Seven

“Seven,” Me says, getting to her feet. “The number of days in a week. Do you know how many weeks I’ve had to live through? You can’t even imagine.” She stands in front of you, looking your naked body up and down. “Still, let me see if I can get you caught up, cram a full week into a few minutes.”

She drops to her knees and opens her mouth, taking your hard cock in it and administering a blow job she’s had centuries to perfect. Your muscles go tense, as her slick tongue moves over you, as the sensations build and build. You can’t help but moan.

She stops for a second, just as you’re about to explode, and turns her head up to look at you. “As you can see, the week starts with Moan-day. And you know what’s next?” She turns back to face your excited erect cock. “Mmmm, I’m feeling hungry...” She looks up at you with a smile on her face, her young worldly eyes twinkling, and slowly, tantaslisingly, moves her lips towards your waiting member, and then she opens her mouth and bites it hard.

You yell louder than you’ve ever yelled before, and then louder still as her teeth move towards your balls.

“Chews-day,” she says, her mouth releasing your hurting testicles.

While you stand there, your genitals still complaining as only genitals can, she puts her hand into her coat pocket and pulls out something shiny, running it over your leg. It stings and when you look down you see a line of red blood there.

“Just keeping a track of how many weeks you’ve been through,” she says, putting the knife away, then licking at your blood with her tongue. “Besides, we’ve reached Wounds-day.”

She gets up and returns to her chair, pulling out something red from behind it. At first you think it’s a plant pot, but then you realise it’s a hat.

“Next, it’s Fez-day,” she says, holding it upside down, as if there’s something inside it. “Fezzes are cool, especially this one.” She pushes it against your cock and balls, holding it there, and you realise it’s full of ice. You try and move away, but she holds it there against you, the cold getting more intense, making you wince. She looks approvingly at the faces you pull.

Finally, when your balls can’t take any more agony, she returns the fez back behind the chair, and walks up to you, looking in her coat pocket.

“This should help,” she says, pulling out a tube of cream and rubbing it slowly over your frozen balls and cock. After a second, there’s relief as you start to warm up, and then you feel your genitals burning.

“Fry-day,” says Me, over your screaming, as you writhe there, your manacles keeping you upright, and then the manacles suddenly plunge down from the ceiling and you drop to the floor.

Suddenly, your balls and cock still burning. you find Me sitting on your chest, her wide eyes staring down at you, her hand round your throat.

“Sat-on-day,” she says, as her grip tightens, and then her other hand forms into a fist and starts punching you in the face, “followed by Stun-day, your day of rest.”

Her fist just keeps on coming, and things start to go dark, and, the next thing you know, you’re back upright, suspended by the manacles which have raised back to their original position. Your cock and balls still hurt, but the burning has started to subside.

“Seven’s going to be the most common number from two dice,” Me tells you, her hand stroking your aching cock, “so the next week should be coming around before you know it, and then another, and then another, and they'll all start to blend together into one endless painful life.” At that second, her young eyes seem so sad, but then a half-smile appears on her lips. "At least until your game ends."