Sensual Sadist

I reached over for a roll of masking tape and began unrolling it and sealing the sides of the box. The tape made that very loud and characteristic sound that it likes to make while being unwound, which was pleasing. It would get him thinking. Within a minute or so the slave was completely sealed into the box, and had not made a sound. I stepped back from the box to look at my handiwork. I saw a stark room with a shoddy old box in it, and I was certain there was no human present. (Human present, haha). Briefly I imagined what it must be like to be confined to a box barely big enough to house you. I began to feel aroused as his imprisonment amplified my freedom and comfort tenfold. “I’ll just put this thing in the corner,” I muttered to myself, and began pushing the (somewhat heavier) box across the wooden floor, until it found it’s place out of the way. “Phew,” I slapped the top of the box, “That gets that out of the way!”, and went into the bedroom to change.

I glanced at the clock. I wanted him in there as long as possible, but since he’d never been in small confinement before, I was a little concerned. I had planned to leave him for one hour, but reduced it to 40 minutes, to be on the safe side. Better to undercook than to burn. My attention then turned to clothes and I forgot all about him. The great thing about being a girl (and it would probably bore you if you were a guy), is the ability to reinvent yourself constantly with clothes. Obviously it doesn’t change you, but it certainly changes how others see you, or what they see of you… not to mention how tall you are! I had deliberately started with dowdy clothes so I could make the most dramatic shift possible.

I chose some patent knee-high boots with block heel which were a shade between innocently cute and subtley wicked. They also made a loud and distinctive noise which was helped no end by the wooden floors. Choosing the boots was enough for now. I walked noisily into the computer room and played my favourite game for what seemed like 10 minutes. 30 minutes had passed so I went back into the bedroom and continued leafing through clothes. I picked the obvious short skirt above the knee and a belt to go with it, and after a few minutes more, a top. I didn’t look particularly kinky, just felt it.

The element of suprise had seduced me. I had slipped my boots into, appropriately enough, a pair of large slippers to muffle the sound, and was walking slowly and softly back to the box. I made very little sound in approaching, and decided against kicking it very hard all of a sudden, as I didn’t want to give the contents a heart attack. I tapped my boot firlmy against the side of the box several times. I heard a sudden jolt from inside. “Time to wake up! I want to see what I’ve been lumbered with.” I began cutting the tape and ripping it off. In my mind he is just some random lowlife who has been sent to me as a slave, say, in some alternate timeline where slavery still exists. Of course he’s also my lover.

Using my knee and hands I pushed into the side of the box, giving him a bit of warning before I toppled it. The slave half-tumbled out, belly down to the lid, which had came off. “What the fuck are YOU?” the venom came from nowhere, asif I were handed an arrow. Walking up behind him I placed my right boot on the left side of his back and felt his flesh through the thin sole, and began to press slowly. “I’m gonna love hurting you, whatever the fuck you are.” My right foot stepped onto him but I stepped off with my left. He squealed. “Shut up!” My right boot came down on the back of his head with the heel resting on his neck. “They always send me reject slaves! Maybe so I hurt them more.” Pressing down to emphasize my words. He was squirming and ow-ing softly and I put my hand on my leg as I looked down at him. I laughed. The slave recognizes my sadistic-laugh, even when he’s not my slave. I made sure he heard that I was caressing myself and then lit another cigarette of questionable substance.

As I smoked I moved off of him and clomped around him, moving to stand in front of him so I could see his face. His eyes were screwed up and he looked disoriented. The fact that I can find strong cannibis disorienting added to my feeling of power, since I had given him a ton of it and made mine mild. It had the effect of psychic bondage. He was panting feintly and looking at my boots in a bewildered manner. I detected a trace of longing as I flicked some ash to the floor. “You, are good for nothing but waste disposal. You can clean up my ash, with your tongue.” He made a strange sound, which mingled in with his efforts to get up on all fours. “Get the fuck on the floor where you belong, idiot!” as my boot pressed him into the floor via the middle of his shoulderblades. With one leg standing on him I began toking and feeling myself again.

More ash fell down and landed by his face. He licked it off of the wooden floor almost immediately. “Good, piece of shit. And the other bit…” He slithered forwards and lapped at the floor. I laughed again, and more this time. “Look at me! How can you clean up my mess when you can’t see it?” Shuffling began. I toked and became more relaxed, flicking some more ash onto the floor. It landed in front of my boots so he began to shuffle forwards, his eyes dazed but on the target. As he came very close I stepped forwards onto the ash, and shifted my pose. “Oops.” I raised my boot slightly to allow his tongue access to it and the floor below it. The squishing and squirming under my boot began to decreace. “Keep going!” The worming started up properly again, but I was angry. “See, you can do it!” I pushed most of my weight down on his working tongue as he panicked and made the most ridiculous sound that only someone with their tongue under a boot can make. “So why stop when you’re perfectly capable of going on?” I had been sharpening my words into points. “Are you going out of your way to dissapoint me?”. He begged for mercy without words. I pressed the rounded toe of the boot into his nose and cheeks after jolting it up from the floor. “What do you say?” I demanded.

“I, I… Sorry, Goddess?” his voice was weak and soft, his tongue obviously sore, and he looked up slowly at me.

“I sorry? Pillock! What kind of language is that?” I dropped the remains of the joint onto the floor and stepped on it quickly, giving it a few short twists, then stepped off of it. The butt was squashed into the floor, a tiny tube of white paper and a black spot, which came off in one piece as my slave licked it up. Again I chuckled. “And I’ve barely even began to hurt you yet.. Right, get back in the box.”

He wasn’t expecting to go in a second time. He probably thought I was going to drag him into the other room and whip or cane him. He wishes! He looked at me, feeling longing but trying not to show it, lest he make me angry. “Move it!” with enough venom to increace his speed.

Once the box was upright with him in it I suprised him a final time, by pulling down my skirt quite slowly and deliberately, and asif I were just going about my business. The look on his face was priceless. He feared the wourst. I sat over the box, my naked bottom hemming him in and the walls locking him in place. I relaxed. I knew it would take a while and made no sound apart from rubbing my belly; I just listened to his breathing and waited for things to take their course. Suddenly there was a rapid dribble and ‘that feint smell’, and the nice feeling you get when you pee. “You can sleep with my piss. Maybe that’ll teach you to pay more attention to me in future.” and with that I got up and reached for the box lid.

Of course, I only kept him in there for about 10 minutes, if that, but I taped up the lid again anyway for effect. As I removed the lid and rescued him from a severe case of nappy-rash, I smiled and moved in a way that let him know there was no tension, and told him to freshen up. Afterwards I allowed him to worship my body (clothes permitting) and finally kiss and caress my boots. He was my putty pet, and we both enjoyed each other’s company that way for the rest of the evening.