Sleeping Beauty
She’s nervous, sitting on a couch. She leafs through a magazine, looks around, fusses with her hair. In a moment of anxiety, she picks up the phone and dials a number. Her friend Donna answers the phone. I think I’m in over my head, she says. Donna is reassuring. Relax, she says. It will be okay. He’s great. He’ll take good care of you. You’ll have great orgasms. You’re going to have fun. Wenona doesn’t seem reassured. PD knocks on the door. When she answers, he gives her a teddy bear as a gift. I have this contract for you to sign, he says. It obliges you to act a certain way over the next several hours. She is reticent. More nervous. The contract refers to her as the “subject” and he is the “handler.” She has to be under his control for the duration of the “event.” It adds to the excitement, he says. It’s part of the scene. Don’t worry. She balks. Almost doesn’t sign. But in the end, she caves. She signs. Nothing terrible. Not yet. But then he has a pill he wants her to take. A sleeping pill. Don’t worry. It adds to the excitement. It’s part of the scene. Nothing to worry about. Not now. Not yet. She takes the pill. He puts a video on the TV. It’s a video of a naked girl in chains and shackled. She’s sweaty and dirty, digging a hole. She’s a good girl, he says. She was locked in a box overnight. It wasn’t so bad. It was cloudy that day, it didn’t get that hot in the box after all. The tape shows the girl with her head locked outside of the box. The head, he says. Don’t you think it’s the prettiest part of a girl? Wenona’s getting sleepy, drowsy. He takes out mitts and puts them on her hands. To protect your nails, he says. I don’t want to ruin your nails. But she’s almost unconscious at this point. She lays her head on his shoulder. She drops off. He sets a plastic transport box next to the couch, undoing her skirt. He rolls her into the box. The lid snaps shut. The screen goes dark. A flashlight shines in the dark. It shows her shirt, her breasts, her body. We hear the in and out of breathing. The flashlight shows a gas mask with her eyes inside, behind the round glass openings. The lights go on. She is on her back, lying on a metal bed. Stocks fasten her ankles, spread apart. Her neck and wrists are fastened in stocks at the other end so that she is stretched out. He cuts off her clothing. Her body is lean, athletic, tight. She struggles. He sits beside her and dials a phone. She’s ready, he says. And already a little wet. He hangs up. He lubes her pussy and cunt and drills a dildo inside of her. Then he toys with her, pulling on her nipples and the hairs of her pussy. He plugs the intake tube of the gas mask. You’ll breathe when I want, he says. And she struggles, distressed. Perhaps she’s thinking, things have now gotten somewhat terrible. Somewhat. This goes on, with him making her plead for air and thanking him when she is allowed to breathe. The gas mask comes off. He tapes her eyes. There is a knock at the door. Donna enters. Wenona has no idea she is there. She kisses Wenona. She runs her fingers over her. Donna bites her nipples, nibbles, pulls at them. She undresses and straddles Wenona. She fingers her pussy, rubbing her breasts on Wenona’s body. Donna’s nipples dangle over Wenona’s mouth, dropping down for a moment, then withdrawing. Wenona is smothered with breast, cutting off her air. After a bit of this, Donna sits on her face, telling her to suck it. Donna’s pussy hovers and Wenona’s tongue and mouth reach. Wenona is smothered with pussy, her excitement rising, but she can hardly move. She’s held in place. A vibrator hums against Wenona’s clit. She comes, with Donna’s cunt smothering her face.
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