Laysan and Spirit
By atfirstdawn


*mature content warning
© Keira Morrison/ atfirstdawn 2013


She looks so beautiful and scared, she is my favourite slave and wholly mine, her name is Laysan. She has been locked in her clear Perspex box for three days now; naked, bound hand and foot and cruelly gagged… she is beautiful and breath-taking in every way. Her muffled pleas scream for mercy and release but her eyes beg for her captivity to continue.  

I ask her what it feels like to be bound and imprisoned, locked away where only I can see her, her muffled answers make my heart beat faster and my temperature rise and I can think of no better use for her mouth than for it to be filled by the tightly tied, overly large ball gag she so decadently wears.

Despite the love of her captivity she still struggles against her bonds from time to time. Her hands and feet have long since fallen numb but her attempts to free herself still entertain me, still make my throat dry and still make me want her. Pressing myself up against the small cramped Perspex box makes Laysan do the same in a futile attempt to be close to me and to feel the heat of my body, she wants me as much as I want her but she may only have me if she frees herself. If she were to escape, untie herself and step out from her cramped prison and turn those bonds on me, filling my mouth with her ball gag, binding my wrists and ankles with her ropes, then I would willingly submit to any passions and tortures that she would  visit upon me.

More often than not I find myself wanting her to break free, to untie her bonds and dominate me as I have dominated her, show me that her love is as strong as her will to own and that she has the strength to hurt me and force me to scream. But instead I find her enjoying her captivity; the ropes give her no comfort but the closed in walls of her boxed prison are all that she needs…

I want the heat of her body on mine, I want to hear her gagged moans close to my ear as my hands work their way around and into her body, to have her close to me and to be able to touch her skin is all that I want but I need to know if she loves me, I need to know that her love for me is a as strong as her lust for imprisonment… when she looks at me her eyes are full of longing and I can imagine her words, carefully chosen and clear detailing how deep her love for me truly is but I need to hear it, see it and feel it explicitly, with her voice, her body and her touch, only then will I know what I mean to her…

Until then though, I will remain here, as much as a captive as she is, bound and helpless and silent waiting for her to escape and take control…