City Of Need

14 💜 The Doll On The Box

The woman on stage pats the vaulting box next to her. It's brown suede, worn in places, with ankle and wrist cuffs attached to it.

'Hendricks?' I look up at you from where I sit on the bench. My chain leash sparking in the spotlight as you gently tug on it. 'Do I have to Daddy?'

'Do you have to be punished?' You smile down at me, one brow raised. 'What do you think, Violet? Don't you think you deserve to be punished?'

'I know I do Daddy. But... up there...in front of all these people?'

'Yes Little One. In front of all these people.' You tug gently at my leash and automatically I stand. You walk and my stupid legs follow you. How well you have me trained.

On the stage the show-woman in the top hat, runs her eyes over me, licks her lips and pats the box. She's fucking terrifying. I flinch and move closer to you.

'I've got you. You're safe, she knows that you belong to me. You do belong to me, don't you, Little One?'

'Yes daddy,' my stupid mouth tells you.

She pats the box and you both help me up and onto it. I'm dimly aware of the crowd watching quietly. Respectfully.

I lay flat astride the box, my arms and legs dangling down. You firmly cuff my ankles and she gently cuffs my wrists, as she looks up at me. Her gaze is softer now. 'You'll do beautifully, Little One. We're all here for you. We want to hear your cries, we want to imagine that we are the ones to dry your tears and put you back together.'

I can feel the box underneath me, as the inside of my thighs and arms touch it. It's comforting, and she's comforting. I keep my eyes on hers, drop them to her lips, then back up to her eyes. I wonder what it would be like to kiss her while your cock enters me from behind.

Her eyes flare with desire. Can she hear my thoughts? Can you? I pull at the restraints, they're tight, too tight to get out of, but not too tight that they'll hurt me. I can't help thinking that they're like your love. Tight enough to contain me, but not too tight that it chokes me - not unless I ask you to anyway.

You appear in front of me. Your eyes still soft, encouraging, safe. And I just can't help myself, because I need to see them harden, I need to feel that fear, and so I say, 'Daddy?'

'Yes Little Doll?'

'I think you should give my strikes to her.' I nod my eyes towards the woman in the top hat.

Your eyes are still soft, like maybe you know the game I'm trying to play.

'Your strikes, Little Doll?'

The show-woman moves closer, sensing a game to be played.

'Yes. My strikes,' I say. 'Aren't my strikes mine to give daddy?' I make my eyes go wide, smile a little, push a little more. 'I mean, it is up to me...isn't it?'

You look from me to her and she nods, as if agreeing with me. Your eyes aren't soft now, not as you look at her, and not as you look back at me either. Your demons struggle beneath your skin, ripple across your hands, push to escape from your mouth.

You take a deep breath, roll your shoulders back, and say, 'Violet, the strikes are not yours to give out as you please. The strikes belong to me. You owe them to ME because you behaved like a brat over the sign. You are MY sub. You do not get to stand in MY club, with your hand on your hip pouting. You do not get to question ME about getting on stage, when I've told you that's what we're doing. And you most certainly do not get to give MY strikes away to another Domme.'

Your voice is so forceful that I sink further down in to the box.

Then you put your face right down beside me and say, 'Now take that attitude and put it the fuck away. For the rest of the evening there are only two words that are to come out of your pretty little toy of a mouth. What are they, Violet?'