Wage Slave

by Gail P. Wright

Face studiously neutral, Peter said: “Good. Stay there.” He went to a wall panel and pressed one side. It pivoted on smooth hinges to reveal a recessed cupboard. The shelves were lined with objects in metal and leather. He selected a long strap with attachments at each end.

  “Will you do the honours? Or shall I?”

  Adam shrugged, reluctant to admit he didn’t know the purpose of the contrivance. ‘You go ahead, Peter. You’re the expert.”

  Peter proceeded to buckle two small straps around her wrists, cuffing them parallel behind her back. A larger strap went round her neck. Apart from twisting her wrists to test the binding, Eva offered no resistance.

  The connecting strap was in two parts and Peter shortened it, raising her wrists level with her lower ribs. It was impossible for Eva to rest any of the weight of her arms on her hips, so, if left like that for long enough, she would face the dilemma of breathing or letting her throat take the weight of aching limbs.

  Adam pointed: “What’s that? Not your initials?” Centre front of the girl’s throat, two letters were etched into the light brown leather: p.b.

  “That’s the supplier’s logo.” Peter stepped back to examine his handiwork. “Something in your honour, my friend. See? I had faith in you all along.’’ He laughed. “Of course, if you aren’t up to it I don’t expect it will go to waste.”

  Next out of the cupboard was a gag. The broad leather plate carried a wedge, which Peter forced roughly between her teeth before taking a handful of her hair and yanking Eva’s head down hard. Buckling completed, her chin was thus held down, leaving insufficient play for her to tongue the gag loose.

  “Not as efficient as a helmet and stuffer, but it’ll do.” Peter looked hard into the girl’s rolling eyes: “Yes, my dear. This is for real.”

  Propped up at the front of the cupboard was a yard-long bar with a padded leather cuff at each end. Peter tossed it over along with a blindfold. “Your turn, Adam. One cuff round each ankle. Y’know?”

  These leathers were also marked ‘p.b.’ Adam noted, wondering how much Peter had spent on ‘his’ behalf.

  Eva made to back away, but grabbing one ankle he easily completed the first half of the job and after that she was tethered to him.

  As he placed the blindfold over her face - careful not to snag her hair, a shudder shook her shoulders. He bussed a kiss on the nape of her neck and turned in time to catch the armful of paraphernalia Peter dumped on him.

  Peter took from his pocket a tube of lubricating gel.

  “This looks more complicated than it is, but pay attention all the same.”

  A mass of straps sorted out into a harness comprising a waist-belt, understrap and a dangle of adjustable bits which hung to knee level. Adam’s jaw dropped as he realised what were attached to the crotch strap: at one end was a large knobbly dildo, at the other a second, but slimmer and smoother. Pins protruding from their bases passed through the strap and were safety-pinned in place with small padlocks.

  “No need to padlock the belts themselves this time, though if her arms were to be left free you’d have no choice,” Peter informed him, taking the cap off the tube.

  Eva moaned though the gag. Whatever was going to come next, she didn’t think she’d like the feel any more than the sound.

  Smothering both dildoes with gel, Peter passed the knobbly one between her straddled legs to Adam’s waiting fingers “Get it lined up ready. Then, on the count of three. Right?”

  “MMMmmm? MmM?” gurgled Eva.

  Adam nodded. Liking the idea more every second, he crouched and placed the rod’s cold tip against her vagina. Eva swayed sharply back - right onto Peter’s, which was already lined up with her anus.

  “One-two-three, GO!”

  The numbers rattled by so fast that Adam was slow off the mark and had to pursue the retreating pussy as she rose on tiptoe from Peter’s thrust. But the gel did its job and she returned to earth doubly skewered.

  “Keep it tight and pass me round the waistbelt. There’s probably a knack to this, but what the blazes! We’ve got beginner’s luck.”

  With the waistbelt clinched and the plugs secure inside her, Peter sorted out the remaining straps. One went round the top of each thigh and another above each knee. Vertical strips connected them all with the crotch. Adjusting everything, Peter ensured there was sufficient tension to ease the plugs out a fraction.

  “Remove the leg-spreader!” Peter got it put tidily away and took hold of Eva’s arm. “Don’t be afraid, now. We’re going for a little walk.” So saying, he drew her at a steady pace the length of the room and back.

  Adam got the point. And the point gave him the horn. Each tit-jiggling step Eva took stretched the leg harnesses and increased the pull at her crotch. The dildoes were moved gently in and out, massaging both passages. The effect could only be guessed at, but by the completion of her second circuit there was an observable weakness in the girl’s knees. Adam felt like clapping. So he did.

  Peter bowed. “Time for our drinkie. I think we’ve earned it, don’t you? Shall we put her away for a while?”

  Receiving an assenting nod he steered Eva towards the opposite wall. Adam followed. Another board pivotted to reveal a further surprise: this one really was a cell!

  About three feet square, the alcove was filled by a tubular steel cage which reached almost to the ceiling eight feet above. From the centre of its roof hung chromed handcuffs welded to a chain. They were empty. Not so the cage itself, for blinking in the sudden wash of light stood Petra. Single cuffs attached to the bars at various heights secured her wrists and ankles and a metal collar encircled her neck. An orange ball gag distended her jaw to what must have felt like the point of dislocation. She was naked. Peter opened the cage. Propelling Eva by means of a shove in the small of her back, he crammed the second sardine into the tin and secured the lid. The last thing Adam saw before the outer panel boarded the women in their own little world, was Petra’s staring eye.

  ***

  “No need to worry about them,” said Peter as the men relaxed with their drinks. “The ‘Hole’ is air-conditioned, and there’s an electronic sensor beneath the cage. In extremis, Petra has only to pass a little water and the alarm will activate. Same principal as a baby alarm. In fact it can be a little too sensitive. So she has to be careful not to dribble round the gag. Needless to say, false alarms attract severe punishment.”

  Adam sat back, grateful for the break as Peter lapsed into a bout of meditative sipping. Whilst longing to be let loose amongst that fulsome flesh, he was sufficiently realistic to appreciate that there was much to be learned. Things had begun moving so fast he was having trouble assimilating the details, knowing that all too soon he was expected to become an active participant. Still, he had only to follow McWardle s lead. Despite his reservations he couldn’t help asking: “What next, Peter?”

  “Food,” came the patient reply. “Followed by recreation. This will be a weekend to remember. Mark my words, we’ll mark their arses, lad.”

  They dined on salad, fruit cocktailand Leibfraumilch. The girls were to eat later, though what and how wasn’t specified. Afterwards, Peter outlined his plan of action.

  “Today - what’s left of it - and as much of tonight as we have the wit and stamina to occupy, are down to me. Tomorrow will be all yours. Whatever you want, we do. Fair?”

  “Eminently.”

  “At some point, if you won’t take it personally, I’ll give you my assessment. No! Don’t ask. Just wait and see. But please don’t go all withdrawn on me; I have my reasons. Just let yourself go and all will be revealed In good time.”

  Seeing little by way of an alternative, Adam resolved to do just that.

  ***

  Eva ached. All over.

  Not even the soles of her feet - bruised by the cage’s latticed steel floor - gave her any r
espite. If only they would become numb! But Petra had thwarted that possibility. By a combination of wiggles and moans she had cajoled Eva into wriggling her toes: a practical precaution to keep her circulation going and prevent fainting. Eva had picked up on the sense of it immediately, though that wasn’t much consolation in her present plight. Her arm and back muscles burned: the arms from keeping their weight off her neck; the back from holding herself upright in case her weight added to Petra’s distress. Although their bodies and thighs were forced together, it was impossible to determine exactly how Petra was restrained. She’d felt the ball gag in the other’s face and the soft squash of belly and breasts proved she was also naked. But there was no way to know if she was harnessed in any way - perhaps more severely than herself. She could feel the bars behind and on either side, but how far they extend in front was unguessable. She could be in a large space with only Petra’s posture trapping them so closely together. Somehow she didn’t think so, but either way there was nothing to do but suffer the discomfort, the salty itch of sweat and slimy press of flesh. One consoling thought persisted in Eva’s brain, however: Bad as it was, it wasn’t too bad. What might happen next, now that could be really bad!

  She was right, too.

  When she heard the panel click open and felt the draught, Eva experienced a chill of fear which turned the sweat to icicles and made her passingly thankful for the plug sealing her anal sphincter. The bars fell away and she was peeled off Petra and pulled out of the cage. Left to her own devices for a while, she staggered the stiffness from her legs.

  Christ, but her harness was a devilish contraption! And no respecter of honest fear. No sooner had she started moving than the intruding dildoes once more teased her into sexual heat. One might have been resistible, but in tandem they made a felicitous turncoat of her body. A hand brushed her head.

  “Keep still, Damn you!” The volume of Peter’s voice allowed for no interruption of his tone but, assuming the worst, Eva kept still. With a thick-fingered fiddle he whipped the blindfold from her face and she squintingly saw the Hospitality Room looking exactly as she had left it: with the sole addition of Petra.

  Petra stood unfettered but docile beside her, the bail gag jamming her mouth acheful even to see. Your mouth and my ass too, Eva thought sympathetically, wishing she could meet her companion’s eyes with even half the self-control she saw there. A more importunate thought soon absorbed her, though, for Peter moved to another wall panel and amazing things started to happen.

  As it opened, a system of gears connected via the hinge caused the ceiling panel immediately above to pivot to one edge and swing down, revealing a cavity running the width of the ceiling. On the wall was a windlass from which a cable led up through a pulley. The handle turned with well-oiled ease, causing Eva s eyebrows to climb as the cavity’s contents dropped slowly into view.

  A beam. Not a girder, in spite of being formed from gleaming steel. In size and shape it resembled a gymnastic beam. The bottom was festooned with an array of ring-bolts and swivels whose possibilities caused Eva a clutch of visceral terror. Exposed and helpless as she was, her only option was to cling to the intruding probes with the desperation of fingertips on a crumbling cliff face.

  As inevitably as a condemned woman’s last sunset, the beam sank to within a hands-breadth of the floor. Locking the windlass, Peter ferreted in the cupboard for more goodies. This time he withdrew a plastic bag bulging with bluntly curving shapes which he emptied onto the floor in a profusion of thick leather bands complete with D-rings, some oddities resembling old-fashioned spats, and assorted Karabiner snap-links and Kwicklinks.

  A gurgling drew everyone’s attention. Staring goggle eyed at the tumble of artefacts, Eva was wrenching feverishly at her bonds. Not until, red faced and weak kneed, she had accepted the futility, did she relent and ease the pressure on her constricted larynx.

  Peter issued peremptory instructions: “I want one either end of the beam, facing it from opposite sides. Right-side to nght-side is best. Get them sitting. Legs straight and open. Okay?”

  Adam nodded, manoeuvring Eva to the left end of the beam and waving Petra round to the right, where she sat unbidden and arranged herself as required. Eva look some settling, not least because it meant resting her weight on the anal plug’s padlock. But after much wriggling she clenched her buttocks and managed to ease the pressure.

  His part done and feeling as necessary as a castrate in a Rhondda miner’s choir, Adam stood aside and watched.

  The spats were just that, enclosing ankle and Instep to spread the suspended body’s weight. Next, each right ankle was Kwicklinked to the beam’s central swivel ring. Then he yanked the left legs wide and fastened them to the beam’s end. Using the windlass to take up the slack, Peter treated Adam to the sight of a pair of pussies taking the evening air. Literally, as the women were dragged inexorably forwards and up. In fact Adam was spoilt for choice, not knowing which slit to look at first: the depilated or the decorated.

  Petra suffered in silence, but Eva expressed groaning displeasure until her posture became untenable and she toppled backwards with an ungainly thump. Well, at least lying down wasn’t such a pain in the ass! When their heads were well clear of the floor, Peter secured the beam and, with a gleeful grin, rubbed his hands.

  “Allow me to welcome you to the Yard High Club. Just one or two small details.” He became intent on removing Eva’s harness and plugs. “Simple blindfolds tend to become dislodged as the weight shifts onto the neck. Adjust them once off the floor. Hoods and masks,” he added, “are all right.” With practised fluency he then applied the remaining paraphernalia: single cuffs to the women’s wrists - he whipped Eva’s restraints off so smoothly she hadn’t time to decide how to make use of her freedom before she was fettered again: a Kwicklink to connect the cuffed right wrists together; and lastly, two lengths of small-link chain which he snaplinked from their left cuffs to the rings which supported their left ankles.

  The finished result reminded Adam of the rows of paper dolls he had cut out of rolled-up paper as a child.

  The arrangement gave the men the best of both visual worlds. Whichever side they stood revealed the panoply of one full frontal and one full backal body in addition to the bird’s eye view of each succulent vulva. Adam’s senses whirled at the realisation that, given a long enough beam, there was no limit to the number of bodies that could be hung out to try. Yes, on reflection he preferred the image of washing-on-the-line to a brace of game birds hung up to age. Dead birds were inert, whereas the inverted figures before him showed signs of sentience as they swayed to the beating of their hearts.

  Whether for consolat ion or comfort, the women worked their linked wrists round until they could hold hands. Though judging by the up-and-downing they had trouble agreeing whether the limbs should be held up or allowed to dangle floor-wards along with their hair.

  Adam couldn’t help a sympathetic wince when he noticed Eva’s mouth. The weight of her head, added to the tension already on the gag strap, was forcing the leather plate so hard against her teeth that her lips were squeezed out around the edges. A metal brank couldn’t have silenced her more cruelly. But silence her it did. She clung to Petra’s hand like a lost child, abdomen fluttering uncontrollably.

  ***

  At that moment Eva’s belly was probably the least threatened part of her anatomy.

  Adam eyed the women, his palms itching as avidly as his loins. Petra’s sumptuous breasts and buttocks retained much of their fullness, even in reverse. And the rounded belly sagged only by millimetres. Eva’s taut skinned athleticism and small tits remained virtually unchanged, except that her nipples now refused to meet his eye.

  He was still inspecting the parade of bifurcated bums when something was thrust into his hand.

  “Time for some post-prandial exercise. You can play your own tune or take the time from me.”

&nbs
p; “Hold on a minute. What was that about a Yard High Club?”

  Peter winked: “Patience. With a chuckle he patted Eva’s rump as though favouring a pony, and turned his attention to his own wife.

  Adam weighed the heavy tawse. 0f bright new leather - with the ubiquitous p.b., of course - the five long fingers were devoid of creases. This looked to be its maiden outing. You and Eva both, he thought, swinging it experimentally. The slack flapping suggested there was some knack to tawsing which would have to be acquired. Well, that was okay; Eva had the time and he certainly had the inclination. Together they’d work it out.

  A loud PLATTT! made him jump. Peter had started. Petra

  remained silent, Eva beingthe one to mumble and twitch in response to no more than the sound of pain.

  Adam joined in: PLATTT!

  Eva bucked.

  PLATTT!

  Ah, he understood now. Unstiffened leather requires a precise, even swing, plus some follow-through to counter any rebound.

  PLATTT!

  Yes, a tawse was deceptive. It did most of the work for you. No need for power stroking, just a steady acceleration to prevent twisting. PLATTT! Easy. Table tennis without the spin. PLATTT! Eva snuffled like a hog in a wallow, surging and swaying like a marionette in the hands of a drunken puppeteer; shrugging and snaking like an escapologist fresh out of time.

  PLATTT!

  Her bottom - ineffably feminine, yet so pert it was almost boyish - already glowed. Print overlay print so smoothly that individual marks were only distinguishable at the very fringes of the scarlet expanse. The quintet of fingers moulded with the mounds leaving no pore unpummelled.

  PLATTT!

  PLATTT!

  PLATTT!

  Two arms with but a single aim.

  Four cheeks with but a single blush.

  Twin cocks with but a single point.

  Both men stopped and exchanged a look. Peter appeared as hot and bothered as Adam felt. Each shuffled uneasily to one side, certain of what they wanted, dubious of the other’s commitment.