Bondage a la Carte

by Jurgen von Stuka

  Her friend, lying next to her, was bound in the same way. Cindy’s smaller figure, with her less voluptuous breasts and narrower hips, was stretched perhaps even more than Amy’s was. The top of her hood was only inches from the elbow chain and her feet were pulled all the way back until they joined her chained hands above the middle of her back. The girls’ labored breathing was the only sound in the small room, as the guards picked up their extra gear and prepared to leave. Both girls were straining to find any position that would lessen the torment of their hogties. They rolled and tumbled from side to side, bumping into each other occasionally and rubbing their naked breasts and bellies across the cool floor. Drool ran from the gag tubes and sweat streamed from their bent bodies.

  Although the gags stopped the loud cries, continuous whimpering and whines came from behind the hoods and through the gag tubes. The cuffs on their elbows were the worst, the steel bands cutting into the soft flesh as the prisoners pulled their heads forward a fraction of an inch and thus pulled their elbows even closer together. The hoods were dark caves of horror, for the tight leather sealed their heads relentlessly in a sweaty, steamy hell with only the gag tubes and their nostrils as outlets for the accumulated body heat that escaped from every pore. Their hair was soaked and their eyes ran with salty tears as they both tried to find something, anything, which would free them from the pressure of the steel cuffs and leather hoods. Amy, who had been tied and chained many times before, had at first felt the excitement of the bondage. It was stimulating and brought her a high that was much stronger than what she usually experienced. Her brain swirled with the exotic pleasure of the restraint of her limbs and the sealed confinement of her senses. But as the cuffs bit into her arms, wrists and ankles, the joy and excitement of the involuntary confinement turned to discomfort and finally to fear as she struggled more than her friend for release. Cindy, seeking some release from the torment, laid on the floor with her head back, her hardened nipples pressed to the concrete and belly flat against the smooth flooring. She tested the bonds and even moved her head back a bit to ease the tension between the hood and elbow cuffs. She hurt, but she could manage to stand it for awhile, she thought.

  Sometime later, the terrible hog-ties were removed and the sweating, exhausted girls were treated to another of The Villa’s “special services”. They were each hooked up to a machine that performed the unpleasant task of cleaning out their lower digestive tract. Still bound with hands behind them, but elbows free, they remained hooded. They lay stretched out on heavy wooden tables; hoods locked to one end and their wide-spread, cuffed ankles to the other. They had no choice but to endure this additional invasion. Directly below their crotch was a large hole in the table. Hoses ran through the hole and into their bodies. The cleaning device used a single large, soft rubber plug that was attached to the rectum with a belt and a crotch strap. Once the lubricated plug was inserted, the crotch strap was pulled tight and the plug jammed several inches up into the girls’ unreceptive colon. The plugs had two hoses connected: one for input and one for removal. The machine slowly pumped several pints of a warm liquid into the girls’ swelling intestines and then, after about twenty minutes, a valve was released and the solution was allowed to flow out. This was done many times over a three-hour period, turning the girls’ lower tract into a well-irrigated and eventually completely empty site for such embarrassing and intrusive activity. They were pumped full, sealed shut and then, after many long minutes of expecting to explode, they were allowed to release the horrific internal load. This process continued with short respites until everything in their digestive systems had been expelled. Then they were left on the tables to contemplate their fate. Immobilized and sealed away from their surroundings, they could do nothing but wait. They could only wait and think and swallow the saliva pooling around the leather gags.

  Later, the Amazon guards carried both hooded, chained bodies down two long flights of tiled stairs to small concrete cells with steel doors. The doors were so small that the guards had to first push the girls through and then crawl in behind them. The cells were slightly larger than an upright coffin. Before entry, some small changes were made in the girls’ bondage. Where the original elbow cuffs had been, a new set of shackles with a longer joining chain was attached, relieving some of the terrible tension in their arms and shoulders. The hood-to-elbow chain was disconnected and the top of their hood refastened to a D ring high up on the cell wall, holding each girl stiffly upright against the cold cement wall, her ankle cuffs locked to a ring in the floor. A heavy chain was attached to a wall ring under the right armpit and led over the chest, above the breasts and then fastened to another wall ring under the left armpit. The function of this chain was to pin the body to the wall and hold it upright so that all the weight wasn’t taken up solely by the hood ring and its suspending links. The feeding tubes were connected to another tube that led into the cell from outside where it tapped a plastic gallon container kept full of a sweet, syrupy concoction intended to keep them alive indefinitely if necessary. The guards adjusted the enema belts and crotch straps with the addition of a catheter to carry away body fluids and a separate hose connection to the butt plugs already in place. Thus any wastes were removed in a sanitary fashion. The final accommodation was a narrow chain wrapped around their legs, just above the knees. This was taken around the legs once, then threaded through the space between and cinched tight, binding the legs close together. The guards adjusted the tension on the hood chain so that the girls were stretched fully upright, breasts pointing directly forward and nipples in an exaggerated and rigid attention. Amy’s fuller breasts were elevated somewhat by this tension while Cindy’s smaller and firmer pair jiggled for the guard’s attention. Inspecting the captives closely, one Amazon noticed what she thought were small piercing holes in Amy’s nipples. She looked closer, tweaking each nib between her fingers while the prisoner twisted and turned, trying to avoid the titillating exploration. Satisfied with what she had discovered, the guard released the responsively hardened flesh and filed the information away for later consideration.

  Suspended with her chained feet just barely flat on the floor, Amy hung in her cell. In an identically tiny cement room next door, Cindy hung fastened to the wall in a similar fashion. Naked, chained, hooded and gagged, the two women were actually bound back to back, with only a few inches of steel reinforced cement wall between them. They were kept that way for a week. Twice a day, someone entered the cells, released the suspension and lowered the suffering figures to the cold cement floor. After thirty minutes, they were hung back in the same agonizing position. No one spoke to them, except to give them a curt order and no one touched them except for these minimal procedures. At some point early in the week, a set of heavy stainless steel rings was fitted to Cindy’s nipples while she hung helplessly on the wall. Once in place, the rings were snapped shut and for good measure, small weights attached. Because Amy did not have the piercings, she was treated to the short surgical procedure the same day as Cindy’s rings were emplaced. By the end of the week, both girls were wearing their new rings and weights. One day, someone entered the cells and modified their bondage by pushing the chest chain down until it bisected the breasts horizontally, then the weights were removed from the nipple rings ant the rings pushed through one of the large oval links in the chain. A heavy, armored Master lock was then secured to each nipple ring, keeping the ring attached to the chain and the girls’ fleshy nipples in tight and painful contact with the ring and chain. Otherwise, they were left alone. They sweated and shivered in the cold and heat of the nights and days they could not see. They moaned from the pain and discomfort and they swallowed the syrupy glop that was forced into the gag tubes. They evacuated their swollen bowels through the ever-present butt plugs and they peed through the catheters. At their daily release, they lay curled up on the floor, occasionally clawing with numb fingers at the hoods, trying to find the mechanism to release their sealed heads. Inside the hoods, the skin and hair
had become one. Sweat and tears had coagulated the mess into the soaked leather and they no longer felt much of anything under the heavy leather seal. They had been reduced from vibrant young women to slugs bound to a concrete and steel wall. They saw no light. They heard no voices. They said nothing. They groaned and mewed into the empty cells. The cuffs chafed wrists and ankles. The chains dug into their chests and the gags became part of their mouths. They hung there, alone and begging silently for release that was not to come quickly.

  Chapter Three

  When it did come, release was not pleasant. After seven days in their horrible state, with no warning, the wall to which they were bound suddenly began to rise. As their feet left the floor, both girls awoke from their stupor of pain and boredom and slowly realized that they were being lifted upwards by their hoods and the chains on their breasts and under their arms. The two neighboring cells they were in shared the same single wall and this was being raised to another level until the entire wall, with its bound captives, was at the floor above. A panel in the ceiling of the cells slid back and the jointly shared wall rose on tracks. When it reached the next level, the panels slid shut and became floor for their new location. The girls had not realized that they were bound back to back and only when the hoods were removed did this become apparent.

  Hood removal was painful and slow. The sudden exposure to light, after seven days in total darkness was also painful. Neither girl was able to see for some time, but their keepers, another pair of Amazons, took care in removing the hood and its fixtures. The locks at the back were first removed and then the leather that had become second skin to the girls’ heads was slowly pulled forward and up. Some of Amy’s hair came away with the hood, leaving indentations in her pale facial skin where clumps of hair had been pressed for so long. The gag band, sealed behind her head with a long strip of Velcro, was unfastened and the sodden lumps of leather extricated from her sagging and stiff jaws. This too took some time because the girl’s mouth had been stretched around the leather wad for so long that her teeth had become embedded in the softened material and then actually stuck in the gag. Both Amy and Cindy were being cared for at the same time, but they could neither speak nor see each other because each remained on her own side of the wall and each had an escort who was working on freeing them.

  The beeswax in their ears was carefully removed using a warm dissolving solution and cotton-tipped swabs. Hoses were disconnected, but the plugs and catheters remained in place. They were released from the wall and lowered to canvas stretchers covered with white sheets. Neither girl could move much and they offered no resistance. Their limbs, stiff and immobile after so long a time chained to the wall in such strict bondage, were limp and cold from poor circulation. This was expected by their captors and was part of the initial training that had been planned for them.

  The escort Amazons carried Amy off to a nearby bathroom with a large spa tub of warm, soapy water. They lowered her into the tub, then locked a wide, padded metal collar around her neck and fastened this to a steel fitting embedded in the porcelain at the head of the tub. Amy was lying with her head on a small cushion and her neck clamped to the tub fixture below the cushion. Held there by the throat, she would not slip down into the water and drown nor was she going to get up and leave. Turning on the pumps to get the water circulating in the tub, the escort left Amy and went back the get Cindy. They took her to an adjoining bathroom and positioned her in a tub in the same way. The timers and thermostats set, both girls were left to their therapy baths while feeling and tone returned to their exhausted, stiff bodies.

  “Well now,” chirped Julio Vargas, co-owner of The Villa Cristobal. “What have these two been up to?” He was looking at an array of TV monitors, two of which displayed the young American women lying strapped to metal gurney carts in The Villa’s basement. The naked girls were strapped with wide leather belts at the usual bondage points: neck, above and below the breasts, around upper arms, wrists, waists, upper legs and ankles. Their legs and arms were bound to the sides of the tables and both girls again wore gags that held their jaws wide open. Narrow leather straps held the gags in place.

  Amazon Number Three, formerly known as Sarah, a senior guard/escort for The Villa, stood along side the monitors, looking at her boss, not at the scene on the tubes. She had just come up from the basement after removing the girls from their baths and positioning the still limp bodies on their gurneys.

  “They are doing fine. More therapy may be needed as they were in one position so long, but they are fully cooperative and very interested in their situation,” the woman said. As she stood before her superior, she was aware that Julio was again, as he often did, admiring the Amazon woman’s figure. Number Three was indeed someone to be admired and much of her present look was the result of two activities: continued rigorous exercise and figure enhancement that Julio had carried out himself on the tall, statuesque blond. Her skin-tight, leather cat suit was cut low, showing off the top third of her incredible breasts and deep cleavage. The suit accentuated a perfect, perhaps somewhat top-heavy hourglass shape. Number Three was one of The Villa’s showpieces. Number Three knew it and so did Julio.

  For work within the property, the escorts all wore these one-piece cat suits. They enclosed the body from ankles to head and were available in several styles, fabrics and designs. While the leather version was perhaps most popular with the guests, latex, spandex-lycra and cotton models served equally well for variety. On occasions where leather wasn’t suitable, the other materials served well. Some versions were only body suits that covered from crotch to crown. Others had interesting cut-outs or panels that could be opened at the crotch, nipples or rear.

  Number Three had a figure that stretched the suits and the imagination of any observer to the limit. Nearly six feet tall, she walked with a hip-swinging motion that allowed every body part to move seemingly in rhythm with some unheard jungle beat. Everything moved in perfect erotic harmony. Her long hair, which just reached her shoulders, was like polished gold and swung around her perfect face and neck. Her stomach was flat and hard muscled. Her ribs showed only slightly below the massive, firm breasts, which swayed braless within the confines of the suit. She wore only high-heeled boots and was never seen in bare feet or flat shoes. This amazing figure was the result of extensive bodybuilding begun even before she had come to The Villa. The details had been finely crafted by Julio’s plastic surgery skills. Some of that work had been done under anesthesia, but other fine points had been done without any medication, with Sarah strapped down to the operating table while Julio slowly carried out the “modifications”. Sarah had spent a year at The Villa before taking over her present duties. That year had changed her life.

  Number Three was one of five such models that The Villa kept for escort and guard services. Two years before, she had been Sarah Pines, a runner up in the Miss Fit Arizona competition. She entered the competition mostly for the money, but also because things were not going that well in her life. Seeking companionship among both sexes, Sarah had experienced rejection and embarrassment on several occasions. She was desperately looking for something meaningful and permanent. She was also looking for her niche in the shadow scene world of S&M and had not been able to find it. As she left the stage at the contest finals, clutching a large gold trophy and a check for $500, an attractive Latino man came up to her and handed her a small personal-sized envelope. He quickly bowed, smiled and then walked away into the crowd. Later that day, Sarah opened the envelope and found five thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills and an airline ticket. A short typed letter invited her to come to The Villa Cristobal, outside Mexico City, for a short vacation and for possible long-term employment. She considered the offer for two days, closed her apartment and took a cab to the airport in Tucson. She never returned home.