whom you'd, previously, numbered as friends but who now saw you for what you really are, a broken man. Trying to ignore all your surroundings but unable to do so because she's there, poking you with her cane and taking pictures of her victim; the predator toying with her prey.
Yes, the humiliation was the worst.
No, the helplessness was the worst.
Have you ever realised that, despite your arrogant imagining that you would always be able to find a way out, there was no escape? The key to your cage tauntingly dangling from the choker around her neck as she tormented you. Securely tied at the ankles, the bonds biting into your flesh through your tights creating fresh welts - **your** tights. Wrists fastened together behind your shoulder blades and in a crouching position because the cage, that is now your home, is not large enough to permit you to lay full length in. Only two choices open to you; either you remain as her victim or you suffer the indignity of her releasing you, just as you are now, and giving you your freedom but at the cost of knowing that all those pictures, all the videos, will be sent to the email addresses of your friends and family before being posted on your social media sites that she now has full control of - **your** social media sites.
Yes, the helplessness was the worst.
No, the pain was the worst.
Have you ever been subjected to more pain that you can imagine? Bound, reverse-wards, to a dining chair as she went to work on your face, slapping at first but, later, with her fists, brutally so that you can taste your own blood in your mouth. Then moving behind you, you watch, in a strategically placed full-length mirror, as she measures the distance between her new position and your back before proceeding with a bull-whipping of ferocious savagery. Neither your tears, your screams nor your begging will make the slightest difference. Your initial begging was to undergo this torment and so any further begging only serves to spur her on, to encourage her to smash through her own, hitherto un-thought of, limits to set greater, more perverse, limits than you could ever have thought possible. Each cut of the whip tearing flesh with you feeling the blood drip down your back and, later, feeling that blood mingle with her urine as, standing on the dining table, she relieves herself down your back, the saline urine adding a fresh level of pain to the, now open, wounds.
Yes the pain was the worst.
No, the knowledge that you'd asked for this was the worst. You'd begged for it, you'd dared her to break you and couldn't believe that she could actually do it.
But she did....
.... so now you're broken and you will remain broken because she's only just begun. She has a whole dark imagination to explore yet and you, dear victim, are the vessel she will sail in on her voyage to explore the darkest recesses of her psyche.
And you'd begged for it.