sober living for alice!
by Di Anna Miller
The house was just shy of a catastrophe. Dishes smothered the sink and lay scattered across the counters. A trail of ants marched dutifully from a crack in the oven, scavenging whatever morsels they could. Piles of laundry, both clean and repulsive were piled on the floor in the garage.
Carrie-Anne sat on the couch with her feet elevated above her head. Her Devo t-shirt bunched up around her waist revealing a piercing, her black jeans beat in from three straight days of use and a matching thong sticking out.
She fidgeted with a pair of glasses that didn't belong to her, alternatively closing one eye, then the other while flipping channels on the TV.
Boredom ruled.
A three-day weekend meant two things at the sober-living home. First, every girl in the place would request a pass and disappear, go to meet old friends and gloat about how wonderful their life has become since forced AA meetings. Second, half the girls would not come back, or try to come back, fail the drug test, and end up on the street again.
Carrie-Anne pondered calling her ex-boyfriend, a ponderous hulk that never seemed to run out of pot. She knew from experience where this line of thinking would lead, but she still enjoyed the daydream. He was miserable, a sub-ape with a wide jaw and hair on his knuckles. If she spent five seconds with that creep she'd be diving for the pipe; or worse, the needle.
The door pounded twice and sound startled her. She jumped to her feet and before she reached the entryway she heard two more raps. The door jostled in its frame.
“Hang on!” Carrie said.
She took off the glasses and ran a hand through her black hair. She opened the door.
Alice stood on the front porch and shouldered her way in as soon as the knob turned.
Carrie-Anne looked at her with a start, then laughed.
Alice, her little red-head roommate, the little talkative fire-cracker flirt, had her hands and chest wrapped with clear packing tape. Her mouth sealed and wrapped several times around. She held her purse with both hands behind her back.
“Were you kicking the door? God you scared me!” Carrie-Anne said between laughs.
Alice nodded. Her cheeks bulged around the tape, her face red. She attempted to talk but unintelligible sounds spilled out. She strained her neck and face against her gag to no good. She pleaded with her eyes.
“You and that boyfriend of yours. Did you really piss him off? Or was this your idea?” Carrie-Anne said.
“Mmmhh… Mmmphh mmmm!” Alice mumbled and rolled her eyes.
Carrie-Anne reached over and grabbed the blushing redhead's face. She pushed her hands against the tape pulling it even tighter. She slammed Alice back up against the door and closed it. She clamped her hand over the girl's gagged mouth.
“Is this how you like it?” Carrie-Anne whispered. A smile creased her lips and she brought her face right up to Alice's ear.
“There's no one else home you know.”
Alice ducked under her arm and gave Carrie-Anne a swift kick in the leg.
“Mmhh! Mwwm Moow!” Alice shook her head and moaned in exasperation.
“You brat! I was just teasing you. Fine come here…”
Carrie-Anne again seized Alice's face and searched for the edge of the tape. Up close she could make out some writing on the gag.
Do not help me.
“Oh, am I even allowed to do this? I don't wanna spoil your game or punishment or whatever.”
Alice nodded and grunted.
Carrie found the edge of the tape around the bag of Alice's head, and with some difficulty started to peel it back. It took her a couple of minutes just to unwind it one layer, the tape kept sticking to itself. She undid three wraps and realized that it still looked as severe as when she started.
“This will take forever!” Carrie-Anne said, “Hang on.”
She darted into the kitchen on her tiptoes; she tried not to let any stray puddles soak her socks. She opened at drawer and withdrew a pair of scissors.
“Okay, this will be better.”
Alice turned her back to Carrie-Anne and held out her hands. They were bright red. Alice looked over her shoulder at Carrie-Anne.
“Oh sheesh.”
Carrie-Anne slid the blades between Alice's wrists. Alice shivered a little from the feel of the cold steel on her flesh. With several small snips she broke the remaining strands and freed Alice's wrists.
The tape had pressed indentations into the skin and forced the blood to the surface. Alice rubbed her skin with relief. She pointed to her gag.
“Mmm Mhhh Mph.”
Carrie-Anne carefully slid the scissor's edge up Alice's face. The blade nipped her cheek and a drop of blood formed. Alice gave a yelp into her gag.
“Sorry sorry! Just one sec.” Carrie-Anne said and cut a small tear in the tape. She gave a pull on it and managed to get three more wraps off. Alice slapped her hands away and ran into the bathroom.
Carrie-Anne leaned against the door and waited.
So much for boredom.
Alice and her boyfriend were so strange. She looked like a normal, happy little girl, maybe a little dangerous, but not in any way like a hardcore submissive. And her boyfriend… he was a skinny geek with thick glasses and a closet full of white-collared shirts. If anyone on the planet looked like a shy vanilla dork, it was him. Yet Alice always told stories about the strange things they did together.
He had once stuffed her mouth, taped it, and cuffed her hands. He then dressed her in a long overcoat and a scarf and took her for a walk. Alice described with elation how when anyone attempted to talk to her he would simply answer their question and steer her away.
They were bizarre.
Hours later, no one else had come home. Alice sprawled across the couch and Carrie-Anne lay on top of her. Alice clicked through channels on the TV at a rate of three per second.
“Why do you do that?” Carrie-Anne asked.
“Cause there's nothing good on.” Alice said.
“No,” Carrie-Anne bit her lip, “The bondage stuff. That was so weird today. What if it wasn't me? Wouldn't you be embarrassed?”
“God no. That was hot.”
“You're so weird. I mean, how can that be appealing at all?”
“If you don't get it I don't think I can explain. Don't you have a fetish or anything? Something that you just think is unbelievably hot for no reason?”
“I don't know.” Carrie-Anne buried her face in Alice's stomach.
Alice paused for a second and said, “I love him so much you know? I know it sounds sick, but its like, if something turns him on, then it turns me on too. I like being dominated. I like being bound and humiliated and punished.”
Carrie-Anne grinned. “I can do it better than you.”
Alice turned her gaze from the TV to the girl lying on top of her.
“What did you say?” She said in mock anger.
“I'm way more submissive than you. You always order everyone around. You take control of everything, twenty-four hours a day. Except when you're with him, of course. I'd be a way better sub. I bet I'd look hot too, all tied up, with a gag in my mouth.”
Alice slipped her fingers into Carrie-Anne's hair. She gave a tug and pulled the girl's face up.
“Be a good girl then. Fetch me a pair of your knickers and the black bag under my bed.”
Carrie-Anne grinned sheepishly and looked into the redhead's eyes. She hopped up to her feet, excited.
Alice jumped up too and grabbed the girl's hair again. With a yank she brought the Carrie-Anne over her knee.
“You don't know anything. You crawl into your room, fetch your knickers, crawl into my room, fetch my bag, then crawl back here.” Alice said.
Alice slapped Carrie-Anne on the ass four times, hard.
“Understand?” She said.
“Yes Ma'am.” Carrie-Anne said, shocked.
This was insane. Fun, but insane. Better than boredom, Carrie-Anne told herself. She dropped to the ground on all floors.
The carpet burned her knees, almost at once. She moved slowly down the hall.
Is this what they do? Is this how their relationship works?
She crawled into her bedroom and noticed a pile of clothes under the bed.
I bet subs make good maids, she thought.
She opened her dresser drawer and looked through her panties. Knickers, Alice always called them. Something silly, something a shy little girl would wear. She had a bunch of thongs, tiny little g-string panties. Tons of things her Cro-Magnon ex-boyfriends enjoyed.
There. Tucked away was a pair of little girl panties, red and plain. The only pair she had that covered her entire ass.
This will get her mad! She wants something that's going to leave me nearly naked!
Carrie-Anne suppressed a laugh and crawled into Alice's room across the hall.
It was relatively clean, band posters created a wall paper that covered up water damage.
There, a black bag under Alice's bed. Carrie-Anne pulled it out, marveled at the weight of it. She knew Alice would be upset, but she couldn't resist. She delicately unzipped the bag.
Her eyes opened wide and she brought a hand to her mouth.
It was filled with coils of rope, hand-cuffs, various ball-gags and bits. A paddle was tucked in the side and Carrie-Anne realized with glee, so was a tightly wound whip. She didn't have time to go through it all, nor the pedigree to determine the use for many of the devices. She closed the bag.
What is Alice going to do? Carrie-Anne felt butterflies rise in her stomach.
Much better than boredom.
The carpet now caused her real pain, her knees were raw. After so short a time, too. Carrie-Anne now realized that she might not be as tough as she thought. She crawled to Alice's feet and lowered her head.
Alice held an unlit cigarette in her teeth.
“Backyard. Crawl.” She said.
Carrie-Anne did as she was told, Alice followed right behind her. Twice Carrie-Anne flinched expecting a spanking that didn't come. Alice stayed silent, invisible.
Alice opened the glass door to the back porch and pointed out. Carrie-Anne crawled onto the cement and Alice gave her a swat on the way.
The small cement outcropping from the house held two flimsy plastic chairs, a flimsy plastic table, and a tremendous bug zapper. The lawn was routinely trimmed but browned in areas.
Alice pulled a silver Zippo out of her back pocket and held it up to her face. A red glow illuminated her for a moment, and revealed the word “Slave” engraved on the lighter. No doubt a gift from her man.
Carrie-Anne mewed. She said, “Mistress? Ma'am? Can I have a drag? I haven't had a cigarette in hours!”
Alice looked down at her as though she had just noticed her. She scowled and dropped down to one knee. She took a deep drag off her cigarette, and placed her lips on Carrie-Anne's. She exhaled all the smoke.
Carrie-Anne coughed and pulled away.
“You talk too much you little bitch. A good submissive understands how to be silent, how to give up completely to their master.” Alice stood back up. “Let's see those knickers you brought me.”
Carrie-Anne handed over the panties. Alice scrutinized them for a moment, turned them over.
“Ohh geez. Please don't make me change into those out here. I mean, I'll do it, But please don't make me!”
Alice shook her head with distaste. “We'll have no more talk from you. Take these panties, ball them up, and stuff them in your mouth.”
Carrie-Anne paused, shocked. “You want me…”
Alice stepped over and slapped her hand over Carrie-Anne's mouth. She took one last pull off her cigarette then flicked it.
“Look what you've made me do! A good submissive! You do…” Alice spanked Carrie, “…what I tell you…” again, harder, “…without question. Gag yourself with those panties. Now!” Alice gave her one last succession of smacks for good measure.
Alice removed her hand from Carrie's mouth, and the girl obediently balled and stuffed her own panties into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged.
Why did I have to be a smartass? I should've grabbed a g-string.
Alice lifted her black bag onto the patio table. She unzipped it and shuffled through its contents. She withdrew two black rolls of tape.
“This one is duct tape.” Alice said and held the first roll forward.
She knelt and ripped a piece off. She pushed a finger in Carrie-Anne's mouth and tucked her panties deeper in. She pinched the girls lips together and plastered the black tape across her mouth. She smoothed the wrinkles and made sure it stuck good and tight, then ripped another piece off and stuck it over the first.
Alice stood back up and grabbed the second roll.
“This is called bondage tape. It doesn't stick to skin or hair; Its just cosmetic, really.”
Alice stepped behind Carrie-Anne this time, brought an end of the tape to her cheek, stretched and wrapped it around her head. Alice made three passes, each time pausing to clasp her hand over her roommate's gagged mouth, each time tightening the tape unmercifully.
She stepped back and appraised the girl.
“You were right about one thing. You look great gagged.”
Carrie-Anne blushed. Her cheeks bulged from her panties, the tape sealed and wrapped her mouth up tight. Her hands were not bound, yet she had never felt more helpless and silly than she did right at that moment. She lowered her head.
Thirty minutes later the girls were back in the living room. Carrie-Anne's hands and arms were bound with rope, her feet cuffed and a length of cord connected the two, hogtying her. Alice tied her up like this on the coffee table, making her into a living decoration.
Carrie-Anne flushed and excitement racked her body. She was helpless, completely, and she felt exhilarated. She moaned into her gag. Where was her ape-boyfriend now? She could deal with any asshole at all, just so long as he gave her what she needed. She nearly cried. This was the strangest evening of her life, and she admitted to herself she had more than a slight crush on Alice.
Alice pulled Carrie's jeans down and revealed her black thong. Her pale ass forced tight by the cruel hogtie. Alice took a black sharpie out and began to write on the girl's naked skin.
Submissive. Property of Alice.
And it was true.
They were laughing together an hour later, flipping channels again when the first girl to fall off the wagon stumbled in.
“So you bored with that geek of yours yet?” Carrie asked.
“Never! You get your own!” Alice said.
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