A More Permanent Accessory

“It’s been 10 hours and 54 minutes since your last run of required distance. Run now to avoid punishment!”

The voice ripped Zoe from her sleep like she’d been dumped in ice.

NO!

The voice was louder now, clearer, and came from somewhere close to her ears. The red-head shrieked.

“No no no no no!” She wailed, panicked, flinging herself from the bed as she tried to back away from the sound. Her eyes darted to her wrist only to find the strap wasn’t there and she felt at herself in confusion as she backed into her closet door, staring in white-eyed terror around her room.

Her heart pounded painfully, panting, she swallowed and felt it.

A weight around her neck.

Frantic, the girl spun around to stare at her reflection in her closet door mirror – her eyes red with the coming tears as she saw it.

Around her neck was a metal collar – seamless and without a clasp or fastening, it was heavy and jet black. At the front, centered directly in front of her throat was the small, penny sized disk of the speaker – only now it was surrounded by a larger design; an upside down horseshoe.

No… please no… It’s meant to be over… I cut it off… I escaped!!

Zoe’s fingers scrabbled at her neck as she tried desperately to pull the wretched thing off.

“Please no! Please please please! I don’t want to run!”

The voice responded almost instantly, cold, emotionless, the synthetic voice snapped,

“Run now to avoid punishment!”

"I don't want to!"

With tears in her eyes, Zoe thrashed at the collar at her neck again in petulant, frantic tugs before shrieking in defeat and stumbling around her room looking for clothes. The crop had scared her before, and scared her now, but she braced herself to take it – even if it meant being whipped, she needed to change!

Holding back sobs, Zoe stripped in a blur and pulled on the first clothes she could find that would work. Sports bra, leggings, and shoes - the basics, she just needed the basics…

The lick of the crop caught her just as she stood up, making the girl cry out in seething, humiliated hurt.

Horrified, ashamed… broken… Zoe flung open her bedroom door and hurried down the stairs in obedience of the voice. The existential dread flooding her mind, making it impossible to think. ****...

... No escape…

Gritting her teeth and wiping the tears from her eyes, Zoe opened the front door and stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine. A storm was gathering on the distant horizon, but above her fluffy white clouds drifted lazily by. The beauty of the day was a stark contrast to the nightmare Zoe was living.

She tried to breathe steadily, but she was weak from sobbing – she’d already done this distance once today and the voice bluntly demanded she run it again. Zoe’s legs ached before she'd even left the yard - but she threw herself forwards - stopping was not an option.

Unlike her last runs she was exposed now – visible. It was fully daylight and her neighbours could see her, there was traffic on the streets and people going about their daily lives - Normal routines of a quiet suburban town playing out all around her while she was **** to run.

Zoe’s heart ached with jealousy and longing – she wanted to be like them – blissfully unaware, safe, free.

She passed a neighbour, Mr Peterson, mowing his lawn a few homes down, he gave her a curious look as she passed. The red-head could only cringe imagining the sight of her now – what he could see, what he would think. Her ponytail bobbing madly, eyes red with tears, cheeks flushed with shame, running in a mismatched sports bra and leggings with a black collar around her neck.

She stared at him in mute pleading, her lips parting to speak – to plead for help, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. How could she even start to explain this insanity? The shame of what was happening to her was too much and with a defeated moan she cut her pleading gaze away.

She went to cross the street when the voice barked from her throat,

“Left”

Zoe stumbled, confused and alarmed. Her eyes darted around in mortified fear to make sure no one else was in earshot. The instruction was new… anything new was dangerous.

She stumbled again a moment later when she felt a soft tug on her left nipple, like someone had taken it between thumb and fore-finger and pulled. The red-head gasped weakly, her mewl of surprise and flush of unwanted pleasure getting caught in her throat.

“Left”

The voice spoke again, and she felt her nipple pulled again, tugging her that way. She wanted to go straight – straight went to campus, left… left went into town…

No… no… please no… I’m not some animal you can steer…!

She tried to keep going forwards on her normal route, when the crop lashed her ass and the girl shuddered, letting out a pained squeal. This time she looked up and caught sight of a woman in a passing car, her face serene, disinterested, Zoe's existence passing her entirely without notice.

I’m a hostage and no one knows…

The crop lashed her again and Zoe let out another moan of despair before she dropped her shoulder and followed the instruction.

She ran down the street until she reached another intersection, again the voice perked up,

“Right”

Phantom fingers playfully tugged on her right nipple this time and Zoe whimpered despondently as she was guided and steered degradingly by her nipples through the streets, the occasional lick of the crop and cooing voice from her collar a constant reminder of its domination of her.

Zoe had no idea where the collar was taking her, or why, she just prayed it would let her stop or rest. Her lungs hurt from the strain, her legs fired with the familiar dull ache of her constant enforced motion - worse, each delicate little tug on her nipples felt good - and it was making her blush even brighter, her body naturally responding to the constant little teasing touches with heat. Her nipples straining into her sports bra with the onset of her mild, unwanted, arousal.

I don’t want to do this anymore… Please, I don't want to do this anymore...

More than once she would pass a stranger – an old lady, a man walking his dog, a business woman on the phone – and the voice would speak up. Enough for them to hear it, enough for her to feel the burning shame of it.

“Good girl!”

She ran by a café just as the voice exclaimed, a woman sitting at a table outside scoffed and stared at Zoe in shock. Her breasts contained by only her sports bra, nipples clearly erect, Zoe knew how she looked, how the voice must sound – she could only lower her head, close her eyes, and power through the nightmare of shame.

There was no zone for her to go to now – there was just this.

Zoe didn’t even know she was close to home again until a tug on her right nipple guided her around the last corner and she realised she had re-entered their street. Her body bathed in sweat and knees weak. The late afternoon sun just starting to cast longer shadows now.

Her feet hurt, her chest ached – she just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear – to make all the hurt go away. The crop lashed her ass again and Zoe squeaked, crossing the street and hurrying frantically towards the mailbox - to the safety of her finish line.

As she got closer, she made out a shape through the tears and she realised what she was looking at.

Katie was just arriving home, climbing out of her car and retrieving her purse, the blonde was humming happily to herself.

Zoe wanted to stop, but she couldn’t – she wanted to turn away, turn back, go anywhere else, but she couldn’t – the crop lashed her again and she could only mewl, cheeks burning, too exhausted to speak and she ran towards her best friend, her eyes blinking back more sobbing tears and she realised what was about to happen.

“Zo!” Katie called out, waving, “Hey! I didn’t know you were out, that was good timing huh… I… Zo?”

Zoe bit her lip as she ran towards and then by the blonde, she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact – her head dropping in anticipation of the shame she was about to experience.

“Zoe? Hello? Earth to Zo?” Katie tried again with a giggle.

Zoe leaped up the steps onto the porch, panting, ****, “Please... p-p-please... Don’t look at me!” she wailed frantically, but it was too late.

“Good girl!”