We’re getting ready for bed when he calls me over and tells me to hold out my wrists. He fastens one cuff then the other, then connects them by a length of heavy chain. He does the same with my ankles. Then he takes my hand and leads me to the closet.
“Time for bed, little one.”
He opens the door to reveal a thick, large dog bed covering the floor of the closet, with pillows and cozy blankets on top. I’m not sure how to feel. But he kisses my forehead and nods his encouragement. I drop to my knees and crawl inside. Then he says goodnight and closes the door.
I hear him moving around—the familiar sounds of him undressing and getting in bed. I imagine him reading for a bit or maybe stroking his cock. It feels lonely to be apart from him like this. I have grown accustomed to falling asleep with his body on mine. But not tonight. I pull the blankets over myself and curl up on the bed he made for me. It’s cold at first, but the blankets are fuzzy and soft. I feel the weight of his chains as I find the right position. Then slowly, they begin to warm against my breasts. Before long, this place doesn’t feel cold or lonely. He is with me, and I am his.
I awaken the next morning to the door opening. Sunlight spills in for just a moment before he pulls the blanket up to uncover my ass, then covers my face with it. Without a word, he pushes his cock into my ass. I gasp. He pauses to let me adjust. Then he begins slowly fucking me. Before long, it feels good. Soooooo good. But I know my role here. I am just a hole. Property, with no other purpose than service. I know I won’t cum. I know asking permission will just be a signal for him to stop, so I try to hold off as long as I can. He edges himself in my ass over and over. I’m whimpering and shaking by the time he pulls out. Then he replaces his cock with a thick plug, and he shuts the door without saying a word, plunging me back into darkness.
He comes back several times to remove the plug and fuck my ass. Then he plugs me and leaves. I come out of the closet to crawl to the bathroom, but that’s it. At first, my mind is busy trying to anticipate his next move. I try to work out how long before he comes back again and what he might do. But before long, my mind goes quiet. Blank. I lose all sense of time. I drift in and out of consciousness, unable to hold onto a thought for long. I am only these chains and this sore, stretched ass. The rest of me is air. Nothingness. I only materialize when he is with me. When he makes me real by making me his.
Then he opens the door and instructs me to come out. I crawl slowly, chains clanging between my wrists and ankles. The sun is so bright now. It must be mid-afternoon. He unfastens the cuffs, first from my wrists and then my ankles. I miss the chains almost immediately. Then he leads me to the bathroom by my hair, gently but firmly. He has drawn me a bath. My coffee is waiting, along with some cookies. I lower myself into the bath, and he sits down on the floor next to the tub. He kisses my forehead and strokes my hair. My head is still full of wispy clouds. It’s hard to hold onto anything but him. But he is there, solid and unmoving. My anchor to the world.
Slowly the pieces of me come back and begin to solidify. But now everything feels clear and light. More pure somehow. I know who I am and where I belong. I know what matters. And I look forward to the next time he wraps me in his chains and leads me to the place he created for me—for us. His little slave, kept safe and warm and used in the closet.
