do whatever I want with her.
“Such a pretty little Flower,” I murmur. “Alright. The punishment’s going to start now.”
I click the small remote on the bedstand, and the sound of low vibrations fill the room. Scarlett’s body stiffens, and she lets out a noise of panic. Her struggle starts back up again as the small plug in her ass vibrates, causing what I’d imagine is significant discomfort… which might or might not be a conduit for pleasure. I don’t particularly care if she comes right now; her punishment is being helpless and bending to my will. We’ll have some orgasm-play soon, but not tonight.
I pick up the tray of food. “I’ll be back in a while. The plug’s set to vibrate at different frequencies, so you’ll have plenty of fun in my absence. Next time, don’t bite the fucking hand that feeds you.”
Chapter Seven
Scarlett
The plug is relentless in its onslaught of cruel, unending vibrations that waver between so intense they border on painful, and low enough to tickle rather than stimulate. I don’t know how long I stay in this hellscape after Monster ties me up and leaves me to suffer, but eventually, my sense of time disappears. Slowly, bit by bit, all my senses retreat. My vision blurs, my limbs relax, my hearing fades… until all I can feel is the plug and the effect it’s having on my body. My mind retreats into a hazy, fluffy, half-present state. Still restless, but somehow, also at peace. Accepting.
I become aware of more than just the discomfort as the plug’s vibrations slowly start to intensify—there’s another sensation entirely between my legs. My clit throbs with each beat of my heart, and my pussy tingles, as if longing to be filled. A low need sparks up within me, until the plug is more a source of frustration than discomfort. It takes a while for me to recognize what’s happening; I’m getting turned on by this humiliating punishment.
Not by the plug alone, I don’t think… possibly from the taboo nature of it, but mostly, my source of arousal is this position. Any movement from my hands brings my knees further under me. I try to tug at my ankles instead, jerking and wriggling them… and the spreader bar holding my legs captivewidenswith my motions. I try toforce my ankles together, but I can’t; the damn thing is locked in place. It’ll widen, but it won’t shrink.
The struggle against my bonds only intensifies my need, and the shame that accompanies it. I’m getting turned on by this; I can feel the evidence of my arousal causing a sticky mess on my thighs. How fucked up am I to find any pleasure in my circumstances? Captured by an obsessive madman, contained in a room that mimics my old torture chamber, and trussed up like a turkey simply because I had the gall to slap a fork out of his hand.
My thoughts disappear as the plug reaches its peak of vibrating intensity, and I feel a vaguely familiar pressure form in my core. A twisted knot that starts pushing me closer to the edge of pleasure. I fight against it, struggling, tensing my entire body to ward off the orgasm… and before it hits, the plug returns to its lowest setting, leaving behind an unbearable needy ache in my body. At this stage, I think any pressure on my clit would set me off.
My senses return to me with a vengeance when I hear the door open. I’m so exhausted with the struggle against my bonds that I can’t turn my head to face Monster, and I’m too humiliated to even try. He’s thoroughly overpowered me and shown that he has full control here. My only recourse, only way to spare myself further punishment or damage, is to submit to his will. Iknowthat’s what I should do… but my temper tends to get the best of me these days, and I can’thelpbut taunt him.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Flower… you lookstunninglike this.”
The praise makes my nipples pebble, even as my humiliation deepens.
“God, if you could only see yourself…” footsteps carry him closer to me, until I can feel his presence right beside me. He wraps my hair around his fist and uses it as a handle to turn my head in his direction. There are dried tear stains on my cheeks, and he tracks them with his gaze. “Have you had enough?”
I nod with a whimper. My jaw aches, my entire body aches, and my desperation to orgasm—alongside my fear to do so—is relentless. I can’t give in, butGod, I want to come.
“Hmm.” Monster trails his fingers down my back until he reaches the plug. He pushes on it, making me writhe, then takes the handle in his grip and twists it around—which makes mescreech. My ass is sore, my entire body is sore, and I’m so disoriented I’m barely coherent. Monster’s gotten a lot more creative since I ran, and I fear his creativity could be the death of me.
“Did the plug make you come?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“That’s unfortunate. I’ll train you up to come from stimulation back here.” He twists the plug again, and I groan. “That’ll make it a lot more fun whenever I want to take your ass, don’t you think?”
I try to saynobehind the gag, but it only comes out as a long moan.
I stiffen as his fingers trail lower, slipping through my wet folds and finding my swollen clit. “Jesus,” he hisses. “You’re fucking soaked. What is it that got you so wet, Flower?” a smirk tilts up his lips. “I’d be willing to bet it’s the immobility. You’re not an ass-slut yet, but you always did respond to being tied down… though I never quite clocked your responses before. I was too distracted.” He gently strums my clit, and my body jerks instinctively. “I’m not going to miss out on a single thing ever again,” he says. “Now… I want an orgasm out of you before I let you go. Just one.”
I shake my head, but my refusal is completely irrelevant to him. He knows what he wants, and he knows precisely how to get it. I jerk again, trying to twist out from under him, but the only resultis that the spreader bar widensagain, until the stretch on my inner thighs borders on pain. That only adds to the stimulation in my ass, the helplessness, and the featherlight feeling of Monster playing with my clit.
Renewed tears spark in my eyes as I start to tremble from need. If his pressure gets any firmer, I won’t be able to hold back my orgasm.
“The next time you piss me off, you’ll be back in this position… except I’ll also tape a tiny yet powerful vibrator right over your clit,” Monster whispers. “Then I’ll pour myself a glass of scotch and watch as you come until you pass out. If you keep holding back your orgasm, I’ll be pissed off enough to do thatnow.”
I can’t take that right now—Ican’t.
“So, you’re going to come for me, Flower. You have ten seconds. If you don’t…” he trails off with a chuckle. The pressure of his fingers intensify and his movements speed. “You won’t be getting much rest tonight.” His tone hardens. “Come.”
He leaves me with no option, no other way out. I orgasm almost instantly, releasing a choked, pathetic cry. My eyes roll into the back of my head and my body convulses as if I’ve been possessed. The vibrations in my ass mix with the stimulation on my clit, driving me into a mindless state of pleasure so intense it robs me of all thought. I suck in a deep breath, and my belly clenches as it comes out in a piercing scream that not even the gag can mute.
“That’s it—good fucking girl,” Monster hisses. “There’s my good girl.Fuck, Scarlett. Fuck.” He slides his fingers off my clit and pulls the plug out of me, leaving my rosebud shivering and slightly gaping. Small, trembling aftershocks wrack my body in the wake of the cruel punishment. Monster turns off the plug, pulls the gag out of my mouth, and I hear a slight clink as he unlocks the handcuffs. My wrists fall limply to my sides. He frees my legs next and helps roll me ontomy back. I curl up into a fetal position, trying to breathe through the countless aches and discomforts in my body. My jaw twinges from being forced open for so long, my arms pulse painfully from being forced behind my back, my thighs are sore from the stretch of my position, and my nether regions…God,I don’t even want to think about them.
“Tired yourself out, did you?” Monster asks, squatting beside the bed. I flinch when he strokes some damp strands of hair from my forehead. “My beautiful, exhausted little Flower.” He runs his fingers over my lips. “I know you want to sleep, baby, but we need to get you cleaned up.”
