Page 144 of The Naughtier List
I pull on my chains, and they rattle but don’t budge.
“Hello?” I say after a while. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
Silence.
I spin again, not sure which is this way, or that, and my mind begins to spin with me, coming up with crazy scenarios. Maybe this isn’t a real proposal and I’m in some kind of psycho movie. Or things have gone wrong, and I’ve been kidnapped. I tell myself to stop being ridiculous. These are the founders, and this is a proposal. An Agency proposal, just like all the others. It’s my mind playing tricks on me, and I know it. And so are they… they are playing with me, too.
It makes sense now. That’s the point, isn’t it? The realisation clicks like a switch.
It’s part of the game. And I’m playing, too. I’m Holly here… not lost little Ella. It’s time to start doing that justice.
I take deep breaths and steady myself as best I can, and I embrace the cold chill. My nipples must be like bullets. My skin will be so sensitive when the clients finally arrive.
I imagine warm, rough hands on me, and the sting of whips, and the pain of paddles, crops and canes. I think of cocks forcing their way inside me. My pussy, my ass, stretching, thrusting, hurting – and it excites me.
I want it to start. I want to be a pain slut. I want it all…
“Please,” I say to the silence. “Please, come and use me. I want to serve you.”
Still nothing, so I raise my voice.
“Please! Come and use me. I need to be hurt. I’m desperate.”
I arch myself to show off my tits. I moan in the shackles, knowing full well I’m on display. I’m being watched.
“I’m not here for the money,” I say to the emptiness. “I’m here because I’m a slut who needs to give service. Please let me serve you. Please let me hurt for you. I need this.”
I wish I could play with myself like I did in the back of the car, but I can’t, so I thrust my hips, imagining, clenching my thighs.
“Please,” I say, my ankle shackles rattling as I do my best to buck on my tiptoes. “I know you’re watching… I know you want me.”
Silence. Just my panted breaths.
“Please?” my plea echoes around me.
Finally, I hear a door open. There are no voices, just a steady stream of incoming footsteps.
“Please, yes!” I say. “Make me serve. I’ll take it all, I promise.”
“That’s a very serious promise,” a voice replies, cold and deep. I feel a man approach me from the front, I hear his footsteps. I feel the electricity of his body standing before mine.
“I know it’s a serious promise,” I say, “but I mean it. I can show you. Just give me the chance.”
A circle of people take place around me, their footsteps shuffling, and their breaths breaking into the silence, even through my hood. I tip my head back, and let the chains take my full weight, swaying in invitation. My stance says more than my words can. My body is on offer. I’m a filthy toy for their hardcore pleasure. A blank canvas, desperate to be painted by pain.
“We’ve heard about your pain slut talent,” the voice says, and I note the heard not read.
He must be talking about the dungeon master of a client I played with. I smile at the memory.
“Then you must know I really am a desperate submissive who can take it.”
“It?”
“Anything,” I tell him, “whatever your pleasure is, I’ll take it.”
He laughs at that and so does someone else.
“We don’t extend our invitations lightly, Holly.”