August 22, 2002
The Locker
Sometimes my fantasies require elaborate equipment... A rack... A TENS unit for electrical torture... A winch to haul me up by my wrists. Other times, all they require is a locker. I would surrender to A voluntarily. She would have me strip. My hands would be cuffed behind me and a blindfold put over my eyes. Then she would walk me over and have me step backwards into the locker so that I'm facing out. The top is low enough that I have to bow my head. I feel A shackling me. Now that she has me in place, she speaks to me:
"And now, my prisoner..."
With only that, she closes the locker door. I hear the click of a padlock.
I'm left standing for hours... Probably overnight. The next day she comes to toy with me. She is smoking a cigar and blows the smoke through the vents set into the door. I cough as she fouls even further the already dank air within my prison. A laughs deliciously.
"I control your air. I decide when... If... You come out. Mmm... The things I'm going to do to you."