The Magic of Daphne: Training

Ch. 1

I felt I was the luckiest guy in the world.  My dream girl, Daphne, the world’s foremost female escape artist and hottest body in Las Vegas was looking to me for companionship.  I could hardly imagine that a sexpot celebrity would live such a lonely, isolated life in her giant mansion.  Who would have thought she would try dangerous illusions in her home studio without supervision.  I seemed to have found a niche both as a boyfriend and assistant.

With all we’ve been through already, I sense Daphne still does not trust me.  Maybe it’s her very private sensibilities that have kept so many people away for so long.  Whatever her hang-up, I was about to get as close to her physically as two people can get without having sex.

“Lock me in this, sweetheart.”

She was holding a thick, posey leather straightjacket that for any normal individual would be considered a fetish outfit.  But for her there was nothing sexual about it.  This was serious business (although she was wearing just the panties and T-shirt she just woke-up in and looked damn hot).

Feeling already like a veteran assistant, I quickly put her arms through the sleeves and did the leather straps in the back as tight as possible.  Anything less than that, she would criticize.  Each strap gave a moan as I was squeezing air out of her lungs.  The large collar strap was self-explanatory and I expertly locked the arms with the intricate front strap even though I had never seen this suit before.  She was already testing out her range of motion and the large black ‘monolith’ of leather did not budge.

“Follow me.”

I followed her into the bathroom where I noted that the large indoor spa was already full with the jets turned on.  On the marble counter were a number of chains and padlocks and a key ring with color coated keys.  There were also other leather materials there.

“Now do the crotch strap.”

She was smart not to leave the walking until after I placed the crotch strap, because I did it hard and the strap was unusually narrow.  It had the surprising consequence of spreading her pussy lips and putting pressure on her clit.  She immediately began hopping on one foot because it was painful to keep both legs on the ground, but she gave a cocky smile as if to say ‘no big deal.’

“I’ll just have to adjust the strap width later,” she said with a breathless tone.  “Now wrap that long chain around me, but go through the metal rings on the jacket.  Then lock it on with these padlocks wherever you think would constrict my motion the most.  Don’t be shy.”

“Oh, I wont be,” I said.  Of course I was always secretly assessing her safety.

I wrapped the chains and it was obvious that going through the rings meant she couldn’t simply slide the chains down.  She would have to get her arms out, pick the locks and then loosen the chains.  I placed some locks in her lower and upper back, out of reach, and I locked them to rings so the chain could no longer be pulled through.  Two of the rings were on the crotch strap and I pulled the chain hard between the legs and locked it to the nest of chains around her front arm strap.  She immediately groaned “ugh!” and began her foot hopping dance again from one leg to the next.  It was obvious though that this didn’t lessen the pressure at all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”  I’ve almost never seen her swear or lose her cool.

“I’ll unlock that ch…” “No don’t!” she interrupted.  She swallowed hard.  “I can handle it.”

“Not this macho crap again Daphne.  We’ve already had this talk about you hurting yourself too much.  Now hold still while I unlock the crotch locks.”

“Brad, you need to understand that I need to keep challenging myself with you here because I need worst case scenarios now instead of on stage in front of high priced ticket holders.”  She wasn’t pleading with me, she was ordering me.  Yet, I could tell she could barely keep still and was breathing very hard.  I knew she was in trouble but I couldn’t imagine how bad it was going to get.

“OK Daphne.  You win.”

“Now chain that weight to the rest of the chains on my upper back.”

It was a 20 lb circular weight I recognized from her home gym.  I pulled a chain through the hole in the weight and anchored it well to her upper back, managing to squeeze it through a few already occupied rings.  The weight caused her to lean back a little and groan some more.

“Now put the hood over my head.”

She motioned towards a scary looking thick hood of the same material as the straight jacket, which contain a number of straps in the back and a long neck which functioned like a collar.  There were openings in the material for eyes, nose and mouth.

“Hey, this is bondage porno material baby.  Isn’t this hood too degrading for a magic show?”

“Have you ever seen my show?”  She knew I had seen her in her skimpy outfits on stage with her male assistants roughing her up all the time.  “The tickets clearly say ‘over 21 only’ and this is going to kill.  I’ve never seen it in an act.”

She was right but her show keeps sinking to a new low.  She was engaging more and more in bondage theatre and I very much doubted this sexually conservative girl understood the images these acts conjure up in her male audience.  Or maybe she understood very well.

The hood was a tight fit and I pulled her silky red hair out the back and strapped the hood up very tight.  The sway of her body and her moans implied for me to ‘hurry up.’  Although she would never admit to being impatient.  I noticed the collar of the hood sealed up the top of the jacket, the place where the magician’s hands usually come out from to undo the straps.  She obviously could not bring her arms out the collar or the crotch of the suit, so there has to be some gimmick she’s hiding to loosen things up and get free.  But still, with all the chains and straps as tight as they are, she looked completely immobilized from the waist up.

“OK, now you see the spa over there.  If you look closely, I put a plexiglass lid on top of the basin.  Help me lay on top with my feet facing the faucet.”  I did as I was told, though she was heavy with the included weight and the heft of the chain.  At the faucet end of the tub was a large, solidly built, metallic scaffold that has always been there for cosmetic reasons and to hold a shower head and decorative soaps.  She asked for me to move her forward so that her feet were well within the scaffold while her body lay inside and over the tub.

Next, she told me to lock her ankles together and legs together below the knee with a rigid device that locked shut with two padlocks.  This she instructed was to be locked with two rods and a chain to the scaffolding in such a way that there would be no movement up or down and in or out of her legs.

I told her that it looked like everything is done and that she should begin the escape.  But, she almost laughed out loud when I said that, as if I was the most naïve guy on earth.  “You’re going to lift me up, take out the plexiglass, lower me slowly into the water and then I’ll begin my escape.”

“You can’t be serious.”  I didn’t know where to begin.  “At the very least the leather will get ruined and the tub will get rust spots.”

“This isn’t real leather, it’s some synthetic material and the metal is all rust proofed.  The beauty of the design is that I will have to use my ab muscles to sit up and brake the surface if I want to take a breath.  I have to escape before I tire out, but I can go for a long time.  I’ve been doing extra abdominal conditioning and you know I can hold my breath for a long time.”  I had noticed before her perfect abs with complete definition of every muscle.  Though not a surprise, I was becoming sexually aroused at the thought.  I just didn’t want it to cloud my judgment.

“Shouldn’t you try this on land before you do it underwater?” 

“The water is what’s going to make this easier to do.  It’s always easier to manipulate a tight straightjacket under water.  Don’t worry, if I can’t get out by the time you finish your morning shave and shower, then just unlock me.  But don’t unlock me until I nod myself yes.”

“You mean, when you tell me to.”

“No, I wont be able to speak after you put that gag on me.”  Crap, I was becoming more aroused.

“I don’t like this.  You can barely nod with the thick collar of the hood.”  But she demonstrated a small yes and no motion for me.  “Why the gag?”

“For drama.  I can’t come to the surface and then talk to the audience or ask for help.  That would look stupid.  They have to think that once I commit, I can’t back out.”

I picked up the gag and noticed that its thickness would run just below her nose to the tip of her chin.  Then I noticed it had something protruding out of it that looked custom molded to fill the inside of her mouth.  I’m thinking to myself that this girl is just some kinky freak, but aside from her comfort walking around in skimpy clothes, this girl was as sexually vanilla as they get.  She’s a good Christian, raised in a very religious home, enjoys family shows, detests vulgarity and is generally blind to people’s ulterior motives.  But what if she’s a private person because she’s got this kinky alter ego she’s hiding, that she can call ‘magic’ but keeps the crotch straps tight and narrow secretly on purpose.  Or maybe I’m just trying to justify her going through with what amounts to torture to satisfy my own libido.  Isn’t it unprofessional to let her do this yet so romantic to rescue her later like a ‘knight in shining armor?’

“No, I wont let you do this!”  I said firmly and responsibly.

“Listen Brad, we do this now because I have a lot of work to do today and can’t waste any more time.  Now let me focus on my breathing… oh and tonight we’ll do whatever you want to do.”

It’s hard to argue with that, I thought.  I put the bit of the gag in her mouth and then wrapped the strap tightly around it.  There was only one padlock left and I placed it on the strap and checked to make sure it was secure,  I had been careful to note the color of the sticker on the padlock matching a corresponding colored sticker on the key chain.  This was our safety system to quickly put the correct key in the corresponding padlock.  I lifted her up, pulled the plexiglass away and held her just above the water.  She was so heavy to hold, I doubted her confidence in her stamina to last for long. 

She took several long breaths through her nose and appeared to meditate before giving me the gesture with her head that I have become accustomed to as her ready signal.  I gently lowered her under the water and made special attention that her head would touch the bottom softly.  Noting the jets were on, I immediately turned them off so that I could see her carefully.  The first concern was how high her legs are in relation to the rest of her body.  It is a steep incline for her to do sit-ups, almost 45 degrees, and looked very uncomfortable on her lower back.  Also of concern was that this position tilted her head back and was a danger of water running into her nose.  I know from her performances of the Chinese water torture act, that she can resist water entering her nose without nose plugs and completely upside-down.  But, it requires her to force air out a little and thus robs her of some precious air and stamina.

There’s no way I was going to leave her like this or at least for awhile.  After 6 minutes which felt like forever, she did her first sit-up and shakily broke the surface for air and came crashing immediately down.  That looked like a lot of work but she had time to take a full breath.  The scaffolding her legs were locked to held strong.  I was thinking about picking her up again and asking her to nod if she was alright, but I knew that this would disrupt her entire concentration and her special mode of breathing requires absolute focus.

I watched her begin the escape.  She was gently rocking back and forth, with the occasional body spasms she typically uses to jar things like arms and shoulders loose.  This is not for show as is done by other magicians but something I’ve seen her do to escape the tightest ties that I’ve ever given her; from rope that have left bad bruises in their wake!  There is absolutely no panic in her eyes but I see absolutely no progress.  She breaks the surface again for more air, and I am comforted in how smoothly it went.

Do I dare go shave and shower out of her sight?

Ch 2.

Where’s my damn razor refill.  I turn my head to look back at the drenched and writhing synthetic leather package I call a girlfriend still very much helpless in her straightjacket.  I think I could leave her for a few minutes just to get a new box of razors from the storage closet downstairs.  Right?  Right?

I quickly ran across the impossibly long and thickly carpeted hallways, down the main spiral staircase and into the garage where the storage closet was.  I had to disarm the alarm that was still on from the previous night.  Boy that seemed to take forever, I thought to myself.  Finding the small box of my razors was no picnic either among all the industrial sized packages of tampons, toilet paper and toothpaste Daphne has stocked away for what I could only imagine was for World War III preparedness.

Aha!  I had found it of course underneath her personal items, but just as I was closing the closet I heard the thud of the house door slowly shutting.  It was prone to closing as the doorframe was at a slight incline.  I instinctively reached for my pant pocket but was rudely reminded that I was still in only my boxers.  The keys are still in my night stand.  The door into the house doesn’t budge.  I can just go out the garage and find another way into the house.  Right?  Right?

No luck, the garage door opener was in each of the cars and each car was locked.  Where are the car keys?  You guessed it, back in the house.  I begun to worry about my escape artist upstairs.

About this time, Daphne was getting her first surprise.  Unexpected was the level of difficulty the incline and the wet jacket posed for her to break the surface and breathe.  It was also troubling how she had yet to make any progress in the escape and the undignified crushing pain to her pussy and clit.  However those things were trivial to the surprise that the synthetic fabric of her straightjacket was slowly shrinking in the water.  It was gradually squeezing the life out of her, pounding on her head and genitals.  She was farther from escape than when she started and already was moaning through the gag to get Brad’s attention.  Had Brad actually been there, he would have heard a muffled grumble instead of the loud screams she thought she was making.

No, this is too cowardly, Daphne said to herself.  I can figure something out.  Brad is probably in the shower and out of earshot.  She decided that she would sit up real high and try to throw her upper body off the side of the tub.  It would be a painful position to lay in, but at least she wont go back underwater and Brad would recognize something was up.

Daphne counted to 3 and whipped her body as high out of the water and to the right as possible.  She could only get her head slightly over the lip of the tub before her whole body slid back down to the bottom.  Daphne began to panic again and thrashed around wildly like a caged animal.  Not just her abs but her entire upper body was becoming sore and she thought she might not have enough energy to break the surface much longer.

Due to the outfit’s new level of tightness, she could feel her pulse everywhere but was most distracted with the throbbing pressure on her clitoris.  She was disgusted with herself that the slightest movement she made in her suit was translating into direct pressure on her clit and her clit and pussy was responding instinctually by swelling up.  Somehow the pain of the strap cold heartedly tearing into her labia and her suffocation was being superseded by her brain by unexpected pleasure to her clit.  The back and forth mashing of her pleasure center by the cold links of the chain were like shock waves of ecstasy.  No, she must focus or die.

Brad immediately thought that the only way he was going to get out of the garage was by hurling a cinderblock through the window of his precious Lexus to get the garage remote from the car.  Too bad that the car automatically locks once he leaves it in the garage each day, otherwise he could just enter it without the senseless destruction of his dream car.

I counted to 3 and hurled the cinderblock as hard as I could but it bounced off with just a small scratch.  Not even the alarm made a sound.  Maybe it would be easier to hurl the cinderblock at the door to the house, I thought with retarded amazement.  I was looking at the scratch like it was the Grand Canyon and thought I could have done without this.

I then proceeded to hurl cinderblocks at the door to the house, just above the door handle.  After four good wacks, the wooden façade was peeling off to reveal the steal core of the door.  Shit, this is actually steel reinforced, I thought.  Thinking about the beautiful cars in the garage, I continued to pound at the steel door with some block on block action.  I know that Daphne demands top security for her prized compound, but I was shocked at the security of this one door.

OK, back to breaking into these cars, I thought.  

Daphne was drifting into a sexual frenzy.  Her struggles to release her arms had as much to do with getting access to her crotch and bringing herself to orgasm as it had once been about escaping.  She was thrusting her crotch into the air to get more stimulation but it was not enough to cum.  It was at that point she realized she desperately needed air and that she was able to interrupt the vicious cycle of arousal.

Daphne once again flexed her abdominal muscles and barely got her nose above the water for a quick breath.  The previous attempt had really taken a lot out of her.  Daphne then realized that the only thing truly keeping her prisoner was her feet that were elaborately fettered to the solid steel scaffold.  If she could free her legs, then she could simply stand-up out of the water.

The plan originally had been that she would release her arms from the straightjacket and then extend herself to her feet and pick the leg locks by hand, but there was no way that her hands could be used anymore.  Her final plan was to brute force her feet through the metal leg binders.  She purposefully pushed waves towards her feet with the upper body to get the bindings wet and hopefully lubricate her feet to slide out.  This was reminding her clit of how close to orgasm she was.

I’ve got to cum, she thought.  No, I’ve got to escape.  I can’t cum anyways without penetration and for that, I would need to be unlocked.  Daphne also knew that secretly her libido was as strong as any man and that she came as hard as any of her boyfriends ever did.  She wasn’t polyorgasmic and like her boyfriends in the past, one explosive cum would render her a temporary vegetable and very sensitive.  This was also out of the question.

Again her body gave way to panic and she began to buck wildly at the restraints.  The walls felt like they were coming in on her and she was wishing the day never happened that she had heard of magic and escape.  Underwater, she was nodding her head and moaning two octaves above her usual tomboy tone like a hysterical child.  She was losing air badly and maybe a little urine.  Where was he? she thought.  Had Brad actually been there, he would have seen his lover gently moving beneath the waves as though everything was going as planned.  There was no outward appearance of panic, and this thought was creeping in Daphne’s head.  Brad probably was not alarmed.

I’m very alarmed, Brad thought to himself.  It’s been about thirty minutes since he had gotten locked in the garage and about forty-five minutes since he submerged his girlfriend.  Maybe she was smiling and stretching in the kitchen and enjoying her breakfast after another amazing escape, he thought.  She might even be laughing about her boyfriend’s dumb luck in the garage and contemplating when to let him in.  He knew the look on her face after she completes a daring escape; it looks like she just had the best sex of her life and she would beam like the first strut of a newly crowned beauty queen.

Or maybe she was still methodically picking the padlocks with her concealed lock pick set,  systematically attacking the horrible suit in the amazing way he had seen her make organization from chaos.  More likely, she was embarrassed by her inability to escape and too embarrassed to call for help, as had occasionally been the case, until her body begins to spasm and betray itself in its confinement.  She had seen her before say “this is taking too long and I have to go” instead of “help, I can’t escape” and he remembers how casually she likes to brush off her failures.

Help, I can’t escape!, thought Daphne as her body was betraying itself and her muscles racked with uncontrollable spasms.  It was taking muscle strength to not only inhale but to keep from exhaling.  The only thing keeping her sane was that she was slowly moving her right foot from its restraints (though by scraping the foot painfully against the metal).  She was thankful she didn’t use the thumb cuffs on her big toes as she had often done in the past and would have made this impossible.  The withdrawal of her foot was causing painful tension in her right knee.

The escape artist was reminded of a recurring nightmare that had caused her to break out into sweats and sometimes disturb Brad from his slumber from her noise.  Daphne would dream of being stuck under the hot stage lights and an escape going terribly wrong.  The audience would be laughing and applauding at what they presumed to be fake struggles and showmanship.  Her assistants would be, as always, oblivious and she would spend the final minutes of her life on earth in pure torture and in the afterlife watching her career go down in ridicule.  Of course she would tell Brad that it was just heartburn before going back to sleep.  Now it was a nightmare come true but one which felt more disturbing than she could have imagined.  If she manages to get rescued, chances are she will be mentally broken.

It’s broken, Brad realized as the window of his Lexus had finally smashed through.  Boy, this was just like a recurring nightmare he had about his car getting keyed but much worse.  Maybe it’s not that bad.  I can tell the insurance company someone tried to steal it.  Right? Right?

Ch. 3

A whole hour had passed since the escape began and Brad had finally opened the garage door from within his smashed car.  Emerging from the dark garage and into the painful light of day while still in his underwear, Brad optimistically went to the front door and rang the bell.  Maybe she’s already free and can answer the door.  After a few minutes of waiting, Brad went into ‘emergency mode’ and assumed the worst about what was going on in the indoor spa.

Brad retrieved a cinder block and went around to the back of the mansion to where the largest and most vulnerable windows lay.  One baseball like throw was enough to take out the window but Brad begins to realize that his path lay ahead full of broken glass and Brad was currently without shoes.  Daphne was the daredevil and might put herself through cutting up her feet for an escape, but Brad sure as hell did not possess the strength of mind of his girlfriend for such punishment.  No, there must be a better way.

Daphne’s right foot tears loose of it’s steel enclosure and she can now use it to brace against the lip of the tub and push harder to free the left foot.  Her foot feels like it has been given a monumental Indian Burn.  It was time again for her to breathe even though she last broke the surface only three minutes ago and Daphne sat up with all her might.  In her desperation, she breathed too soon and gulped pure water.  If she fell back down now she would die. 

No, instead with all her willpower she stayed up long enough to blow water from her nose and take in much needed air.  She no longer had strength to control her decent and came crashing hard to the spa floor, cracking the ceramic with the weight.  The heavy gag in her mouth prevented her from coughing out what water she inhaled and caused her upper airways to spasm.  She was choking.  Worse now, the extended battle for air during the last sit-up has caused her abdominal muscles to completely give-out.  She was not going to the surface any time soon.

Brad was getting rewarded for his laziness.  Moving to the front lawn there were at least three days worth of newspapers he had not had the energy to retrieve before.  He became aware that the neighbors who had heard the smash were now watching a semi naked man tying old newspapers to his feet.  “Go back inside,” I shouted.  “We just had a stray baseball hit a window, that’s all.”  I was tempted to instead shout, “someone get an ambulance.”  For all I knew, she was just finishing up her escape act and she would be pissed by the broken window, smashed car and the horrible publicity of the cops investigating.  But, I can’t waste much more time.

Daphne was losing consciousness and realized it was over.  In her hypoxic hallucinations however, she could see the blurry image of a slow stream of bubbles jetting to the surface.  Had she cracked the tub and air was coming from beneath her?  No, she began to make out that it was coming from a spa jet.  Brad must not have turned the jets completely off as it was becoming more and more obvious that some gas was escaping. 

Daphne had no idea what spa gas was and where it came from, but she knew she had no choice but to slide over to the jet, jam her nose into the jet outlet and hope she makes enough of a seal to breathe it in.  Astonishingly, she did just that but breathed in a little bit of water with the gas.  Never the less, she tuned out the throat spasms along with all the other spasms in her body and began to tug at the left leg with earnest as the spa gas had temporarily quenched her thirst for air.

Several sharp tugs with the left leg and a few breaths from the spa jet and she had miraculously freed her other leg.  Daphne knew that without her off the chart level of adrenaline and hysterical ferocity, no human on earth could have freed their legs from such bindings and resisted the pain of the scraping and leg cramps.  She pulled her legs from the ledge and stood up shakily, nearly falling down.  Her lower back and abs were still weak and in pain but nothing compared to her still swollen sex.  She slid down the irons from below her knees and she knew that with her legs freed, nothing was going to stop her now.

Nobody was as nimble and controlled with their legs as Daphne.  She walked unsteadily from the tub that had imprisoned her for the past hour and a half and towards the marbled counter of the bathroom.  The bathroom carpet was now soaking wet and the escape artist was blowing mucus from her nose.  This was not as glamorous a job as maybe her fans would have expected.  She was able to lift her powerful right leg above her waist and swipe the key ring off the counter with it.  It didn’t even cross her mind where Brad was, as she had blocked out his very existence to spur herself to escape.

Daphne uses her toes as well as some people use their fingers as she used it to quickly identify the keys to the locks on her crotch.  This was her most pressing region of her body to free.  Amazingly, through Pilates and yoga training, Daphne was capable of bringing her foot up to her chest and use it to insert and twist keys into the locks of her crotch chain.  She could hold the body of the keys tightly between individual toes and could even maneuver lock picks with the dexterity of writing with a pencil had she been able to access her picks still locked within the jacket.

Her feet were a little tremulous from the morning of stress and she could see the harsh scrapes to her ankles and heal that were actively but slowly oozing blood.  Had she ever been in such a position, she felt like she could bite off her own foot to free herself like a trapped wolf.  If need be she could be more animal than man.  After she gratefully released the crotch chain, she was able to unbuckle the crotch strap that her boyfriend had so ruthlessly applied.  This buckle was not done in front but rather between her butt cheeks which further demonstrated her world renowned flexibility and focus to undo it.

Her crotch was now free and the sudden release of pressure and recirculation of blood seemed to immediately amplify the pain.  Daphne began to massage her labia and clit with the bottom of her feet to relieve the pain, but her body responded with sexual urgency.  She was unconsciously thrusting her hips and mashing her crotch against the leg of the nearby chair to heighten the experience and even forgetting about her restraints she unconsciously and repetitively tried to bring her arms down to meet her sex.

The tight hug of the jacket was being replaced in her mind by the embrace of a solidly built man as he has wrestled her to the floor of her bathroom and made her willpower come crashing down into her primal instincts.  Her nimble legs were now pulling her panties down and then kicking them all the way off, making her feel delightfully vulnerable.  She then lay in a butterfly position but with her back on the ground and was expertly penetrating her pussy with one foot and fingering her clit with the other.  This is a move that few people could imagine possible, but something Daphne secretly knew she could do.  As she finally approached the brink of a real orgasm, there was not even a thought of the chains that still held her or the fatigue of the almost deadly torture she experienced that morning.

“Daphne!  Daphne I’m coming baby!  Don’t worry.”  Brad was shouting in the distance.  She was almost there to complete bliss as she was moaning into her gag.  She could feel that this might be the best cum of her life.  Brad had clip clopped his way in, wearing newspaper shoes, sweat on his forehead and looking at first greatly relieved to see his girl laying outside the confines of the spa, on the floor and still breathing.  But as he began to hold her, he noticed she was not paying attention to him and impatiently shrugged Brad off her with the fling of her shoulders.  It was then when he looked down and saw her nudity and what she was doing.

Ch. 4

“Hey baby.  Baby?  Are you OK?  Do you know what you put me through?”  There was no response.  “Hey!”  Brad said angrily as he pulled her legs apart and demanded attention.  This got her attention alright as she flashed him angrily with her eyes, ripped her legs free of his clutches and went back to her masturbation.

That was very disrespectful for Brad.  He had spent an hour and a half in a total panic, damaging his precious car, publicly humiliating himself and for all he knew, Daphne was running him through a rat maze so she could secretly fulfill her private fetish fantasies without him around.  She’s a real bitch, he thought.  A hot and kinky bitch though.

“Baby, I’m here.  I want to be a part of your world.”  Brad said.  “I want to be a part of your games, but you need to be honest with me.”  Daphne was still in a fog and barely aware that he was in the room as she was only seconds away from cuming and was now tensing up and bearing down heavily with all her might on her sex.

That was the last straw as Brad yanked her back using her chains, briskly separated her legs and replaced the crotch strap.  Like a machine, Daphne went right back to the buckle with her feet and was nodding furiously ‘no.’  It no longer mattered to Brad as he lifted the still soaked girl off the floor, carried her and slammed her on their bed.  Brad left her alone on the bed for a brief period to retrieve the extra handcuffs, padlocks and chain he knew Daphne kept in a closet nearby.  All the restraints were regulation as she had always demanded.  During this short time, Daphne already was having her way with the buckle.

Brad charged the bed, separated her legs again and cuffed each leg to an iron bedpost, leaving her on her back with legs painfully spread eagle.  Brad was oblivious to the injuries she had to her ankles and legs.  He quickly cleared all the pillows from the bed and used chains to lash her upper torso in place to the top bedposts, effectively immobilizing her.  He even used the remaining short chain, wrapped it through unused rings on her hood and pulled it to the center of the headboard and padlocked it with no slack.  She basically could not move a muscle, even her head, except he noticed her still wild pelvis bobbing up and down under impossible tension.

Brad had seen her escape from worse things, and was not fooled by her helpless appearance.  Her face did look like she was holding back tears but it was mixed with glimmers of her trademark defiance that scared him so. 

“Baby, I didn’t want to be a part of endangering your life in the tub.  You put me through such stress worrying about you but this whole time you were actually pleasuring yourself.  I knew you had some kinky fetish that was keeping you from opening up to me but now I want to be a part of it.  You said that if I helped you this morning, that tonight we could do what I want.  Well, I don’t want to wait until tonight to say I want to roleplay with you.  I know this magic thing gets you off, well it gets me off too.  Let’s share in this together.  That’s my wish.”

During this speech, Daphne was trying to nod and say ‘no’ through her gag but communication was impossible.  She was still thinking of the orgasm she remained close to having and all the possibilities for freedom.  It hadn’t yet sunk in what he had said, but had she not been so aroused, she would have thought of him as a misogynist pervert who was violating the dignity of her profession.  The only good news was the jacket had become more manageable as the drying process was giving the material greater flexibility.

Brad found a pack of gum from a bathroom drawer and began to chew several pieces simultaneously.  He spat the wad into his hand and began to shove pieces into keyholes of each padlock very meticulously.  Much of her escape technique he knew involved picking locks and the gum would now make that almost impossible.  Brad also remembered seeing the box for the hood she was wearing in the closet and confirmed his suspicions by finding the unused eye covers in it.  He proceeded to take away Daphne’s sight by strapping the blinders on nice and tight.

He stepped back from this escape expert’s bound form on the bed, content with his additions that should make her now completely helpless.  There was still this deep suspicion that she would escape and boast arrogantly in his face about her awesome skills as she had often done in the past when he challenged her with a surprise.         

   

She’s bucking like a horse to cum, he noted.  He had never seen his love so aroused.  Brad decided to play what he thought was her game by freeing her crotch and sucking her clit and fingering her pussy until she was at the brink of cuming.  From their occasional sexual activities, Brad remembered that Daphne would stop thrusting and immediately tense up just before cuming and used this as his signal to stop short.  He could feel the walls of her pussy trying to grip him but he would pull back always just in time.

There was no longer any intelligible thought in Daphne’s head other than ‘cum’ and ‘cum now.’  Brad always a skeptic of Daphne’s theatrical Damsel in Distress act she was so good at milking in her shows, did not truly believe he now controlled one of the mentally toughest women on earth.  To him, anything he was getting away with doing to her, was the result of her letting him and deferring her escape.  He was going to take full advantage of what he was going to get.

Brad found feathers, a silk handkerchief, candles and clothespins.  Every time he walked away from the bed to retrieve something, he was imagining he would find her miraculously free of the bondage and cocksure.  However, her mindset would not allow her to consider her escape yet.  Brad was now teasing her slit with silk and feathers and every time she would move to the brink, he would add another clothespin to her labia and drip some hot wax on her pussy, which he tested to make sure would not scar her.  In his secret exploration of bondage websites, he had become exposed to this idea of substituting pain for pleasure and was convinced by now that this was Daphne’s game as she would try escaping from a noose (something which had always reminded Brad of those people into autoerotic asphyxiation), laying on glass or pins and needles (something which resembled the games of a masochist) or when Daphne engaged in fire eating and seemed to relish in the burn.

He would be surprised to know that she had never given these things a sexual connotation, though she knew it titillated her audience.  The pain she was getting now was all new to her and was at first torture and caused her to panic but was gradually becoming a tool to get her closer to cuming.  If she could just use the pain to fuel her libido and show no outward signs she was on the brink (no tensing up and no clenching with her vagina), she could trick him into letting her cum.  But every time her body would betray her and he would figure her out.  A part of her was almost gleeful that she was getting a challenge worthy of her as she had always sought to train and control her body and natural instincts and this was one realm she never imagined training; she was failing miserably.

 

This is so awesome, he thought to himself.  She was still going like a hungry tiger and showed no sign of letting up, but he was actually tired.  They had been playing this teasing game for a full hour and he had expected her to collapse by now.  Every time he withdrew stimulation, she would thrust her pussy high in the air in search of it and loudly grind the ankle cuffs against the bed frame with the tension.  Her horniness and determination, combined with her physical prowess might make this go on for many more hours but he needed to get on with his day and her pussy, clit and inner thighs had no more room for clothespins and wax.  Still, he had this thought like he was landing on the moon: nobody had ever seen anything like this or thought this was possible.  His scientific instincts were to keep exploring and find out at what point she would break or if she would break him first.  This was an epic like Moby Dick or Old Man and the Pussy.

Ch. 5

“I need something that a master escape artist couldn’t get out of.”  Brad said to the stunning adult store clerk.

“Sounds like you have a regular ‘Amazing Daphne’ at home.”  She joked.  Brad responded with nervous laughter, not wanting to give away his shocking secret.  He had the ‘Amazing Daphne’ under lock and key while he toyed with the famous vagina for hours that morning (and in a way still toying with it).  He was feeling very guilty for leaving her still bound in chains on their bed. 

Earlier, while removing the clothespins and wax from her body he watched her writhe as he massaged back the circulation to her genitals.  Of note, Daphne’s squeals were almost inaudible beneath the gag.  He was being reminded of how much of her suffering was not conveyable due to her severe gag and hood.  Maybe she was already broken under that mass of leather, he thought.  Looking at the mess he made of her pussy lips, clit and inner thighs, he was afraid of taking off the gag and finding out what she had to say.  But, it was the responsible thing to do with the girl he loves so very much.

“Are you OK Daphne?”  Brad said as he unlocked her gag and removed the bit, noting the deep imprint the strap made on her face. 

“Don’t stop.”  She pleaded breathlessly, still short of her orgasm after two hours of teasing.  Her voice was hoarse from the aspiration of fluids when she was drowning and the hours of screaming into the gag.

“What was that?”

“Don’t stop!” she said more angrily.   

“Don’t stop?”  Brad said.  “But I’m torturing you.  I don’t want to hurt…”

“No.  Cum, I need to cum.”  She blurted out while realizing that she had never uttered such a sentence before.

She must be OK if she was still thinking about sex, he thought.  “Did you like the game?”  Brad said and he fingered her clit.  “Do you think you can still escape?”  He said as the sadist in him was truly coming out for the first time.

Daphne could feel a power change in their relationship that was unacceptable.  She probably could kick his ass if she were not bound.  However with all her senses robbed of her except sound and with virtually all movement constricted, she considered using diplomacy.

“Just fuck me with your dick and I wont kill you when I get out of this.”

Brad’s exploring hands had found bruised and mildly burned areas of her labia which he kneaded between his fingers and which provoked a delicious reaction by his girl.  It was an inaudible scream that was forced out like a furious puff of air as he could see Daphne would not allow her significant other to hear her holler at his ministrations.  She was trapped worse by the bondage of her mind and the pride of not letting him win.  He then pulled back her hood and blinders to expose the top of her soaked head and her piercing blue eyes.  Brad pressed his forehead against hers and looked at her so close that all he could see were those eyes, out of focus by their proximity, scanning for any signs of weakness.

The sweat of their foreheads mixed together and dripped on their faces and simultaneously Brad and Daphne let out a chuckle about the absurdity of it all.  They both stank and they both had their busy day wasting away as the impossible drama continued. 

“I’ll tell you what Daphne.  You said you want some challenges to escape from and worst case scenarios to practice, well what if you are incapacitated by your horniness?” Brad said in an obnoxious way.  “I’m seeing a very perverted side of you and if your body betrayed you on stage, it could mean the end of your life.”

What nonsense, Daphne thought.  She had never in her life had one particle of distraction enter her mind during a heated performance, especially not of a sexual nature.  Now this bum of a boyfriend meant to make her out as a whore with no control of her body.  But they both knew that her body was still worked-up in a sexual frenzy that had left her at Brad’s mercy.  She could not argue that Brad did not reveal a vulnerability between her legs that reminded this tomboy that she was very much a woman.

“I’ll give you a chance to escape, unbothered by my presence.  But, you can’t expect me to let you cum unless you free yourself.  That is your motivation as well as your distraction.  Also, if you don’t escape, then we’ll try other scenarios of MY design that are meant to toughen you up and make you less of a slut.”

‘Son of a bitch,’ thought Daphne.  For the first time, she showed a hint of panic in front of her boyfriend as she thrust her pussy at him and asked with unexpected politeness to cum before the challenge.  “Just relax baby and focus on blocking out your perversion for the sake of the show.”

Brad briskly reapplied her hood, binders and gag over her quickly muffled protests.  Brad looked at her helpless squirming body and felt confident, but when he caught site of her thrashing battle hardened bare muscular legs still shackled to the bedposts, he was reminded of the warrior within this confinement that will try to escape by ANY means.  ‘Man I’m lucky,’ he thought to himself.  He grabbed a video camera and tripod and left it running while pointed at the bed.  It would be a crime to miss the action.

As a freshly shaven and showered Brad was getting ready to leave the house, he had a wicked idea.  He did not bother to search the house for a vibrator, because this Saint would never have purchased one.  But passing Daphne’s giant aquarium, its buzzing sound reminded him of the heavy vibrations of the circulating pump.  Brad reached in and unplugged the sucker.  He cleaned it off and carefully applied the device, which was about the size of two of his fists, over Daphne’s still swollen vagina.  The smell of her sex blended perfectly with its aquatic aroma and once plugged in, its buzzing matched harmoniously with the guttural moans from her constricted throat.  Brad found Daphne’s black latex tape and used it to secure the pump to her pussy.  Brad was still sure she would free herself, so he used the remaining tape to mummify her head with it, leaving just her nostrils free.  Then he wrapped extra pieces of it at key parts of her body to help remove any slack in the suit.

Daphne had never used a vibrator before and had never felt her pussy as sensitive as it was to the pump’s pulsations.  It was like her sex was being pricked by a thousand electric needles or someone was blowing a raspberry to her groin.  To Brad’s childlike amazement, she was so disinhibited that she was releasing a flood of urine onto the bed along with the gushing of her pussy juices.  This stimulation would not let her come but would leave her continuously on the brink of orgasm until she or someone could remove the device.

‘Now we have a challenge!’  Brad thought.

Ch. 6

“The bondage gear you’ve shown me so far looks kind of flimsy.  No offense.”  Brad said to the hot adult store clerk.  She was mystified as she had shown him very expensive bondage contraptions.

“These armbinders here have metal reinforcing the latex and padlocked bolts above and below every joint for total immobility.  Everything is double anchored to the clit and tits of your captive to guarantee no struggle and this posture collar can be adjusted to pull her head back 30 degrees.  This is our most expensive item; you can’t possibly doubt the intimidation and quality of this suit.  It’s built like a damn SUV!!”  The hot girl was taking this negotiation a little too seriously.

“Well…hmm, it’s just that, well…”  Brad was methodically looking it up and down.  “She could probably slide her wrists through that strap, arm down that metal sheathe, then use a concealed blade to saw around that load bearing buckle after dislocating her shoulder, and once she got her fingers to those bolts, it would be over.  She wouldn’t even need to pick the locks.  It squeezes her, but it would be better if her spine was completely immobilized and if the tit and clit clamps had a tighter bite and maybe even some teeth and…”

“Is this some kind of put on?  Is this some sick fucking joke?”  Brad had offended the sensibilities of the fetishist saleswoman like he had told her he was a member of Al-Qaeda.  Apparently the very ordinary Brad was already more sexually hardcore than this heavily tattooed, completely pierced clerk.  She briskly walked out of earshot to an older, distinguished looking gentleman at a desk behind the counter.  She looked hot and bothered and was yelling something he couldn’t quite make out.  She pointed his way and the grey haired man looked up and caught his eye.

I should go, Brad thought.  They’re acting like I’m a serial killer or something and might call the cops.  He looked at his watch and was thinking he needed to get home if/when Daphne freed herself.

Daphne was still completely entombed in bondage and felt her mind drifting to an unconscious world where strange thoughts and random images were floating by her in a dream.  She reflected on how she tried to live a life of secrecy and trusted no one.  Even as a child, she was always disappointed with those she let into her private circle.  It was like yesterday she saw her devoutly religious father cheating on her mother but was too afraid to tell anyone.  She remembered how she caught her older brothers in her room and reading her diary and her elementary school best friend picking on her when the ‘cool’ kids came around.

Worse though was her distrust of people after becoming a worldwide celebrity.  Men were always after her money and pseudo-celebrities were trying to get with her to improve their careers.  Hired help were getting paid off to rummage through her house to photograph prototype magic devices or blueprints for future acts.  Maybe worst of all was how sexually private she is but she felt pressured to do Playboy, make out in public, or let the few boyfriends she had bring cameras into the bed room.  She knew very well that those images would get out and unlike most celebrities, she did not want the world to see.

She was having horrible flashbacks of her last boyfriend, the one it took her two years to recover from before she let Brad into her life.  She thought he was the greatest guy alive and he was charismatic and charming and romantic.  He had swept her off her feet after a mutual friend had introduced them to each other.  And two months of their fantasy relationship had passed when she finally accepted his offer to follow him into the bedroom of his post-modern Manhattan condo.  She was so horny from denying herself for so long.

They started soft and slowly with him peeling off her clothes and then him exposing his big, strong hairy chest to her.  He laid her down on his silk sheets and she laughed as he removed her final article, her panties, with his teeth.  She couldn’t stand it anymore and they madly groped each other and threw the delicate dance of romance aside for a cardio workout style fuck.  They couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

To her surprise, he separated himself for a brief moment and pulled out a pair of handcuffs from a drawer arms length away.  But these were no ordinary handcuffs; they were Saf-Lok MK 4s which Daphne, an expert on restraints, knew to be very expensive and very high quality.  She looked a little apprehensive, but without missing a beat her boyfriend shifted her mind back to the foreplay as he was squeezing her breast while pushing her back against the unusually tall, steel headboard.

“Baby you’ll like this,” he said as he pulled her wrists high above her head with one hand, using the other to finger her clit while using his tongue to lick her tits.  She was up for anything at that point.  He then, like a well rehearsed Don Juan, cuffed her left wrist, fed the other bracelet through the decorative metal piece atop the headboard and locked her other wrist to it as tightly as possible, having to pull her whole body up to do it.  Her arms were stretched so high above her that it was already becoming painful.  It must have been a beautiful site to see her ribs jutting through her milky white skin and her perfect breast pointing to the ceiling.

She found herself squatting on her toes to relieve some tension on her shoulders.  He lathered her humming body, including the inside of her pussy, with something like cocoa butter and she was slippery and shiny and felt sexy all over.  She knew he was getting a breathtaking view of every contour of every muscle and he kept complimenting her to the point that she was in full blush.  She should have known something was wrong when he reached over to the same drawer, pulled out a key and proceeded to double lock the distinctly solid and heavy handcuffs.  But, a doubt had not even crept into her mind.

After more groping and sweet words he pulled out very professional ankle cuffs with a long chain attached.  He cuffed one leg and then threaded it through consecutive bars at the base of the headboard and then cuffed the other end to the other foot.  She was still squatting on the bed supported by the tips of her toes, while her bent legs were splayed wide open, but now her butt was pressing firmly against the headboard.  Her quads and thighs were now quivering as they fought to keep her body weight off her wrists and the body grease was letting her man make out every detail of every muscle’s rhythmic dance.  With her legs bound, she could no longer reposition to rest one leg at a time.  Her Don Juan then proceeded to double lock the ankle cuffs.  “You are so cruel!” she said with a smile.

“You’re beautiful, you’re precious,” he was saying as he carefully outlined every angle of her swollen pussy with his fingers.  Stranger so, he proceeded to take out a brush to perfectly style practically every strand of her hair and used a towel to pat down some excess moisture from her face.  Next he took out a ball gag and danced the ball over her mouth, which she instinctively licked.  She had rarely seen them, but was so turned on and taken by his magic that she let him padlock it in place without any movement of protest.  He slowly kissed her cheek and then the other side of the gag. 

Don Juan pulled something else from the drawer, something that looked like two clips linked by a chain.  “This is going to be intense but you’ll love it.  Trust me.”  He went to her clit without any shyness and just clipped the alligator clip to the front of her nub.  She moaned into the gag and felt lightheaded, but before she could react he pushed her down into maximum squat, putting severe tension on her arms and knees.  He looped the chain of the clit clip under a horizontal bar at the base of the headboard and then back up to her clit to clamp the posterior of her clit while the chain was in full tension.

The pain was horrendous and she was forced to stay at a maximum squat to keep her clit from being pulled hard by the chain.  Her hamstrings and quads were now shaking violently and Daphne was trying to will her muscles to relax because the shaking was being transmitted to her clit.  Every time her body reacted to his repeated fondling, she would painfully stretch out her double clamped clit and she could tell he was trying to provoke such a reaction so he could see her squirm.  Her taught arms were bothering her but whenever she tried to sit up and relax, she would be reminded of the clit bondage. 

This basic design Daphne knew well was called a ‘double bind.’  One movement to relieve pain would cause pain somewhere else resulting in the person oscillating in torture.  In an effort to expand her escape act, she always tried to add double bind escapes particularly for finales, but never had she seen one so wicked and unexpected.  She was a little impressed with its ingeniousness but desperately wondered how long this foreplay was going to last.  As the seconds ticked by, her legs were shaking with greater violence.  Her boyfriend topped it all off with nipple clamps which were almost as painful as her clit’s.

“You are perfect baby.  I wish you could see yourself right now…well maybe you will.”  He let out a mysterious chuckle.  She closed her eyes and tried to focus on his suave, soothing accented voice.  “Only someone like you can stay like this for so long and please me so.”  He then pulled out a small screwdriver (the kind you see in eyeglass repair kits) and tightened the tension on the adjustable clit clamps.  At the time it seemed just cruel and weird but in retrospect she thought maybe Don Juan knew her well to think she might successfully pull out the clit clamps by lifting up her body, tolerate the pain using her renowned willpower and give herself enough mobility to escape.  Now with the new tightness, the only way to yank out her sex was to leave pieces of her clit behind.  That was beyond her mental capabilities, though if she didn’t focus on controlling the spasms, this might accidentally become a reality.

The boyfriend finger fucked her bouncing body a bit and licked her stretched out clit.  It looked three times its normal length and started to discolor.  Her mind was totally swimming in the moment and she was starting to feel less concerned about her well being and more into pleasing her maestro.  “You are sooo good!”  He shouted.  “The sexiest woman in the world and my lover.  You must always remember that I love you and I would never do anything to hurt you.”  That sounded a bit strange, she thought, but she believed him.  Daphne’s breathing was becoming ragged. 

Then he did something really shocking, he got off the bed and walked away. 

She moaned into her gag, trying to alert him.  He went to the other side of the large master bedroom and pulled out what looked like photography lights from behind the window curtains.  He pulled a tripod and camera case out from under her bed.  He began to set things up methodically and swiftly.  ‘What the hell is going on’ she wondered.

Her maestro was measuring light levels, setting up diffusers, patting sweat from her head and styling her body to the last detail.  He spent less attention to her escalating hell and more on what looked to be a professional photo shoot.  She was starting to sense that her man was avoiding eye contact and looked like he felt very guilty.  It was becoming obvious to her that this man was anticipating a gigantic payday with these pictures and now she was swearing at him through the gag.

Don Juan had an educated guess as to a few of the words.  “Come on Daphne, you know I love you more than any woman I’ve ever been with.  Can’t you just be happy for me and feel good about the great boost to your career these pictures will make when they get out there.  And you look so unbelievably sexy right now.  I promise I will split the money with you.  It’s in the millions baby, the millions!”

The hot lights were making the suffering much worse.  She knew the inherent value of the pics as they would show a confident female superstar as a helpless painslut.  She would never forgive him if he found a way to succeed in this because it would shatter the larger than life image that she spent her career cultivating.  But, already she could never forgive him for this breach of sacred trust.

“Shit!”  She heard him say.  “The damn strobe burnt out.  Stay right there woman and I’ll be right back.”  He flashed her a little smile as he was starting to feel more comfortable in his personal conquest.  She moaned, hoping her now ex-boyfriend would undo her clamps before he left.  He didn’t even look back.

For Daphne, she knew this was her only window of opportunity to consider escape as she knew her legs would soon completely give out in fatigue and Don Juan was out of visual range.  Using the minimal slack she had, she explored the space with her feet, inching her legs ever so slightly behind her.  This of course resulted in greater strains.

Daphne was feeling the cold, brass vertical bars of the headboard beneath the tips of her feet and noticing each bar was a separate piece of the structure by their slight freedom of movement.  She was excited to find that behind each bar was an exposed nut where they were secured.  Although they were likely machine tightened, it didn’t stop Daphne from squeezing the metal nut between her strong toes and using her whole body to torque it loose.  However, she was having to tolerate far greater clit pain in order to achieve this.

Once she felt the first nut come free and heard it plop on the floor behind the bed, she tested the bar and could sense it was still attached by a bolt so high on the headboard, that she would never be able to reach it.  Fortunately, the bottom bolt allowed enough freedom for the bar to lift up which left a space beneath it for the chain to just pass.  She did this for about three bars, with each bar conquered giving Daphne more slack for her legs until her right leg was free enough for her foot to lift up and touch her pussy.

It was at that time she heard her EX-boyfriend walking down the corridor to his bedroom.  She quickly separated her legs and held taught to give the impression the leg chain was still rapped around the bars.  He popped his head in and saw she was still helpless.  “Good girl.”  He said patronizingly like she was his slave pet. 

Daphne was lucky that he was a ‘breast man’ as he walked over to them without looking down at her legs.  He removed the tit clamps and massaged her painful tits.  He groped her perfect breasts and rubbed his face and coarse five-o’clock shadow into them.  “I love you, I love you, I love you!”  He sang musically.  It almost made her feel brief submission for him.  But this was Daphne; she was no man’s gimp.  She pulled away and glared angrily.  She had no problem submitting to a man, but would never have her dignity taken from her as this dick was attempting to do.

“OK bitch, you want to pretend you don’t have feelings for me?  You are too good to play games with me like you whore yourself out to millions of people on stage and TV?  You make me wait months before I can see you naked.  You’re going to whore yourself to me and this camera tonight bitch!”  That was no way to talk to or treat a lady, she thought.  He must have her confused with some imaginary Amazing Daphne he concocted in his mind who was a total slut, a pain slut and submissive.  He had not earned any of the things he was trying to take from her.  Selling explicit photos of her against her will for one thing was ‘hampering’ the relationship.  He was going to get his.

Don Juan went to his desk and took four small rubber bands from a drawer.  He stretched them to their limits to get the first two over each breast to the very back, at the fragile tissue which connected her boobs to her chest.  He put the next two rubber bands half way forward on each breast.  Her breasts were now being painfully squeezed and they were quickly turning red.  He suddenly reapplied the clamps and tightened them with the small screw driver.  The pain was intense to her engorging breasts but she looked straight at his face as if to say ‘I’m going to get you.’

“Daphne, you seem to be taking this so well that I’ll just take my time looking for my missing bulb replacement.”  It took all her effort to keep her legs spread and taught instead of trying to kick him or squeeze him.  Of course she didn’t want to let him know she was making progress in her escape.

As soon as he left again, Daphne allowed herself to moan and show the tortured emotions she hid from her captor.  She briefly looked down at her heaving, suffering chest which no longer appeared to be part of her body.  She then moved her legs, with their now greater slack, to her pussy stupidly trying to pull herself free of the clit clamps.  That was a mistake as she was racked with terrible aches that seemed to cut at her from deep inside.  She realized that if the clamps could not be undone without a little screwdriver or permanently injuring her pussy, then the bar the chain was connected to would have to go.

She began undoing as many bolts that held the horizontal bar at the base of the headboard, with her feet.  She needed to stretch her legs extremely wide to reach the farthest of the bolts.  She was practically doing the splits, to the dismay of her bruised wrists.  All Daphne could think of was his look of surprise when he finds her free and inflicting a permanent injury to her ex-lover.

Once the base bar her clit chain was attached to was completely liberated of screws and bolts, she found she could slide the whole thing out as it wasn’t deeply secured to the structure.  So like Don Juan to have sturdy and impressive looking furniture on the surface that were flimsy and deeply flawed upon closer inspection.  Daphne carefully allowed the horizontal bar to drop without making much noise and was now able to elevate herself as the clit chain was no longer anchored but had to remain somewhat crouched as her secured hands above essentially pinned her whole body down.  Her legs were also free of the headboard and now she stretched them towards the nightstand she saw him put the keys into.  ‘Damn, it was too far out of reach.’

Daphne realized she would have to free herself of the maximally secure Saf-Lok MK 4 handcuffs to escape and would have to pick them only by feel with her hands high above her head.  This would be as difficult as anything she had ever done.  However, what most people don’t know about Daphne is that she not only keeps her lock pick set on her at all times, they are literally ‘at hand.’

Beneath each of Daphne’s elegantly polished nails lies a different tool, long ago surgically embedded after her true nails were purposefully removed.  These fake nails retract in a somewhat gruesome appearing yet painless manner to reveal a tool.  The synthetic nails though are still short enough, tough enough and specially suited for picking out knots in rope.  Her whole body is just one ingeniously designed, perfect masterpiece for escape artistry.  Daphne had long ago decided she would be the best at all costs.

Daphne felt for a keyhole on the cuffs.  Not surprisingly, her thumb was the only finger that could reach it.  She pressed her thumbnail against the steel to retract it and expose the tool beneath: a dual pronged tool best suited for turning the primary locking mechanism of most any standard lock.  This was no typical lock in that the cylinders were deep inside and required exquisite manipulation to release.

The master escape artist was in deep focus as she could feel the tumblers of the lock lining up using small corrections.  She must be a little off because when she twisted her thumb to unlock, she was met with resistance.  Daphne was sweating as she could hear Don Juan opening cabinets and singing to himself far away and her still shaking body was causing her to fumble with the lock and even once causing her to undo what she had so far accomplished.

Her breasts were too numb to feel the splash of her saliva dripping from around her gag to her bloodshot globes.  She watched as the lock sprung loose just like she had been visualizing it moments before.  Daphne suddenly sprung into action, whipping her muscular arms free of the impressive headpiece that had once held the cuffs.  She was now free to open the drawer and undo the cuff that was still on the other hand and the long ankle cuffs. 

She never forgot the array of torture implements she saw in that drawer that this jerk was waiting to use on her.  What she also never forgot was that mixed with her repulsion was a flash, only just a millisecond of curiosity as to how some of those sex toys would feel and what it would be like to be his permanent prisoner in his meticulous modern art fortress.  ‘Not today’ she said to herself as she was hurrying to find things to use as weapons.

With no time to painstakingly unscrew them, Daphne put her clothes on over the tit and clit clamps, pausing only to snap off the rubber bands on her breasts that left deep marks and to tear through the straps of the gag with a blade she had under her fingernail.  It was excruciating to feel her boobs once again circulate blood and to move her aching jaw.  She then grabbed a tripod like a baseball bat and held it over her head.  Although well versed in Jujitsu and Krav Maga, she knew a swift, metallic blow to his head and stomach would be most satisfying. 

As she heard him walking down the hallway, she had a last second thought about what a legal battle/media circus it would be if she maimed him (even in self defense).  Instead she bolted down the corridor, executed a perfect take-down on a very surprised Don Juan and exited the front door.  She drove 100 mph in her Corvette to the hotel and was so pumped with adrenaline, she forgot about the tit and clit clamps.  Only once in the lobby did the horrible pains return and she was starting to get the feeling that she would get permanent damage to her body.  She moved passed the autograph seekers like she was running a gauntlet until she breathlessly entered her peaceful room, locked the door behind her and stripped.  She used one of her lock picks to unscrew the clamps and remove them.  Her wrists, clit and tits looked horrible and she took a month hiatus to psychologically and physically recover.  Almost every day Don Juan called her that month, and each time she never picked up.  He lacked the guts to leave a message or maybe he thought it would be incriminating evidence to apologize on record.

Daphne did not divulge the incident to anyone and Don Juan never approached her again.

Chapter 7: The Greatest Bondage Gear In the World

Brad and the gray haired man went into a private area of the bondage store.  To the surprise of Brad, the man began to smile and patted him on the back like a son. 

“You are a sick son of a bitch, you know that?”  He said with a grin as he lit a cigar and took a puff.  “I like you man and I would give anything to be your age again.  It sounds like you have a wild animal at home.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’m the owner of this adult establishment.  The ‘store’ back there, well it’s all for show as far as I’m concerned.  Lots of assembly line factories in China making that shit over there.  Small Asian children putting together dildos and butt plugs and sex harnesses out of cheap synthetic material.”

Brad nodded politely as he was privately questioning this man’s sanity.

“Yup, the Chinaman makes a good, sturdy sex swing, cock cage and well maybe a decent butterfly vibrator or anal bead now and then but what they make for bondage is not for the type of stallion you got.  Someone has blessed you with a real woman and only the best will do.  Damn I wish I could just see her or be you for a day I would…”

“Uh sir, I appreciate the kind words but I think I have to get going.  I have to…”

“Nonsense!  Let me finish this point.  I have my own private collection that I have widdled by hand with true craftsmanship.  My lady Gerty (may she rest in peace) back in the day used to never be satisfied with ropes or those Medieval shackles.  She was constantly nagging me for tighter, harder, more pain, this and that.  One day a Soviet friend of mine who worked for the KGB or something let me have some blueprints of a few brilliant torture and imprisonment devices.  I smuggled for him some outdated schematics of the US Strategic Defense System and this guy dug it and poneyed up the briefcases of cash that enabled me to afford the parts of the greatest bondage gear ever constructed!”

“Uh huh.”

“If only poor Gerty was alive long enough to use it.  She died tragically of autoerotic asphyxiation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I buried her according to her wishes: naked, wrapped in chains and placed into a padlocked coffin with a swarm of fire ants.  What a special, very dear woman she was.  Would you like to see her picture?”

‘No’, thought Brad.  “Okay.”

From his wallet he took out a picture of a lady with the body of a prize fighter, the face of a pit bull and the eyes of a serial killer.  With one look, Brad felt he had a lifetime of impotence ahead of him.

“Very nice,” Brad said reluctantly.

Brad reflected on entering the perverted world of bondage for real.  It was always only internet fantasies until his very real exchange with Daphne that morning.  Though he liked it, he had premonitions of an ever escalating bondage ‘lifestyle’ that this old man was advocating and which creeped Brad out to no end.

Would he one day be an old man with a fortune in bondage gear and an 80 year old slave with nothing more to talk about than sex? 

“Okay I get it mister…”

“The name’s James R. Leeds.  Here’s my card.”

“I get the idea.  You have the best secret stash of bondage gear and you want me to buy it and whatever, I’ll think about it and come back if I find I’m still interested.”  

“I’m saying I have the greatest bondage gear ever constructed.  I see you are in a hurry.  Why don’t you tell your submissive about it, come by the store and I’ll give you a real tour.  What do you have to lose?  I’m here all day.”

-------------

Meanwhile back at Daphne’s compound, the sun was shining through the shutters and directed full force at the black clad female escape artist.  To top it all off, underwater circulating pumps are not designed to work out of water and the one attached to her pussy was starting to rattle with its grinding mechanisms while in its final gasps of life.  It was generating tremendous heat.  Our heroine was almost to her 5th hour of heavy exercise and bondage and in a perverse way relishing in what she was accomplishing considering her circumstance.  She was a sweaty mess chaffing against the insides of the synthetic leather cocoon but carrying out a plan.

Daphne had begun to mobilize her left arm beneath the leather straightjacket and passed the resistance of the straps, chains and latex tape.  She need only get a finger in reach of that damned collar of the jacket.  Once her middle finger was close enough, the extremely sharp blade concealed under her nail was exposed and used to slice the major anchoring straps of her collar and which allowed it to be removed without needing to tackle the padlocks on the outside.

With her head (including her eyes and ears) encased within a hood, the escape artist advanced her damp forearm from the steamy straightjacket and felt around for the places the chain was anchored to the suit.  She blindly hacked away at the leather connecting points, completely ignoring the chains and locks as she was now fed up with her enslavement and would sacrifice the suit rather than spend extra time tackling the locking mechanisms of the locks.  Her arm was now free enough to liberate her face from the hood, however she went to explore her crotch first as she considered cumming a greater victory than escape. 

Just as she was finishing the removal of the many strips of tape attaching the pump to her crotch, she vaguely heard the muffled sounds of a car coming down the driveway and the garage door opening.  ‘Damn!’  Her captor had come home.

Daphne knew she needed to free herself quickly or else give Brad a tactical advantage which would let him lock her up again.  Daphne sliced her hood and gag off frantically, not pausing to adjust to the light or stretch her cramped neck.  There was still some struggling needed to get her free hand completely loose and then pull the other arm out with some effort.  She was in a zone of laser like focus as she picked the locks of her ankle cuffs and ignored the aches of her body that had been so severely restricted for so many hours.

Brad was already running up the stairs as he had a worst case scenario in mind that she was furious and that he had far exceeded the limits of her sexual fetish.  He was ready to apologize profusely and would even vow to her never to bring bondage into the bedroom as the creepy old man in the bondage store had made him reconsider the appropriateness (sanity) of this kink.

She was free of the bed, ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.  ‘Wow’ she thought, ‘I escaped and I…’  Well now she realized her thirst for orgasm had not been quenched and the sudden surge of adrenaline was enhancing this.  She spotted her well toned and almost totally nude physique in the mirror, glistening with the sweat of victory, and she began to masturbate like she never did before using a tube of toothpaste as a dildo while rubbing her clit.  She began to realize that something especially powerful was rising from deep within and she was shaking and shouting uncontrollably.  She never moaned much during sex as she always wanted to show her sexual partners that she could handle just about anything, but any sense of machismo was long gone.

“Daphne I’m home.  Are you OK?  I’m really sorry about this morning and I will never get carried away like that, I promise.  I’m not even into this bondage thing any more.”

“Fuck, fuckin’ shit, mother fucker, fuckin’ bastard!!!”  Daphne was on another planet and completely oblivious that Brad was outside the door.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry.  Please don’t yell at me; unlock this door.  Let me make it up to you.”

Daphne’s legs were trembling as she crashed to the ground with her first orgasm and screaming hysterically.  “Oh my fuckin’ lord, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!!”  The second orgasm was immediately coming on.  She had never been polyorgasmic before.

“I’ve never heard you talk like this.  You’ve never been so upset, but you’re right.  I messed-up baby.”

“Sweeet motha’ bitch-ass, dick lickin’ shit balls!!!!”

“OK, I deserve that.  I’m such an idiot.  How could I be so stupid as to try anything that would jeopardize the relationship.”  Brad had pulled out a duffel bag and was putting his clothes from her closet, into it.

Daphne was laying on the ground exausted after what felt like at least four orgasms noting tears rolling down her face but not remembering herself actually crying.  All Daphne could do was smile and run her fingers through the carpeted floor.

Brad shyly popped in to grab a few toiletries and popped out.  “Hey, what are you doing?” asked Daphne.

“What does it look like?”

She got up slowly and entered the bedroom still nude.  “Are you going someware?”

“I’m going to go and you’ll never have my ass bothering you again.”

“I love you!  Today was perfect, you were great, when are we doing this again?”

“Are you bipolar or something?” Brad asked.  “You were just cussing me out.”

“I was in there cumming like I’ve never done before.  You were right, I’m a pain and bondage slut.  I never thought I could savor an escape any more than that!”

“Whatever.  I’m getting out of here.”

“We need to do this more.”

“No we need to do this less.  Much less.”  “I don’t want to have-to bury you in a coffin of fire ants or something” Brad mumbled.

“Huh?”

“Oh nothing.  Some insane shit the owner of the bondage store was telling me.”

“You were in a bondage store?  What did you buy me?”

“Nothing.  I’m not buying you anything.  You’d probably just make mince-meat out of the bondage gear anyways.”

“You’re right, I need a real challenge.”

“Daphne, did it ever occur to you that you just keep challenging yourself, keep testing your limits until nothing else matters and you have nothing to show for it except a messed-up body and an unquenchable fetish.”

“I think you know that I have built a mass fortune on this ‘unquenchable fetish’ and with your help I will blow people away with some serious escape mastery.  Where do you think you got the money for that car, or the cell phone that takes pictures and can be used as a shoe buffer.  That glipse of cruelty I saw from you this morning is exactly what I need from a trainer.  Plus, I have a feeling we’ll be fucking a lot and I mean a lot.”

*Gulp*  Brad swallowed hard.  There was a long moment of silence as Brad pondered what the next few months of his life would be like.  “Um, uh…what if I told you that I found the greatest bondage gear in the world.  Would that make you horny?”