The device around her head held it immobile and no side turning or up and down movement was possible. Inside each nostril was some sort of plug that allowed her to breathe more efficiently. She felt like each nostril was stretched so that the airflow would be greater.
“Ah, Ms. Gregory, you’re awake. How nice,” the voice said quietly in her head. There were tiny ear buds, like those you get with personal cassette players, in her sealed ears and the voice came through as though it originated in her head. As she strained to hear, she could make out the very faint hiss of the carrier wave and she jerked involuntarily in her suspension as the voice continued. “You look wonderful, hanging there in your new leather outfit, Marsha. How does it feel? How’s your tight little asshole like its new tenant? Bet it feels like that prong’s ten inches long and three inches wide, right? Well, it’s not. It’s only a six-incher and the diameter’s only one little inch. We’ll get you a bigger one later.”
“And how about your cunt? Do you like the new guest we stuck in there as well? Pretty exciting, isn’t it. Let’s see now, the dimensions on that one are eight by two point five inches. The head’s a bit wider, so it was a real bitch to fit in there, even with you snoozing away the day.”
Marsha moaned, trying to tell the voice that she was hurting, that she wanted those things taken out, that she wanted her arms and legs free.
“Don’t bother trying to talk to us, there’ll be lots of that later on. Right now, I want you to see just how you look, so you’ll remember this moment as the first in your training series...sort of a chapter one.”
The voice stopped, and Marsha felt someone touching the leather outside of her headgear. The band around her eyes loosened and the covering over her eyes was suddenly removed. She squeezed her eyes shut as the light assaulted them. The light hurt, and it took her a few seconds to adjust. Then she was staring into a small color TV monitor that showed her a strange sight. It was her own body. She hung, as she had suspected, from a web of chains that reached up and out of the top of the picture, off the screen.
Chains were attached to her head, shoulders, feet and waist. She was encapsulated in a leather body suit that was obviously tighter than her own skin. In fact, the suit was a skin all by itself and every feature of her young form was clearly displayed through the thin, subtle leather.
Her view was directly from the right side. She saw how her breasts thrust out and strained against the thin leather, separated and squeezed by the crisscrossing straps. The nipples stood out in clear silhouette and her full breasts seemed more unbalanced than ever in the harsh lighting and outline. Marsha tried to thrash and succeeded only in making her body swing a few centimeters in its suspension. Her breasts swung despite their bondage and she felt their weight as they moved gently from side to side in their leather and chain confinement. Further movement was impossible because of the chains that held her to the floor as well as to the overhead. These lower chains attached to her waist, neck, each knee and the sides of the helmet.
“Good for you, Marsha, still a bit of a fight in you, huh?” the low, male voice said. “Guess we can tighten things up a bit now that you’re with us.”
She felt, and thought she heard as well, the chains begin to tighten slowly. They pulled her down towards the floor by the bands around her knees and up towards the ceiling by those attached to her arms, the top of the helmet and her shoulders, threatening to tear the straps and the leather body suit.
All motion stopped. Any possible movement by attempted trashing was now, if it hadn’t been before, totally impossible. Marsha could only blink her eyes and groan. Her keeper moved behind her, a black-suited figure in the TV screen, and closed the eye blindfold back over each eye. Darkness returned. Marsha whimpered into the huge gag and wondered anew what was happening to her.
The yellow designer telephone beeped and was answered before the second ring.
“Hello”.
“Donner?”
“Of course.”
“Has number two arrived yet?”
“No.”
“Call me at nine and check in. We’ll wait another day and then we must move. Do you think we got the wrong info?”
“No. She’ll be here. The information was correct.”
“Ok. Call at nine.”
“Right.”
The caller hung up first, and Willie Amos, also known as Donner, replaced the phone handset on its brilliant yellow acrylic base and went back to the paperback book he was reading.
Eight hours ago, Willie and his partner, Fran, began waiting in this same apartment for Marsha Gregory to return home from her job at the hospital. They surprised the 22-year-old aerobics instructor when she came into her bedroom, dropping her to the floor with a hard blow to the solar plexus, then gagging and tying her hands and feet before she could recover from the blow. They used light nylon cord, precut to useful four-foot lengths and heat-sealed at each end.
They bound the girl’s hands first, crossing the wrists behind her back, then pulling the elbows close together and binding them as well. Her ankles were also crossed, tightly tied and cinched, then the legs above and below the knees. Another long strand of rope went around the girl’s waist, was pulled tight and centered and knotted at the front of her stomach, then the long end was pulled between her legs and fastened to her bound wrists.
Marsha had been wearing blue jeans over her Lycra and spandex workout outfit and Willie and Fran hadn’t bothered with the clothes right then. They hog-tied the girl’s wrists and feet, then improved the gag and added a blindfold, before they gave her a premeasured injection of K4-12, a new and non-addictive sleep-inducing drug they had obtained as part of their working kit from Marquand. In less than a minute, Marsha Gregory fell quietly asleep. She stayed that way for about four hours, enough time for her captors to remove her from the apartment and take her to their training center in the heart of the city. From there, Dr. Gail took over, measuring, stripping, washing, depilitating and shampooing the inert figure before fitting her into the leather suspension harness and helmet.
Now Willie and Fran waited for Laura, Marsha’s blond, twenty two year old roommate, to return. The phone answering machine in the kitchen held a message from Laura, saying she’d be home late and to head for the slopes without her. “I’ll follow you up in the morning,” Laura said on the phone. “Have fun driving up there, but be careful. I can’t wait. We have this week all to ourselves. See you later.”
That was the source Willie had quoted on the phone. He thought it was pretty reliable and thus he settled back to wait for Laura to come home.
On the same couch, facing the other way, with her feet snuggled up under Willie, lay Fran, scanning this month’s Cosmos. Fran yawned.
“You think she might have changed her plans?” she asked.
“Nah, she’ll be here. She’s a real Georgia Peach. You’ll love her. Great tits.”
“Tits, tits, tits, that’s all you ever think about. Haven’t you ever taken any flat-chested women,” Fran said in faked disgust.
“Yeah, I did once, but Doctor Gail made me throw them back because they were undersized,” he chuckled.
“Would you still hang out with me if mine were smaller?”
“Nah. I’d get someone else with a set like yours.”
Laura had the kind of breasts most men loved. She loved them too. But right now, she was wishing she’d been born with less abundance in the chest area, for her breasts were in considerable discomfort and there was no immediate prospect of her being able to change this.
When and if she chose to wear a bra, Laura’s bust overflowed two D cups. Without the bra, her firm and full globes hung close to her ribcage, snuggling close together and looking to most observers like she had a bra on anyway. They were that good!
When she arched her back and bent forward, these round, fruit-like appendages swung away from her torso. The mass of solid breast tissue carried pendulum-like away from the less solid bases, giving the appearance of two fu
lsome white pears, the size of grapefruits, the narrow end close to the chest and the great base of the pear topped with light brown areolas and nipples that were as large as the end of her smallest finger. The blood engorged nipples extended a full quarter inch as they hardened.
Right now they were very, very hard. And so was the tanned, shiny, tightly stretched skin covering the tissue mass of each breast.
And they hurt. They hurt because Laura was wearing one of the doctor’s experimental chest harnesses and this one had been waiting for someone with a body like Laura’s to fall into the doctor’s clutches. It had been a long wait, but right now Doctor Steven Gail was glad he’d waited for Laura to “drop by”, courtesy of Fran and Donner, who had fetched her that same evening and brought the girl to Gail, trussed up and gagged, in an army duffel bag. They tied her like her friend, stuffed her into the bag, leaving her head outside, but locking the bag’s end shut around her neck. They gagged her with a single rolled Ace bandage and then used several more elastic bandages to enclose her head. The bandages were exceptionally tight and squeezed the girl’s small head from all sides. The pressure in her head was incredible. The bandage covered everything but her nose and the length of light brown hair that reached almost to her shoulder blades. Her hair was bound in another bandage and stuck out behind her like the tail on a pony being loaded in a trailer, headed for the horse show. Laura arrived at Gail’s lab in the early morning hours and underwent the same “admission” process that Marsha had experienced earlier. Both women were now enjoying Gail’s little known and specialized hospitality.
The root of each of Laura’s breasts was encircled with a heavy steel shackle, designed like a handcuff in that it had a one-way ratchet lock that allowed the size of the shackle to be reduced simply by squeezing the hinged circle closed. Dr. Gail first fitted Laura with the body harness, then attached the heavy shackles, one at a time, to the fleshy breast tissue closest to her chest.
The effect was most interesting for both doctor and patient. As the shackle closed tighter, the skin around the breasts tightened as well. The compression forced the breasts forward and outward, stretching the skin around each globe and creating a steel support base structure for each breast, pushing it away from the chest wall. At the same time, the nipples, stretched and pulled tight, hardened to a rock-like density.
Each shackle was one and a half inches wide and at their largest opening, they could enclose a wrist or ankle or breast with a three-inch diameter. Closed to the last position on the ratchet, the diameter of the hole was slightly more than one and a half inches. Unlike most handcuffs, the shackles could not be closed past the last position and opened again. For the subject/victim confined in these devices, this was a mixed blessing, because there was only so much tightening that could be done, then no more. But right now Laura Glenn was in grave fear that the Doctor would tighten the shackles yet another notch.
The circle around the base of each breast was about one and three quarters inches and Laura was sure that even one more notch would result in the skin tearing away from her breasts and the internal tissue popping out and rolling away across the cold, white, tile floor.
Laura couldn’t tell the doctor about this fear because her mouth was full. Very full. The good doctor had removed the elastic bandages and repacked Laura’s mouth with four fresh new panty liner pads, adhesive strips and all, then sealed her straining lips shut with one inch adhesive tape in a star-like pattern, then wrapped the tape around her lower face and behind her head. Her light blond hair had been taken out of the bandage wrapping and was now in a tight single braid at the top of her head, so the tape around her lower face and mouth was only partly in her hair.
But Laura wasn’t talking. What came through the mass of absorbent packing and tape was a constant humming and muffled squeals that seemed to charm the doctor into even more intensive efforts of making the girl more uncomfortable, so Laura had slowly tried to stop making any noise. As each notch was taken in on the breast shackles, she couldn’t help but whine and hum into the packing and Doctor Gail liked that a lot. The body harness Laura wore was complex and equally inventive in design. It was constructed of a light chrome chain with links that were flat and twisted together so that when the chain was laid out on a flat surface, all links could be placed flat on the surface as well. This made for less deep indentations in the flesh and created an interesting pattern on the skin as the chain was tightened. The harness was connected to a wide, heavily padded leather collar that had several D rings and connecting points around its circumference. The collar fitted close to Laura’s straining neck and forced her head up, keeping her from lowering her chin and looking down at her distorted breasts.
From two D rings mounted under her chin, chains extended to the shackles around her breasts. On the under side of each shackle, two short chains reached down to the tight waist chain, connected to it and then attached to the circular chains around the top of each thigh.
In the back, two chains reached from the collar to the waist chain, then passed on the outside of each swelling buttock to join the thigh-encircling chains. From this framework, the Doctor had added more confining elements to the chain web encasing Laura’s sweating, straining torso. From the center of the waist chain in front, a single heavier flat chain descended and buried itself deep inside the girl’s pussy, denuded earlier by painful waxing and now pushed aside by the gleaming steel chain that disappeared inside their embrace. Attached to the chain, but almost out of sight to all but the most investigative and persistent examiner was a six-inch long chrome phallus.
The crotch chain passed through the base of this unyielding probe, advanced a mere 1.4 inches and passed through the shiny base of another, slightly smaller impalement, the junior cousin of the shining forward invader and no less weighty or imposing as it was settled inside the girl’s straining asshole. Both impalements were heavy, steel alloy castings, their erotic shape carefully machined, inside hollowed out and exterior polished and heavily plated. Inside the hollow, each phallus housed a collection of interesting micro electronic gear, designed to make significant electronic contributions to the girl’s discomfort.
Emerging from the rear probe, the crotch chain linked up once again with the waist chain, then continued up along Laura’s spine to the center of the collar. From the side of each locking breast shackle, a chain wrapped around the girl’s back, followed the same path as one of her seldom used bras, and linked precisely at the spine with the vertical chain going from the collar to her posterior divide. Short lengths of chain acted as spacers between the vertical lengths and provided a tight confinement to the entire body from neck to thigh top. In all, more than thirty pounds of chain were used in this harness and each section was invisibly connected by locking links, making the outfit appear to have been forged while the girl was wearing it.
The effect was startling and quite sexy, Doctor Gail thought. He knew the tastes of his clients well enough to know that they’d find it equally fascinating when they got to observe and use the patient as they most likely would do. The challenge would come in finding out how to remove the chain harness so that other liberties might be taken with its unwilling occupant. For Laura certainly wasn’t willing. She had been kept bound in some way or another since Fran and Willie jumped her in the apartment. They’d bound her just as they had the girl’s roommate, then administered the mild drug, stuffed her into the duffel bag and taken her out through the garage. They had taken a long, circuitous route and brought her to the clinic in their minivan.
Now, wearing the chain harness and breast shackles was only part of the confinement. Laura’s hands were no use to her and her feet and legs only served to increase her overall discomfort. A single heavy steel shackle, much like the ones on her breasts, bound each wrist. These were connected to the two vertical chains in back, extending down from the collar. Each wrist shackle had two connecting chains. One held the wrist up against the opposite shoulder blade and was attached to the vertical chai
n that led up to the collar. The second led downward and met the imitation bra strap chain at mid back, then continued to the waist chain. The result was that Laura’s wrists were held immobile, high up on her back with the palms facing outward and fingers idly clutching nothing but the warm moist air of the “examination room”.
Similar shackles were on each ankle. These connected to the thigh chains and held her legs bent with calves against thigh backs. Chains encircling her legs just above each knee were joined by a single link. The girl rested on her knees and the tops of her feet and toes. She knelt in this position, secured by her hair braid to a single chromed upright post that was bolted to the tile floor and had an adjustable length with a ring at the top. The girl’s braid was tied through the ring with heavy copper wire and then the post was lengthened until she knelt almost upright. At this point, the post was locked in the extended position and Laura found that any relaxation resulted in a lot of pulled hair. Getting her into the chain and breast bondage had taken Doctor Gail and his assistant, Wanda, more than an hour and the captive girl had no idea how long it had been since they’d finished binding her and gone off to do other things. Laura quickly learned the penalty for moving a fraction of an inch. Two small wires led from the dual phalli into a small hole in the upright post. Laura couldn’t see or feel them, but her first attempts to shift her position resulted in an immediate response from the impalements. Both devices began to slowly vibrate, increasing in intensity as she responded with additional twitches and struggles.
Bondage a la Carte Page 11