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Author’s note: I apologize that some of the previous parts of my memoirs are out of sequence.
There was a problem in submitting them to the web site.
CH 27
Dale finished the pillory and celebrated by taking me to dinner. I met him at his house. I wore a formal dinner dress, garter belt and stockings and spike heels, but no underwear. I brought my tightest pussy belt but didn’t put it on. When I arrived I lifted my skirt and asked him to lock it on me. He surprised me by presenting me with a pussy chain. It was made of flattened gold links and locked with a tiny gold padlock. The links were large and the belt was delightfully heavy. It came in a pretty velvet lined box.
I held my skirt up as Dale locked the chain onto me and for once he took some liberties. He played with my pussy. When he had me squirming with arousal he locked the chain in place and wouldn’t let me come. Then he opened another box and gave me a necklace and set of earrings, all made of the same golden chain. I put them on. My dress was dark blue and set off the gold exquisitely.
Dale led me to his car. I made sure I opened my legs as he held the door open. I wanted him to see the chain between my legs. The valet parking attendant also got a look when he opened my door when we arrived at the restaurant.
The restaurant was one of the best in Denver. I don’t know what it was about that chain, perhaps it was the moment, the formal clothes, the elegant setting, but I was so excited that I could barely walk. The maitre’ d greeted us warmly but looked in surprise at my flushed face and rapid breathing. Needless to say, my nipples were as hard as rocks and showing against the material of my dress. We drew a lot of attention as we walked to our table.
When we were seated I leaned close and told Dale that his chain was liable to make me have an orgasm before the dinner was over. He just smiled and raised his wine glass to me.
It took a supreme effort of will but I managed not to have an orgasm in the restaurant.
The chain gave Dale an idea for another invention and at dinner he discussed making a vibrator that could be activated by remote control. He decided that it could be held in place by a metal chastity belt with a lock. I agreed but told him that I’d never worn a full metal chastity belt so could he please make one for me? He nodded absently then talked about the difficulties of making a radio receiver and batteries powerful enough to operate the vibrator but small enough to conceal under a woman’s clothing. He opened his notebook and began making sketches at the table. The waitress glanced at his drawing and almost dropped her pitcher of water. Dale was so engrossed that he didn’t notice but I smiled sweetly at her. She blushed and walked quickly away. She came back and pretended to tend the table setting while she was peeking at his sketches. I was biting tongue trying not to laugh. Dale was oblivious and just worked away.
She gasped when I suggested that the thing have two vibrators. Dale didn’t look up, he just nodded. Then I suggested that the radio should have a long range so it could be activated from miles away.
The idea of walking around wearing such a device was very erotic. I imagined being in class or in a crowd when my master across town flipped a switch and vibrators unexpectedly came to life inside me. I could see myself trying to act normal while orgasms were rippling through my body and soul. It wasn’t bondage but it certainly was a wonderful way to be in someone’s control. Once again my overactive imagination kicked in.
I ate my dinner absently as scenarios came to mind. I looked around the room at dozens of well dressed ladies and imagined them secretly wearing vibrators. I thought about a huge master control transmitter that could activate all the vibrators simultaneously.
Somewhere in a secret underground laboratory a sadistic mad scientist turned away from the dozen or so naked women he had chained to a wall and went to the control panel of his infernal device. He leered wickedly as he turned it on. Huge sparks crackled between electrodes as he threw switch after switch. Like Doctor Frankenstein’s laboratory, the air filled with buzzing, crackling electricity that almost drowned out the screams and whimpers of his slaves. ( Some of the poor women screamed because, like the ladies in the restaurant, they wore vibrators in their pussies and asses. They screamed in terrified anticipation of what was to come. Other slaves who didn’t wear vibrators whimpered in frustration, because they were to miss out on what was to come.)
Finally, after a dramatic pause, the mad sadist threw the final switch and the signal went out to all the vibrators in the city.
I imagined the ladies ( myself included ) jerking in unison as our vibrators unexpectedly came to life. I envisioned the widened eyes and suppressed gasps, the dropped forks and sudden inability to sit still. I fantasized that even the waitresses had to desperately keep from dropping trays. I gazed around the restaurant and pretended all the women were managing to conceal the heat in their pussies while the distant madman increased the power. I giggled as I imagined a faint buzzing sound filling the room, coming from all those hot damp pussies. Elegant ladies set their faces and grabbed the table as they tried bravely to ride out the increased humming in their vaginas. Their foreheads beaded with sweat and their breasts heaved. Rock hard nipples showed through evening gowns and formal dresses. Legs were crossed and uncrossed, knees came wide apart under the tables.
Then the wicked master hit full power. A woman gasped and threw her head back. Another clenched her teeth and a third rolled her eyes back and collapsed in her chair. A woman staggered to her feet and walked to the ladies room, trying to move normally. Another followed, then another. They walked faster and faster, then broke into a run and suddenly there was a wild scramble as every woman in the building tried to crowd into the restroom.
Inside was a densely packed mass of female flesh writhing as orgasms roared through their bodies. Some women tore their tops down exposing their breasts others yanked their skirts up and grabbed their pussies. Stranger hugged each other, some even kissing wildly. An elderly lady pulled another woman’s hand onto her breasts and begged her to hurt them. The stranger obligingly dug her nails in to soft the breasts and squeezed with all her might. The elderly woman closed her eyes dreamily as the other woman’s fingernails left deep bruises.
Gasps and whimpers and squeals filled the air causing the men outside to smile at each other knowingly. Finally as the orgasms subsided we ladies returned to our seats with as much dignity as we could manage, dabbing at perspiration on our faces and trying to tidy our hair. We almost made it when the master hit the switch again.
I roused from my daydream to see Dale smiling at me quizzically. I was squirming in my chair pretending the vibrator was up my pussy. A couple at the next table was looking at me curiously. Our waitress was staring at me from across the room. I leaned close and told him my fantasy.
Dale roared with laughter.
“You ought to mass produce the vibrators and make them available to all the men in Denver,” I said. “Every woman ought be made to wear one by her husband or boyfriend.”
“That’s an interesting and erotic scenario,” he chuckled. “But a bit impractical. Think of all the auto accidents that might happen. We would have to ban women from driving cars.”
“A small price to pay,” I said. ( I would happily give up my driver’s license if I could get someone to force me to walk around with vibrators in my body. )
The waitress came by to refill our water glasses and made no attempt to conceal her interest. Dale looked at her in surprise but I motioned her close.
“He’s an inventor,” I told her. “We’re working on a remote control vibrator for women that can be locked in place.”
Dale blushed.
She thought for a moment. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“Keep in mind this would be for sex slaves,” I told her. “Once the belt is locked on you can’t get out of it until your master releases you.”
“Sounds better and better,” she said. She turned to Dale. “I’ll take one, and put me on your mailing list.”
Dale’s mouth dropped open and he tuned in his chair to stare at her as she walked away. I giggled at his astonishment. For all the women he’d tied up and made love to, he really knew nothing at all about them.
After dinner we went back to Dale’s house and he locked me into the pillory. He played with my pussy until I was millimeters from coming, then he’d stop. He kept that up for hours and when I begged and pleaded to cum, he just gagged me. Dale tortured me until the wee hours, then left me in the pillory and went to bed. I was dying of frustration and arousal. I whimpered and squirmed all night until I finally fell asleep. I woke with Dale’s cock in my pussy. As soon as I realized what was happening I had a terrific orgasm. Dale screwed me for a very long time. When he was ready to cum he removed my gag and thrust his cock in my mouth. I sucked him eagerly and he spurted so much that I couldn’t swallow it all.
After wards he released me and cooked breakfast while I showered.
I told MAC about Dale’s pillory. He was interested and told me he would buy one if he could find a place to keep it. My apartment wouldn’t do. It was too small and for obvious reasons he couldn’t take it home. I suggested that Mary or Denise might let him keep it at one of their dungeons.
He laughed when I told him about the idea for the remote control vibrators and my fantasies at the restaurant. He liked the concept of pushing a button and sending every woman in Denver into unexpected orgasms. He mused about applying for the position of mad scientist.
He hoped that Dale could design a working model. MAC told me would buy a whole case of remote control vibrators, and with a wicked leer, told me that I could expect to have mine come on at the most unexpected times.
“Why would you want to buy a whole case?” I demanded. “Who else are you going to put them on?”
“Just you,” he replied. “I figure to use them on you so often that they’ll probably wear out pretty quickly. I’ll want some spares.”
What a sweetie!
CH 28
Dale never managed to make the remote control vibrator work to his satisfaction. The technology of the seventies didn’t provide for a unit that was small enough to conceal. I believe that someone has invented such a thing now ( in 2007 ) and I would like to get one ( or a whole case of them ) and let MAC put it in me. Who knows, maybe I’ll order some for Mom too.
Dale started another project. It was an X cross made of stainless steel that was adjustable as to the angle of the cross, and had sliding motorized cuffs for the slave’s wrists and ankles. It was fairly simple and he locked me onto it several times. I loved the feeling of pure helplessness. At a touch of a button Dale could make the arms of the cross open or close.
The feeling was indescribable. I was as helpless as a baby as the arms slowly and inexorably opened to their full extent., then paused and closed just as slowly. The sensation between my legs was wonderful. I had several orgasms just from the motion of the cross. Another button made the wrist cuffs slide up or down the upper arms of the cross. The higher they went the tighter my body was stretched. It was like a medieval rack and I liked the feel of being stretched. Dale planned to add the same attachments on the pillory, like the automatic flogger, the electric nipple clamps, and the pumping dildo.
He was working on the final details when he died.
Dale went to visit his brother in Oregon. His brother was a retired navy pilot. They went flying one afternoon in a small plane and were on approach to land when a sudden down draft, called a micro burst, slammed their plane into the ground killing them both.
Dale’s son came to town to settle his affairs and was shocked to discover the torture equipment. He dismantled it and threw it away. I couldn’t bring myself to ask for it. I would have paid for it but realized that I would have embarrassed Dale’s son by asking.
I went to Dale’s funeral but knew no one else there. I was sitting alone when I was approached by a very elegant and famous lady. I will not hint at her name except to say that she was known world wide as one of the greatest ballerinas of the twentieth century.
She introduced herself and floored me by saying: “You are the young woman helping Dale with his invention, aren’t you?”
I almost fainted with surprise.
“How did you know about that?” I managed to gasp.
“Dale was my next door neighbor,” she said. “We were friends. He told me about his invention and how you modeled it.”
“He told you about it?”
“He originally asked me to be his model,” she said. “I turned him down. Now that he’s gone I’m almost sorry I did.”
“Are you in to bondage?”
She shrugged and smiled “Once in a while,” she said. “Like most women, but I readily admit that I’m not in your league. Dale told me about you. I was impressed.”
“Oh, my God!”
She smiled sympathetically. “Don’t be embarrassed ,” she said kindly. “Dale thought very highly of you. You brought him a great deal of pleasure.”
“My God, what you must think of me.”
“I envy you,” she said. “I think you are a very fortunate young woman. You have more courage and freedom than any woman I know.”
“I don’t know about courage,” I said. “Its more like an addiction.”
“Perhaps, but I would give anything to be able to do the things you do without worrying about it appearing in the newspapers or someone’s memoirs.”
She put my arm in hers and we walked to the door. Waiting outside were news photographers. There was a stir when they spotted her. Cameras began clicking. She gave a tiny tired sigh, but marched on. A television reported thrust a microphone at her and asked for a comment. She turned to me and kissed me on the cheek.
“I’m glad that I met you,” she said warmly. “By the way, I admire your necklace.”
I was wearing the gold necklace Dale had given me. She was wearing an identical one. She smiled and gave me the tiniest of winks.
I started to walk away, then turned back.
“Have you been locked in Dale’s infernal machine?” I whispered.
She didn’t answer, she just looked into my eyes for a moment, then touched my lip with her finger.
I walked away and she turned to the reporter. I glanced back. She was idly caressing her necklace as she talked to the reporters. I had a sudden image of her wearing one of Dale’s remote controlled vibrators under her dress.
That night I dreamt of Dale’s funeral, and my sick, perverted mind turned it into a bondage orgy.
I dreamt that all women who arrived were required to undress in the foyer of the funeral home. We were locked into hand cuffs and slave collars. I was there, one of dozens of women wearing only hats and veils, stockings and heels, and panties. The staff locked our wrists behind our backs and connected our collars with light chains. Then we were led into the viewing room. Beside Dale’s casket was a small platform with two steps covered with black cloth. As we filed slowly past Dale’s casket each woman climbed the steps and stood as a member of the staff removed our panties and placed them on the casket.
During the service we knelt with our heads bowed and our knees apart. Afterwards our collar chain was linked to the back of the hearse and we followed it slowly to the cemetery.
Then my dream shifted to a great theater. A benefit ballet was being performed in Dale’s honor. His neighbor, the elegant ballerina came out of retirement for this one performance. She danced Swan Lake to a packed house. When the wicked Swan king claimed the Swan Princess he demonstrated his dominance by stripping her naked and locking a golden chain through her pussy. In the final scene, when the handsome prince defeated the Swan King and rescued the Swan Princess he clipped a golden leash to her collar and led her away to ecstatic slavery.
Despite my perverse dreams I grieved for Dale.
I cried for days. Mary and Denise came to my apartment and sat with me, and MAC came by. I curled up in his lap and finally got a few hours sleep. Then, being the dear understanding friend he was, he told his wife he was going away on business and took me to his cabin.
As soon as we were out of the city He ordered me to undress. He handcuffed my wrists and ankles and I rode all the way to the cabin naked. At the cabin MAC tied me to the bed for three solid days. I’m not exaggerating! He kept me tied to the bed in the same position for almost seventy-two hours. He only let me up for short breaks. The rest of the time he whipped me and screwed me almost non stop. He fed me sitting naked on my chest and gave me drinks through a straw. I loved every second, but when he released me I had trouble standing. It was as if I’d forgotten how.
MAC’s therapy helped a lot, but I still mourned for Dale. He was almost like a father to me, and I liked him for himself, not just for the bondage. I wish I’d been able to get him and Mom together. I think they would have understood each other. I often wonder if he might not have made her his lifetime slave, like I am to MAC.
To this day I think of Dale whenever I am locked into a pillory or have a vibrator put inside me.
I went home to the farm and cried a little more. When I arrived I called Mom at the bank and told her I’d be in the barn. I stripped naked and walked around the yard, then climbed to the loft. It was comforting to tie myself into my old tortured rack and to lie there all afternoon. I tied myself tightly, so that I couldn’t get loose until Mom came home and released me.
Mom was understanding. She sat beside the rack and we talked for a long time. After dinner she helped me hang by my wrists from the loft crane. She sat in the loft and we talked some more. Mostly we talked about loss and grief, but our conversation did creep around to bondage and sex. I told her about spending three days tied to a bed in a cabin. I went into some detail, and although it was too dark in the loft for me to see what Mom was doing, her breathing gave me a pretty good idea.
Mom went to bed and left me hanging all night. It was wonderful. I hung there twisting slowly in the breeze, my shoulders aching and my wrists numb. I listened to the night sounds and the occasional passing car, then watched the sunrise the next morning. I dozed from time to time and had some sweet erotic dreams.
After the sun was up I smelled bacon cooking in the house. Mom came out and lowered me to the ground. I ate breakfast in the nude, then crawled into bed.
I didn’t leave the farm that visit. I didn’t go in to town or see any of my friends. I just stayed naked and bound the entire time.
One hot night I walked naked down to the road and tied myself to the gate post. A short time later Mom arrived, also naked and tied herself to the other post. That night I told her about Dale’s idea for a remote controlled vibrator. She thought it was a good idea. She chuckled when I told her about my fantasy in the restaurant and shrieked with laughter when I told her what the waitress said to Dale. When I told her about my dreams of Dale’s funeral and the ballet she said that I was a terribly degenerate girl and would I please tell her more?
I also told her about my fantasy about demonstrating the pillory. I recounted dreaming about being tortured on stage by Dale and his female assistant. I just didn’t mention that she was the assistant.
Between us we came up with some pretty wild scenarios for Dale’s inventions. Mom decided that she would have liked to be a demonstrator for the X cross as well as the remote controlled vibrators.
“Maybe the bank manager would let you set up a display in the lobby,” I giggled.
She made a lot of bad jokes about farmers coming to the bank to make deposits.
We talked and laughed until three in the morning,. We decided that if anyone were to come along and find us we would submit to anything they wanted, but no cars came by, not even a deputy sheriff.
Before he died Dale made a metal chastity belt for me. Its stainless steel and too bulky to conceal under clothing. The only times I’ve worn it in public is during the winter under a heavy coat. I still have it and its not adjustable, so in order to fit into it I’ve had to keep my waistline under control. I’ve dieted and exercised all my life to be able to fit into it. It would break my heart if I couldn’t wear it.
I still have my golden chains too. They are my most treasured possessions. I wear them, especially the pussy chain, so much that some of the links have actually become slightly thinner. I’ve loaned them to Mom too.
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