Piano, Chapter 2

Thread 1, Part 4
Laysan

Piano, Chapter 2

(here) - recently

I paced aimlessly from room to room around the mansion quietly cursing Alba. "Rectify? What a stupid word. 'Rectify'. I hate that fucking word. Alba should go rectify herself. Fucking bitch."

I don't know that I was particularly angry at Alba. I just felt overwhelmed with negative emotions. I was angry with myself mainly. Eventually, I sat on the toilet rocking back and forth. For a while I was even too tense to go pee. Eventually, I relaxed and thought of what I should do to 'rectify' things. I didn't want to lose Paty's love. I didn't want anything about our relationship to change. I was happy. I decided that I needed to be as submissive as possible. I needed to show her that I am the perfect slave.



I padded down to our equipment storeroom and perused the large array of bondage paraphernalia that Paty owned. Most was custom made for me. It was quite an investment. Certainly she wasn't so angry that she would throw me out. Then all this equipment would be worthless to her. The thought of her kicking me out of her house sent shivers through my naked body. Tears began to drip steadily from my eyes again.

I had been out in the real world before. It ate me up and spit me out. I'm simply not designed for modern life's fast paced, results oriented society. I'm a dreamer. I suck at actually doing things. I get blocked with fear by the thought of doing even simple tasks that are required to survive. For example, I understand banking and earning interest on money and saving, but I just can't organize myself well enough to employ that knowledge and effectively bank. I can't maintain a swath of bill payments. I can't organize a household or maintain an attractive garden. I can't hold steady jobs. The concept of time schedules is difficult for me to handle.

When I say these things you may get the impression that I am lazy. You would not be the first to believe that of me. But, actually, I'm not lazy. It’s just… For example, if I know that I have to be some place at a particular time. Or, if I know that I have a deadline that I have to meet. Inevitably, something will catch my attention, it will pull me in somehow, and the next thing that I know, I'm late or the deadline has passed.

I was even tested for Attention Deficit Disorder long ago as a teenager. I don't have that either. I actually DO have the ability to focus on one thing for a long period of time. I just don't seem to have any ability to dictate the thing that I need to focus on. The topic chooses me.

I could not survive if Paty kicked me out.

When I was younger I lived a fake life to get by. I resorted to my beauty to manipulate people to help me survive. I had even had a lengthy heterosexual relationship hoping to find comfort in the security of fitting in with society's expectations. I did this even though I've known all my life that I am a lesbian. A sad, lonely, shy lesbian.

Being Paty's slave is the only authentic thing that I've done my entire life. Declaring my love for Paty was the first authentic expression of emotion that I ever remember. I could not survive without her love.

I’d do anything to prove that I am her submissive slave. Anything!

I had gathered the equipment that I had chosen to use to prove my submissiveness and I hefted it to the dungeon and into the cage. I filled a water bottle, stocked a container of energy bars, checked that the bed pan was accessible. I sent a text message to Alba with one word: "Purgatory". Now, Alba would know where to find me if Paty no longer wanted me. I set a timer on the winch and climbed into the cage. After five minutes the cage was hoist up towards the ceiling and I was sealed inside until they saw fit to come and save me.

But, I also wanted to give the impression that I was 'rectifying' the situation. I had brought the heaviest set of chains that Paty has ever bought for me. Extremely wide heavy cuffs lock around my wrists and ankles. Ceylon custom made the shackles for me so they fit tightly and comfortably even with their considerable weight. They are effectively designed to keep their captive particularly restricted in movement at all times. My wrist shackles were connected by only three large links; my ankles were restricted to less than half a meter. A central chain linked the ankle and wrist chains. This central chain continued from my wrists up to a wide, custom built collar. The length of the central chain had also been customized for me. Once I put on the collar, if I were able to stand, the central chain would be taut and my wrists would be held at my midriff. Additionally, after linking through my ankle chains, the central chain continued on for another meter or so and its endpoint was punctuated by a heavy metal ball.

I have worn these chains occasionally out and about the mansion. They are so heavy that even with their tight custom fit, they can begin to bruise. So if there is an ideal time to wear them, it is when you are lying down. Even still, you always know they are attached to your limbs, because every movement requires effort. Even when you are asleep. The subconscious desire to move an arm is a task which, for example, doubles in effort when the short wrist chain pulls the second arm along. That effort is further increased by the weight of the shackles and chain.

I quickly closed the shackles around my wrists and ankles. The sturdy key lay on a bench far below me. I would not be able to take them off again as long as I was suspended in my cage. Next, I locked the collar around my neck. It's cold surfaces matched exactly every curve of my  throat and slim neck. And despite its comfortable fit, I could still feel its weight press down against my collarbones.

Normally, when I put on these chains an erotic thrill tingles throughout my body. I did not feel that sensation this time though. Instead there was something deeper which triggered a fearful sense of nervousness deep in the pit of my stomach. This time I felt like I was adding solder to the fate which seals me in the role of a slave. I felt that this particular application of the chains is meant to say that I am a slave, that others should expect me to be bound as one. I felt like I was placing items of bondage upon my very soul.

Finally, I began to apply a particularly secure blindfold and its integrated head harness. The thick pads of the blindfold pressed deeply, filling the contours of my eye sockets. Two straps extended from the bottom of the blindfold down my cheeks and under my chin where the joined together. A strap on each side of the blindfold ran back just above my ears where they met up with two additional straps which prevented the blindfold from sliding down my face. Straps from under my chin joined these other straps in the hollow space at the back of my head where a tightly pulled locking buckle held everything snuggly in place.

And so I lay quietly in my cage high above the floor in the darkness above the lights praying that my self imposed restrictions would suitably prove my devotion to Paty. Hopefully she will see that I would do anything for her - my lover, my Mistress.