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CH 23
My diversions with Lord and Lady L were pleasant and erotic, but they occurred infrequently. Most of the time I lived an ordinary life of school and work. My sexual needs were fulfilled by Bob and usually sufficed, until the need for serious torture became too compelling, then I’d go to Denise or Mary.
Then I rediscovered MAC.
I ran in to him at a movie theater. He was with his family so I pretended not to know him. He saw me, smiled, and winked conspiratorially. The next day I got a call from Mary. MAC had called her at the store and asked for me. She gave me his number.
I called MAC and told him that I chose not to rent myself out as a slave anymore. He was disappointed but understood. We talked for a long time, and I found it pleasant to talk to a man freely about my fetish. He invited me to meet him for lunch ‘just as friends’ and I accepted.
MAC and I talked about everything and anything and oddly, sex and bondage didn’t come up. We hit it off and recognized one another as kindred spirits. Mom later said that he and I were from the same tribe. We met for lunch several times. He was always a gentleman, but let me know that he wanted me. I told him a hundred times that I wouldn’t let him torture me for money. He always came back at me smiling and unrepentant and told me that he intended to keep on asking.
I had to admit that I liked the attention he gave me and it was refreshing to talk about bondage openly. MAC was (and still is) devoted to his wife, but she has never been in the scene. He made it clear that he would never leave her or hurt her, but he had needs in that part of his life that she was unable to fill.
He laid suit to me. He sent flowers and gave me small but thoughtful gifts. He called to chat and we met for lunch regularly. I decided that I was going to submit to him, but chose to play hard to get as long as I could. He knew this and enjoyed the game. I held out for weeks, but finally told him that he could have me.
We met at Mary’s dungeon.
I told MAC that he could do anything he wanted to me, except pay me. I was his slave for the day. He gave me a hug so warm and comforting that I cried.
MAC stripped me naked and tied my hands behind my back. He played with my pussy for half an hour, never letting me cum. I was trembling like a bowl of jello and begging for release, but he seemed to know exactly how close he could bring me to coming., then stop. Talk about torture! I finally sank to the floor and wouldn’t get up. That brought a terrific whipping. MAC is a warm and caring man, but he is still a master and when I don’t obey him I get punished. I writhed and whimpered on the floor as he whipped me with a thin wicked whip, then finally struggled to my feet. He wasn’t finished punishing me so I had to stick my breasts forward and count the blows while he whipped them. My boobs hurt like fire and I had a delicious orgasm.
He led me around the dungeon on a leash , hung me by my wrists, whipped every inch of my body, spanked me, made me crawl on all fours. I had to sit up and beg like a dog, roll on my back, whimper and whine and bark. And I had a dozen orgasms. When the session was over and we were exhausted, MAC held me on his lap. We sat for a long time, saying nothing.
MAC and I became true lovers. Our lovemaking was bondage and torture, but it suited us perfectly. No romantic trysts for us. Our getaways were to a dungeon, our caresses were the sting of his whip. He loved me the way he needed and I wanted. He became my closest male friend and still is to this day.
I didn’t tell MAC about Bob for a while, but when I did he wasn’t jealous or angry. He understood that Bob was my sex toy when he was unavailable. He even felt sorry for Bob that he had only a physical relationship with me. MAC listened to me, talked to me and understood me, and if he hadn’t been married I would have moved Heaven and Earth to become his wife. At first I was jealous of MAC’s wife, but quickly outgrew that. He and I have something wonderful and I am too grateful for what we have to ruin it over jealousy.
I told Jill about MAC and she was predictably dismayed that I was involved with a married man. But she saw that I was determined and over the years she has accepted MAC’s place in my life. I’ve introduced them and they get along just fine. When they are together at a dinner or party at my place they behave very properly and pretend that he isn’t my master and she doesn’t know that he is. I tease Jill that she ought to be tied and tortured by a man, and offer to arrange it with MAC. She always declines, but once or twice I’ve caught her looking at him in a calculating way.
MAC and I have the most intense bondage sessions possible. In the beginning I felt the way to prove my love was through some extreme act of submission. I told him that he was free to do anything to me he wants. I even offered to let him brand me, which he gallantly declined. I almost got a tattoo stating that I was his personal slave. Mary, Denise and Jill all hit the roof when I told them, and luckily they convinced me not to do it. Fortunately I learned that proof of love is not in a single act, but consists of years of intimacy and trust. Our relationship burns long and steadily every day. It glows red when he chains me, and explodes to white hot when his whip cracks against my body. Since nineteen seventy nine that warmth has never cooled.
Like Lord and Lady L, MAC and I have traveled occasionally. He’s taken me to Las Vegas and to Mexico and to a wonderful tiny cabin in the mountains of southern Colorado. We’ve had the most wonderful times together, in chains and out.
Mary, Denise and Jill, and other people are good friends, but MAC is the love of my life. I am ashamed to confess that I love him more and feel closer to him than I did to my husband.
MAC has never been judgmental or jealous of my other relationships. He knew that I went to Lord and Lady L and attended bondage parties with Denise and Mary, and has never complained.
He was fascinated to hear my stories about self bondage on the farm and about my mother’s activities. He’s met Mom many times (she just thinks he’s a close friend, she doesn’t know he’s my master) and has always treated her like a lady. He’s never let on that he knows about her own bondage, although I caught him look at her appraisingly once. I quietly asked what he was thinking.
“I’m thinking what your mother looks like naked and bound,” he whispered.
“She looks damn sexy,” I told him. “I’ve seen her.”
“Do you think she’d be interested in a nice whipping?”
“She might,” I replied. “I’ll ask her if you like, but I thought I was your main slave girl.”
“You’re my only slave girl.” he said, giving my hand a quick squeeze. I could have cried with happiness.
I later asked MAC about his remark. He told me from the time he had become master he had not taken another slave. I believed him then, and I believe him now. But I sometimes wish that I could arrange for him to torture Mom. I love them both and know that they would have a wonderful time together. She would be the only woman I would not be jealous about.
CH 24
I graduated from college and Mom surprised me by taking me on a trip to Italy and Greece. I didn’t think she could have afforded it, but it turned out that she had been making some very good money leasing water rights from the farm. The trip was wonderful and we had the greatest time. I loved every minute. The trip included a three day cruise in the Aegean Sea. I’d never been aboard a large ship and I was fascinated by it. I tried to explore every inch of the vessel and wandered in to some areas that were off limits to passengers. I was politely shooed away when that happened, but I did manage to find my way in to the crews quarters. I was surprised at the tiny windowless cabins that the crew lived in, but for some reason that triggered another erotic slavery fantasy. I told Mom about it.
“What do you think they do to stowaways?” I asked her later.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “Why?’
“I saw where the sailors live,” I said. “The conditions aren’t very luxurious. The captain ought to provide more perks for the sailors.”
“Such as?”
“It occurred to me that if they caught a female stowaway they ought to put her in chains and give her to the crewmen.”
“Oh God,” she laughed. “I should have known sex was involved.”
“Just think Mom, We could stow away, get caught, then spend the rest of the cruise chained up and being screwed by all those cute Greek sailors.”
“Why limit it to one cruise?” she laughed. “Why not make your captivity longer? Say a year or two.”
“Ok,” I said. “Here’s the scenario. We get caught and stripped naked.”
“Why would they strip us?” Mom asked.
“To search for contraband,” I said. “Then they put us in chains and take us to the captain on the bridge.”
“Walking us naked all the way through the ship, right?”
“Right. Then the captain puts us on trial, right them and there and sentences us to five years sexual servitude.”
“Five years is a long time,” Mom observed smiling.
“We can handle it,” I said. “Anyway, they lead us away and take us to the brig way down in the bottom of the ship. The brig has a big cell with two beds and they chain us to the beds, Then the crew are permitted to come fuck us when they are off duty.”
“Not bad,” Mom said.
“Then when we aren’t being screwed by sailors that take us out of the cell in chains and make us mop the decks. And when we don’t do a proper job they tie us to the mast and whip us while the whole crew and all the passengers watch.”
“You really need help,” Mom laughed.
Back in Denver I found a nice job with good pay. I could have afforded a nicer apartment, but decided to stay where I was, I didn’t want to give up my trysts with Bob.
Denise relayed another business proposition to me. I told her I wasn’t interested but she persisted.
“Wait until you hear about it,” she said.
“What is it?’
“It sort of a modeling job,” she said.
I shook my head. I had already been offered a number of modeling opportunities, but knew better. I didn’t want pictures of me naked and in bondage to appear in some magazine and come back to haunt me years later.
“Its not photography,” she persisted. “You’d be a subject for an engineering project.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“We’ve been contacted by this man who builds restraint devices,” she said. “That pillory over there, for example.”
I looked at the thing she was talking about. The store sold pillories, X crosses, even racks. I’ve been strapped to them in the back room. I’d never given a thought about who made them.
“So?’
“The guy is a retired engineer and mechanic and he’s got this idea that he wants to design and market high quality devices,” she said. “Only he wants to make them out of metal instead of wood. He needs a girl to build them around.”
“Oh?” That sounded interesting.
“I thought about you because you can tolerate bondage for longer than anyone I know.”
“Tolerate it? Hell, I love it,” I said. “The longer the better.”
“Stop bragging,” she laughed. “Anyway, the guy will pay you by the hour to come to his workshop and let him fit you into his creations. He swears that no sex will be involved.”
“What’s the fun in that?” I asked.
“Look, here’s his phone number, if you’re interested give him a call,” she said.
I was intrigued and called the engineer. He sounded nice on the phone and I agreed to meet with him.
I drove to a house in south Denver. It was actually in a very posh suburb called Cherry Hills Village. Everyone who lived there was a millionaire. I mean that literally.
The engineer’s name was Dale. He was in his sixties and had retired from a large airline. He was quite nice and courteous. He invited me in and we had coffee in his study. He told me that he was divorced and lived alone, and was in the bondage scene. I was quick to tell him that I would not participate in sexual bondage with him. He assured me that he understood that from Denise.
“I need your services as a study for my projects,” he told me. “You will be used to see if various restraining devices are workable and if adjustable machines perform correctly. It will involve being locked into theses things for long periods of time while I make adjustments or even mill new parts.”
I rather liked the idea of prolonged bondage.
“Am I to be naked?” I asked.
“Only if you choose,” he said. “I’ll be honest with you. I like to look at naked girls, but its not a requirement, and I won’t insist if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“We’ll see,” I shrugged.
“Let me show you my workshop,” he suggested.
I was impressed by his shop. It was in a large outbuilding and appeared to have every tool ever made. I saw a table saw, drill presses, welders, cut off saws and thousands of hand tools for metal and woodworking. The shop was meticulously organized and neat as a pin. He showed me his current project.
It was a metal pillory designed for women. It had a metal stock with head and hand holes, a long wide frame to support the slave’s body and adjustable bars that her ankles would be locked to. A metal dildo rose from a saddle atop the bar. A power cord was attached to a box at the base of the machine. A worm gear lay in a channel in the base and operated different mechanisms. The machine was a rough prototype, but the edges were curved and softened and the high degree of craftsmanship was apparent.
My pussy started to tingle the moment I saw the thing.
“How does it work?” I asked.
“The subject straddles the support frame then bends forward and places her neck and wrists in the holes,” Dale said. He touched a button and the upper half of the stock rose several inches. “Its spring loaded. Push the release button and it opens. Push down and the lock automatically engages and the subject is immobilized.” He pressed the stock down and it locked with a loud click.
My breathing rate went up a little.
“May I make a suggestion?” I asked.
“Certainly.”
“You’re designing this for women aren’t you? Calling them ‘subjects’ sounds so impersonal. Why not refer to them as slaves?”
He smiled broadly. “Good idea.”
“Well, I know I’d rather be called a slave,” I said coyly. “Not a subject.”
“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
“When can I start?” I asked.
“How about right now?’
As soon as I saw the pillory. I couldn’t wait to be locked into it.
Dale showed me a wash room off the shop. It was simply a sink and toilet, but the room was large and served as a dressing room for me. I changed to shorts and a tee shirt, hung my things on pegs and went out.
I stepped close to the pillory. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’m working on the leg restraints,” he said. “I want them to be adjustable in length for short or tall women and, , ,”
“Slaves,” I corrected him. “Not ‘subjects’, not ‘women’, slaves. The people placed in this will be slaves.”
“Do forgive me,” he laughed. “Yes, I want the leg bars to fit slaves with long legs and short legs. And I want to be able to change the angle of the slaves’ legs, up or down.”
“Can the slave be placed on her back?” I asked.
“Certainly,” he said.
“Nice.”
“Why don’t you get on,” he said. “Face down.”
I sat on the frame. The metal was cool against my thighs. I wiggled a second then leaned forward. I extended my hands through the holes and Dale guided my head into the larger opening. I lowered my chest onto the frame. Dale pushed it down until it rested against my neck and I felt the cool metal clamp smoothly over my neck and wrists. I couldn’t hold back a gasp of pleasure.
“Everything all right?” he asked. “Its not pinching you?”
“I’m fine.”
He pressed it the last quarter inch and the lock clicked. I almost came.
I wriggled around testing the thing. I was completely immobilized from my shoulders up. Dale gave me a moment.
“Ready now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
I lay immobilized in the pillory for two hours the first day. I felt snug and secure and sexy. Dale worked on the leg restraints and buckled my ankles in and out of them many times. His touch on my legs was impersonal and he took no liberties. (By the end of the day I was hoping he would.)
Ultimately the legs bars would be equipped with metal clamps, like manacles, but for testing purposes he used leather cuffs. They felt great, but I couldn’t wait to feel the cool metal on my ankles. The support frame was eight inches wide and even though my ankles were locked, my crotch was still open. I never felt so helpless or feminine. At the end of the session dale told me he was going to test the motor. He was working on the back and forth mechanism.
I was lying with my legs bent at a comfortable angle. Dale pushed a button and I felt the machine vibrate faintly. My ankles were pulled slowly forward until they were almost at my crotch. My knees were forced apart and I felt like a frog. Very sexy.
“Feel ok?” Dale asked.
“I sure do,” I said. “Is it as far as it goes?”
“No, but I didn’t want to over bend your knees,” he said. “Or jam your body against the stock.”
“Lets see how much I can take,” I suggested.
He ran the motor again, in short increments. My knees bent more and my shoulders were pushed against the stock. It hurt my shoulders, but it was a sexy hurt. I imagined being slammed against the stock by the thrusts of a strong man fucking me in that position. I wondered if the dampness in my crotch showed through my shorts.
Then Dale reversed the motor and my legs were straightened out. Dale pulled my legs so far down that my chin was pressed tight against the other side of the stock. My body was straight and taut. Just perfect for a good whipping.
When he released me I tried to act as if everything was normal. We chatted for a few minutes then I casually walked to the dressing room. Once I closed the door I yanked my panties down and masturbated. I bit my lip to be as quiet as possible, then washed my face, got dressed and walked out.
Masturbating in Dale’s bathroom merely took the edge of my arousal. I hadn’t gone a block from his house when I had my hands in my panties. I played with myself all the way to my apartment. When I got home I called Bob and invited him to drop by, then tied myself to my bed.
Bob showed up fairly quickly and screwed the living daylights out of me. He saw how excited I was and did a manly job of it. He outdid himself and screwed me several times. He asked what had gotten in to me, and I lied and told him that I’d been thinking about him all afternoon. That fed his ego, and his cock popped up again and he rolled on top of me. All in all it was a very erotic day.
MAC called me that evening and I told him about my new job. He was delighted to hear about the device and chuckled when I told him how hot I’d gotten. I was quick to tell him that I hadn’t had sex with Dale and didn’t mention Bob either. We talked a long time, and he described what he would do if he had me locked in a pillory. I played with my pussy while we talked and had another orgasm. I think it must have been my seventh or eighth of the day.
My next visit to Dale’s shop was just as erotic as the first. He asked me to come on a Saturday and spend a long time. That was fine with me.
Again I wore shorts and a tee shirt. My pussy went moist the minute I arrived and I had a tiny orgasm as soon as the stock clicked over my neck. I tried to talk to Dale, but he barely answered. He concentrated so deeply on his work that he seemed to forget that I was a live girl. He worked intently for hours, then walked away without a word. I lay in the pillory for a long time wondering where he’d gone. He finally returned.
“Where have you been?” I asked politely.
“Huh?” he grunted. “What was that?”
“I asked where you went,” I told him.
“I took a break for lunch,” he answered. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing,” I replied. “Only I could use a potty break, and maybe some lunch myself.”
He walked around to the front and looked at me in puzzlement, then the light came on.
“Good heavens!” he said. “What was I thinking?”
I was shaking with laughter as he rushed to release me. He apologized over and over and almost followed me into the bath room. I was giggling when I shut the door in his face.
He was not in the shop when I came out. I walked to the house and he waved me in to the kitchen. He was hurriedly making a couple of sandwiches.
“I’ve been treated as a lowly slave before,” I teased him. “But nobody ever tried to starve me to death.”
The poor dear was red as a beet.
“You take as long as you want,” he said. “And help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll get back to work.”
“Ok.”
I poured myself a glass of milk and relaxed and ate my sandwiches, then I tidied up the kitchen and went out to the shop.
Dale was tinkering away on the pillory.
“You just sit and relax,” he said. “I can do this without you for a while.”
“Not a chance,” I said, walking to the machine. “Lock me in.”
I spent all afternoon happily locked in Dale’s pillory. He was working on the gears that spread the slave’s legs. He finally got them working and tried them out.
“Ok,” he said. “Get ready.”
I heard the motor hum, then felt my legs being opened. Nice, nice, nice! The bars moved slowly but powerfully until my legs were further apart then they’d ever been in my life. I squeaked when my orgasm hit. Dale stopped the machine and asked if I was being hurt.
“Not as much as I’d like,” I whispered. “Keep going.”
He opened my legs another inch or two.
“How does that feel?” Dale asked. “Any discomfort?”
“Its ok,” I told him.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
“Sexy,” I told him. “I feel vulnerable.”
“Is that good?” he asked puzzled.
“It is for a slave.”
“Really? Hmm.”
Dale was a combination mad scientist, sex pervert and absent minded professor. He hadn’t given any thought to the effect his machine would have on the women who would be in it. I was going to have to help him a bit.
He spent a couple of hours putting the machine (and me) into different positions. He spread my legs apart, closed them, raised them up and down, bent my knees in varying degrees and almost twisted me into a pretzel. I was helpless to resist and I loved it.
I spent long periods in those odd positions while Dale paused to make detailed notes. He had a large notebook and wrote down everything. I guess it was the engineer in him. I didn’t mind because I enjoyed every moment in restraint and I often slipped into my daydream trance. I’d already decided that I wanted one of Dale’s machines and hoped he would make one for me, with a few modifications.
I thought we were finished but he lowered my legs below the frame and went through more experiments. I enjoyed these because they were excellent positions for spanking and whipping as well as fucking. When he finally unlocked me I was hot as hell.
“I believe we can knock off for today,” he said. “I’m very pleased with the progress we’ve made.”
“Are you sure we’re finished?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You forgot to test the machine with me on my back,” I said teasingly. “I can’t imagine how you forgot to run those tests.”
“I think you’re right,” he grinned. “Up you go.”
He locked me face up. I was when he strapped my ankles to the bars. And after the machine had opened and closed my legs a few dozen times I was on fire. I was on the verge of asking him to tear my clothes off when he shut down the motor.
“That is more than enough for one night,” he said.
I glanced out the window. It was dark.
“How long have we been here?” I asked.
“Thirteen hours.”
“My, my.”
“I hope I haven’t kept you from anything,” he said.
“Believe me, there is nothing I’d rather be doing.”
He bowed graciously.
I couldn’t wait to get into the dressing room and take my panties off.
When I got home it was too late to call Bob, MAC was unavailable and I knew that both Mary and Denise had appointments. I needed to talk to someone so I called Mom.
She was fascinated by Dale’s invention. I told her all the things it could do, and told her that I had one or two suggestions to make. She was concerned about Dale and what I might be letting myself in for, but I assured her that he hadn’t touched me sexually.
“That isn’t what concerns me,” she said. “I just think you out to be seeing men you own age, not someone old enough to be your father.”
“I’m not seeing him that way,” I said. “I’m just helping him build his machine.”
“It sounds like you are pretty vulnerable in that workshop,” she said.
“Incredibly vulnerable,” I said. “And its quite a turn on. Like our rack in the barn, only better.”
“There’s no telling what he might do to you.”
“I can only hope Mother.”
I tied myself to bed and went to sleep. I had a very erotic dream about the machine. It was in the loft of our barn and had some additional features. I woke in the middle of the night and made drawings and notes for Dale’s machine. When I finished I went back to bed and slept all morning.
The next time I went to Dale’s shop I showed him my sketches. He was very surprised, but looked them over and nodded in approval..
“These are great,” he said. “But how did you ever think these things up?”
“I’m an inventor myself,” I said. “I made a bondage machine when I was in high school.”
“You did?” He was astonished.
“Men aren’t the only ones to have perverse ideas,” I told him. “Girls get them too.”
He listened intently while I told him about my rack in the barn, and my other methods of self bondage. He frowned when I explained that I used a knife to cut ropes when I wanted to free myself. His precise engineering mind didn’t like such a wasteful method. He nodded when I told how I used weights to lock myself in the rack, but he was squirming a bit when I told him about using a weight to tighten my pussy rope.
“When did you build this thing?” he asked.
“About seven years ago.”
“What became of it?”
“Nothing, Its still in the barn at home.”
“Didn’t your parents find it?”
“My mother did, my father is dead,” I explained.
“What was your mother’s reaction?” he asked.
“She didn’t quite know what to think at first, but she accepted it.”
“She did?”
“Yes, and now she’s quite happy with it.”
“She is?”
“My mother ties herself to my rack all the time,” I said.
Dale’s mouth opened but no sound came out. He stared at me for ten minutes. Finally he started breathing again. “Incredible!”
“My mother is incredible,” I laughed. “And I would like to give her one of your machines.”
Dale nodded absently, then recovered his composure.
“Certainly, I’ll be happy to make one for her.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll have her come here so you can fit the machine to her body.”
He nodded. I don’t think he trusted himself to speak.
CH 25
Dale incorporated every one of my suggestions into the pillory. The first was a simple chin rest below the head opening.
“Why is this necessary?” he asked.
“It helps when the slave performs fellatio on her master,” I told him. “Or masters.”
“Of course. I see.”
We moved to my next suggestion. Dale didn’t need to be told what it was for.
I’d sketched a rounded box that sat between the slave’s legs. A dildo and butt plug extended from the box and entered the slave’s body. The box had a motor with cams and the dildos would fuck the woman at various speeds, depths and rhythms.
Dale improved my sketch by cutting a groove in the support frame and attaching a rod to the bottom of the box. The rod fit in the groove and the box could slide forward and backward to accommodate different sized women.
Dale understood at a glance the electrical torture devices I suggested. They were simple alligator clips for nipples and pussy lips and metal dildos all connected to a power source. He was surprised that I’d added them though.
“Why would you want these things?” he asked. “They could be very painful.”
“That’s the idea,” I told him. “After all, this is a torture device, isn’t it?”
“Actually I designed it simply for restraint,” he said. “I didn’t really consider torturing women with it.”
“Well I want to be tortured in it,” I told him. “So will a lot of women.”
“Ah, I see,” he said faintly. “Well, I suppose I could add these features, But I’ll have to install an amperage regulator. Other wise it could be very dangerous.”
“Danger is part of the allure of slavery,” I told him. “Slaves are thrill seekers, just like people who ride roller coasters.”
“This is a little more dangerous than that,” he said. “A slave might be electrocuted.
“Let me tell you about a woman whose deepest fantasy is to be executed in an electric chair.” I told him about Donna and her electrocution fantasy.
Dale was no fool, he was a sophisticated and worldly man, but his kinky interests ran to simple bondage. He wasn’t a sadist. I opened his eyes to the real world of S and M. He was sweating when I finished.
“My God!” he gasped. “I never dreamed that someone would find their own death a source of eroticism!”
“You’d be surprised at the weird things people find erotic,” I told him. “I’ve imagined what it would be like to sit in an electric chair.”
“You don’t honestly want to die, do you?”
“Of course not,” I said. “But that fantasy takes submission and exhibitionism to the most extreme level possible. I don’t want to die, but the idea of submitting to that ultimate orgasm is powerfully erotic.”
He looked at the pillory a long time, then shrugged.
“It will be very easy to add an electrical device,” he said. “I’m just not sure how wise it would be.”
“Can you design it to stop at a certain level, for safety?” I asked.
“Easily.”
“Go ahead and make it,” I said. “Then you can test it on me and we’ll decide how high the settings should go.”
He swallowed nervously, then nodded.
“And just to be certain,” I said impishly. “I think we should run an extensive set of tests, very extensive.”
“I need a drink,” Dale said.
Poor Dale really hadn’t understood that women actually exist who enjoy pain. He had been into bondage and male dominance all his life, but had never been with a true masochist. I felt older than him in some ways and managed to shock him several times. My vow to keep sex out of our relation ship went right out the window. I decided I was going to teach him how to properly dominate a woman.
“The next device is another pain generator,” I explained to him. “It drips hot oil onto the slave’s body.”
“Why hot oil,” he asked.
“Its more controllable that candle wax.”
“And I suppose you like hot candle wax?” he said.
“Absolutely.”
“All right,” he said as if nothing could surprise him again. “Lets see what we have.”
“Its a simple tank with an electric heater,” I told him. “It is suspended over the slave and a valve controls the flow. It can be adjusted to drip oil on any part of my body.”
“How hot do you want the oil to be?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. I suppose we’ll have to run tests to find out.”
‘Ok what’s next?”
“An automated flogger.”
“Great idea!” he said brightly. “How does it work?”
“I got the idea from a John Willy book,” I told him.
“Ah yes,” he said. “The part where a pretty girl is strapped to a stationary bicycle. She has to keep pedaling to create an electric current. If she stops an automatic motor comes on and spins a wheel full of thin switches against her bottom.”
“Oh, you’ve seen it,” I said.
“I have all of John Willy’s books in my library,” he said. “So you want to be subjected to that?”
“Yep. But I have some modifications,” I said. “First, the flogger simply runs when its switched on, there is no pedaling by the slave. Second, the flogger can be adjusted to spin horizontally to get my bottom and the backs of my legs, and it can be turned to spin vertically to whip my pussy and back and breasts.”
“And the wheel should be able to accommodate different whips and switches, right?”
“And it should have different speed setting, for harder whippings,” I said.
“No problem. Are there any more changes you’d like?
“One very important one. The whole machine should be made so that a woman can lock herself into it, control the torture devices, then release herself when she’s ready.”
“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of the machine?” he asked.
“No, you could have two types,” I said. “One for masters and slaves and one for self bondage.”
“Easy enough,” he said. “In fact I can design one machine that can be set for both modes. A simple lock out control would work.”
“Terrific.”
“Now, did you really build a torture device in your barn?” he asked.
“Sure did. Cross my heart.”
“Ok,” he said. “Your stories have given me another idea for our machine.”
“What’s that?”
“Its a secret,” he said. “I’ll show you next time.”
CH 26
Dale must have worked day and night, because when I next went to the workshop most of the modifications had been done. And he had added a couple of his own.
The chin rest was in place. Dale had sculpted it out of metal and padded it with hard rubber. It snapped into holes below the head opening. I couldn’t wait to rest my chin on it and have someone’s cock in my mouth.
He’d placed the dildo box in a track on the frame. He showed me how it traveled back and forth atop a worm gear. I was surprised to see that one side of the box was curved and covered in thick rubber.
“What is that for?” I asked touching the curved surface
“The box can be pressed very tightly into the slave’s crotch,” he replied. “Tight enough to push her against the stock. I thought it might add some stimulation.”
“I’ll say.” I was stimulated just looking at it.
He lifted the dildo box out of its track and put another in its place. They looked identical. I raised my eyebrows in question.
“This is your electrical dildo,” he explained. He showed me a power cord coming out of that box. “The probe is made of conductive metal and is connected to a transformer on the base of the pillory.”
He knelt and plugged the cord into another box. He indicated a row of alligator clips that were hooked to a small wooden bar. He pulled one of them and a cord unreeled silently from the transformer.
“Electrical cables can be attached to sensitive parts of the slave’s body from here.”
The sensitive parts of my body were already aching to feel those clips. My pussy was throbbing and my nipples were hard. I gingerly touched the dildo and felt a faint tingling at the tip of my finger. Dale turned a knob and the tingling increased until it was mildly painful. Very nice.
“I still have some work to do, but I think the automated flogger will function,” he said. He showed me a tall stand on a roller base. An electric motor was mounted on the base and connected to a wheel at the top. The wheel was adorned with several wicked looking fiber glass switches. I rolled one between my fingers. It was no more than an eighth of an inch thick. My pussy tingled at the thought of those switches snapping against my bottom.
“As per your specifications, it can be adjusted for horizontal or vertical positions,” Dale said. “And the speed is variable.”
A L shaped bar extended beneath the wheel. It seemed to be in the path of the switches
“What is this for?” I asked.
“Its in John Willy’s book,” he said. “It retards the motion of the switch for a moment, then the switch slides off the bar and impacts the slave with more force.”
“Oh God!” My pussy was getting wetter by the minute.
“This is my own idea,” Dale said, rolling another tall stand in view. It was a telescoping pole six feet high. A tee shaped bar was atop the pole and a row of light pulleys hung from the tee. Weights on thin steel cables hung beneath the pulleys. The cables disappeared into a metal box at the base of the stand and a single cable emerged and was threaded through a separate pulley at the highest part of the tee bar. I knew instantly what it was for, but not how it worked.
“I got the idea from your home made rack,” Dale told me.
“It looks very interesting,” I said. “When do I get to try it out?”
He motioned me toward the dressing room.
It was time to take off the kid gloves. I stripped naked in the dressing room, touched up my hair and makeup, then opened the door and walked out.
Dale didn’t bat an eye. He watched me as I walked to the machine. “Its about time you were naked,” he said.
“Yes master.”
He placed a thin belt around my waist. It buckled in the back and had a hook in the front. He showed me a small box attached to the stock. It held a couple of buttons and a timer.
“Push the top button then place yourself in the stock,” he said. “It will close and lock ten seconds later,”
“Ok.”
“The timer will open the stock. It can be set for up to an hour.”
“That’s not long enough,” I said. “I would want to be able to lock myself in for hours and hours.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Oh yes.”
“All right,” he shrugged. “I can get a longer timer.”
“What’s the bottom button for?” I asked.
“It bypasses the timer,” he said. “I you press the top button, then the lower one. You will be locked in until someone else releases you.”
“Wonderful.”
“Up you go,” he said.
I climbed onto the support frame. The metal was cool against my skin. I pushed the top button, then the lower one and put my head and hands into the holes. I was trembling with excitement. A few seconds passed then the stock lowered onto my neck and locked in place. I had a sweet tiny orgasm when I heard that solid click. I couldn’t suppress a loud gasp.
“Are you all right?” Dale asked.
“I just had an orgasm,” I explained.
“Why? You’ve been in the machine before.”
“This time its for real,” I said.
“Ah yes. Quite true.”
He locked my ankles in the manacles. They felt odd until I realized that they were metal and not the leather test straps I’d gotten used to. The metal was cool and unyielding. Sexier than leather.
He put his hand in my crotch and squeezed my pussy. Orgasm number two hit. I sighed with pleasure as his strong fingers explored and manipulated my pussy. After nearly driving me wild, Dale’s hand slipped under my belly and pressed upward. I raised my pelvis off the frame. I heard a faint click, then his hand disappeared. I heard the hum of a motor and felt a pressure in my pussy. It was light and thin at first, but grew stronger.
The hum stopped and I felt Dale buckling a strap around my body. He tugged it tight and my breasts were pressed against the frame. He added two more straps and I couldn’t move.
“Can you move at all?” he asked.
I strained against my bonds. Nothing gave. There was no slack. The only parts of my body I could move were my fingers and toes. The temperature between my legs went higher.
“I can’t move,” I told him. “Nothing at all.”
“Splendid.” He patted my butt.
The humming resumed.
Suddenly the pressure between my pussy lips went from mild to fantastic! I felt the same sensation that I loved when the weight dropped off the barn loft and tightened the rope in my crotch. That brought about orgasm number three.
I’d barely caught my breath when the cable in my pussy went slack, then tightened again. And again! I was gasping for breath when it tightened twice in quick succession. Dale brought out a full length mirror and positioned it so I could see what was going on.
Dale’s pussy rope machine raised the weights and let them fall. A bar studded with pegs turned slowly at the base of the device and each peg tripped a release which made the weights fall. The pegs were arranged so the weights fell at random. Dale designed the thing so that a weight dropped about every eight to ten seconds, but the random pattern made some fall in quick succession, others after a long interval. After I’d gotten a good look he took the mirror away. There was no way for me to anticipate when the rope was going to tighten in my pussy. I was a babbling idiot within half an hour.
Dale has a engineer’s methodical style of thinking. He compiles data then makes calculations. After he released me from the pillory, and I was able to speak coherently, we discussed my orgasms. He made some computations and estimated the number of my orgasms at approximately seventy five. My internal orgasm counter went into melt down early in the experiment so I lost count, but upon calm reflection I think he was low by a factor of three.
We went in the house and Dale loaned me a thick warm robe. He cooked a barbecue dinner while I curled up on a chaise lounge. After we ate I fell asleep. I woke in a strange bed in the middle of the night. It took me a moment to collect my thoughts, then I realized Dale must have carried me to a guest bedroom. I went back to sleep.
The next morning Dale asked me to spend the day in the pillory. I was giggling in anticipation before he finished asking. After breakfast he locked me in place and puttered around making more adjustments. I spent hours in the stocks, happy as a clam.
While I lay immobilized I slipped into one of my daydream trances. In my daydream Dale decided to manufacture and sell the pillories.
He opened a huge factory. Hundreds of workmen built the machines on an assembly line. The place was a hive of activity. Men shaped and welded the frames, while others built the motors and attachments. As the pillories moved along other workmen attached the restraining cuffs and electrical fittings. When the pillories reached the end of the assembly line they were put through quality control testing, using live female slaves.
The test slaves were hung by their wrists to overhead hooks that traveled in a large circle. Their feet were several inches off the floor and their bodies jerked and swayed with the movement of the conveyor. The circle was synchronized with the assembly line. As each machine arrived, so did a slave. The woman was taken down and locked into the pillory. She was locked into the stocks, then subjected to a battery of tortures. Each test took an hour. The slaves were spanked, whipped, and had dildos inserted in the pussies and asses. Electrical dildos were tested, as were the nipple and labia clamps. Finally the inspectors inserted their cocks into the slaves’ pussies or mouths while they completed their paper work.
When the inspectors were satisfied the women were released, hung up beneath the overhead conveyor and the cycle repeated.
The conveyor carried each woman through a wash room where workmen sprayed her body with warm water, then soap, then a final rinse, like a car wash. Other workmen toweled each slave dry. By the time she was dry the cycle brought her back to the starting point and she was locked into another pillory. Each slave worked an eight hour shift.
The company sold some pillories with a live slave attached. A different conveyor brought women who were locked into the machines, then sent along to the shipping department.
Every day hundreds of women lined up at the employment office.
Dale released me for lunch. I wasn’t hungry and ate quickly, I couldn’t wait to get back in the pillory. After lunch I ran back to the shop. Dale laughed when he came in a few minutes later and found me in the machine.
I slipped back into my daydream.
Dale inaugurated an advertising campaign and took to the road on a marketing tour. He hired a crew and took me along as a demonstration slave. He leased a truck and a bus and off we went. We set up displays at trade shows and county fairs. Dale wore a sort of carnival barker’s costume used a megaphone to attract the customers.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Allow me to introduce you to the eighth wonder of the modern world. A device so perfectly designed to confine and restrain a slave that you will never see its like anywhere but right here!” Blah, blah, blah, , , , and so on.
The pillory sat center stage covered with a red velvet cloth. Dale whisked the cover off and the audience applauded.
“To demonstrate the many ways a woman can be restrained in this marvelous device, my lovely assistant will bring forth one of my personal slaves.”
The curtains parted and his lovely assistant led me on stage. We stepped through the curtains into a brilliant spotlight. I wore a red floor length cape. The assistant wore a Las Vegas type showgirl costume with plumes in her hair, a leather bustier, sequined panties, mesh hose and high heels.
The assistant was my Mom.
She led me by a leash to center stage. I stood motionless, my chin high, my gaze fixed above the heads of the audience. Mom unclipped my cape and whirled it off my body. I was naked and my hands were cuffed behind my back. Mom paraded me back and forth across the stage, then led me to Dale where I knelt at his feet. She reached between her breasts and with a flourish brought out a shiny golden key. She unlocked my wrists, unclipped my leash, then clapped her hands imperiously. I rose and climbed into the pillory. Mom locked my ankles in the metal cuffs, then pushed the button. The stock lowered itself onto my neck and locked.
“I will now demonstrate that no matter how hard she is tortured, this lovely slave cannot escape the iron grip of my pillory!” Dale boomed. Mom marched across the stage carrying a whip on a cushion. She bowed as Dale took the whip. Dale cracked the whip several times, then stepped back, paused, and brought it across my butt. I screamed and fought to get loose but it was to no avail. I could only lie helpless as the whip turned my bottom bright red.
Mom brought the attachments out one by one and Dale demonstrated them on my poor helpless body.
They started with the dropping weight pussy rope. The audience applauded when I went into a series of orgasms.
Dale kept his spiel going. “Now that you have seen how the pussy rope weights work, we will demonstrate another piece of equipment. My assistant is bringing out our next device.”
Mom minced across the stage pushing the mechanical whip, a broad show girl smile on her face.
I moaned and gasped and whimpered and screamed while Dale demonstrated each and every attachment on my poor body. I wasn’t acting. The pain was real (and delicious.)
Then we came to the grand finale’.
“I am now going to demonstrate the ultimate form of torture!” Dale announced. “The pain that will be inflicted upon this girl is so horrific that her screams could be heard for blocks, therefore I will request that my assistant gag her.”
Mom held up a huge penis gag and strutted across the front of the stage.
“The gag that you are seeing was specially made for this demonstration,” Dale said theatrically. “It is larger than ordinary gags,” Mom opened her mouth and tried to put it between her teeth. With a theatrical shake of her head she showed that it was too big.
“Nevertheless, the slave you see before you must wear such a gag or else you ladies and gentlemen might suffer hearing loss from her screams.”
Mom walked to my head and lifted my chin with a finger. I opened my mouth and she tried to put the gag in. It was too big and I groaned in pain as she struggled to force it between my lips. With exaggerated efforts Mom pushed and pushed and finally got the gag in my mouth. I squealed in pain while she buckled it in place.
Dale’s voice dropped dramatically. “Now ladies and gentlemen, my assistant will place clamps on the slave’s breasts.”
Mom knelt and pulled an alligator clamp from the electrical transformer. She stood and held for the crowd to see.
“As you can see, these are not ordinary nipple clamps,” Dale said in hushed tones. “They are equipped with the sharpest teeth and strongest springs ever made. Simply wearing these clamps is more torture than most women can endure.”
Mom placed her hand on her breast, paused demurely, then pulled her bustier down exposing her breasts. She looked upward, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The spotlight narrowed and focused on her beast. There was dead silence as she gingerly placed the teeth of the clamp over her nipple. She gasped, shrank back and dropped the clamp. That brought gasps and murmurs of sympathy from the women in the audience.
She picked up the clamp and tried to put it on her other nipple. She grimaced, then screamed and quickly took the clamp off. She moaned, fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands.
“My assistant is herself a slave,” Dale told the crowd. “And has spent many long hours enduring horrible tortures in the pillory. But as you can see, even this brave lady cannot endure the pain of this terrible clamp. Please give her a round of applause.”
Mom bowed deeply as the audience cheered.
When the ovation died down Mom picked up the clamp and held it close to her breast. “I can try again,” she offered nobly.
“No, thank you my brave, brave assistant,” Dale said. He turned to the audience. “The clamps are painful in the extreme, but they serve an even more terrible purpose, for they will carry hundreds of volts of electricity onto the nipples of this wretched girl!”
This brought more gasps from the audience. It even produced a few muffled screams.
Dale looked at Mom. “Proceed.”
Now the spotlight focused on my breast. Mom held the clamp up, opened the teeth, and put it on my nipple. She stepped back and bowed to the audience while I screamed my lungs out behind the gag. Then she marched regally around to my other side and attached a second clamp to my other nipple. The audience applauded while I thrashed insanely.
Dale waited until my screams had subsided to frantic whimpers.
“As I told you, the clamps are pure torture by themselves,” Dale told the audience. “But prepare yourselves for what comes next!”
He turned on the electricity. The audience watched in fascinated horror as I tensed, then groaned, then screamed as Dale increased the voltage. They went wild when I fainted.
Mom produced smelling salts from her bra and waved them under my nose. When I was conscious she brought out the metal dildo probe, dropped its carrier in the slot and turned the pillory so my ass was toward the audience, then she slid the probe into my pussy.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Dale whispered, “If you thought you’d seen the ultimate form of feminine torture, you were mistaken. Watch now as I send a current of electricity, not only through the slave’s nipples, but into her pussy as well!”
A woman in the audience fainted. Her husband, his eyes fixed on me, didn’t notice his wife’s body at his feet.
“The control mechanism allows the torturer to send electricity to any part of the slave’s body,” Dale said. “One nipple, both nipples, her pussy or rectum, all at once, or in a random pattern. I will demonstrate using low voltage.”
I got a small jolt in my nipples, then my pussy. I squeaked and tensed my muscles. Dale set the control for random. My body jerked and bounced in its restraints. The audience applauded.
“Now for the serious voltage!” Dale trumpeted. “I must warn you that this is very dangerous and could possibly result in the slave’s death. As you may know, in the Moslem world the punishment for women guilty of infidelity is death. I have received inquiries from the governments of several Middle Eastern countries who are considering using my device to punish such wicked women, even to execute them.”
The audience was silent.
“In the event that this should result in the death of our slave,” Dale said. “My assistant has courageously volunteered to take her place and complete the demonstration.”
Mom raised her face with an expression of noble sacrifice. Then with a graceful sweep of her arm directed the spotlight onto my body. Dale held the control box up.
“And now I will send hundreds of volts of electricity into the pussy of this helpless slave girl!”
He turned on the electricity. The universe exploded in my pussy. I had the orgasm of orgasms, and blacked out.
Two burly stage hands removed my limp body from the pillory.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes our demonstration,” Dale told the audience. “On in past occasions I called for volunteers from the audience to come on stage and try out our wonderful machine.”
Most of the women in the audience surged forward. Dale held up his hand.
“Unfortunately, due to several incidents where things went completely out of control, the authorities have forced me to curtail the practice. However, my assistant will stand at the stairs on the right of the stage handing out order forms. If any of you wish to test the machine in private back stage, please tell her.”
A line formed instantly.
Later when we were loading up to leave Mom was complaining to Dale. “Why can’t Mary be your stage assistant?” she said. “I’d like to be the demonstration slave once in a while.”
I slowly roused from my daydream. “What in the world were you thinking?” Dale asked. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
“I’ve thought up a new way to use your invention,” I told him. “Have you ever thought about going in to show business?”
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