Page 38 of Feel Free to Scream

He's pushed the fabric all the way to my hips when I suddenly remember, despite the darkness, the music, that we're not alone. I sweep our surroundings in one glance and find that we have a larger audience; rather than just the six other masked people around us, there’s a crowd of at least two dozen people around the booth, all of their eyes focused on me.

That doesn't stop him.

“I should have gotten those panties off you before binding your legs. They're in the way. But no matter."

Carelessly, he slides the thin fabric aside, exposing me completely.

No one really seems to notice. They're chatting, drinking,or fucking each other. I’m not the main attraction, just one of the spectacles available amongst a sea of debauchery. Somehow, the fact that they barely watch him uncovering me like this nails home just how strange this place is. I would never have believed it possible that a world like this existed.

“Hey, pass me the box, will you?” Keller asks, and the guy closest to him, wearing a red mask, kicks a rectangular box concealed underneath the leather sofa towards him.

The size of a carry-on suitcase, a little larger than a toolbox, the black plastic case opens to shelves displaying a number of things, most of which I can’t identify on sight. Some, however, are easy enough to recognize, even for me. I’m a virgin, not a complete prude. They’re sex toys. Dozens of them. Some are obvious—dick-shaped dildos and vibrators, butt plugs, canes, floggers. Others, I can’t for the life of me guess the purpose of.

“Don’t worry. They’re all brand new, so completely clean.”

I don’t tell him that I wasn’t, for one second, concerned about the cleanliness of the many tools. If I look panicked, it’s for many reasons, and that absolutely wasn’t one of them. While the fact that I’m not going to be touching dirty things is good to hear, it wasn’t one of my concerns, so it does nothing to settle the erratic beats of my heart.

“This is your box, Claire. It’ll be labelled and saved exclusively for your use.”

He’s talking like he expects me to use them again. Yeah, right. They might as well chuck that entire box into the trash in three hours and thirty-something minutes.

“Have you ever used one of these?”

I’m too busy staring at the three shelves, trying to guess what some of the things inside are going to do to me.

There seems to be an order of sorts. The lower shelf is full of things that seem obvious, the vibrators, the butt plugs, a line of plum-sized balls, ribbons, masks, that sort of things. The second and third shelves are more obscure. Yes, I recognize the flogger, cane, and paddles, but there are other things that seem a lot stranger. Clothes pegs. A microphone? It looks like one in any case. An electric tool, attached to a battery.

“No, that won’t do at all. If you start by ignoring my questions, you and I are going to have a problem. Here’s how it’s going to go, Claire. You answer, you get to feel very good. If you won’t…”

Keller takes the strange, long, and thin black tool—like a wizard’s wand—detaching it from its charger, and points it straight at my exposed clit.

I don’t even realize I’m screaming, my entire body leaping forward, as a jolt burns my clit, and travels through my entire body. But I’m attached to the arms and feet of the armchair, so I don’t go far. I can’t escape the point of the thing, which sends several zaps at my sensitive nub.

The insane fucker is actuallyelectrocutingme.

I don’t think I’ve ever screamed so loud. It’s, not to be glib, shocking. And yes, there’s a certain degree of pain, too, but as my core constricts, ignites, and pulses, I can’t deny there’s something else, too.

I don’t know how long he keeps the tool in place. Seconds, minutes. It might be an eternity. But at long last, he places it back on its base, turning that neon mask to me.

“Now, Claire. I asked you a question.”

He did? It seems like a million years ago.

“I…” My mouth is dry, my tongue strange. “What was it again? Please,” I add quickly.

“So very polite. You’re easy to train, aren’t you? Good little submissive bitch.”

I’m offended in at least three different ways, but I know better than to say anything.

“I asked whether you’ve used any of these before,” he repeats.

The question rings a bell, but it seemed to have been asked so long ago. Another day. Anything before the sudden jab of electricity was in another life.

I shake my head and also say, “No.”

Just in case the gesture isn’t enough. I don’t want to earn another punishment just because I didn’t say it out loud.

As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I blush because, he’s right. He’s training me—and very efficiently. I’m behaving like a good little bitch. Fuck, if that doesn’t enrage me. I want to rebel against the very idea. But not if it means he’s going to make me pay for it.

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