My Night with Gillian (part 1)
By atfirstdawn

*mature content warning for BDSM and torture
*©Keira Morrison/ atfirsdawn 2012

*Dedicated to DarkLordMenchi


Her long loud and constant moaning had finally woken me…

Despite both the windows and curtains being open as wide as they could be, and having kicked my satin sheets to the floor at the foot of the bed, the room was still too stuffy and humid. I ran my fingers through my sweat lathered hair; a consequence of the hot summer's night, and lay in bed with my eyes open, staring at the star and moon-lit harbour outside of the bay window of my bedroom while she continued to moan beneath me…

Home was a lottery win on the sixteenth floor of a circular eighteen storey high tower. Each room was lined with a curved bay window and florescent strip-light that stretched around the entire floor for a 360degree view of the surrounding world. As originally designed, each room was left to scream pretention and modernity, with ivory, cream and silver coated furnishings dotted around sporadically and sporting minimalist signatures and hallmarks, I didn't like it, but it served its purpose and thus there was no great need to redecorate. The view from the window of my bedroom was of the harbour in the distance and beside it, the smog filled city and the dome of light pollution that encompassed them both for miles in every direction. I closed my eyes to the soft and smooth relaxing light of the distant city before another moan, this one angrier than the last, forced my eyes open again…

With a listless and heat fatigued sigh, I pulled myself closer to the edge of the bed and stepped out onto the warm carpeted floor. Facing the side of the bed, I knelt and reached my arms under its metal frame. My fingers clasped the handles of the prison and with three rolling tugs; I pulled out her of the darkness from under the bed and into the modern moonlit room.

Her polished pine confinement was six-foot long; six inches taller than her to accommodate for her shiny black heels. The interior of her narrow coffin-like chamber was lined with a metal welded to the side and base; the base itself, sported hundreds of spiked studs, while thick rings to which her taut ropes were tied, lined the sides. Her round and full breasts pressed uncomfortably against the galvanised steel lattice which tightly blanketed her prison and forced their form to swell through the small square holed design of the unyielding steel lattice as it glistened under the moonlight.

She was a perfect vision of beauty and helplessness; her body was slender and her pale skin was faultless. Her vibrant amber hair, tied in tight neck-length pig-tails, contrasted with her deep dark eye-shadow and light grey eyes, and made her appear as both an unreserved dominatrix and a repressed submissive with a flawless precision, her see-through lace-lined latex maid outfit only served to further enhance her features and curves…

Her infuriated eyes stared back at mine through the thin but solid bars of the wire mesh between us.   Her moans were still long and constant but now held and element of immediacy… I couldn't help but smile at her upon hearing how perfect she sounded.

"What's wrong, do you need the bathroom?" I asked her; the tone of my voice somewhere between commanding and caring. She moaned again with a series of angry growls and shook her head back and forth as much as she could under the strap across her forehead.

"Are you hungry?" my question was met with the same answer… I felt myself frowning. "Then you're not getting out, you know the rules."

Her deep and irritated nasal breaths sounded just as sensual as her muffled moans and as I stared back at her, her light and wide grey eyes spoke to me with the intent of focusing my attention elsewhere on her perfect body…

Her quick and constant glances between my eyes and her body led my attention down from her impatient expression, over her breasts and stomach and to the crotch rope…

"Oh, I see…" I said out loud while I watched her hips grinding and rocking to the best of their ability against the thick length of pleasurable rope between her legs. "…you're frustrated."

Her shrill and muffled agreements filled the smouldering air of the bedroom once more and sounded as if she were begging for release beneath her cruel, three layered gag…

"I guess we need to take your mind off of that then, don't we?" her eyes widened and answered me with a confused and hopeful expression…

Leaving her with a mischievous grin as a response, I made my way to the silver-cream bedside cabinet and opened the drawer. The item I was searching for was the only one in the drawer, taking pride of place as my most cherished possession. The room seemed to brighten as I looked upon it, and with an excited hand I curled my fingers around its sleek and polished wooden handle.

With my world in my hands, I followed her longing and impatient moans back to her side on shaking and excited legs.

Within her cruel and cramped confinement, her limbs were tightly bound; red ropes tied her ankles, her shins and her thighs both below and above her knees. Her wrists were bound to her waist and connected to a tight fitting crotch-rope that she was all too aware of, and her forearms were bound to a coil of rope circling her stomach which playfully restricted her breathing. Her upper arms were bound with a length of rope which encircled her breasts, above, below and between. Each unforgiving strand of rope was then tied to one of the family of steel rings found at her side, keeping her body firmly in place over the uncomfortable spiked studs beneath her.  

I knelt beside her prison and pulled myself on top of the welded mesh; the cold steel felt cool and refreshing through night-dress, but the sensation quickly faded as the metal instantly turned warm under the heat of my body. Looking down at her through the bars, I saw that her expression hadn't changed; she still stared back at me in the hope of some form of pleasurable release…

Her eyes quickly widened upon seeing the item in my hand which I brought up in front of her. Her moaning and muffled pleas rapidly became sharper and louder than they had been before and her body began to convulse without moving an inch within her prison.

Straightening the blade and feeding it through one of the small square openings of the mesh, I pressed the tip of the ice-pick against the skin of her right shoulder, under her collar bone, and began biting at my lower lip as her failed screams intensified.

I watched intently as her flawless skin welcomed the tip of the blade and through its newly welcomed indentation, released a dark red bead of gratitude with the accompaniment of a long and lamenting moan. I swallowed as I rolled the handle of the ice-pick between my fingers which twisted the tip of the blade shallowly buried in her freshly punctured flesh. As she writhed within her confinement and bonds, her body forced the dark red bead out from under the tip of the ice-pick and sent it running across her skin; tracing her collar bone until it slid from her chest and curved around the side of her neck.

My throat was dry and I felt as if I were choking on my heart with the force of each beat that it took against my chest… Taking a deep breath I removed the ice-pick from her shoulder and raised it up and out of the wire mesh. With my forearm, I wiped my sweat dripping hair from my face and met her gaze; her expression was a dissonant mixture of pleading and rebellion.

"Don't worry, I won't go too deep. Not yet anyway, just enough to make you want more." I said aloud as I dragged the tip of the ice-pick across the squares of the wire mesh from her shoulder and over her breasts which bulged through the holes. She took a quick breath as the blade's tip caressed her supple protuberant flesh through the lace lining of her outfit. "Don't worry about those either, we'll save those for last." I said to her making eye contact.

Turning my attention to the ice-pick, I continued to glide the blade downwards, over her stomach and waist and stopped when the tip reached her thigh. I pursed my lips and tightened my grip on the handle as I straightened the blade and once again passed it through the square opening.

She moaned on cue as the ice-pick forced its way into her flesh with more venom than before. Her pale skin instantly let loose the familiar flow of dark red; pulling the ice-pick free of her flesh, I moved the blade down one opening in the mesh and repeated the process once more and caused another high pitched moan which quickly became a deep throated growl. Her thigh was soon awash with a thin film of dark red liquid and I couldn't help but stare…