The next morning, I woke up, and got up to the smell of breakfast. I didn't bother getting dressed (They'd both already seen all I had!), and headed downstairs. Master had already cooked up some bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Mistress bid me join them for breakfast. There were three seats. Master was sitting in one, Mistress in another, and the third had an enormous looking, pre-lubed butt-plug strapped down to the seat in just the right location. I got the hint. I carefully positioned my butt over the huge phallus. Master smiled, watching me. He passed the butter tray. "If you need anything more, help yourself."
As my butt was dry, I swiped a bit of butter on my finger, and started lubricating up my rear. I think that it amused them to see me with my finger up where the sun doesn't shine. I re-positioned my butt, and slowly started to bob up and down, impaling myself on the rubber penis. Both of them watched with amusement.
Master grinned at me. "I hope you're comfy like that. It's fitting that you're naked. You see, I was thinking of taking a trip today to Mexico. Get you somewhere remote, naked, handcuffed, and have you make your way back to the car. I hope you enjoy your hike, wondering if anyone's watching, wondering if I've moved the car. . ."
Breakfast passed normally - as normally as it could with a telephone pole up my butt that is. Once I was done, I was handed my chastity belt, the one with no holes; no keys of course. I put it on, humiliating myself by locking the rubber penis up my own butt. Both master and mistress watched my humiliation with pleasure. I was told to put on a dress, and sandals - nothing underneath. It sure didn't take long to get dressed.
First he drove downtown. We parked, got out, and walked for a few blocks. I had no idea where we were going, and knew better than to ask. We stopped just before a street corner. He took a tiny package out of his pocket, and opened it. He was in master-mode. “Turn sideways to me”. I complied. He stuffed something into my ear. It seemed to be like one of those foam hearing protection devices. I felt him smear something waxy on top of it. “Swimmer’s wax” he explained. “Turn around.” His voice sounded odd. I presented the other side to him, and he repeated the process.
I waited. Finally, I vaguely heard master tell me something – but I couldn’t make out the words. It wasn’t that I was misbehaving or ignoring him – I just couldn’t hear as well. I turned to face him – maybe I would get some other signal.
Master was now obviously speaking loudly and slowly so that I could understand. “Can you hear me now?” I nodded yes. “Good.” He replied. Just like that phone commercial. He continued, speaking loudly and clearly. “You are to go into the fetish shop around the corner. You are to get help, getting measured for corset that will enforce your posture as much as possible. If they have a trial model, try it on. Order something stringent and formidable. You are also to purchase whatever butt-plug the helper suggests, whatever dildo or vibrator the helper suggests, and a harness to hold them in. Be fore-warned, if I think you can handle them, you will wear them all day – it’s in your best interests to get very large ones. You are to ignore me while shopping. Go, wench.”
I felt scared, but entered “Pandora’s Box”. It was dimly lit, but you could see clear enough. I walked up to someone stocking the shelves. “Excuse me.”
They said something. Through the foam and wax, I couldn’t hear what they said! “I’m sorry. I’m having problems hearing. I had twin ear infections. Could you please speak loudly?”
“Sure!” She exaggerated nodded her head. “Can I help you!”
“Yes. I would like to be measured for a corset.”
“What kind of a corset would you like! Overbust! Underbust!”
“I would like an overbust corset – something that will enforce good posture.”
“OK! We are a distributor for a few different manufacturers. I’ll show you the design album! ”
She stepped away for a few moments. I glanced around the shop. The other six customers hurriedly looked away. Even at the other end of the shop, they heard every word clearer than I did!
She came back a minute later with a book covered in red satin. “Sit right here, and thumb through the pictures. The first half, we have off the shelf, the second are some of the custom orders that we have done. The first section seemed like well-made, but standard, corsets. It was one picture in the second section that really caught my eye. It was quite a tall corset – It was an overbust corset, coming high in the back, and having a built-in panty. It laced all the way down the back, and had wide-set shoulder straps – they started under the armpits, came over the shoulders, and met together at the top of the corset between the shoulder blades with some laces. These would keep the victim’s. . . I mean “wearer’s” shoulders set back.
I read the description. “This heavily boned rear-lacing corset is the most stringent that we offer. It has double-stitched seams, and is designed for the serious tightlacer in mind.. Options - Built-in panty, attached garters, shoulder braces, extra rear support and belt.”
I looked up from the book, and noticed that there was a guy or three checking me out. If I was a guy, I probably would be too! I caught the attention of the helper. “Excuse me. Under the options, I see the panty, garters, and shoulder braces, but what is the “extra rear support?” Are those additional stays?”
The helper smiled, and said something that I couldn’t make out.
“I’m sorry. With this stuff in my ears, I can’t hear too well. Can you repeat that?
“No – they are two flat metal bars, thicker than stays. They start at the waist, and go up to between your shoulder blades; when wearing the corset with them, you will not be able to bend over at all between the waist and the neck.
I liked the sound of that amount of posture control! “And who would put a belt onto a corset?”
She laughed, and explained things in loud, clearly pronounced words so that I could hear. “Well, the belt is a popular option – it is a chain belt that goes through a pocket between the corset and the inner lining. When locked shut, the corset cannot be loosened. For double the money, a chain can also be added to lock the top of the corset and shoulder braces where they were set for the day!”
“So this corset can be locked on?”
My eyes lit up – I had to get it! “Measure me please!”
The lady quickly got out a cloth tape measure, and put her hand on my waist, ready to measure. She felt my waist again. Oh my god! The chastity belt!
“You’re wearing a chastity belt!?”
“Yes. My master locked it on me this morning.”
She smiled. “And he sent you on this shopping trip! Gave you a task to make sure it would be found?”
I looked down. “Yes.”
She smiled a knowing grin and continued to measure. She seemed to have a bit of trouble with my bust-line – she measured it again and again. Same with the distance from waist, through crotch, and back to waist. I’m sure that everyone in the store got an eye-full.
“What options would you like!”
“May I please have all of the options?”
“Absolutely! It will be ready in about 1 month. Can I get anything else for you?”
I put my head down. “I would like to have a dildo and butt-plug please.”
She led me over to the wall where they were hanging, then turned to walk away.
I called out to her. “Miss? I’ve been instructed to let you pick them out for me.”
She laughed. “You don’t want me to do that – since I won’t have to wear them, I’ll pick out the most wicked ones that we offer.” She paused, and I still didn’t decline. “OK!” She said. “Have it your way!” She went to the end of a row, and picked up “The Horse Shocker.” I looked at it. It was a modest white plug, which would easily fit inside of me, but it a brown tail that would end down at my knees! The tail was about the same color as my hair. I looked closer. It also had a remote control for a shocker! “It was this or the ‘The Mammoth’. I like the thought of your master shocking your butt more.” She gave me a sweet “See what I do for you” kind of smile.
Oh god. It will fit, but Master will make me regret it if I don’t buy this one. “I’ll take it. And the dildo?”
She picked up a package. The dildo was hot pink, and had a detachable inflator bulb attached. I saw that it could also vibrate. She held it up teasingly. “I think you need this one! Do you want it! Tell me you want this one inside of you!”
“Yes. I really want to have that dildo buried inside of me, pumped as much as it will go, vibrating until I can’t stand it any more!” I’m sure every guy in the store got hard just watching me shop.
“Good!” She handed me the invader, and cashed me out – dildo, butt plug, and the order for the locking corset.
I went out to see Master. I looked around. He wasn’t there! Just then, he followed me out of the store, a wide grin on his face. “You did well Wench. Now on to your trials and tribulations across the border.” We quickly got in the car.
Fifteen minutes later, we were in line for Customs, going into Mexico. We went through without any incident, and were soon on a highway. We traveled for about an hour or two before we got off, and started winding through the local streets. I was nervous about my up-coming nudity trip. I quickly got lost – I couldn’t find my way back if my life depended on it. As we went through an intersection something made me look out of the side window - just in time to see the front of a gray sedan smashing into the side of our hood just in front of me! The car spun, and I blacked out.
I came to in a hospital. A nurse saw me awaken, and put me into a wheelchair. I was quite dazed, and only dressed in a light blue hospital gown. I was parked in a hallway for about half an hour. My right leg hurt like hell. I was scared to look at it. I didn't know my way around, and couldn't talk to people, so I didn't dare move. People passed me by. Some obviously looking down my gown at my breasts - I was seated, and the gown sure didn't cover very well. Eventually I was wheeled in to see the doctor. He had my x-rays back-lit on a screen. I was relieved - the x-rays caught only the tip of the chastity belt - it was not identifiable.
The doctor spoke some English, but he was clearly not fluent. "Your foot. Broken. Here and here.” pointing to two spots on my arch. "Your leg. Ah. . ." He pointed to my calf, as he mentally searched for the right word. I tried to help. "Calf? Muscle? Bruise? Ache?" By the expression on his face, I clearly didn't help, so he gave up. "Broken. Not bad. Goodly?"
He pointed to a picture on the wall. It showed a person with a cast on their ankle, ending mid-calf. "Foot. . ." He gave up again. "Yolanda's English are good."
I was wheeled into another room. I saw a lot of equipment around. I guess I was going to be casted for real this time!
Before I could take a look around, a doctor or male nurse came in, and started talking to me in Spanish. He was clearly not Yolanda. I was clueless what he said. "English?" I asked. He started jabbering something in Spanish, talking to the walls, the ceiling, clearly not to me. All I caught from the monologue was "Yolanda".
Just then Master poked his head in the room. My spirits immediately rose. He smiled, and then turned to the nurse. "Pedro!" he exclaimed. He followed it up with a monologue in Spanish, rolling it off as if he was born down here. For all I know, he was. The talk went back and forth for a few minutes. They obviously already knew each other, and Master could translate. He finally turned to me. "OK. Pedro is going to put a cast on your leg. I picked out hot pink fiberglass for you - I wanted something eye catching so that everyone can see you crutch around." He smiled.
Pedro took out a roll of white stocking, and cut off a length roughly sized it to fit my leg. Then it hit me. The chastity belt! It's still locked on! I squeezed master's hand to get his attention. "The chastity belt! And the tail! He's going to see them!" Master just smiled. "Yes Wench. Quite a good view I’d think." My jaw must have hit the floor. Master's grin stretched from ear to ear. He obviously relished getting a front seat for his wench's humiliation. Pedro had gotten the rest of the things ready. He rattled off something in Spanish to Master. Master smiled, and translated. "He wants you to take off the gown - it would get in the way." I cringed. "Yes Master."
I took off the flimsy gown, and Pedro's eyes immediately went to the metal entrapping my genitalia. He asked something of Master, the proud reply came back, and soon these two were talking and pointing to my belt, with me unable to understand what they were saying. Master knocked on it to show it was hard, and then had me roll onto my side so that he could show off the lock in back! Pedro said something in Spanish. Master replied in Spanish. Pedro laughed, and continued talking. By the tone of the conversation, it was getting raunchy, all at my expense!
After 10 minutes of this humiliation, the casting started, with comments still going back and forth between the two of them. The stocking was carefully rolled up my leg, with some excess still over my groin. Padding was wound around and around, ending at the top of my thigh. As Pedro got to the top, his hand "accidentally" brushed against the chastity belt more than was necessary. Master said something to Pedro, and then turned to me. "I told him to feel free to fondle and feel it - you sure won't!" Pedro tried snaking his fingers in to feel me, and was amused that he couldn't reach. He tugged a bit, and was amused again when the belt didn't budge. I was clearly a sex object. The rolls of fiberglass followed. True to his word, the fiberglass was hot pink - I thought it would be visible for miles. It started just before my toes, and kept climbing up my leg. As it went to my knee, there was some discussion about that - all in Spanish. My knee was bent almost to a sitting position and casted in place. When Pedro was done, the cast ended just an inch below the chastity belt.
After a bit more conversation, Pedro left. Less than a minute later, he came back with a pair of crutches - and a digital camera. Master explained - "He wants to take a few pictures. For purely medical reasons I assume." He grinned again. Some stranger was going to have pictures of me in a chastity belt! Pedro took about a dozen pictures, with Master translating Pedro's directions to turn. Some of the pictures were high enough to show my face! I'm sure it was beet red. I was then lifted into a wheelchair, and free to leave the hospital. “Master? I need to go to the bathroom!” Master led me to a single bathroom. He unlocked the belt, and stood by as I went. Immediately afterwards, the belt went right back on. I was just glad that no plug was added!
By this time, it was dark. Master pulled up in the car. I could see the huge dent in the passenger side, right where my leg was. Master physically lifted me from the chair into the car, putting me into the back seat. As we pulled away, I said "The doctor's English wasn't that good, but he gave me the impression that only a small cast was needed. I'm surprised that it goes all the way up to the top of my thigh!"
Master grinned again. "The doctor actually prescribed a short walking cast - toes to calf, with a heel to walk on. I told Pedro to cast all the way up - as high as he could get it. The bent knee was also my idea. So, every time that you need to reach for your crutches to get anywhere? Think of me. There's no medical need; I just wanted to see you that way. It amused me. And you're in this cast for eight weeks!"
I looked down at my poor foot. "Eight weeks! The break isn't that bad!"
Master smiled and held up the folder with the medical records. "The break isn't that bad, but controls on medical records down here are. According to these, your leg is so shattered; you would have had pins put in if we were in the States. You can thank Pedro later. For now? Take off all of your clothes, and hand them to me."
I quickly did so. Quickly being a relative term for trying to squirm out of a skirt in a backseat with a casted leg. I was now naked, supporting my breasts with my hands to avoid the painful bumps in the road. Master pulled a roll of duct tape out of the glove compartment, and tossed it back. "Here. Fashion a bra out of this, but don't cover the nipples - they amuse me."
I took the tape, and ran two strips from my left armpit, under my left breast, between my breasts, and ending in front of my right shoulder. I did the same to the other side. That seemed to stop the discomfort from all of the jostling.
At the next traffic light, Master turned back toward me to view the creation. He was clearly pleased at the sight. "Nice! Now take a strip, and wind it around the base of each breast. Tightly. As tight as you can manage. WENCH."
I ripped off a piece of tape that should make it around twice. As I was doing this, a car pulled up next to us at the light. The passenger's eyes nearly dropped out of his skull as he spotted me taping my bare breasts. Master was also watching me do this in the rear view mirror. The light changed, and Master went ahead. Luckily, the other car turned down the cross street. As he drove, I took the tape, and wound it around the base of my left breast. I felt very vulnerable. Considering how easily Master could torment me in my situation, I was sure not to disappoint him - I wound the tape around the breasts nice and tight. The pressure forced the breast to stick out from my chest even more. Master tossed the blacked-out sunglasses back to me. Without a word, I put them on as he turned onto a highway. For hours he drove toward the states, me totally nude and blinded in the backseat. OK, nude except for a chastity belt, and six strips of duct tape that presented my breasts more than hid them. As he drove along, I was never sure if cars going along side of us on the freeway were staring at my fetishistic body, or if it was too dark for them to see me. I did not know how long we drove like that, chatting about anything that came to mind. Half an hour? Two hours? I had no way of knowing. Eventually he said "Wench, you've done quite well. You may take off the glasses and get dressed - we are nearing customs."
Customs and the rest of the drive were uneventful. We pulled into his driveway, and he opened the door. I got out, and realized something - I was wearing a tight skirt that should go down to my ankles. In order to have one leg straight, and the other casted at a bent angle, I would have to bunch the skirt up at the knees. And take very small crutching hops. Bit by bit I minced toward the front door, and Master held it open. As soon as I crossed the threshold, Master ordered "OK Wench - no more need for clothes. Take them all off and go up to your bedroom."
I quickly complied, dumping all my clothing at the door, and crutching up the stairs. Master followed me up. He had me lay on my back, and tied my ankles to the bedposts, and put the leg brace that I wore to visit him onto my "good" leg. With that on, I couldn't bend either leg away from 60 degrees, and he had perfect access to my slot and butt. He propped me up into an almost seated position, stuffing pillows behind me, and manacled my hands to the headboard. He held up the in the inflatable gag, and I opened up like a good wench. He strapped it on, and pumped it up. He smiled and left the room.
Master returned a few minutes later. "I need to decorate your cast. Wench." He held up markers, and some printouts of pictures taken of me in very compromising conditions. Oh god! What was he going to do? That cast is on my leg for the next few weeks, all from his doing!
The first one was by my ankle. I couldn't tell what it was from this angle, so he explained. "It's a key." He paused for effect. "This is the rough location of the key to your chastity belt – you’re going to wear it home."
"MMMMPPPHHHH!!!" I exploded!
He calmly continued. "I have multiple keys. I might have mailed you one of them. It might be sitting in your mailbox when you return home. Or I might not have. You won't know until you return home, and by then, the decision will be long since made. If it’s not there, it’ll be 8 weeks locked in the belt for you!"
Master knelt between my legs, and started drawing. He detailed my inner thigh. First came the “slippery when wet” sign. The second was a label – “pull flaps apart to open”. The third read “Step 1: Insert Tab A into Slot B (above.)”
All I could do was cringe and whimper – My well-being, not only for the short term, but for the next 2 months, was clearly at his mercy.
He carefully unlocked the chastity belt, and set it aside, then he knelt down and started drawing. The first picture was of me - ball gagged, and with ropes going around my breasts. Master was a good artist - you could tell the picture was me. I started to whimper. Master took out a vibrator, and laid it on my pussy, on low. As I started to get hot and bothered, he took it away, and went to draw again - it was a portrait of me as I was now! Except he drew in nipple clips, with a string pulling them up to some unseen thing. This picture was going to be with me 24/7 for two months!
He then held up clamps like the picture showed, with a long string connecting them. After a bit of playing with my nipples, the clamps went on. They were awfully tight! I tried screaming into the gag, but once again, it came out more of a "mew". Master took another string, and tied it from the ceiling fan to the connecting string, tightening it, and pulling my nipples upwards. Then he turned the vibrator back on low, and went back to drawing - a close-up view of my chastity belt going on. Master was detailed - I could see the cast on my leg, and a dildo and butt-plug inside the CB. The butt-plug even had a pony tail pluming out from the butt.
Just as he finished, I heard Mistress Muff come home. "Slave! I'm home!" Master leaned the vibrator against me on low, then came running, turning on the ceiling fan as he left. The ceiling fan revved up. Every time that the one blade was on the close side of the fan, my nipples were fine. The blade would rotate, and by breasts would by pulled by the clamps! The watched in painful amazement as my breasts throbbed and pulsed at the speed of the fan. I heard the two of them downstairs, moving around. I couldn't make out a word of what they were saying. I tried thrusting against the vibrator. With my legs so securely immobilized, I barely moved. I wanted relief! My tits hurt, and I couldn't stop the tugging!
It seemed like hours until Mistress finally came upstairs, and turned the corner. She stopped, and looked at me, amused and mesmerized by my pulsing breasts, and me trying to push against a vibrating penis, all in vain. Finally, she started just laughing at my attempts to get off and keep my boobs intact. Then she turned the corner and walked away! She came back only about 30 seconds later, this time with a &%^$ camcorder! She was taping this monstrosity!
Time stood still as she filmed, zoomed, and panned, and I repeatedly thrust into the air. Finally, she turned off the fan and removed the vibrator, leaving me unsatisfied. She got out my chastity belt, and locked it around my waist, then took a step back.
I was quite exhausted, and laid there for quite a few minutes catching my breath. When I finally did, Master was un-doing my fake knee brace, and un-tied me and my boobs from the bed and fan. The clamps stayed on, but with a LOT less pinch. The strings were left dangling off of them. He handed me the crutches, and said “The gag stays in, or you will be quite punished. Give one mew for ‘Yes, Master’, no mews for ‘No, Master.’”
I mewed once. With the inflated gag in my mouth, I sure couldn’t talk.
“Follow me. Mistress wants to show you something.” He led me down the stairs, to where Mistress was sitting in front of the computer. They sat me down on a rolling office chair where I could see the screen, which was presently blank. Master took one of my wrists, and put a fur-lined manacle around it, doing the same for the other one. I didn’t say a word.
Master went behind me, and held my wrists up to the opposite elbow – behind the seat back. Mistress turned to me and smiled. She sure knew something, and was reveling in it. She showed me two sections of string, still clamped to my nipples. I knew this could only end badly for me. Still wearing that sweet, innocent smile, she started pulling on the strings.
I “Mmpphh”ed behind the gag, but didn’t squirm too much.
She led the string from the right nipple over the right shoulder, and tied it to the left wrist. I knew I would have to hold my wrist up there, otherwise my nipple would bear the weight. She repeated the same on the other side. I realized that even though my legs were free, I was bound – with the cast and no free arms, I was effectively hobbled.
Mistress said “I just wanted to show you some highlights so far.”, and turned on the screen.
Oh my god! Covering the screen was a picture of me with a pink dildo coming out of my mouth! They added my name and phone number to the bottom of the picture!
“MMMPPPHHH!!!!!” I screamed! In my fright from them posting this to the net, I put my hands down to get up from the chair, yanking my poor nipples!
“MMMPPHH!!” That one was surprise and pain! Just as I did so, another flash went off. Master had another picture – this one of me yanking my own boobs! I sat back down with a pathetic whimpering. I was truly at their mercy. I had to do whatever they wanted – posting that picture could make my life truly difficult.
Mistress hit a button, and the screen shot changed to one of me at the mall. Collared, in an outfit that made me look like a slut with boobs poking out that a prostitute would be proud of! Oh my god! At the bottom of this embarrassing shot was “write me – [email protected], and my mailing address too!
Mistress started up an e-mail, and attached the two pictures. And about half a dozen more. I was getting nervous. She then went to the address field, and put in a newsgroup. And another. And another. And some webmaster. And a second webmaster. Right before my eyes I was watching my life being turned around! All I could do was let out a pathetic whimper. Mistress turned to me and smiled. “Are you going to be a willing Wench?”
I sure wasn’t going to say “No” at this point! I enthusiastically nodded “Yes!”
“Good.” She turned to Master. “Take her away.”
Master turned the chair around, and rolled it out of the room. As the chair went over the seam from one room to another, there was a bit of a bounce. My wrists came down, yanking my poor nipples up! “MMPPHHH!”
Master left me in the hallway to the dining room, and went upstairs. As he left, I realized that I never saw what happened to that awfully incriminating e-mail. Was it sent?
Master came back with the camcorder. Mistress followed holding some dildos and a few other objects. Master un-did my bonds behind me, releasing my hands, un-doing the gag, and finally taking off the nipple clamps. Yow! I rubbed my breasts and nipples, trying to ease the pain a bit to get blood flowing normally again. Mistress stood in front of me and told me what was going to happen. “I’m so glad you decided to participate. I noticed that all of the pictures that we have so far are other people doing things to you. We wanted a video of something different – selfbondage. Don’t worry. He’ll be the cameraman, and I will be directing this flick – telling you everything to do.”
I didn’t want to mention it, but having Mistress tell me everything to do DID get me worrying!
So I started out naked (except for the humiliating cast). “Stand up” She said. Stand up I did. Mistress pulled the chair to the side, and set her objects onto it – two long lifelike dildos, the nipple clamps and a long connecting chain, a cable with a loop at each end, the manacles, and two small padlocks. The only thing that surprised me is that the padlocks still had their keys! She talked. I did.
“Pick up the dildo. Kiss the tip lovingly. Run your tongue over the tip. Kiss it again. OK. Lube it up. No! Grip it firmly, then pump it up and down to lube it! Look at it lovingly – eagerly. That’s good. Now slide it into your front. A bit at a time. In and out. In and out. Look at the camera. Like you’re enjoying it!”
My thoughts were racing to follow Mistress’ orders. Oh my god! I was being a bondage slut for the camera! All of this on tape!
Mistress’ orders continued. “OK. Now in as far as you can get it.” There was still a good 3” sticking out – I’m sure it would be quite visible that I had a dildo buried deep within me.
She continued with her commands, and I continued with absolute compliance. I knew the “or else”. “Now the other dildo. Kiss the tip. Good. Again. Now the licking. Lovingly and longingly. Now the lube. Pump it. Pump it. Good. And into your butt. Set it on the edge of the chair. And sit on it. Slowly. Up and down. Up and down. Give me a sigh of enjoyment! Good. Up and down. Lower. Keep going. Next sigh when it’s fully in. . . Good. Now stand again.”
I hopped up, supporting myself on the chair. It wasn’t easy! One leg couldn’t touch the ground due to the cast, and the dildo and butt-plug sticking out sure didn’t help my balance!
“Now the nipple clamps. Roll your nipples. And a flick. Roll some more. Get them hard. Good. When you put them on, give me a good yipe!”
I put them on. The “yipe” wasn’t even acting! My poor abused nipples hurt!
“Good. Lock the cable to the connecting chain. Give it a stiff sample tug. Harder. You’re going to do this again until you pull hard enough wench! OK. Now toss the chain and cable over your head. No! Such that the chain goes from one nipple, behind your neck, then to the other. Like that. Good.”
The cable was now dangling down my back, ending just past the huge penis she had me stuff up my rear. Mistress continued to tell me exactly how to humiliate myself like a slut in training for the future viewing pleasure of who knows who. “Now put on the manacles, but don’t lock them shut. Get the last lock and the keys. Reach between your legs and grab the cable with one hand. Use the other to work out the slack.”
It took me a moment to realize what she meant by “slack”. My boobs were at a normal hanging position. I carefully lifted them upward with one hand, pulling on the cable with the other. There was a long way to go before I could connect the manacles to the cable! I pulled more, and realized another source of so-called “slack” – the cable went over the large bases of the butt-plug and dildo that stuck out obscenely from my groin. The further in these went, the more cable I would have. I pushed them in as much as I could take, and pulled the cable. I was still a bit short.
“Come on Wench! Be done with it already!” Mistress was SO helpful at times. Master was only helping by videotaping my discomfort.
With one pull, I arched my back as much as I could, and yanked on the cable. I made it! My groin ached like never before like they were being rammed with giant penises, and I felt like my nipples were being yanked! Then again, I was being rammed by giant penises, and my nipples actually were being yanked! I stretched my hands down as much as I could, and quickly put the lock between the cable and connected both manacles to it, clicking it shut before I could change my mind. I was SO glad they provided me with the key. Any moment, and I’ll be able to self-unbondage.
“OK. Now you’ll only get one shot at this. Fling the keys down the hall as far as you can.”
I turned my head to face her disbelievingly. Her face said she wasn’t kidding. I quickly remembered the pictures, and the keys went skittering down the hall.
Master handed the camcorder to Mistress, then moved behind me. I didn’t bother turning around; I probably didn’t want to know what horror they had in mind. “Now you can go get them, Wench.”
I stood there dumbfounded for a second. I was doing my best to balance on one foot, the other being casted into a bend so that I couldn’t touch it to the floor. My hands were unavailable for balance, and my entire body was tied into a bow with my poor abused nipples getting it if I tried to move! One look into Mistress’ eyes, and I knew that despite my trepidations, I had to give it a try.
I felt Master’s hands hold my hips to steady me. He was keeping his head low for some reason. Then I got it – Mistress was only filming from the belly button up – Master would be out of the picture. I gave it a hop – only about a foot or so. As I came down, YOW! I just couldn’t take the sudden pain, and collapsed into Master’s arms, who gently set me down on the floor. Another few seconds later, my nipples again burst into throbbing pain as Master took off the clamps. A few seconds later, my hands were unlocked, and I was gently rubbing my breasts to ease the discomfort.
Mistress told me “You failed Wench. Tomorrow you will be punished. For now, it’s time for bed.”
Master came up to me with the straitjacket I wore when first in the house. It was comfortable bondage! I willingly and eagerly held out my arms so it could be put on. Master put it on me, fastening my arms in front of me. Mistress looked over his work, tightening a buckle or two. I was led up to my room, still without a door, and I gratefully hopped into bed. Master fastened ankle cuffs around my ankles, and spread them wide. Despite knowing that I was showing off the crotch strap to whoever wandered by, I was asleep within minutes – it had been a long day.
I woke up when I tried to sleepily roll over, and found out that I couldn’t. All the events of the weekend came flooding back. I looked for a clock or some method of telling the time. I found out that it was somewhat past dawn. 6AM? Five? Maybe seven? Moving through the time zone, mixed with the shades made me quite uncertain. I laid there, legs spread wide, until Master and Mistress arrived. Master already had the camcorder going.
Mistress knelt down at the foot of the bed, and held up one finger. I didn’t get it. The finger slowly moved toward the bottom of my foot. Oh my god! I’m ticklish there! The finger lightly touched the bottom of my foot, and I tried to yank away – to no avail. I was as fearful of that one finger as if she was trying to cut my toes off! The dreaded finger lightly moved down my foot, and I the giggles started. Within seconds I was a mass of hysterics, thrashing about in the straitjacket, legs splayed wide for the world, and the camera. I felt tickling beginning on the other foot as well! I was laughing so hard that I found it difficult to breathe! I struggled as best as I could to get free, but the straitjacket was designed to keep women much stronger than me locked in – I didn’t have a prayer of getting out. When Mistress decided she was done, she nodded to Master. He started to un-do my bonds as Mistress started talking.
“Well Wench, we enjoyed your trip. I hope you did too. I think that we have time to go out to breakfast before your flight – you know how little they feed you on the planes these days. Go ahead and use the bathroom.”
I got up, absolutely naked, and crutched into the bathroom. Somehow, this felt normal.
When I got back, all my things were packed, and ready to go. I even had one of my outfits laid out on the bed – a patterned top, an off-white skirt, pantyhose, flat shoes, bra, and . . . chastity belt. Except for the panties being metal, things were totally mundane. Mistress smiled and handed me the shocking butt-plug they had me buy from Pandora’s Box, and some KY. Master took pictures as I lubed up the plug, slid it in, and locked the belt over it, tail dangling down between my legs. I finished getting dressed. Mistress pulled out a remote control. “Now let’s test this thing.” She hit a button and an electric shock in my butt made me leap off the bed, landing in a disheveled heap on the floor.
“Ooohh. I like it.” Mistress cooed. “That was at setting 2 of 5. She looked at her watch. In 30 seconds, if you still have it in, you’re going to get a setting 3 shock.”
I took the clue. I tugged at the belt. No chance there – it was securely locked on. I had a little bit of play in the cable going up my butt. Maybe if I squirm, I could get the plug out? I leaned on the bed, and bent over, pulling and playing with it to get it out. I wasn’t close – the base was too big! I tried another position. I pulled and YOW!!!! The lightning in my butt made me leap, landing on the bed before sliding to the floor.
I crawled over to Mistress. “Please Mistress Muff. Please don’t shock me again. Please! I’ll behave! I’ll be a good wench! Just don’t shock me again!” I was terrified of what a four or five would do!
Mistress smiled. “We’ll just see if you’ll behave.” She clipped a small microphone to the top of my leg cast, tucking the attached radio box it inside. She then gave me an earplug – the same kind used by the secret service at a guess. The radio box had a strap that goes around the neck, decorative to look like a common velvet choker. I put it on. Mistress said “Now arrange your hair to cover the earplug and box! I don’t want anyone seeing how much of a slut you are!” I dutifully crutched to a mirror and complied. My long hair made it easy.
We went out to an IHOP for pancakes. The place was packed. We were finally seated, and as soon as the menus came, Mistress ordered for the table. When the waitress left, Mistress handed me her purse. “Well, I know you need to freshen up. Go ahead.” I took the clue, picked up the obligatory crutches, and crutched toward the ladies room. The earplug in my ear came to life. “If you can hear this, let out a loud sigh.” I did so, and the message from Mistress Muff continued. “Good! It’s time for your punishment for failing yesterday. Failure today will bring swift retribution.” A small shock in my butt made me jump a bit, more from surprise than pain. She sure drove home her point. “When you get there, you will go into a stall, and take off your bra, putting it into the purse.”
I hobbled into the handicapped stall. I was glad it was vacant for the extra room my crutches would take. As I was taking off the bra, the voice in my ear said “If there is anyone else in the room, bounce your crutches on the stall wall.” There were two other ladies there, so I did so.
“Good. If they are near the sinks, bounce them again.” Nope – they were in stalls, chatting about something that happened the previous week.
“OK. When you are done, you are to hold your blouse in your hand, and crutch topless to the vanity and sinks.”
I took off my bra, and opened the purse. It only held one item – a large roll of duct tape. I had an awfully good idea what was coming. Grimacing, I put the bra under the roll of tape, and crutched out to the far corner of the vanity. Hopefully the other women would be too immersed in their conversation to pay any attention to me.”
“Take out the tape. First make an X over the first nipple.” I started to peel the tape, and heard the ominous “RRRrrrriiiippp!” that the tape makes coming off the roll, echoing through the tiled bathroom. There was no way I could do this inconspicuously unless they were both deaf. The conversation suddenly went silent.
I quickly made an X over my right nipple. “Now start at the base, and wrap the tape around it. Make it snug, but not tight. After the first pass, spiral your way to the tip.” I started taping, cringing when the sound of the tape echoed off the walls as I let more off the roll. The first wrap was quite snug. I started the spiral. Mistress commanded “Keep it snug Wench!”
The conversation in the stalls turned into a hushed whisper. “What is that? Tape?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m going to check it out.” One of the toilets flushed.
A woman in her 30’s came out of the stall just as I finished the X on my other boob. She was trying not to be noticed staring at what I was doing in the mirror. She failed miserably – it was obvious. Mistress’ voice came through loud and clear “Talk to whoever you can Wench.”
I stammered. “I. . . um. . . lost a bet.”
The other woman kind of laughed. “A bet?”
“Yeah. I bet that my injury. . . “ I pointed down “Would only need to be taped or bandaged. Seems like I lost.” I shrugged a “what am I to do?” kind of shrug. “A duct tape jock strap would have been quite amusing to see on him.”
Mistress chimed in through the private channel “Get her involved hands-on.”
I turned and started taping the other breast, snug at the base. As I started to wind toward the tip, I commented “I’m just not sure how to give myself some support. The normal bra strap arrangement won’t hold.“
The other woman was obviously looking at my boobs, trying to think of a way. The other toilet flushed, and the woman came out – a woman in her mid-20’s, looking dressed up for something. She also looked at what I was doing, then to her friend’s intent gaze at my boobs, then back. I clued her in as I finished the taping, and was ripping off the rest of the roll. “I lost a bet, so now I need to wear a duct tape bra. I need a bit more support than this though – the tape lifts them up and out.”
“I guess you could try building yourself a shelf.” The young lady suggested.
Two women staring at my taped boobs. If they only knew what was on my cast! “You mean support it from below?”
“No.” She picked up the tape. “Lift ‘em where you want ‘em.” I picked them up so they sat straight out. She taped under my right boob, up under my armpit and wrapped over my left shoulder, down between the boobs, under the right boob again, and repeated the wrap. It was like my breast was hanging in a sling. It was surprisingly comfortable! “Thanks! This gives a lot of support!” She repeated the process for the left side as well. Before I knew it, I had a big gray X across my chest for the support. She checked out her handiwork. “Try moving around a bit. Is it comfortable?”
I picked up my crutches, and crutched across the room a few times. I felt the snugness caused by the tape limiting the expansion of my chest as I breathed. I was surprised at how much the tape connected my shoulder to my breast. If I moved a shoulder, the boob moved up and down right along with it. It sure seemed to increase the movement they had. I had good support, but they bounced up a bit when I landed.
I gave my feedback. “It’s pretty good, but my boobs bounce a bit on the landings.”
“OK. I think I can fix that.” One of them picked up the roll of tape and they gave me an additional wrap from the left side, bottom of the ribcage, over the left breast, and down between. Another stretched from the right side, over the right breast, and down between. Just then the voice in my ear perked up from Mistress. “Get their signatures, or you will get a zap right in the middle of the restaurant.”
Oh god! That would sure make me scream, then fall down, causing quite a scene! People would see the duct tape bra, my chastity belt, even the unique pictures on my cast! I had to get it signed!
I tried crutching again. “You know, this tape gives even better support than my best bra – I think we have a winner! Would you like to sign your work?”
The ladies laughed, but stood still. I got even more nervous than I had been in quite a hurry, but tried to play it as cool as I could be under all this tape and fiberglass. “After all that work, you might as well have fun with what you got!”
They laughed again at my expense. To my relief, one of them relented. “What the heck. I have a marker in my purse.” One of them started writing across the top of my boobs. When she was done, I looked down, and read it back for the amusement of my listening audience in the other room. “Breasts courtesy of Home Depot”. Both of them laughed. I heard laughing coming over my speaker too.
“OK. My turn. Turn around.” I hopped around on my crutches, and the other woman wrote something between my shoulder blades. She pointed, and both of the women laughed.
“What does it say?”
“Oh, nothing.” They laughed again. “I sure don’t envy you taking that off tonight though!” Shaking their heads, they left.
I put on my blouse. The taping sure made my boobs prominent – the blouse was stretched over them! I crutched back to the table, thankful that there was no zapping to be suffered through.
As soon as I neared the table, Master saw me and started to laugh. He nodded in my direction to Mistress. She turned to look, and also burst into laughter. If they were both unable to contain their mirth, there must be something going on. I crutched back nervously, and sat down. I didn’t want to go above my station to ask what was so amusing – if they wanted to tell me, they would.
Mistress finally let it on. “Your duct-tape bra is quite visible through the blouse. It seems your helpers did a wonderfully thorough job.” I looked down. Oh my god – they were right! I sat down at the table.
Only a few minutes later, the waiter came by with our food. He served Master first (not knowing). Next was me – he clearly had no idea of our pecking order. Little did he know that he just lost a lot of tip. He put the plate of pancakes in front of me, and did a double take as he clearly saw the duct tape bra. Everyone caught him staring at my taped boobs, and he knew it.
“Um. . . You did order the banana nut pancakes, right?” He stammered.
Mistress cut in, and leaned over to poke at my pancakes with her knife. “Yes, I think so. But are those the banana nuts, or the poppy seed?”
The waiter was glad for an excuse to stare some more. “Oh, those are the banana nut. You can see the nuts.”
After a few seconds of awkward silence, he went back toward the kitchen.
We started eating, and I noticed that all the male waiters kept coming by and asking if we wanted water, asking to see how we were doing, and apparently any other excuse to come by to take a look. That guy must have told every guy working in the place! I ate as quickly as I could, hoping to get out of the IHOP. Mistress was apparently planning to enjoy a slow, relaxed meal. Considering that she was holding the controller to the zapper locked up my butt, I sure didn’t mutter a word! Master seemed to be having some difficulty. He kept looking at me, and his eyes glazed over. After that, he seemed awfully uncomfortable in his seat. I figured it was something to do with his penis and the cage locked on it, but I dared not ask.
Finally, we left the IHOP. Master turned to me. “I think it’s quite ironic that we went here. I HOP. No – you hop. I can walk. Wench.”
I groaned. Partially due to the bad joke, partially because it was true, and he wanted it that way.
I was grateful when we arrived home. Mistress led me over to a padded sawhorse-like contraption. She directed me to lay over it. As I leaned over it, I saw that it was clearly designed for the purpose – it was a padded bench, about a foot wide, narrowing to about 2” at one point before flaring out into a cross-member about 5’ wide. There were a few straps along the length of the bench and cross-beam. I could tell exactly where my breasts would be – all accessible if it wasn’t for the duct tape. At the top of the bench was an opening for my head, with two metal bars running along the side to support a pad for my forehead. A strap was there to make sure I didn’t move.
I laid down, and put my arms out wide. Less than a minute later, there were straps over my torso, and up the length of my arms. Padded blocks were put on each side of my head, like those used in car crashes, and everything was strapped down. I realized that my butt was sticking out toward Mistress obscenely.
Mistress spread my legs, and strapped them to the bench legs, holding my legs wide open. Gratefully, she then pulled out the chastity belt key, and unlocked the belt. Just as I was thinking that I couldn’t see a thing, Master put a mirror on the floor under my head. It was laying flat – I couldn’t see anything happening near my crotch. What was the point of it?
I heard mistress asking herself “Should I do one more large shock, just for the fun of it?”
I didn’t know if it was a rhetorical question, but I felt I should give my opinion and wise advice none the less. I strugged to get out – to no avail. I pleaded “Please Mistress. Please don’t. I’ve been good. Please don’t shock me! I’ll do anything!”
Master looked me in the face through the mirror “Oh? Exactly what is it that you’ll do trussed up like this?
“I’ll. . . I’ll” I stammered.
He continued. “You can’t do much at all! And if we were to release you, you’d do as you’re told anyway.”
I realized this was true – it was awfully hard to bargain when you don’t have anything to trade. Master disappeared out of my limited field of vision.
After a minute, I felt the butt shocker slowly slorping out of my butt. And back in. And then fully out. I was gracious for Mistress’ kindness.
Master appeared in my field of vision, videotaping my face through the mirror. I heard Mistress’ voice pondering. “Now with a wench all properly tied up like this, whatever shall we do with her. . . “
She stood such that I could see her face in the mirror on the floor, looking down on her helpless prisoner. She was smiling that “I already know what I’m going to do, but just want to make you wonder” smile. It made me feel so much at their mercy, and so excited at the same time.
Mistress took a step forward. What? There was a pink dick and. . . She was wearing a strap on! Now I could see what she was going to do! My jaw dropped. My poor butt was about to have something else filling it! The phallus seemed to be a semi-soft one – if it hit something at the end, it would expand outward, like a balloon filled with a very thick gel.
Mistress explained. “It’s double-ended. I know I’m going to enjoy this. Best part about having a wench – it doesn’t matter if you like it or not!” She went around to my butt, still propped up in the air. I tried to relax as much as I could. I felt the tip at my crack, slowly easing its way in. Then a little out, and more in, a little out. Each time, I felt more and more stretched. She seemed to be starting slowly and carefully – except for choosing what felt like a tree trunk to fill my butt with! It sure didn’t look that large! I grunted as it went in – my facial expressions all captured on tape.
Oh god it felt huge! I thought that I couldn’t take anymore. I had visions of the anal invader going right through me and coming out my mouth. Just when I was about to scream out, I felt Mistress’ groin slap against my butt, and Mistress moaned in pleasure. It went slowly in, then slowly out. Then it picked up the pace a little bit. I felt used, just like a *^&% sex toy! My butt was being stretched just so that Mistress could get off! I really was such a Wench!
As Mistress fell into a slow grind, which telling by her moans felt really good on her end, Master put a long canvas strap across my back. Was I not bound well enough to this horse? I could barely move already, or I very well may have! He draped each end of the strap in front of my shoulders, over the top, and gave the loose ends to Mistress. I felt a tug downward on the strap and Mistress ramming it home. I let out a surprised groan. With the additional grip, she sure could stick that in deep! She slowly let it out, then rammed it back. There was nothing that I could do to change the tempo, depth, or anything. I was like a mattress pad for my Mistress’ pleasure, and Master’s video archives.
She went in and out, bump and grind for who knows how long. All I could see was the mirror on the floor, seeing my own face grimacing from the stretch, and sometimes Master’s video camera peering down to capture the moment. The tempo picked up again. Mistress yanked as hard as she could on my reins, forcing me down as much as I could to meet her. She started to shake like a vibrator, tensed, and finally relaxed with a sigh of pleasure. My humiliation as a mattress pad seemed to be over. She slowly eased out.
Master wrapped my chastity belt around my waist, and pulled the butt-cable into place and smiling at me, he closed the crotch piece shut. Just as I heard the "click" it struck me - I need to catch a flight! It was time to leave! As Mistress untied me, it seemed kind of odd not having a rubber phallus stuffed in there, like an empty feeling. I packed in a hurry. I asked about getting the chastity belt off for the trip, to avoid the metal detectors and so forth. I got grins like Cheshire cats in response. My jaw dropped. It was going to be found! I tugged again at the belt - there was no way it was coming off! Oh god. . .
We drove to the airport, pulling up to the departures drop off. Master handed me the tickets. I hopped out of the car, and went to grab the crutches.
Master asked me "So why do you need crutches?"
"Because it pleases you master."
He smiled. "For the next 8 weeks. And I MIGHT have mailed you spare keys. I might NOT have. You never know."
He got out and pulled out my bag. As an attendant came over, Master explained "I took the liberty of changing your reservation. You now have a stop-over in Denver, and then switch onto an American Airlines flight. It cost only twenty dollars more, and now you'll have to pick up your bags, and check in again."
I didn't understand why anyone would possibly do that!
He continued. "And go through airport security. Again. With your locked belt, and pretty pictures all over your leg. I hope the inspectors enjoy checking out your duct tape bra! Do you know what’s written on the back?
I meekly turned my head “no”.
They both smiled. “That makes it all the better!”
Enjoy your trip! And who knows – I might just be taking pictures!” He held up the camera.
The camera reminded me – did Mistress post those pictures with my name and phone number all over the net, or was she kidding? There’s millions of sites – I may never know!
Mortified, I hobbled into the airport to meet my fate.