Normally she would snap awake each morning as if a switch had been thrown. Her head seemed filled with fog and she was only dimly aware of her surroundings. And the sheets were rough, almost as if they were made out of heavy denim or canvas. She wasn’t wearing one of her teddys or even a T-shirt and panties. The cool draft across her body told her that there was also no sheet covering her. She tried again to move her arms, but then she felt the rope in her left hand... Oyly would let them do all this because Oyly was a pain slut who got off on humiliation and bondage and pain. This had to be some sort of very strange nightmare. It was as if she were looking out through a black fog which clouded her vision.
Perhaps they weren’t sheets at all and she was laying on some sort of thin pad. She could feel the rough canvas move against her back. Except no one ever really tied Oyly up, or paraded her naked through the town streets, or inflicted pain on her in any way. “Maybe I should removed the blindfold,” the voice said. I don’t want this.” The man laughed and let his hand continue to slide down Olivia’s body.
She was definitely not in her own bed nor in her own bedroom. ” “I’m afraid I can’t answer that question right now, Olive Oyly” the man answered. ” Olivia thrashed against her bonds trying to pull herself free. “But Oyly’s body says yes.” He laughed again and the audience joined in his laughter. It was lifting up and dragging her to a standing position.
The only difference was that now all of this was real.“You need to hold very still for this,” he said in that irritating, whiny voice of his, “or else I might cut you.” Olivia just turned her head upward and closed her eyes. She heard him laughing softly and she could feel the razor scraping along her skin, but the pull of the razor itself as it cut her bush was very light. “You don’t want cuts down there with everything else that is yet to be done tonight.” “Besides,” Dave said, “if I cut you, I don’t get to fuck you.” That caused Olivia to buck furiously, but the slimy jerk from sales had a firm grip on her labia.She found herself thinking, “He must have done this before.” Then she said aloud, “This is crazy. He pulled it downward tightly so he could scrape the lather– and hair– from the edges of her slit.This story is copyright (c) 2017 by The Technician. Her bedroom had large windows which let the sun in early each morning and the glow of the city lights at night. No one called her “Olive Oyly.” No one knew about that name for herself. Olive Oyly was the girl that inhabited her masturbation fantasies.Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Regardless of what time of day it actually was, her bedroom would not be dark. Oyly was what she was when she slicked herself up with oil and lay on the plastic sheets on her bed with several of her favorite toys.“She doesn’t seem to know what happened,” the voice said. “So now we get to play with you for a while...” he laughed a very deep laugh and added, “... There was a noise and the bed slid away from her leaving the frame hanging in the air. ” followed as the frame set down noisily on the stage.