(Author’s note) Jennifer’s Journey was a fictional story, written about 10 years ago by myself.

It was a scene that I had always wanted to try for real, and on New Years Eve 2009, I was finally lucky enough to be able to recreate the story with a girl who had read the story and was keen to recreate the scenario with me.

Of course, trying anything like this has its risks, and I would not recommend trying this without weighing up what can go wrong and planning for it. Our first attempt to do this before Christmas was postponed because the weather and driving conditions made it too dangerous to try. Fortunately, conditions were far more favourable on New Years Eve and lighter traffic minimised the risks involved. Of course, there are things that you can get away with in fiction, which in reality fall in the too difficult category, but I tried to stay as close to the original principal as I could, especially in respect of the level of restraint employed.

This is first and foremost still a fictional story, but you can find out what really happened when the fiction came to life.

Jennifer's Journey. (The Fiction)

Jennifer was not looking forward to the bus journey home that Friday evening. She had been rushed off her feet all day, and the long journey home was not a pleasant one at the best of times. It was, therefore, a pleasant surprise to leave the office and find her husband's car waiting outside the door. Jennifer slid into the passenger seat, given Malcolm a peck on the check as she did. "To what do I owe this honour?" she enquired sarcastically, as he guided the car out into the heavy traffic. She noticed that he had not turned in the direction of home.

"I've a surprise for you. We're not going home tonight. Instead, we're booked into a secluded little farmhouse in the Lake District for the weekend. There will be nobody about except us."

"Sounds terrific. When did 'we' decide to do this then?"

"You remember that film we were watching the other week, about the couple who got off on master and slave games. If I remember you found that quite 'stimulating'." Malcolm didn't wait for a response. "Well, I've been busy in my spare time. For this weekend, I'm going to be your master."

Jennifer smiled to herself without saying a word. It was something that she had wanted to try for ages, only bringing up the subject with Malcolm had always been the difficult part. The film that they had been watching on satellite TV that weekend had included a few scenes of very mild bondage, and had given her the chance that she needed to raise the idea. She wondered now what she had let herself in for, although she did have complete faith in Malcolm.

Within a short time, they were pulling onto a side road, and stopped outside the house that she recognised as belonging to Malcolm's long time friend. "Terry has been away all week, and he let me use the house so that you wouldn't have any idea of what was going on. I suggest that you have a quick shower before we leave. I have something for you to wear in the house."

Jennifer slipped upstairs and into the bathroom while Malcolm listened for the sound of running water before starting the preparations for her journey. Fifteen minutes later, Jenny was out of the shower and dry, naked, as she normally was about the house. She enjoyed showing off her body, and Malcolm was the first to admit that she did have a magnificent example of the female form. Her legs were longer than average, propping up her five foot seven inch frame. Her waist was still a very slim twenty-three inches and she possessed a firm and well tanned pair of breasts which provided a perfect counterpoint for her narrow waist. She looked for Malcolm and found him in the master bedroom.

"Where's this outfit that you've got for me then?"

"All in good time dear, There are a few things to take care of first." He took hold of her wrists and, one after the other, wrapped a pair of soft leather cuffs around them.

"What are these for?" she asked as Malcolm went to the far wall. Her reply came in the form of a rope and shackle that fell from the ceiling in front of her eyes. She looked up to see that it was looped from one of the oak beams that formed part of the ceiling. Malcolm swiftly attached the cuffs and began to haul on the ropes until her hands were well above her head and she was forced to stand on tiptoe.

"I've already told you, you are my slave for this weekend. That means that your wear what I tell you to wear and you do what I tell you to do." Malcolm stood for a moment and admired the considerably stretched form of his wife, before reaching in the cupboard and retrieving a corset, which he wrapped, round her reduced torso.

Although Jenny had experience of wearing a corset before, while wearing several of her tighter dresses, she was not prepared for the severity of this one, which was obviously far more constricting than those she had been accustomed to. She twisted her body around so that she faced the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. "At least this way," she figured, "I can see what is happening behind me," her trust in Malcolm's predictability rapidly diminishing. Jenny stared, her waist slowly disappearing, as Malcolm began the task of drawing in the endless laces until he reached the bottom edge of the garment. He let her relax for a minute and then, to her horror, started again at the top, this time with a little device that hooked the laces which allowed him to draw them ever tighter until the two edges of the corset met.

"Steady on" she yelled. "I'm not a wasp you know," but Malcolm kept up the relentless pressure on her waist. Jenny, by now was panting in short breaths. Her breasts, which were in a permanent state of uplift, because of the lift provided by the edge of the corset, were rising even further in rapid order. Slowly, her breathing resumed its normal rate as her body adjusted. To emphasise the narrowness, Malcolm placed his hands around her, his fingers meeting in the front, meaning that the circumference of her waist was now less than eighteen inches. Jenny had to admit that the effect was stunning. She couldn't wait to try on whatever outfit Malcolm had for her, knowing the effect that a wasp waist had on her man.

Still busy admiring herself, she felt Malcolm tap her on the ankle and instinctively she raised it, whilst maintaining balance on the tip of her other foot to relieve the pressure on her wrists. She watched him guide one foot, and then the other in to a pair of sheer white stockings, carefully smoothing the wrinkles before attaching them to the attached suspenders of the corset. Next, he reached into the cupboard and lifted out a pair of shoes. "How the hell do you expect me to wear those?" Jenny exclaimed, as he held them out for her to examine. The flame red sandals had a myriad of straps which would enclose her foot without any chance of being able to kick them off. What really concerned her though, was the needle style heel that was well in excess of five inches and more likely to be six. She reckoned that to stand, only a small part of her toe, and what existed of the tip of the heel would have to support her. With her feet being a tiny size three, the arch was going to be considerable and she wished that she could go back to the conservative two inch courts that were her standard footwear.

Malcolm grasped each ankle in turn, pushing her toes well into the vamp, her painted nails matching the colour of the soft leather straps. She felt him carefully adjusting the four buckles that secured the straps which passed over and around her feet, before pulling the final strap which wrapped totally around her ankle, forcing the heel of the shoe firmly into her own heel. When she put her foot down, she noticed that far from allowing her to rest her aching calf muscles where she had been stood on tiptoe, her foot was even higher, although it did relieve some of the pressure on her wrists. As Malcolm collected the next item of clothing, Jenny shifted experimentally, trying to get used to the stilting effect of the extreme stiletto heels. As she twisted around, the glint of metal caught he eye and she realised that the ankle strap had not been buckled but padlocked. Obviously the shoes were not meant to come off.

"I've always wanted to see you in high heels," Malcolm stated as he returned carrying a weird piece of harness work in his hand, "only you have always complained about anything higher than you normal heels. Well now you don't have a choice, so you either learn to walk in them or crawl."

Before Jenny could think up a suitable reply, Malcolm was attaching a strap at the back of her forehead, passing it all the way round her head above the eyes. Suddenly, she became aware of a considerable weight pulling her head back. He next passed an extremely wide collar under her chin, which forced her head to remain in its set back position, finding that when it was buckled, she was unable to move her head sideways. Looking in the mirror, which was now the only way that she could study what was happening to her, she watched Malcolm laying straps that were attached to the collar, along her shoulder blades, with twin loops at each end which he buckled loosely under her armpits. He couldn't tighten these at the moment with her hands still above her head so he moved down her body to encompass her already tortured waist with a four-inch wide belt. This was connected by an adjustable link to the collar that he immediately drew taut. The belt had, imbedded in it, several small rings, and a number of buckles on the lower edge, which she could not fathom a purpose for. She was sure though, that they would not be redundant for long. Suddenly she felt the pressure on her arms relax, and she was grateful to drop her cuffed wrists down in front of her, only for them to be separated and then attached to rings on each side of the belt. She now found that her arms were pinned in the hollow formed by her narrowed waist, and she was still unable to reach anything of importance.

With arms lowered, Malcolm was now able to tighten the straps that passed under her armpits until they dug into the soft flesh. He then produced two further straps, which he attached to buckles on the shoulder straps, first at the back, which he hauled on until her shoulders were forced back with the result that her breasts now protruded even further forward. The other strap was then affixed across the tops of her breasts, creating an extreme shape, assisted by two loops of thick elastic, which were passed around the base of each mound of heavy flesh. By the time he had finished Jennifer possessed two balloons rather than breasts. Amidst all the pulling, Jenny found that she was struggling for balance and on a couple of occasions, she had to be caught before she toppled over. A final adjustment, made at the back of the head, meant that the strap from her forehead to her collar was now so tight that her neck was starting to ache.

Malcolm took some time to admire his handiwork, satisfied that Jenny had no control over her own movements. He could also feel that she was ready for more and so continued with her preparations. He led her over to a high-backed chair, ordering her to bend over it and spread her legs wide apart. Taking a pot of lubricating jelly, he used his index finger to lubricate her arse hole, slowly invading her back passage. Jenny gasped as the tip of his finger reached inside her, rotating as it felt its way, only for the gasp to turn to a low groan a she felt the tip of the butt-plug pressing against her. She stiffened as she felt it slowly sliding up her, the plug making it for a full six inches before the anal muscles closed about the tapered neck. Without the use of her hands, she knew that she could not eject it, even if she wanted to.

Ordering her to stand upright again, she accepted a larger plug in her front passage, assisted this time by her own juices. Turning around to face Malcolm, she saw that he held a curved piece of silver metalwork in his hand and quickly realised what the buckles at the bottom of her corset were for, as they corresponded to short straps on the plate. He bent down, Jenny feeling a slight tug on her inserts before experiencing the cold metal being applied to her sex. The plate was tight enough, that it firmly held the plugs in place, but was springy enough to shape itself to her body. The back of the plate passed neatly into the cheeks of her backside before erupting to meet the buckles on the belt. When he had finished, she was aware of the pressure that was being put on the plugs, forcing them deeper inside her.

"Try taking a few steps before we go any further" suggested Malcolm as he stood back to admire the view. Jenny deliberately put one foot in front of the other as she fought desperately for balance, her hands providing no assistance. Very slowly, she made her way around the room, the heels of her shoes causing her to exaggerate her gait, throwing her forward all the time. She was becoming aware of the effect that the plugs were having on her internal organs, and had to stop before she had a massive orgasm.

Malcolm stepped forward, proffering her outer garment, a mini-dress that was so short, that Jenny doubted that it would provide any protection at all. The waistband had been tailored into the classic cut which fitted her extreme waist. She also saw that the dress had a high stiff collar, which she assumed would cover the collar of the harness. The material was again leather, the same colour as her shoes, and formed a startling contrast to the white stockings. Malcolm undid the back zip and knelt down so that Jenny could insert first one foot and then the other, nearly falling over in the process. Working the dress up her legs, she felt how tight the lower half was and seriously doubted that she would be able to part her legs. Malcolm stopped when it reached her waist, unclipped her right wrist from its restraining clip and removed the cuff. Knowing that it was pointless trying to resist, and being practically unable to walk let alone run, she timidly held out her hand while it was forced into a mitten which held her fingers and thumb tightly together. The locking strap surrounding her wrist was tight enough to prevent any movement inside the glove, but remained unlocked for the time being. He left her right wrist free while he repeated the process with her other hand, not that Jenny could have achieved anything with the fingers encased as they were.

Raising the front of the dress, Malcolm guided both arms into the tight fitting sleeves, the mittens impeding the process slightly. As her fingers slipped out of the ends, he brought the D rings of each wrist through slots in the sleeves and the rings on the waistband through corresponding slits in the dress. He then reattached each wrist to the waist belt, locking the mittens, sleeves and the dress in place. With the mittens matching the dress exactly, it was almost impossible to distinguish them from the rest of the outfit. On the very tip of each mitten was another ring, and these were linked to the ring at the front of her belt, ensuring that the hands stayed flat against her stomach. She was unable to move them in any way, and her elbows now resting directly behind her. Malcolm continued to zip up the dress, Jennifer feeling other tugs at the back of her waist and shoulders and correctly assumed that similar rings attached to the harness were being threaded through her outer layer of clothing.

Satisfied that her outfit was all but complete, he asked her "What do you think of your outfit then? " adding a bit mystically, "this will be your last chance to comment." Jenny teetered over to the mirror and by looking down her nose, she was able to admire the effect of the minuscule waist and enormous breast that strained against her dress though their own bondage. She could feel her engorged nipples rubbing against the soft lining, making her more conscious of her predicament. "How does it feel to have a figure of 38 - 18 - 36?"

“I hate it, but at the same time a love it as well. I never thought that I could feel so restricted but it looks absolutely fabulous. The heels I would change of course and the corset it only just bearable. This would certainly turn heads in the high street. I don't think you could make me any more helpless," she added but she was wrong. Malcolm got her to turn round and put out her tongue. She felt him putting a stud through the piercing that she had done when she was much younger, but had kept it from healing up more out of a sense of rebellion then anything else. Every so often, she would wear a bar in her mouth just to be different. Now she was not so sure it was a good idea.

What Malcolm had put through her tongue was a two piece barbell, with a fine screw for connecting the two parts together. Satisfied that they were securely fixed and could not slide out he offered a thin piece of shaped plastic up to her mouth with a slot in the middle and a larger hole at one end. He placed the rounded end of the barbell through the hole, and then made her withdraw her tongue back into her mouth, The moment she did that, the barbell slid back along the slot, pinning her tongue to the plastic former. Gently, he pushed the assembly into her mouth, which was too wide to be accommodated behind her teeth so it had to rest between them although she found she could still close her lips, hiding the fact that she was severely gagged. Two small metal rods protruded from the sides of her mouth, gently pulling back on her cheeks, preventing the plate from going too far back in the mouth and causing her to choke. Making sure that her lips were closed, Malcolm finished the gag of with a clear rubber strap, about two inches wide, which he stretched across her mouth, effectively sealing it. The ends were linked to the head harness, making doubly sure that her head was not able to move. Jenny tried desperately to express her displeasure at this latest addition, but the combination of her immovable tongue and sealed mouth meant that the best she could achieve was a snorting sound from her nose. Malcolm sat her down in the chair to recover from the shock of her predicament and then disappeared without another word. She heard the car start, the engine getting loader which meant to her that he was moving it into the garage. "At least I won't have to parade through the street like this, " she thought with some relief.

It was some ten minutes before Malcolm returned, and helping her up, guided her through the hallways and down to the garage. Unable to lower her head, she had to rely on Malcolm's assistance to get into the car, her body position being shifted so that she sat forward in the seat. Malcolm retrieved two sets of straps from behind her that he had specially fitted to the car. The first he passed through D rings on the back of her waistband, making sure that they also went between her elbows and her body. The second set went through the D rings on her shoulder blades, finally explaining their presence. He connected the corresponding ends with hasp clamps in the centre of her spine then moved into the back seat, and began to tighten both sets of straps using the type of ratchet normally used to secure sheeting on the lorries that Malcolm worked on.

Slowly and inexorably, Jenny found herself being drawn back into the cavity of the seat, and shuffled her body to try and find the best and most comfortable position before the full effects of the restraints took hold. By the time Malcolm could tighten the straps no more, Jenny's upper torso had been moulded to the seat back, and she now found it impossible to move from her shoulders to her waist. She also discovered that the way he had passed the straps through her elbows meant that her arms were now firmly fixed and her lower arms were stretched tightly around her frame. Next, she felt him work on the sides of her headband, and Malcolm passed a strap around the car headrest, which was attached to her collar. The buckles were adjusted in such a way that the crown of her head was fixed to the headrest and she could no longer move her head in any direction. The only facial expression she could manage was one of a "gagged stare."

Moving again to the front seat, Malcolm withdrew a metal device from under the seat. It was about a foot square, and had cups on the leading edge, into which Jenny's open toed sandals were guided, the steel proving to be cold to the touch, sending a shiver up her. The heels of her shoes were slid into short upright sleeves, preventing her feet from moving sideways. Finally, a T-shaped bar, which was hinged to the back of the plate was swung up where it met perfectly with the hasp locks on the ankles of her shoes. Quickly unlocking them, the bar was soon mated to make it an integral part of her shoes. "There goes my chance to stretch my legs out," Jenny thought to herself as she felt the plate being pulled backwards, until her calves met the edge of the seat, although not tightly enough to prevent any movement of the knees. This was about the only part of her body she could now move. The reason for this soon became apparent.

Malcolm produced a long thin cable with a plug on each end. Raising the hem of her dress her thrust his hand up her dress towards the chastity plate, and she could feel a slight pressure as her searched for the right spot. This puzzled Jenny but the best she could achieve by way of a question was a slight wrinkling of her nose, every other part of her anatomy incapable of movement. If Malcolm saw her expression, he close to ignore it, instead readjusting her dress so that her stocking tops were just hidden from view. He then placed a piece of metal, formed into two arches, across her knees. The metal was painted white, matching her stockings, as was the strap that went from the restraint under the seat where it was clipped to the headrest support together with the foot restraint strap. Pulling on both until he was satisfied with the adjustment the knee clamp now dug into the seat making a type of stock which held Jenny's legs securely in place. Her bondage was now complete. She tried to wriggle, desperate to relieve some of the pressure points, but found that she could not move a single inch. Her only saving grace was that the harnesses could not be seen from the outside. Malcolm checked all of the restraints for security, and then covered the back and sides of the seat with a normal seat cover, which hid the multitude of straps and buckles.

Climbing into the driver's side, Malcolm leant over her. "Silly me," he chuckled. "Mustn't forget your seat belt. I wouldn't want you to be stopped by the police for not being securely strapped in." he started to laugh as he did up his own seat belt and put the keys in the ignition. "In case you get bored, I'll let you look in the vanity mirror," dropping the sun visor in front of Jenny's eyes. The gag, she noted, was the same colour as her skin tone. It was also a relief that the headband was hidden by her hairline. "One last thing before we start." He retrieved the other end of mysterious cable that was plugged into her chastity plate from where it was draped over the hand brake, and plugged it into the cigarette lighter. "I installed a small but very powerful motor into both your plugs which are now connected to the cigarette lighter. Also, I've had the car wiring altered so that the faster the engine is running, the more current passes through them and the harder they work." He started the engine and gunned the accelerator to maximum revs. From the expression that Jenny saw on her own face in the mirror, let alone the multitude of feelings welling up inside her, she knew that this was going to be an interminable three hour journey.

Jennifer’s Journey. (The Reality)

The invite to the party had been accepted with enthusiasm. Now, she was unsure of what she had let herself in for. Their previous meeting had proved that he was inventive in his thinking, and devious in his ability to frustrate and punish her. This time it seems; he was preparing her to suffer even more outrageous bondage situations.

Her torment was to start even before they got to the party. He had promised something different, with a daring and very public edge to it, yet the outfit itself was conventional for the type of party that they were attending. The leather mini dress would not raise an eyebrow in most places on a Saturday night. The boots, while on the high side for her with their five inch metal heels were more than acceptable. Not like the “hooker” style thigh boots he had made her wear last time. Walking in them was made slightly easier by the hidden mini platform but it still caused her to step with caution as she made her way down the stairs to where he waited for her.

In his hand was the one item she both dreaded yet secretly yearned. Lifting the skirt to reveal her naked body below he first congratulated her on being able to follow his “no underwear” dressing instructions to the letter. Carefully, he slid the steel belt around her tiny waist, bringing the ends together to form a solid circle. The pins slid into place through the matching slots. Instructed to spread her legs apart, she complied without comment. His hand glided over her inner thighs. She gasped as she felt the cold metal come into contact with her warm pussy, the strap pressing around her sensitive parts without making any direct contact. The click of a padlock signified the end to any chance of self- indulgence. Now her only hope of satisfaction would be what he allowed her.

The jacket was an essential for the freezing cold weather of the cold New Years Eve. The black leather looked warm and inviting as he instructed her to turn away from him. This must be the mysterious Butterfly Jacket that he had told her about. Her efforts to find such a garment on the net had met with failure, and so she was still unaware of the power that it would give him once placed on her body. Grabbing her wrist, he told her to put the palm of her hand on her shoulder. Puzzled by the instruction, she complied anyway. Over her pointed elbow, the sleeve was thrust and she realised that this was no ordinary jacket. His intention was to have her travel in bondage. Her arm in place, the other received similar attention, the body of the jacket covering her breasts, with a full height collar to keep her head held high. As he laced the edges of the jacket together along her spine, she began to experience the true efficiency of her restraint. He taunted her as he laced, making references to what it would feel like to have her arms amputated at the elbows. A glance in the mirror made her realise how appropriate that was. Her arms were little more than stumps, the sleeves creating the shape of an insects wings. Just like a butterfly in fact.

As a gesture towards her privacy amongst her neighbours, he had at least provided her with a shawl to hide her restrained status from prying eyes. With that in place over her shoulders, she was led out to the awaiting car and made comfortable in the front passenger seat. The normal function of a seat belt is to ensure that you remain in your seat until the wearer wishes to leave the vehicle. This one made sure that she remained in the vehicle come what may, as without hands she had no way to unfasten it. Making sure that she was comfortably positioned, her installation continued. A strap above her knees that clamped her thighs tightly, was followed by another about her boot clad ankles. She then heard the rear door open, feeling the icy draft on her neck. Pushing her head forward, her long brown hair was draped over the back of the seat, underneath the raised headrest, to form a long plait. He kept up a constant pull while he tinkered with something behind he head. She could hear the tinkle of what sounded like nuts being spun on a bolt, but could not turn her head sufficiently to see.

Finally, he returned to the front seat and knelt down at her feet, reaching under the seat. Placing something across both ankles, he pushed them back against the adjustment bar of the seat, while at the same time hooking something onto the buckle of the strap across her knees. She quickly realised that her bondage ordeal was not yet over. He returned to the back seat, hooking the hidden bungee cord to the clamp that now caused a constant pull on her hair and scalp, She briefly panicked, testing her bondage for weaknesses and finding that she was unable to move her head more than half and inch each way. Her ankles were pinned back against the seat and clamped into place, causing her knees to be raised well above the level of her hips. With her arms encased in leather, she was trapped and completely helpless. She thought back to the conversation that they had some days before. Now she understood that what he had threatened, the thing that she had dismissed as idle bluster, was about to become a stark reality.

Climbing into the driver’s side, he started the car, taking a quick last look to make sure that nobody was paying any particular attention to what had gone on in the past few minutes. Now there was only one thing left to do, put into place the item that would guarantee that the journey over the next hour would be the most frustrating yet exhilarating that this young lady had ever undertaken. Reaching back behind the passenger seat he retrieved the vibrator from where it was hidden. Looking very much like the dreaded and powerful Hitachi, this was a cordless version, it’s battery life guaranteed to outlive the length of the journey. Using the natural contours of her bound thighs to keep it in place, he thrust the bulbous end hard against the cold steel of her chastity belt. The other end was secured under the strap about her knees, ensuring that it would never be displaced, no matter how much she desperately tried to remove it. As a final touch, he rearranged the shawl, once again hiding the whole ensemble before engaging first gear and slowly driving away.

As they drove slowly through city streets, the amber glow of the streetlights illuminated her without ever revealing her plight. Concentrating on the drive, he was all too aware that her predicament was already starting to have an affect on her. Despite her bound condition, she was gently raising her hips, trying to cause some pressure on her clitoris against the belt which separated her body from the torture to come. A slap across her thighs warned her that it was inappropriate for her to come so soon into the journey. She tried to relax, but the frustration and excitement kept on building. Finally, they left the city streets and suburbs behind, joining the free flowing motorways for the remainder of the journey. With traffic light he could afford to give her a little more attention. Gently, his left hand raised the hem of her shawl and without once taking his eyes off the road, a finger flicked a switch. The car was filled with a soft humming, confirming that the vibrator was now free to do it’s worst. Instantly, her body tensed as this new experience assaulted her senses. The vibrations could clearly be felt through the chastity belt, but she knew full well that it would not be enough. This was a worst case scenario for her. To be made to orgasm in a very public manner was bad enough, but to be kept in a constant state of arousal without the release of the climax was ten times worse.

The miles passed, and as they did she became more desperate. He could see out of the corner of his eye that her lips were moving. Occasionally he would catch a whisper, “Oh God, Oh Jesus, Oh fuck” she would repeat to herself over and over again, almost as if she was praying for his forgiveness and release at the same time. Constantly, she would throw her hips forward, trying frantically to close the tiny gap between clitoris and steel shield but it never happened. Still, cars sped past, the occupants oblivious to the sexual pantomime being played out beside them behind the tinted glass. Occasionally, when he thought that she was getting to close, he would utter a forceful “No” in her direction. This was enough to remind her that she could only come with his permission and on his timing.

Finally, it was time. The complex network of motorways navigated, it was now clear and straight road for the last few miles. The hand again slid to her thighs, and the switch was advanced another notch. The humming became louder and with it the mantra. Still she could not find sufficient to climax on her own. Now her frustration reached a crescendo, pulling her head forward as far as it would go before allowing it to crash back into the headrest. Her feet pulled forward, dragging the clamp on her hair down, hoping that the pain in her scalp would be sufficient to trigger the orgasm she felt she so richly deserved.

It was time to put her out of her misery. His hand pressed down on the end of the vibrator, forcing it hard into the shield of the belt. Never once did his eyes leave the road, trusting his hearing to know when she was close. Her thrusts become more violent as she at last felt the full force of the vibrations course through her body. Her breathing was rapid, her head shaking as much as her novel head restraint allowed. Suddenly, with a cry, her body straightened and tensed to the limit of her movement. For several seconds it stayed there, as the pain amalgamated with the pleasure to create the perfect storm. Still he kept the pressure on the vibrator, allowing the orgasm to continue until she was spent. Her body collapse back into the seat, occasionally twitching as the aftershocks worked through her body. Her eyes, tightly shut until now flickered open after several minutes, and a smile formed on her lips as she whispered “Thank you” before relaxing back into her tight bondage for the remainder of the short journey to their destination.

When he had promised her an orgasm at seventy miles an hour on the motorway, she hadn’t envisaged quite what an experience it would be.

22.03.10