“Wakey-wakey,” Lauren’s voice called out, sing-song. “You can’t spend all day in bed. Not yet, anyway. We have work to do, Denny.”
Denny’s eyes fluttered open, greeted by his plain white ceiling. From his position on his back, he was in his own bed, on top of the comforter, naked as he had been when he passed out. The last thing he could remember was Lauren pointing the device at him, a thin black control device that looked like an cable television remote control.
He sat up on his elbows, his body unusually weak and drained. It felt as if every motion were made in slow motion, each contraction of muscle an effort that threatened to wipe away his will to move. Still, he looked around the room, assuring himself that he was whole and free to move, despite his reluctance to do so.
“Shower time, wouldn’t you say? You have Kelly’s scent all over you.”
Denny found his phone beside him on the night stand. It was set to speaker, and Lauren’s name was displayed at the top of the screen. The associated picture with her contact information was simply a pair of high-heeled black leather boots, crossed over one another at the heels. The sight of them created a familiar arousal stirring in his belly.
“What did you do to me?” he asked, sitting fully upright.
He found the choker around his neck and again tried to find a way to remove it, the tips of his fingers worrying at the edges and the solid square at the back of his neck. As he attempted to slip a finger between the choker and his skin, a powerful wave of nausea stole over him and he fell back to his side on the bed, curling his legs close to him in a fetal ball. He opened his mouth to wretch, heaving dryly, eyes shut tight as his stomach did somersaults.
“No, no, no,” Lauren said, cheerily enough, “That stays just where it is. In time, you won’t even be able to tell it’s there. Kelly loves hers, don’t you?”
Whatever Lauren was up to on the other end of the phone, it caused Kelly to cry out in pleasure. It sounded like she had finally cum after being teased for hours.
“As for you, I believe I told you to get in the shower.”
The pain departed as quickly as it had come, and Denny rolled off the bed to his knees, still clutching the bed to prevent himself from falling into a heap on the floor. With the aid of his bed and the night stand, he found his feet and stood, body slumped. Gravity itself held him fast, sapping him of strength and luring him back to the floor where he could find sweet unconsciousness again.
“Chop-chop,” Lauren’s voice urged him.
Nude save for the choker, he stumbled into the adjoining bathroom and mechanically turned the faucet until steaming water rained down, making hollow sounds as it struck the bottom of the tub. Denny stepped in, bending his head and turning so the water struck the back of his neck and streamed down his shoulders and chest. He felt better, certainly, the fog that encapsulated him now evaporating under the heat of the shower.
‘The pink bottle is soap,’ a voice said and Denny turned fast to the open door, expecting to see Lauren standing there. Finding he was alone was small comfort.
“Where are you?” He felt foolish asking the question aloud, but less so in light of the fact that Lauren and her goddess-like friend had broken in before. The fact he was not as upset about that particular bit of information was disconcerting somehow.
‘In your head, honey,’ Lauren answered. ‘I am in your brain. Consider me your conscience. Pink bottle or it gets the hose again.’ Lauren descended into giggles.
