Time Waits (Part 4)

Christine goes to the police.

Story Codes: Rape, Humiliation, Watersports, Scat, Fantasy


Part Three – Broken


Chapter Eight

The second Jordan saw the two police officers waiting outside his door, he instinctively froze time. He stared at them in shock for long minutes, unable to believe what he was seeing.

It couldn’t be true! It couldn’t!

He forced himself to calm down. Maybe it was something else. Maybe… maybe it was… it could be…

He let time slip away, and watched his parents open the door.

“Jordan Seeler?” one of the officers asked. His voice was cold. Jordan nodded silently.

“We’d like you to accompany us back to the station so you can answer some-”

The world stopped.

Jordan strode out the door past the officers, barely even noticing them. There was only one thing they could be here to ask about. He had to find her. He had to see for himself.

He biked to her house, but found it empty. Furious, he let out an incoherent scream. Where was she?!

As he stood still, it came to him. Her behavior earlier that night. Asking to be unbound. Asking him not to use a condom. He might still have time.


“Miss Summers?” asked Officer Barnes.

Christine looked up at the familiar face with relief. “May I go home now?” Her mother rubbed her back reassuringly. They’d been waiting here in the station for hours since she’d given the police her statement and had the rape kit testing done, sitting on a cold unpleasant bench in the hall. The sun would be up soon.

“Not yet, ma’am,” he said. “Follow me, please.”

He led her into one of the interrogation rooms, and motioned for her to take a seat. She did so, feeling increasingly nervous. It was just him and her in this gray, unfriendly room. He could do anything he wanted. Just throw her across this table and…

She shook her head, trying to banish the irrational fears playing through her mind. Nothing was going to happen. This man wasn’t her enemy. He wasn’t even a stranger. She’d been friends with his partner’s daughter Millie for the last six years, and had seen him around plenty of times at the girl’s house.  He’d never come off as anything but kind and hardworking. And besides, there was the big mirror on one wall, the one that people were always on the other side of in crime shows. She wasn’t really alone with him.

Officer Barnes cleared his throat. “I’d like to go over your statement one more time, Miss Summers.” Christine felt her fear creeping back up as she looked at his impassive, professional expression, which bore little resemblance to the smiling father she was used to seeing. He almost seemed like a different person as he sat on the other side of the table.

“Of course.”

“How did Mr Seeler get into your bedroom?”

“I think he came in through the window.” Christine was actually fairly certain he’d just opened the door and walked in, but she couldn’t say that. In order for this to work, she couldn’t talk about the impossible things that had happened. It had to appear to be a ‘normal’ rape, if such a thing were possible.

“You think?” There was an edge of frost to Officer Barnes’s tone, and Christine resisted a shudder.

“I didn’t see him until he was already in the room,” she said truthfully. “So I wasn’t able to see how he entered.”

“And you didn’t see what he did when exiting?”

“I had a blindfold on. That he’d put on me.”

“Mmm hmm.” Officer Barnes looked down at his notes. “How did he get this blindfold on you?”

Christine squirmed uncomfortably. The officer who’d taken her original statement had been a woman who’d been, if not outright friendly, at least sympathetic to what she’d been through. She’d asked a couple questions, but not like this. Officer Barnes wasn’t looking for more information, she realized, he was looking for holes in her story. Did he think she was making parts of it up?

“I was taking a nap,” she said. “When I woke up, he was on top of me, pushing my face into the pillow so I couldn’t see him. He held a knife to my throat and threatened to kill me if I screamed or resisted. I recognized his voice. That was when he blindfolded me.” The lies came easily; she’d been practicing them in her head all week, working out a believable story that kept the important details while leaving out the unbelievable ones.

“Do you often take naps on school nights like that?” the officer asked.

“No, I was just tired that night. I, I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Hmm.” Officer Barnes made another note. “That was lucky of him then, wasn’t it?”

“I’m sorry?”

“If Mr Seeler had tried to enter your room while you were awake, you would’ve seen him and called for help, right? So it was extremely lucky that you just so happened to be asleep when he attempted to assault you.”

“Y-yes,” Christine agreed lamely. “Maybe he, um, saw me turn off the light in my room, and figured out I’d gone to sleep?”

“You claim he threatened you with a knife. Did he actually cut you with it?” Officer Barnes asked.

Christine hadn’t missed his use of the word ‘claim’. “No. He just blindfolded me, gagged me, and then used something metallic to bind me to the bed. I wasn’t able to see what it was.”

“So you let him tie you up. Were you unaware of what he was going to do to you afterwards?”

The officer’s face was still composed and professional, but there was a hard look in his eyes that chilled Christine. “I… I knew what was going to happen,” she said, trying to keep calm. “But he had a knife.”

“And he kept this knife on your throat the entire time, even while tying you up?”

“No,” she admitted.

“So there were moments when he was not threatening you with a knife, but you still chose not to put up a struggle.”

“I… I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing. I didn’t want to risk my life.”

“So you agreed to let him tie you up so that he could forcibly penetrate you, and made no attempt to resist him. That is an important detail, Miss Summers, and will need to be added to your official statement.”

He was just twisting her words, trying to humiliate her. Was it a tactic to make her slip up?

“And then what?” the officer asked.

“Then he… he raped me.”

“I need you to be more specific, Miss Summers. Did he penetrate you immediately, or was there foreplay first?”

“I… why do you need to know that?”

Officer Barnes gave her a flat look. “Miss Summers, you’re accusing Mr Seeler of a very serious crime. If these accusations are true, it will mean the end of his life for all intents and purposes. He will be expelled, sent to prison, and registered as a sex offender. So we owe it to him, and to you, to have as many details as possible. Answer the question: did he penetrate you immediately?”

“No, he… ” Christine’s face burned as she recalled the specifics of what had happened a few hours ago. “He touched my breasts first. And, he kissed me. On the neck.”

“Was he successful?”

“I don’t-”

“Were you wet when he penetrated you?” Officer Barnes kept up his perfect poker face as he watched her reaction. “The judge will need to know how exactly how violent the sexual assault was before deciding on Mr Seeler’s sentence. This is no trivial matter; we’re talking about several years of a young man’s life. Were you wet when he penetrated you, Miss Summers?”

Christine knew it wasn’t a real question. But what was she supposed to do? Refuse to answer? Leave? She had to imagine that in either case, they wouldn’t bother pressing charges against Jordan afterwards.

“No,” she lied, not wanting to give him more ammunition. To her shame, she had gotten wet at the time. After the first few rapes, her body had started doing it out of pure self defense. There was never anything pleasurable about it, and even when he went at her for hours she never approached anything that could be considered an orgasm, but she had begun to develop a disgustingly Pavlovian response to Jordan’s attentions.

“How do you know for certain?” Officer Barnes asked. “You were blindfolded and unable to make physical contact with your genitals, after all. Can you be certain that you weren’t wet?”



“It… it hurt. A lot.”

“Were you a virgin, Miss Summers?” Officer Barnes asked.

“I… yes.”

“So you don’t actually have personal experience with how painful sexual intercourse could be.”

“No,” she said, wishing that were actually true.

“Then you can’t be certain you weren’t wet, can you?”


“So you may have been wet when Jordan Seeler penetrated you, after tying you to your bed, playing with your breasts, and kissing your neck? I can add that to your official statement?”

“…yes…” It was getting harder to hold back the tears. His behavior had gone well past trying to throw her off; he was just outright mocking her now. Why?

Officer Barnes checked his notes again. “The technician who administered the forensic exam for your rape kit noted the lack of blood in your vagina, which would normally be present if your hymen had been broken. Any thoughts on why that didn’t occur?”

The exam alone had been almost more humiliating than being raped. She’d had to undress for the nurse, let her take pictures of every part of her body and swab her for DNA samples. Her stomach twisted into knots at the idea of going through all that for nothing, if the police decided that they didn’t believe her story.

And that wouldn’t be the worst of it. If Jordan found out that she’d accused him of rape… she couldn’t resist the shudder this time.

“I must have broken my hymen at some other point,” she said.

“From masturbation?” he asked.

“Wh-what?” she said, completely startled by his suggestion.

“The pictures showed some abrasions that indicated frequent vaginal penetration over a recent period of time. Normally we don’t see such significant abrasions outside of prostitutes. And you’re not a prostitute, correct Miss Summers?”

“No,” she said quietly.

“So I can only conclude that it’s actually of a sign of heavy and frequent masturbation, which would also explain the broken hymen and lack of blood. Is that the case, Miss Summers, or is there some other reason you’d care to provide?”

“No, that’s… that’s the reason,” she said slowly, certain her cheeks must be beet red by now. Christine couldn’t understand why he was doing this to her, but there was no other response she could give. She just had to get through this. She’d had to bend the truth in some spots, but Jordan had assaulted her. As long as she stuck to her story, her statement and his DNA should be enough.

“I’ll add that to your official statement then: no signs of blood because of intense masturbation. And how often do you masturbate at night?”

“Wh… why is that relevant?!” she protested, unable to stop herself.

“Answer the question, Miss Summers.”

“I, I don’t know…”

“I’ve looked at the abrasions myself,” he said. Christine felt nauseated as she realized what he was saying: he’d looked at the pictures of her naked, of the inside of her vagina. It was a minor violation compared to the last week, but it still made her feel filthy inside. “I’d estimate you must be doing it at least two or three times a night, if you were still a virgin. Is that accurate?”

“Y-yes…” she answered, the only thing she could think to say.

“Some of the abrasions were rather deep inside. You used a dildo then, and not just your fingers?”

“Yes…” She’d never done anything of the sort. She’d masturbated occasionally, but never with anything but her bare hands.

Officer Barnes made another note. “I’ll update the statement: no signs of blood because of intense masturbation with a dildo. If I sent someone over to retrieve this dildo as evidence, where would they find it?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“You don’t know where the dildo you use to pleasure yourself multiple times a night is located right now?” he asked.

“No…” she whispered, blinking away the tears of humiliation that could no longer be held back.

“I’ll just leave a note about that in your case file then,” the officer said. “Can you demonstrate your usual technique, so we can make sure it lines up with what we’ve seen in the pictures?” He gestured to the side of the table. “You can stand over there for it.”

Christine made a genuine effort to rise from her seat, but her body wouldn’t obey her. Shaking, she collapsed back down. She just couldn’t do this anymore. More tears came, and she couldn’t stop any of them this time. “Why are you doing this to me?!” she asked as she blubbered.

A hint of a smile came to Officer Barnes’ face, though there was no mirth to it. “Miss Summers, normally it can take weeks to get back the results of a DNA swab test. In this case, however, identification took considerably less time, given that the sample provided was actually a mix of milk and yogurt.”

Christine stared at him, tears running down her face. “What?!”

“I don’t know why you believed something like that would go unnoticed, or the how the original technician who stored the sample failed to realize what was going on, but your little game is over. Consider your questioning tonight to be a small taste of karmic justice for such a vile prank. If your attempt to frame Mr Seeler hadn’t been so laughably inept, it might have actually worked.”

Christine shrank back her in seat. There was no longer even the illusion of politeness to Officer Barnes.. He was eyeing her with a look of contempt, and she had to fight the urge to bolt out of the room. “This… there must be some kind of mistake! Jordan Seeler raped me!”

“Mr. Seeler was home in his basement all night, until the time he was placed under arrest and brought to the station. His family have attested that he went down there shortly after arriving home, and had not left all night. They were quite certain on the topic; apparently the basement door has a very creaky hinge that can be heard throughout the house. We sent a man there who verified it.”

Christine tried to think furiously. This couldn’t be happening. “My room then! He was in there! You’ll find hair and skin samples!”

“We already sent a team to check it out. Not only did they find zero traces of any strange skin or hair follicles, they also found no identifying marks on the house’s exterior, the kind that would be left behind by someone scaling the wall to reach the second floor window.”

The officer leaned in closer, staring her down. “Mr Seeler is not the one who has committed a crime tonight. False rape accusations are a felony, Miss Summers, and you are not a minor. If Mr. Seeler presses charges, it would mean significant jail time and a permanent criminal record. Luckily for you, and against the wishes of his legal counsel, Mr. Seeler has emphatically rejected to press charges at this time. Which means that we are done here.”

Officer Barnes stood up from his seat, glowering at her. “We do not appreciate being made fools of, especially by a little slut who’s either getting pounded every night or trying her best to grind her dildo down to a nub. So you’re going to come with me while I share our findings and your statements with your parents, including what we were just discussing about your nightly habits, and then you can get the hell out of my station. And I suggest, Miss Summers, that you be on your very best behavior from now on.”

Christine was numb during the car ride home. She was dimly aware of her parents talking to her, sometimes with concern, sometimes with anger, but it all flew by. She had lost. She’d given it her best try, thought she was going to be free of this nightmare, and she’d been wrong. And now it was only going to get worse.


Exhausted, Jordan collapsed onto his bed. It was impossible to gauge how much time had passed for him versus the real world, but he would have wagered he’d been in there at least six or eight hours. In that time, he’d managed to track down the sperm samples and replace them, with the help of a keycard borrowed from a nearby technician’s pocket, vacuumed Christine’s room to remove any other traces he might have left behind, and wiped everything down for fingerprints, all before coming back to his house and letting the police take him in.

Between all that and the hours spent at the station, he’d been up for close to thirty hours by now. His eyelids felt like they had weights attached. But sleep didn’t come immediately, his brain still overactive. Christine. That bitch. That cunt. She’d lied to him, manipulated him, pretended that she loved him and then tried to ruin his life.

Fine. That was just fine. If that was how she wanted to play it, Jordan would respond in kind. No more nice guy. He would make that traitorous slut regret being born before he was done. The time would come when she’d be on her knees, begging his forgiveness, swearing to do anything if he’d offer mercy, and he’d just turn the screws on harder.


Chapter Nine

Christine barely slept that night, on edge, waiting for Jordan’s retribution. She didn’t know when or how, but she knew it would happen, and that she would have no way of stopping it.

To her wary surprise, Wednesday passed without incident, as did Thursday. She even passed Jordan in the hall once, and though she’d shrunk away from him, expecting something terrible to happen, he’d just kept walking, not even glancing at her. The rumor mill had started its work, though, and before the end of the second day, people around her had began to whisper and giggle at her presence. Her friends didn’t speak of it, but their awkward silences told her they’d heard all about it too. Millie wouldn’t even look at her.

She tried to ignore it. She had more important things to worry about now than high school gossip. People could laugh at her and talk about her behind their back all they wanted, and it shouldn’t really matter.

Because of her attempted indifference, it took Christine a little while on Friday to realize that Jordan’s assault had already begun.

As she walked into school that day, the buzz around her was louder than usual. Students openly gawked at her as she went past, some shocked, some amused. It wasn’t until she ran into Nadine that she found out it was more than just notoriety. “Oh my god, Christine,” the brunette hissed. “What did you… why would you do that to yourself?”

“…What?” Christine couldn’t make sense of her friend’s panicked anxious expression. “Is this about Jordan? I… look, I can tell you about it later, okay?”

Nadine shook her head, then studied her face. “You… do you not know? How could you not know?”

Christine had a sinking feeling in her stomach as Nadine started to fumble in her backpack. She came out with a compact mirror, and showed it to her. Staring at her own face with mounting horror, Christine brought her fingers to her cheek. They came away stained black.

Written across her face in black marker were the words “I AM A LYING WHORE”.

Christine sprinted towards the nearest bathroom. She could hear more laughter and conversation as she moved, her appearance the hot news of the morning. She washed her face off in a sink while the other girls in there stared at her.

This was only the beginning. A warm-up to let her know he was coming.

The real attack came during Calculus. Even if she hadn’t already been on high alert, Christine would have felt it when reality shifted, the experience accompanied by a sudden ache in her groin.

She noticed her arms first. They were written on in ink, the same ink as the pen she’d been using for notes. “I AM A NEEDY SLUT”, “PLEASE GIVE ME DICK”, “YOU’LL LOVE MY PUSSY”… she licked her thumb and tried to wipe them off, but the smudged words remained.

“Miss Summers?!” came the teacher’s shocked voice in front of her. Christine realized that the whole class had gone silent, that everyone was staring at her. There was a new noise in the room too, something she didn’t have time to identify.

“I… I think I need to go to the nurse,” she said, trying to remain calm. “I’m… not feeling well.”

The teacher walked to her desk. “I don’t know what is going on, young lady, but my classroom is not the place to go writing such filth all over…” he stopped. “What’s that noise?”

Everyone listened to the low buzzing. Christine became acutely aware of the ache in her groin again. It was somewhat painful, but also felt… good. Really good, like… like…

She felt her face flush as she realized what was happening, and saw the teacher blush as he suddenly figured it out too. “Miss Summers,” he said, his voice warring between anger, embarrassment, and amusement. “You will not be going to the nurse. You will go to the principal’s office. But first, you will go to the bathroom and remove… remove whatever thing you have decided to pleasure yourself with in the middle of class.”

The entire class erupted in laughter as the other students realize they were listening to the steady hum of a vibrator. Hoots and jeers came from several of the boys, and Christine saw girls, many of whom she would have called friends, look at her with nothing but revulsion.

She stood, trying to hold on to her dignity, trying to resist the urge to flee the room sobbing. She walked slowly, carefully out of the classroom. Even as she walked down the hall, she could still hear them laughing.


“This is… all most unusual,” the principal was saying to her. He was an older man, in his sixties or so, who’d always projected a kind of friendly grandfather vibe to Christine. Today he just looked anxious and tired. “Christine, I’ve already heard about an incident between you and Mr. Seeler.”

“I wasn’t lying,” she said wearily, sitting in front of his desk. “Jordan raped me.”

The principal harrumphed and looked away. “Well, I don’t know what the police were thinking, but for what it’s worth, Christine, if you say it happened, I believe you. I have never known you to be anything but an honest, upstanding student, just like your sister before you.”

Her spirits rose for the first time in days. “You do? Oh thank you, sir, thank you! It really did happen!”

The principal held up a hand to stop her. “Be that as it may, and while I’m aware that you must be going through serious trauma over what’s happened, I cannot allow that to have a disruptive effect here, do you understand? My school is neither the time nor the place to work through these issues, especially not in the… colorful manner you seem to have chosen.”

“I… I’m, sorry sir,” said Christine. The ink had been reduced to illegible smduges on her arms by now, after several minutes of washing in the bathroom. There had been more on her face too, a drawing of a dick on her cheek pointing to her mouth, the words “I’VE BEEN PRACTICING EVERY DAY” next to it, and she’d gotten rid of that as best she could manage. The vibrator, a small pink thing that had been taped to her clitoral hood, she’d pulled off and thrown in the garbage, burying it as deeply into the bin as she could in the hope it would go unnoticed.

She was tempted to tell him that she wasn’t responsible for the writing, but she knew it would do no good. The earlier writing could have at least been played off as a nasty prank carried out while she was sleeping, but there was no rational explanation she could give for how somebody wrote on her face and arms without her permission in the middle of class, nor how she’d ended up with a vibrator in her crotch. He believed that she’d been raped, and that would have to be enough.

“I will strongly recommend making an appointment with a therapist,” said the principal, turning away to look out the window. “They will be much better equipped to help you deal with this, to assist your recovery from the mental trauma you’re clearly experiencing.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “And thank you for trying to help.” A therapist couldn’t do much for her, but it wouldn’t hurt either, and she appreciated the attempt.

The principal harrumphed again, looking embarrassed. “I know it’s not much, dear, but there is no easy solution to…” His voice trailed off as he looked away from the window and back at her. His expression turned shocked and confused, then darkened.

Christine had been too distracted to notice reality skipping this time. She looked down to find her shirt rolled up under her elbows, her bra pushed down to expose her breasts. Written across the top of them was “WOULDN’T I MAKE A GOOD TEACHER’S PET?” in more ink. The pen was now in her hand.

“I-I-it isn’t…” she stammered.

“Miss Summers!,” the principal bellowed, furious. “I am not certain what offends me more. That you would degrade yourself like this, that you would try to seduce me, or that you thought it might work. I know you have been through a lot this week, but this… this is revolting.”

Christine bowed her head, in no position to defend herself. The principal breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. When he spoke next, his tone was formal, with no trace of the kindness or sympathy that had been there before. “Out of respect for your academic record, I will not have this incident entered into your permanent file. You are, however, suspended for the next week. I suggest that you use the time to consider your priorities carefully. You are now on very thin ice here.”


Chapter Ten

Jordan thought long and hard in his room as he tried to figure out what to do with Christine. More than just fuck her, that was for certain. He wanted to fuck with her, to drag that smug, heartless bitch through the mud.

Even just thinking about what she’d tried to do to him made tears well up. She’d used him, let him think that she loved him. How she must have laughed and laughed when she found out that her lover was just stupid little Jordan. And to go to the police, accuse him of rape… he’d thought that she just didn’t care about him. He had no idea she’d hated him.

Well now the cunt was going to get a taste of her own medicine. Pulling those pranks on her in school had made Jordan realize just how fun it was to mess with her. After she’d been sent home he’d stilled time to check in on her, and found her huddled in her bedroom crying. It had felt so good to see her like that, to see her arrogance humbled. It was even better than seeing her smile.

He wanted more of that. Make her cry, make her miserable, make her regret what she threw away. He’d make her feel so filthy and worthless that she’d never be able to look down on him like that again. Grinning, he began to write down some of his ideas, his other hand rubbing his crotch.


In some ways, the suspension was a relief. If she’d gone to school, she’d be vulnerable to Jordan’s attacks. Here, she’d be relatively safe. He couldn’t go skipping class to abuse her. At worst, he might show up during his lunch break, but at least public humiliation was no longer on the table.

She didn’t feel safe, though. It might be difficult for Jordan to get to her here, but not impossible, and she didn’t think he was the type to give in easily.

That’s why Christine wasn’t surprised when a box appeared on her bed Monday morning, shortly after her parents had left for work. The principal hadn’t given them the full details of why she’d been suspended, but they had enough information to be very upset with her, and spent most of the weekend getting that across. She had strict orders from them to spend the week studying.

She picked the box up gingerly. It was medium sized, gift wrapped, and had a piece of paper taped to the top with print on it. As she read the note, she felt the weight of the world start pressing down on her.

“Hello, Christine,” the note read. “I once imagined you were my girlfriend. I even dared to hope that you would someday be my wife. I loved you more than anything, and for a brief, wonderful moment, I believed you felt the same way.

“But that time in our lives has ended. You are not my girlfriend, Christine, nor my wife. You are my slave now, and you will do whatever I ask.

“Last week was a simple demonstration of what I’m capable of. In a matter of minutes, I could get you kicked out of any college, destroy any of your relationships, or get you fired from even the lowliest job. I have the power to ruin your life, and the will to use it.

“Whether or not I exercise that power is entirely up to you. I expect complete and total obedience from you from now on. Any rebellion, any act of defiance, any further attempts to manipulate my feelings, will results in the floodgates being opened.

“First, there is the matter of your punishment. You tried to have me arrested, and for that you must be taught a lesson. In a moment of youthful idiocy, I made a promise that I would not take your last virginity until you offered it to me, and unlike you, I am not a liar. That is why on Friday night, you will apologize for what you tried to do, and you will beg me to have your ass.

“You will be responsible for choosing the position I will take you in, and you will do all the work. You will fuck your asshole on my dick until I have cum, and you will thank me for the privilege.

“We will spend this week preparing you for that event, and getting you adjusted to your new position in life. You will be given orders each morning, and you will obey them to the best of your ability. There will be no second chances. If you do not wish to follow an order, I recommend killing yourself; it will be kinder than whatever I will do.

“Enclosed is a set of gifts. After you have finished reading this note, you will strip naked, open the box, and put on what is in there. You will remain in this state all day until your parents come home, and do likewise all the following days. You will not see me, but I will be around at irregular intervals to check that you are in compliance.

“Your task today is to lay in bed and masturbate for at least four hours. You will use your webcam to record your session. In that time, you will visibly orgasm at least ten times. Whether they are real or fake does not matter, only that anyone watching will be able to see what a horny slut you are.

“When you are done, you will send the video to the email address I’ve provided below.”

Christine read the note several times, a tiny part of her hoping each time that she’d only imagined what she’d read before. This was a living nightmare. He was right; she had no room to disobey. The police thought she was a criminal, her own parents didn’t believe her… she was powerless.

And on Friday night… she shivered. He would get exactly what he wanted. She had no other choice. If he wanted, he could… could rape her like that right now. The only path she could see was obedience. She’d taken her chance against him and failed. All she could do now was wait for another one to arise, and until then, not give him a reason to be even crueler than he already intended.

Resigned, she stepped out of her clothes, folding them neatly and putting them on her dresser. Even though she was alone in her room, she felt vulnerable and exposed. At any moment, he could be watching her. She unwrapped the gift box and opened it up.

The first item was a red leather collar. The fastener at the back was like a belt buckle, and there was a gold ring attached to the front. A leash of the same color and material was connected to it by its own interlocking gold ring. She buckled the collar on, the leash’s end dangling between her breasts.

Next was a long pink vibrator. Instead of being modeled after a real penis, it was more like a piece of abstract art, all smooth lumps and curves. A cord protruded from the flat suction cup base. Another note, this one only a post-it, was attached to the dildo. It read “highest setting always”.

Christine hesitated only a moment before sliding the vibrator into her. It was thick and she was dry, but after all the rough use her pussy had gotten, it slid in without trouble. She turned it on, and it buzzed to life, the sensations more pleasant than she cared to admit.

After that was a ball gag. The gag itself was large and red, matching the collar she already wore, and had a black strap that went around the back of her head. She put it on, and almost immediately felt herself start to drool, her mouth unable to close.

There was still more in the box. The penultimate item was a pair of nipple clamps attached by a chain. The clamps were an intricate metal design that didn’t appear to have any way to adjust them. Christine carefully applied one to her left nipple, moaning around the gag as it painfully crushed her nipple by the time it was fully on, then repeated the process with her right nipple. The chain dangled below her breasts, uncomfortably tugging on her tender nipples every time she moved.

The final “gift” was a small black butt plug with another suction cup base. It was only a few inches long with a tapered end. Despite its small size, it took her nearly ten minutes to work the thing into her ass, slowed down by fear and her own tightness. It didn’t hurt as bad as she’d expected, but was still an awkward and unwelcome lump in her rectum.

Once she was certain the box was empty, she took a long look at herself in the mirror. Collared, gagged, clamped, and stuffed. She looked and felt more like a sex doll than a person.

Well, she couldn’t waste too much time feeling sorry for herself. Christine turned on her webcam, adjusted it, and laid on top of her bed. She had work to do.

To her shame, only the first two orgasms were fake. After an hour of pleasant tinging from the vibrator, her pussy had grown sloppy and wet, and even the light rubbing of her clit sent pangs of ecstasy through her. It was embarrassing, but joy was hard to come by these days, and she refused to fault herself for finding some. She gave in to the pleasure, and spent the next three hours riding wave after wave of it.

The hardest part of the day was emailing the video. Christine knew all too well that she was putting herself even more under his power. It would be yet another card he could hold against her as insurance on her behavior. But she was already caught.

She spent the rest of the day studying as her parents had demanded, albeit naked and in bondage gear, and changed just a few minutes before they got home. There were no further notes from Jordan, nothing to let her know if there had been a problem or if she’d performed well enough.

On Tuesday morning, there was another note on her bed.

“Hello, Christine. That was a lovely video you made for me. I almost couldn’t resist masturbating to it, but I held out. I have to save some cum for your guts, after all.

“Speaking of which, there is one more part of Friday night that I forgot to mention in the last note. After you have finished pleasuring me with your asshole, you will use your tongue to clean your filth off of my dick. You will do this without prompting and without complaint, and when you are done you will thank your master for a delicious meal. Disobedience will be punished.

“Because I am a generous master, I have decided to give you a day to familiarize yourself with the taste beforehand. Once you have finished reading this note and getting changed, you will go downstairs and fetch a bowl from the kitchen. You will squat over this bowl and do your business, and then get on your hands and knees and eat it like a dog. Because I imagine this will be thirsty work, you will do likewise with a bowl of piss. If I do not have a video of all this by the end of today, including you licking both bowls clean, I will be very unhappy with you.”

The first thing Christine did after reading the note was run to the bathroom and throw up. She clung to the toilet for nearly half an hour, emptying out the contents of her stomach. It was too much. She knew she didn’t have a choice, but she couldn’t do what he was asking. To eat and drink her own… she put her head over the toilet again, nothing coming out anymore but bitter, acidic strands of bile.

When she finally stumbled back into her bedroom, there was a new note waiting for her, handwritten this time. “Hello, Christine. I stopped by and couldn’t help noticing your reluctance for today’s task. If it helps, imagine waking up in the middle of the night, every night, choking on a fat turd straight from yours truly. That’s only one of the things I’ll do to you if I don’t get my video today.

“I suppose I should thank you for taking your time, though. That gave me the chance to think of one final addendum to today’s task…” The note continued on.

She was nearly sick again after reading, but her stomach had exhausted itself. Crying, she took off her clothes and put on the bondage gear, then went downstairs.

When they were ready, she regarded the two bowls in front of her, one filled with slimy shit, other with dark yellow urine. They both smelled awful.

Christine stared into her webcam, her expression haunted. It took her more than an hour to work up the nerve to do what needed doing. It wasn’t courage that finally motivated her, just channeled fear, the raw terror of knowing what would happen if she faltered driving her.

First was his cruel joke. She pulled the ball gag out of her mouth, leaving it dangling on her chin. “I’m… I’m a dirty little piggy,” she told the camera. “Oink. Oink. Oink.” Then she brought her head down and began the disgusting meal. There was no dignity to it, no propriety. She just wanted it over as fast as possible, so she slurped and sucked and chewed in a flurry. She felt exactly like the dirty pig she’d called herself.

Most of the filth was gone in less than two minutes. Licking the bowls clean took much longer, especially without the use of her hands. She had time now to really taste it, the bitter dirt taste of her feces and stale saltiness of her piss. Her stomach rumbled and threatened to spill its contents several times, but she was able to hold back. Inside her head she blared symphonies, movies, anything to distract her mind from what she was doing. She even tried to focus on the pleasure of the vibrator inside her, despite her disgust over being aroused at a time like this.

Nearly an hour had passed before both bowls were completely empty and shining with saliva. She scrambled to her feet, and rushed to the bathroom to vomit one final time. By the time she stepped out, an entire bottle of mouthwash and half a tube of toothpaste had been used.

9 thoughts on “Time Waits (Part 4)

  1. I like where this is going will we actually meet her sister also is she going to have to learn a poem like those lucky happy content lesbians Jim and Jake (how could they not be where they were sold to)(not that merchandice has feelings) met I hope so


  2. A wonderful development. Making her devour her own waste is a favorite of mione anyway but this is so beautifully developed. I look forward to the next instalment. Fantastic story!


      1. I chanced upon your stories on BDSMlibrary and loved them right from the start. I do not know how many times I’ve jerked off to “A night with John”. I hope you carry on writing. I do enjoy the relatively moderate pace of “Time waits” immensely. I hope there is plenty more to come.


      2. Lots more to come! Time Waits is one of my longest stories to date. Even if I don’t make any more progress on finishing it, there’s enough content left for about another month of updates.

        And I always love hearing when people like what I’ve written 😉


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