MAD ABOUT MANDY

By

Anne Gray

(A sequel to Meddling with Mandy)

I had taken Mandy on Friday night and kept her in very severe bondage that included introducing her to the computer breath control program on Sunday.

Now it was Monday morning and, acting on a hunch, I had left her helplessly strapped to my "worktable" and driven to a pay phone.

The phone number of her office was in my research files. I placed a call to them indicating that I was a friend of Mandy's and she had been called out of town on a family emergency but would get in touch with them as soon as the situation allowed.

Back home I stood looking down at the leather encased form. She had been gagged all the time and I had fed her by just removing the plug from the middle of the hard rubber ring wedged behind her teeth. I had poured in a variety of concoctions that I liquefied in a blender to keep her energy up and make sure she didn't dehydrate.

Mandy's other functions were easily controlled by occasionally moving the dumb, blind and tightly restrained girl over to the toilet and pulling out the hard rubber shafts that plugged her.

My hunch was based on a look! The previous day after her session with the computer, I had removed the gas mask to wipe the sweat from her face and change the blindfold she had been wearing since she pulled it on herself Friday night. In the very few moments that our eyes had met, before hers were covered again, I had seen something that had kept me puzzled and thinking ever since.

I decided to test my theory and made the preparations.

Sitting eating lunch I watched Mandy's body convulse against the leather and chains holding her in position as she had her fourth orgasm.

She was on her back on the floor with her legs laced in heelless ballet boots then doubled back to her thighs and strapped with the feet hard against her buttocks. A spreader bar kept her knees stretched wide apart and from the middle of it the impaling rod extended to hold the dildo and butt plug buried within her lower orifices. Short chains from each end of the spreader bar held it down to a couple of floor rings.

Her arms were locked across her back in another version of the straight jacket that left her breasts bulging in all their glory through the tight leather. They in turn were topped by a pair of vibrating nipple clamps inside clear latex suction cups. The heavily boned corset was forcing her waist down to an amazingly small diameter and chains on either side of the waist attached it to two more rings in the floor.

A stiffened leather neck brace also sported two chains. I had laced it on after working her head into the kid discipline helmet so that it covered the bottom of the laces down the back of her head.

The helmet had a detachable eye cover and I had replaced her gag with an inflatable one that was pumped up to the capacity of her mouth, but only held in place by its size and a strap from buckles under each ear.

The computer was in play again controlling, not only the airflow through the nostril plugs, but the suction cups covering the clamps on each nipple. The dildo and butt plug had been going full blast since I finished the set-up. The moans and groans getting passed the gag, along with the muscle contractions that were obvious even through her leather bonds, allowed me to keep count of her climaxes as I sat eating.

Now it was time to test my hunch. With swift movements I shut off the computer and the plugs, then released the gag strap buckles under her ears. I partially deflated the gag. Then, holding the straps in one hand and the edge of the blindfold in the other, I simultaneously pulled the gag free and peeled the blindfold away from its Velcro anchors.

I looked down into the tear filled eyes and could detect not the slightest hint of fear. She worked her jaw for a moment, and then licked her lips and I heard "Thank you. Oh, God, whoever you are thank you so much!"

My hunch had been correct; what I'd seen in her eyes for that moment on Sunday was satisfaction and pleasure!

Now we sat side by side on the chesterfield talking. I was wearing a white satin blouse, ankle length black leather skirt and 6" pumps. Mandy, freshly showered, sat rather stiffly in a long-line boned leather corset, a black arm binder locking her arms behind her and a single leg ballet boot sheath welding her legs together. From the neck up she was unrestrained. The red hair, shampooed and then brushed until it gleamed to match the glint in her green eyes, surrounded a face freshly made up and sporting a pair of glossy red lips.

My left arm was around her shoulders with my hand cupping her breast as it jutted out above the corset. Her nipples were standing to attention and proved to be very sensitive, because every so often there would be a sharp intake of breath that interrupted the flow of her words.

All her life, ever since she could remember, she had felt different, and all her life she had been shy. Not in business, she was very good at her job, but in sharing with anyone else the inner feelings that she didn't understand. During her late teens and early twenties she had dated as was expected of a "normal" person. But no matter how nice the guy was she felt nothing. The advent of the computer, and the worlds it opened to her, made her realize that she was not alone. But even with the anonymity it offered, she was still too shy to express or share her feelings with anyone.

The computer had, however, given her the opportunity to privately indulge herself to an extent by being able to buy the fetish clothing and toys. Then, after she had found certain other sites that awoke more latent emotions in her that she still couldn't bring herself to share with others, she started ordering self-bondage equipment.

This had led to her finally finding a form of sexual self-release, but it had been nothing like the mind shattering sensations while under my control for the last three days. She had never experienced anything so intensely satisfying and believed it was because she had no control of the situation, but was completely at the mercy of whoever was doing those things to her.

I had some decisions to make!

Did I believe her? Yes!

Could I trust her after what I had done to her? I thought so!

Where did we go from here? Now that was the big question!

So first we went to bed in the middle of the afternoon. Mandy was still bound, somewhat less stringently, but completely helpless. I introduced her to a double dildo and she loved it; so did I. Time after time we reached peaks that just grew higher until finally we collapsed into a satisfied, satiated slumber.

By Wednesday, I had made up my mind and explained to Mandy how things would be if she agreed. Mind you, if she hadn't, she would go the same way as the other unwilling acquisitions and my bank account would grow accordingly. But she was different and I thought we could build on that difference, on her innocence and on her learning to let me continue to release those feelings she had repressed for most of her life.

Sure, I had kidnapped her, but that had led to her finally sharing her deepest secrets for the first time with another person. If you will forgive the obvious pun, I felt that it had established a bond between us that could only get stronger.

After she agreed to my proposal, we spent Thursday playing. She was bound in several very original ways and I played with her!

On Friday we went back to where it had started. She made the journey in the passenger seat of my car with her ankles wrapped in Velcro straps to one of the legs of the front seat. Her kid-gloved hands were joined by thumb cuffs and held in place by the seat belt. Part of our agreement was that anytime I felt like it, she would be restrained and at my mercy.

I released her and, after she had changed her clothes, we visited the landlord of her apartment. It was agreed that, for a price, she could move out at the end of the month. Then we stopped at her office; she liked her job and wanted to keep it. Mandy was well liked at the office and they agreed that she could take another week to recover from her "loss", returning the following Monday.

Mandy was going to move in with me and we, well, actually I, had decided that any money she earned from now on would go to increase the collection of bondage equipment and both our leather and latex wardrobes. The first garments I intended to get her were a couple of capes that would disguise the fact she was bound whenever I had her out in public.

And that's how Mandy came to stay with me and settled down to a routine of working five days a week then coming home to walk through the front door and be transformed in to my bondage slave. It worked out for both of us. We each had exactly what we wanted and enjoyed life to the fullest. An added benefit was the money I made posting pictures of Mandy, in increasingly exotic bondage, to various contacts on the net!

After a couple of months Mandy started coming home from work looking miserable but wouldn't tell me why. Then one day I could tell she had been crying. I pounced on her, laced her securely in a leather bondage suit and strapped her in a chair at the dining room table then dragged the problem out of her.

One of the other girls at the accounting office seemed to have it in for her for some unknown reason and since she was a step above Mandy in seniority she was getting the shots in and making her look bad with upper management.

The girl was only a year or so older than Mandy. She was single and, since I had met her on one occasion, I would describe her as voluptuous. Instead of dinner, I shoved a gag in Mandy's mouth and went to open a new research file.