Fear Factory


Fear comes it all sorts of forms. Fear of things, people, actions. There are valid fears and irrational phobias. There are fears that can be faced and fears that can be approached and fears that are so dark they’ll never be addressed. I have a co-worker that is afraid of large sinks. She refuses to use the bathroom in our warehouse and will hold it for as long as it takes to avoid having to come face to faucet with her phobia. I, on the other hand, like fear. To be more specific, I like other people’s fears. I like the way they react irrationally, the shortness of breath and the purely physical convulsions that seize the body. When you are playing with fear, there is something so powerful, so potentially malicious about how you are affecting the sub that it could easily become addicting.

She got off the train in my neighborhood at 9pm. I live in a rougher neighborhood, not the roughest by any stretch, but rough enough, and at 9pm when the weather is changing and people are running around happy to be out of the house, it can make a lone girl walking down the street uncomfortable. I usually pick up the sub to avoid hassles and to make better use of the time allotted us, but this time I had her walk. I followed her in my car and fed her directions by text.

Cross the street.

Turn left.

Walk down the alley.

Go into the open garage.


The overhead light was out so as I shut the garage door on her, she was left in the dark.

I park the car around front and take a casual stroll to let her stand in the dark naked for a while. The thin metal garage door barely stops sounds so the chatter of people passing by makes her feel as if she is surrounded by the general public. One of the most interesting things I have found about public nudity is that it really depends on the crowd’s opinion. If you are in approving company, at a club or play party where it is accepted or even expected, being naked can be liberating. If you are in a general public environment, nudity can make someone very self-conscious. The sounds of people walking by made her nakedness an isolating thing. I stood outside the door for a moment listening to her breathing as she tried to hold still.

I burst in and her breathing immediately changed to more rapid, shallow breaths as I threw an oversized pillowcase over her head and upper body. I took two belts and strapped them tight around her chest and waist. The pillowcase itself was confining enough but the added constriction made her breathing even more labored. She was about to lose her shit and we had barely started!

I spun her around to face me and bent down to pick her up. I grabbed her by the waist and my fingers felt that her cunt was already soaked. I threw her over my shoulder and headed for the back stairs. The walkway from the garage to the stairs runs between our building and the next, which is an apartment complex. It was late at night and I rarely met people in passing but I moved quickly to avoid any questions that might come about from being seen carrying a girl in a bag into my house in the middle of the night. The last thing I need is for my neighbors to think that I am a serial killer.

We made it to the stairs without incident and were rounding the corner, out of sight when the sound of people passing by made me freeze in my tracks. I was not likely to be seen but I wanted to give her a moment to hear the people. I wanted her to think about us getting caught, about trying to explain to strangers that we were friends and this was just a game. The moment passed and I moved on. Up two flights of stairs and to my door, I put her down to walk into the house. I direct her to the room with one hand on her neck. In, around the bed, past the suspension frame and on to the mat she goes. I kick her in the back of the knees to make her collapse and leave her on her knees with her forehead touching the ground as I go back down to the garage to retrieve her clothes.

When I get back I fall upon her with punches and slaps, watching her wriggle and writhe in the bag. I pull on her hair through the case and bring the cloth in on her nose and mouth, increasing the feeling of suffocation as I growl in her ear. She is whimpering as I beat her chest and pound my forearm into her back. I pull off the first belt, fold it in half and spank her with it. She cries out in pain and pulls away. I hold her still and slap her again and again. I get bored of the belt and go back to punching and slapping, pulling and growling.

I wanted her to feel that she may have made a mistake by deciding to play. I wanted her to feel that she had no control even if she wanted it, that I held all the cards. She continued to moan and cry out as I beat her more and more. I reached down to take off the second belt and she immediately tensed up. She knew that as soon as the belt was off I was going to use it. She was flinching already as I worked the buckle and pulled it out from underneath her. I spanked her again and again listening to that most gratifying of sounds as the belt slap mixes with her cries of pain.

I grabbed her face and hold her nose and mouth, waiting for the panic, and just as she starts to thrash I let go. As she gasped for breath. I stood her up and wrapped my arms around her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs. I released and the air flooded back into her lungs. Squeeze again, hold and release a couple more times to ensure she was lightheaded when I took the pillowcase off.

When she came out of the pillowcase, the first thing she noticed was the lighting. I had replaced the lamp bulb with a black light to screw with her senses. She is a very tactile person and to go from the enclosure where she was seeing almost exclusively with her body to being assaulted by the sharp, artificial contrast left her more confused. I took advantage of this to double down on the beatings that were now sharper without the fabric to soften the sting. I threw her back down and started moving her head back and forth by pulling hard on her hair. She was completely out of her head by now and, like a well-rested dough, she was ready to be worked over. One finger, then two, then three. I fucked with her cunt until she was begging to come. I pulled out and squeezed her thighs, reached over for the Hitachi and turned it on low as I went back in for another three-finger work out. She couldn’t hold it any longer and I let her cum, watching as she squirmed on the floor like a fish gasping air.

In the end it was a blast and what I learned about fear is that there are so many different kinds of fear, so many ways of scaring someone and invoking that gut response to terror. We definitely need to do this again… and again and again.

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