“Feeling better after your shower” he asks, handing her a cup of tea.
“Much!” Carrie smiles, wrapped in a towel, her damp hair framing her smiling face. “Its so good to be here at last! Our new home! I wish I could have moved down here last month, when you did.”
He smiles and sips his tea. “All a cunning plot to get out of doing the unpacking, if you ask me” he teases.
They chatter some more about her flight, her last few days at the office in the city, and how nice it will be to be together, working from home, in the future.
After a while, he puts his mug down on the counter and turns to her seriously. “You remember what I said, little one, about a fresh start? About the rules being different...stricter...here?” She nods, having already agreed to this, but her stomach tightens a little apprehensively, all the same.
He reaches for her hand, pulls her closer and hugs her.
“Come with
“Oh…my…” she cries. “When did you do this?”
He has sectioned off half of the basement into a cell, with a heavy iron grill that stretches from floor to ceiling. There is a door at one end, currently open. On the floor inside is a mattress with a pillow and two blankets, and in the corner are two buckets and a bottle of water.
She looks at all this, wordlessly. Its meaning is obvious, but she doesn’t know how to react, what to say. He leads her into the cell, and pulls the towel from her, leaving her naked. “Kneel on the mattress” he says…and she does.
He steps out of the cell, and closes the door, locking it with a big padlock. He hooks the key on the wall by the basement door, visible but well out of her reach.
She hasn’t said a word, and he sits down on the stairs and watches her.
“Carrie.” She looks up. “You will kept here for several days, probably about a week. You have all the drinking water you need, somewhere to sleep, a bucket for a toilet.”
She gazes at him, speechless.
“You will be fed, very lightly, three times a day. I will visit you now and then, but you will not be allowed out of the cell.”
Carrie is looking a little pale. She starts to say something, then stops. He waits patiently. Finally she says “What if the house burns down while you are out at the shops?.”
He laughs.
“Have a look on the wall to your left. Do you see that glass box on the wall? Inside is a little shelf, and on the shelf is a cell phone. It is switched on and fully charged. If there is an emergency, you may break the glass, using the bucket and remove the phone. My number is programmed there, as are all the emergency numbers. Don’t dare break the glass unless there is a real life-and-death emergency, do you understand?”
She nods, the seriousness of her situation starting to sink in.
He stands and smiles, pleased that she is quietly submissive. “Good girl. I will be back tonight with some food. You may explore your cage.” and he climbs the stairs, flicks off the light, and closes the basement door behind him.
Carrie doesn’t move for quite some time. Eventually, growing cold, she pulls one of the blankets around her shoulders. The light that comes in through the sky-light window is starting to fade, so she gets up to have a look around the cell. Really, there is not much to see. Two buckets, a 2 litre bottle of water, a roll of toilet paper, and the glass case holding the phone. She peeks inside - the phone is on, and shows a fully-charged battery and good reception. She is deeply grateful for this, and reassured that he has thought this through carefully.
Her exploration takes just minutes. She walks over to the cell bars and tests them, pulling on them as hard as she can. Nothing budges. She looks around again, growing bored. There is nothing much for her to do. No books, no TV obviously, not even pen and paper, or a pack of cards.
She wanders around her little cell aimlessly for a while and eventually settles back onto the mattress, and lies gazing at the dark ceiling. Her tummy rumbles and she wonders how long it will be before he brings supper.
By the time he arrives, she is bored, restless, and famished.
“I’m starving!” she cries as he flicks on the light, but he notes that she smiles at him, rather than frowns. He wonders how long that will last, as she becomes more bored and uncomfortable.
“Here we go, sweet one” he says and slides a plate of food under the bottom of the door. She’d not noticed the little gap there, and wonders if he designed it expressly for this purpose. On the plate is a small piece of chicken, half a potato and a tomato, cut into quarters. She looks at him questioningly.
“Yes, that is all you are getting. And no, you can’t have salt or butter on your potato. Now eat up!”.
There is no cutlery and she scowls a little as she picks up the food with her fingers and wolfs it down.
“Eat slowly, Carrie, it will be more satisfying.” he advises, but it is too late.
She pushes the plate back under the door, and pulls the blanket around her again. “Why are you doing this?” she asks. “Is it a punishment?”
He smiles and shakes his head.
“No, not a punishment. There are a few reasons. Partly, I am doing this, because it gives me great pleasure. Partly, its because I want you to understand the new ‘rules’. You are my possession now, I will do with you as I please. Don’t fret, I am not going to damage you, I like you too much for that” he smiles.
“Also, I think you badly need some time to rest, and regain perspective, after the last few hectic weeks in the city. Spend some time letting go of that, and looking forward to your new life here”. He pauses. “Do you have any questions?”
“Could I have some books or magazines?” she askes, hopefully.
“No. You will spend your time here in quiet comtemplation. Meditation, if you like. There will be no music, no entertainment, no visitors other than me. You may exercise in the cell if you wish, there is enough room to do your yoga routine.”
He stands, and she looks up, surprised. “You are leaving already?”
“Yes, my love. I will see you in the morning. Try and get some sleep.”
She makes a huffy, grumbly noise that clearly says “there isn’t much choice, nothing else to do!” He turns off the light and closes the door.
Carrie has no idea what time it is, but it can’t be much
later than
The morning sun wakes her, beams of light falling onto her
mattress. Its early, perhaps
She stands and stretches, and goes to get the bottle of water. Taking a long draught, she realises that she needs to pee, and eyes the buckets with dread. Better do it quickly, before he comes in and catches me at it, she thinks, and squats over the red bucket.
Her stomach is grumbling again, and she decides to take his advice and do her yoga workout, to loosen her muscles and take her mind off her hunger. But it’s a little chilly in the cell at this time of morning. She starts off by running on the spot for a while, until she has raised a sweat, and then begins her stretching.
He doesn’t appear with breakfast. She grows angry, then concerned, then angry again when she hears him walking about upstairs. The smell of bacon frying wafts down to her, and has her salivating. Surely, the door will open any second and he will present her with eggs, bacon, toast, perhaps some sausages, and a hot cup of coffee.
But he doesn’t, and another hour passes.
At last he opens the door, and comes down the stairs. “Good afternoon” she says, grumpily. He slides the plate under the door. She is horrified to find that it contains slices of fruit, a piece of cheese and a slice of wholewheat toast. No butter.
“Hey!” she cries, “You had eggs and bacon, where’s mine?”.
He leaves again, without a word.
Carrie is furious. And she needs coffee. She wolfs down what is on the plate, still not having learnt to eat slowly, and angrily shoves the plate back under the door.
“COFFEE!” she yells at the closed cellar door.
There is no response.
She paces the cell for what seems like hours, bored almost to tears.
When he returns at last, he has a cup in one hand, and a small packet in the other. “About time!” she mutters loudly.
He puts the cup down on the table, across the room from Carrie. Her nose picks up the scent and she is almost drooling for the beloved brew! From the packet he pulls 5 bars of chocolate, all different flavours. Most of her favourites are there, he knows.
He lays them beside the steaming coffee cup on the table.
“Carrie,” he says softly “You need to learn some manners. You also need to learn that you must obey me, and accept my decisions.”
He climbs the stairs and closes the door behind him, leaving Carrie open-mouthed in horror.
The next hour is torture for her. She can smell the coffee and see the chocolate, but not reach them, and its clear that he isn’t going to let her have them. Eventually her anguish leads her to sit with her back to the table, her eyes closed. She tries to shut them out. Finally, she grows calm. When he returns, he finds her like this, quiet and still, cross-legged on the mattress with her back to him.
“Carrie.” he says softly. She opens her eyes, and half-turns her head towards him.
“Stand up, and come over here to the bars.”
She does as he instructs, walks over to face him. “Give me your hands.” She reaches her hands through the bars, and he takes them, squeezes them for a moment. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. He cuffs her hands together, outside the bars, so that she cannot move away.
“What are you doing now?” she asks quietly. He moves away, fetches the key to the padlock and opens the cell door. She watches silently, as he checks the level on her water bottle, and takes away the red bucket. Satisfied, he goes out, locks the door again, and says to her “You need to drink more water, Carrie. When you are released from the bars, I want you to drink at least 500ml”. She nods, looking at the floor.
“I will be back in an hour or so” he says, and walks up the steps.
“What about the cuffs?” she reminds him.
“What about them?” he grins, and blows a kiss as he closes the door.
Carrie growls at the door, and stamps her feet crossly. She can’t turn around, and she can’t sit or kneel, as her hands are cuffed too high on the bars. She spends a very restless hour, shifting her weight from side to side and growing more and more irritable. She needs coffee, and chocolate, and a shower, and something to DO!
She yells at the door “I’m bored!” After a 30 second silence, she shouts again “I’M BORED!!! LET ME OUT OF HERE!”.
Another hour passes without a trace of him. Her legs are aching now, and so is her back. She has been standing on the hard stone floor for over two hours. Her arms hurt when she leans on the bars, and her shoulders hurt if she doesn’t lean on the bars.
At last she hears him open the door and looks up. “I’m bored, and sore” she pouts.
But she doesn’t repeat the request to be let out.
He unlocks the cell door, and comes to stand behind her. “I can do something to relieve your boredom, and take your mind off your aching muscles” he says in her ear, rubbing a hand over her bum and down between her legs.
She reacts immediately, nipples hardening, heat flooding between her thighs. She presses back against him, eager to fuck, knowing that he must be too. They have not been together for weeks, and she is already wet and ready for him.
He steps away, and she hears him undoing his belt. She moans softly, dropping her head, and shifts her feet apart, waiting for his cock between her legs. She is startled by a “thwap!” and her head jerks up as she feels the impact of his belt on her buttocks. A second later, the pain registers, a searing flare of pain that bites into her flesh. She is so shocked that she can’t form words, and gasps repeatedly as she turns to look over her shoulder at him.
The belt lands again. And again. She squeals now, and tries to avoid the blows, but she can’t move far. Ten strokes land on her buttocks, thighs and hips, each one a punishing blow. When he stops, she has tears in her eyes.
He drags his fingers lightly over the welts, knowing how much she would like to rub her own hands there, if she could. Then he leaves the cell, locks the door, and turns face her. Putting his hand through the bars, he grabs the back of her neck and pulls her up close. Kissing her mouth through the bars, he holds her firmly, so that she cannot escape his lips. She struggles at first, angry and hurting, but after a few moments she softens and opens her mouth to let his tongue play with hers.
She feels the heat rising in her belly again, mingling with the heat from the whipping. Rushing towards orgasm, she presses herself against the bars, and his other hand finds her clit. He takes it between index finger and thumb, and tugs at it firmly. She moans loudly into his mouth. “Cum” he commands, and he feels her melt for a second, then go rigid. She shudders, mouth open but not breathing. He holds her tightly as her knees buckle slightly. As she takes in a deep shuddering breath, he smiles and whispers “good girl.”
He holds her for a while longer, then steps back and unlocks the handcuffs. “Go and drink some water, then lie down for a while. I while bring some lunch later.” She nods, and flicks a glance at his face. He smiles and holds her eye, and slowly she smiles back. She is so beautiful, he thinks, naked, flushed, her tears drying on her face.
He returns later to find her dozing on the mattress. Lunch turns out to be relatively sumptuous – a tuna salad, a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk. She eats gratefully, and somewhat slower than usual.
“Please can I have a shower?” she asks softly, as he sits on the stairs watching her after lunch.
“No”
“But my hair is getting ratty, and I feel grimy” she moans softly.
“I know” comes his reply. “You will feel worse tomorrow. I think we could safely say that the rest of the week will be ‘bad hair days’ for you. You will not be allowed to bathe or wash your hair until you are released from the cell.”
She looks at him in dismay. This is probably going to be the hardest thing for her to bear. She adores her morning shower, and feels dreadful when she thinks she looks a mess. But she doesn’t say a word, just nods and drops her eyes to the floor.
“I will be out for the afternoon” he says, standing up and looking down at her. “Supper will be late. Don’t fret while I am gone, that is an order..
He watches her, silent, kneeling on the mattress.
“Carrie”
She looks up.
“You are doing well. I am proud of you."
She beams at him, delightedly, his words producing the familiar burn in her belly.
“Thank you, Sir” she responds, as he turns to go.
The morning has been eventful and exhausting for Carrie. He hasn’t even left the house before she is dozing on the mattress, and she sleeps soundly for nearly two hours. The rest of the afternoon is spent quietly - she sips at the water bottle, stares at the skylight window, lost in thought, and watches an ant scurry around on the floor for a long while.
When he returns later, he brings Chinese take-aways, and they sit and eat together, chatting companionably for an hour or more – she on the mattress, he on the stairs.
He kisses her when he goes to bed, and leaves her alone in the darkness. She is compliant now, relaxed. He is pleased.
“I will let her out, in the morning” he decides, as he climbs the stairs to bed. But he knows that she will be back in the cell periodically, when she needs it.
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