Bondage Place

by Bruce McLachlan

  Without word and with their expressions lost beneath their silver masks they helped Lydia from the bed and showed her to the wall where they opened the wardrobe. The interior was arrayed with dresses and other sultry clothing presented in a variety of soft and fetishistic fabrics.

  A suspender belt of black satin was slipped around her waist. The suspenders gripped fine denier dark stockings, the soft sheen flowing into court shoes with an ankle strap adorned with a padlock to prevent removal. A satin Basque was applied, the soft material gently holding her breasts, accentuating their shape. The lingerie was a huge difference to the stringent fist of rubber that she had grown so accustomed to.

  Only her metal collar remained from the previous vestments and as lace gloves were slipped onto her hands she was escorted out into the corridor and shown to a curtain. Words were irrelevant here; the slaves only needed to do and to feel, to experience the joys of their status. Speech was for their owners, used to order and command.

  The velvet veil of red was drawn aside and she was presented to an alcove in the wall. A squat meter high pillar rose at the center and threw out four arms toward the floor in an “X” formation, the metal lengths adorned with stem straps.

  The walls bore small hooks, each bearing a weapon of corporal punishment and several sexual toys. Taken over to the engine of restraint she was laid down upon it and her limbs drawn out to be sealed within the awaiting bonds. With the buckles tightened into place she was left helpless, her head lolling over the structure. Unsupported, her limbs held out, her torso at the middle and highest point of the cross, her sex facing into the corridor, inviting use. A gag was presented to her lips, the large ball being ruthlessly stuffed in and sealed into position, leaving her unable to voice any complaint.

  After a furtive glance over their shoulders to confirm they were alone, one of the women knelt down between Lydia’s splayed legs and placed soft kisses across the skin of her rear. The mixture of steel and flesh pecks meandered across the proffered flesh. Lydia stiffened against the leather straps that pinned her down, her head jerking up, her teeth biting to the gag as she unleashed a long heady moan.

  The tongue flashed through the hole in the hood and into Lydia, riding deep. The woman’s saliva a competent lubricant. Instantly her attentions became more devoted, her tongue spilling its broadest area upon her clitoris, rolling against the nugget and bringing Lydia to shuddering fits of exquisite response. Sealed within the arms of her contorted pose, she felt utterly surrendered to the cunnilingus, a vulnerable state that immeasurably heightened her responses to it.

  With a final gasping cry she was brought to orgasm, the fellow slave flicking with riots of satisfaction in seeing Lydia dance so fervently under her oral teachings.

  Without any other exchange between them the attendants turned and deserted her, leaving Lydia alone. She was open and ready to be used for whatever purpose any other passing slave or guest had in mind. The attentions of the girl had shown her just how exposed she was to the will of others, not that Lydia minded, and in her thoughts there was a tingling sense of excitement as to what she was going to experience here. Her previous trials here were fairly singular, bestowed by an individual. Now she was open to -the masses and their whimsical favors and vices.

  It was not long before such a visitor spotted her. The large man grabbed her hips and inserted himself, reaching forward and clawing at her breasts, pulling down the fabric of the Basque to expose them fully to his fondling. Pinching her nipples, he continued to sate his desire. Her body was held at just the right height for such acts of violation.

  With a final jolt he flopped onto her, clutching her tightly as he quivered and jerked, his tiny drives extracting every joule of ecstasy. Withdrawing, he straightened up and moved away, trailing a hand upon her nylon smoothed thigh as a fleeting touch to assess the physique he had used.

  Lydia lay loose within her formation, blood slowly running to her head, creating a straining presence within her skull. Occasionally she pulled at the bonds to remind herself that they were there, the feeling of bondage stoking her volcanic need for fulfillment. The sensation of being presented so openly was highly erotic her degraded pose, her restraint - all of it made the session one of remarkable satisfaction.

  Soon after the man left, one of the maids passed her demeaned frame and paused. After looking both ways to check that all was clear and that she could act without reservation, the maid snatched a strap from the wall and threw it down at the prisoner’s bare loins. The wide strip of leather met her sex with a shrill smack and continued with blows full of speed and strength. The maid arbitrarily disciplined Lydia while she gasped and shrieked into her gag, her drawn howl seeping around the rigid ball, the subdued murmur echoing slightly in the small alcove and rolling down the hallway.

  Swerving her attention aside, the maid continued to flash blows to the splayed inner thighs. The pale flesh turned a flushed pink from the stinging attention. Lydia cast her head around wildly, straining against the restraints, trying to rip free and evade the savage bullying. Her muscles flickered, her tendons and veins rising as her face became a raging crimson and her eyes watered with the tearing mayhem.

  The capricious assault ceased abruptly and the maid leant out to check for passers-by or signs that someone was coming to investigate the sounds of punishment. Spying no such threat to her privacy she set aside the strap and instead drew up a long, thick dildo set upon a short handle, the pink truncheon being held like a weapon.

  Settling between the parted legs, the woman stroked the shaft through the valley of Lydia’s sex, bringing quaking shudders from her hopelessly bound anatomy. Lydia burbled onto her gag, taking the chance to plead for mercy, the fierce scourging still making her head swim.

  With a slow shove the woman breached Lydia’s buttocks with a forceful drive. She plunged the rod into her rear, the dildo moving in on short jolts, the non-lubricated tissues dragging upon the dry plastic and making the entry all the more harsh and difficult to endure.

  As the baton began to turn and rock, grinding and churning her anus with malicious intent, the maid leaned in and buried her tongue into Lydia’s pudenda. The oral stimulation was corrupted by occasional bites to her clitoris. These most insufferable of nips made her spasm as her keening cry poured freely through the gag, especially when the maid maintained her bite and spitefully ground her teeth upon the tender nugget of flesh.

  The delight of the cunnilingus was meshed with the violation of the dildo and the occasional vicious nature of the servant. Writhing in her bonds, Lydia’s body set free a haze of sweat, the dampness seeping into her lingerie, leaving it moist against her skin. It got so she didn’t know whether to scream or groan, the contradictory sensations pummeling her mind in the magnificent manner to which she was now hopelessly addicted.

  The tongue suddenly fled her belly and with a vicious twist and tug the dildo was ripped harshly from her, the sudden rending flight of the toy making her issue a brief squeal of pain. Setting aside her implements, the maid looked over the trapped and languid body one last time and left the alcove, proceeding as though nothing had happened.

  For some time Lydia merely lay in the web of leather, mulling over the dwindling sensations of the encounter. She wished she could touch herself, tugging gently at the straps, feeling somehow titillated by the fact that she was prevented from such intimate access.

  Footsteps brought her from her thoughts and she strained her head around to see who it was. The soft pad of feet came to a halt outside the alcove. Was someone just looking at her or were they deciding what they could do with her vulnerable body? She could just about catch an image of small bare feet on the carpet, the skin twinkling with jewels of moisture.

  The soft chime of an iced drink being moved reached Lydia’s ears and she jolted with surprise when an icy cold influx touched the skin of her stomach. A frozen cube of ice was drawn in a steady line, depositing a slick trail behind it as Lydia shivered and pa
nted.

  The cube rolled upon her, the corners were melted by the steady turn of it upon her warm belly. Then it started to travel closer toward her sex, sweeping nearer and nearer, illustrating precisely what was intended.

  Gritting her teeth to the gag, Lydia closed her eyes and braced herself.

  The orb was removed before reaching the exposed area and suddenly slammed against the puckered bud of her anus, the driving finger of its bearer throwing it through her sphincter. Lydia jolted against her trammels, unleashing a wail as the searing cold traveled in, making her tracts and the muscular ring bum from the extreme temperature change. Lydia clenched her abdomen, trying to excrete it, the severity of the freezing nugget being far too much for her to bear. But the finger that had thrust it into her remained in place, denying her any chance to expunge it, the digit wiggling slightly to tickle her internal membranes.

  Wasting her burbling pleas on the gag she clawed at the leather, trying to get free, torn with instinctive panic as the icy presence started to travel deeper into her. Swallowed by her rectum, its location distinct within her as it voyaged into the twists and turns of her interior.

  The finger started to withdraw and Lydia leveled her attempts on spitting it out, only to find that another was poised to be injected. Before she could clench her buttocks and try and deny ingress, the same fingers slapped another cube to her anus and breached her. Increasing the volume of her complaints, she bucked and fought to get free, unable to withstand such tempests of cold.

  A third cube was taken up in the person’s spare hand, their fingers still lodged in her, stopping her from ejecting the second. The trial continued as the ice was put to her buttocks and rolled around the smooth skin, etching watery swirls before applying itself to the crease of her rear.

  Lydia clenched with all her might, her cheeks compressing the hand already between them. It was a dilemma. The woman would have to remove her hand to insert the next, giving Lydia a chance to eject the second, but allowing ease of access for the third. She tried to squeeze her abdomen to reject the second while keeping her rear defiant, but couldn’t master the independent use of the muscles.

  The choice was made for her as the anonymous assailant forced their hand back, dragging at her taut rear until the intruding appendage came free.

  A thumb dug into her left cheek and pulled it aside, the nail paining her as it demanded that she allow access. It clearly didn’t matter whether she complied because the cube leant itself to the valley of her rear with force. The wet morsel was already starting to worm its way through, slippery and sneaky, defeating her barricades.

  Applying more strength, Lydia’s face grew hot with strain as she tried to resist. The cube broke free of the fleshy cushions and jabbed through her sphincter. The shock of its insertion made her spasm, her rear going lax and causing the goading hand to thrust fingers deep into her, throwing their cargo into her depths.

  The person arose and walked around to her, revealing herself to Lydia’s water-filled eyes. Her belly was full of cramps as the ice continued to radiate winter in her belly.

  The young girl that had greeted her arrival here was dressed in a black swimsuit, the high thigh garment casting thin cords over her shoulders and plunging at the back. The material shimmered from the wetness in it, her body laden with jewels of water; her hair tied back and hanging slick down her spine. Her mirrored sunglasses perched on her brow and her eyes full of mirth as she regarded Lydia. In her hands she held a tall glass that was now devoid of cubes and in the other she clutched a large bottle of elite spring water.

  “It’s nice to see you again, slave,” she announced, unfastening Lydia’s gag. “Now don’t you dare eject any of those or I’ll go and get a whole tray and make sure they’re all in before I tape you shut!” warned the girl with stern tones.

  Lydia shivered at the prospect, the horror of so many freezing entities in her rear made her hold her muscles in check and endure the paltry trio while they slowly melted in the warm nest of her anus.

  The gag was drawn from her jaw and Lydia let her head hang loose. Lydia’s eyes panned across the delicate curves of the girl, her body supple and silken, causing Lydia’s arousal to bloat at the vision. The young woman was gorgeous, her cruelty and youth the most intense of aphrodisiacs. At that moment, Lydia would have said or done anything to be granted the honor of slowly licking every droplet of water from the girl’s enticing body.

  “I bet all the things that people have done to you have made you thirsty, huh slave?” crooned the girl, running a slender hand through Lydia’s hair.

  “Y … yes, mistress,” she stammered in response, knowing that she would either be force-fed the water or perhaps, with any luck, she would be allowed to service the girl and take her liquid from the juices of cunnilingus.

  “You want some, slave?” she added, shaking the plastic bottle, her eyes winking with obliquity.

  “Yes, mistress,” repeated Lydia, her mind trying to fathom what the girl was intending.

  With a merry skip she stepped over Lydia’s face, looking down on the hanging head between her naked thighs. Grabbing Lydia’s hair, she lowered and hauled her slave’s face into her crotch, smothering her in the warm, wet fabric of the swimsuit.

  Lydia’s eyes were wide as she stared up across the divine physique of the girl, her position one that brought an intense lust to be used and abused.

  Once more the girl’s lithe digits combed through Lydia’s hair and then her thighs tightened their grip, compressing her head, leaving her mouth forced against the material.

  Unscrewing the lid of the bottle she cast the cap aside and held the container up. With a grin, she reached down with her spare hand and pinched Lydia’s nose closed, leaving her wheezing softly through the filter of the suit for a moment Lydia had to suck at the damp fabric, drawing the moisture from it and being forced to swallow it so she could hiss her inhales through the impairing veil.

  “Here it comes, slave,” uttered the girl with a licentious hum as she arched her back. It caused Lydia to sigh with delight from watching the nubile breasts heave against the tight swimsuit.

  With a steady pour she drooled the water onto the raised peaks, the chill causing her nipples to rise against the suit, making themselves distinct as the material darkened in a descending curtain while moisture flowed through it.

  Lydia mewled as she saw what was coming, the deluge slowly creeping down through the suit toward her mouth.

  Taking a deep breath she saw the girl cease the flow and lean back to watch the show. The warmed liquid crept in across her mouth, the curtain of moisture blocking access to air. Lydia could see that she would have to act to save herself and diligently began sucking the waters from the material, gulping them down, her face heating, her lungs starting to throb, her need for a new breath of air growing more demanding with every passing second.

  The girl watched with glee as Lydia struggled, and as the tail end of the flow finally worked its way through the suit and to the crotch. Taking hesitant sighs of air, she coughed and spluttered, the small intake of water still crippling her breaths.

  Meanwhile, the water she had drunk was refusing easy digestion because of her incline. The measure of liquid kept stinging the back of her throat as a small trickle was regurgitated with acid, forcing her to drive it back and try to hold it in.

  “Time for another drink, slave,” she divulged, and Lydia fought for air as she watched a sparkling cascade splattering onto the girl’s cleavage. It flowed down her chest, marching toward her as she gathered as much oxygen as she could before she was denied again.

  Lydia sucked and struggled, making the girl grip her all the tighter, the feel of a thrashing mouth and a panicked vacuum on her sex spicing the waters with the taste of her lasciviousness.

  “That’s it, slave, fight for your air,” she murmured, ceasing the flow and leaning back to observe Lydia’s travail.

  Gasping and suckling she cleared the ma
terial and dragged her breaths through the crotch of the girl. Her body quaked against the bonds, her fight to get free growing more distinct. Her head ached, her temples throbbed and she felt dizzy from the battle to breathe.

  “We’re not done yet, slave. There’s plenty more in the bottle,” warned the girl, and started a new flow, letting the sparkling font pour onto her for a bit longer.

  As the water rolled down through the tight mesh, Lydia sobbed and offered begging whimpers, the words muffled into the girl’s sex.

  “I wouldn’t waste my breath on pleading, slave. You’ll be needing that air very soon,” she smiled, and Lydia managed to gather a quick inhale before she was privately dunked.

  Thrashing to get free, Lydia could do nothing as the girl held her tight, locking her between her powerful thighs. She watched with malicious joy as Lydia’s eyes rolled and bulged, her body fighting to clear the blockage of water so it could find air once more.

  On the verge of swooning she took a rash gasp, careless of the consequences, desperate for air. Her convulsions gained new vigor as she choked and coughed, breaking into chaotic actions.

  The girl watched impassively as Lydia fought to recover. The extreme jeopardy Lydia believed herself to be in pushed her deeper than she had gone before. She was consumed by the intensity of her demise; the animal response to drowning, the masochistic glee to enduring such water torture between a pitiless young woman’s seductive legs.

  “Now for a shot of something special, slave,” she pronounced, and Lydia released a long droning dirge of misery at the awareness that she was going to be assaulted again.

  “Here it comes, slave,” warned the girl.

  Lydia saw her take a deep swig of the water before crooking her back and leaning over.

  Taking a small gasp, Lydia watched the pursed lips of the girl start to open, letting the waters trickle out as a meager flow straight onto her crotch. The mouthful filled the fabric and Lydia gulped it down with submissive delight relishing her derogation, the fight for air a lot simpler this time.