Page 65 of Make Me Scream

“Not pleasant, was it?”

I thought it would fucking vibrate, if it did anything.

“No, professor,” I mutter. If he wants me to stay awake, that’ll get the point across. “Hey, how are you going to see me? Won’t it be pitch black in there?”

“There are a couple very, very dim LEDs on the inside. You’ll barely register it, but you’ll be illuminated enough for night vision to work. And if you use the tablet, then you’ll be well-lit.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Good. When you’re ready, get in.”

“You’ll be listening the whole time?”

“Yes. I won’t watch every second, but I will check on you frequently.”

Yeah, I bet he will. Not that I’ll know when — unless I get shocked.

After a deep breath, I step over the lid. The rod presses inside me as I move; my breath hitches until I set myself down and lie still on the cool padding.

“Have a good time,” Lane says as he closes the lid.

The darkness is as pure as any I’ve ever experienced. He said there would be dim LEDs, but I can’t see any. I hear muffled clicks as Lane snaps the locks into place. As an experiment, I try pushing the lid up, but it doesn’t budge even slightly.

I must have been insane to agree to this.

To start, I give myself time to get used to the situation. The darkness isn’t a big deal. I don’t really have room to move around, but it’s not like I have anywhere to go. What matters most is that the padding is comfortable.

Will I still be okay with all this after a few hours? I suppose I’ll find out.

My initial instinct is to close my eyes, but I force them wide open. I don’t want to be punished, especially not in the first damn minute. Plus, it’s so dark, it doesn’t really matter if my eyes are open or closed.

Taking care to go slowly, I test my range of movement. It’s not much. I can spread my legs only a little until my ankles touch the side of the sarcophagus. I can’t lift my legs more than a few inches before my knee hits the lid. There’s just enough room that I think I could turn over and lie on my stomach, but that’s out of the question. I’d be punished for sure.

Lifting my hands to the tablet screen isn’t easy. It’s not a great position for drawing, but I could give it a try. For now I focus on my breathing and try to meditate.

The hardest part, I discover immediately, is ignoring the belt I wear, and the toy secured in me. Even if I avoid fidgeting, the sensation of being held and filled never fades into the back of my mind. I won’t be able to enjoy any kind of reward until Lane lets me take this thing off, and that just makes me crave even harder. There’s no way to try and slip a finger inside and give myself a little relief — the belt covers everything.

I should draw. It’ll take my mind off my situation. If I don’t, I’ll just stew in my own juices.

Feeling around the tablet, I find the stylus, as well as the power switch. The screen turns on, but not all at once.

Please wait, it says, the letters barely visible, dark gray against a black background. The words brighten gradually, giving my eyes time to adjust.

Lane thinks of everything, apparently.

When it’s as bright as it needs to be, I select the app for drawing. Normally I would draw me or Lane or both of us, but my goal is to avoid anything that will feed my frustration. Instead, I think of a vintage, black-and-white postcard of the Manhattan skyline I found at a rummage sale when I was young. It hung on my wall for years before it wound up in a shoe box with my old decorations. I can still see it pretty clearly in my mind, though, so I try to recreate it.

If Lane’s watching, does he get what I’m trying to do? How well can he read me?

Not for the first time since I met Lane, I hear a laugh and a whisper from the devil on my shoulder. Just because I’m locked in this box, that doesn’t mean I can’t entice Lane to give me what I want. If I were to draw, say, something to convince him to let me out early… that would be his decision, now wouldn’t it?

I groan, exasperated with myself.

I’m doing a really shitty job of not thinking about Lane.

Skyline, Gwen. The Empire State Building, tall and majestic.

Kinda like Lane’s cock.

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