{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"7b3af7f5-071a-4aef-9783-4dd6612d24e4","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2022-09-28T10:50:25.36Z","title":"Her 28th birthday","slug":"her-28th-birthday","shortId":"BP5TMGzS","authorNote":"This story is inspired by an older story that I read many years ago, on a long-gone site. It was titled \"Her 30th birthday\".\n\nI hope the originals author, if he or she ever reads this, will forgive me for emulating the whole, simple premise. But I never really got that short text out of my mind, and I wrote this retelling in order to honor that person, not to steal their idea.\n\nIf you are the author of the original, feel free to contact me.","disclaimer":"This is a dark, scary story.","type":"Novella","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"Her 28th birthday passed like most of her other days had passed in the last ten years: Bound, helpless, enslaved in her Gods basement she endured her captvity as his faceless slave.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"d926240f-9d19-4dd5-b62b-93cdf948c0c9","title":null,"summary":"Her 28th birthday had come and gone like most of the others.Alone, locked in darkness, she would wai","wordCount":1142,"readTime":6,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

Her 28th birthday had come and gone like most of the others.

Alone, locked in darkness, she would wait in the small, windowless cell. Time meant nothing here. She did not know that a decade had passed already.

She would be lying there half asleep and half awake und the old mattress, until the faint noise of her Gods footsteps could be heard through the heavy door. A little later the door would be unlocked and her God would enter. She would grovel and buckle in front of him, a helpless figure pleading for his mercy. Her God had taught her to greet him this way years ago, and she did it every day, tenasciously. She knew how painful and degrading her punishment could be if he felt that her heart was not in it.

Ten years ago, she had been a bright young girl with just as bright a futrure ahead of her. She had come to the big city to pursue her dreams and to live life to the fullest extent. Her God had been an older man, an impressive man who slowly lured her into his orbit. At first, his interest in her had felt exciting and thrilling. Then, little by little, it had become unsettling. She had tried to break things off, but he had been many steps ahead of her. She had missed her chance to ever be free again.

Once her God was satisfied with the way she had greeted him, he knelt and verified that her restraints were still all in place. As always, she had not managed in any way to loosen her bonds. In fact, she had stopped even attempting to free herself years ago.

Her slender arms had been encased and strapped in a tight reverse prayer on her back. They were kept this way almost permanently and had long since become useless. Even if they were ever freed from the locks and bonds that held them, they would now be limp and much too weak to be of any use to her. Her legs were ech folded, strapped together inside rigid rubber sheaths so that her heels rested against her buttocks. She could not walk like this, only crawl like a bizarre, inhuman creature. Her body was encased in leather and rubber, the thick corset having become as common to her as a second skin. The high collar that was locked around her throat could transmit painful electric shocks, and her God used it as much to punish her as simply for his occasional amusement.

Her God would stroke her faceless, hooded head, his fingers tenderly running over the smooth rubber. He would unseal the eyeholes of the hood and allow her to see, and he would look into her beautiful blue eyes.

Those eyes had been what caused him to desire her when they first met, all those years ago. He had been impressed by her optimism, her energy, her dedication. She did not know it, but he had coveted to possess her from the first moment, and he had begun to prepare for her eventual transformation quite early. For her God, it had been a sign of his love for her as much as his lust for her utter destruction.

He would use her for the first of several times a day, balancing her groaning, contorted shape on his lap, pushing into her greedily. He would be pinching, slapping, and kneading her encased flesh. She had been a small and slim woman, but in the past years he had modified her heavily: Her breasts were gigantic now, as was her ass, so that she looked dehumanized and alien - an obscene, armless and faceless fuckdoll. Quivering and sweating she would endure, moan and helplessly orgasm while he used her.

Once finished, he would take her out of the cell, whispering soft commands and degrading words of affection to her. She would crawl after him, scuttling as fast as she could on her knees, scared of being too slow, because she knew this would force him to punish her. In the next toom she would be trained, tested. She had to obey commands, degrade herself, sink ever deeper into her role as his plaything. If she behaved well, she got fed. If she did not, he could always push her into a deeper circle of this living hell.

All those years ago, after she had tried to part ways with him, she had woken up in the labyrinth beneath his house. At first she had tried to argue with her God, then she had lied and pretended, in order to get him to release her. As her God had increased the restraints, she had begun to truly panic. As he started training her, she had realized what her fate was going to be. In her desperation she had gone berserk. She had tried to hurt him, tried to hurt herself.

Her God had allowed none of that nonsense, of course. Today she was completely encased, hooded, restrained and helpless, and all of this was the consequence of her rebellious actions. Then, as - starting to go insane in the permanent bondage he had sentenced her to exist in - she had refused food and water, her God had finally determined that he needed to exert even more control: He had installed a permanent rubber coating in her mouth and throat, so that she would never speak anymore. More importantly, from this day on she could not prevent him from feeding her. Morning he filled her belly with a nutrient-rich liquid diet that kept her alive and healthy, and would continue to do so for many years.

He had taken all agency, all control away from her. Daily enemas kept her clean, the way he preferred it. She was cathetered and so her bladder was only emptied when he decided it was time. He administered the appropriate drugs, VR-feeds and audioloops to even let her dream off the things he wanted her to.

She had hoped for a while that people would start looking for her. That maybe, one day, the door would open and someone else than her God would be standing there. But this never happened, and her hope had faded. He was the center of her existence now. Her memory of a former life slipped from her mind. What counted was the pain she experienced when her God decided she needed to be punished. What counted was the rawness of the orgasms when her God decided she was to be stimulated. What counted was the degradation, the feeling of utter helplessness, the eternal suffering.

Her 28th birthday came and went much like the others: With her now knowing what day it was, and not caring about it anymore. Her God was pleased with her, and so it felt like a good day when she was finally locked into her cell again.

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