Day 12--Geoffrey
Despite the pouring rain, I could scarcely contain my good humor.
Brenda had been most cooperative this morning, allowing herself to be
bathed, fed and dressed with nary a flinch nor a whimper of protest,
even though I had awoken her long before the sun puttered into the
sky behind the thick gray clouds.
I closed the door to the studio where Brenda stood in the middle of
the room on one foot, with her other leg bent over, its ankle cuffed
to its matching wrist. Her opposite hand stretched toward the
ceiling, suspended in a cuff by a quivering chain. Not the least
comfortable position in the world. But I was feeling quite
charitable. So far, anyway.
Sabrina was still sound asleep on my bed, so I laid out her clothes
for the morning, unlocked her chastity belt, and went downstairs to
cook myself breakfast. Fifteen minutes later, I was quite pleased to
hear my shower running. When it stopped, I put our plates into the
oven and met her coming out of the bathroom, her hair still
dripping.
"I think you're going to need some help getting dressed this
morning," I said jauntily as I held up the hourglass corset. "But
let's eat breakfast first. Turn around, please."
Click, click, sang the handcuffs, with an encore from the lock
around her waist.
After I finished feeding her, we returned to my bedroom, where I
spent the next hour lacing her into the corset, as well as the thigh-
high boots and a matching pair of shoulder-length gloves. I was
thrilled with the way her waist narrowed to the point where I could
almost touch my fingers when I reached around it. She, however,
didn't seem too enchanted by the constriction.
Sabrina would make quite the domme, I thought to myself as I watched
her check herself out in the full-view mirror.
And now she gets the chance to prove it.
I led her to the door to the studio and clicked on the light at the
top of the stairs.
"Hi, Brenda. Ready to go to work?"
I had to admit my neighbor did look great in rubber. Tottering on a
single ballerina heel laced to her foot in an old-fashioned button
boot, her body shimmied and swayed as the light reflected off the
polished latex that covered every part of her from calves to skull,
with the exception of her eyes, her groin area, which was striped
with rubber garters holding up the stockings, and her breasts, which
poked through holes in the breastplate of her outfit. An Elizabethan
collar rose from her neck like an inverted lampshade, making it
impossible for her to see what was happening to her body below.
The only visible color besides her pink flesh was the white of the
lace headpiece and apron, and the bristle end of the toilet brush
sticking out of her mouth.
I strolled over to Brenda's extended frame and let down her ankle,
then her wrist overhead, quickly snapping her gloved hands into cuffs
dangling from a cincher belt buckled tight around her waist.
"Brenda and I had a very productive discussion about her situation
this morning," I lied to Sabrina, having said nothing to our guest
beyond single-word commands since throwing her in the cage the night
before.
"Obviously, she understands her complicity in your unexpected visit
to her house yesterday afternoon, and desperately wants to make
suitable amends that don't involve my friends in those snazzy blue
uniforms," I continued.
"However, it seems Brenda has developed a rather severe cash flow
problem."
I pulled out the wad of bills Chin had given me yesterday.
"I haven't bothered to count this yet, but I'm sure it represents a
great deal of her total net value. Maybe she even borrowed some from
her friends in the van. No matter. It's mine now."
I passed the roll in front of Brenda's wide eyes before stuffing it
back into my pocket.
"I like to think of myself as a reasonable man, within reason. In
this case, I should simply pocket the proceeds and have you arrested
for kidnapping, perhaps rape, maybe attempted murder. But I imagine
the legal process would be ridiculously long, complicated and
tiresome. So I'm going to propose a different plan."
I walked over and stood next to Sabrina.
"From what I've been told, the best hookers can make $1,000 an hour,
but for that kind of money, limits are pretty much out the window.
However, I'm going to pay you exactly that amount for services
rendered from now until you work off your entire debt to me and
Sabrina."
I turned to address Sabrina.
"Darling, the house is a mess, and unfortunately, it's now your job
to maintain it. However, you can call on Brenda any time you need
some special assistance, and she'll drop everything to serve you.
Isn't that right, Brenda?"
Despite the brush handle in her mouth, the words "fuck you" were
clearly audible.
"Ah, that's exactly the spirit."
I walked over to one of the boxes and pulled out a strap-on dildo,
which I buckled around Sabrina's crotch.
"I want you to start with the toilet in your bathroom. There are
more cleaning supplies under the sink. Please feel free to use
anything of mine in these boxes that you may require for proper
motivation."
I turned to start up the stairs.
"Oh, there's one more thing, Sabrina," I said. "I must warn you
that you are ultimately responsible for Brenda's competence. If her
work does not meet my expectations, you are the one who will be
punished. I will be in the barn. See you in an hour or so."
--Sabrina--
Once in the guest bathroom, I ordered Brenda to kneel down and start
scrubbing the floor behind the toilet. When she refused to comply, I
stressed my point.
"Listen, you bitch. Instead of having fun with Geoffrey, I'm stuck
with you in this fucking bathroom. This truly pisses me off, so get
to work or--"
I lifted the whip I had selected and applied it to her bare ass with
a violence that neither of us expected. Brenda let out a muffled cry
and looked at me with fear in her eyes. Good. She knew I wasn't
kidding.
Brenda got down on her knees and began scrubbing hard, her breasts
sagging below her and moving in rhythm with her head.
Should have brought nipple clamps, I thought with regret, but I had
been so surprised with the turn of events that I had thought of
little else beyond the whip.
When I was satisfied with the bright shine of the tiles, I smacked
her buttocks, less hard this time, and ordered her to clean the
toilet bowl. Once again, she balked and, squatting negligently in
front of me, challenged me with her disobedience. I sighed too
loudly.
"You don't get it, do you, Brenda?"
Thwack. On her breasts. Again. Harder. The third stroke missed
her breasts, but came very near her chin. She started, hitting her
head on the wall behind her.
"You see, I'm not very good at this. No practice, you know. So I'm
gonna use this whip on you until you get your face down the toilet
and I hear the sound of the brush on the ceramic. And if that
doesn't work, I'll use this," I said, pointing at the dildo strapped
around my crotch.
"And not necessarily in the right hole."
She winced as the leather strap bit into her right nipple, but got
up on her knees and stuck her head into the bowl.
I was glad she took my threats seriously. Looking down on the
unnatural apparatus he had fixed on me, I grimaced at the obscene
image of me using it on Brenda.
This wasn't the partnership I had hoped for, I reflected while my
unwilling maid was hard at work. I could have enjoyed this kind of
game with a young woman, or better yet, a young man who would take
pleasure in submitting to me. But not with a dominatrix who had
tried to get rid of me and claim Geoffrey for herself. Brenda was
nothing but a threat, and I strongly resented her presence here.
Instead of the sexual pleasure that such a scene should have
inspired, the room was filled with anger, spite and disappointment.
How long would I have to put up with this? I knew the price Chin had
offered, and that meant Brenda would stay with us for days until she
bought her freedom back.
This was never going to work.
"Brenda, stop," I said, using my normal, quiet voice.
Her red and sweaty face came out of the toilet, and she looked at
me, puzzled.
"I don't like this."
Then, seeing she didn't understand the meaning of my words, I went
straight to the point.
"I don't want you in this house, Brenda. In fact, I never want to
see your face again."
The way she straightened up showed me she knew where this
conversation was heading. Her expression shifted from concern to
curiosity. The self-assured Brenda was resurfacing.
"I'm going to help you out of here," I went on, walking towards her.
"But let me warn you..."
I took her chin in my gloved hand and pulled her head up, forcing
her to look at me.
"If you ever talk about this to anyone, I'll bust you for kidnapping
and attempted murder. Is that clear?"
Brenda's vigorous nod was all I needed. I let her stand up and we
both went two floors down, back to the studio.
I had never seen Geoffrey use more than one or two keys on my
restraints, and I suspected most of the locks were identical. My
guess was right; once I had found a set of spare keys in a drawer, it
only took me a couple of minutes to free Brenda of her bondage.
"Pick up some clothes over there," I told her, waving to the rack.
While she removed her rubber costume and searched for a new outfit
to wear, I sat on the edge of the stage, oblivious to her presence in
the room. I wasn't happy about countermanding Geoffrey's orders, but
this was sadly necessary. I hadn't come to term with my own
feelings, let alone my relationship with him, and I didn't want to
confront an interloper like Brenda at this early stage. I had enough
to worry about: leaving my apartment, quitting my job, and not being
able to tell a soul of my new lifestyle.
But Brenda interrupted my musing.
"He's going to punish you for this, you know," she said.
I raised my eyes to meet hers.
"I know."
Then, as we stared at each other, we followed the same thoughts, and
suddenly all the tension dissipated as we broke into laughter.
"Well, Sabrina," she said, "you do deserve him!"
I smiled and got up.
"I don't know if I deserve him, but I'm going to find out. What
about you? Are you going to stick around?"
"No, I don't think so. You've kinda ruined my reputation." Brenda
winked before continuing. "I think it's time to move my dungeon to a
new location. Maybe somewhere sunny."
I nodded, relieved to know she was getting out of my way for good.
Remembering the ticking clock, I ushered her out.
"Take the front door and walk to the main road. I'm sure you won't
have trouble getting a lift dressed like that."
She had put on a leather micro with enough cleavage to attract the
first male driver passing by. And her stiletto heels would do
wonders, too.
After a short but sincere goodbye hug, I watched Brenda disappear
down the driveway, and went searching for the few accessories I
needed. Negligence was better than sheer disobedience, I thought to
myself while I buckled the penis gag around my head.
I entered the cage that lay in the middle of the stage, shut the
door and finally cuffed my hands to a bar in my back. I didn't think
I'd have to wait too long until Geoffrey found me.
--Geoffrey--
"Sabriiiina, I'm home," I said in my best Ricky Ricardo imitation as
I shook off the rain from my slicker.
No response. Strange. I hung up my coat and went upstairs, only to
find an empty, yet clean bathroom.
"Sabrina, Brenda, where are you?" I called out, trying to mask my
sudden nervousness. Had something terrible happened? I had been
careful to lock up Brenda securely. Had she somehow gained the upper
hand?
In this case, no news is definitely bad news, I thought as I made a
quick check of the bedrooms, then the first floor. Finally, I
hurried down the stairs to the studio.
"What the fuck?" I blurted when I saw Sabrina gagged and cuffed
inside the cage that had held Brenda only hours earlier.
Before I realized what I was doing, I had wheeled around and stormed
back upstairs. Yanking my slicker off the hook, I kicked open the
back door and stepped off the porch into a driving downpour.
Great, and the car's tires are flat. Going to have to ride one of
the horses to Brenda's house. I ducked my head low and headed down
the path toward the barn.
That fucking bitch. Lord, I would make Brenda pay this time. None
of this nice-guy stuff like this morning. I'd even scare myself with
the tortures I'd inflict on her.
As water streamed down my forehead into my eyes, I started to build
my case. Brenda must have somehow overpowered Sabrina. But how
could she have gotten free? Had she forced Sabrina to unlock the
cuffs? Not very likely.
Meaning what? Sabrina set Brenda free intentionally? Then why was
Sabrina locked in the cage?
My foot slipped sideways in the mudslide that had replaced the dirt
path to the barn. Shit, what was going on here? There was no
practical way Brenda could have escaped without Sabrina's help. Did
Sabrina let her go, then allow herself to be locked in the cage? If
that was the case, why? Okay, so maybe Sabrina didn't fancy herself
much of a top, although she sure looked like a pro that afternoon
when she whipped Brenda all the way to the barn.
I stopped and stared back at the house, now barely visible through
the mist. Or maybe Sabrina didn't want anything to do with Brenda,
and this was her way of putting things back the way they were 24
hours ago.
But even that was a puzzle, because as I recalled, she had been on
the verge of leaving me, then she asked to be strapped to the cross,
then all hell broke loose. But it seemed to me that things had been
quite thoroughly helter skelter long before Brenda and her droogies
arrived.
I desperately wished I could go for a ride, but I didn't dare risk
one of the horses taking a fall on the slick turf. Instead, I turned
around and headed back for the house, quite unsure of what I was
going to say, much less do, to Sabrina.
I lowered my head and jammed my hands into my pocket, my fingers
bumping into the roll of Brenda's cash. I wondered if she was really
gone for good. If so, this wad would cover a lot of corsets.
I reached the house and peeled off all my soaking clothes on the
porch. After a shower, I changed into a simple shirt and leather
pants, then went downstairs to my studio to start the rest of our
lives.
--Sabrina--
Shit. What was Geoffrey doing? My stomach was so cramped that I
was afraid of throwing up the minute he took off the gag. He had
come and gone like a fury. And he had looked so angry, I instantly
lost the quiet resignation I had built up while waiting. Oh, he
wasn't angry at me. But he would be. Once he found out. Because I
was certain he would know what really happened; either he'd have
enough clues to guess, or I would simply tell him. Presuming Brenda
didn't beat me to it.
I had made up a plausible story, though. Brenda had suddenly looked
very uncomfortable, like she got hit by a terrible pain. When I
ungagged her, she told me something inside the rubber costume was
biting through her skin. She thought she was bleeding. A bit of
nonsense, I admit, but she looked really bad and, well, I'm afraid I
believed her. So I took her down to the studio to take off her
bondage. And, well, she somehow managed to take control of the
situation. Oh, sure, I should have called him instead, but I didn't
want to bother him, and I thought I could handle this all by myself.
I was sorry. Really.
I wasn't sure Geoffrey would buy it, but he had no evidence to the
contrary, so he'd have to believe me.
But I hadn't thought he would take the matter so seriously. He
looked really mad. Now I wasn't so sure about my story. I was such
a bad liar, too.
That's when the cramps appeared. I had thought all I would have to
go through was a good whipping for my negligence, and I knew I could
handle that. But it suddenly became obvious that a whip would be
much too amenable a tool for such a terrible act of disobedience.
What else could he do?
By the time Geoffrey returned, I had imagined so many horrid
tortures, he hardly needed to punish me anymore. I was already
burning in hell, with guilt and remorse as my companions. And my
worst fear was that he would send me away.
He remained silent until I was out of the cage. Then he unbuckled
the gag and, letting me sit on the nearby stool, he finally spoke.
"What happened?"
I swallowed and wished I could ask the Starship Enterprise to beam
me up. Danger ahead.
"I...Brenda...she..."
Oh lord, I looked up and saw he was calmly waiting for an answer.
But his piercing eyes belied his cool attitude.
"I...I...let her go."
I closed my eyes, waiting for the lightning to strike.
"Why?"
He was so calm, my fears doubled in intensity.
"I...I..."
He sighed.
"Don't test my patience, Sabrina."
"I didn't want...I was afraid you'd..."
Then I cracked up and a flow of words came out as if a dam had been
broken.
"I know what I did was terribly wrong, but I'm losing my senses
here. I can't think straight anymore. You've had me on a bloody
Tilt-o-whirl for almost two weeks, and I don't even know who I am
anymore. And then yesterday, I was kidnapped. Now, this probably
looked like another fun game to you, but not to me. Those guys were
awful, and I panicked at the thought of being sold to some fucking
Asian whorehouse. Then I had to fight Brenda, and you know, I've
never fought anyone or anything beyond the flu. Then I rode a horse,
for crying out loud, and in case I haven't told you, horses scare the
shit out of me! And then there's you. One minute, you kiss me, the
next you bring this...this woman to your house."
I was crying, but nothing, not the tears, not Geoffrey's bewildered
look, not even the fact that I knew I looked stupid and probably made
my case worse, could have stopped me from talking my heart out.
"And, and you never tell me anything, and I never know what you want
or feel. Hell, I don't even know what's happening to me. Why do I
want to stay here with a man I hardly know, who has me gallop in a
dirt ring, or won't let me say more than two words? This is a little
bit too much. Just a little bit too much. But I do, you know. I do
want to stay."
I felt pathetic, but at least I'd gotten it out of my system, and a
weight had been lifted off my chest. I realized this outburst would
probably earn me the door, but maybe Brenda was wrong. Maybe I
didn't deserve him.
--Geoffrey--
I stared at Sabrina silently for several heartbeats, focusing on the
imperatives of the situation.
Upon reflection, I was quite pleased about the way events had
transpired, as the last thing I needed was a full-time girlfriend
with dominatrix designs on me; one of Brenda's many fatal flaws.
But this one couldn't even pretend to be a top. Instead, Brenda had
been given the bum's rush, and Sabrina had jailed herself.
Encouraging.
And so were her last words...soon to be famous.
"So you want to stay," I said slowly.
"Yes...please," she finally added.
"You realize that means you will be treated in a manner many people
would classify as cruel."
"Yesss...please."
"No better than chattel not fit for the harem."
"Yes, please."
"My fucktoy."
"Yes, please."
"My painslut."
"Yes, please."
"A fetish doll."
"Yes, please."
"A leather slave."
"Yes, please."
"A rubber maid."
"Yes...yes, please."
"A masturbation aid."
"Yes, please!"
"An animal."
"Yes...please."
"Furniture."
"Yes. Just plain yes, damn it!"
"That didn't sound like 'yes, please.' Open your mouth."
I picked up the penis gag off the floor and installed it.
"Hands behind your back."
Properly attired with the cuffs behind her back, I beckoned her to
follow me upstairs.
"Come."
--Sabrina--
And here we go again, I thought to myself while Geoffrey was leading
me upstairs. He hadn't helped me clear my state of confusion in the
slightest, but I felt better, safe in the knowledge that he was back
in command. I followed him like a faithful dog. I had no tail to
wag, but physical reactions appropriate for a human female proved
that I was pleased.
He opened the doors to his master's suite and, once inside, ordered
me to stand still. He first unlaced the corset, bringing an
involuntary sigh of relief to my mouth as my torso suddenly recovered
the few centimeters it needed to breathe fully. Next, he removed the
boots, leaving me with nothing but the shoulder-length gloves and the
chastity belt.
Geoffrey turned his back to me to rummage in the upper drawer of a
massive oak chest. He took a moment to look out of the window on his
left side and seemed happy to notice the rain had stopped. With the
shadow of a smile on his face, he came back to me, holding two black
dildos, one too long, the other too wide, which soon filled me as he
locked them under the belt.
Finally, he walked to the huge wardrobe on the other side of the bed
and opened a side door where neat piles of T-shirts and sweaters
covered all the shelves.
Except for the bottom one, I noticed as I moved closer, following
his order. The last compartment, high enough to store a big travel
bag, was completely empty. Well, no, not completely. There were
leather straps hanging from the sides, and two iron bolts strangely
drilled at equal distance in the middle of the wooden base.
"Get in."
I gave him my best "are you crazy?" look, but seeing he meant it, I
knelt down and crawled inside the closet. When my cuffed hands
touched the back frame, I folded my legs against my chest and
realized I fit into the case perfectly. My head was barely scraping
the upper shelf.
Geoffrey knelt down to tie a large strap around my waist, pinning me
to the frame without the slightest slack, and then fixed my ankles to
each side of the compartment. With my crotch exposed, he had no
problem padlocking the chastity belt to the bolts. There's a purpose
to every single fucking screw in this house, I wanted to tell him
sarcastically.
When I thought he was finished, he inserted one finger between my
vagina and its chromium protection, and twisted the bottom of the
occupying force to a very low setting.
And he closed the door.
For the first few minutes, I let my thoughts wander back and forth
between the past events and my unknown future. I had felt so good
last night, when I had fallen asleep in his lap, I thought my doubts
had dissipated completely. But knowing what I wanted didn't put my
inquisitive mind to rest so easily. My body had been tamed, but my
spirits had a hard time waving the white flag. I wondered how long
it would take to appease that part of me, the part that was always
trying to be in control, on top of things. The part that needed to
understand, to give a rational reason to everything I did or feel.
Could it be tamed, too?
I trusted Geoffrey to do what was right. My problem was, I couldn't
trust myself to do as much.
Soon, the vibrations, low as they were, became too distracting and,
before I realized it, they took control over my rebellious thoughts.
My body was aroused while my mind was put at peace.
This is why I'm in here, I mused while I slowly surrendered to the
physical sensations in my vagina. I don't know how he does it, but
he knows me better than I know myself. Here I am, not a slave, not
an animal, not even a piece of furniture. Just a household object he
has put away until he needs it. And this oddly erotic image doubled
the effects of the vibrator.
When a sudden ray of light blinded my eyes, accustomed as they were
to complete darkness, I was enthralled by the growing pleasure
buzzing inside me. A heavy blend of sweat and horse smell reached my
nostrils, and I inhaled more deeply. Responding to this strong male
intrusion, my sex clenched the dildo a little tighter, too.
"Since you're enjoying this," I heard Geoffrey say without seeing
his face, "I'll take a shower and let you enjoy it a while longer."
Oh, no. Now I was truly needy. And knowing he was so close, naked,
taking a shower, turned me into a horny beast. While I heard the
faint sounds of water running in the bathroom, I imagined his hands
on my body, caressing, rubbing, pinching. The vibrations of the
dildo became his own pulses inside me. He was fucking me, but, Lord,
not hard enough. Losing my sense of reality, I tried to move my hips
to accelerate the rhythm, but both my back and crotch were firmly
immobilized, and I moaned desperately.
His shower must have been the longest he ever took in his life.
--Geoffrey--
Sabrina must be insane, I told myself while toweling off. Most
girls inevitably gave up the game and return to their boring lives
and loves. Just like that Hole song; they get what they want, and
they never want it again.
But Sabrina was turning into the Energizer bunny of bondage. She
keeps going and going, no matter how horrible her fate.
I began to feel bad that I had kept her in such a state of agitated
confusion for so long. But better to get these things out in the
open early rather than have the "honey, we need to talk" conversation
six months later. Because I really didn't want this relationship to
rust like most of the others had; victims of excess and guilt and
boredom and whatever else turned the wine of passion into the vinegar
of partnership.
I didn't even bother to get dressed.
"Sabrina," I said after I had taken her out of the closet, removed
all her encumbrances, and sat her naked on the side of my bed.
"Here's the straight story. I like you very, very much, and I would
very much like you to move in with me as my official and exclusive
girlfriend."
I shut up for a moment to let her absorb what I had said.
"If that works for you, that is."
After several heartbeats passed, I felt a surge of panic, thinking
she was going to finally say no. Then she looked at me unblinkingly,
took my hands into hers, and clenched them tight.
"On one condition," she said with the barest hint of venom. "No
other women. Ever."
"Agreed," I said without hesitating.
"Then yes, please, and thank you," she replied, smiling broadly.
I pulled her close to me, our bare chests pressing against each
other, and gave her a kiss that I hoped would make her see stars.
"You must be starving," I finally said when we disentangled several
minutes later. "Why don't you go downstairs to the kitchen and
rustle yourself something to eat while I get dressed. Oh, and
Sabrina..."
I picked up her chastity belt off the floor and held it out to her.
--Sabrina--
Still fazed, but happily so, by Geoffrey's offer and his quick
acceptance of my exclusivity demand, I took the belt in my hand.
Contrasting with my body temperature, its metallic touch felt icy
cold and definitely unwelcome. After his passionate kiss, I refused
to believe he really wanted me to put it on. I was starving, but not
for a plate of salad.
If there was ever a right time to ask him a special favor, it was
there and then. I decided to take my chances and slowly lay down the
belt on the side of the bed.
"Would you please...make love...to me?"
One second of silence.
"Say that again."
"Would you...fuck me...please?" I repeated while I mentally added
"and if you refuse, you're obviously not doing yourself a favor
either."
"On one condition," he said with the barest hint of irony. "You
don't come until I say so. In fact, from now on, this will be a
permanent rule."
I so desperately needed to be fucked that I would have agreed to
anything. In truth, I had no idea of how I would refrain myself from
coming if he teased me the way he usually did. But I dismissed the
thought as a technical detail I would deal with later on.
"Agreed."
Stepping closer, he took me under the arms and pushed me further on
the bed. I lay down, unsure of what to do with my free hands. I
wanted to grab him, bring him closer, dig my nails in his back, but I
was too conditioned, too well "trained," I guess, and I simply raised
my arms above my head in a gesture of submission.
Reading my body language perfectly, he put an end to my hesitations.
"Grab the bed frame and don't you dare let it go."
While I was restraining myself, he got to work, exploring my body as
if he discovered it for the first time, but slowing down in those
places that had a direct line to my sex. I wished I could tell him
to skip those preliminaries, since I was more than ready for the
final act, but I had to take what he gave, even if it made me growl
like a wolf.
Feeling his crotch so close to mine, I straddled his back with my
legs and pushed him down.
"Legs down and spread out," he ordered, half serious, half amused.
I resumed the position and tried not to lose it again, Geoffrey's
will becoming mine, his command becoming my aim to please him. My
hands clenched the wooden frame harder as I strained to lie still.
When his fingers brushed against my clit, on their way down to my
sex, I felt a small quake in its surrounding area. I remembered my
promise and wondered how I was going to keep it.
--Geoffrey--
After teasing Sabrina for a few moments, I finally entered her with
an erection that felt like it was made out of metal.
I could instantly tell she was struggling mightily to restrain
herself from letting go, and truth be told, I was thinking an awful
lot about the Yankees, the grocery list, and that time I saw my
grandmother naked when I was five. I had waited much too long for
this moment, and now I had to deal with my bravado about her only
being allowed to come on my command.
No way was I going to come first. I tried to slow down my rhythm,
but that almost made things worst.
I sneaked a peak at Sabrina's face. Almost smirking. I considered
pulling out, but then I was either going to lose it on the bed, or
I'd have to sneak off to the bathroom.
Maybe a grand finale in her mouth; no, that wasn't really fair. To
either of us. Besides, I was really enjoying this battle of wills,
not to mention the liquid silk between her legs. But I had a weapon
I had forbidden from her arsenal; my fingers.
I reached down and brushed a nail against her clitoris. Maybe three
seconds later, she was bucking like a bronco after being branded. On
my next thrust, my cock responded in kind.
"That's...going...to...oh, forget it," I laughed as I held her in my
arms, enjoying her convulsions almost as much as my own.
"You can...let go...of the sides...of...the bed...if you want," I
added, trying my very best not to pant.
Apparently, she did, as she hugged me hard enough to make breathing
difficult.
I rested until my heartbeat returned to human levels, then
maneuvered my face in front of hers.
"You really want to stay?"
"Yes, please!" she responded, practically giggling.
"Agreed."
Well, who was I to argue?
I rolled out from under her and off the bed onto my feet.
"I shall forgive your earlier outburst of speech, but coming without
permission will not be tolerated. Downstairs. Now."
She popped off the bed, her body glistening with sweat and other
fluids.
"Yes, please," she said, her head bowed to avoid eye contact.
"Look at me when you dare to speak," I growled. When I saw her face
again, I had to resist the urge to kiss her.
Then I figured, oh, what the hell. Best to get her used to every
extreme.
She would certainly come to know them all.
I led her into my study and told her to stand by the bookshelf that
covered one wall. In the center was an empty section that stretched
up to a cabinet maybe a meter wide. I removed the large pot holding
a rubber tree plant that filled the space, revealing two eyebolts
screwed into the walls just above the floor.
I opened the doors to the cabinet.
"Stand here," I beckoned, removing the shelf, or at least half of it.
She looked at me curiously.
"Feet here," I said, pointing to the eyebolts. "Facing out."
She stepped up to the bookshelf and spread her legs.
"Hands up. That's it, over the shelf."
She finally noticed the holes cut into the wood for her wrists and
neck.
"Don't move."
I dashed downstairs to get cuffs for her ankles, mittens for her
hands, a collar, the pump gag, tweezer clamps, weights, padlocks,
plus a new toy.
When everything was in place on her, I pushed in the other section
of the shelf, locking her leather-wrapped wrists and neck firmly
between the boards. Then I held up the device, a small plastic box
with what looked like a glass eye in the middle.
"It's a motion detector," I explained. "If it senses something
moving, it triggers a switch that turns on a light, or maybe an
alarm. They're usually used for outdoor locations like driveways.
Gotta be careful not to make them too sensitive; otherwise, every
squirrel in the neighborhood would be a menace. But for our
purposes, we'll dial it down to its lowest setting so the slightest
twitch will trigger it."
I put it down between her cuffed ankles, and picked up the tiny
vibrator equipped with two long wires trailing off it, plus a roll of
electrical tape.
"Nasty little fucker. Runs like a turbine on rocket fuel."
I encased her shaved crotch in tape, the oversized bullet pressed
firmly against her clitoris.
"Every time you move, it runs for five minutes. Move while it's
running, and it resets itself back to five minutes."
I reached up and grabbed the edges of the cabinet's doors.
"This will help you learn to only come when you have permission."
I pushed them shut and connected the handles with a padlock.
--Sabrina--
Oh, bummer. Another closet. This was the perfect house for playing
hide-and-seek. Except Geoffrey had switched around the rules. He
was hiding me, not seeking me.
And now was not the time for staying immobile. My spirits were so
high, all I wanted to do was jump, run, talk, laugh, whatever would
allow me to express my cheerfulness. Instead, I was alone, forced to
silence and stillness.
Silence was easy. Stillness wasn't. For once, I wished my
restraints were much tighter than they were. I had way too much
slack. If only I could lean against the frame and just take a rest.
But no, that would be too easy, wouldn't it, Geoffrey?
Minutes passed. I wondered how long he would leave me here. Then,
I remembered a song and began to hum it in my mind.
"In your room. Where time stands still. Or moves at your will.
Will you let the morning come soon? Or leave me lying here?"
Was Depeche Mode singing about bondage? "Your favorite slave." So
appropriate indeed.
"Will I always be here?" The words filled my head with new levels of
meaning. I let the thought of the song flow through me, closing my
eyes to feel its powerful bass line stir deeper in me.
Suddenly, the vibrator jumped to life. Damn it, I must have moved
my legs.
Remembering his instructions, I ordered my hips to ignore the
friction. Inside my body, various hidden muscles clenched, in an
effort to alleviate the tension without any external movement. It
worked. After what seemed like half an hour, but was probably only
five minutes, the vibrations stopped. I hadn't come. Round one,
score 1-0.
Careful not to move again, I slowed down my breathing, made painful
and difficult by the gag. I wouldn't be able to pull that stunt too
many times. Don't move, I admonished myself. Don't sing. Don't
even think. Just stand still and wait.
And wait, and wait, and wait.
The game wasn't fun anymore. I wanted to get out. I needed to
stretch. Or bend over. Any movement would do. To add to my plight,
I was hungry, too. And I could definitely use the bathroom.
I must have moved again. This time, however, the vibrations didn't
stop after five minutes. They went on. I stopped caring about
standing still. I let go and came almost instantly. My clit was on
fire and hurt like hell. And I came again.
In a flash of sanity, I summoned all my energy to put my body to a
rest. Wincing under the effort, I was able to control myself long
enough to stop the little dynamo.
Again, I tried to calm down, my lungs aching from a terrible lack of
air, but the two minutes of grace I gained was too short. One of my
legs failed me. The vibrator didn't.
--Geoffrey--
I could stare at Sabrina's body all day, especially when it was
quivering in the throes of yet another forbidden orgasm. I
particularly liked the way the weights bounced under her breasts as
she struggled to bring her limbs to a complete standstill.
It was so much easier to deal with submissive men; lock their cocks
in a cage, and they'd never come again unless their mistress or
master felt merciful. Or make them come twice, and they wouldn't get
hard again for hours. Women's climaxes were like ocean waves rather
than bombs, and much more difficult to control, not to mention train.
But what fun we would have trying.
I waited until the vibrator had run for 15 minutes straight before
shutting down the motion detector, removing the tape and the clamps,
and uncuffing her ankles. When I finally opened the cabinet holding
her head, I wasn't surprised her eyes were barely open.
I pulled out the piece of the shelf holding her hands and neck, and
led her out of the bookshelf. After I deflated and removed the
bladder from her mouth, I pointed to an iron X on the floor in front
of the couch, the cuffs attached to the four ends open and ready for
her wrists and thighs.
"On your hands and knees," I commanded. When she hesitated, I found
myself getting angry, but then she gave me a desperate look and waved
a mittened hand over her groin.
I nodded my head, chuckling out loud when she practically sprinted
to the bathroom.
I made sure I had everything else ready: a large plug for her ass,
the flogger, a spreader bar for her ankles, and the penis gag trainer
for later. She would spend the rest of the evening as my coffee
table, providing support for my plate, glass and silverware while
eating her own supper from a bowl on the floor. But first, she would
be punished for her transgressions, which had mounted steadily all
day: speaking out of turn, refusing to follow instructions, and
especially all those forbidden orgasms.
I wondered if she disobeyed so she would taste more of the whip?
Perhaps she herself didn't really know. But I did know that my
feelings for her were growing exponentially, placing me in the
classic conundrum of a top; does one show affection to a partner by
increasing her suffering? Cruel to be kind, thank you, Nick Lowe by
way of William S. Or does one occasionally break down the artifice
of the power exchange relationship and act "normal"?
I wasn't sure if I would ever figure that one out. I had seen many
similar relationships founder and sink on these exact shoals.
But again, what fun we would have trying.
I noticed that more than ten minutes had passed since she ran off to
the bathroom.
"Sabrina?" I called out anxiously, putting down the flogger and
hastening down the hall. "Are you okay?"
Fortunately, the door to the bathroom was unlocked. And there sat
Sabrina on the toilet, her head pressed against the towel hanging
from a rack, fast asleep.
I felt a wave of emotion wash over my body. Poor thing, I thought
as I gently scooped her off the seat into my arms. Time for you to
join the other angels in the land of nod.
I carried her upstairs to my bedroom, pulled back the covers, and
lay her on the sheet. I took off her collar, but left the mittens in
place. A quick trip to the studio produced a long leather leash,
which I used to tie her wrists loosely over her head to a bedpost.
"Goodnight, Sabrina," I said softly as I pulled the comforter over
her elongated form. "I'll join you in a little while."
After supper, I sat down to respond to some long-neglected
correspondence. Some kind of bondage convention wanted me to lead a
half-day workshop for budding pornographers, for which they offered
to cover all my expenses in addition to a healthy honorarium. I
thought for a moment about how Sabrina would look standing next to me
at the podium, arms bindered, waist corseted, legs encased in thigh-
high leather, a bit gag in her mouth, and a leash trailing down from
a posture collar to a cuff around my wrist. Definitely worth a trip
to Washington, D.C. We might even stay for all three days of the
conference.
Bills, bills, catalogs, junk--hmm, an invitation to Brenda's mid-
summer bash. I crumpled up the embossed paper and threw it into the
fireplace without a second look.
Finally, I logged onto the Internet to check the progress of
Sabrina's auction. As expected, my ridiculous offers had scared off
other bidders. Pity it was my grand finale in this particular
enterprise. I could hardly wait for the close of business in Hong
Kong early tomorrow.
As I prepared to turn in, I checked the weather report. Late-night
clouds giving way to sunshine, the virtual meteorologist reported.
Excellent. I planned on a double session with Sabrina in the ring to
make up for today's rainout.
But first, I wanted to let her sleep as long as she needed. Of
course, I might interrupt her dreams occasionally as my desires
demanded. But I was quite confident she wouldn't mind the
distraction in the slightest.
Starting now, I smiled, peeling off my shirt as I walked up the
stairs.
