thinking about a captor who trains the word “no” out of my vocabulary. he pretends he’s really big on consent, but it’s actually compliance he’s after, because he’s clearly not averse to coercion. like, i’ve already traded away my clothes for soft blankets in my cage; i take all my meals kneeling by his chair and fed by his hand; i “agreed” to the cameras in the bathroom anytime i clean or relieve myself. but he’s adamant that he won’t fuck me as long as i say “no.”
he reminds me of this after he’s done spanking my cunt for an hour for spilling food from his fingers, and he begs to be allowed to fuck my swollen pussy, but i shake my head and scream the word until my throat goes hoarse. and he doesn’t.
i wake up the next morning with a shock collar around my neck. it doesn’t take very long to figure out what triggers it. and it’s not just the word “no,” though that’s clearly the most important target. it’s also anything that might indicate a negation. i think for a while that day that it must be him triggering it, so i wait until i’m alone in my cage at night, but the shocks still rip through me when i whisper “no” to myself.
it takes a month, or maybe two or three or ten, it’s hard to track the passage of time when my days are filled with electricity and pain. but the pain tapers off. i deny him less and less, still holding on to the one last shred of my pride.
until one day, he stands before me, remote in hand. he caresses the shock collar, and asks to fuck me. and i don’t say no. i don’t shake my head. i don’t even move. just stare blankly at the wall over his shoulder.
a smile crawls over his face and he says, “well that’s not a no,” and splits me open on his cock.