Ruby

 

 

 

I want to scream, but I can't. My mouth is stuffed with a piece of cloth. It‘s tied at the back of my head in a knot and drenched with my saliva. I've seen this in movies, but I've never been in this predicament. None of my former clients were into gag balls or anything like that.

I'm feeling dizzy and a little nauseous. The ceiling above me appears to be turning and moving, and I know if I was standing up, I wouldn't be able to keep my balance.

It takes me a few moments to realize that my hands and legs are tied, too. I'm spread out on a wooden surface, my limbs stretched in all four directions like a star. I yank at the restraints, even though I know how pointless it is.

Panic rises in my chest, quickly expanding to my core, my head, my limbs. A nervous tremor oscillates through my entire body, and all attempts to calm myself are futile.

I signed up for this, I knew it was coming - why am I so shocked? So scared? Why am I breaking out in a sweat and about to hyperventilate? Did I underestimate the contents of the contract I signed? Was I really that stupid?

My breathing accelerates, and I'm moaning helplessly as I try to speak. All I'm able to produce are unintelligible sounds, as I soak the cloth further with my saliva. I turn my head, trying to see if he's in here with me, but my radius of movement is so limited that I can only perceive a very small area directly around my head. He's nowhere to be seen.

But I know he's in here. I can sense his presence, and when I manage to calm my heavy breathing at least somewhat, I can hear him moving. I try to lift my head, but only manage to so for a split second before vertigo pushes me back down.

"Careful there," I hear a strong voice warning me, after my head connects with the wooden plate. I can barely see him, but I know he's standing at the far end of the room, and he’s now approaching me with calm, deliberate steps. I'm surrounded by dark colors, a warm red and a cold gray. They’re blurry in my intoxicated vision. Despite the limitations blinding my senses, I can tell that this is some kind of sex dungeon, a room that serves only one purpose. I'm tied on a stretching bank, something I have only seen on-screen before. None of my previous clients ever used one of these on me, albeit I have been in similar rooms. They were never this big, and never this intimidating.

My heart is racing as I hear him coming closer. I'm torn between actual fright and excitement. I've been looking forward to this just as much as I have feared it. I wanted this. I thought I needed it.

But now that I'm here, I can't help but hear the doubts screaming at the top of their lungs in my head, as they try to overpower the sick little girl who's still excited about this.

I'm panting when his face appears above mine. He's no longer wearing his suit, at least not on the upper part of his body. Instead, he's teasing me with a view of his naked, chiseled chest. He can tell that I'm staring, and he loves watching me as I take in the view of his toned muscles. My eyes are glued on the tanned skin that stretches above his brawny chest, yearning, as I follow the black lines of a tribal tattoo adorning his left side all the way to his strong upper arm.

"Naughty girl," he says, and a smug smile appears on his face. "Too busy leering at me, you almost forgot to be scared."

My eyes scurry to the darkness of his. I flinch when he leans down, bringing his face close to mine, and removing his marvelous chest from my sight.

"Can you promise me something?" he asks in a low and daunting voice, placing his hands at each side of my face.

I bite on the cloth and let out a pathetic croak as I try to answer. A simple nod will have to do.

"You won't scream when I take this off," he continues, yanking at the cloth on both sides, almost choking me. "I'm going to take this off, and you'll be quiet like a good girl and listen to me. Do you understand?"

Another nod, and just a moment later, I'm freed of that fucking cloth, finally able to close my mouth to relax my face from that painful grimace I was forced to wear. I won’t scream because I know there's no point. We're playing a game, all right, but I won't risk losing my voice or strength through something as silly as screaming.

Besides, I'd much rather hear what he has to tell me. I like this. I like the tension of not knowing what's next, and I like looking at his handsome face as he threatens me. I know it's all a game and I have nothing to fear for real, but he sure as hell is making this feel real.

I should try my best to make him feel the same way.

He pulls the cloth down, but leaves it draped around my neck, observing me while I take in a deep breath of relief and press my lips together like I haven't been able to do for such a long time.

"Good girl."

This praise. Those words always have the same effect on me. They make my heart flutter with pride and accomplishment, and an arousal that is still so weird to me, even after all those times I've felt it.

Our eyes lock onto each other for a moment. He doesn't look happy. If anything, he looks unsure and doubtful. Is he unhappy with me? Is he regretting buying me already? What am I doing wrong?

"You're a special one, aren't you?"

His question baffles me. What am I supposed to say to this? Now that I'm finally here, in his hands, in this cage, as his possession, I finally begin to realize the scope of my commitment. With previous clients, it's always been simple. We usually met up at a bar or hotel, and as soon as I was alone with them, they started barking commands at me. They never cared much for conversation or tested my skills as an actress. I just reacted to whatever they did to me.

This is harder than I thought it would be.

"Sir, I'm-"

"Don't call me that," he snarls, cutting me off. He reaches for my throat and closes his hand around it, choking me just enough to send a rush vibrating through my core. "I'm not your fucking Sir."

I want to respond, but he's making it impossible for me to breathe, let alone speak. A croak is all I can produce.

I've almost always been told to address my clients as Sir. I don't know if it gave them a sense of class or legitimacy or if they just lacked the creativity to come up with an alternative, but it was always the one word they wanted, if they chose a title to begin with. And I just went with it.

"Now, you'll just listen to me for a while, little girl, do you understand?"

He lets go of my throat, leaving me coughing and gasping for air.

"Do you understand?" he repeats his question, and this time I find myself able to give him a proper response.

"Yes, s-" I start, stopping myself just in time. "Yes. I understand."

"This is how things will go from now on," he continues. "You're mine now. You'll stay in here, in this room, and you'll do whatever I ask of you. There won't be any back-talk, and you won't try to get out of this, because I can guarantee you, you'll regret it."

He stops, observing my expression as I listen to him.

I nod. "Yes."

He furls his eyebrows.

"Yes?" he mirrors my response. "That's all you have to say?"

He snorts and straightens up. I watch in confusion as he begins pacing up and down the room, rubbing his temples and shaking his head. I lift my head so my eyes can follow his movement, and this time my body doesn't betray me. The drug he injected is slowly wearing off.

"You really don't understand, do you?" he asks, adding a snide chuckle. "You really don't understand your fucking situation, do you?"

He comes back to me, positioning himself right next to my head, again captivating me with his marvelous physique.

"Up here, slut," he barks, and I yelp when he surprises me with a pinch to my cheek. "You're too busy lusting after someone you should be afraid of."

I bite my lower lip.

"I am afraid," I whimper. "Please... let me go."

He looks at me with disgust. I can't even blame him. My words lack conviction. Even I don't believe them.

I yank at my restraints because I don't know what else to do, what else to say.

"You'll understand soon enough," he says, and before I can even begin to contemplate a response, he turns away from me, switching off the light and leaving me alone and in complete darkness as he leaves the room.

This is when it truly starts to feel real.