Extemporé

Soooo chapter three... I have a strange liking for French Maid outfits. >_>; Don\'t ask.


----------

Ch. 3 Freshen your linens?


Henn didn’t even need to open his eyes to know something was wrong. He could feel it. And it wasn’t comfortable. It was dark again… He had slept through the entire day. He was in the same awkward kneeling position he had been in last night, but this time he was actually sort-of laying down; his cheek resting on the floor and his arms sticking back behind him. Was he..? No, he wasn’t tied down. He could sit up, maybe even walk around. He rocked back into a sit, moaning as he did so and falling back forward again. Something was… inside of him… being held in… Paws searched, finding first the base of his tail and then venturing lower. Q’est-que c’est..? He felt straps leading to whatever it was that was being forced and held securely in his rear.
“Leave it, Henn.” Quinn’s voice was calm, casual. Though it held the sheen of ice as it did the previous night. Not again... Please, not again.
“Wh… what do you want?” Henn whined, struggling to get up again. Oh god… so uncomfortable… he could barely move without it hitting that spot in him, at which he faltered and fell back down again.
“Right now, for you to get up,” Quinn mumbled, sounding disgusted that he couldn’t even manage that. “Or is that too hard for a little girl like you?” he asked coldly. Henn bit back a moan and a shudder, managing to slowly get to his knees. He heard Quinn laugh. “On your knees…” A heartless chuckle. “I’m not even going to begin to tell you all the dirty things that come to mind seeing you like that.” Henn was glad for this. In spite of the cumbersome object being held in place inside him, he managed to stand. Shakily, at best. He finally was able to see what he was wearing. It was a very elaborate black French maid outfit, complete with garter, white frills, stockings, and… Henn felt the top of his head. Yes, he even had a French maid hat on, too. This outfit actually struck a cord of sadness in him. He and Quinn had always had a small joke going between them on which of them would be caught in a maid outfit first. It was always playful, though… never intended to be cruel. Looks like Henn lost that bet. It was uncomfortable to stand. He had to keep his feet a good distance apart to accommodate for his obstruction. He was panting softly from the exertion and pressure. Not to mention the teeny fact that… well, it was constantly brushing that little spot in him. He heard muted clapping.
“Congrats, love. You’ve finally managed to do at 27 what most children can do at less than a year,” he heard Quinn say. Henn was too dizzy and woozy to try and look for him, so he only stared at the floor, trembling.
“M…most ch-children.. Aren’t b-being treat... treated like this…” he reminded bitterly.
“Come now, my darling. This is your punishment, remember?”
“I…I st-still don’t know… what I-I’m being pu-punished for…” He suddenly felt Quinn’s hand on the back of his head again. It made him jump and then gasp. “Ahh…” he moaned softly. Take it out. For the love of Pan. He was so sensitive already… it didn’t take much anymore. He could hear Quinn’s sinister smile in his voice as he spoke.
“But what is important, is that I know. Now…” Henn felt his collar be brushed and he nearly lost his legs beneath him. But no, Quinn was just clipping a fine silk ribbon leash to the ring his tag was on. He began to pull on it. Henn had no choice but to stumble after him, moaning, whining, and panting the entire way. He led him into the living room. Quinn took a seat in the big chair and motioned for Henn to stand a few feet next to it. He appraised him from there. His weariness, his shakiness, his awkward stance. Henn’s breath was in small gasps. Let me go… He let out a low whine, upon which completing he was immediately sorry for. Quinn gave the leash a hard tug, sending Henn to his knees with a sharp thud and a cry of pain. He was so scared… what was going to happen now?
“I guess now’s as good a time as any to teach you how to act properly,” Quinn muttered, reaching out and pulling Henn closer by his collar. A shudder came and went.
“Gods stop..” he whispered breathily, twitching. Quinn only smirked, running his thumb over the tag that hung from the leather loop. Henn arched his back, more to relieve the discomfort in his rear than from the near-orgasmic waves that were coming from him touching his collar. He fruitlessly tugged at the back of his dress, trying to find some relief.
“I told you to leave it,” Quinn growled, releasing the tag. He studied him a moment longer. “Now, stand,” he ordered. Henn was still groggy, so it took a moment for the command to register. “Deaf are we? Or just disobedient?” Quinn questioned sourly. Henn’s ears lowered. Cruel or no, Quinn knew that no matter what he said Henn would do it. Henn struggled, crying out softly as he managed to pull himself into a stand. Quinn smirked. “Good, you can still hear me. I bet the ringing in your ears isn’t helping any.” Henn hadn’t paid it much attention, but the slight buzzing was indeed distracting.
“Wh-what… do I n-need to… do…” he panted, tugging at the back of his dress again, desperately trying to shift his device to be less uncomfortable. Failure. Quinn looked thoughtful, drumming his fingertips together in a sinister way, the leash still wrapped around one of his hands. He sighed, humming.
“Make me some tea,” he commanded. “Any kind.” Henn was mildly surprised. Something so easy… He dipped his head in a bow, thinking it wouldn’t hurt and was about to turn around when he felt another tug at the leash. “Didn’t say you could leave yet,” Quinn noted, wagging his index finger back and forth. “Now turn around, and bend over.” Tears came to Henn’s eyes. What was he going to do to him… he felt degraded enough. He followed his orders though, turning and slowly bending himself forward. He moaned softly as Quinn fiddled with the object. God, stop… but the worst was yet to come. Henn had just begun to wonder what he was doing until he suddenly felt a strong thrum run through him. He let out a startled cry, falling forward onto his knees, his back arching and he giving a deep, shuddering moan.
“Now stand.” Henn didn’t think he could. He was too busy trembling himself into pieces on the floor next to the chair. “Henn…” Quinn’s voice came again; soft. “That thrumming object has three settings. If you’re uncomfortable with the lowest one, I suggest you do things as I say, do them when I tell you, and do them right.” Henn didn’t need to be told twice. He staggered to his feet, shaking from head to foot and panting. He swayed as he stood as well, but didn’t lose his footing.
“Tea.” Henn took a deep gasp, and tried as best he could to walk into the kitchen. He tripped once, and had to grab the other couch to steady himself. He paused at the doorframe, his legs almost giving out again. He leaned on it heavily, small sobs and whimpers of anguish and, quite possibly, mild pleasure heard from him. He groped his way along the counter, leaning over onto it and searching the cupboards in a desperate manner, trying to find the silver tea set. Tray, teapot, and a ornate ceramic cup and saucer. He gathered the things and began his agonizing task of making the tea. He had to stop twice to collect himself after another moan and bout of sporadic gasping. Finally, he had everything together. He picked up the tray and staggered out back into the living room, the tray and its contents rattling something terrible.
“H-he-here…” he stuttered, wondering if he could finally sit again. It was getting unbearable… and he was pretty sure he was going to--
“Make sure to hold it, Henn. I never told you you could.” Oh dear god. He could read his mind. Or perhaps just his body. After he set the tray on the small table on the other side of the chair, he tugged down the front of his dress, trying to cover his shame, blushing something furious. “I don’t know if I’m going to let you at all, tonight. So you better brace yourself,” Quinn informed indifferently, pouring himself a cup of tea. Henn’s look was devastated, and he started to cry again.
“This tea isn’t hot enough, love,” Quinn informed, placing the cup back onto the tray. “You’re going to bend over for me, and you’re going to do it again.” Tears poured silently down Henn’s cheeks as he reluctantly obeyed, still trying to keep the front of his dress down. At least… there wasn’t anyone else here. He dealt with humility alright. But… not now.. Please not now. He cried out again, louder this time and he held out his paws to keep his face from colliding with the floor. It was so much worse… so much worse. He sank to his knees, his paws firmly over his lap, shaking worse than before. He was pretty sure his lower lip was bleeding, he was biting it so much to keep his moans down.
“D-dear l-lord… pl-please.. Ah… ahh…” he moaned, seriously not believing that he could hold it for much longer. It was just too much for him to bear. And especially after having the same torturous experiences just the night before.
“Stand up, Henn… Come get this tray. Make the tea again.” Henn scrambled to his feet, but not without falling and hitting his face like he had tried to prevent before. He stood there for a moment, looking like a two-year-old that had to use the bathroom, still holding the front of his dress down. If he could just stop quivering so much… He half-limped, half-shuffled over to the table and gathered the tray, doing his best to hold it with one paw as he made his way back to the kitchen. He let the water boil for longer this time.
“C-c…ca-can’t… y-you pl-pl-please… ahhh… st-stop…” he panted, leaning over the counter and gripping it as if it were his only link left to the world. He prepared the tea again, and brought the jumping tray out to Quinn once more, trying his hardest not to look too uncomfortable, lest the punishment become more severe.
“…You forgot the sugar, dear,” Quinn pointed out softly. Henn burst into tears again.
“Pl-please… it-t wa-was a mi-mistake… n-n-never again…” he sobbed, his claws on the verge of tearing holes in the dress, he was tugging it down so hard. Not too much longer until he’d not be able to hold it anymore. Quinn sighed and shook his head.
“I’m sorry, lovely… I’m going to have to make sure you never do it again. Bend over again, please.” Henn was convinced that if the punishment got any worse he was going to lose all self-control. But he complied. He deserved it… The vibration that ripped through his body brought him to his knees yet again, this time it leaving him grossly unable to comprehend anything. He was on his side on the floor, writhing and moaning, gasping for air and clawing at the side of the chair to hold his ground.
“I’m g-g-gonna --” he whined loudly.
“Henn if you don’t hold it I’ll never forgive you.” Those words were enough to allow Henn to get enough of a grip on reality that he was able to clamp both his paws down over the front of his dress. But the tremors still ripped through him, and he felt Quinn grab the back of his collar.
“F-for th-the l-love of ahh… ahhh… g-g-g-god!” Henn screamed. “I c-c-c-c-can’t ho-ho-hold it-t wh-when y-you d-d-d-do th-that!” He felt it. It wasn’t going to be suppressed. Quinn pulled Henn to eye level, staring at him with those vivid eyes Henn loved so much.
“Might I remind you that if I never forgive you, you’re alone in the world. You let it go, you might as well go kill yourself.” Henn couldn’t stop his sobs, the moans interrupting them at odd intervals. It wasn’t just a steady thrumming vibration. It’s pitch changed along with the intensity. It was so sporadic there was no telling what it would do next. Quinn pulled him in for a savagely messy kiss, leaving Henn feeling even dirtier than he did before. Quinn’s kisses even tasted different… metallic. No love at all. As if they were meant to be hurtful.
“Now go make me my tea. Again. Do it right. There’s not much else I can do to you.” He picked the tray off the table and dropped it onto Henn, spilling what was in the pot onto the floor. Henn whimpered, barely able to move his paw to gather the things onto the tray. He couldn’t stand, so he instead walked on his knees to the kitchen. He dropped the tray three times, and two times broke down into even more tears, writhing and curling into a ball to stop himself from losing it. But he always got back up again. Once in the kitchen, he shoved the tray onto the counter and managed to pull himself up, paw still clamped over the front of his dress. He set the water to boil, his knees finally buckling and he collapsing to the floor, falling forward against the floor-mounted cabinets, his tremors resonating along the wood doors, making them rattle in their settings.
“Wh-why d-do… y-you ha-ha… ahh… hate… m-me…” he whimpered through his tears, his back arching as a severe vibration tore through him, his vision fading for a moment as he moaned, collapsing back against the wood doors with a thud. He cut his face on the hinge, but he didn’t feel the pain. His sweat made the injury sting, but that wasn’t his main concern. After the water was done, he put everything back onto the tray and tried to lift it off the counter. …He couldn’t. So he set it on the floor and crawled back into the living room, nudging the tray in front of him as he went along. He managed to get it to the foot of the chair before he collapsed again, sobbing, moaning, and gasping.
“I-I c-can’t…” he whispered, curling up as tight as he could. It wasn’t helping.
“Hennesee O’Connel,” came the voice from the chair. It made Henn sob more. He really wasn’t going to be able to hold it this time. “Don’t you dare…” This was it. Game over. Quinn reached down and grabbed his collar to reprimand him, just as Henn stuttered a very breathy ’I’m sorry.’ He shuddered and moaned through his sobs. He’d done it… he couldn’t stop himself. Oh god… it was leaking through his dress. He brought his paws to cover his face in shame and sheer agony. Dead. He might as well go kill himself. No one loved him anymore. That was it. But to his complete and utter surprise, Quinn lifted him into his lap and switched the torture device off, unstrapped it and removed it, and tossed it into the living room garbage pail. Henn was still sobbing erratically and shaking as if he had been electrocuted. To top it off, he was a complete and utter mess again. But Quinn leaned back into the chair, reclining it, and pulling Henn on top of him to lay comfortably. Well, as comfortably as he could. Quinn then began to pet through his hair gently, whispering gentle hushes into his ears as Henn sobbed his messy self to sleep.