I awoke to find myself prone on a padded, horizontal surface. My arms were held loosely above my head, secured at the wrists by some binding which was padded and not immediately uncomfortable. My legs were similarly secured straight out below me.
I thought I was in complete darkness until I realise that I was wearing a blindfold. I tried to protest but realised that I was also gagged - while it didn’t prevent me from breathing, it stopped me making any noise.
For a few minutes I struggled against the bonds but it soon became clear that I could do nothing about them.
The last thing I remembered was setting out in the evening to go and meet up with my mates down at the skatepark. If this was somebody’s idea of a joke, I’d be seriously pissed off.
Let me introduce myself. We seem to have plenty of time here.
My name is Ro, well, officially it’s Rose but nobody ever dares to call me that except my mother on the odd occasion when she’s not too busy with cheap white wine or the tenor section of her church choir to notice me.
My father doesn’t call me anything because he exists only as a monthly money transfer from a solicitor’s office. I suppose my mother knows his name but she’s never told me.
I’m at college where I’m studying… well, to be honest, I’m studying as little as possible. The money from my father stops when I leave so it’s worth my while to hang around there.
The couple of skateboard mates I hang out with call me Ro or Roller but I don’t really fit in there because I don’t do the whole drink and drugs thing. If I want to see how a couple of bad decisions made while drunk could really muck up your life, I just need to look at my mother.
I remained stretched like that - I really had no choice - until I sensed a slight noise and movement - maybe a door had been opened. I feel my breath quicken. Deep down, I’m afraid but the anger is doing a good job of masking it.
“Hello, Girl,” a disembodied voice said. It was calm and assured, as if this was a completely normal situation. “Welcome to your new life.”
I looked around, trying to pin down the man behind the voice, in spite of the blindfold. The voice - with its calm authority and its slight touch of amusement - seemed vaguely familiar.
“I am about to remove your gag. If you raise your voice in any way it will be replaced and you will be punished. Nod to show you understand.”
I would have had a thousand answers if I didn’t have this stupid gag on me. I’d have stared at him if I could see. Instead I just lay there in silent protest.
“I know you can hear me and I’m going to give you one more chance. Nod if you accept my conditions for removing the gag.”
I had no intention of giving him the satisfaction.
“Very well,” he retained his infuriatingly calm and slightly amused tone. “I will return when I choose. Don’t go anywhere!”
That was too much for me. I thrashed and grunted until I heard the door close behind him.
I don’t know how long he was gone. It seemed like a long time.
I had time to think about that voice… I definitely knew it from somewhere. I somehow associated it with pissing off somebody who thought I should be showing them a bit more respect.
Unfortunately that didn’t narrow it down much.
I had time to think about where I was. The room had sounded echoey… like, well a dungeon.
I had serious words with myself about having silly thoughts like that.
I had time to think about how I was going to get out.
Unfortunately I couldn’t come up with any answers to that.
I had time to realise that I was completely naked - apart from the blindfold and gag - and that nobody I knew would try anything like that on me as a joke. They wouldn’t dare.
I had the distinct impression that I was in quite a bit of trouble here - a teenage girl tied up naked in a dungeon - that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.
I had time to think about the fact that I really needed the toilet.
Unfortunately there was absolutely nothing I could do about that.
I had time to think about the fact that the thin plastic pad I was lying on was even less comfortable when it was covered in piss.
Unfortunately there was absolutely nothing I could do about that either.
Eventually the door opened again.
“Oh dear,” the man said. “You seem to have had an accident. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Suddenly there was a stream of warm water over my lower body. “Hips up,” he instructed me.
I remained obstinately flat on the bed.
He turned off the flow of water. “Girl,” he said, “I am not a cruel man and do not want to make you lie there in a puddle of your own urine but to clean you up properly will need at least some minimal cooperation from you. Now are you going to raise your hips or am I going to go away again? I don’t want to hang around here. You smell.”
I hated him but he was right. I hated him because he was right. I reluctantly raised my hips in the air and allowed him to complete the job.
“Good girl,” he said when he was done. I can’t think of a single thing he could have said that would have pissed me off as much as that. “Hips up again!”
I positioned my head to show him I wanted to glare at him.
“That plastic is going to be really uncomfortable to lie on as it starts drying. I was going to pop a towel underneath you.”
He might be doing his very best to piss me off but he was right again. Reluctantly I cooperated.
He placed a towel on top of me and started to pat me down. At least, I noticed as he did so, he wasn’t trying any funny business when he was down there.
“All done,” he said, patting me on the leg. “Now, I’ve got some water here but we need to take your gag off to do that. Are you going to be good?”
I nodded. What choice did I have?
At last I had the blessed relief of the gag being removed. For a few moment, I was silent as I wriggled my jaw and breathed deeply.
Then he made the mistake of saying, “Good girl,” while rubbing my hair as if I was some kind of dog.
That was too much… just too much. The anger exploded out of me. Who was he? What did he think he was doing? And by what right did he think he was doing it? I was inventing profanities on the spot.
My tirade was cut off sharply by the re-insertion of the gag.
“Girl,” he said in a quiet, calm voice that was much more frightening than anger would have been. “I don’t think you understand the situation. I am in control here and you will do as you’re told. You have one last chance to be good.”
But by that time I was angry beyond any rationale or reasoning. I ignored him as I struggled against the gag and the restraints. It was, of course, futile.
He put one hand gently on one side of my head and spoke gently into the opposite ear. “This is an unfortunate way for us to have to start our relationship but you give me no choice but to punish you. You are about to be placed into a control position. I strongly suggest you do not resist as that would be… uncomfortable.”
As he spoke, I heard the whir of an electric motors and the restraints on my wrists started to pull me upwards. He eased me off whatever I was lying on and I rose awkwardly to my feet. The pull of the restraints only halted when my hands were far above my head forcing me to stand on tip toe.
OK, this was now officially frightening. What was he going to do with me? My thrashing halted suddenly and I simply froze. I wanted to say that I was sorry and promise to be good but the gag prevented it. There was nothing I could do.
“Are you starting to understand that I’m serious when I make threats, Girl?” he asked. I jumped because he was suddenly just behind me, whispering in my ear. “Nod if you understand me.”
I nodded, though I didn’t know whether he would be able to see, I was trembling so much.
“And do you wish you could go back and be a good girl as I asked you in the first place?”
Again I nodded.
“And do you promise to be good from now on?”
A desperate nod of agreement.
“Well, I’m afraid you have to learn something, Girl. I never, ever, make idle threats or empty promises. I said you will be punished, so you will be punished. Do you understand?”
Again I nodded though by now my trembling was shaking my whole body.
“Good girl,” he said, stroking my hair gently, almost tenderly. “But, because this is your first time, and because you’ve promised to be good from now on, I will be quite gentle with you.”
Nothing continued to happen.
I thought I heard the door - had he left me like this?
Well, if that’s all the punishment was, it wasn’t too bad… I mean, it wasn’t a very comfortable way to stand but it wasn’t as if he was hitting me or raping me or anything.
After a couple of minutes, my calves started to ache from standing on tiptoe. When I tried to relax them, I was left dangling from my wrists which started to hurt my arms and shoulders after only a couple of seconds. I also started swinging unpleasantly as my feet left the floor.
I don’t know how long he left me hanging there. It seemed like a long time - but that’s not really surprising when I was, well, hanging around like that.
Suddenly he was there again, easing me back down onto the bed. “I know your shoulders must be aching so I’m prepared to leave your arms loose,” he said. “Do you promise to be good?”
“Now I’m going to remove your gag. Do you promise to be good about that, too?”
Another nod. I felt completely defeated and crushed. I wanted to cry but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He put an arm round my shoulders and eased me into a sitting position then adjusted something behind me so I had a backrest. He removed the gag then I felt a mug of water pressed to my lips.
“I can do it,” I said, raising my hands to the mug.
“Girl!” he said, pulling the mug out of the way. The admonition was clear in his tone. “Hands on your lap.”
“What do you think…”
“The use of your hands is a privilege that you have not yet earned.”
I had to all but bite my tongue to stop myself giving an answer to that. I needed that drink and the only way I was going to get it was to play along for now. I dropped my hands back to my lap in my best impression of a good girl.
“Good, I’m glad to see you’ve decided to cooperate for now.”
I really wish he’d stop knowing what I was thinking! Nevertheless, I dutifully allowed him to give me the drink.
“Good girl,” he said when we were done, patting me gently on my knee. He seemed to be doing that sort of thing a lot but it seemed genuinely friendly rather than a sneaky way to cop a feel. “Now what do you say?”
“Thank you,” I replied with a minimum of good grace.
“Thank you…” he prompted.
“Thank you, Sir,” I said. I felt as if my defeat was complete. He had crushed me.
“Good try but you are to call me ‘Master’.”
“I’m not going to call you ‘Master’. Are you out of your tiny little mind?”
“Yes you will,” he replied simply.
It was his tone of utter, unshakable self confidence that got to me. I hated it. I hated him.
I launched myself at him, flailing with my fists. I heard the mug smashing as he backed away from me. At least I managed to get my teeth into something, I think it was his arm, before he backed out of range.
“Ow,” he said. “That hurt.” Infuriatingly, it didn’t seem to alter his calm tone.
“Good,” I snarled and I continued to rant, scream, spit and struggle.
“Oh dear,” he said in his infuriatingly calm tone. “You’re going to regret doing that.” I heard the whir of electric motors again.
It’s not the first time my mouth has got me into trouble - but it’s not normally for biting people.