A Quick Trim

In the back room, there was a small desk cluttered with what appeared to be bills, a tall filing cabinet with a few drawers open and a file folders haphazardly stuffed in and handing askew. On the opposite side, there was a set of shelves, holding clipper guards, various hair products, all neatly arranged. Directly in front of her was an old wooden door left ajar. She opened the door. It creaked and moaned like a it was as old as the rest of this section of Boston. Behind the door was staircase that descended into the basement. She could see the flickering reflection of light at the bottom of the stairs -- a dull yellow-green glow of old florescent lights, ready to die at any moment. Kelly stepped sideways down the steps and descended into the darkness. Her footfalls on each step seemed as precarious as the cobblestones outside.

Cautiously, Kelly stepped onto the bottom step and stood motionless as her eyes scanned around the basement. All of the walls were made of odd-sized, unevenly shaped stones, held in place by crumbling mortar. On one wall, there were boxes stacked shoulder-high, pushed up against a seeping wet wall, blackened from mildew. The boxes looked like they hadn't been displaced in years, and were left to absorb the water. Against the opposing wall and beneath the old florescent lamp, there was a workbench with a canvas tarp covering the tabletop. Tucked under the staircase was an old single-sized bed. Its mattress was torn and the cheap metal springs were randomly poking through what was left of the padding. But, most the most prominent object was an old steel barber's chair, placed and bolted dead center on the crumbling concrete basement the floor.

Kelly stepped off the last step, removed her coat and hung it on one of the available pegs screwed into the side of the wooden staircase. For the first time, she noticed the damp, musty air that was as much at part of this creepy environment as any of the other tattered furnishings.

Her eyes focused on a silver chain suspended from the ceiling. As she was told, there were a set of handcuffs attached to the end, connected with an old, rusty padlock. It dangled center and askew from the ceiling, a few away feet from the barber's chair. The chain ran through several pulleys hidden in the rafters above, and ended at some kind of electric winch. The handcuffs floated about even with her forehead and reaching them was no challenge at all. Looking up at the gleaming steel cuffs, she started to feel anxious with nervous tension. She reached up and closed one loop around her wrist, then positioned the other and locked it into place as well. She stood there in silence for a few minutes, then tested the strength of the chain, giving it a good tug. Across the room, the winch spun to life and retracted the chain about 3 inches, hoisting her wrists just above her head, then shut off. Kelly was hit with sudden panic and tugged on the chain again. The winch motor activated again and retracted another 3 inches. This incited even more panic. Kelly twisted her wrists and grabbed at the padlock, trying to test if its age was enough for her to pry it open. She jumped up a little bit and tugged again. The winch activated a third time and ran until her arms were drawn as straight as arrows, pointing into the darkness above her... Then, it stopped leaving her standing on the toes of her boots, the cold steel handcuff loops digging into her flesh. Standing on her toes was already starting to make her calves ache. It wasn't bad, but if she was left suspended like this, it would definitely ache much worse.

Out of fear, Kelly remained absolutely still. Above her head, she could hear footsteps on the old wooden flooring. Occasionally, a footfall would shake lose some dust, leaving it to fall like gentle snowflakes. Every so often, she could also hear indeterminate voices, punctuated with the occasional laugh from either Gabriel or his customer. There was long moment of silence, then a rhythmic pumping sound -- presumably, the barber's chair being elevated or lowered. Another long moment of silence, then there was the familiar sound of an old cash register bell and the thud of the drawer opening. This was followed by the sound of the bell over the front door and a resounding slam.

She could hear Gabriel walking around above her. He would walk into the office... then out on the shop floor, then back to the office... long pauses and silence, then more pacing around. There was no way of telling just how long this had gone on. Kelly's watch and cellphone were back at the hotel and there was no clock visible anywhere in the basement. In all this time, the arches of her feet had joined in the chorus of pain in her calves. Her thighs were also beginning to join in as well. But her legs were only background noise to the pain radiating through her arms and the throb in her palms and fingers. She tried to flex her biceps and forearms, doing her best to keep the flow of blood moving. This would make her arms relax and the tension increase against her wrists. She quickly responded by straightening her arms, fearing that she would activate the winch again.

The basement door creaked and moaned. Heavy footsteps hit each step, growing louder as the person descending the steps drew closer. Kelly, still frozen in place from fear dared not turn her head, nor twist her body. Her view was blocked by her own arms, pinned to the side of her face. The steps were slowly growing closer until she heard the sound of shoes coming to rest on the peeling concrete floor. She could feel Gabriel's eyes rolling over her back in disdain. He stepped forward and around to face her, standing a few inches away from her suspended body. Kelly did her best to control her breathing; every breath brought her breasts uncomfortably close to him.

"I see that you chose to fight me, eh?" Gabriel said in slightly broken English, and in the softest tone she had yet heard from him. It was calm, collected and nothing like the anger he had displayed upstairs. Kelly kept her mouth closed, but her eyes expressed her quandary -- she wasn't sure what he was talking about. "Do you like my little trap?" he inquired. Out of view, he kicked at the loose, peeling concrete, propelling little shards onto the tips of her boots. "Ingenious, eh?"

Gabriel stepped stepped back. He pulled a small remote from his pocket and repeatedly tossed it in the air like a baseball. "You standing on a pressure plate... it buried into the floor." Someplace in the back of her mind, Kelly replayed the scenario of this "trap" as he explained it. "If you resist the chain, the motor goes on, pulling you up and up and..." he said in a sing-song expression, simultaneously raising his hands. "Well, you get the idea... And you see what happens, eh?" Gabriel smirked a little bit. "Most girls figure that out quickly..." He took a long pause, reached into his pocket and retrieved a pack of Marlboro cigarettes from his coat pocket. "But you," he frowned, "maybe you not so smart..." He pulled a cigarette from the box, returned to the pack to his coat pocket and retrieved a lighter in one seamless stroke. Gabriel stepped close to her, then flicked the cover open, the struck his thumb over the igniter and lit the cigarette. Kelly's eyes focused on the burning end, a few inches from her face. Kelly had half expected him to blow the smoke directly into her face, but he pursed his lips and blew a column of smoke from the corner of his mouth.

Gabriel stepped away again, this time turning his back to her. He stretched out his arm with the remote in his hand, aiming toward the workbench. He pushed a button. Across the basement, the winch beeped, activated and lowered Kelly back to the floor. Quietly, she sighed through parted lips, trying not to give any indication of her relief. She was still careful to keep her arms high above her head, just in case the pressure sensor beneath her feet was still activate. "Don't worry... the trap, she's off."

Gabriel turned and approached her again. He held the envelope in one hand instead of the remote. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, then said, "So... what... am... I... go... ing.. to... do... with... a... no... sy... lit... tle... girl... like... you... eh?" thumping out each syllable with the end of the envelope on Kelly's forehead, while breathing out smoke. He was obviously still annoyed with the open envelope, but outwardly less so now. He paused, took another drag from his cigarette, then asked, "Did you read it, eh?" He paused again, this time flicking ashes from the end of his cigarette at her. It hit her corset and disintegrated into tiny flakes, all of it falling between her boots. "I asked, did you read my message?"

This was the first time Gabriel had asked her a direct question. In her mind, a sentence from her Master's letter flashed: ...you are to follow his instructions as if I have given them to you directly.

"Yes, Master! I read your message... I'm sorry, I..." With a surprised look on his face, Gabriel thrusted backward. "Do you wear glasses? ...Contacts maybe, eh? Do I look like your Master? Do I even resemble Him in even the tiniest way?" Clearly, Gabriel didn't. They were about the same height, but that was the closet thing they had in common. Her Master was refined... A gentlemen even. Gabriel was a perfect opposite. His breath stunk of bourbon and coffee, and he had this acrid smell of hair products that enveloped him like an unseen cloud. He also seemed to have absolutely no refinement to him whatsoever. And clearly, he seemed much crueler.

Risking responding to the question, Kelly started, "I was instructed to obey you as if my Master commanded me Himself." She raced through the sentence as fast as she could, trying not to be cut off again.

"I..." he replied. "I!" He took another drag from his cigarette, then dropped it to the floor. "THERE IS NO -- 'I' -- HERE!" he screamed, nearly loud enough to shake free more dust trapped in the rafters. He slammed his foot down on the burning cigarette, snuffing its life out. To be sure, he ground the end of his toe into it. Looking down, Kelly saw flakes of rolling paper and ash where his toe had been.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked calmly. Kelly shook her head no. "If I address you, you respond!" He reached up and grabbed her by the jaw and said in a stronger tone, "Do you know why you are here?" He didn't give her the chance to reply, then added, "You read my message, didn't you? The reason why was right there -- in black and white!"

Kelly went blank. She remembered the limousine... the hotel room... sitting at the end the bed, opening the box, even accidentally opening Gabriel's message... But whatever the message had said was gone... blanked out, matching the expression across her face.

"Mas... Sir... I don't remember" she managed to articulate with Gabriel's fingers digging into her jaw.

"'I'?" Gabriel blurted out, squeezing tighter.

Kelly quickly corrected herself and said, "This sub doesn't remember what your message said, Sir!"

"Ah... 'sub' is it now, eh?" Gabriel managed to squeeze a little tighter. He twisted her completely around, pointing her face toward the cove under the stairs. "What is that?"

"A bed, Sir!" He twisted her around back, and pointed her face to the center of the room.

"And that? What is that, eh?!?"

"A barber's chair, Sir!"

He centered her head again and looked her directly in the eye. His hand slipped to her throat and squeezed hard. "And what are these? What do they have in common -- 'sub'?"

Struggling to speak, Kelly squeaked out, "Things, Sir... Property?... Your... property... Sir?..."

Gabriel released his grip. "Yes... Property! Things that I own... Hmm... maybe you not as dumb as I thought..." Kelly barely heard his acknowledgement over the ragged breaths she took. "You are my property. Your Master has entrusted me with... you. He has asked me to remind you a few disciplinary requirements of His you seem to have forgotten." Gabriel reached up and unlocked the padlock from the dangling chain. With her hands at her waist, he freed her wrists as well.

He turned his back to her, and for a split second, she had the urge to run for the stairs and escape. But she remained still and stood silently rubbing her wrists where the handcuffs had dug into her. Gabriel disappeared into a corner and quickly returned with a riding crop.

"Kneel" he said. Slowly, Kelly bent one knee, then the other. She was settling into place as the crop cut the air and landed on her thigh. "Faster!" She quickly settled onto her knees. Before this stranger, a sense of modesty took over and she folded her hands between her legs.

"No!" and the crop came down on her other thigh. "Kneel -- Position Number 1!" Kelly quickly searched her memories for what that meant. She spread her knees wide then placed her hands laying on her thighs, palms up. He walked in a complete circle around her, testing where her eyes focused. She had been taught to look forward, not particularly focused on anything... Gabriel tapped her ass with the end of the crop, then added, "Knees wider!... Better!"

"Position Number 2!" Kelly quickly planted her hands out in front of her, forming an arrow of her arms and thrust her ass into the air. Gabriel continued to walk around her splayed body in a tight circle, stepping over her arms.

"Position Number 3!" Kelly sprung into a doggie-style position, her hands shoulder width apart, her back arched and her ass pushed up in the air. Gabriel would slap at her inner thighs, indicating she should spread her legs wider.

Gabriel circled her like a predator. He would announce command numbers and Kelly would spring into the appropriate form. This continued on and on, drilling her in all her in all ten positions like Marine bootcamp. At first, Gabriel would called numbers in order, then he switched to randomly commanding positions. She would stumble occasionally, but the end of his riding crop would quickly remind her of the misstep. After what seemed like two hours of hard drilling, Kelly's palms and joints were riddled with indentations from the crumbling concrete, but she had finally proven to Gabriel that she knew her numbered positions perfectly.

Gabriel settled Kelly into Position Number 1. After what was effectively a calisthenics workout, her breathing was difficult. The corset around her torso restricted breathing. Releasing some of that pressure would be as simple as loosening the laces running up her spine. Even with Gabriel's back turned, breaking form to adjust her laces would have been an unwise decision.

Gabriel turned to face her as she regained control of her rapid breathing. He stepped up and stood with his feet together, his toes between her spread knees. Trapped between his thumbs, he held the gold-leaf envelope again. His entire focus was on the words written on the card. Shifting his focus to Kelly's face, he grasped the card and envelope in one hand and absentmindedly tapped it against the thumb of his other hand. She could feel his gaze upon her, but being positioned meant not responding his glare. All he did was stand there, stare down at her, lightly rapping the envelope and card. Gabriel continued evaluating her positioning, looking for any error or voluntary movement. Although Kelly's breathing was now much less labored, her sense of tension was rising at his minute inspection. Gabriel continued to hover over her for an additional five minutes.

Apparently satisfied, he stepped back from her and walked over to the workbench. He threw back the heavy canvas cloak, hurling it against the wall. It hit with a resounding thud, then fell to the floor. He went to work preparing something; whatever Gabriel was doing was obscured by his body. From her periphery, Kelly could see his arms lift, rise and stir something yet seen.

Walking back to Kelly, he tossed three coils of rope into the seat of the barber's chair. In his calm yet gruff voice, Gabriel said, "Stand up." With no hesitation, Kelly quickly stood. Gabriel grabbed her arm at the elbow and ruffly guided her to the barber's chair in the center of the room. He picked up the rope coils, then ordered, "Sit." Kelly sat, her knees tightly together and her hands in her lap, fingers laced together in an attempt to cover her exposed pussy. This drew another look of disdain from Gabriel, but he said nothing. He dropped the coils of rope at his feet, then grabbed her right leg and swung it over the right armrest of the chair. Reaching behind him, he grabbed one of the coils and began to wrap the rope over her calf and through the support struts of the armrest. He looped the rope around the open space between, completing a column tie. He reached for a second coil and repeated the tie for her left leg. When Gabriel completed the left leg, he stood up and inspected the rope bindings in the same manner he had been inspecting her all night.

With her legs tied and splayed open, Kelly had let her folded hands fall between her legs, obscuring her sex. Picking up the third coil of rope, Gabriel grumbled to himself. He stepped behind Kelly, then harshly pulled her arms over the backrest. She laced her fingers again as he began to wrap rope around her elbows, drawing them painfully close together. He drew the long lead to her wrists and bound them so that they touched. Slipping the remainder of the rope between her now open hands, he tied it someplace to the back of the chair. The tie gave Kelly no slack and forced her arms to be straight, useless rods. Gabriel stepped around and faced her, inspecting his rope-work like an artisan craftsman. Kelly glanced up at his face and caught the tail-end of a satisfied sadistic smile. Gabriel's smile quickly disappeared when he realized she was looking up at him. Grumbling again, he stepped to the back of the chair, then released a few metal catches. Using his weight, he propelled the backrest forward as heavy ratchets clanked against geared teeth in some internal mechanism. Kelly's torso was pushed forward, her legs were compressed and folded tighter at the knee, and her arms were forced into an uncomfortable angle. Gabriel locked the chair in this position, then stepped around to the front again. The discomfort in Kelly's arms screamed into her mind, catering directly to her masochistic desires for pain. She sucked it all in and relished it! In her mind, images of nights with her Master began to materialize. The imaginary further excited her... times when He had sated her love for extreme ties, forcing her into positions that could only be experienced tied and restrained. As those flashback images flowed into her conscious mind, Kelly completely escaped the reality of where she was. Her eyelids softly shut as the movies from her past continued to play.

In her momentary absence, Kelly had not noticed Gabriel's movements. He stood in front of her, eyes fixed on her cunt. Moving the backrest forward had pushed her ass to the edge of the seat, leaving her pussy hanging over the edge. Gabriel nodded, satisfied that his chair adjustments were perfect. But, looked closely at exposed lips and noticed her lips were flowering, the beginnings of dew making them glisten in the poor basement lighting. A droplet formed and dripped onto the crumbling floor.

Kelly was abruptly returned to the here and now with a hard slap across her the face. As she centered her head and recovered, a mere moment of exhilaration crossed her face. Before she could completely shake the memories, the air flowing unencumbered into her lungs was cut off. Gabriel had his hand tight around her throat, trapping her windpipe and suppressing the blood flow to her head. She forced her eyes open to see his eyes glaring into her a few inches away from her face.