Part Two
"Alright Fredrick, Gustav, lift her into place." I heard Sonya’s voice from what felt like miles away. My body trembled as the two large men I had only caught glimpses of earlier that day obeyed her command. The metal pole was cold and unforgiving as it slid through the rings of my metal shackles and collar, the clank of bolts echoing in my ears as they secured me into place.
The room spun as they tilted the pole from upright to horizontal, the cold steel digging into my skin as they maneuvered it over the grill. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the reality of what was happening, but the sound of the fledgling fire crackling and popping below me filled me with trepidation.
My body had been fixed to the long steel pole via a set of shackles attached to my wrists, elbows, ankles, knees and collar. Silver painted straps also fixed my torso to the pole just below my breast and I now truly understood what it felt like to be a pig at a luau. The whole scenario was psychotic and I had to wonder what kind of a madman would think up such a scene. At the moment I couldn't actually feel hardly any of the heat as the long glass barrier that had been set in place over the grill remained secure, but the smell of the burning coals and the sight of the flickering flames dancing beneath me were more than enough to make my stomach lurch.
*Clang* *Clang*
The sound of the metal pole being secured into place was a jolting reminder of my new reality. I felt the heat of the flames below grow a little, a contrast to the coolness of the steel that held me aloft. My heart raced, the beat echoing in my ears louder than the crackle of the fire.
"Excellent, dismissed!" Sonya clapped her hands, and the two men retreated from the room, leaving me suspended above the grill. Sonya’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she studied the expression on my face.
I watched as Sonya fiddled with a camera, her eclectic taste in fashion on full display today. She was dressed like a 1950s housewife gone wild, with a tight red dress that cinched at her waist and flared out at her hips. The dress was so short that it barely covered the tops of her thighs, and her legs looked endless in the matching five-inch red stilettos. An apron was tied around her waist, but instead of hiding any potential stains from cooking or cleaning, it was made of leather and had small chains that dangled from it. It was a jarring juxtaposition of domesticity and depravity that was becoming all too familiar to me now.
I myself didn't have much in the way of clothes today, in fact the only thing I was wearing apart from the shackles and steel collar was a pair of 4 inch silver high heeled sandals. Truly a damsel in distress. The studio had been set up to look like a medieval dungeon with flickering torches casting shadows on the stone walls and a single wooden table with a variety of whips, paddles and other instruments of pain laid out neatly. Sonya took her time, strolling over to the table and picking out a leather flogger, stroking it almost lovingly as she walked back to me.
"Maybe once the shoot is over we'll have a little extra playtime, just for fun," Sonya said, her voice a sweet caress that sent chills down my spine. "But for now, let's finish getting you ready."
Sonya picked up a large red apple from the work table and a bottle of oil. Walking over to where I hung midair, she held the apple up to my mouth with one hand. "Open," she ordered, her voice a seductive whisper that sent a thrill of fear through my body.
My eyes darted to the apple, then back to Sonya’s gleaming eyes. I could feel the heat from the flames below increase a bit more, my body already starting to sweat in anticipation. Despite my fear, I obeyed, opening my mouth slightly. Sonya pushed the apple into my mouth, her bare fingers lingering on my bottom lip as she wedged the fruit in. My teeth sank into the apple's flesh, the juice spilling over my tongue as I struggled not to choke.
"Lovely, now I'm going to enjoy this next part," Sonya said, her eyes glinting with a dark excitement as she uncorked the bottle of oil, the sound echoing through the room like a taunt. "This is for the art," she murmured, her voice a caress that made my skin crawl.
I stared at Sonya as she began to pour the oil onto her palms, warming it between her hands. Sonya began at my feet, her touch gentle yet firm as she began to spread the oil over the arches, working her way up to my ankles. The heat from the fire was now a constant presence, a reminder of the ordeal to come, but I couldn't help but feel a shiver of pleasure at the sensation of Sonya’s hands on my skin.
Sonya’s movements grew more deliberate as she reached my legs, her eyes never leaving her face as she spread the oil up my thighs. My breath hitched as Sonya’s fingers danced over my skin, the slickness of the oil making me shiver. Each stroke was calculated, a masterpiece of sensual torment that made my body respond despite myself. Sonya took her time, savoring the moment as she moved up my body, her hands gliding over my hips and stomach.
The oil glistened in the firelight, highlighting the contours of my bound body as Sonya’s hands moved in a slow, methodical dance. Her touch grew more intimate as she reached my breasts, her thumbs brushing over my erect nipples, causing them to stiffen further. My eyes squeezed shut, the sweet agony of Sonya’s ministrations making it difficult to focus on anything but the sensation.
Sonya’s fingers traveled around the back of my torso, the oil making my skin feel like silk as she worked it further into my skin. Her touch grew firmer as she started oiling my back and working her way down to my buttocks, the strokes lingering and deliberate. The warmth from Sonya’s palms mixed with the heat from the fire, creating a sensation that was both terrifying and exhilarating. my body was a canvas of fear and arousal, and Sonya was painting a masterpiece.
"Mmmph!" I moaned around the apple in my mouth as Sonya’s slick fingers began to slide between my butt cheeks, my eyes shot open as Sonya’s finger slipped inside my anus and I swear I felt the heat from the grill below intensify. The sensation was so intense that I almost forgot the fear of the flames as her finger worked its way deeper, stretching me in a way I’d never been before.
My eyes bulged with panic as I felt something cold and hard press against my anus. I couldn't see what Sonya was doing behind me, but the sudden intrusion was unmistakable. The vibrations began, a low, insidious hum that grew louder as the object was pushed deeper inside me. The apple in my mouth muffled my screams, the juices running down my chin as I struggled against my bonds, the metal pole rattled and dug into my skin with every squirm.
"There, thought I'd give you a little motivation," Sonya purred, her breath hot on my neck as she twisted the vibrating egg’s center, cranking up the intensity before fully inserting the device inside me. "Now, let's get the perfect shot."
I watched with curiosity as Sonya stepped back to reveal a contraption she had attached to the metal pole. It was a small, motorized device that looked like something out of a twisted carnival ride, with leather straps and gleaming chrome. Sonya hit a switch, and the pole began to spin slowly, my body started rotating over the grill like a macabre rotisserie. The scene grew more intense as did the heat and I could practically feel the flames licking at the soles of my feet and the smell of imagined burning flesh mingling with the scent of my own fear.
Either I was going crazy or the heat resistant glass wasn't as protective as Sonya had made it out to be, because I could swear I could feel the heat growing more intense by the second. The grill below me had vents that leaked out the heat to the side so by all accounts I should have been safe and yet I swear I could feel the flames danced below me as they cast a hellish glow on the ceiling. I watched Sonya’s reflection in the glass, the mad artist's eyes gleaming with excitement as she snapped away with the camera. The vibrator in my ass was relentless, sending waves of pleasure that only served to heighten my fear.
Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness. The only light came from the flickering fire and the occasional flash from Sonya’s camera. My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes darted around the room in a panic. I could hear Sonya moving around me, the clack of her heels echoing through the silent space. The anticipation was almost worse than the pain itself at this point.
The camera's shutter clicked in the darkness, the flash momentarily blinding me as Sonya captured my desperate, bound form. I squinted, trying to adjust to the sudden change in light. Sonya’s silhouette loomed over me, a sinister figure outlined by the dancing flames. I couldn’t help imagining the heat from the fire grew more intense, the smell of burning charcoal and leather mixing with the sweet aroma of the apple lodged in my nose.
Sonya leaned in, her breath hot and ragged. "Look at you," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "Spread out for all to see, my little damsel in distress. So beautiful, so vulnerable, sooo…delicious. " Her words were like a dark caress, taunting and seductive.
The camera clicked away in the background, a steady rhythm that seemed to match the erratic beating of my heart. The firelight cast Sonya’s shadow onto the stone wall, a grotesque silhouette that danced with every snap of the shutter. "Such a good girl," she cooed, her voice thick with lust. "You're going to make someone very, very happy with these pictures."
My body was a battleground of sensation, the cold steel of the pole against my skin a contrast to the warmth of the flames below. The vibrator inside me was a constant, unyielding presence, the humming a relentless taunt and I could feel my muscles clenching around me, my body betraying me as it sought the release that was being denied.
The rotation was a slow, deliberate torment, the pole moving in an almost imperceptible arc that had my body spinning in a dizzying dance of fear and desire. With each revolution, I was offered a fresh view of the hellish tableau: the flickering torches, the gleaming instruments of pain, Sonya's twisted smile as she captured my agony on film. It was a dance that had no end, no rhythm save for the cruel whims of my captor.
As I rotated, the gravity played a twisted game with my breasts. They hung, heavy and painfully sensitive, with each pass over the grill's heat. Then, as I reached the apex of the arc, they would pool against my chest, the sudden weight feeling almost comforting amidst the horror. It was a fleeting respite, a brief reprieve from the relentless pull of the flames that grew warmer and warmer with every rotation.
My long hair which Sonya had left freely to hang down fell down, only to cover my face briefly as she spun over the fire, adding to the dramatic effect. "You're going to have to be still, my dear, or you're going to ruin the shot," Sonya said with a tinge of irritation.
I shot Sonya a glare during my next rotation over the grill, but the words remained unspoken. The vibrator's relentless pulsing grew stronger, making it difficult to focus on nearly anything but the impending climax that was building within me. Closing my eyes I bit down on the apple, the sweetness of the fruit a strange companion to the sensation in my ass and the fear in my heart.
In my mind all Sonya had to do was remove the glass and I’d be a roasting pig at a twisted luau, the heat growing more intense as the flames danced closer. The thought was absurd, but the fear was real, making my stomach churn and my eyes water. Each rotation seemed to bring the fire closer, the heat growing more intense until it felt like it was searing my skin, even through the protective barrier.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally felt the rotation of the metal pole come to a jarring halt. My body was slick with sweat and oil, my mind a tumult of fear and frustration. The relief was short-lived, however, as Sonya’s shadowy figure approached me, the sound of her stilettos a sharp staccato on the stone floor.
Sonya’s hand reached up to remove the apple, the sudden absence of pressure from my jaw making my mouth feel empty. A moment of stillness, and then Sonya was inserting a straw between my lips, "You've worked up quite the sweat sweety, take a good long drink," she said, her voice dripping with false concern.
My mouth watered, my throat felt dry from the apple juice and the heat. I sucked greedily at the straw, the cool liquid hitting my tongue like a lifeline. It was heavenly, and I didn't care if it was part of the sadistic game. Sonya held the bottle steady, her eyes never leaving mine as she watched me drink.
When I had had my fill, Sonya pulled the straw away with a smacking of my lips. "Good girl," she said, her voice thick with satisfaction. Before I could even process what was happening, Sonya was reaching into my mouth again, her thumbs pressing against my cheeks to force it open wider.
With a twisted smile, she pushed in a new apple, the cool, firm fruit replacing the sticky mess of the previous one. My teeth clacked together, biting down into the crisp fruit as Sonya’s fingers slipped out of my mouth. The taste was almost overwhelming after the dryness, the tartness mingling with the bitter metallic taste of the saliva on my tongue. I swallowed hard, feeling the apple shift in my mouth as I moaned around it.
Sonya stepped back, her eyes raking over my bound form with a critical eye. "Perfect," she murmured, the word echoing in the silent room. "Now for the finishing touch."
With a flourish, Sonya produced a small plate from the shadows. It held three perfect slices of pineapple, arranged neatly on the gleaming porcelain. Each one looked like a tiny golden sun, ripe and shiny. I watched with a mix of curiosity and dread as Sonya approached me, the plate held out like an offering to a dark goddess.
Sonya’s eyes never left mine as she selected the first slice. With a sadistic smile, she brought it to my navel. It didn’t take me long to realize the slice wasn't made out of actual fruit, but plastic. The pinch to my bellybutton made me squeal and squirm, the plastic pineapple slice was attached to a small metal clamp. The cold metal bit into my sensitive skin, sending a shock of pain through my abdomen that made me jerk against my restraints. Sonya stepped back to admire her handiwork, the plastic fruit seemingly taunting me with its artificiality amidst the sea of genuine torment.
It didn't take me long to figure out where the next slice was headed. Soon I felt the electric pinch on my left nipple, the cold metal biting into my flesh sending ripples of pain down into my core. Sonya’s eyes were glued to my reaction, her smile widening as my eyes watered and my body jerked against the restraints. The third slice followed suit, attached to my right nipple, creating a bizarre, painful pineapple bikini.
Sonya took a step back, her hand stopped above the button, and a moment of anticipation hung in the air. I watched Sonya’s hand, my breath catching as I watched the woman's fingers hover over the switch that controlled my fate. The fire below crackled impatiently, casting shadows that danced across Sonya’s face as she considered her next move.
After what felt like an eternity, I watched as her hand drifted away from the button, leaving me suspended in a state of tormented anticipation. She turned away from the grill, her heels clicking against the stone floor as she sashayed back to her workbench. The flickering flames cast an eerie light across the array of bondage tools laid out before her, each one a silent testament to the depraved artistry that had brought me to this moment.
I watched as Sonya selected a small paintbrush and a jar of something that glinted a burnt orange in the firelight. The anticipation was almost unbearable as Sonya approached me again, the brush dipped in a thick, viscous substance that smelled faintly of citrus and sugar. "Orange glaze," Sonya whispered, her breath hot against my ear. "For that extra touch of sweetness before the main course."
Sonya began to paint the glaze onto my skin, starting from the middle of my chest and moving downwards in slow, deliberate strokes. The feeling was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The brush was cold and sticky, leaving a trail of sweetness in its wake that complimented the sweet fruity taste of the apple still lodged in my mouth. The sensation of the bristles against my skin was both soothing and unsettling, a strange blend of comfort and horror that seemed to encapsulate the entire experience.
The glaze left a tingling feeling on my skin that morphed quickly into an itchy sensation, and soon I found myself writhing against the pole. My body was a canvas of frustration as I felt the bristles of the brush continue to drag against my skin, leaving behind a sticky trail of coldness that made me shiver in the warm embrace of the fire. The orange glaze was thick and gooey, sticking to me like a second, unyielding skin that seemed to amplify the heat from the grill.
"You've been more docile than normal during this shoot so I added a pinch of cinnamon to the glaze, that should wake you up," Sonya murmured, her eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure that sent a chill down my back. The brush made its way down my torso, painting a path of sticky heat that seemed to sizzle against my oiled skin.
Lost in my new found agony I didn’t notice Sonya reach out and press the button until I felt the pole begin to turn again and I couldn't help but let out a muffled scream around the apple in my mouth. The sudden movement after the brief respite was a shock to my system, sending a fresh wave of adrenaline through my veins as my body twisted and contorted as I was spun back over the grill, the heat now a constant, pressing presence that seemed to sear my skin even through the glass.
I was sure my skin wasn't actually burning, the itch and sting from the orange cinnamon glaze was most likely the culprit for the sensation. I wasn't confident Sonya wouldn't do anything to harm me permanently, but that didn't mean the sensation I was experiencing was any less terrifying. The plastic pineapple slices tugged at my nipples with each rotation, the clamps biting as my gooey breasts were menaced by gravity's merciless torture.
Sonya circled me, snapping pictures with the camera that was an extension of her hand, her eyes never leaving her viewfinder. She was the artist, and I was her masterpiece. The flash from the camera pierced the shadows, the strobe lighting up Sonya’s face in a macabre display of pleasure and focus. Each flash was like a knife, slicing through the darkness to capture my most vulnerable moments.
I struggled relentlessly as the pole continued its rotation, the cameras' insistent clicking a symphony of violation that surrounded me, each flash a spotlight on my helplessness. The orange glaze seemed to sizzle and burn with every pass over the grill, the cinnamon's bite was making me a living, writhing tableau of pain and pleasure, my body a canvas for Sonya’s twisted art.
It must have been another ten minutes of picture taking, because when I finally looked up, I noticed Sonya was setting up a tripod right beside my head. The cold steel legs of the device clicked and clacked against the stone floor as Sonya positioned it, each sound echoing in the tense silence like a death knell. Securing her camera with practiced ease, Sonya angled the camera to get a stable close up of my face while keeping the rest of my body in focus.
My eyes focused on Sonya’s as she bent forward to look through the camera's viewfinder. The artist's face was a mask of intense concentration, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed as she framed the shot. The red light on the camera blinked menacingly, a silent countdown to the next flash that would capture my torment. My breaths were shallow and fast, the sticky glaze making me feel like a roasting marshmallow, and the plastic fruit clamps on my nipples a constant reminder of my predicament.
Sonya pulled out a small black remote she had tucked…somewhere and fingered a button on it. My curiosity piqued and I watched the woman's thumb hover over a button, her eyes flicking up to meet hers with a mischievous twinkle. In that split second, I knew I was about to experience something new, something that would subdue me further into the abyss of fear and pleasure.
But nothing could have prepared me for the sudden, intense jolt of pain that shot through my body as Sonya depressed the button on the remote. The plastic pineapple slices around my nipples had been hiding a darker secret: they were in fact, small electroshock devices. The shock was like a bolt of lightning, searing through my body from my breasts to my toes, making every nerve ending scream in agony.
My eyes bulged ridiculously wide as I screamed into the apple lodged in my mouth, my entire body jolted by the sudden, intense electric shock from the pineapple clips. The sound was muffled by the fruit, but the expression on my face must have been clear: a mix of horror and pain that would surely make for a powerful image. Through my agony my hypothesis was confirmed as I heard the rapid fire of a camera shutter, capturing my distress with a sickening efficiency.
My body convulsed wildly for a moment before the world went black. When I came to, I found the fire had died down to a dull ember, the pole had stopped moving, leaving me hanging limp and utterly exhausted. The only sound was the dull throb of my own heartbeat, echoing through my ears like a mournful drum.
My eyes focused slowly, blurring and then sharpening to find Sonya, not holding the camera but instead speaking into an intercom across the room. "Is the dining room ready?"
The crackle of a voice responded, "Yes, Mistress."
"Good then send Gustav and Fredrick in. We're ready for the final touches," Sonya said, her voice a symphony of excitement and sadism. I felt a cold dread creep through me as the words sank in. The photoshoot wasn't over. It was just moving to the next stage.
The door to the studio swung open and the two burly butlers marched in, their expressions as impassive as ever despite the bizarre sight before them. They approached me, each one grabbing an end of the pole I was bound to. With surprising gentleness, they lifted me off the base, my body swung slightly as they carried me out of the room.
I now truly knew what it felt like to be meat on a spit as Gustav and Fredrick carried me through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion. My eyes darted around, taking in the grandeur of the decor, the heavy velvet drapes, and the glint of gold fixtures that seemed to mock my current state of undress and bondage. The polished mahogany floorboards, the opulence of Sonya’s home a twisted backdrop to the depravity that occurred within its walls.
The dining room was as light and day when compared to the dungeon-like studio, with its high ceilings, elaborate chandeliers, and walls lined with ornate tapestries. The long dining table was a spectacle of wealth and decadence, groaning under the weight of fine china and silverware that gleamed in the candlelight. The aroma of roasting meats and baked goods filled the air, mingling with the scent of fresh fruits and vegetables displayed on the grand sideboard. In the middle of this opulence lay a long silver platter, gleaming and inviting.
My heart raced as I was hoisted onto the table with the grace of a roast being served to royalty. Gustav and Fredricks secured my pole to a similar contraption that was set up at the center of the platter, the cold metal against her skin sending a shiver through me. The platter was already laden with greens, fruits, and vegetables, creating a macabre bed for me to hang over.
Sonya strutted in, her leather apron squeaking against her thighs and I watched as she took everything in with a smile that was both pleased and predatory. She picked up a large carving knife, the blade glinting in the candlelight. The sound of it being drawn from its sheath was like a gun being cocked, a promise of pain that sent a fresh jolt of terror through my veins.
"I'm joking dear! Seriously, I would never do anything to damage that pretty skin," Sonya said with a tinkle of laughter, setting the knife down. The relief that flooded me was short-lived as Sonya picked up a small roll of clear tape.
"But I do need to capture the right expression," Sonya mused, peeling off a piece and moving closer to my face. My eyes widened in genuine horror as Sonya approached me with the tape. I knew the woman was insane, but this was a new level of crazy. Sonya leaned in, her breath hot against my cheek as she tried to lift my eyelids.
My body stiffened, and I clenched my eyes shut, jerking my head to the side. "Hold still," Sonya snapped, her grip on the tape tightening. The fight was futile, my muscles already exhausted from the previous ordeals, but fear and adrenaline gave me a feeble strength. Sonya’s smile grew more twisted with each failed attempt.
"Alright dear, fine, I'll give you an option, you either keep still so I can finish this shoot or I'll stick this..." Sonya held up a large wide black dildo attached to a short pole similar to the one she was shackled to, "into your asshole and hook it up to the spit and you can spend the rest of the day rotating over the table."
I felt bile rise in my throat, the thought of the cold metal penetrating my ass was almost too much to bear. I took a deep breath and nodded as best as I could with the apple in my mouth. Sonya stepped back and placed the tape on my eyelid and stretched it back until it stuck to the skin just below my eyebrow. When she had finished with the second I was not only unable to close my eyes but was forced to look directly up at the chandelier, the lights glinting down like tiny stars that pierced my retinas.
"Perfect, see that wasn't so hard," Sonya murmured as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. I panicked for a moment as I felt Sonya’s fingers fiddling with my rear, to my shock I then felt the vibrating egg being pulled from inside me. The relief was mixed with confusion until Sonya held up the egg for me to see, it was dangling from a wire and was still quietly buzzing away. Then the tension in the room thickened, my heart hammered in my chest as the cold rubber of the dildo was placed against my anus. The pressure was unbearable, and I clenched my muscles, trying to push it away, but my body was too tired to resist. Sonya chuckled, "Relax, it'll be much more pleasant if you just let it in," she said, her voice low and seductive.
I couldn't believe it, I had stayed still as Sonya had asked and she was punishing me anyway. The dildo's intrusion was cold and unyielding, the pressure building until it was almost too much to handle. I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek, and the sweetness of the apple in my mouth no longer offered any comfort.
*clink*
The sound of the dildo's base being attached to the pole was like a final nail in the coffin of my dignity. The room felt like it was spinning around me as Sonya stepped away, the cold steel and rubber pressing into my skin. The anticipation was unbearable, and I could feel the muscles in my neck straining from the tension.
Sonya’s heels clicked rhythmically on the marble floor as she circled the table, camera in hand. The flashes were a strobe of torment and I couldn't even blink to ease the burning sensation that washed over my retinas with each shot. The fruit slices on my nipples were a constant throb of pain, and the sticky glaze was a prison that trapped the heat against my body. I tried to focus on the chandelier above me, the flickering lights a hypnotic pattern that I hoped would dull the ache in my body. But it was no use, every sound, every movement, every sensation was amplified, searing its way into my consciousness.
Sonya’s voice was a siren's call, guiding me through the last moments of the photoshoot, her words a mix of praise and threats that kept me poised on the edge of panic.
"Keep your eyes looking forward as if you really had been roasted, I want the client to think you've been cooked to perfection," Sonya instructed, her voice a sadistic caress in the oppressive silence of the opulent dining room.
I just stared ahead, tears continuing to trickle down my cheeks, as Sonya’s camera shutter echoed through the grand dining room. My eyes felt dry and gritty, held open by the cruel tape, and I was unable to blink away the burning sensation.
Sonya’s footsteps grew more frantic, her excitement palpable as she circled the table, snapping away from various angles. "Almost done," she murmured, her voice a mix of sweetness and sadism. "Just a few more shots and we're finished for today."
Taking one last close up shot, I heard Sonya let out an exultant "Yes! Aaaand we're done!" The camera clicked off, and the room fell silent, except for the faint crackling of the candles. Sonya’s face appeared in my line of vision, her eyes alight with triumph and a smear of sweat glistening on her forehead.
I didn't flinch as Sonya ripped the tape from my eyelids, the pain a mere echo of the torment that had come before. With relief I closed my eyes, the darkness bringing a momentary reprieve from the glaring lights and Sonya’s hungry gaze. The silence was thick with tension as I waited for what would come next.
My body felt heavy and leaden as Sonya’s cool fingers began to work at the clamps on my nipples. The pain was sharp and immediate as the plastic fruit slices were removed, the blood rushing back into my abused flesh with a stinging ferocity. I gritted my teeth, biting down on the apple just to keep from crying out.
Sonya’s touch was surprisingly gentle as she unhooked the bar holding the dildo in place, the cold rubber sliding out of me with a sickening wetness that left me feeling violated and exposed. I didn't dare hope that this was the end of my ordeal, knowing that Sonya no doubt had more twisted delights in store for me. I was proven correct as with a snap of her fingers the two men from earlier approached.
"Lower her onto the platter...I'm famished." Sonya’s words sent a shiver down my spine as Gustav and Fredricks carefully maneuvered the pole until I lay sprawled across the silver serving platter. The cold metal was a shock to my overheated skin, the fruit and vegetables beneath me providing a cushion of sorts.
A high back chair was placed directly in front of me, and Sonya took a seat, her legs crossed and a predatory smile playing on her lips as she surveyed the tableau before her. "You know, this has been one of the most peculiar shoots I've ever done, and yet, it's also been one of the most... satisfying." The sadistic glint in her eyes was unmistakable.
Without warning, Sonya reached for a carving fork and a plate of roast pork. She sank the tines into the tender, juicy meat, tearing it free with a savage grace that was almost mesmerizing. The scent of the food was tantalizing, and despite my fear and revulsion, I felt a pang of hunger. My stomach rumbled, a traitorous reminder of the basic need that Sonya had been playing with all along.
Sonya’s gaze never left mine as she brought the dripping meat to my chest, the tines of the fork piercing the meat gliding through the sticky orange glaze. The metal was warm from the food, leaving a trail of heat on my skin that made me shiver. Sonya’s eyes were like a ravenous predator's, watching every twitch and tremble of my body with a hunger that went beyond the physical.
With a flick of her wrist, Sonya slid the carving fork through the glaze on my skin again, the juices from the pork mingling with the sticky mess that had been painted onto my body. Each stroke was deliberate, a silent message of power and control that sent a shiver down my spine. The meat was brought to her mouth, and Sonya took a bite, her teeth sinking into the tender flesh with a gusto that was both disturbing and arousing.
I couldn't help squirming slightly as a piece of salmon was next to be plucked from a nearby platter by the carving fork. Sonya’s gaze never wavered from mine as the fork slid through the sticky cinnamon glaze on my stomach, leaving a glossy trail behind. Sonya took another bite, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. The salty taste of the fish contrasted sharply with the sweet burn of the glaze, and she let out a contented sigh.
Humiliation and arousal warred within me as I watched Sonya devour the meats with a disturbing relish, each piece coated with the sticky reminder of my own suffering. The woman's teeth gleamed in the candlelight as she took another bite, the juices dripping down her chin. The sight was both repulsive and intoxicating, a twisted dance of power and submission that played out before my eyes.
"These meats are absolutely delicious, but one cannot live on protein alone," Sonya murmured, her eyes glinting with a dark amusement as she surveyed the table. "Vitamins are important as well."
My eyes widened as Sonya plucked a thick, succulent carrot from the platter. I watched as her hand glided forward, the orange tip of the carrot pointing straight at me. Sonya’s thumb caressed the carrot with a glint of mischief before she leaned in, her gaze never leaving mine. Instead of sliding the carrot through the sticky glaze on my skin, Sonya brought it to my entrance, teasing the folds before she pushed it in.
The unexpected intrusion made me gasp, my body tensing around the foreign object. Sonya’s eyes lit up with excitement as she began to pump the carrot in and out of me, the juices from my own arousal coating the vegetable. The sensation should have been strange and unpleasant, but I couldn't help the way my body responded to the rhythmic motion. I felt a twinge of both fear and a perverse kind of excitement, the line between the two blurring as Sonya continued to play with me.
Pulling the carrot from my trembling body, Sonya’s eyes gleamed with a dark delight that mirrored the fiery glaze on my own skin. With a smirk, she slowly inserted the dripping carrot inside of her mouth, biting down with a crunch that echoed through the tense air. I couldn't look away as Sonya chewed, savoring the flavor of my own degradation. It was a display of dominance so raw and primal that it sent a shiver down my spine.
"Delicious," Sonya said, licking the last of her juices from her lips. I couldn't help but feel a strange, twisted thrill at watching Sonya devour the very object that had been used to invade my most intimate space.
Sonya’s gaze traveled back to the platter, her eyes landing on a ripe, red strawberry. She picked it up between her thumb and forefinger, the fruit's juices mixing with the sticky glaze on her hand. "Now, let's not forget dessert," she whispered, her eyes never leaving mine. With a smirk, she brought the strawberry to my breasts, tracing the curve of one with the fruit's tip. The coolness of it against my feverish skin was almost a relief, until Sonya’s teeth sank into the berry, the juice spurting out and mixing with the glaze that coated me.
I felt a strange mix of disgust and arousal, my body betraying me once again. Sonya leaned closer, her eyes locked on mine, and slid the bitten strawberry over her own glossed lips, painting them with a crimson kiss. The sight was obscene, and yet, it was undeniably erotic.
Sonya then reached forward and plucked the large apple out of my mouth with a swift motion, tossing it aside with a wet smack. "Now, now, let's not let the fruit go to waste," she cooed, her eyes flicking to the half-eaten strawberry in her hand. She brought it back to my chest, the fruit's juices mixing with the sticky glaze to create a tantalizingly sweet and salty concoction.
I couldn't help licking my lips as the sweet scent of strawberries filled the air. Sonya chuckled at my reaction, her eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. "Good girl," she murmured, before leaning in and locking lips with her bound model. The kiss was deep, passionate, and punctuated with the tart taste of the fruit juices that still clung to Sonya’s mouth.
The kiss went on and on, Sonya’s tongue delving into my mouth, the taste of the strawberry a strange sweetness against the bitter bile that had risen in my throat. I felt myself melting into the kiss despite my mind's protests, my body responding to the woman's dominance in ways I never thought possible. Sonya’s hand found my throat, squeezing gently, as if to remind me of the power she held.
Breaking away, Sonya took a step back, her chest heaving with excitement. "You know what?" she said, her voice thick with desire. "You've been such a good little model, I think you deserve a treat." She turned to Gustav and Fredrick, who had been standing at the side of the room, watching the scene unfold with the same dispassionate gaze they had earlier. "Clean her up," she ordered, her eyes still on me. "And bring her to my suite."
My eyes widened in alarm, up til now Sonya hadn't allowed anyone else to touch me. Gustav and Fredrick approached the table with a sense of purpose that was both terrifying and a strange relief from Sonya’s personal attentions. They worked swiftly, unbuckling the metal shackles that bound me to the pole, lifting me from the platter with a careless ease that suggested they were used to moving human furniture around the mansion.
My body felt heavy and sluggish as Gustav's firm grip wrapped around my biceps, dragging me from the table and out of the dining room. my legs stumbled over the marble floor, the bottom of my heels sticky with the remnants of the glaze and my own fluids that had dripped as I rotated. Fredricks followed close behind, his large hand clamped around my waist, ensuring I couldn't escape even if I found the strength.
The bathroom was a large, gleaming space of white marble and chrome fixtures. After removing my heels, collar and shackles, Gustav and Fredrick maneuvered me to the edge of a sunken tub filled with steaming water, scented with an exotic bouquet that filled my nostrils and made my head swim. Gustav's firm grip didn't falter as he began to scrub the body oil and glaze from my skin with a soft loofah, his movements surprisingly gentle despite his rough exterior.
Fredricks maintained a firm hold on me as Gustav's gentle strokes with the loofah washed away the sticky residue of the orange glaze and cinnamon that had painted my body. The warm water stung my sensitive skin, bringing a mix of pain, shame and relief. I felt exposed, my body laid bare before these two men who treated me as if I were nothing more than an object to be cleaned and handled. Yet, the tender care in Gustav's touch was by comparison a wonderful reprieve from Sonya’s cruel attentions, offering a strange comfort in this twisted world I found myself trapped within.
I opened my mouth to speak only to be cut off by Frederick's gruff tone, "The mistress did not give you permission to speak." He held my chin firmly as Gustav finished lathering my body, the warm water cascading over my skin, mixing with the suds of the expensive body wash. The bathroom's grandeur was lost on me, the only thing I could focus on was the heavy weight of Fredrick's hand and the gentle yet firm touch of Gustav's as he scrubbed me clean.
A knock on the door drew Gustav's attention away from his task, and he called out, "Enter." The maid from earlier entered carrying a tray with clothes and a glass of water, which she set down on the vanity before exiting without a word. Twenty minutes later I was once again being led through the hallways of Sonya’s mansion by leash and collar, the only sound were the echoes of my latest pair of heels. After being washed and dried, Sonya’s, for lack of a better term, henchman had dressed me in the outfit the maid had delivered.
The purple halter nightie clung to my curves like a second skin, the delicate lace at the top offering no modesty as it cupped my breasts, pushing them up and out. The material was thin and soft, leaving little to the imagination. The thigh high stockings were sheer, their softness whispering against my freshly cleaned skin as I was forced to take small, mincing steps thanks to the towering platform mule sandals I had been placed in. The sandals were a vibrant shade of purple that matched the nightie and the rope that bound my wrists behind my back.
*knock knock*
Gustav paused outside the set of grand double doors, his grip on my leash tight as we waited for Sonya’s summons.
"Bring her in," Sonya’s voice called out from beyond the doors, a mix of impatience and anticipation. Gustav opened the door, and led me to where Sonya sat on her bed with her laptop open. She paid little mind to either of us as she looked to be engrossed in something on the screen.
"You may leave Gustav," Sonya said without looking up from her laptop, her voice cool and collected. Dropping my leash Gustav nodded curtly and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. The click of the lock echoed through the suite, and I felt a renewed sense of isolation and fear.
Sonya’s eyes remained on the screen for a few more moments, her fingers tapping away before she finally looked up, her gaze raking over my clean, bound form with a critical eye. "You clean up nicely," she murmured, the corner of her mouth quirking into a smile. "Now, come sit next to me."
I felt the command resonate within me, a strange compulsion to obey despite my hatred for the woman before me. With a heavy sigh I awkwardly climbed onto the bed, my legs trembling with the effort of keeping myself upright. The mattress sank slightly under my weight as I shuffled across the plush comforter, the movement awkward and degrading in my heels. Sonya watched me with a smug expression, her eyes gleaming with triumph as I settled down beside her.
I let out a small 'eeep' as Sonya wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me closer, the leather collar and rope biting into my skin as I was forced to comply. I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of anger and excitement as I sat beside Sonya on the bed, my body still humming from the intense photoshoot.
Unlike the previous evening, Sonya wasted no time in setting her laptop aside and tilted my head to face herself. Soft plump lips sealed themselves over mine, her tongue forcing its way into my mouth with a demand that was not to be denied. I felt a strange mix of anger and excitement as Sonya’s hand found the back of my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair as she deepened the kiss. It was a power play, and I knew it, but my body was now responding to Sonya’s dominance in ways I couldn't control.
Pulling back from her I felt dazed as Sonya’s thumb traced my swollen bottom lip with a gentle touch, smearing the lip gloss that coated Sonya’s lips. "Good girl," Sonya murmured, her eyes dark with satisfaction. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger at the ease with which Sonya could flip from cruel dominatrix to affectionate lover. "I must say you did admirable work today," Sonya continued, her eyes raking over my trembling form. "I sent a few test shots to the client, he was absolutely thrilled and wired the full payment as well as a bonus. So, I thought we should celebrate."
Her hand slid over to the nightstand where a covered tray and a chilled bottle of champagne with two glasses sat. The clink of glass and the pop of the cork pierced the silence, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. Sonya poured us both a glass, the liquid a sparkling gold under the soft light of the bedside lamp. She took a sip, her eyes never leaving mine. The rich, fizzy flavor of the champagne floated through the air, mingling with the scent of the vanilla candles that burned on the dresser.
I was forced to lean back as Sonya lifted the glass to my own lips, the crisp fruity bouquet tingled on my tongue as I was forced to down the whole glass. I felt the warmth spread through me, mixing with the heat from my arousal. Sonya’s hand slid down my throat as I swallowed, a silent command to keep my eyes on the woman who had so thoroughly claimed my body.
Having not eaten since this morning I could feel the champagne hit me almost immediately. Sonya noticed the flush rising in my cheeks and chuckled, setting the glass down on the nightstand. "Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," she said, her hand tracing a line from my throat down to the top of my breasts. "There's so much more to be done tonight, but first you haven't eaten since breakfast."
With that, Sonya leaned over to grab the covered tray from the nightstand. She removed the lid with a dramatic flourish, revealing a plate of the exquisite foods from earlier. There was salmon, pulled pork, linguini, and a smattering of vegetables, all displayed in a way that made my stomach growl with hunger despite my state of undress and the unorthodox dinner setup. Sonya took a piece of meat and brought it to my lips, watching with a glint of amusement as I parted them to accept the offering.
The salty, savory flavor of the pork was heavenly on my tongue, and I couldn't help but moan as I chewed and swallowed, my eyes fluttering closed. When I opened them again, Sonya was watching me intently, a smug smile playing on her lips. "Good," she murmured, feeding me another bite. "You're going to need your energy as I plan to reward you for all the money and renown you earned me today."
I must have had a confused look on my face because Sonya leaned back, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she took a sip of her wine. "It appears our commission was quite the success," she said, her eyes sparkling with something that looked suspiciously like pride. "Because not only was the client so thrilled with the test shots that sent a bonus, but he's also already recommended my services to several of his... associates."
My heart sank as the reality of my situation set in. "You mean..." I began, my voice shaking slightly.
Sonya nodded, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Yes, darling. Your performance was so exquisite that my little side project has turned into quite the profitable venture." She took a bite of salmon, her eyes never leaving mine. "And thanks to you, my reputation as the top bondage artist in the underground market has skyrocketed. The money, the commissions, the power," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "It's all because of you."
I felt a strange mix of dread and pride at my captor's words. Despite the horror of my situation, I couldn't deny the thrill of being the object of such intense attention and desire. As Sonya fed me more bites of food, my mind raced with the implications of what was to come. More photoshoots, more clients, more of this twisted world where my suffering was someone else's pleasure.
Sonya set the tray aside and took my chin in her hand, tilting my face upward. "But let's not forget," she said, her voice a soft purr, "you're here to serve a purpose, and I expect you to do so willingly...or not, either way will be quite enjoyable." With that, she leaned in and kissed me again, her tongue pushing past my lips to dance with hers.
The rest of the evening was a blur of Sonya’s skilled hands and mouth, exploring my body in ways I never knew were possible. Each kiss and caress was a battle of power, a silent negotiation of control and submission. Sonya’s touch was both tender and demanding, leaving me torn between the desire for more and the need to resist. The champagne had done its work, loosening my inhibitions and making me more pliant to Sonya’s will.
When the next morning came, I was once again whisked away to Sonya’s studio where I was subjected to a whole new bondage scenario where I played the part of an unwilling harem girl. I was bound in glittering gold and silk, my wrists tied above my head with a luxurious scarf that matched the gold of the decor. Sonya had clearly put a lot of thought into this set, with plush pillows scattered across the floor and velvet drapes hanging from the ceiling to create an opulent backdrop for her photos.
It wasn't all pleasant either as torture scenes involving a whip and a chair that was definitely not meant for sitting played out before the camera lens. Each snap of the whip was a reminder of my captivity, each tug on the scarf a reminder of my bondage. Yet, even in this role, I found my body responding to the pain, betraying me with a twisted thrill that was as confusing as it was mortifying.
And that was how the next week of my life went, each day brought a new twisted reality set in Sonya’s sadistic playground. The photo-shoots grew increasingly intense, with new and creative ways of binding me, each more degrading than the last. Sonya’s excitement was ever palpable as she positioned me just so, ensuring every curve and line of my body was on display for the camera's greedy lens.
The days bled into one another, a never-ending cycle of pain, fear, and strange pleasure that left my mind in a whirlwind of confusion. I hated Sonya with every fiber of my being, and yet, I couldn't deny the way my body responded to the woman's touch. The line between art and abuse grew ever thinner, until it was all but invisible.
And so it was that I’d experienced a day that was unlike any other in Sonya’s mansion of bondage and sadism. Sonya had received a particularly intriguing request from a client who was fascinated with the concept of taking advantage of a nurse and dressing her up in a slutty uniform that was as sexy as it was cliché.
End Part 2