The Forever Prisoner

Tenjou's been Shey's prisoner two weeks now. She came in thinking she'd take the domme down. Instead the trained soldier flipped the script and locked her up. The soundproof room stays silent. Tenjou sits cuffed at the wrists and ankles, ball gag jammed tight between her teeth. A panel in the wall slides open. Shey grabs a fistful of hair and drags her out. In the larger space, Shey clips the cuffs to a ceiling hoist and snaps an iron spreader between the ankle shackles, stretching Tenjou wide and high. Pain shoots through her shoulders before Shey even touches her. Bare hand first. Sharp smacks land on bare skin, then the riding crop cracks down in quick, vicious strokes. Tenjou thrashes, screams muffled to frantic noise. The leather belt comes next, heavy and loud, leaving broad red welts. Shey switches the gag for a leather panel muzzle, adds the blindfold, then wraps clear industrial film around torso and limbs until Tenjou is sealed to the chair. Calf wrap follows. Nothing moves. An ankle cuff on the hoist lifts one foot, sole exposed. The cane starts its rhythm—each strike a bright stripe of agony. Tenjou sobs behind the muzzle. Hot black wax follows, poured slow over raw, twitching skin. Shey’s boot sole presses down across the blindfold, forcing Tenjou to breathe nothing but leather and sweat while the domme savors every second of total control.