[Officelover]

Part Four: A Quiet Meal

It has been two days. The lights are off when he comes in. She has been stirring in the most humiliating position of her life – yet – for two days. Two days and two nights, what felt like four nights in the dark. She is still frogtied, still naked, still in a trash bag. The residue of the trash – her trash – is caked on her skin. His semen long spilt is hard on her forehead.
When the lights turn on, she is scared. She screams a little. The man approaches her, calmly, and says, “I didn’t tell you these walls were soundproof? Probably wouldn’t make a difference if I had told you – a cunt like you would scream anyways. That’s what I don’t like about you, you scream and scream, and think just because you scream someone will help you. Meanwhile, our planet screams, cries out to us and what do we do?” He loudly slaps her. “We slap her in the face.”
He spits in her eye.
“You’ve completed the first step – you’ve gotten to know your trash and your own wastefulness. You’ve completed the second step too, realizing that you yourself are nothing but trash. Soon, it will be time for you to complete the third step – to help others realize their wrongdoing. But, for now, you must be hungry?” She nods enthusiastically. “When I ask you a question,” he responds, angrily approaching her, “I expect an answer.”
“Yes, I am hungry,” she says, fearfully. She is hungry, though – after two and a half days, she was dying for some sustenance.
He grabs her breasts and twists them. “Yes, master.” He corrects. “I am your teacher, the one putting you on the path to salvation and I demand your respect.”
She howls in pain and answers, “Yes, master!”
“Good.” He brings forward a plate, which he has covered with a white cloth napkin. He begins to untie her, one leg at a time. Once she moves around, she feels awkward (anyone would, after two days of restricting bondage). She starts to get up. He lays a hand on her ass, and says in a low voice, “Stay on your hands and knees.” He begins guiding her over to the plate, gently pushing her ass in its direction. He stops her when she gets in front of it, and takes the indulgence of sticking a finger in her cunt. Then, he moves in front of the plate and pulls off the white cover.
Underneath, on the plate, are the following foods, all mixed together: week-old Lo Mein, some mushy peas, half of a bottle of Thousand Island salad dressing, and a slice of moldy bread. The man takes a small carton of milk, and empties it on the plate.
“You… you want me to eat this?”
“Bon Appétit,” he says jovially. She stares into the face of the plate, miserably, and wonders how she can eat it without throwing up in her mouth. She is, after all, hungry. She tries to pick out the peas, first, from the rest, and plops each one into her mouth.
After about half a minute of this slow, meticulous process, the man grows tired watching her grapple through his ‘meal’. “That is completely rude!” He says, “Out of the kindness of my heart, I bring you a meal I made for you. And this is how you treat it!”
He comes up to the plate, and steps on it. He grinds his shoe back and forth, about twenty times maybe, and then steps off. The whole thing is all mixed together. He lifts up his shoe, and puts it to her face. “Clean it off!”
She does nothing at first, and he pushes it towards her face, nearly kicking it. “Clean off my fucking shoe, bitch!” She takes her tongue and starts gently licking the disgusting mess off his soles. The soles were already pretty dirty to begin with – slurping noodles and picking milk-soaked peas off it only made matters worse. He takes off his shoe, and moves it back and forth over her face. “Open wider!” He tells her.
Not yet content when she’s done, hungry for more, he takes her plate and empties it on the concrete floor. He goes behind the woman, her body still kneeling on the floor, and begins repetitively pushing her face into the mess. “EAT IT ALL!” He tells her, angrily.
She begins eating it. It is, as one might expect, disgusting.