An Order of Pizza

An Order of Pizza

Donny this is for you.


I couldn’t believe this was about to happen; truly, I almost couldn’t believe it. But here I was at the very literal threshold about to discover the truth, a truth for which I wasn’t sure I was ready. In a few moments I would know. I’d been told it was an experience never to be forgotten.

But this wasn’t just about knowing, this was about something else. What this would end up being, I wasn’t sure; again, I was about to find out. Emotion flowed through me, churned like an ocean in a tempest. Nothing around me was stable, there was nothing firm upon which to grasp. I was lost in my feelings and I feared they would betray my intentions. I was excited nearly to the point of shaking. I forced myself to calm.

My right hand hovered in front of the doorbell button. I wasn’t hesitating, no, I had already pressed it. It was far too late for hesitation. My fate would soon be sealed. In my left hand I balanced a pizza delivery bag. I didn’t give a damn about the pizza, I only wanted to see the person who ordered it. Apparently, no one gave a damn about the pizza, or that’s what I’d heard. This had nothing to do with pizza, but then, what was this about? Soon I would, too, for I could hear the sound of footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. I heard the latch bolt turn, click, slide back, then the door swung open.

A woman greeted me, “Oh, is that for me?” Her voice was sweet and innocent. Her posture, her attire, was not. This was the woman I’d heard so much about. She wasn’t far off from the description, but then again, now that I was standing here, looking at her, she was also an entirely different species.

“Sure thing, babe.” I spoke, then stopped, catching myself all too late. The pizza bag floated silently on my hand, halfway to hers. We both stopped for a split second, but I caught a look in her eye that told me she didn’t mind the rather unprofessional phrasing. I backpedaled a little. At the last fraction of a second, I managed to turn it into a bit of a joke. “I mean, yes… uh, miss.” Even with the switch to ‘miss’ I could tell she hadn’t lost interest. No, her eyes told me she was even more interested. I was sure she’d been interested since before she’d even opened the door. I didn’t arrogantly think that highly of myself, this was probably just her thing, pizza boys, repairmen, whatever. Still, I struggled not to botch this, knowing I’d only get one chance.

I wasn’t sure if ‘miss’ was the right term, but again, it seemed to work fine. She wasn’t old to the point that I’d call her old. She wasn’t young anymore; too old to be called young, at least, Even I had to admit that she held it together well; no, she did more than that—that didn’t give her credit—she looked good. If she was my type, I’d be losing my mind at each minuscule advance. Nothing fake or overdone about her appearance, except maybe her eyes—but what did I know? Heavy makeup never did anything for me, but she couldn’t know that. Still, I had to admire the effort, even if it wasn’t my thing. Those damn eyes were poking holes in me. I guess she caught me looking her up and down, because we both seemed to raise our eyes to each other’s at the same time. I was sure she’d been checking me out too. Could she tell I was looking at her in a different way than she was to me?

She took the pizza from me. And—was that a batting of the eyes? “You can call me babe… but I get to call you babe too, babe.”

I took a solid step forward, my foot landing on the threshold. She didn’t step back, but held my gaze warmly. Well played.

“How good are you with your hands?” She began to turn away bodily, casting back a sly look toward me. “I’ve got something downstairs. It’s all wet and messy, and I could really use a hand with it.”

I hesitated as she started to walk away. We both knew this house had no basement.

“So, babe, you wanna come or not?” She turned back as she moved away, an eye looking back, winking, then turning to dismiss me from existence.

Again, if she was my type, I’d be all over her. Even as she wasn’t, she still managed to have an effect. I smiled widely as I stepped into the house. But not for the reason she thought I did. Still, hesitation pricked me as I advanced; I pushed the feeling aside. Was this even for the reason I thought it was?


This inside of her house was as nice as the exterior. It wasn’t cluttered, but there were enough items around that I could have spent a good hour or more just admiring each and every one. Each little trinket or feature added a little character to the place, and the sum of their effect was very appealing. A friendly-looking cat walked across my path and disappeared into another room. I wanted to reach down a pet it, but I had more important things to attend to.

So I followed her, ignoring the rest of the house. The short journey lead me to the kitchen where I found her setting the pizza box on the counter. She spun as I approached, stepping forward as I neared. I smiled, putting on my best charms. Hers were better.

A finger traced down the front of my shirt. “I think we both know this was never about the pizza.” Her hand ventured further down, stopping below my belt.

I was worried that she might find my lack of response to her touch a deal-breaker. I tried to think of something to get the same effect but it didn’t work. I thought of the person I loved, tried to imagine them with me, but there was too much turmoil in my mind for me to concentrate on that memory, on anything except the immediate.

“Oh,” she had discovered my hesitation. “A shy little thing, are we? Maybe you need a little prodding to get you headed in the right direction. What do you think, babe?”

She leaned in and kissed me. At the same time, I felt something cold lock tightly around my wrist. Before I could react, the same thing locked my other wrist. Hands behind my back, I was in handcuffs. Goddamn. She was quick. If I’d been any level of comfortable before, I was no longer.

“How about this?” A blade out of nowhere pressed against my neck. “You think this is enough to get you moving.”

I nodded cautiously. I didn’t want that blade any closer than it was.

“Well, go on then, babe. Let’s get you where you need to be.” The knife directed my throat down the hall and into a room. In the room was some kind of bench. There other furnishings, but things were moving too fast for me to take in. I was quickly fastened to this fixture, then I heard the test of large scissors. I prayed to God to save me, but I knew he wanted nothing to do with this. I felt cold steel against my skin as my pants were quickly being reduced to little more than scraps of fabric.

“What have we here?” I don’t know if her voice was meant to taunt or torture, encourage or enrage, but it didn’t sit well with me.



This is for you.

I’m doing this for you.

I’m doing this because because I have to.


For a time, for far too long a time, this room was filled with the sounds of more fabric being cut. I could feel my pants quickly disappear. Cool air against my skin. I waited, prayed for a miracle. Prayed that I’d not been foolish in placing my trust, again. Each small volume of air was another nail in the coffin of my trust. It was quickly becoming buried under helpless futility and hopelessness. I’d been a fool to believe what I’d been told. And now I found myself at the mercy of this strange, evil woman. If only she had mercy.

Then it came. A chuckle, the full nature of which I could not fathom. It was directed toward my manhood, which had all but crawled up inside me at the horror of what was happening. I didn’t like the tone of her laugh.

“Oh, it seems our once confident man is looking a lot less like a man. Don’t worry little one, I have a warm, soft, appropriate place for you.”

A finger lightly flicked my cock, sending it limply flopping to one side. There was nothing nothing I could do. I was splayed out, legs and arms fastened in all directions; the logistics of which still had yet to catch up to me.

There was the knife again, and again, that voice, sickly sweet with malice and intent. “Lift your bottom.”

I didn’t hesitate to comply. I was now sure that I’d made a horrible mistake. Again. All that I’d ever believed in was crumbling around me. At the same time, there was a crinkling of plastic, loud, notably so. I saw her working quickly, but I could not see upon what she was working. I was soon educated.

A diaper. It had been more than a quarter of a century since I’d felt a diaper against my skin. In that time, I’d all but forgotten the feeling. Soft padding, a texture gentle to the touch, yet still firm. Fat, bulky, restricting, damning; I felt this soft texture beneath me as I was bid to lower upon it. It was like a cushion. Hardly had I landed then I felt the whole thing pulled tightly up and over my groin. Tight, yet flexible plastic cuffs were pulled along with, between my legs, securing my entire crotch within its grasp. The rip of tapes, the crinkle of plastic, the cackle of a mad woman. I was now wearing a diaper.

“There there, baby, that’s much better.” I heard her voice, but only looked for the knife. I couldn’t see it from my position.

Fearing ultimate betrayal, I strained against the bonds. All my strength, all my weeks at the gym, I poured into this one task. The woman retreated a few feet. I heard wood creaking, felt bonds tightening, but no sudden release. My strength was not enough. I gave it all I had, but it remained inadequate. The recoil of the woman was replaced with glee, self-satisfaction. She was pleased that this contraption had contained me. I strained again, screamed in my efforts, but failed. I could not escape, I was now her prisoner.

Her smirk made my blood boil, I strained again. What color of red I must have turned, I’ll never know. Apparently, all it did was amuse her. She smiled. Wicked. Evil. Then produced a bottle containing some oddly colored liquid. It inched toward my mouth. The knife inched toward my diapered crotch.

Then I heard it, faintly, the sound of footsteps. She didn’t, the bitch. Those footsteps would be my savior, and her damnation.

“Hey, bitch!” Donny’s voice called out, hate and raw anger tinted his sweet vocals a shade of evil I never thought possible.

The woman jerked backward. A fist against the side of her head sent her to my left, but a fistful of hair wrenched her back upright, then in the opposite direction. There was screaming, a brief struggle, then she was bound just like me. My heart was racing.

As soon as my bonds were released, Donny pulled me to my feet and dragged me into a warm embrace. A numbness had engulfed me, and I barely felt his body against mine. There was no longer the warmth that I’d once found so comforting. I wanted to cry about what had happened; I wanted to cry about what was going to happen, but I couldn’t. I didn’t even feel like crying. Perhaps that was for the better.



Goddammit. Why did it have to end up like this?

I loved you.


“You!” The woman spat.

“Yeah, me, bitch!” Donny spat back. Our embrace broken, he turned to the woman. “Fuck you, I’m back. And you’re gonna wish you never fucked with me.”

The woman struggled, screamed. Fruitless efforts against her bonds. The screaming stopped with Donny’s backhand. I examined the room, saw a device. I pointed, grunted. Donny heard, saw, understood. I just leaned against the wall, pretending I was tired. I didn’t even bother taking off the diaper.

Donny released the woman from her bonds, but then dragged her across the room by her neck. There was a seat with a harness, straps, the whole bondage works. He very nearly threw her into it. A stream of obscenities from the both of them played the accompaniment as he strapped her into the strange contraption of unknown design. He couldn’t get the wrist straps to work so he just tied her wrists with rope. The rope, of course, was laying nearby. At this point, I didn’t even have to question what went on in this room.

I walked over and joined them once she was restrained. Inspecting the chair more closely, I found that the wrist straps were electronically locked, with wires running up and connected to a float switch in the base of a large tank. The tank fed a tube which fed a dildo which was positioned near the head of the chair. I reached into the tank and lifted to switch. I heard a click. I reached down and tested the wrist straps, finding them now locked. I understood.

Donny was still furious, I could see it in his face. Anyone could, really. He was far more red than normal, and veins were beginning to show. Unlike me, he was never good at hiding his emotions. I loved that part of him, even if it would betray him, just as he had me. “Where’s that nasty shit?” He yelled. I reached out to calm him. Quiet him, lest the neighbors hear. He understood, lowering his voice. “Where’s that shit you gave me last time? The stuff that made me shit myself? Where is it, bitch? You old hag!”

The woman didn’t answer. There was a cold calculation upon her face, as if she still thought she might escape. I cut in, leaning close to her while pushing him away. “He’s just pissed off. Tell him what he wants and we’ll let you be.”

She didn’t say a word. Proud to the end it seemed.

“Fuck this, I’ll find it myself.” Donny stormed off toward the kitchen. I let him go.

I looked around the room, there wasn’t much. The seat in which the woman was fastened, the bench upon which I was bound just minutes before. There was a large cabinet in the far corner of the room. Inside were… supplies. At this point, there was little need to pass judgment on the woman and her use for these items. I inspected each one carefully, calculated, plotted, then decided. A ball gag. She began with a stream of protests as I approached, but gave up when her words turned to mumbled nothings. I went over to the bench where I’d been bound. Carefully, I set the handcuffs and other bonds in ready, welcoming positions. I turned and locked eyes with the woman. The question in her eyes was only met with the one in mine. What would happen next?

“You know him.” My head gestured out of the room, where Donny had gone.

She nodded.

“You seduced him.”

She nodded.

“Was he easy?”

Hesitation. Then, she nodded.

My eyes lingered, holding onto the moment of silence, knowing it would be the last one for a while. Final words are supposed to be special. Whatever. I waited, took a breath, then called. “Hey, come here!”


It took me days to get it out of you.

I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t know what it was.

You came home and tried to pretend like nothing had happened, like it was just another day at work. But I knew; I knew right away. You could never hide something like that from me. We both knew that. And the fact that you tried told me more than just telling me.

I hugged you and held you, but you felt distant, a million miles away. You said you were just feeling down, but I know you better than that. And you know I know you better than that, so you should’ve known that trying to hide it was pointless. You knew better, but you still tried to hide it; that’s how I knew it was serious.

I hugged you and held you when you said it was the same as rape. I couldn’t believe something so horrible could happen to my Donny. But when you told me how it happened, that’s when I lied.


I waited agonizing seconds. Steeling myself, praying I wouldn’t cave to mercy, to forgiveness. Praying my love for him wouldn’t overcome my better judgment. Donny entered the room, not expecting me to be against the wall on his left. By the time he saw me; by the time he even suspected anything, it was far too late.

I had him in cuffs, over the bench just like I had been. Surprise, joking, then curses poured from his mouth as he realized I was serious. A ball gag silenced his words. I tried, but couldn’t prevent a tear from rolling down my cheek. I made sure to wipe it before it dripped. Emotion flared. The warm, soft texture of his skin begged me to forgive. I did not. My heart stung with pain, but I continued working. I pushed my feelings and memories away, all except why I was here and I what I was going to do. Donny was strong physically, stronger than I by far. Surprise was the only reason I had overpowered him, I worked to make certain he couldn’t break free. The straps on the bench were well beyond his strength, but I doubled them nonetheless. He could thrash until he passed out, but there was no way he was escaping. I stood up.

From the cabinet I retrieved rubber cleaning gloves. With them on I was now free to work without leaving a trace. I took Donny’s phone, then the woman’s, and turned them both off. Next, I worked off Donny’s shoes, then his pants. He kicked and struggled but couldn’t break free. I quickly pulled the pants on over my diaper, I’d dispose of that later. I kept moving, didn’t stop. If I stopped I might relent. For a moment, I thought about just leaving, but I didn’t; I couldn’t, not without… just a little something more. I went back to the cabinet.

There were feeder gags. I didn’t question why there was more than one of anything in here, it suited my purposes and that was enough. I also grabbed a bottle with a very medical looking label, lots of warnings. If there was something to make someone have a bowel movement in short order, this was it. The bottle, a gag, and a funnel with a tube. I went over to the woman and swapped her ball gag for a feeder gag.

“—PLEASE! I’ll—”

Didn’t wait to hear what protests she would make. I slipped the tube in place and poured a good amount of the bottle into the funnel. I had the thought that the stuff was probably supposed to be mixed, or given only in small quantities. I also didn’t care. The woman, it seemed, knew what was happening. She didn’t drink at all; well, until I pinched her nose. When the fluid was gone from the funnel, I let her indulge in the follow-up fit of coughing and gasping through her gag. She didn’t vomit; good enough. Before moving on, I flipped up her skirt. A diaper; a little wet. Well, she was prepared at least. Good for her. I put the plug back in the gag.

I went over to Donny. “You want a diaper first?”

He shook his head violently, then renewed his thrashing.

“Suit yourself.”

I replaced his gag with a feeder gag.


Silence again. Well, relatively speaking; no actual words at least. The closest thing to words came as throaty, numbed nonsense through the hole in the feeder gag. I could almost make out what he was trying to say. The rest of the bottle’s contents silenced that noise. When the funnel and tube were empty, I removed them and plugged the gag.

I felt anger, momentary rage. The intense desire to beat them both unconscious nearly overcame me. But I stopped, took a breath, then proceeded. I was an emotional wreck it seemed, but I had to reel it in. Violence wouldn’t create the narrative I intended. I returned to the cabinet. Also in it was epsom salt, I knew about that stuff. In the kitchen I filled up a jug with around two liters of water, then I just kept adding large spoonfuls of epsom salt. I didn’t read the label, didn’t bother with the recommended dosage. Whatever I thought it was, I doubled it, factored it into the volume of water I had, doubled it, doubled it, then doubled it again.

Back in the other room, I poured most of the mixture into the tank which fed the tube to the dildo. I also took a small spoon a jammed the float switch in the up position. I replaced the hasty bonds at the woman’s wrists with the straps built into the arms of the seat. Moving the dildo in place, I removed her gag—tears were coming down her face now—then forced the phallus into her mouth. A few thick rubber bands kept it there.

“Drink up.”

I checked under her skirt. She must have shit herself while I was in the kitchen.

Donny hadn’t. But he was struggling. Back to that cabinet; I found an enema bag and a stand. I poured the rest of the mixture in the bag, then attached the tube to Donny’s feeder gag. My hand rested on his cheek, almost a moment too long.


I’m sorry, Donny.

I’m sorry I lied.

I know the one thing we promised each other was that we would never lie. Even though you lied first, that doesn’t make mine justified. I know that, and if there were another way

You betrayed me. You betrayed us. When you tried to sleep with that woman, you stabbed me in the back. Worse, you told me about it, as if you were the victim.

I was.

What she did to you, the state she left you in. Yeah, it all sounded horrible. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.

And yet, in all of that, never once did you apologize for betraying me. I wonder if you even realized.

Whether you know it or not, this one’s for you, Donny.

This is revenge; this is goodbye.


I pulled away, forced my eyes to break contact with his. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a few disinfectant wipes. Somehow, everything was clear in my mind. I carefully wiped down each and every location I could possibly have touched. The rubber gloves still on my hands meant I would leave no further traces. I retrieved my shredded pants and underwear, transferred my phone, wallet and keys into the pants I’d stolen from Donny; I left his effects with him.

Lastly, I went through the entire house, turning off each and every light. I stopped in the kitchen. There was the pizza, sitting right where she’d set it. I took a slice.

I knew I shouldn’t but I did anyway—I’d done a lot of that lately—I went back to the room where the two unfortunate people were bound. This room had no windows; I left the light on. I lingered, took one long, last look at Donny and the woman. I didn’t give a damn if the image haunted me. I didn’t figure I’d get away with this anyway. Too hasty, too rushed; I wasn’t the type for careful planning and intricate details in the first place. My burning desire for revenge was still hot, not good for being careful.

I took a bite of the pizza, it was cold. No good. Pizza was a dish best served hot. I thought about getting some nice fresh pizza… to celebrate.


I took a bite of the steaming hot pizza. I’d ordered like a dozen toppings, double crust with a layer of herbs and cream cheese in between. This whole pizza, all to myself, delivered promptly by a middle-eastern kid. What luxury. I guess I was celebrating again, another day without Donny, the woman, or the police knocking at my door, dragging me away, demanding I explain my actions. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted that or not, maybe I did—the pizza, that is, or not; I didn’t know. I did know I’d been celebrating a lot recently.

Then there was a blurb on the TV, local news. Something about a good time gone wrong. Two lovers found dead, kinky mishap, nasty scene, some now orphaned cats. They didn’t mention names, but the confused owner of the involved pizza parlor confirmed it. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. I waited for a feeling to overwhelm me, but none came.

I raised a slice of pizza as if it were a glass in toast.

Donny, this is for you.

But it wasn’t, was it? I knew better. It was for me, all of it. I hadn’t earned it and I couldn’t care any less. It was for me. It had all been a rampage of self-indulgence. Morals had gone out the window and I wasn’t sure if they’d ever return. I’d been waiting for something to catch up with me, remorse, bitterness, the police. Nothing. All I had now was pizza. Pizza, and the urge to lose myself in an exploration of my most selfish desires.

What decadence. I looked down at my pizza and chuckled. A fitting name: Double Decadence.

This story might make more sense if you read Decadent and Decadent Deux.
Both are written by BabyAnna. (you should also check out her other works)

I hope she doesn’t mind. :slight_smile:

A crime of passion and pizza! Dark and gritty with a side of pepperoni. Well written. It’s the little touches that help bring the characters’ emotions out. Lines such as, “[LEFT]The warm, soft texture of his skin begged me to forgive.” [/LEFT]