12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2017 – #1: The Little Drummer Boy

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When Vivian pulled into her driveway, she could already hear the sound of it beyond the interior of the car. Drums. Crashing away to a beat she couldn’t place.

She knew who it was instantly: Dave, the rarely seen twenty-something that lives directly across the road from her.

She knew this because he introduced himself as she was trimming the garden out the front of the place she was renting.

He had pulled up in some beaten old white Toyota hatchback and as he moved to check his mail, he thought he might has well ought to introduce himself.

That day was a stinking hot Sunday afternoon, and the only thing Vivian wanted to do was quickly trim the tree to appease the landlord and get back into the sweet, chilly comforts of the aircon inside.

Dave, however, wanted to introduce himself. He did so wearing a boyish grin and baring his row of perfect white teeth, which Vivian found oddly off-putting.

He was new, he said. Wanted to acquaint himself with the people of the neighbourhood. Vivian found herself nodding and smiling on autopilot.

 

Vivian remembered this as she stepped out of the car, locked it and turned to check her email.

On the way to the mailbox, her eyes stopped at the open garage door that led to Dave’s place. The drumming was louder now, rat-tat-tat-rat-tat-rah, crash.

Even from here, Vivian could see the sweat glistening off of his forehead. It seemed to light up from the light in the garage.

Her gaze seemed to catch his attention. In an instant, the rat-tat-tat came to a halt, the cymbals fading out to give way to the sound of banal suburbia. Kids bouncing a ball somewhere, someone mowing their lawn up the road.

Vivian could see Dave smiling from here, he rose from the drummer’s seat and began to head towards her, but Vivian was holding a bag full of Christmas presents for her family – presents bought too soon to Christmas. It was the 18th of December and Vivian did not want to waste a second of her afternoon outside making awkward small talk.

She found the keys in her handbag, stumbled to find the door lock – and turned. Dave was out of the garage as she closed the door behind her.

 

Her black-and-white cat rushed to her feet, meowing about her own day.

“Really?” Vivian asked the cat named Chicago that purred at her feet.

In the back of her mind, she suddenly felt like a crazy cat lady. Her mum’s voice came to her from somewhere in the empty house.

Viv, it’s time to find someone. You’re twenty-seven, you’re not getting any younger.

Vivian shook off the thought; there was no time for that. Dinner had to be ordered, she had decided, and while waiting, she’d wrap presents for the family. She was to make the drive to Sydney next week, when her annual leave kicks in.

 

That was when the knock at the door came, and Vivian froze. That could only be one thing, she knew – Dave. For some reason.

Another knock caused a slight spasm in her body. This was weird, she thought, really weird. Rear Windows-level of weird.

She decided to let it go. Later, she would claim she was in the toilet at the other end of the house. Not her best white lie, but it would do. No one would want to stop his or her business just to answer the door.

Yet she found herself moving to the door. Weirder yet, she found herself opening the door. Something pulled her there, a magnetic charge. Something within her that was curious.

Sure enough, it was Dave. He was standing behind the screen door, his black singlet drenched where the sweat had run.

Vivian felt herself smile, to which Dave smiled at her back — and that was when pain exploded across her temples and her world went dark.

 

 

Ears ringing, head burning, eyes watering – Vivian woke.

With a grunt, she tried to move, but there was a weight beneath her chest.

No, she thought, that wasn’t right, that can’t be right. Vivian was on her stomach against freezing cool concrete.

Cool? She wondered a moment, then something else came crashing into her mind – she was completely nude.

Sensations came flooding to her senses then. She could feel her nipple, hardened by the cool cement, propped up at an angle, scraping the cement beneath her. She could feel her legs, suspended in –

Suspended? Why suspended?

Vivian wriggled on the spot and to her increasing horror, realised her legs were bound together, with some kind of fabric itching at her legs.

The itchiness seemed to spread with her realisation, washing down over her arms and wrists.

Rope, she thought, it must be. It feels like.

Vivian craned her neck to see behind her. She was in a garage.

Dave’s garage. It was almost as if she had forgotten.

What has he done to me?

A door opened from somewhere behind her. Shoes echoed on the floor beneath.

Vivian tried to scream but the gag in her mouth muffled her. It tasted like rubber.

The shuffling of the feet stopped, followed by a click, then the room came alive with the sound of disposable pop music.

 

Vivian wriggled on the spot, to no avail.

“Now…I need you to do something”

His voice was near her ear now, his breath sour.

“And you’re probably gunna want to scream, but I cannot allow that. So, no tricky business, eh?”

His voice sounded young – how young? Was Vivian wrong to think he was twenty-seven?

As he knelt down beside her, he came into her line of sight, wearing that boyish grin he had on his face when introduced himself all those weeks ago.

“And no biting” He said, his voice smooth.

Gently, he lowered the ball gag around Vivian’s mouth –

“Somebo-“ Vivian went to scream but pain shot across her back, stiff and fierce.

Don’t do that, hm?”

Dave’s voice was wavering. “I need this, okay? Just…just do this, or…”

His deep brown eyes looked her in the eye. “That pain will continue, hm?

Vivian found herself nodding. She didn’t know why she felt the need to be silent, she just felt compelled to. The sensation startled her.

 

“Now, suck on these…”

Dave’s hand came into view, clasping his drumsticks, which had the appearance of a terrible rotten yellow colour. Old, they seemed. Ancient.

“Gently” Dave cooed, as if instructing a child.

He slid them carefully into her mouth one at a time. Vivian ignored the taste of sweat that filled her mouth, and sucked on them as was asked. All the while, thoughts of rage swirled around in her head.

Carefully, Dave rotated each stick in her mouth, lathering them up in her saliva.

For what purpose, she did not know, but the unanswered question frightened her.

When she was done, Dave put the gag back into her mouth as he smiled and disappeared out of view, leaving Vivian alone with the pop music. She trembled at the thought of what he had in store for her.

 

Suddenly her body seized in a mix of pleasure and pain as something thin and rigid slid into her. Her legs trembled where they were tied back overhead and her arms began to sting.

The pain that had begun the sensations gave way to pleasure. Vile, unwanted pleasure that defied her thoughts.

Vivian felt her hair drop around her eyes, and she was blinded, unable to remove the strands.

With her eyes beginning to get irritated by the intrusion of her hair, she squeezed them shut.

The drumsticks sliding into her, the object coated in her spit, felt queer inside her.

A thought came to her in her madness of her coating her own finger as she began to touch herself.

When was the last time I touched myself? Was the thought that came barrelling into her mind as she trembled under the sensation of the drumstick working her.

“I’ve dreamt of how you’d tremble” Came Dave’s soft voice. “It was wrong of me to, perhaps, but I did.”

She could hear him take a breath. “It doesn’t compare…how could it?”

Vivian could feel the drumstick stop. Its presence just sitting inside her, waiting to continue, her madly waiting for it to continue agitated her.

When she felt the other drumstick slide into her ass, her face fell against the concrete floor. Pleasure gave way to pain. The ball gag stifled her cry.

Her thoughts fell through her mind as if on fast-forward –

I haven’t done anal not really   I tried experimenting once in my teens but never saw the appeal   I don’t see it now   Why are you doing this?

 

Vivian’s face grinded against the concrete, her nipples dragging along the floor as the drumsticks simultaneously pumped in and out of her cunt and ass.

Pain and pleasure traded places back and forth, sea-sawing between the intense levels.

She could feel her own saliva, the saliva she had coated the drumsticks with (why didn’t you try to scream more?), spill out of her mouth and run down her chin.

It continued to run right down to her breasts, falling down across her nipples.

Vivian so desperately wanted to wipe up her own drool, to ease the sensation of it running down her nude body. She wiggled to try and manipulate its movement to stop.

The act went unnoticed by Dave.

 

Vivian wanted to beg, wanted to plead, wanted to scream a string of vulgar insults, but the gag held her lips in place, her moist lips that started to ache with the twisted position they were with.

I need to get out of here I need to get free I need to

I need to

I need to

Vivian found herself wiggling back against the drumstick in her cunt; she needed to reach her clit. She needed that desperately. The desire surged from within her, threatening to come out full force, tightening her chest.

She was close, she was close, she was so close she could feel a moan come out through the gag when –

 

The drumsticks stopped moving. Everything – her desire, the pain, and the pleasure – it all came crashing to a halt.

Vivian swore through her ball gag, trying to kick her legs back out at Dave fruitlessly.

She could hear him laugh.

“I have to practice”

 

Vivian felt he drumsticks slide out of her cunt and ass, another act that brought her dangerously close, yet so far. She grunted, it came out guttural and animalistic.

When she felt the drumstick slap on her ass once – then again, she flinched.

Rat-tat-tat-tat came the sound of her skin being struck. The pleasure swept through her restrained body. Her cunt was achingly wet.

 

Vivian whimpered, Dave practised. She was his instrument.

2 thoughts on “12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2017 – #1: The Little Drummer Boy

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