Waking Up: BDSM in the Future
You wake up hundreds of years removed from your last memory. At first, all you can recall is that BDSM was an important part of your life. Previously, a team of skilled doctors were unable to save you, such a long time ago. A little freezing, a little preserving, and with a promise and a prayer, they stored you until one day you could return to the world to be healed by future doctors and live among future generations of man.
As you open your eyes for the first time in hundreds of years, what have you returned to? The hum of machines. Lights and conduits and panels and bulkheads. The distant roar of what can only be massive engines pervades the air. You turn your head slowly. Streaks of white dots slide outside a porthole window against an inky black canvas. Stars? But where are you? Where are you going?
Meeting The Princess
Cruel, dark eyes gaze at you from a distance. A woman laughs at your confusion, your wonder, your rising anxiety. At this time, you try and find your voice, rusty from hundreds of years of disuse.
“No need, pet,” she whispers into your mind without even moving her lips. “I know your every thought. Every question is in my brain even before you ask. I am in your mind. There is nothing you can hide from me. In fact, you were thinking about BDSM. We have our own brand here. You will find out soon enough.”
At this instant, you begin to stammer,”But where, why?”
“Not important,” the sultry voice of her mental whispers inform you. Simultaneously, she places a robotic silver finger against your lips. “What is important is that you belong to me. Because I bought you, I own you. I am your Princess. Your Goddess. You do whatever I wish you to do.”
“But I belong to…” You are at a loss for Her name. Your BDSM Mistress.
“Was that who I was with last?” you wonder.
“Now, you belong to me,” she pronounces. “I control you. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do everything I say.”
Into The BDSM Machine
The click of her heels against the deck plates rings sharply in the air as she slowly circles around your naked form, taking stock of her property.
“This all must be a wonder to a simpleton like you. We’ve come so far since your barbaric days. I live in a world without pain. Without terror, or fear, or worry of mortality, or illness, or injury. It was decided long ago to do away with those things.”
She places her metallic hand to your bare chest. You are pulled to it like a nail to a magnet. Effortlessly, she lifts you above her head, your feet dangling freely in the air.
“Such a fragile thing. However did you last for so long?”
No Use Fighting
As much as you flail and tug at her arm, it is to no avail. Instead, each step she takes has a purpose. She carries you across her expansive quarters and lowers you down on your back onto a bed of steel. Its cool ribs biting at the skin of your back.
Your mind speaks without prompting. “I have not felt this sensation for hundreds of years. Not since that last BDSM dungeon’s play party. Was that my last memory?”
As precise as the inner gears of a Swiss watch, metallic hinges and joints display metal wires and rods. In similar fashion, everything pivots into action. Arms and legs are clamped down, securing you like stereo parts for shipment. Most importantly, you are held completely still.
Tiny darts of pain shoot from your feet and palms up to your neck. Electrodes attach themselves, measuring each movement in the light of each response. Measuring every twinge in the same fashion.
“That’s better,” she coos softly. “Now just one more thing.”
Becoming The Experiment
The Princess takes a black silk scarf and wraps it around your eyes, tying it tightly. You have a vague memory of being blindfolded once at one of those BDSM parties you went to. They seemed eons ago. They were eons ago.
You are now acutely aware of your heart pounding in your chest, while beads of sweat form on your brow. Struggling against the cold steel hands of the machine, each movement, each flinch, binds you tighter and tighter to its unyielding surface. A wet, reassuring kiss plants itself on the side of your head.
“If I were you,” the soft voice in your head, not your own, begins, “This would be an excellent time to start worrying.”
Motors high above your head begin to spin. Forthwith, sounds, loud, grinding sounds, grow closer and closer. The sound of a drill hasn’t changed in many hundreds of years. At any rate, you gasp at the noise, beginning to beg.
Begging Doesn’t Become a BDSM Submissive
“You don’t want to do this,” you stammer. “Please, I urge you…”
“But this is exactly what I want. As I have said, what else does a pet like you have to offer me?”
The heat and whir of the spinning motors draws nearer. Her metallic hand traces a line down your neck, over your chest, fingers curl on your abdomen as you instinctively twitch.
“Surely I have other things to offer,” you bargain. “Let me be your servant. I can do things…”
“Owning servants is boring in the long run and I have hundreds of them. I have everything between the stars I could ever want, except for possibly one thing.”
Provided that, a glimmer of hope shines inside you for just a moment. “Which is…?”
Her voice seems to whisper inside your mind, as if spoken softly into your ear. “The delicious fruit of a new sensation. I want to know what I am missing. In essence, I want to know mortality. Fear, yours, is what I want. Experiencing it for the very first time, through you, of course, my pet.”
You expect the madly screaming bit of the first drill to touch your forehead, but it doesn’t. The sound was something else, something moving all the same but far more blunt, though no less dangerous. Meanwhile, as you feel your body turned, you realize how naked you are and that something is spreading your ass cheeks. Concurrently, something hard is opening you. Once more you begin to protest but the sound of laughter echoes inside of you, drowning out even the sound of your own voice.
“Just relax. This will be fun.”
You realize BDSM has, once again, become an important part of your life.
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