Waiting

I run my hand over the chains, feeling the smooth cold steel against my hands. Their weight is impeccable; heavy enough to weigh down her ankles, but light enough where she can still move just enough. Enough to give her hope, that maybe she could crawl away. I look down on her, naked and pale– tracing the contours of her helpless body with my eyes. She looks back up at me, pleading to be used. “In due time,” I whisper as I kneel to adjust the remaining bondage.

She sits on all fours on the hard concrete, thick metal shackles on each of her ankles, waiting to be chained to the wall. When she asked what I was doing in the basement last week I merely shrugged her off. I notice her knees are already shaking from holding this position, but she knows better than to make a single sound; keeping her gaze to the floor. I smile briefly at this detail; appreciating her dedication to pleasing Me. Her dedication to waiting. I love to keep her waiting…

I run the chain through the rings on her ankle cuffs, wiggling her a little bit as I pass through each cuff; watching her struggle to keep her balance. Her palms are sweating and I can see little droplets starting to form puddles on the floor. She’s been here twenty minutes. Once her ankles are secured, I handcuff her wrists together. Admiring her positioning for just a moment, I see her eyes glance up quickly to survey my approval. I lay a single hand on her head, not saying a word. I feel her lightly rub herself against my hand. “Good pet,” I think to myself.

She is flawless; a perfectly poised doll on the cemented floor. Her knees and palms pressed against the stone are starting to quake more and more as each minute passes. Twenty-five…. thirty…. thirty-five…

I watch, keeping her waiting. I will not touch her at all; just admire her endurance. Keeping her face down, she doesn’t dare to steal another glance. I look over at the implements on the wall, hoping she will fail.

I put a record on the turntable, and “My Girl” by The Temptations slowly fades into the background. I sit in the chair, watching her struggle to keep her position. Scooting closer, I put my feet up on her back– teasing her by pressing the heels of my stiletto ever so slightly into her back. She lets out a faint gasp, and I beam in pride. Lighting up a cigarette, I wonder how much of it I will get to finish before she breaks. I love to see her break.

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