The Closet

THE CLOSET

Part Two

       The bitter aroma, the acrid taste, squinting while she grunts she finds herself painfully secured in leather bindings as she regains consciousness.  Shoulders throbbing as she hears fading footsteps, a door opening then shutting out of sight behind her, arms bound together at the elbows and wrists tautly stretched behind her back, thighs spread widely apart on what best could be described as some sort of chair frame she’s being forced to do the splits on; even as she tries to twist, shake her head from side to side she quickly realizes she’s in an immobile bondage, a tight, painful bondage not unlike those girls in most of those other photos from the closet.

Drool dripping from either side of the hard rubber ‘O’ ring stretching her lips into an almost perfect oval between the straps encircling her face, even as she coughs she senses her body forced into a contorted painful configuration with her head held firm in that harness.  Chest arched outward, her breasts thrust almost painfully apart, she also realizes she’s still completely naked in the nearly pitch black room.

       Eyes darting, trying to glance around, glaring past the straps toward her left shoulder, her right, all into the darkness, trying to move, to squirm free, the pain escalates in her wrists, her ankles.  A forced deep inhalation, still the stifling aftermath of whatever chemical was used to awaken her, sensing mucus mixing with her saliva as it streaks off her chin to cling between her bare breasts she can sense the pounding heartbeat in her chest, the twitching of her breasts jaunting away from one another, the firm mounds forced to stand upright from the tightness of the straps binding her shoulders into such a painful arch behind her back.

       Another forced breath and cough, another followed by yet another as she tenses, squirms, she senses only her breast’s movements, jiggling, swaying.  Thoughts quickly ranging from bewilderment to anger, to trepidation, then anxiously of the closet with the contents of the albums, she faces the reality she’s about to start filling her own series of horrendous photos.

       Blinking, squinting, blinking again to try to focus her eyes as the darkness becomes blurs of deep shadows, the room almost takes form, a room of dark, curtained walls, ominously of little or no other furniture.  Scraping the tips of her toes across the floor on either side of the anything but comfortable chair, obviously uncarpeted hardwood beneath her feet, her fingers twisting, curling into fists as her bindings dig deeper into her already chaffed wrists, more painful breaths with her futile contortions, she frustratingly tries to relieve some of the pain, to slump back, to find a way to adjust to a more tolerable position.

A couple measured breaths, her mind slowly clearing, remembering, she recalls him entering the bedroom, stepping to the open closet door, that look on his face, that look of contempt, even of superiority as he slowly nodded his head in disappointment while entering the closet.  Her heart pounds even harder as she seems to be able to see the cloth in his hand again, the time seeming to be frozen while he almost calmly pressed it out across her face as she for whatever reason could only hesitate, grab feebly for her towel, attempt to halfheartedly turn away.  Her thoughts returning to the present, to the continuous pain, but for now just the bearable kind of pain in her joints with her shoulders aching, hips burning, she tilts her head forward, her eyes darting downward trying to catch a glimpse of her jiggling breasts.

Staring, squinting, barely making out the silhouettes of those firm mounds standing upright, a sort of relief, at least momentary relief crosses her mind as she attempts to tilt her face forward.  Realizing as obscenely thrust out her breasts appear while she glances from one side to the other, they also appear to be unmarred in the shadows, at least for now.  Pressing her head further forward in the stretching leather straps, trying to see down past her sternum, to her impossibly spread, aching thighs, she comprehends its useless for her to try to crane any further, her bowed chest concealing her lower body as the drool trickles past her hollowing stomach.

Once more sitting upright as much as possible, again squirming to somehow, someway find a tolerable position to maybe relieve just the harshest of the annoying pain throbbing throughout her contorted body, she stares into the darkness, waits, anxiously anticipates what’s in store as she can’t help recalling photo after graphic photo of the different girls, their common denominator being tortured breasts, breasts like hers that’s being forced so obscenely outward right now.  Seconds seeming like minutes, minutes more like hours, the quietness only adds to her escalating anxiety.  A series of deep, irregular breaths as she again squirms, more morbid thoughts of the closet, the photos, the brutal pain inflicted on the girls, especially their breasts.

Just as she feels the tears flowing down her cheeks, a light flicks on from above, bright, harsh illumination of the barren room.  Eyes squinting, she hears the door opening from behind, senses the footsteps approaching as the door obviously shuts.  Feeling hands softly applied on her shoulders, tips of fingers gliding up the curvature of her neck, caressing her earlobes, she continues to squint straight ahead to adjust to the light while holding her breath.  Sensing the hands sliding back down her throat, trace across her shoulder blades, lightly roam over the upper curves of her firm breasts shoved upward, she glances down, watches his fingertips circle her smoothly flat areolas, their nubs jiggling as they point away from one another.

The sensation of his breath on the nape of her neck, hesitantly exhaling herself, still anxiously focusing on his fingernails twirling around her nipples now seemingly instantly puckering, involuntarily responding to his touch even as she notices a sliver of her drool tracing from one breast to the other, she senses his body pressing against her bound arms, her clenched hands about even height with his crotch as he casually steps around the chair, centers his hands above her breasts.

‘You just had to disobey, didn’t you?  The curiosity was just too much, just like all the others.’

His voice firm as usual, but now almost condescending, she remains silent, watches his perfectly manicured nails curling, positioning to obviously burrow into the hardening nipples of those thrust out breasts standing out between them that almost seems not to be hers.

‘You opened the trunk, helped yourself to my private collections.  Ignored my privacy like all the other girls.’

Still remaining silent, the overall body aches, pains now in the back of her mind, the initial twinge of his nails pressing closer together, the nubs swelling, bulging as he tugs not so gently outwards, she watches as her breasts are wrenched to nearly chin level, almost unrecognizably large, almost perfectly round and overly firm from her state of bondage.

‘You saw the photos, all the photos.  I know, I saw the albums on the closet’s floor, all out of order, disheveled.  You showed no respect for my property.’  His voice in a familiar scolding tone.  ‘No respect for my property or my privacy.  None at all, you disrespected me, didn’t you?’

Almost trancelike staring, sensing her nipples throbbing in his clutches even as she listens, focusing on the tips of his fingernails beginning to sink into the tan nubs, inhaling, holding her breath, the pain becoming harsher, almost burning as his fingers and thumbs start to noticeably slip back and forth, back and forth ever so slowly, almost deviously, causing her breasts to painfully rotate simultaneously as they’re held up between them, she hears her own beseeching gurgling grunts through the gag as she obediently nods her chin arbitrarily up and down to hopefully somehow appease him.

‘Well, I think you in the least owe me an apology.  Then again, I think you should also be chastised physically, don’t you?  Yes, I think we need to focus on these breasts for the moment, really focus on them for your punishment, teach you a lesson, it’s time you started knowing your place.’  Eyes momentarily darting from her breasts to his eyes, then just as quickly back to her breasts, she reflexively twitches as he continues his admonishment.  ‘Maybe even with some of the implements you were so interested in seeing.  But then again, that’s after we soften these nipples up some with my nails.’

Reflexively attempting to bow her back, barely able to arch foreword in the taut bindings as her breasts stretch further outward in his clutches, the pain nearly excruciating as he works his fingernails back and forth into her titflesh while scolding her, her head twisting from side to side in the firm straps, fists clenching, toes curling, again mumbled gargles escape the ‘O’ ring as the tears mount, trickle off her cheeks.

A few more agonizing twists, his fingers finally slipping away, her breasts bounce, jiggle to a standstill, the nipples swollen, the indentations from his fingernails crimson tinged.  Another pleading glance up toward him, his condescending smirk as his hands raise past her shoulders, she senses the Velcro mounted to the straps rising past either side of her face separating as his fingers shut the flaps across her eyes.  Darkness, the leather flaps pressing across the bridge of her nose, the dread of being blinded to whatever he has in store for her spreads throughout her body as she tenses, squirms.

‘Now meditate for a moment or so before we start working every inch of these titties, just sit and wait, sit and try to recall all the ways I implemented pain in those photos you just had to see.  You’re going to experience what their pain felt like for disobeying me in the next couple hours.  You’re also going to learn to obey, too.’

Near silence after his comments, just the sound of fading footsteps, the door opening, shutting, she senses the dread, feels the anxiety of his threats.  Quiet, total quiet and darkness, the relentless pain returning to her shoulders, legs, her head held firm in those straps, her body contorted as the tips of both nipples throb with each heartbeat, she can only wait, helpless.

Again unmeasured time, just mounting anxiety, she tries to listen, to hear anything besides her own heartbeat, wait for the dreaded sound of the door reopening behind her.  The dampness of her drool trickling down between her breasts, sensing it collecting between her spread thighs, even as she waits what’s next she’s struck by the thought that she can only imagine being photographed in such a humiliating pose.

‘Thwack’

A startling, stinging pain across a bare nipple, her body lurches as she grunts, spews saliva from the ‘O’ ring.  What seems like a flashing brilliance, eyes blinking in the otherwise darkness behind the leather flaps, the searing sensation of the tip of her thrust out breast being so suddenly struck, she coughs, rasps for breath.  Tensing, fists clenching behind her back, toenails curling, scraping the bare floor on either side of the creaking chair, again all the other aches seem to fade compared to the throbbing of her breast.  Moans, a grunting unintelligible plead though the drenched ‘O’ ring, she feels her breasts swaying, jiggling as her stomach ripples with each gasping breath.

‘Snap.’

Lurching forward once more in her restraints, her breasts jaunting reflexively outward, the other nipple feeling the full brunt of a split-tailed leather crop, her neck cranes as the straps holding her head in place burrow across her face.  Sensing that other similar electrical type flash of light across her eyes in the darkness, both breasts throb as the welted nipples quickly jiggle to a standstill.

Thoughts swirling, struggling for breath as her nostrials flair above her perched lips stretched so severely around the mouth gag, mucus mixing with traces of tears, drools of saliva, she ignores the sticking trails of her bodily fluids crisscrossing her sternum, tracing over the rounded sloops of her thrust out breasts.  Each escalating heartbeat corresponding with searing throbs of both nipples, she can only imagine which crop she’s seen in those photos that she’s being flogged with.  Trying somehow to compose herself, bracing for the whip to borrow into her titflesh yet again, her glistening body tenses, arches forward in the taut straps.  The bindings seeming ever tighter, her chaffing wrists twist back and forth in their restraints as she inhales, exhales, inhales again and holds her breath.

Then, comes that deafening silence as the seconds, then minutes slowly pass, the agonizing darkness and isolation with no way to measure an accurate amount of time.  She braces with each purged exhalation, quickly sucks in another rasping breath only to hold it for however long possible, waiting for the searing pain to be inflicted across her sensitive flesh yet again.  Breasts not throbbing as much as she hears the rushing in her ears, the pounding of each heartbeat, she waits, senses her nipples twitching in aching anticipation of the lash that’s bound to come yet again, sooner or later, to inflict more pain.

Something cool, a chilling gel spreading across a breast, she jerks, tenses.  Another hand melding, manipulating the other aching mound with more soothing gel, she silently moans, senses the caressing fingers being so pleasurable to her breasts even as she wonders how she couldn’t hear him coming back behind her.  Touching, rubbing, yet so carefully circling the bruised nipples, she finds herself almost giving in to the roving fingers after a few moments, somehow not anticipating that threat of imminent pain.  Sensing the gel liquefying even as mores’ added, the lotion dripping off the tips of her nipples as her breasts are worked, carefully melded into firm, round mounds only to be contorted outward, pressed together ever so gently, she feels the goose bumps across her bare flesh, the uncontrollable responses of her manipulated melons.

‘We want these to stay soft, yet firm, unmarred mounds that’s smooth, pliable, don’t we?’

Hearing his voice, as soothing as his hands melding her breasts, she moans through the ‘O’ ring in acknowledgement, most to appease him, but also partly in obvious pleasure.

‘We don’t want permanent noticeable harm, just something to help you along in understanding what I expect of you.  Something to keep you focused, in line.’

Still closely following his voice as his fingers slip outward to circle the tips of both nipples, the pain becoming more of a kind of strange ache as its not his nails but the nubs of his fingertips pressing inward for a slippery grip, gently tugging across the drenched flesh, she senses her breasts continuing to respond to his touch as she briefly nods against the straps.

A finger trailing away from a nipple, tracing around the glistening mound onto the sternum, down the path of dripping lotion across the curvature of her ribcage to the hollow of her rippling stomach, the sensations of that finger burrowing into her flexing navel and the other still manipulating a nipple, she presses her torso outward to accept his touch.

The grunts now almost quiet, anticipating moans through the ‘O’ ring, the lower finger circling her waxed pubic mound, the tip of the finger flicking across the spread folds of her labium, onto the nub of her moistening clit, her naked body trembles, tenses, arches outward against the straps.

‘You have a decision to make that’s only going to affect you, so listen as I continue.’

Widely stretched thighs already quivering, sensing his finger flicking back and forth across her responding clit, his thumb pressing across the slender flesh separating her rectum and vagina, she blinks, squints into the leather encasing her eyes, senses her body giving in even more to his touches.

‘You’re going to be punished.  Your breasts especially, they’ll be bruised, sore for awhile after I’m done to say the least.  Now, you can be contrary and be miserable, or you can learn from it and at a point I promise you the pain and pleasure will meld, just like it’s already happening now with your nipple, among other things.  It’s up to you what I allow you to feel, understand?’

Half hearing his soft words as he presses his mouth closer to her ear, the sensation of the tip of his thumb probing into the puckering rim of her rectum as a finger just as gently forges a couple knuckles deep past her clit, his other thumb and finger still tweaking the swelling nipple being tugged on, she can only try to nod as saliva drools from her chin.

‘If you agree to respond the way I expect you to, I’ll open the blinders, take out the mouth gag.  Then I’ll let you participate, even give you choices of the punishment I’m going to inflict on you, your breasts at the moment.  I may even let you cum along the way, especially since I see you’re already so close.  Agree?’

Multiple sensations, her mind swirling in a blur, his thumbs, fingers fully masturbating her squirming body as the warmth of his breath follows his whispers across her earlobe, she finds herself moaning, mumbling, nodding her head in answer as she uncontrollably shivers in the bindings.

END PART TWO   ***More reviews brings more chapters***