“Feel good?”
Comfort is important for long term bondage, except when we desire to have the masochist stressed or tormented. Other than the jaw and chin prongs, which will be applied under my auspices, I want the restraint to feel ponderous... endlessly ponderous... not physically painful... but mentally excruciating.
Sandy nods. Such a good girl to be so warmly cooperative in her sexual enslavement.
I next place the front segment atop, aligning with the back. The top of the shoulders are covered, the flesh of the neck entirely disappears from view, and the chin and jaw rest on a black iron pedestal, forcing Sandy to lie in a head up position.
Excellent.
“Don’t move,” I command as I stoke the coals to bring the rivets to glow in red hotness.
As stated the adjoining lips atop the shoulders have many holes, eight on each side. Into these I will slip a hot rivet then pound with fervor to flatten what is termed the ‘buck head’. The process is known as ‘bucking’ and when completed the two segments will be almost permanently joined... not to be removed except by extensive time consuming grinding or drilling, or perhaps cutting with an acetylene torch. Whatever, the anguish of removal, should it ever be attempted, will greatly exceed that of the implementation.
I step to the kitchen for a bowl of ice. I will work to buck quickly, but there will be some unavoidable heat transference. But nothing Sandy has not encountered many times in Daddy’s barn.
In returning, I find the rivets ready and Sandy in tears.
“Why?” the voice woeful.
“Why do I do this... or why do you secretly find such enjoyment?”
Oddly, she has yet to fully understand. And now is not the time to lecture.
Tongs in my left hand, I remove the first rivet and slip beneath and into the far opening at the left shoulder, the buck head pushing through above. I press down against the flat surface of the anvil. Hammer in my right hand, I swing... with vigor... again... again. The metallic clamor is both strident and symbolic. Sandy’s bonds are wonderfully gothic and industrial. It would disappoint to bind her without noise and the application of great force.
Sandy winces. The searing hotness has transferred to heat the iron plating. I apply ice.
Alleviating Sandy’s pain slows the process. But I want her thoughts focusing on the application, the long term aspects of my imposing binding... not the immediate slight burn.
So we rest. There are many more rivets but I have much time... and abundant coal.
***
Tears have flowed, the coals have smoldered, my hammer has clamored, and finally the last of sixteen rivets is bucked in place, permanently joining together thirty or more pounds of physically constraining, mentally addling iron.
The last of the ice is applied. I arise, sanguine with my manly efforts. There can be no better method to permanently place a girl in bondage. Sweat, muscle and brawn – Daddy’s winter in the barn must have been most fulfilling.
“Done... for now. There are some trinkets to be added. And I think it’s about time to encumber the motion of your arms... don’t you, Sandy?”
Sandy struggles to sit up, her abdominal muscles straining. Finally, I release her iron mittens and she more rolls to her knees than rises. My new addition is deliciously heavy.
“No, Dr. Winthrop, please don’t do that.”
My design proves perfect. The chin rests on a pedestal of iron, entrapping her head, the range of motion frustratingly limited. Plus the sheer weight brings more ungainly motion. And our gathering of sodomites will be pleased... on all fours, the mouth is perfectly positioned for oral servitude, though Louise might find the head motion required for long labial laps of the tongue to be somewhat inhibited.
Bummer, Louise, I think with a smile.
Time to test the chin and jaw prongs.
“Come Sandy,” gesturing for Sandy to crawl to a waiting chair where I will sit.
Drilled into the pedestal supporting the chin are five holes which I tapped. Fitting into the aperture I have the many bullet shaped prongs, threaded to screw in place. I sit and draw Sandy’s handsome mocha face to my lap, the lower portion framed at the jaw in black iron.
“Hold still. Be a good girl.”
I begin with the lenient set. Pushing into the bottom, the business end protrudes upwards to abrade the chin. As I turn to thread it further it rises to press into the flesh.
Yes, excellent. She senses the added restriction, quickly realizing that a quick turn of the head will scratch. Such also forces the head even higher. Two to the right, two to the left join the one under the chin. When finished I loop a finger through her nose and tug left then right. Sandra must twist her entire upper torso to avoid the pain of stressing the deep nostril piercing. She cannot turn at the neck!
“Those are the shortest and dullest prongs, Sandy, intended to merely enhance the immobility. There are others, longer and sharper which will be used to punish you. So you need to be obedient... though girls like you so much enjoy punishment...”
Sandy tries to nod in understanding and hurts herself. So delicious!
It’s now time to assure her face and throat are aligned for proper fellatio and deep throating. Little Mr. Haig has been patient. Swelled and pressed against my zipper, he can wait no more.
There are limits to my ability to forge and shape iron. I need a set of fine links, probably more akin to that found in a jewelry store, and to replicate such the tools I have assembled are inappropriate.
Not desiring anything ornate, preferring to have Sandy adorned with drabness, I visit Greenwich Village and shop a bit. All these avant garde styles of dress and music abet my need. And sure enough whereas fine chains found in Fifth Avenue stores are sure to be decorative, no listener of emo and punk rock would ever be seen in gold, silver or platinum. Yes, for them it’s the dreariness of rough crude iron or some other dull metal so on Prince Street I found a shop selling by the foot what I need. Ostensibly to festoon the body and send some message, to symbolize a captured soul, I purchase several feet. The loops are small but strong, I presume acquired from the fabricator of legitimate restraints for law enforcement.
No Sandy, we’re not done yet.
Chapter Six
With the superior internet connection of Parker Lyle & Co., I find it convenient to perform all searches, business and otherwise, at my office. So I log on, but first stealthily click to our secret internet site, knowing that our Nurse Ratchet is in attendance. For some reason observing Louise ply her craft can be a curious combination of soothing and amusing. Soothing in that Sandy receives the attentive care of a toddler... amusing in that the level of embarrassment... to have to endure such before cameras and untold viewers... is unequaled.
For example, as Sandy kneels on all fours in the tiled area, plumbing and floor drainage for daily ablutions, Louise verbally examines as well as physically. It seems the subject of cramps arises, premenstrual, and though offering much chagrin, a girl cannot avoid the inevitable. Sandy divulges it is her time of the month.
Leashed and on all fours, the daily bath and enemas completed, Louise has Sandy turn to assure her large and rounded globes face the camera. I change the zoom and filling my screen comes the freshly shaven pudendum, cunny ring in place, the spiked cunny cone serving to keep muscled thighs nicely parted and the heavy cunny chain serving to remind Sandy of her permanent bondage.
A gloved left hand grasps the chain and positions the ring, clearing a partial opening to the vagina. The gloved fingers of the right hand, well lubricated, begin to work.
No forceps as with ‘Mike the Masturbator’, Louise will extract my tantalizing tube and heavy rolling ball in a more personal manner, not quite fisting poor Sandy but upon completion offering quite the level of penetration and manipulation.
So I watch Sandy squirm, listen to her moan, and enjoy as a girl must spread well bound and offer intimate access, the flow of menses not to be impeded.
Though only for a da
y or two, I must wonder if my devious little insertion will be missed. Finally, Louise finds, grips and slowly retracts, the source of moans not determinable... discomfort or pleasure? The three inch long tube pops into sight, glistening with vaginal juices and a mischievous Louise pauses to hold it in plain view, making our shy ‘internet-only’ members well aware of the constant source of incomplete delight which Sandy’s otherwise neglected love passage must endure.
Held in permanent chastity, I further wonder if a penis has ever entered there.
Sandy’s time of the month, essential knowledge for members who choose to avoid sloppiness, depending on their preference, is then graphically announced for all as Louise encircles the right thigh and left with strips of bright white absorbent cloth. Yes, whatever her flow, it is to be fully disclosed, shown to our audience of libertines and deviants to forewarn, and for some the display may serve to amuse as well.
No need for feminine sanitary products for a girl kept constantly nude.
Yet my attention has been diverted. I click away moving to Google, leaving Louise to continue the daunting humiliation. I then begin the intended internet search...
Suppose I need to buy a horse... yes, in Colorado. I believe a man by the name of Devon may breed the desired equine. Everyone markets and sells on the internet these days... and with such efforts come a manner of making contact... an email address.
***
As stated, with the energy level of our assembled group, my evening interaction with Sandy has become limited, observing by internet. Live contact is relegated to Saturday and Sunday afternoons, the group settling into regularly scheduled visits with the coffers for Sandy’s care... rent, food and... well not clothing but I suppose adornments... growing steadily.
So it is not until Saturday that I can visit the loft and introduce Sandy to the trinkets purchased in Greenwich Village.
Upon entry I again turn off the cameras and find Sandy obediently lying tummy down, so meekly awaiting the anal sodomy she has come to relish.
“How is your neck restraint, Sandy?” I inquire, stepping to the coal oven and firing it up.
“Oh, Dr. Winthrop, it’s so heavy... and tight. I cannot move my head at all.”
Her words warm my heart... well Mr. Haig’s heart.
“That is good for you. You better feel the bondage. It augments the mental submission. Every time you try to look at something you are reminded... that you are owned... that you are to be obedient... that you are to please others and not yourself.... that you are open and vulnerable. It all makes you feel better, deep within...”
My words spoken as I move to her stall and retract the many feet of purchased chain.
“Do you not feel better fulfilled... that you have purpose?”
I do not mention that such purpose is to be a repository for sperm and a masochistic pin cushion.
“I think you can better feel the controlling hand of another though, Sandy. I am going to rearrange your bonds. Would you like that?”
“You’ll make everything lighter and permit more motion?”
The beseeching words prompt a wicked laugh.
“Of course not, Sandy. It would not be right for a girl of your ilk... free to move about... not feeling the many pounds adorned for your benefactor.”
I leash her nose ring as I speak. Mr. Haig must be assuaged. After all, a controlling hand brings comfort to both of us, and Sandy knows to instantly follow my directing tugs. With the restrictive neck and shoulder addition, her entire upper torso must turn and twist to relieve tension on the leash. Quite entertaining to observe.
To the anvil, it is unfortunate that I must modify Daddy’s original bondage configuration. But I think he would approve.
So I tie off Sandy’s leash, knowing that when she sees me heating the large curved needle there will come resistance... futile... best described as meek... but having had her flesh so often opened by Daddy’s red hot shards, there comes an uncontrollable somatic response.
“Please no, Dr. Winthrop!” pleading as I heat the needle. “I thought you would help me!”
“But I am. Just a little pain and you will soon be even better bound. Think of it. Think how much better you’ll be able to please in not being able to move other than to shuffle about and properly spread for anal penetration.”
My words seem to mollify. How Curious!
Fortunately, not only is the warehouse devoid of tenants, but on weekends the adjoining streets devoid of people as well.
Yes, with no one to hear, Sandy screamed deliciously when I so callously thrust the large piercing needle through the inside of her arm above the right elbow. She was quiet for the left arm, having fainted as she did with Daddy’s many searing assaults.
Still the painful segment of the task is dutifully complete... mostly. As a semi conscious Sandy lies, temporary posts inserted in the new openings within the thin epidermis of the inside of her elbows, I hammer and forge the thick iron rings which she will forever bear there. Yes, more weight, more restriction of motion, Sandy will be denied use of her arms. Such alteration will make her hand coverings unnecessary, but I’ll leave such in place, the weight and the inability to visually confirm moving fingers augmenting the sense of subjugation she needs... she covets.
Initial task completed, Sandy will need to bear just a little more heat and agony. I will insert the heated open rings through the piercings and hammer with alacrity to close. Such must be hot to be malleable, yet I will work fast then apply ice. As with Daddy’s ankle and buttock piercings, when I pressed through the needle, I snagged what is termed the anterior bundle, hooking arm ligaments right side and left. So as with ankles and buttocks, Sandy will bring herself suffering with any untoward sudden movement of her arms, the stressed ligaments bringing muscle spasms.
Mr. Haig, you are a devil.
Next, all pain and deeds of acute discomfort completed, it comes time to imbue the long term more subtle, mentally wearing bondage.
First, I unfortunately must open a link in the continuous breast chain, looped around the neck from right breast spike to left. Both bizarre yet innovative, offering such a wonderful presentation of the mammary glands, with the new neck and shoulder restraint many links of the breast chain are entrapped beneath, curtailing the diddling of those firm glands, the rippling which my male cohorts find so titillating.
I press the neck restraint, pushing upwards and fingers work under my recently forged iron plating to find the slim chain. I tug to bring into view a middle link. Straining to position a semi comatose Sandy, I manage to place the targeted link over the point of the anvil. With a huge tungsten steel chisel, well honed, and many blows of a heavy hammer, I am able to crack open the one link to bifurcate the chain.
Since design is my forte, the new neck and shoulder restraint has openings in the riveted flanges which will accommodate the chains. So I thread the two ends of the now broken chain through the openings, right and left over the shoulder and then pull Sandy’s iron mittens up behind her back to hook such to the breast chains.
Whereas before, the mittens could only be attached and tension the one chain, simultaneously stressing both spikes... and breasts... now the right mitten can individually tug at the right breast...and of course left tug at the left.
A tidy presentation for now, I will later make the connections permanent... heating, forging and then closing the two open hooks at the ends of the mittens... that which have afforded Sandy the ability to clumsily grasp things and pop open cans.
Yes, she will not even have use of her encapsulated hands. As stated... mentally wearing bondage.
Now to complete this afternoon’s ensemble... newly implanted elbows rings to the buttock rings... two short lengths of my Greenwich Village emo/punk rock chain are required. For now I will temporarily connect right buttock ring to right elbow, left to left, and evaluate. I want the tension to be felt... to have the chain trigger the contraction of the glutei as always but now also trigger the muscling of the ar
ms... if and when Sandy too quickly tries to move... or too forcefully. With proper tautness, contraction and cramping of the arm and buttock muscles will in turn jostle the two breast chains, bringing delightfully licentious, self induced jiggling of those sprightly glands.
You are a wicked one, Mr. Haig! You’ve attached, in effect, Sandy’s buttocks to her breasts. After careful evaluation and adjustment, each of Sandy’s slight arm movements will either stress the buttocks or her breasts. Yes, Mr. Haig is so demented. And with the cunny chain in place, she will sense the bondage she relishes within every anatomical area of sensuousness. Motion, what little permitted, will translate to robust sexual awakening.
***
Cocktail in hand, I sit with a snifter of Cognac observing Sandy as she shuffles about the loft.
Earlier, two of our more sexually liberated members... that means wildly libidinous as one can imagine... simultaneously took Sandy, front and back.
Bisexual and dominant, I do believe they get as much stimulus from watching each other as from sodomizing Sandy’s two available apertures. Butt fucked and face fucked, to use crass terms, Sandy took both young studs, bodies completely depilated, and I can only imagine the wild oscillations of her vaginal insertion, the heavy ball rolling about like a drunken sailor on heavy seas.
The site monitor for the internet broadcast indicated some twenty three eyeballs watched the show... possibly more if a group setting turned to our Saturday night exhibition. Yes, Fric and Frac, as the two studly young libertines are known in the community, are renowned... and well hung. Live audiences at the New York clubs are known to wager on how soon and on which appendage a fellatrix will first come to gag.
Always a fun bet, Fric and Frac alternate, methodically withdrawing then circling to swap from anal to oral and back, their precision timing like watching the Bolshoi of sodomy.
So it is late and just as I study ambulation, I want to assure the tension on Sandy’s new chain brings adequate discomfort. She must always feel restrained, her suffering moderate but constant. Mentally she needs to feel controlled at all times. The sense of ownership brings comfort to a girl of Sandy’s ilk.
Dr. Winthrop Samuels Series Page 28