Look At Me

I stood, under the dim light, my neck bent and my hair parted at my nape. I could hear his steady breath caress the back of my ear. For a very brief moment, his fingers touched mine. My breathing grew faster, I instinctively held my breath. He, however, continued moving mechanically as if performing an experiment he studied routinely. His steady and skinny fingers appeared suddenly next to my ears and gently pushed my hair behind them, never touching my skin. His thumb inspected my lips, they were dry. I could imagine him frown ever so slightly. And see the gears in his brain spring into action. Stick your tongue out, he said and turned. I almost giggled with anticipation, like a little kid about to get candy. And like a kid, I hastily swallowed my smile before he turned to put a clamp on my tongue.

Pain swiftly inundated me, and as a wave washed away my thoughts. At my back, my grip on my wrist tightened. I closed my eyes. I could hear my breath, slow and shaky when it left me. Quick and sharp while coming in. I knew what he was thinking, a clamp on my tongue because my lips were dry. How considerate. I opened my eyes. My chest rose sharply and fell slowly, still in sync with the pain. As my eyes travelled down, I saw an oiled jute rope around my waist. Spread them, he said as he wrapped another loop. I found my legs tightly hugging each other, probably because of the pain. I pulled them apart, only so much in which he could get the rope through. He did not complain and carefully fixed the rope between my butt cheeks. Then brought it between my thighs, being careful not to touch me, gave the rope a sharp upward jerk. I almost gasped. Annoyed, I stepped half a step, right before he removed his hands, partly to annoy him. A drop fell on my thighs, I was already drooling. For a moment, his fingers hovered over my thigh. A smile charmingly floated onto his lips as he glanced on mine.

Keep your tongue out, said he almost humming to himself. My lower lip was wet. And the pain, numbing. The rope appeared from between my thighs to climb up to my navel. And went around the rope on my waist to get tied into a knot. Sit, he demanded. I sat on the cold floor, with my legs folded at my knees and my thighs together. My heels dug into my butt as did the rope into my clit. He circled behind me, gently took my wrists in his palm and tightly tied them together behind my back. With my tongue in immense agony, I bit the clamp. He took a step back to appreciate his handiwork. Satisfied, he pulled a chair in front of me and sat calmly. With his legs crossed, he quietly demanded, tongue out.

As I removed my teeth from the clamp to take my tongue out, the savage pain returned with heightened fervour. I could feel my thighs rising, my back bending and see my drool form a pool on the ground in front of me. Sit, he said firmly. I obeyed before I knew it. Neck still bent, my hair blurred my vision from all sides. A few strands of hair clung to my face, stuck by sweat, and a few ran from my ear to my lips. My breathing was much slower but more fervent. It hurts, he observed, do you want to me to remove the clamp, he asked. Confused, I looked up, sat motionless waiting for an answer. Beg, he demanded. If I could, I would have smiled. Now that my head was straight, I could feel a drop flowing down my chin, following my neck. I tilted my head, just a touch, looked him in the eye and shook my head, ever so slightly. I could feel a smirk creep into a corner of my lips. The drop travelled down, guided by my collar bone, it moved down between my breasts. I could see his eyes follow the droplet. Beg, he commanded again, however with a silver of passion this time. I sat straight, motionless, looking him in the eye.

His eyes were electrified, in contrast, the rest of him still sat as calm as the night outside. I knew he wanted me to squirm and beg. I wanted to squirm and beg. Nevertheless, I sat straight. My pride could not alleviate the pain, however. So, I bit the clamp. I was wet, the rope was wet, I could feel it all the way till my butt. Sensations had slowly begun to leave my feet. When my fingers touched my feet, it felt as if they were touching someone else. He got up, asked in a soft voice, beg. I did not move. He placed the chair in front of me, with its back towards me. He went behind and undid my hands. On your knees, he demanded. I fell before I could get up, my legs were numb. Take your time, he said, visibly enjoying. I shifted, moved my legs in front of me, the coldness of the floor sunk into my skin, lightly waking my feet. I got on my knees, my hands still behind my back and a thousand needles in my feet. Either beg or keep the clamp and stay like this for thirty minutes, he announced. For an instant, I could feel my hesitation in the silence. With the little strength, I could muster I shook my head. Okay, he said enunciating every word fervidly, and tongue out.

Unagreeably, I welcomed the pain as I removed my teeth from the clamp and pulled my tongue out. Insensible. With a mind of their own, my hands came so close to my lips, almost touched the clamp. How cruel. And smart. Setting my hands free. And how considerate. Offering the chair. My knees had begun to hurt. I graciously accepted his offer and took the support of the chair. A continuous stream of drool flowed from the edge of the clamp to the floor. Neverending. I never would have imagined that it was biologically possible for a human to contain so much water within them. I tried to swallow, I couldn't. I tried to move my tongue, I couldn't. It felt swollen. I could barely feel the clamp anymore. I panicked. My knees hurt. Legs were shaking from the strain. Thirty minutes, I recalled. I had no idea how much time had passed. I couldn't see him. I closed my eyes.

My senses made no sense. I tried to think, I drew a blank. I felt like I could fall down any moment. I thought of him. All I could think of was that I trusted him. I slipped into a trance. I felt calm. Comfortable. I fell.

When I opened my eyes, his face was floating over mine. With a big smile on his lips, he patted my head. Praised, good girl. And then vanished into the darkness. I removed the clamp, an excruciating pain followed by an immense sense of relief filled me. I was left alone, with only my senseless tongue as his souvenir. I do not even know his name. As the quiet of the night finally woke me up from my daze, I mumbled an incoherent complaint and began untying myself. An indelible smile plastered to my face.