My Little Pixie

Chapter Twenty-Nine - The Shell

Late that evening, I was sitting alone in my private study with a glass of brandy - a medicinally large glass of brandy. The room was lit only by the light of the fire and I was deep in thought.

I am not comfortable when I am obliged to release the savage beast that lives inside me. At an intellectual level, I am fully aware that, in my chosen profession, it is occasionally necessary to perform statement acts of brutality.

But, nonetheless, every time I do so, I feel like a little bit of me is dying inside.

Even in such a cut and dried case as this.

I was shaken from my brooding by a knock on the door.

"Enter!" I called.

My little pixie came in and closed the door behind her. She was wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and looked singularly innocent and vulnerable.

She walked slowly across to stand in front of the fire for a moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. She must have recognised the state I was in.

I thought about it for a bit then gave a sigh. "Not really," I replied. I mean... what was there to say? 'For the safety of you girls and myself, I was obliged to act in a manner that I find abhorrent.' I had no wish to burden her with that.

"Then I'm all yours for tonight," she said, her pixie eyes shining. "Do your crazy sex-punishment stuff... in fact you can do anything you want with me."

"That's a dangerous offer to make!" I responded with a laugh.

"I trust you!"

"You really ought to know better than that by now!"

At least I made her smile.

I tousled her hair then stepped across to the small bar in the corner where I poured her a carefully judged brandy. Her eyebrows twitched slightly when I handed it to her. She never normally drank spirits.

We touched glasses and she moved to kneel next to me. As she did so, the t-shirt rose up and I caught a flash of her neat little tuft of red hair - she was not wearing any underwear! She smiled when she noticed me noticing and flashed an eyebrow in my direction but she handed me her glass and casually pulled the t-shirt off, over her head. Then she slipped naturally into something like her practised submissive pose though she did allow me to return her glass.

And, for a while, by the flickering firelight, we silently appreciated each other's company... and the brandy. I allowed that perfect spectacle to drive the other, far less pleasant images from my mind.

When we were finished, I gave her a hand to rise then pulled her onto my lap. I held her for a while then said, "I have something special in mind for tonight... something rather extreme. I fancy you might enjoy it."

She didn't answer but her eyes seemed to shine in the firelight.

So I scooped her up and carried her along to my room of reflection.

It took me a couple of minutes to find what I was looking for - a specially shaped piece of toughened material - soft but stiff - about as large as the pixie.

I attached the top half of it to the bed of the vaulting horse. Then I secured her wrists and ankles to built-in shackles and tightened a broad, elasticated belt around her waist. Her eyes widened slightly and she was even thinking of asking what was going on but I solved those problems for her with a blindfold and gag.

Then I folded the thing in half, like a clam shell, securing it with a couple of clips. Inside it, my little pixie was bent almost double with her legs splayed apart and her feet up by her ears - this device of exquisite torture can only be used for the most flexible of victims. The upper end was slightly open so that it was not excessively claustrophobic but, otherwise, there was only one small opening in the shell - one strategically positioned small opening.