June 12, 2013

The Closet

Posted in Uncategorized at 6:00 am by littlesubmissions

The kinkiest sex toy they owned was a closet.

Most of the time it was a mixture of their personalities, the things lurking behind their skin. The things that they kept around even if they didn’t use them all the time.

Her comic books, his old video games and systems. Clothes with paint on them shoved back into the corners, boxes of old books, things that followed them from place to place but rarely saw the light of day. Her shoes, his boardgames. Her school papers and textbooks, his LARP costumes.

It was well organized, and they could dismantle it quickly. She would stand in the closet, passing him things which he would stack in the corner. A well rehearsed pattern that pulled everything out, and left a bare room with rectangles and squares pushed into the carpet and a wooden rod hanging overhead. A blank, anonymous door with a brass handle and a room that could be anything.

A place they could make up their own rules.

“One rule: If you go in there, whatever comes through that door after you goes in your mouth.”

That had been the rule once. She had fed him his dinner through a crack in the door, one piece at a time, her eating at a TV tray and him sitting on the floor inside the closet, watching her. The food had come through slowly, a morsel at a time from her fingertips.

After that had come her fingers, him sucking them clean, her rubbing her clit. A single boot had slid through, and he had sucked on the toes, the heel, taking more of it in his mouth until he choked and whimpered in frustration when she pulled it away. Endless shots of piss poured from a pitcher, sliding in one after another, the acrid smell making his eyes water. All the while watching her through the crack in the door.

Sometimes he crawled in willingly. Other times she forced him in, on his feet or on his hands and knees.

Sometimes it was an airlock, she was a merciless space pirate, he a captain, and she would force him to perform the most degrading and disgusting acts to avoid being ejected into space. His crew dead, he would jerk himself off and wallow and beg for his life while she stood looking in, one hand on the button that would end his life.

Other times it was a prison cell, her the pitiless warden, him the convict. A hard man, who had killed and committed the most heinous of crimes, now bound and tied as she beat him with rods and canes, tortured his flesh and extracted his debt to society.

It had been a gallows, a rope looped around his neck and running up to the wooden closet rod. Holding him in place while she methodically stripped him and whipped his flesh. A last taste of pain and a good show for the crowd before his execution.

A cargo container van, holding the latest pleasure slave purchased for the empress. She was only the driver, but there had been a mistake. He was a common field hand, and knew nothing of pleasuring women. He had begged her for lessons to avoid execution when the empress first used him, and she had taken pity on him and obliged. Her teaching methods were stern, severe, and punishment was used to reinforce lessons.

The closet became all these things, and a few more. Some of they repeated, some they laughed about and swore they would never do a scene after reading William S. Burroughs again.

But when it was all done, they always put the closet back together. He handed her the items stacked neatly in the corner, she put them back in the closet. The bookend to the beginning, stacking the things they kept under their skin back out of sight, until it was time to take them out and play with them again.

Preview courtesy of Ava Amnesia: “Make me hungry, or I won’t let you eat until you do.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: