The chair arrived at ten o'clock this morning.  I called Peter and asked him to to come over and help me assemble it, but he said he couldn't come by until after two. That was fine, I just wanted it put together before bedtime tonight.

I went into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. It was cold so I put it in the microwave for ninety seconds while I scouted around for something to munch with it. When the microwave dinged, I walked to the basement door and turned on the light. Elizabeth started shuffling around immediately. I heard the rattling of the chains that she wore last night -- as punishment for yesterday's transgressions -- and smiled. She had exactly thirty seconds to get to the top of the stairs and present herself to me. I listened to her body moving across the concrete floor as she crawled toward the bottom step.

The single length of fairly heavy chain - three feet of 8mm links which must have weight three or four pounds - that ran through her nipple, nose and cunt rings was swaying and clattering against the steps as she inched her way up on her elbows and knees. She'd slept with her wrists and knees bound last night and the trip would take quite a while. She'd made it in time yesterday, but I knew she was tiring.

Elizabeth got to the top step and pushed herself onto the kitchen floor, then turned around and presented her backside to me. She slid her elbows underneath her shoulders and then pushed her knees back until her ass was up as high as possible.

"Thirty-three seconds," I said. "You're already earning tonight's punishment." I came around in front of her and picked up the doggie dish. "And, breakfast is going to be kibble again." I scooped a cup of the dry dog food out of the big bag then poured a cup of warm water over it, stirring it slowly with a finger. I watched her drop her head and smiled. I'd learned early on that the dogfood symbolized something to her. I never quite figured out what, but I knew it was a powerful button. She hated it. I, on the other hand, loved it. It had been weeks since I'd had to scramble up eggs for her or pour her a bowl of cereal. This way was a lot cheaper for me and a lot more humiliating for me.

There was a three-minute sand timer on the counter. I picked it up and set it on the floor right beside the dogfood bowl. She stared at it as I turned it over, the anger still bright in her eyes. I ran my hand over her bottom a few times, feeling the cool flesh. It was chilly in the basement, I kept it in the 60's, enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to make her sick. After all, sleeping in the basement was punishment and needed to feel like it.

"The chair came today," I said, watching her staring at the sand. She sniffed the bowl but didn't move. "Come on, puppy, you don't want to be hungry all day." I stroked her bottom again, letting my hand cup her ass, my fingertips grazing her cunt lips. Her thigh muscles flexed as she tried to open her legs. I slid my hand further down, fingertip touching her clit now. She pushed backward.

"Time's running out," I said as I stood up and walked back to the counter for my coffee. "Finish up so you can use the litter box and we can get on with our day."

---

Elizabeth earned her punishment today.

Her first offense was at the library. I went to do some research for a story I was working on and brought her along so she wouldn't get into mischief at home. I left her sitting in the magazine section while I went to the reference stacks. When I came back, a college student was chatting with her. She was laughing and leaning forward, listening to his story. When she turned her head and saw me, she froze. Those were some of the most delicious moments for me - the look in her eye at that moment is hard to describe. Fear, surrender, arousal. She knew that I was going to  something wrong with what she was doing. She was talking too much or not enough. She should have let him pick her up or she should have discouraged him. There were no rules about that sort of thing other than one simple one: whatever she did would be wrong.

"Elizabeth? Have you been bothering this young man?" I asked sternly.

He gave me a puzzled look but shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, I was just asking her if..."

"Has she been bothering you?" I said, interrupting him.

"No, not at all, I was..."

"Has she done anything offensive? Asked you any inappropriate questions?"

He just stared now, suspicious that something was going on but with no idea what.

"Did she come on to you?"

"No! No," he said, weakly.

"She has quite an appetite and is always picking up stray men to take home and fuck." I whispered it in a conspiratorial tone, watched his face. His reaction was exactly what I expected. I went on. "She'd be glad to suck you off in the bathroom."

He shook his head, his hands trembling as he grabbed his books and wandered off into the audio-visual racks.

---

Her second offense was while she was helping Peter assemble the Chair. It was simple enough - she handed him a flat-head when he wanted a Phillips - but it was enough.

---

Her third offense was over dinner. She knelt on the floor beside me like a good dog but when I dropped a scrap of gristle on the floor, she sniffed it and looked up at me.

"Hesitation?" I sneered.

She trembled slightly but lowered her head and picked it up off the floor with her lips. She chewed and swallowed quickly. She retched it up minutes later, but that didn't count as an offense. That, I expected.

---

Peter set up three different video cameras for the live feed.

Part of the agreement with the fellows who make the Chair is that the first time it's used, it's broadcast live on their channel. It helps their sales and, they say, helps their research department figure out what features to add next.

The program for tonight was that Elizabeth would spend the night in the chair. This was to be her new home when she was being punished. We'd seen it on a website and I'd immediately contacted them about buying one. We agreed on a price and on terms and they'd delivered in less than two weeks.

Peter gave Elizabeth the "uniform". Another requirement was that the slave be dressed in a uniform that matched their advertising material. I didn't mind, didn't care really what Elizabeth was wearing when I finally gave her over to the Chair.

They'd had to modify the suit somewhat, her 44DD titties were not something they'd planned for. Their compromise was to open the latex around the base of her boobs and let them hang free, rather than being constricted under the rubber. When she was dressed, we had her parade around from camera to camera. She had a hard time balancing on the ballet boots but she survived. The rest of her body was covered with tight, thin, clear latex, tinted slightly grey, then a tight, black corset, and a hood that left only her eyes and nose uncovered. The latex sheathed her neck and flared at the bottom, covering her collarbone a bit.

They'd added some features specifically for Elizabeth, based on the photos I sent. Her heavy nose ring snapped to a D ring they'd secured at her chin and the waist was much smaller than I'd seen on any of the other models. They made some argument for it that I forgot, it didn't really much matter to me. If they wanted to use her that way, why argue?

After parading her around in front of the cameras a few more times, Peter walked Elizabeth to the Chair and started strapping her in place.

---

It was just before midnight when Elizabeth passed out for the first time.

Her head flopped forward and Peter turned off the machines. Her body continued to tremble, thighs contracting and relaxing, hips pumping, for another full minute.

"Just fucking amazing," Peter said. I nodded.

"Years of training. She can't even stop when she's asleep," I said. "She'll pretty much fuck anything, anytime." Peter nodded. "I know. I've been at your parties."

"Look at her," I said. i walked closer and circled the Chair. Elizabeth was secured to two pieces of steel, joined under her ass at a 90 degree angle. The vertical bar ran up her spine and behind the back of her head, the horizontal bar ended just behind her knees. Her feet dangled, toes inches from the floor. There were straps everywhere. The first ran across her shoulders and across her chest. The next was just above her tits, the third just below. There were three beneath that - those were the evil ones. Those were the ones that constricted and made it impossible for her to breathe until they relaxed. Four more were evenly spaced along her thigh from crotch to knee, then more around her calves and ankles.

The real stimulation came from the pistons, though. Both were air driven and speed controlled. One pushed a thick rubber cock into her cunt, the other pushed a thinner ebonite shaft deep into her ass. They could be adjusted for speed and depth. The cunt dildo could fuck her up to eight inches deep, the ass dildo eleven. Two adjustable speed vibrators pressed against her cunt, the thin tips on either side of her clitoris.

I knelt beside the machine.

"All steel, Peter. All steel." I ran my hand along the top of her left thigh. "This tender flesh..." I banged my knuckles against the legs that held the Chair, "...and this hard, unforgiving metal." I stood up and shuddered. "I'd be terrified."  I leaned closer to her, looking at her face, eyes closed, breath steady. "Her body is completely at the mercy of this cold metal and what we tell it to do to her." I stayed there, kneeling beside her, and turned to Peter. "Slow. Up the ass. Eight inches."

Peter turned the Manual knob and the piston started sliding slowly up into Elizabeth's ass. I head the juicy sound of the lubricant oozing around the shaft, heard a few drops splash on the concrete. The shaft slowly vanished up into her body until I saw her jerk awake and stiffen, her eyes open wide, back straightening to let the shaft slide deeper into her. She turned her head toward me, begged me with her eyes.

"Peter, the vibrators."

I heard the hum start and saw Elizabeth throw her head back, banging it against the steel. She started humping immediately, moaning and grunting as the shaft continued its journey up into her body. She shuddered and came, pushing herself down hard, then quickly trying to get away, pushing upward, eyes still begging for mercy.

"In and out," I said. Peter flipped a switch and the ass-shaft slid out until it was just two inches inside her, then slowly pushed all the way back up into her again. It was moving slow but her body was jerking, fucking it twice, three times as fast as it was fucking her.

"You want it, don't you?"

"Mnnmmm," she grunted, shaking her head 'yes'. I looked at Peter. "Deeper." Elizabeth shook her head hard, pleading underneath the hood, eyes wide as the shaft pushed deeper into her.

"Nine inches," Peter said. I stared. She was part of a machine, the metal Chair and her flesh, a bundle of muscle and tissue and nerve endings responding to being fucked. I was turned on and wanted to fuck her, her complete and utter helplessness was like a physical thing in the room. The machine could do anything it wanted to her and she couldn't do anything but take it. I felt dizzy. I wondered what it must be like for her, knowing she was so completely at the mercy of a control box that sat on a table in front of Peter. I held my breath as the cock pushed its full nine inches into her and she came again. I'd made her cum over and over for hours before, but never like this, never restrained with her legs closed and a machine fucking her. I wondered how long she could last.

"Ream her cunt too," I said to Peter. He turned more knobs and I watched the dildo start moving deeper into her cunt. He sped it up until it was fucking her fast, five inches deep. "And the straps." He turned another dial and the three straps across her belly pulled tight. Her body was shaking again, head moving side to side, nostrils flaring as she struggled to breathe. I heard Peter adjust the speed of the vibrators and she threw her head back and came again.

The straps relaxed and she gulped air through her nose, body still shaking, muscles tense up and down her legs, belly and neck. I got up and walked to Peter.

"Set the controls to constrict every five minutes." He turned dials and flicked switches. "All set."

"Good, I said." I walked to Elizabeth and leaned forward. i ran my hand over her chest, my palm  rubbing her stiff left nipple. Her body shook and she came again.

"You're going to be like this all night. I'm going up to bed." I stepped back. "We'll check on you in the morning." Peter got up and followed me to the bottom of the basement stairs. We watched her as she shook her head and struggled. Her voice was muffled by the hood but we knew she was begging, pleading with us to turn it off, or down, or stay with her.

It didn't do her any good.