This work Copyright (C) 2000, by Caitlain McCarren. I reserve all rights of distribution not otherwise expressly granted herein. Should you like my works and wish to add my story to your collection, you are at liberty to do so for personal use as proscribed by the Berne Convention and U. S. Copyright law pertaining to fair use. In addition, electronic distribution is allowed through BBS or the Internet as long as the text retains my by-line, copyright data, and signature, and no fee for this transmission is charged or required by the transmitter. Transmission or distribution by all other modes; print, duplication to optical or magnetic media, and such other modes as may be currently or ultimately provided, are expressly forbidden. I, Caitlain McCarren, retain all rights to such transmission. In addition, this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to or association with persons living or dead is coincidental. I describe situations, which without proper care could cause bodily harm or injury. Fiction is best left as such. Don't attempt any of what is described herein without providing utmost care and consideration before the fact. To close, this story, while work of fiction, describes adult situations. If you are not yet of the age of majority, or if accessing, reading, possessing, or distributing material of this nature is illegal in your community; or if such material offends you, I invite you to leave now, before you begin. In addition, the portion of the story line at the end, with the ribbons, was borrowed from another author, (though in that story it wasn't put to this use.) All the same, if you suspect you wrote that story won't you write to me and let me know the details. I'd like to attribute the story to the author here. Punished - A Seminal Tail By Caitlain McCarren I failed! I failed miserably. Mistress says I forget myself: miss opportunities to serve her and my master. She sites several occasions. Worse, she says she forgave those transgressions. I know she's been generous and forgiving. The straw that broke the camel's back was yesterday, when I spoke back to her. It was such a little thing. She told me to pick up the dirty clothes. It's a chore I do everyday anyway. She just asked that I do it then instead of an hour from then when it was in my usual schedule. I didn't even say no. I just mumbled under my breath while I did it. It was a mistake, a big mistake. "You forget why you're here. You had the temerity to question my orders. Admittedly you did it under your breath. It's the fact you did it at all, that you find yourself in this position." This position is wrists crossed in the center of my back, they and my bound ankles tethered to the post and my neck tethered to the ceiling, a tether short enough to keep me standing on tip toes. The discipline hood is tightly laced over my head. The earcups, when not carrying her irate voice, steadily pump out high amplitude white noise. The straps are so tight my head throbs. I see nothing, I hear nothing, I speak nothing for the foot long, two inch round, jelly penis gag stuffed in my mouth and down my throat. Frankly, Mistress is correct, as always, and it may be that I get my just reward. It is just so very difficult to stand en Pointe like this, I hope that Master takes pity on me when he returns home. It seems like I stood here like this a day. Suddenly the noise stops. With the blood rushing in my ears I don't notice at first. When I finally do, I summon all my will to stand straight and tall for my master. I do so want to please him so he may show me some leniency. I strain with the effort to remain tall and still. I hope he will speak. I hope he will chastise me, but then loose the neck tether. I'm trying so very hard to remain still on my toes. Finally, exhausted, I can't hold position any longer. As I begin teetering on my toes my ankles release and the neck tether tugs cruelly as my heels touch floor. I'm immediately back up on one foot to relieve the tension around my neck. Barely able to breathe, again I hear the laugh through my earcups. It's a woman's laughter, high pitched, nearer a cackle than a chuckle. "No dear, I'm not your Master. Though I'm impressed with that physical display, I'll show no pity. You get what you deserve. Your Master just called. He won't be home for another two hours. If you save your strength you could try that again. It might impress him enough to let some slack in the rope around your neck. Even if it does, you'll pay in other ways, deary. Huh, ha, ha." Then the dead air again, just noise. I'm crushed. She just wore the fight out of me, or, more to the point, she let me do it to myself. I can't any longer use both feet to stand. It just hurts too much. So I'm left to swap foot to foot until he comes in. This in turn doubles the pressure, instead of my weight balanced evenly on both sets of toes all my weight now rests on just one set. I shift my weight foot to foot. I shift more and more often. If she had just left me alone I'd have made the next two hours. Right now I don't know if I'll last the next ten minutes. Bitch! Oh, Oh, I've got to stop thinking like that. It's what got me into trouble in the first place. Please, help! I can't make it. "Oh, please, Mistress," I try thinking out loud, "I'll never show myself to be cross or angry again. I'll do anything you say, anything at all, just please loose the rope around my neck, please." Then I feel it. No, it can't be. She couldn't. She wouldn't. Aiiieeee, she is. Ahhhhh, she just turned on a vibrator and is holding it to the hood of my clit. In- stantly, I arouse. My nipples become instantly tight and erect and the scent of my own lubrication fills one of the two senses left to me. It arouses me further, and I'm willing to bet, arouses her too. She's using the other sense to toy with me. While holding the vibrator to the hood over my clit she is absent-mindedly licking at my nipples, occasionally nipping at them too. The push-pull is going to kill me. I want so desperately to chase the orgasm. It's right there, I know I'm close! If I do I'll faint, my heels will touch floor and I'll hang myself! She knows it: what a total bitch! I suddenly hear the cackle again, and then as if she read my mind she utters "Cast Iron Bitch, wench, make sure you have it straight," then just the noise! She doesn't believe I'll kill myself to come. Unfortunately, she's probably right. Oh, she's moved the vibrator. She's rubbing it between my pussy lips. It feels so good there. "Oh, please," I try to think out loud again, "oh, please, Mistress, push it in there. Oh no, oh no, Mistress, take it out. Oh, please, oh please, push it in. Oh no, oh no, take it out." She's playing with me, strumming the strings of my lust, making the music of my ill-used soul. She's stopped, I think. Wait, what's that? She's wrapping it around my waist. My chastity belt, it's my chastity belt. She's pushing her hand between my thighs. She's pulling the end through. She's putting it back in! It's running! Oh, no! She's going to lock it in place! I don't think I can stand it! Can I withstand the sensual assault? I've got to. I've just got to. She's made it a contest. How long can I endure? The prize may be my life. Is she that callous? Would she risk that much: my very life? Stupid question! She's already risking it. I've got to concentrate. I've got to resist. Aaaughnnn! Got ... to ... resist! Aaaugh! Aaaaoooooooh! It seems I've come back to my senses, at least enough to think about taking stock. I'm in a new position. I don't remember being repositioned. I was really out of it. My ankles are rebound crossed left over right. I'm kneeling. Obviously the tether about my neck has been released. It seems it's used to connect my wrist tether to my ankle tether, for my body arches back because of it. My calves cramp badly, and my open thighs are on the verge. The chastity belt is still in place and my friend warmly buzzes away beneath. Nipple clips have been applied and a small vibrator hangs between exciting them. Oooh! I'm feeling chilled! It seems really cold and clammy. I could be experiencing shock. Oooh, auuughn! "Wakies! Wakies, oh useless wench! Your master returns, and he has new attire for you to don." I hear through the earcups the door swing open. "Hi, honey, how's our infractious wench? Have you been punishing her properly?" asked my master. "I've tried to stop short of total abuse. She near killed herself to come earlier. I don't think she managed, though she fainted dead away. I had to cut her quickly loose, lest she strangle herself. I've tried to rearrange her in at least as flattering a form while she relaxes. What do you think?" "Pretty," he allowed. "I especially like the sheen from perspiration you managed to raise. It seems she's had quite a workout. Do you think you've prepared her? Will she give us any further trouble?" "I've kept her on a hot simmer since the strangulation incident. It would take nothing more than your caress to bring on an earth-shattering orgasm just now. Won't you try?" "If true, I'd like to see that. All right, let's try her!" Then noise. To leave me in anticipation they cut out the sound so I won't hear him coming. It has the desired affect. I long for Master's touch, now. I do so hope he will release me and I am determined to do anything that will please him to gain it. In the end it is just as mistress has predicted. The rough handling, the constant stimulation, the general hostile atmosphere, conspires to keep me on sexual edge. He cups a breast and kneads it gently and a moment latter I am over the edge, on my way, and trembling with delight. He grabs a handful of my mane, rolls my head back and to the right and starts planting kisses, oh so softly, slowly, working his way toward my neck. The stars fill my vision, even with my eyes closed tightly. I go limp with lust. The warm tinglies invade down there. The orgasm rocks me back so; I faint dead away at the very moment he kisses "that" spot on my neck. I come back to my senses to find myself at the same level of sexual tension. I know I'm badly abused, but frankly, right now, this horny, I care not. I just want him to touch me again! "Please, Master," I think out loud, "do that again. Just touch me, please. I'm your devoted slave, I'll do anything at all you ask, anything at all, just touch me like that again, please, Master!" But, it seems my pleas go unanswered. My anticipation wanes not. I cry out my expectations around the gag, "Meef, meef?" Then, blessed silence. I hope he'll speak. "I'm yours, Master," I think, "command me." I hear his breath. Then I feel it, hot, heavy, on my shoulder. I turn my head left, and tip it back, to allow access to my neck. "Uhm, Danielle, you smell delicious," I hear in my right ear. His voice alone sets my abdomen aflame. "Will you allow me to take a bite, Danielle?" I nod my affirmation furiously. My climax approaches. "Very good, dear. Danielle, before I send the wave crashing on you again, I need reassurances for myself, and for your mistress." Instantly I nod, thinking, "OK! OK! Anything you ask, anything at all! Just touch me!" "Wait, Danielle, before you agree to anything further, you must know to what you agree." I stop nodding to listen. "Good girl! First, am I your master?" I nod. "Am I a good master, Danielle?" I nod again. "Well would you say I'm fair and kind, Danielle?" I nod. His proximity, his breath, drives me crazy with desire. "Just touch me, Master. Your caress will melt my will like butter. I'll let you kill me, if you kill me with that touch!" Then, as if he read my mind. "No, not yet, Danielle. I'll not touch you and send you into those lovely spasms until we're through this. Pay attention Dear One." His words sooth my mind, but not the lust. "Now being fair, you must agree that what mistress has told you, at my direction, about your behavior is true, is it not?" I nod. "Do you believe you serve us any better than your Mistress believes you have?" I pause, then negatively shake my head. "Well, then, your Mistress insists that what she's done here is a fair shot at punishment and she is willing to be lenient further, but, Danielle, punishment is simply not discipline. Further she insists you must be disciplined for your transgressions. So I decided, over the next ten weeks you are to suffer discipline at her hand. It is she who bears the brunt of your intransigence, so she has the right to punish you. Danielle, do you agree to submit, at my behest, to satisfy my wife's requirement for your discipline?" I nod. "Even if she is the one to choose the way in which you're disciplined?" I pause. "Danielle, I could just let her take over your pending orgasm!" Instantly, I shake my head, "No! No! Master please, don't let her near me." He continues, "Very well, Danielle, but, you must agree to discipline at her hand weekly even knowing she selects the mode of that discipline." I pause, but only a moment before I nod, relenting. What is there to do, it's his wife, she will be denied nothing. He'll let her do it anyway whether I agree or not, just to punish me for disagreeing. "Very good, Danielle. Now, as for what I want. I've been out shopping today. I purchased a few pieces of very pretty attire for you to wear and over that same period of time I'd like you to model the attire for me. It's fair to say I don't want to see you again after this unless you wear these pretty things for me. They are foundation garments so it may seem I won't see them all the time anyway. This is true, but, trust me, I'll know you aren't wearing them. Will you agree, Danielle, to wear these garments, to please me, Dear Heart? If you'll agree, I'll let you come." Well, by now all this talk and no action have my fire waning and I am afraid we'll never get back to my orgasm. All he wants is for me to wear pretty lingerie? What is the problem? Without thinking too much about it, I nod affirmatively. This is the second big mistake in as many days, though I don't know it yet. "Very, well, Danielle. Thank you for wanting to please me, Dear Heart." He cups and kneads my left breast, playing with the nipple with his thumb. He touches me down there, rubbing between my navel and sex, and instantly my flame is high, and my blood is just about to boil. To bring the boil to full and rolling he starts planting kisses from the outside of my shoulder to my collarbone. Then he licks from there to under my ear where he nibbles intermittently just to see to it I come for what must be ten minutes of real time, but seems endless to me. This time I don't faint and it is delicious. Finally I come down exhausted and just lay in his arms. He holds me for several more minutes before he speaks again. "Now dear, to let you out so you can wear your new pretty things. Bear in mind your punishment continues while your discipline begins, Danielle." I find this confusing, but in the afterglow I let it go. I think they will start with the hood, but that is not to be. They instead cut the tether between wrist and ankle and my weight springs up and forward at the instant release of the tension. Unfortunately, unprepared, I loose my balance and fall forward until the tether between wrist and post stop my forward motion in opposition to my forward momentum. The sudden reapplication of tensions and my entire weight thrown forward place an incredibly painful pull on my wrists and elbows to the point I think them rent asunder. The cry of pain escapes around the gag and through my nostrils and I'm sure is heard 'round the room. Master immediately pushes back on my shoulders in relief. I shake with sobs caused by the wracking pain. "I'm so sorry dear," I hear Master speak, "I didn't know that would happen. It was entirely accidental." With his body holding me upright, my breasts pressing to his strong, ample chest, the fire re-lights. Master reaches behind and cuts the wrist tether. Laying the knife down at our side and placing his strong hands upon each shoulder, he gently lowers me to the floor. All the while he is muttering epithets aimed at Mistress. There he picks up the knife and uses it to cut the loop around my wrists loose. Slowly he adjusts my arms until they lay out in front of me at right angles to each other. I turn my head to the side, the better to breathe, and continue to sob. He lets me rest there for some time. When the pain sub-sides I bring my hands together to rub the pain from my wrists. This he allows for some minutes. When he thinks me rested he checks my joints and bones to know all is whole. He rubs loose my shoulders. He then snaps on and locks my wrist restraints. To these he attaches a two-foot spreader bar and to this a rope. Slowly he pulls the rope attached to the block and pulley and lifts me up and back until I am on my feet. He takes stock of me for a moment and continues to pull until my toes just touch down. My feet are bound back by the ankle to post tether. This he releases with the knife a moment latter and catches me above the knees to guide me forward. At this time he shoes me with six-inch heels locking them in place with what I was later to find to be a four-inch diameter ring between. I am now most severely hobbled and back to teetering on my toes. Master adjusts the block and tackle again taking up the slack from my release and seeing to it I stand with my towering heels up off the floor. "Sorry, Dear One. The shoes are Mistress' affectation, not my own. She insists. You must wear them for the duration. Relax Dear One. Let your body relax and stretch out. After that horrible ordeal with the ropes you must stretch to relax." "Here is the warm water you requested, Master, and the soap, and sponge," Mistress' voice chimed. "Very well kitten. Will you give our charge a sponge bath? Make her feel warm and cared for, won't you? A lot of lather and gentle strokes of the sponge," asks Master. This makes me a bit skittish, the Mistress' torments earlier setting me on edge at the thought of her touching me now. However, in short order mistress has me purring with pleasure. Her gentle kneading, lathering the soaps she applies to me, the gentle strokes of the loofa to rinse it off, lingering spongiform caresses around my breasts, buttocks, and sex, all conspire to soon relax me entirely. Master adjusts the rope holding me up when my body has relaxed enough to allow my heels to touch floor. Mistress finishes her ministrations and they withdraw to allow me to relax further. They eventually close the communications and the static returns to my ear, but not so loud this time. It seems I wait a lifetime for what is to come. I believe they are trysting in the corner before my less than fully aware self and the thought of them copulating warms my loins and mind with jealousy. Eventually Master readjusts the rope one last time and I am left with the toes of my new shoes just barely touching. The sound comes back on and I hear feet shuffling and a low buzz is present all about the room. He bound up Mistress! By the sounds she is to suffer her own share of degradation, humiliation, and forced denial. I hear a murmur from behind an obviously ball-gagged mouth and have a secret smile at her expense when she cries out her frustration. I just hope I don't make it obvious behind my mummer's countenance. I hear Master rolling something across the floor in front of me. It stops and he walks across to from where he came and then back to me. "Now this may tickle just a bit going on, Dear One," says Master. "Bear up!" He approaches from my front and swings his arms around me to the back. When his arms sweep forward he encircles my waist and begins fastening what it is up the front. Whatever it is, as he closes the front it pushes my breasts up and together. It pinches some under my arms. Then he finishes the fastening down, down my sex, down my thighs to my knees. "There, Dear One, almost ready." Master then releases the straps on my discipline hood and the throbbing intensifies momentarily before sub- siding over several minutes. He loosens the laces at the back then slowly removes the hood. It's very bright and it takes a moment for my blinking eyes to adjust. When I do I catch sight of myself in the full-length floor mirror he rolled before me. My body is covered in slick silver over black fabric from just above my knees to just under my arms. My breasts are held up by a pair of contoured shelves in which they fit, leaving my nipples and now abundant cleavage exposed. The heels are covered in the same iridescent fabric. It is beautiful and if I get my matted hair cleaned up I might look quite beautiful in it. Almost as interesting as my new lingerie was the silvery flash I was seeing beyond it. Obviously Mistress fights some stress as the flashes are quite pronounced, but the mirror hides the nature of her torment from me. Despite her earlier torments of me I hope Master will relieve her soon as it is obvious she suffers badly. Master reaches up before me, drawing my attention and releases the excessive gag that has filled my mouth and throat for many hours. I gag a little as it moves but it is cleared quickly and I cough to clear the accumulation that formed behind it. I swallow to clear having no other way to dispose of it. I work my jaw back and forth just to ease the expected cramping and allow my mouth to close. Master positively hates a slack jaw and punishes it most severely. "Do not speak," he admonishes me. He walks behind me and makes adjustments to the garment he drapes on me. Then in one fast, smooth motion, he draws three feet of slack from what are laces on each side. This closes down the waist magically about three inches. I let out a squeak of surprise and gasp. "Too much, Dear Heart?" he asks. I whisper back, "Maybe too much at one time, Master? Please, continue as you please." "Very well, then." He repositions his hands so as to conserve what was drawn in. I look in the mirror and note my strangulated waist and the accentuated curve of my hip. I look in the mirror and catch his eye looking back. "Do you like it?" he queries. "It gives much definition to my waist and hips, but leaves my tits exposed, Master. I presume you have something in mind for them?" I query in reply. He answers, "Yes, and you'll soon see, Dear Heart, you'll soon see. Ready?" I nod in reply. We lock eyes in the mirror and he waits. Soon I sigh, and as I breathe out he draws in another three inches. Not expecting this I loose the recovery breath and become a little dizzy. He grabs me and holds me until I seemingly recover. "I think that is enough for a few minutes," he states quietly. " I'm going to lace down the girdle." He proceeds and my thighs are drawn tightly together, further exaggerating my hips. "We'll take a little break dear. If you allow I'll wash and dry your hair." He pulls up a chair and adjusts the block and tackle allowing me to lay back into it. My movement in the garment is limited and my posture is more one of supine recline. It does leave my head hanging over the back of the chair, perfect for washing, rinsing and blow-drying. Master does a superb job, as usual, and I otherwise totally relax losing track of time. When dry he gathers my hair and ties it up at the back of my head. "Done." He re-adjusts the block and tackle standing me up on my toes again. "Did you want to see what I have in mind for your breasts, Dear One?" "I'm not sure, Master. I realize I will eventually. Do you want to show me?" "Well, the two of you are just hanging around and I guess it couldn't hurt. We have to wait for you to catch up with your stays anyway." With this he walks to the mirror and reveals his handy work. By rolling it away he reveals Mistress, in her own very pretty garment with her waist drawn tighter than mine, caught in a web of glistening strings. She struggles still, and every awkward move she makes tugs at her. "Ingenious, isn't it? Any move of resistance pulls mercilessly at those nipples." My shocked response is, "Have mercy, Master." "Mercy, huh, did she show you any mercy? This is her punishment for taking excessive liberty with my property. Namely you," he replies. I look again. Hanging over Mistress' bosoms is a frame the purpose of which is to give leverage to pull at her nipples. The frame hangs out over her breasts and hanging from threads almost impossible to see at this distance is a large heavy block. The strings to the block don't seem to tug directly at her nipples though. There are four anchor points, one above her head, one in front of her feet and two more diagonally behind and to the outside of each ankle. Strings run in all directions between her ankles, her waist, her neck, her wrists, the anchor points, and of course her lovely purple distended nipples. "Oh, my. She looks to be in agony, Master." "She is Dear Heart, but trust me it is a sweet agony. Her nipples are now distended about six inches but before I release her in about fifteen minutes they'll be distended nearly ten. She's undoubtedly come at least six times already, and it is likely she'll come ten times more before the agony ends. She positively hates this form of torment so I use it to punish her. The wonder of the arrangement is that it doesn't matter what direction she moves, any movement creates a tension in one string and a corresponding slack in another string. The tension is employed to further distend the nipples, the slack is taken up by the weight hanging from the front, thus reloading the 'trap', so to speak. Accelerating the weight causes it to become a tensioner after it drops a few inches, so as it swings it too distends the nipples, but, only if she moves. She held very still for the first ten minutes or so." I visibly shivered. "What happened then, Master?" "Why I turned on the butterfly over her clit which only minutes before she volunteered to lock in place under her chastity belt. She thought it a nice diversion for what she thought would be a light flogging. Only after she locked it in place and I sufficiently bound her so I controlled did I announce my intention." "Oh, Master, she looks to be suffering so, but look at the feint of a smile which plays across her lips," I exclaim. "I told you dear, sweet agony. If it comes to the point she can stand it no longer she need only break the strings, there are only two you see, but, if she breaks the strings to escape I won't turn the butterfly off until morning. I denied her the expectation of coming for the duration of your discipline, as an extension of her discipline for starting you off so irresponsibly. So, tonight is all she writes of orgasmic pleasures for quite sometime to come. The choice is hers'. She may have as many orgasms in the time it takes me to bind you into your pretty things as she can muster. The butterfly is not enough stimulation for her to come. However, it does keep her quite flush with expectation. When you are bound into your pretty things I'll go turn off the butterfly ending the clitoral stimulation and she can break the strings to escape. If it turns out to be too much she can break the strings before I return, but I'll not turn off the butterfly before the battery fails. That will leave a long period of enhanced frustration just before a very long dry spell." He continues, "The way I figure, I have no reason to deny her these last pleasures before the end. She has no reason for me to hurry back to end them. No real harm comes until we reach her proven limits of nipple distension and I constructed the bondage so that won't be exceeded. Are you in a hurry for me to reign in your waist the next three inches?" "No, Master, it seems I can barely breathe now!" I reply. He allows me to watch her agony/ecstasy for some time. She continues to twitch, jerk, and jockey for a more comfortable position, but every time she shudders or twitches the block falls and her nipples distend. Breaking the silence and distracting me from my watch, he says, "Well, Dear One, your Mistress approaches the limits of her endurance. Exhaustion will soon become the deciding factor in the balance of torment she experiences. In order for her to have a chance of success I must release her soon. So, we must finish with you." I reply "As you wish, of course," and turn my attention back to my watch, fascinated; transfixed. He works at my sides this time, taking in laces on the right, the left, the right, and the left again. I breathe now with utmost difficulty, taking in breaths in short gasps. Only over a matter of several minutes does this ease somewhat, but even then is troubling. He holds a red ball up to my mouth and I open it with trepidation to speak, "Master, please forgive my outburst. May I speak?" "This is so unusual that I expect it is important, you may," he replies. Still staring at mistress, transfixed, I beg using my most pleading voice, "Master, I must know." "What must you know, Dear Heart?" he queries. "Master, I must know what it is to stand in her place. Please, I beg of you, let me be her!" "Dear Heart, I worried you'd not ask." came his quiet, even reply. "Now?" "Please, Master, please! Especially if it pleases you that I should!" He queried further "Would you have me treat you as I treat her?" "Within your most considered estimations of my endurance and limits, and Master?" "Yes, Dear Heart?" he asks. "If it is not too much trouble, could she be made to stand here, gagged and blindfolded, while you put me to the test? I want that she should hear my whimpers of pleasure." He inquires, "A little revenge, my Sweet?" "Retribution, Master, though I realize it is a fine line. The results might please you as much as the idea pleases me, and it will light my way through the test." "I see," he replies, and after a momentary pause, "I see merit in the idea, and I like the subtlety. It will be so." "Oh, thank you, Master, for allowing me to know." He holds up the ball and I open my mouth to accept it. He turns my head straight and level and applies a stiff collar, lacing it up the back. The collar has extensions at the back of my head and under my chin. As the laces draw tighter my head tips back slightly, my lower jaw pushes up trapping the ball between my teeth, and it squeezes my neck and pulls my head up off my shoulders making me light headed. I must now look down my nose to see Mistress suffering across the room. I step back slightly, as the bondage allows, easing my view. Master works closing the flaps over the lacings and applies small padlocks to the flaps. I realize this may be as much in my defense as it is a denial of release. He adjusts the shoulder straps pulling my shoulders back as severely as I've ever known. He releases the block and tackle and lowers my arms. Disconnecting the device he attaches the center of the spreader bar to a fastener at my waist. Using thin braided tapes he binds my fingers and thumbs together on each hand immobilizing them. He uses one of the tapes to bind my wrists, hands palm to palm, behind me. He then slips my hands inside this leather restraint closing it over my hands, around my wrists, and begins lacing it up toward my elbows. As the laces are extracted my elbows are drawn closer and closer together until they're joined. Master ties off the laces and closes the flap over them. Using small locks he denies release and fixes the end of my bound hands to my waist in back. "Done," he pronounces. Now, I turn toward the mirror to see and this is the picture of me. My hair, washed, brushed and combed, is gathered and pinned in a large knot at the back of my head. This great iridescent silver and black leather collar looks as the mouth of a grand sea beast attempting to swallow me whole. All that is left of me is the area above a line from the knot of hair running round both sides of my head just under my ear and along the jaw line ending at the front just below my lower lip. Lodged in my own mouth is the large red ball and it appears I myself am attempting to swallow whole something entirely too large. As if out of gill flaps, my arms thrust out revealing my shoulders, now sprung back to reveal my breasts, globular prominences, thrust forward and jutting out. The smooth iridescence descends from under arms to my knees and has me gripped tightly in a stranglehold from which there can be no escape, a hold so close and stiff it appears I fit to the beasts shape, taking on its sleek, hydrodynamic form. Below, it appears I thrust free of the body splitting the monster. My feet acquire the beast's fishy form and extend as though I swim through the air. All this as if I'd been swallowed whole then burst out. My breath coming in short gasps due to the constriction makes it seem I just exploded through the surface to catch it. The arches in my back and shoulders create a round and aquatic form at which I stare distractedly. "Dear Heart," Master whispers, "it takes some doing to walk from here to where you are bound. I go to help Mistress. You start your shuffle and, yes, you are beautiful." "Mankvf" I reply. It is awkward to say the least to take but one-inch steps. It works better if I don't overstep and what figures to be three quarter-inch steps has me moving most quickly. As I shuffle I watch Master remove a chain from his pocket with a ring in the middle and two monstrous nipple clips at the ends and clip them on Mistress' nipples close to the bases, then tug at a string distending her nipples more. She lets out a mournful shrill animal cry in protestation. He works his index fingers into the string winding it around them. He lays his thumbs over where the string runs finger to finger and snaps, breaking it. Holding his fingers together he slowly releases the tension in one until mistress' nipples are relieved. He remove his thumbs and the weight crashes to the floor with a dull thud. Mistress cries around her gag, "Nhhhooooooooohhhh!" It is pitiful. Her nipples, trapped by both sets of clips, are blue, large, and as Master brushes past them I see very tender. Master helps her off the short triangular pedestal she stood on for so long her stilettos left indentations in the wood. Master picks up the end of the string hanging from above and winds it around his open palm retrieving it. When he collects it all he slips it off his hand cuts it twice with a pocketknife and throws it in a refuse bin. Turning to Mistress, he removes the clips at the ends of her nipples, leaving the ones at the bases, and lets blood in. She shudders, mewls through the gag, and turns away in pain. When she stands straight he pulls the harness over her head and locks a finger in the binding ring at her waist. He slowly guides her a safe distance away, leaving her to come to me. Upon arriving he lays the harness over me. He pulls my discipline hood out of a rear pocket and drags it over the top of my head stopping me. Drawing the laces down firmly he proceeds to buckle the straps and after adjusting the harness again, locks it in place. He goes a moment but returns with what I presume is the weight, which he hangs off the front of the harness. Cantilevered as it is, it seems very heavy and leaves me second thoughts for what I volunteer to do. He hooks a finger in the binding ring at my waist and guides me to my position on the pedestal, turning me to proper orientation. He then leaves me. I presume he goes to bind mistress into my old position. Returning, he wets my left nipple, then my right and blows air to make them stand-up. They comply and with the vibrator still locked in place and operating, re-ignite my flame of love. Master clamps the ends with what I'm certain are the huge clips he used previously on Mistress. They hurt and I howl in pain. My pangs of titillation nearly allow release then and there. Fortunately they only whet the fires of my passions. He releases the lock tying my hands to my waist at the back. Then the binding begins in earnest. I feel him working, rather than hear him for the white noise in my ears. He starts at the bottom and works up, out, and around from there. It seems interminably long before he even comes close to my exposed breasts, but when the time comes my trepidation builds and I think it too soon. Quickly enough he threads the strings through the harness and stops. The white noise goes and I hear my Master's voice. "The cusp of a seminal moment, Dear One. No one before Mistress has dared this bondage, though many were asked. As you are told, Mistress prefers never to experience this again and does only when she is particularly careless or obstinate. I say this once and I know you can't respond so don't try. The object of this exercise is not to move. Saying this I'll now finish the bondage placing your nipples in tension, then release the weight. Prepare yourself." At this time he laces the string from the outside of the harness through the rings on the ends of my nipple clips. Then out to the bar underneath. Crossing the strings right to left, left to right, he threads them through again evening the outward and inward tensions causing the nipples to extend straight out, away from my chest. This pulls the harness into my chest and seats it firmly. Crossing them over again he threads them back through the bar at the top and takes up all the available slack line. I feel things tightening down, the string tension increasing, my movement taken away until all is tense: the string, my body, and my nerves. Apparently satisfied, Master ties the strings together and releases them, relaxing them just slightly. He then stops. I think to step back and admire his work; my greatly stiffened body structure. After what seem several minutes he grunts in approval. "I'm going to turn on Mistress' audio so she can hear you ‘enjoying’ yourself. That means I'm going to turn yours off. You may be pleased to know the butterfly over her clit still excites her though she'll not know enough stimulation after the recent 'rough handling' to get off. For both of us you are allowed, neigh expected, to be vocal about your tribulations under this duress. Loud as you want is quite all right with me. Enjoy if you can, Dear Heart." Then the white noise. After several moments the weight at the front is first relieved then attached again and pulls my nipples hard. I cry out in immediate distress, "Auuuughhhhhhh!" It hurts, I come, barely able to stand. My weight shifts forward ever so slightly and the slack is taken up immediately while the string pulls my nipples microscopically further away from my tits. "Ooooohhhhhhhh!" I exclaim. I find no need for prompting to be vocal. I now know the heights of helplessness, frustration, and hopeless abandon. The stimulation causes me to twitch, which in turn pulls at the string, pulling at my nipples, stimulating my sex, which causes me to twitch... you see the circuit. I come intermittently at first, but hard, and they roll over me like steamrollers. Soon they come closer together and then it turns into a continuous stream orgasm. One piles on the other, which piles on the next. All the time the string tension gets tighter, my freedom of movement is geometrically restricted, while my movements create ever- greater stimulation, which seems to build exponentially. After some time my orgasms roll into each other so closely it seems one continuous come. At this point my struggle to remain motionless is first in mind. "Oh, oh, oh, that hurts, Stand still!" becomes a mantra. Producing any further tension now just plain hurts. I stop momentarily and enjoy the orgasm only to lose my "Stay still!" train of thought. I relax, of course and rock just a little until the added tension brings home to me the mantra again. I'm helpless to stop the circuit of pain, and totally frustrated at losing concentration to stand still. Soon it becomes plain that I'll not control the pain, the orgasm, or myself and even give up hope of mitigation. Helpless, frustrated, and hopeless, just as a saucy slave wench ought to be. At this point, this great long vibrator works its way round the front of my cervix and jams itself comfortably onto my G-spot and the whole world, what little there is of it now, turns dreamy. Immediately a sense of supreme satisfaction and total distraction overcome me and I melt. "Oh, what a feeling!" is the only thing in my mind until my knees give out, just a little, and the tension increases beyond my threshold of pain tolerance. Not thinking I stand back up. "Aiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeya!" I push past the ball in my mouth. Momentarily the pain chases away the warm fuzzy feeling. Then it hits - the orgasm of a lifetime. It rocks my world, curls my toes, and leaves me mindless. My vagina squeezes up and down on the vibrator so hard my natural lubrication launches off its end past my chastity belt, making me totally wet and sticky under there. I don't care! I relax frozen in place while it washes over me in endless waves. I feel a tug at my nipples again and am certain I did not move! "Naaaaaaaaaaooooooooohhhhhhhh!" I screamed at no one in particular. Then nipple clips are applied at the bases, near the areola, and the string is snapped, the tension released. Someone, undoubtedly Master, holds me upright from the front with his arms under mine in a bear grasp. I'm thankful for the frame protecting my now unbelievably sensitive nips. I melt yet again and rely on Master to support me (a job he does all too easily, for which I'm thankful). When I can put my feet back under me I stand and master releases me. Master collects up the string, I feel it drawing through all the anchor points. Then a short pause and he lifts the frame off me. Then the noise abates and his voice, his wonderful voice, "Seems you enjoy this, Dear Heart. Let me help you off the pedestal." He hooks a finger in the binding ring at my waist again and guides me off. He un-straps my discipline hood and loosens the laces, then lifts the hood over my head. The light is bright and my blinking eyes adjust only after a minute or so. The last of my Earth-shattering orgasm dies away. "Uhm! Uhm!" I clamor at the loss, dejected. Master, walks behind and re-attaches my hands to the binding ring in the back with the padlock he used earlier. The monster vibrator continues to buzz merrily away as I now fully note the thickening viscosity of my excretions on my thighs. Master comes to the front, hooks his finger into the binding ring at the front, and guides me back to the post again. There Mistress is bound via a chain around the post locked on to it by the padlock master also hooked through the ring in the chain between her nipple clips. Master unlocks the padlock and does the same for me. The heavy weight chain pulls hard at the clips and our nipples, forcing us both to turn and face the post side by side. Master walks out in front of us and addresses us. "The two of you have one more painful humiliation to live through. I must prepare." He wrestles pillowcases over our heads and pulls the nipple clamps from the front of my nipples. Our heads uncovered, we hear what happens but dare not move for fear of yanking at our pained nips. He comes in the door, he goes out the door. The open door chills us and we shiver. Finally, prepared, he comes back to us. He releases me first and using the bonding ring again guides me outside, up a short ramp and stops me. "I will guide your feet." He grabs behind my right heel saying "Lift. Forward slowly. Down slowly. Got you. Good. Now the left. Up. Good. Forward. Down. Great." Then he closes a cover over my toes and I'm immobilized. Foot Stocks! It's cold. I shiver in the night air. Soon he guides Mistress out and guides her the same way he guided me. I hear the cover slam shut and the application of padlocks. "Click, click." "Now," he says, "to let each of your tortured twins free. First right." "Aieeeeeeee!" in unison. "Then left." "Aaaaauugh!" in unison. "Now, for the hoods. First left," Mistress. "Then right," me. We stand before a very large oscillating fan aimed up at us from about waist level. Into the front grill are tied hair ribbons. The fan points directly at our breasts and tortured nipples. We panic, Mistress and I, and attempt to move, but, foot stocks anchor us and our restraints bind us so there is nowhere to go. "Now ladies, it is a clear night and quite chilly. You can imagine that that fan will make you both freeze like Popsicles! However, I insist you must endure at least two hours of further torment in this manner. I make one concession. You may decide when to start." At this Master moves around behind us and clips something between the rear binding ring of my costume and the rear binding ring of her's. "Either of you may start the fan by simply swinging your hips away from your partner. It might be interesting to know who will start the fan. Alas, it seems I'm ill fated to see such sport for I'll be in the sleeping bag, lieing in the hammock over there, sleeping. The longer you wait to start, the more likely you are to catch your death of exposure. Of course it is hard on those ill-used nipples to chill them down, make them sensitive, and stimulate them with the brushing of ribbons, especially so soon after your previous abuse! Oh, by the way, it's just three hours till dawn when you both are visible from the road. Delicious! HA!" He walks away muttering, "Got to hand it to those Internet stories writers," and Mistress and I watch with following eyes as he unrolls the bag and climbs in, then lays back in the hammock, head on the pillow. "Which way do the two of you think that oscillating fan will turn on start-up? Who catches the air first? Too bad, I'll not see. Ha, ha, ha, har, har har! Night ladies!" END Well, what do you think? Would you like to read more of Danielle and her torments? Do you think the Cast Iron Bitch should get her comuppance? Write to me and let me know if I should continue the story-line at caitmccarren@yahoo.com ************************************************************ * * * Implied * * Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, * * And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd, -- * * Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, * * And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay. * * * * Milton's Paradise Lost, book iv, Line 307. * * * * Something to say from the submissive's point of view? * * Hard to find the "right" words? Want it in a story? * * Tell me about it by mail at caitmccarren@yahoo.com. * * * ************************************************************