Chapter Six: Practice Makes Perfect
“You’re looking very fetching,” I told Jill as I buckled the suspension cuff around her right wrist.
“I don’t feel fetching,” she said gloomily.
“Wishing we hadn’t been so nasty to Fearless Leader, now, are we?” I smirked. “Wishing we hadn’t made her do rude things that sent Shawnee nearly into orbit – which admittedly our slave seemed to enjoy.”
“Oh shut up,” said Jill as I secured the left cuff.
We were in the Post Room, with barefoot Jill attired in a short denim skirt and a pale pink lycra boob tube. Under instructions from Monica I had positioned Jill facing the mirror, with her arms spread upwards at forty five degrees. Nothing strenuous, but just preliminary preparation for the big trial run on webcam. Jill’s expression was one of trepidation as I looked at my watch.
“Four o’clock and all’s well,” I offered.
“Says Monica,” came the familiar voice as the door opened and our raven-haired leader appeared. We both goggled at the nurse’s uniform she wore, along with the high heels, which looked decidedly un-hospital-like.
“What’s this? E.R?” I asked. Monica grinned.
“Emergency Room? Might well be appropriate after I get through with my patient.”
“What horrible things are you going to do to me, Monica?” Jillian asked, sounding peeved, while something in her voice implied she really did not want to know. Monica put down the carryall bag she had lugged into the room.
“Oh, this and that, my dear. Enough to put on a show for the avid watchers out there in internet land. Is the camera ready, Steven?”
The big hired video unit with the anti-shake counter-weights leaned against the wall in a corner.
“Sure. And all the wires are hooked up to the box, just as you requested.”
Monica smiled at me and caressed Jill’s cheek in the manner of a predatory animal about to amuse herself with a helpless victim. Behind the mirror that was in fact one-way glass, I knew the other girls were watching our performance. On a small table in front of the mirror was the black box that my mate Douglas had built for me, this one with half a dozen outlets – better than we had originally hoped for. Predictably there were half a dozen wires plugged in and laid fan-like out across the floor. The ends had identical plugs, to which could be added any of a variety of devices sitting on the table.
“How are we going, Director?” Monica asked the mirror.
“The Citadel is on line, they’re just punching in their code now,” came Dianne’s voice over the intercom. I picked up the video camera draped the harness over my shoulders, before focussing on Monica. She turned her back momentarily then fronted the camera with a couple more buttons undone on the uniform, which now showed plenty of cleavage. Then she looked into the camera.
“Hello boys and girls,” she said brightly. “Today we’re going to play nurses and patients.” There was a barely audible groan from Jill, off camera, and I could imagine the sniggers in the Observation Room and at the Citadel. “We’ll be having fun with our friend Jillian. Let’s pretend she’s our big sister. What fun we can have.” I swung the camera to where Jill was standing, her arms raised in the cuffs. She rolled her eyes at Monica’s introduction.
“Jillian will be our little experiment, and I want you to help me with it,” Monica continued. You’ll be able to move those little slides on your computer screen to make Jillian feel all sorts of things once we connect the wires to her. And after that, we’ll have a special surprise for her.” Jill’s head was bowed and I could see a slight shake of the blonde hair as though she did not believe what she was hearing.
“But first we have to prepare our patient,” said Monica, delving into her carryall and pulling out a complicated head harness of black leather straps. The leather was soft and well-worn, and Monica pulled it into place over Jill’s head with the ease that comes from long practice. The centrepiece of the harness was an inflatable gag that was covered by a leather pad. Resignedly Jill accepted the rubber bladder into her mouth and made no sign other than a slight furrowing of her brow as Monica tightened the straps behind Jill’s neck, then completed the buckling under her chin and around her temples. Jill’s mouth was now completely covered by the black pad as Monica gave the pump bag a couple of squeezes. Jill made a sight noise of discomfort.
“I think our patient is slightly over-dressed for the occasion, don’t you, boys and girls?” Monica flipped the top of the boob tube down so that Jill’s breasts were exposed, then pulled the garment down over her skirt until it sat around her ankles. The nurse ran her fingers lightly over Jill’s breasts, the nipples of which were already erect. Monica gave a slight pinch to the right nipple which made the restrained girl wince. The skirt was the next item to be shed, dropping on top of the boob tube. Jill was naked now. Clearly the need for underwear had not been seen by her as a high priority nor likely to prevent whatever was coming her way.
“Mmmmm,” said Monica, running her fingers through the blonde triangle of fuzz at Jill ‘s crotch. “You can see why they call this the map of Tasmania, can’t you children. We’ll look at this a bit more in a minute. But first we have to make sure our patient can’t move around too much. Unfortunately we don’t have any anaesthetic, so we will have to do this the old fashioned way.”
I’m sure Jill would have preferred the anaesthetic, just as I was sure that ‘the old fashioned way’ was not quite what Monica had in mind as she unhooked the end of a thin steel cable from a cleat on the wall. The loose end had a D-clip on it, which Monica clipped through the D-ring on Jill’s right ankle cuff. Jill’s eyes traced the cable upward to the pulley screwed into the roof the same distance away as that over which her arm rope passed, and about a meter forward of it. I noticed there was a similar one positioned on her left side. I was glad I was not in Jill’s place at that moment, especially when Monica began to turn the hand winch bolted to the wall.
The thin cable tautened to the accompaniment of the rapid clicking of the ratchet, then Jill’s right foot was pulled off the ground, clear of the skirt and boob tube. Jill’s knee was bent at first, until she could no longer maintain that position, and found herself forced to hop momentarily, before her leg straightened with an abrupt jolt. Her foot was at waist level when she made a plaintive sound from behind the gag and Monica stopped the process. I figured that the two events were unconnected, for Monica ignored the complaint and busied herself with a second steel cable that she clipped to Jill’s left ankle cuff. Jill whined in protest.
“Oh shush,” said Monica, giving a couple more squeezes on the pump. Jill’s protests lessened as her cheeks bulged behind the straps either side of her nose and the pad over her mouth. Then Monica was cranking the handle of a second winch. Jill hopped briefly again, then gave way to the inevitable and was forced to let her weight hang on her arms and the leg already airborne.
Monica wasted no time in winching Jill’s legs up high, spreading them apart at the same time. Despite the distended bladder filling her mouth, Jill managed to make a muted nasal mewing of objection as Monica alternated between the two winches, gradually elevating Jill’s feet until they were level with her hands, slightly above head height. The spacing of the four anchor points in the roof meant her legs were pulled straight and wide, exposing her pussy and butthole in about as much detail as it was possible to accomplish, short of doing the splits totally.
It was a strict position, for the natural tendency was for Jill’s head to loll backwards, making it difficult to swallow, and it did not surprise me that Monica climbed on a small step ladder to tie a rope to Jill’s left wrist cuff, before feeding it down through a D-ring on the top of the head harness, then up to be attached to the right wrist cuff. I reckoned Jill was about as ‘comfortable’ as she was going to get. Her head was now elevated and supported sufficiently to be able to see between her legs, which was perhaps not a good thing. I considered Jill might not want to see the detail of what was to befall her.
“There,” said Monica to the camera, smoothing down her uniform in a quite provocative manner. “Our patient is ready for treatment. Remember children, you can do this in your basement with all that neat stuff that dad leaves lying around. Won’t big sister be surprised!” Monica walked over to the suspended girl and ran her fingers through the blonde thatch at Jill’s crotch.
“But before we can operate, we have to do a little tidying up down here. Tasmania will have to go.”
“Hnnnn?” said Jill.
“I can’t operate without being able to see what I’m doing, dear,” Monica told her airily, pulling on a pair of latex gloves and snapping them in place with great deliberation. “We’ll have to shave your nice little patch.”
“Nnnn!” Jill snorted, trying to struggle in her suspension, but succeeding only in swaying gently. “Nnnph!”
“Oh dear,” said Monica, half to herself. “Our patient seems quite adamant that she does not want to be shaved. I think I’ll need a little help with this. Unfortunately I don’t have an anaesthetist.” She looked archly into the camera. “Would you like to help me, boys and girls?”
Monica picked up two of the wires leading to the black box and chose two steel clips from a selection on the table. I had modified them all by soldering plugs on the ends so that they could be readily connected to the cables. This Monica did in front of Jill’s face, letting her see exactly what was happening. She had selected a pair of clover-leaf clips which she held up for Jill to see, the thin black wires now trailing ominously from their lower ends. Immediately below the plugs was a device the size of a cigarette, which was in fact a series of ten LED lights, each the size of a small shirt button.
“Let’s see if these work, shall we?” Monica asked, looking straight at the camera again. “Would the you like to push the slide bar for the outlet in my left hand?” Monica held the device by the wire so that it dangled from her rubber-covered fingers. It was a moment when I held my breath, wondering if the intricacies of the technological age were all going to come together. I also wondered who was going to be doing the manipulating at the Citadel end. Would it be Megan, or Debra? Or even one of the other staff?
Slowly, one of the red lights began to glow, then the second one next to it, then in quick succession the remainder lit up like a chain of red hot embers. Monica looked pleased.
“Very good!” she exclaimed. “Now let’s try the other one.” Like magic, the lights illuminated. “Aren’t they beautiful, Jillian?” asked Monica, waving them in front of Jill’s face. Jill’s brow furrowed beneath the leather straps and she made snorting noises that suggested rather the opposite. “Very good,” said Monica to the camera. “Now let’s turn them off.” Obediently the lights died.
I zoomed in on Jill’s nipples as Monica’s fingernails teased them gently and they became even harder than they were already, standing up like two solid little pink thimbles. Monica slowly released the clips on to them, positioning the clips and the light chains so that they were below the nipples. She tore off two pieces of duct tape and stuck the wires in place to the flesh over Jill’s ribs. Monica was nothing if not obsessively neat with her bondage.
“Now, boys and girls, I want you to keep a close watch on Jill. If she moves too much, you may persuade her with an appropriate little zap. All right?” For some reason Jill struggled at that moment and was rewarded for her troubles as five lights on each nipple glowed red for a couple of seconds. She made a muted mmmphing and her breathing suddenly became laboured as the glows ceased.
“Excellent. We have established contact with our viewers,” purred Monica. “I can even have a conversation with you,” she continued absently. “Left lights for ‘yes’, right lights for ‘no’… As we look at them, that is,” she added with a little laugh. “I’d hate to be doing the reverse of what you wanted through confusion over whose ‘left’ and whose ‘right’ we were referring to. Are we enjoying the fun so far?” The lights on Jill’s left breast glowed briefly and she gave a small snort of pain. “Terrific,” Monica said approvingly. “Think we should let her go now?” A glow on the right breast and a muffled whine.
Monica delved into her carry all and produced a pair of scissors. I couldn’t be sure whether Jill had taken her seriously up until that point, but there was no doubting Monica’s intention as she seized a handful of Jill’s pubic hair and snipped it off in one swift motion. Jill squeaked and tried to struggle but it was a waste of energy, even before the lights glowed red against her skin.
Monica ignored the muted pleas and a series of blonde clumps dropped to the floor, leaving a ragged stubble behind in the striking vee formed by Jill’s tautly stretched legs. Things got worse for the prisoner as Monica flourished a disposable razor and squirted a generous dollop of shaving cream on to Jill’s pussy, rubbing it in a way that was more than just designed to remove hair. Jill’s initial pleas turned to a resigned soft moan, then merged into a sound that might have been construed as rather more pleasurable.
Dollops of hairy foam followed the frizz to the floor, then Monica finally wiped the area clear as I zoomed in for a close up of the smooth silky flesh surrounding the pink lips. Monica peeled off her latex gloves and tossed them on the detritus on the floor before stepping across to the bag again.
Jill struggled again when she saw the flogger in Monica’s hand. She was making beseeching mewing sounds as Monica stepped back and let fly. The flogger had a bunch of thongs perhaps half a metre long. Monica set up a steady rhythm on Jill’s right inner thigh, down, across her gaping sex, then up her left thigh. She struck not hard but insistently, bringing a red blush to Jill’s velvety skin. As the thongs struck her pussy Jill could not help but jerk in her bonds. The lights taped to her ribs glowed in time to the falling strokes as Monica upped the force for a brief period before halting.
Monica was breathing heavily as she paused in front of the table to select the next stage of the torment. Jill’s legs were trembling when Monica returned trailing two more wires.
“You’re a tart, Jilly,” Monica said conversationally. “I know you like a bit of stimulation before the real thing.” She slipped two fingers into Jill’s pussy. “Aha! You’re wet as a bitch in heat!” Jill mmphed beneath the leather pad. “That’s easy for you to say,” Monica continued blithely, connecting a large lubricated butt plug on to the end of one wire and nuzzling Jill’s exposed back passage. She worked the plug remorselessly inside her helpless prisoner, heedless of the nasal objections and the jerking struggles. Jill let loose a stifled cry as the big invader slid home, her cry subsiding into a series of high pitched panting sounds as her body reluctantly accepted the intruder.
Jill’s breathing was still being interspersed with little moans when Monica began sliding a large ribbed vibrator into Jill’s pussy. Jill was sweating now, with little runnels of perspiration running down her legs to catch in the vee of her crotch, before sliding down her buttocks to drip on the floor. I suspected the liquid was far from just sweat, however, for with the motions that Monica was going through there was no doubt that Jill was highly aroused. It was evidently far too easy for Monica simply to install the vibrator in its appointed resting place. Instead, it almost went the distance several times, and Monica evidently felt obliged to ask the controllers in the Citadel for an engine check. The vibrator hummed into life as the red lights lit up the full scale, before subsiding back to a low buzz.
Jill was squirming as the device finally slid home, at which point she uttered a long sigh behind the gag. But Monica hadn’t finished yet. She buckled a belt around Jill’s waist and looped a thin chain through the belt at the back. She pulled the doubled-up chain between Jill’s buttocks, trapping the wire protruding from the butt plug, then repeated the process with the base of the vibrator protruding from Jill’s pussy before locking the loose ends to the belt buckle.
Her final act was to try out a new little device, made out of flat, clear plastic moulded into a gentle curve, roughly the size and shape of three bent fingers. The concave surface of the device had a number of electrodes, and this device, called a ‘cup’ was – like the others – equipped with a plug and a little chain of red lights. Monica held it in front of Jill.
“Guess where this one is going, my dear,” she said rhetorically.
Rhetoric or not, Jill shook her head as much as she could and made grunting noises of objection, which seemed to carry very little weight with her tormentor. Monica ignored her and, holding the lips of Jill’s pussy apart, insinuated the cup snugly against Jill’s clit. The blonde moaned resignedly. Monica turned to the camera again.
“Now it’s the time you’ve all been waiting for,” she announced. “Yes, its…Audience Participation Time!” With that she waved a hand at the helpless victim hanging there, and stepped back like a magician handing over to an assistant.
For perhaps fifteen minutes after that the red lights danced and flickered in what I came to realise was a very skilled display of ‘button pushing’ by somebody in the Citadel. Later I found out that Emma had gone there and had provided a little inside knowledge into Jill’s strengths and weaknesses. Suffice to say, that delicate manipulation of the vibrators in Jill’s front and back passages, counterpointed by the stimulation of her clit and nipples brought her close to orgasm a number of times, before the latter areas were buzzed painfully such that Jill was crying out into the gag strapped in her mouth.
As a variation on this, Monica would join in, lashing Jill with the flogger to subdue her desire to climax while those in the Citadel did their best to promote it. It was an astonishing competition, and I did my best to capture the rising intensity of the lights as the vibrations stirred Jill’s inner recesses, while the thongs smacked repeatedly on her breasts, buttocks and thighs. At one point Monica let loose a flurry of blows to Jill’s clit, over the top of the plastic cup already discharging in a series of red flashes. Jill went berserk, writhing in her bonds as much as she was able, but she could do nothing to shield her widely spread sex that made such a tempting target.
As a further diversion, Monica took the sixth wire and put a split plug on the end, that would send the impulses to two locations, albeit with identical effect. She added two short lengths of wire that ended in round sticky pads, and placed the first on the sole of Jill’s left foot. The coincidental momentary lapse in the vibrations and shocks elsewhere on her anatomy made Jill suddenly aware of what Monica was up to, and she tried to shake off the pad with a desperation that had not been there before.
“Nnnnn! Nnnn!” she cried into the gag trying to move her right foot out of Monica’s reach. It was hopeless, of course, for Monica seized it with enthusiasm and slapped the second pad in place, ignoring the gagged pleadings.
“There!” she said, rubbing her hands. “Go to it, kiddies…”
If Jill had struggled before, she went to new heights as the buzzings began on the soles of her feet, intermingled with all the activity that was going on over the rest of her body, not to mention in her internal passages.
Whether Monica finally got tired or whether she simply felt sorry for the hanging girl, she ceased the flogging abruptly and let the red lights do their thing. Jill’s eyes were closed as she struggled and squirmed in her suspension, howling mutedly into the gag and clenching her fists as the orgasm finally overwhelmed her in a welter of jerking sweaty movements. Her lean, athletic body bucked and stiffened, the muscles in her legs and arms standing out against the glistening skin as she uttered a last series of hoarse, high-pitched grunts that turned into a muffled drawn out scream.
With the climax done, Monica slid a rubber camping mat under the girl before gently letting down Jill’s legs. Jill could barely stand and wobbled about as Monica undid the rope attached to the head harness, then ran her hands over the sweat-drenched body, the skin red and striated and still decorated with the now dormant chains of lights. At least they were dormant until there was a sudden burst of light from the inserts inside her. Caught unawares Jill’s unsteady legs buckled and she sank down, her whole weight on her arms, her head hanging forward. An explosive grunt of capitulation, merging in to an exhausted sigh issued from her nose.
Monica looked at the camera again, a mischievous, conspiratorial smile on her face.
“That was very naughty, children.” She said, waggling a finger at her audience. There was another wink of light in Jill’s crotch and her body jerked convulsively, but she barely had the strength to raise her head with the next exhausted grunt.
When Monica let her prisoner’s arms down, Jill slid to her knees on the mat, making plaintive little grunts but not having the strength to lift her arms to undo the gag harness or even attempt to remove any of the attachments. Monica squatted down, her skirt riding up her thighs as she held the trembling figure while she released the pump valve and undid the harness buckle amidst the damp blonde hair. The harness dropped down and Monica prised the gag from Jill’s mouth. Jill gasped and sucked in air.
“Mon… please… take them off…they hurt so much…”
Monica made hushing noises as one would to a small child, cradling the exhausted girl and slowly easing the two clips off her pink and distended nipples. Jill sighed with relief and her head lolled on Monica’s breast.
“And that concludes our lesson for today,” said Monica.
* * *
The trial was concluded to be a great success, and Dianne was rewarded for her contribution to the technical side of things. This reward turned out to be spending a morning strapped in a rubber body bag suspended on bungy straps from a rafter on the back verandah. A wire protruded from the bottom of the bag and ran across the deck to a transformer plugged into a socket outlet. Dianne’s head was strapped into a leather disciple helmet which was locked there. Her arms were outside the bag but were totally ineffectual in securing any sort of release or relief from the insistent vibrations inside her.
She spent the morning of bouncing about and waving her arms and mmmphing into the gag under the helmet, while the rest of us looked over the final video and website product and contemplated our leap into the realms of worldwide cyber bondage auction.
It was at this meeting that Monica managed to embarrass me, not for the first time, but in a different manner from usual.
“And you will note the new page called ‘A History of Bilboes’, team. Perhaps it might be better called ‘A History of Bilboes After the Arrival of Steven’, but it doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. I believe our man here must have been an author in a past life, for the little snapshots he’s been giving me are going on a special page and make a lot of fun reading. I think there’s a definite story in the Hong Kong adventure, Steven, perhaps with names changed to protect the guilty? We don’t want to reopen past wounds. I wouldn’t be surprised if our friends in Macau have their internet spies.
“In the meantime, I commend to you the ‘History of Bilboes’, for those
of you who like to read a good story, never mind seeing your names in print.”
story continues in Monica's Games 1.7