Part 7: Homecoming
If someone does not come home soon, it’s not going to be good for me. Well, that’s not exactly true, but things will not go the way I want them to. And right now the only thing keeping me from my fate is my grip on this rather slender ridge in the floor. And my fingers are starting to ache. Ache really rather badly. And when they fail, there will be no going back.
It’s all my own fault really. I’d had a nice long leisurely shower and allowed my fingers to stray in a most diverting fashion which had left me all warm and bothered. And so I wandered down into my boyfriends workroom. A workroom where he designs the impossible for other bondage and BDSM enthusiasts. Machines that offered pleasure and pain in equal measure, machines that the self pleasure enthusiast could trust to offer them the pleasures they could not get elsewhere.
Our play room is right next door, and I admit that we usually test-drive everything before it goes out to the customer. Often several times if we like it. But of late my boyfriend had been very secretive about his latest commission, and curiosity as much as unrequited lust had bought me to his lair, and now I was paying the price.
Wrapped only in the short white bathrobe my boyfriend loves so much I stood before his latest creation. A long box like a crudely formed coffin with parallel sides, and from it’s front projected two long cables, each terminating in a steel manacle. I flicked on the only switch I could see on the box and waited. Nothing happened. I gave the box a petulant kick and walked away to look at another of his projects. A rather more interesting device that resembled a dalek with long whippy arms. A cunning set of electric eyes and motion detectors were built in to turn it into a slave hunting device capable of pursuing a slave around any open space until they came within range of it’s evil arms (Not to mention a cunningly concealed net hurling device), and then it was quite capable to restraining them and dragging them away to their fate. But it was still under development, and was a toy for another day. Little did I realise that part of it’s systems were far closer to completion that I knew and had already been installed in that long box.
As I stood before that robot the box came to life. Unbeknownst to me those innocent looking cables were actually hydraulic pipes, and at the bidding of a tiny electric eye they started to twitch their way across the room towards me, the metal clamps opening with a barely audible hiss.
The first I knew of my predicament was when one of those clamps snapped closed about my left ankle. I gave out a startled yelp, looking down dumbstruck as I watched a bladder inflate around my ankle to protect my flesh while still gripping me incredibly tightly.
That startled pause was all the time the second claw needed to snap closed about my other ankle. I pulled sharply at them, desperate to get free of their embrace and little knowing that my struggles were the very thing that activated their withdrawl into the box. One sharp pull and a simple brain reasoned that they had found their target and that the time was ripe to start reeling it in.
They started to pull at me, gently but incredibly firmly, dragging me towards a long box that now hummed and whirred in a most worrying way. I fought it wildly, going down on my knees and dragging at my legs with my arms to absolutely no avail. Somehow I found myself on my chest, my robe dragged off as I was dragged back across the floor until I was being hauled quite naked towards my fate. Until my hands found a grip on a ridge in the floor that housed electric cables. A ridge upon which I could finally get a grip, and there I still am.
The hydraulic arms are still pulling away at my ankles, firmly and very insistently. Not enough to cause me pain as they stretch me on my self-imposed rack, but enough to make my muscles ache and to make losing my grip a very real possibility, and then who knows what lurks in that box. Only my boyfriend and his customer.
“Mum, are you down here ?” It’s my daughter Emma, thank god. She will be able to switch it off and let me free. I called to her, and sure enough she appeared at the door. And the little bitch smiled as she saw me stretched out on the floor.
“For gods sake Emma, cut it off” I howled, my arms crying out as my muscles prepared to give up their fight.
“Not likely” she said, dancing across to a workbench and snatching up a whip “This I have to see”
A flurry of wicked blows rained down on my tightly stretched arse, and my hands darted involuntarily round to protect my upturned buttocks, and a fraction of a second later I was moving across the floor again, being pulled inexorably to my fate.
“You little bitch” I howled “Just you wait until I get hands on you”
She was still laughing as those hydraulic arms hauled my feet together and the doors on the front of that low cabinet swung open. Motors in the darkness whirled into life and I could see rollers start to whirl. Rollers covered with long, soft feathers.
“NNNNoooooo…..” I cried as the feathers found the souls of my unwilling feet and started to do their work, tickling every surface of my poor bare legs, and the further they dragged me in the worse it became. Further and further up legs they came until they reached the still glowing slopes of my so recently whipped arse and that tender space between my legs.
I was quite helpless at the terrible tickling, tears running down my face as those feathers worked over my hips, into my waist, then reached my breasts, my tenderest spot. When one found an erect nipple I came. Hard and loud amongst the tears and laughter.
And somewhere in the deep dark depths of that box there was still one terrible device yet to make it’s presence felt. As I felt my feet reach the very back of the box something touched the soles of my feet, something that felt very different from the feathers. For moment the feathers paused in their dreadful work, and I felt two harsh, prickly brushes go to work on my soles. Pressing hard against my oh so ticklish feet they brushed hard and fast, up and down, and moments later the feathers started again and I cast aside whatever little control I still had. I came again, and again, and again. My face was flushed a vivid red, tears run down my cheeks, sweat rolling off every surface as I surrendered to the wild feelings the machine was forcing upon me.
Emma was still watching as only my head and my outstretched arms still remained visible, her face flushed as part of her wished it was her in that box, surrendering her all to it’s sensations. But as she took an involuntary pace back she brushed against the hunter robot and I saw a light appear at it’s sensors and an arm move slightly. She was going to be plenty occupied soon enough.
story continues in My Daughter & I Part 8: On the Beach