Delivered in the dark

Ali spent an unknown amount of time in the box. She couldn't move more than a little wiggling and even then most of what she could wiggle was her toes. Somehow, miraculously, she slept on and off throughout the whole journey.

Sometimes she'd awake to the sensation of movement, like she was on a cart or in a truck. Sometimes she awoke to nothing but eerie silence in the endless darkness beneath her blindfold. Her body ached, **** to be released from its tight bondage but she could only lie still as her mind ran wild.

She struggled to believe any of this was really happening. How could any of it happen? The box, the bondage. It didn't make any sense and yet it was real. While awake, she wondered endlessly about countless things. Who was moving the box? How had anyone made it inside her apartment to even pick it up, or maybe it just put itself outside? What would happen to her apartment? Was she really going to be her boss's fucktoy for three years?

Fucktoy.

She shuddered at the sound of the word in her mind. There had been a few images on the web site. Always bound, always being used like an object. Was she really going to become one of them? A piece of meat, a collection of holes to be used however her owner wished. Even by a friend, the thing had said.

She burned with lust in her bonds as she imagined the fate that awaited her. Likely inescapable. But even if this all turned out to be some kind of joke, or if somehow she were rescued or otherwise set free... she already felt that the experience had left a mark on her psyche. Did she want this to happen? To become some kind of helpless, fetishized, plaything for men?

On some level—or perhaps just in some rebellious and nonconforming part of her—even if she didn't like to admit it, she knew: she did want it. Wanted to be the object of so much lust and attention, a base creature of physical pleasure. Used, maybe even abused, as long as she was also cared for. The web site assured that her owner would take care of her. Somehow, that knowledge made the whole thing seem less scary. More... sexy.

Between her waking thoughts, while she slept fitfully in her bonds, she dreamed. Hectic and lurid sequences of intense sexual activity with her in the center. She was gagged in all of them, unable even to plead for mercy or ask for rest. Always, she'd wake right as her dream self succumbed to pleasures and her resistance broke down into blissful acceptance of her place. Always she awoke frustratingly horny and slightly scared.

It helped to focus on the fact that everything was out of her hands, and to see the whole thing as an adventure. The alternative was too much for Ali to think about.

Eventually, after she lost count of the number of times her box was moved, or even how many times she'd slept, she heard the sounds of the box being pried open. Her heart rate and breathing quickened to the edge of panic, but she was still totally immobilized. It was all she could do to focus on her breathing and wait to see what would actually happen.