Dany struggles with Ridley's humiliating "homework".
Ridley and B both belong to the wonderful @hackles-up .
Content/warnings: intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, psychological whump, referenced/implied noncon, aftermath of noncon, humiliation (a lot of it), captivity, broken trust, noncon use of sex toy, noncon filming.
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The chain is gone; the prison is the same. I'm finally allowed to move through the bedroom and the en-suite without physical restraints.
Instead, Ridley settled on another way to make sure I'm kept in check - and my naive idea that being chained to a fucking bed has been the most humiliated I've ever felt, was proven wrong.
Now, it's the glowing red light of a small camera, mounted on a tripod in the corner.
"Look, it's you!" Ridley says, one hand wrapping my waist from behind, the other excitedly wiggling his phone in front of me, showing the camera's live feed. My vision is still blurry. But I don't need to see the details, anyway. "My adorable fucktoy! Now I can be close you all the time."
I shiver, but don't flinch, when his lips graze my neck. "I'll be heading to work. Remember your homework, hm? I'll probably have B suck me off under my desk, while I'm watching you, babygirl. Or-" He tilts his head as if in thought, as if whatever he says isn't already laid out clear and sharp and ready to strike. "Or, if he's good, I'll allow him to watch you together. My big boy gets really turned on by your pretty mouth. Don't you, B?"
A desperate sob is stuck between the raw walls of my throat, held back by an onslaught of violent ache.
B's shape appears behind us on Ridley's phone screen, dressed in all black again, leather and spikes. I squeeze my lips together, refuse to turn around. I can still taste him.
B clears his throat. "Sir, um," he says. "The car is waiting."
Ridley sighs dramatically. He doesn't turn around either, just lifts his phone to look at all three of us on the screen. "Oh, B. Did you forget? Good pets don't ignore their owners questions."
"She's, um, Miss Dany is very pretty, Sir."
"Quite the cum dumpster, isn't she? B?"
I flinch in Ridley's hold, weakly shake my head. "Please," I croak, feeling tears creep up in my eyes.
"Yes," B says, voice flat and clipped. "Thank you, Sir, for letting me come inside her."
My legs give in. Without Ridley's arm firmly around my waist, I would've crumpled down at his feet. A desperate wail escapes me.
Chuckling, he stows the phone away and turns me around. His amber eyes hungrily scan my face for any emotion. I don't know what he sees, I don't even know what I feel. Horror. Pain. Humiliation. But they are all weighed down by a bone deep exhaustion.
"Oh, Princess," he hums, pulls me flush against him, against the sickening stir of arousal in his pants. He simply place a chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth. "You break for me so easily. Can't wait for the results of your training."
He lets go of me without warning, and with a broken yelp I crash down to my knees. "Now, be a good girl," he singsongs, already turning on his heel to leave. "Daddy is watching."
*
I sit on the bed and stare at the disgusting pink dildo for hours, fight tears and nausea and the pain in my throat, before I finally reach for it.
My vision is still spotty. B's relentless hold of my head is imprinted in my memory. I can't have it become reality again.
The rubber is smooth and cool under my hands. Not warm and alive.
I lift it to my lips, set it down again when a violent wave of nausea surges up. My throat is chafed raw. The memories are enough to suffocate me. I can't do it.
"Please," I whisper, voice still a mere croak. "Please, anything but this."
The red light of the camera is staring at me. Of course there's no reply.
I can imagine it, though. ~But you do have a choice, babygirl~ - the pink abomination, or another brutal assault by a man I irrationally had chosen to trust.
"I don't want this," I say at the camera stubbornly, horrified at how hoarse my voice is, how much it strains me to speak. Still, I fight through it. I'll have to fight through worse, today. "I fucking hate you, Ridley Lordin. You won't get away with doing this to me."
My hand is trembling, as I slide the dildo into my mouth. I croak in pain right away, the moment it passes my lips, where the corners of my mouth have been torn open by the obscene ring gag. That B put on me.
By the time the dildo's tip reaches the bruised roof of my mouth, my tears are running freely.
I try to breathe, find a way to carefully inhale around the hard rubber. It's heavy on my tongue. Like B.
At least it doesn't taste like him. At least I'm not pressed against B's crotch. At least there's not B's fist in my hair, forcing me forward.
It doesn't help. I gag the very moment I reach my throat, rising panic blocking my breath, heart racing.
I don't even know how I manage to pull the thing out of me, but it's laying on the mattress next to me, slick with a film of my spit, as I curl up and cry.
Once the tears are gone, once my heartbeat has returned to normal, I try again.
And again.
I throw up several times. I gag so violently that my teeth clamp into the rubber hard enough to leave marks. The ache becomes a horrible background noise to the levels of humiliation stacked on it.
With legs like rubber, I stumble to the bathroom, clean my face, brush my teeth, stare into my tired, red rimmed eyes. There's little red spots around them. Because I nearly died last night. Choked to death, on a fucking cock.
I won't, I swear to myself. I won't go out like that. I won't.
I find some throat relief pills in the cabinet, gulp them down with a big glass of water, and tumble back to the bed to fall asleep.
*
"Haven't we talked about bed privileges?"
I jerk awake to find myself propped on Ridley's upper thigh, his fingers stroking my face, the other hand holding me down by the collar.
"But I'll let that fauxpas slip, babygirl, because you made Daddy really proud today. Proud, and horny. Really played with the camera there. And still slipped in a little defiance, didn't you? Said my full name into the camera on purpose there? Just in case someone sees it, sweeps in and saves the Princess? Smart move." Ridley hums a melodic jingle, some vaguely familiar video game theme, then shrugs apologetically. "Mh, no. Sorry, Peach. This isn't Super Mario." He reaches for the dildo and winks at me. "This is the game, where the princess gets fucked."
"Don't," I croak, staring warily at the dildo. "Don't. I did what you asked. I put this fucking thing into me. I fucking threw up twice to do what you wanted. You said we had a deal."
"Huh, I forgot, my babygirl considers herself a negotiator. I said I wanted to see results. And yeah, I appreciate the effort, but the outcome..." He spreads his thumb and pinky to measure the length of the dildo, from the tip to the line of my bite marks. "That's... not great, babygirl." He produces a sharpie from somewhere - who the hell just randomly carries a sharpie around? The fucking asshole planned this to the last detail - and dramatically draws a line more than two inches further up. "Here." He taps at the line. "That's the least you should aim for."
"You're a fucking monster," I whisper.
"Fucking, yeah, I guess I'll take that. But monster? Nah. I've got B trained for that job."
He leans in to softly kiss my brow, hand twisting the collar to suffocate my involuntary jerk. "You truly got to understand that, yesterday, didn't you?"
I buck up in sudden panic as I cannot breathe, once again, like today, like yesterday, like with B.
Ridley relieves his hold just enough for me to gasp for air. "Oh babygirl. Did you really think he wouldn't do it? That two days of cuddling a cute girl would undo two mil worth of WRU training?"
My own hand has flung to the collar, but freezes, as I stare up at him, struck by the obscenely high number. "Two... two million dollars?"
"They charge extra for special customization requests. And I had a lot of these." He taps his chin thoughtfully, before he raises an eyebrow at me. "You know what, Princess. I still have all his paperwork. I think it would really serve you to have a look."
