Hard to Tell

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The internal debate on consent.
928 words
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A pale naked woman sits in the centre of a brown leather couch in a dim room. Her legs are spread, and thick hemp rope has been used to secure her feet to the small dark wooden legs at each end of the couch. Her hands are bound together with more rope, then secured to the ceiling, arms pulled high above her head.

She looks around the room, struggles half-heartedly to free herself from the rope. We see a close up of her small hands, tied tightly together, chipped luminous green nail polish dazzling in its imperfection. She smiles and says something we can't hear to a person off camera. She looks young. 18, 19.

A man dressed in overalls suddenly appears from the left of screen carrying a large white vibrator. He places its head on the woman's clitoris and she jolts violently as the contact is made. Her torso bucks and she seems to scream and giggle at the same time, but her hands and feet are tied tightly, and though we can see the strain in the tendons in her thighs and triceps, she is going nowhere. After about 30 seconds, her breathing regulates, her struggles lessen and she settles into the rhythm of the play. Her moans become louder, more intense as the contact continues. A smile plays around her lips, her dark eyes close. Finally after a few minutes of working herself onto the vibrator she climaxes, softly hyperventilating and looks smolderingly at the camera, but with eyes that lie.

Cut.

The same girl lies face down on a hard, unfinished wooden floor. Her hands are tied together tightly behind her back with rope, and are then lashed tightly to her feet which are drawn up around her buttocks and also tied tightly together. Two or three inches of rope separate hands and feet. She moans softly through a large red rubber ball, which looks to be attached to a black leather cowl and is fastened tightly at the back of her head.

Now it appears that the girl is crying, her eyes moist and red, her mascara running in murky river tracks down her cheeks.

The camera lingers on her for a while, letting you drink in the fear. She rocks slowly from side to side on her little belly. Not a struggle, not quite.

Once again overall man appears from stage left roughly rolling her over. She would have made it all the way to her back if her bound arms and legs hadn't stopped her momentum. She settles on her side and again the vibrator makes an appearance, its small motor initially drowned out by the shrieks, but they don't last and eventually she settles. Her moans come softly through her gag, quickening as she climaxes and the shot rests on a close up of her brown eyes. Beautiful, defeated, shamed.

Cut.

The girl is on her knees, with her back hard against a rough, square wooden pillar of about six inches on each side. Her arms extend straight out behind her, one on either side of the pillar, putting pressure on her shoulder joints. From a shot behind the pillar you see her wrists are tied together and fixed to a metal hook that prevents her arms from dropping, ensuring her shoulders stay taut. You see that her feet are tied together, curled on the floor so the skin on her soles wrinkles. Her hair is wet, there is no makeup and she makes no sound. A scarf has been tied around her head, a large knot in the centre of it placed in her mouth.

The man in the overalls approaches her. Kneels beside her. This time working her pussy with his fingers. It appears that the vibrator has taken all the fight from her, she makes no sound as he somewhat gruffly, somewhat clumsily pleasures her. Her head drops. There are no sounds, no histrionics. When he stops, she looks up at him. She may or may not have come.

Cut.

The girl sits clad in white towelling bathrobe, on the brown couch again. Her hair is wet, and there is no trace of her makeup left. Her eyes look sad, and her smile is tired. A voice off camera asks her a question. Did you enjoy herself? Oh yeah. What part of it did you like the best? Um, I think just the feeling of helplessness... and when you made me come... and come... and come... she giggles. So will you come back and see us again? Oh my god yes. She looks at the camera and smiles, gives a little girly wave.

Cut.

And so to you our humble reader. Why are you still here? In judgement? Oh yes, there are places in my mind that you don't ever want to go. How did you find me? Were you trawling, reading story after story riddled with ridiculous spelling mistakes until you found my little ditty? Did your pulse quicken when the words hit you? Were you looking for something to make your dick hard or your knickers wet? Or did somebody send a link to your email or your Facebook? An escape from the relationship you're in that fills you with everything but excitement?

Or are you the chosen one, the devil incarnate who'd happily spend a few days tied to masters bed bending to his every whim before leaving him with his life of misery, his wife and the screaming kids?

It's hard to tell, and it isn't going to get any easier.

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2 Comments
Scotsman69Scotsman69over 13 years ago
I'm none of the above

but I did find your story both interesting and well-written. Cinema in words however has its limits, and these restricted your story.

AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
Disturbing

Your submission raises any number of important points about the BDSM ethos. Well-presented, I gave it 4 *s, and it possibly deserves 5.

I shall consider this and, if I may, write to you personally about this piece; would that be acceptable to you?

Thank you for a most interesting POV.

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