Plenty of time to think about just you’ve signed up for!

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Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@alice-misty-k
Plenty of time to think about just you’ve signed up for!
Ready for the weekend!
Lucky girl! ❤️
Of course I romanticize my future with my captive. How could I not? It’ll be mine for the rest of its life. The legality and morality of our arrangement means it’s more binding than a marriage.
Maybe I’ll treat the day I finally bring it home like a wedding. Dress it up all cute n fancy while it’s knocked out. I’ll wear a pretty gown. I worry about wearing white, if it gets confused and I have to hurt it I don’t wanna stain my dress : ( but maybe red or pink? I can guide it by knifepoint to dance with me to its favorite songs. Bring it flowers (Its favorite used to be jasmine, I’ll have to find out what it likes now) and gifts.
It doesn’t get a wedding ring, I can’t trust it with something like that right away, but I think the pretty cuffs will suffice. And of course it’ll take my last name. That tradition feels so right. My darling possession, marked with my name. Maybe I’ll even get it collar tags with whatever first name I give it and my last name. New name, new home, new owner, new life! Deserves to be celebrated.
is it pathetic for a captor to need her captive like she needs oxygen? Is it pathetic that I need it to love me more than it has ever loved anyone? I need to be everything to it. I need to be its whole life. I need it to forget everything else, forget who it was without me, forget everyone else. I need to be its one and only.
Do you think it’s pathetic, pet? Do you look down on me, from down there on the floor? I just can’t bear it, the idea that I love you more than you love me. You love me, don’t you? You love me.
Actually being kidnapped after years of fantasizing about it, having all of my expectations shattered, my trust betrayed, and being scared out of my mind. Begging to be let go and being told this is what I wanted, this is what I asked for.
My captor went through the effort of snooping through all of my socials to gather enough info to be able to take me in the first place, so of course she knew, I was stupid and I ignored all of the signs.
She knew exactly how to drag me in, exactly what to say, exactly how to act, everything fine tuned to lure me into her grasp so I'd never see the sun without her permission again.
Knowing deep down that it's my fault, and promising myself that ill find a way out. Only to be slowly broken in over the course of a few weeks, or maybe a few months. I'll stare in the mirror one day and find myself in the exact position I fantasized being in so long ago. Dead eyed, collared, bound, bruised beyond comprehension, desperate for any ounce of attention, smiling, knowing I've finally found my place.
I’ll supervise you while you build your prison.
I’m sure after weeks and weeks in the bare basement without any enrichment (outside of the injuries I’ve gifted you) you must be starving for a task. A job to do. Don’t you want to be useful?
The upstairs needs to be prepped, it’s just not set up to hold a pet like you yet. You do want to live upstairs, don’t you? Where it’s warm and soft and nice? Of course you’d be happy to do the work to get the upstairs ready.
it’s not easy to hold onto a thing like you. So many long heavy screws to fasten the eye plates to the walls, to give me someplace to lock your chain. So many bars and bits and pieces to assemble your cage. The sensors that set off your shocker need to be placed and calibrated. Feet of chain and rope and tape need to be sorted and stored and maintained. My whips, paddles, and crops need to be put away but always close at hand. The leather of your collar should be conditioned and the metal of your cuffs polished.
I’m sure you’d do it well. Of course youd try to be incompetent at first. Why properly screw in a padlock anchor when you’re hoping to unscrew it later? Soon you’ll learn the rewards of a job well done. Soon you’ll realize that I always catch your little attempts at incompetence and react accordingly.
I’m sure you’re going trap yourself so perfectly. I’m sure you’ll make it so you can never escape. And isn’t that just the worst part, pet? You’re imprisoned by your own competence.
You're not going to get out.
I know that's what you've been thinking. I've been treating you more like a lover. You think that because I let you sleep chained to my bed instead of on the cold basement floor that I'm going to get sloppy, that I'll start trusting you, that you'll have the chance to escape. I know how that brain of yours works. On some level you have to know the truth- you'll never get out of here.
You probably had a better chance of getting out before, when you were still a cold, crying thing in the basement, before I brought you upstairs to stay with me. I hardly cared, then, you were just another pet. A thing pretending to be a person that was just slow enough for me to catch. If you ran off or died or lost your marbles I'd just get a new one. Your cuffs were one-size-fits-all and the basement window has always been broken. You had a chance then. Not anymore. I'm more careful- you're special now. You made yourself irreplaceable.
You're padlocked to the wall when awake and the bed when you sleep. The chain is thick and your cuff is fitted perfectly. You're microchipped. You're cuffed and collared and branded. Its all permanent. Your captivity is permanent. I don't know why you delude yourself, you're not earning my trust. You're just making it so I never, ever want to let you leave.
It's in such a nice position
Such a sweet birthday gesture….. Here’s to many more!
What a cruel and lovely way to spend your birthday as a kidnapped hostage.
Be pretty
An improvement to any aspiring whore
excellent pig!
a favorite for sure!
Ash girl
For instance, one of the regulars I mentioned, never has used me sexually. He is close friend of Master, he was proposed but he laughed it off.
Mine service to him is being his ash tray. No extra condions, no ceremonies: when he is hanging out with Masters either at their place or somewhere out, I know I will be used as ash tray. He calls me "Ash girl".
Whenever he lights up cigarette I am to be around to be of service, and usually he just waves and I either come closer, or even go down on my knees and open my mouth. Depends on his gesture.
He shakes the ash in my mouth and I stand like that, keeping my mouth open. It tastes awfully and each time I know I will sense the taste even tomorrow. Usually he doesn't acknowledge me even, just keeps going with his dialogue or whatever.
I remember the most intense time, once we were at his apartment and he went out to smoke on the balcony. He shouted "Ash girl", waved, and I went out to the balcony with him.
There was a heavy rain there, and part of the balcony was not covered by the roof and the water was just going down. Now fully, but still. He positioned me right in the place and explained it is more comfortable for him. I stood there, on harsh cold wet cement floor, the floor hurt so much and it was so uncomfortable and wet. Its texture felt like it was made to hurt bare skin. The drops of water instantly moisturised my dress, ruined my hair and made me look very pathetic. And he just enjoyed his cigarette looking across the horizont, not paying attention to me.
My dress was soaking wet afterwards, my knees red and hurt, and the taste of the ash in my mouth was especially bitter. I have received change clothes afterwards though.
It doesn't have enjoyment part for me physically. It's just providing service. Feeling the ignoring of me as person, the humiliation of being used, that are the parts that make it work for me.
Twice he put the cigarette off against me: once again my skin and once against my tongue. The pain is so special and hurts as hell and so deeply, even as masochist I don't enjoy it.
But usually it's only for ashes, then he puts its off and throws the butt in my mouth. I have to keep it until he leaves, if he decides to have another I have to hold it in my mouth untill he is done with second, while he continues use me to put the ash off. Only when he leaves I am allowed to put it out my mouth.
I am not told to swallow butts, but I can be told to swallow ash.
That's almost all interaction we have between each other.
Every time I leave the house, you’ve long since gotten used to being chained like this. While I’m out, living my life and handling my business, you’ll be here in the dark, silently waiting, with no food or water, never knowing how long it will last. And I love keeping you like this so much that sometimes, when I get home, I accidentally forget to let you out.
Source: neilsdamsels