December 1, 2009

Six Square Inches

Posted in stories tagged at 4:30 pm by littlesubmissions

“I want you.” She chewed on the words, licked her lips while she deliberately waited, looked at his eyes to make sure his pupils widened and he started breathing faster. “To go into the kitchen, and drink a glass of water. A large glass of water. Then come back here.”

He nodded and walked to the kitchen, shivers making the muscles around his spine clench and spasm. The hiss of the faucet was loud, he choked down large droughts of water quickly, feeling his gut expand and fill. Set the glass in the sink and walked back quickly. Eagerly.

“That was quick.” She was on her knees on the floor, smoothing out a large swath of black cloth, a yard wide and taller than he was. She ran her hand carefully down one edge, correcting a fold, and then looked up at him. Smiled. “Your clothes. You don’t need them.”

He hopped on one foot and yanked off a shoe without bothering to untie it. The other followed and he shucked off his pants and shirt, swallowing hard and standing in front of her, naked. Vulnerable. Exposed. The feeling of embarrassment and insecurity warring with the feeling of pride and power to be naked before her, knowing how much she could make him suffer and still standing there willingly, eagerly.

A popping sound escaped her lips, and she waved at the material on the floor. “Lay down in the middle, on your stomach.”

He stepped onto the center of the blackness, estimated where his head would fall, and dropped down to his hands and knees, then to his stomach, prone on the floor. The cloth wrapped over him as she pulled the edges up and together, rolling the extra cloth into a seam and putting safety pins it, folding the top and bottom of the material and wrapping him up inside.

“You ok?” She spoke loudly, clearly, looking down and licking her lips. Hoping he said yes.

“I feel like a burrito.”

She snorted laughter and punched his side lightly. “That’s not what I asked. Can you breathe all right?”


“Good.” She picked up a roll of duct tape and peeled the edge free. She started at his feet, lifting them up and pushing the tape into the cloth, wrapping it around him until the layers overlapped and stuck to themselves, cinching his legs together and sucking the cloth down tight. “I decided, that I really wanted to be able to focus on whatever part of you I was hurting.” She wrapped another band further up his body, working it down into the crease of his knees, tight, hard, restricting. “And I always enjoy taking away your hands, or your mouth, or eyes or ears. Whatever.” Another loop of tape around his hips, rolling him carefully to work the tape under his stomach, pinning his wrists to his side as she wrapped it around and around and around. “So I’m going to take away everything, and see how that feels.” She refolded the cloth on his upper back that was disturbed from rolling him over, and pulled a long length of tape around his shoulders. “You’re nothing tonight, but the part of you that I’m hurting.” A final loop around his forehead, pulling the cloth tight over his face, a mask with crude features and hot breath pouring out, sucking down tight as he breathed in. “Understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The muffled words made her cunt twitch as she rolled him back over on his stomach and pulled out safety pins, working her way down his body. Wrapped in smooth cloth, a perfect black silhouette laying on the floor, she swallowed hard and picked up a pair of scissors. “But you’re still talking…” She rolled him back over, felt along his face until her fingers found his lips, worked inside them and felt the hard enamel of his teeth. “Hold very, very still.” She worked the point of the scissors into the cloth, carefully cutting small snips, gathering the cloth together with her fingers and shearing it, feeling ahead for the corners of his mouth. “I know, could have done this before, but I wanted to turn you into nothing but a hole.” She shoved the ball gag through the slit in the cloth with the palm of her hand, forced the hard round rubber into his mouth. “And then I wanted to take away that hole.” She pulled the straps around his head, jerked the buckle tight and latched it.

She let the hot, wet air from his nostrils pour through the cloth and wash over her hands, rubbed her warm fingertips over her clit and dragged them over her body. “Grunt three times for your safeword. Let me hear you do it now.”

Three harsh, guttural grunts came from behind the featureless mask, loudly and clearly. Distinct.

She pushed her fingers against the cloth, letting it bounce back and erase the contours of his face. “One more hole to fill.” She pushed him onto his side, found the crease of his ass and worked the tip of the scissors into it, cutting a tear. Her finger slipped through, and she ran it up and down until she felt an opening. She paused, and leaned in close over him, listening to his breath, waiting for him to inhale then shoving her finger inside him, twisting, jerking, moaning at his sharp exhalation and the hot breath pouring through the blackness.

“Both of these are black, by the way. I even bought the black colored duct tape, so I really hope you appreciate my efforts to color coordinate. I mean, you didn’t even notice the new curtains.” She lined up the butt plug with her finger and slid them across each other, pushing the plug through the cloth and into him as her finger slid out, twisting it back and forth and working it further inside him. “That kind of hurt my feelings a little.” She kept pushing, planting her arm in front of his stomach when he started to slide away, watching his legs kick and flinch, shoving and resting, then shoving again until the widest part of the plug slid inside him, sucking the base up firm against his flesh. “There we go.” She arranged the ends of the cloth under the base of the plug, letting it hold the opening and seal it tight against his skin. “Now you’re not even a hole anymore. Which means I just have to decide what I want to hurt first.”

She reached under him and pulled him to his knees, shifted him around until his upper body was resting on the couch, his back almost parallel to the floor. She started a cut along the edge of the duct tape around his shoulders, a six inch long incision on the cloth over his back. She turned the scissors and made two downward cuts a little over an inch long, and then completed the square. Pale, sweating flesh shined through the fabric. It jumped as she dragged a nail along its edge, marking the boundaries of his existence. “There. That’s the part I want to hurt. That’s all you are.” She picked up a heavy cane, slashed it though the air. “You’re nothing but six square inches of skin that I’m going to fuck up beyond all reason right now. Not even a human being, or a hole in a bag for me to torment. You’re just… a small patch of skin.”

She rocked back on her heels, savoring the sight. “And I still love you.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.


  1. alberto said,

    I liked this πŸ™‚
    The hints of relationships in your short stories are beautifully described. Keep up the good work!

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Thanks, it’s kind of become my way of showing the mutual trust that (I think) should be involved. Glad it works for you.

  2. Oh the curtain comment made me chuckle!!

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Nothing more dangerous for a submissive than a dominant woman on a redecorating binge. πŸ™‚

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