getDare Truth or Dare - A work of semi-fictious nonfiction

"So how do you feel?" a cynical, gruff voice asked of her. A foul tasting gag was placed in her mouth, muzzling any noise her voice could make. He smirked and laughed a bit at her. "You passed out on me, slut. Guess you couldn't handle so many orgasms, hm?"

With an incredibly difficult effort, she managed to open her left eye. Through the slit, she made out a blurry image of a muscular, burly man sitting in a chair across from where she lay, in a place setting she could not identify. Neither could she tell much about him, in her present state, save for his intimidating mass and strong forearms. Thoughts rushed, whirling through her mind, "who is he?, why is he here?, what does he want?
...what the hell did he do?..."

She felt her wrists bound tightly by ropes behind her body. She became vaguely conscious to the feeling of being bound with additional ropes wrapped in knots that would otherwise have been quite lovely and painstakingly done, in a rather strange fetish sort of way, she thought. ..Well, if this were under different circumstances, such as if she were not the one knotted up

Flashes of her memory of the night began to seep in. She remembered the pain from various objects, clamps running the length of her stomach, inner thighs, and on every inch of her breasts with two wicked, sharp alligator clamps on each nipple, a hairbrush used for spanking, or so she thought that's what it felt like, and the almost massage-like feeling of a suede leather flogger, relentless on her back, as well as the backs of her thighs and even her neck. She felt embarrassed and ashamed of herself for having actually enjoyed the flogger. Perhaps his laughter at her for getting so wet during it was well deserved. She was His slut in that moment.... No wonder he was still smirking at her now.

But it was the site of a cane in front of her that immediately brought the pain of it's too-sharp bite to her mind. Her eyes opened wide in fear that he may use it again on her as punishment... for anything... she could not remember. At any rate, she knew she had quickly developed a particular dislike toward this simple, but cruel punishment tool.

Lifting her head to see more of him and her surroundings, trying to get a handle on her predicament, her head suddenly began to pound just as violently and incessantly as her alarm clock would back home...

Abruptly she awoke, safe and alone in the securities of her own bedroom, sandwiched between the mattress and half a dozen blankets and sheets. Kicking them off, she groggily rose out of bed, walking into her bathroom, feeling her way there in spite of that familiar disorientation brought on when being forced away from the comforts of sleep. The brightness of the light, as she flicked it on, always hurt her eyes.

And Thus, early morning rituals of getting ready for yet another drudging and mundane day of work began.