lunes, 14 de abril de 2008

Exit to Eden

Fue uno de mis primeros libros con tintes BDSM y me encantó.
La película, por otro lado, fue demasiado comercial.
Sin embargo, tiene escenas difíciles de olvidar.

lunes, 7 de abril de 2008

Back Bay

by edwardo

Part 1

Shelly was a little old to be a freshman. Her parents were footing the bills for everything, and she had been to school before, but she had been bored (all three times) and had flunked out each time without completing a single course.
So, here she was at B.U., living in the freshman high-rise. Daddy had given her an ultimatum. This was the very last college her folks would pay for, and she would make it here, or they would cut her off.
She was pissed off about being forced to live in the dorms, with a dorky roommate from the mid-west, no less. But Boston was a great town, and she was sure that there would be enough parties and places to hang out to keep her entertained.
The guys from B.U. were another story. Stupid jocks, wimps, preppy types coming out of the woodwork! She tried some of the parties at other schools. She even met some grad students who were okay, except most of them wanted to study all the time.
Shelly finally realized that she wasn’t going to meet anyone really great in the college scene, so she started hanging out at some of the yuppy bars around town. At one place, she met a guy who bought her a few drinks, and tried really hard to make her. He was good looking, but his line was boring, the same old tired jokes, the same talk about how far he was going in his job, while he stared at her tits (not that she didn’t have great tits!) He wanted her number, but she wasn’t giving it to him.
He told her about a party that weekend, a private party being thrown for a friend of his. It was being held at one of the clubs, and if she wanted to go, he would meet her there and get her in. Shelly didn’t particularly want to hang out with this guy, but she did like parties. She agreed to meet him.
The party on Friday night was held at a little club down by the harbor. She had never been there before, and the place had a great view. This was some party. No expense had been spared: live music from a really hot blues band, champagne, there was even a back room with free-flowing coke and grass. It didn’t take long for Shelly to lose her date and start circulating. There were some great-looking guys here, and from the look of their clothing and grooming, they had money.
Shelly had really outdone herself getting ready tonight. She’d had her hair done that afternoon, and her dark hair and pale skin were really set off by the wine- red minidress she’d bought downtown. It was very low-cut, and she had decided to keep her jewelry to a minimum, settling for a small gold pin at the base of her cleavage, and a pair of simple large hoop earrings. Deep red lipstick and nail polish completed her look. She never felt that she needed eye make-up, her eyes were so large and brown. The dress was perfect, and showed off the figure that she spent so many hours (and so many of Daddy’s bucks) developing. Her breasts looked like they might burst out at any minute. Her long legs flowed from the hemline which stopped a full ten inches above her knees. She realized that when she sat, you could see the tops of her black stockings, and the garters to which they were attached. That didn’t bother her a bit. She liked to tease.
She spent most of the evening dancing and flirting, and getting a little high on the free grass. But she didn’t really find anyone she was attracted to. There wasn’t any chemistry. She was getting a little tired, but not yet ready to go back to her dorm. She took an empty seat at the bar.
That was when she noticed him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man sitting at the far end of the bar. She looked over at him, and he really didn’t look like anything special. But he was looking right at her, no, he was looking through her. His look fascinated and offended her. She’d had plenty of guys undress her with their eyes. This guy’s gaze actually made her feel...naked.
Now he was getting up, walking towards her. She felt she should get away, but she just sat there and looked down at the bar.
“I’ve been watching you for a while now.”
Shelly looked up. He was standing behind her, talking in a low voice.
“We haven’t been introduced. I’m Martin, and this party is for me. I can see you’ve been enjoying the club. I can also see you’re a little bored with this crowd. I am too.”
Martin was fortyish, a little gray at the temples. He wasn’t especially good-looking or tall, but Shelly could tell that he was in good physical shape. He wasn’t saying anything original, but it didn’t sound like a line, either. And he was still looking right at her, into her eyes actually. She felt like she was pinned to the barseat.
“I’m Shelly.” It came out almost like a stammer.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Shelly. Come outside for a walk with me.”
To this day, she doesn’t know why she went with him.
It was unusually warm for mid-October, and she didn’t get her coat. They walked for about an hour. She didn’t find out too much about him. Mostly, he asked her questions: where she was from; what did she do; did she have many friends in town. He wanted to know what she liked and disliked: did she have a favorite color? A favorite perfume? Where did she like to eat?
She answered all his questions, even though she thought he was prying. Before she noticed it, they were back in front of the club. They went inside, and he led her to the coat-check. She handed over her ticket, and he helped her into her coat and took her back outside.
He hailed a cab, and opened the door for her. She was about to get in, when he stopped her and asked for her telephone number. She gave it to him, without thinking. He helped her into the taxi, handed the driver a twenty-dollar bill.
All he said was, “Goodnight, Shelly. You will hear from me soon.” He closed the car door and the driver took off.
Back in her dorm room, Shelly’s roommate was fast asleep. Shelly hung up her new dress, took off her stockings and garter belt, removed her lace decollete bra. She started to remove her panties. It was then she noticed that the crotch was damp.
She pulled on one of the oversize t-shirts she often slept in, crawled between the bedcovers and fell asleep quickly.

Part 2

Saturday morning Shelly went to her gym. She worked out at least three times a week, and Saturday was usually her longest workout. Lately she was using a stair-stepper and rowing machine, followed by a session with the weights, and ending by swimming laps for half an hour. Then she went back to her room. There was a message on the answering machine. She hit the playback button and listened.
“Shelly, this is Martin. I’m free for lunch today, and I want you to meet me. If you can make it for two o’clock, call my secretary at 676-0020 and she will arrange for my driver to pick you up.”
Shelly had slept in before going to the gym. It was noon now. She tried to decide whether to call. Martin had been a bit assuming last night. She was interested in him, but she didn’t know why. Anyone who had a secretary and driver working on Saturday must be pretty busy, maybe important... she dialed the phone.
Shelly dressed simply, in a short gray wool pleated skirt, white stockings (she really didn’t like pantyhose) and a white silk blouse. She carried, but did not wear a black wool jacket. She was downstairs in front of the building when a vintage Rolls-Royce pulled up. A liveried driver got out, and walked right up to her: “Ms. Levine? Mr. Johnson is expecting you for lunch. Please come with me.” He opened the door for her, and Shelly got into the Rolls.
The trip took about fifteen minutes, with the driver gliding effortlessly through traffic, until the car stopped in front of a tiny restaurant in the North End. Shelly went in, and spotted Martin sitting alone in a semicircular booth at the back corner of the room. It was easy to find him, the place was empty. There was a bottle of red wine on the table, and a half-full glass sitting in front of him. He motioned to her, but did not get up.
Shelly immediately regretted having come. Her mouth felt dry, and she wanted to turn and run. It was like those first moments in the club last night, when she had seen him staring at her sitting at the bar. Her legs carried her over to his table as if he was controlling her body, not she.
She sat down.
“Hello Shelly. I’m so pleased that you could make it. I took the liberty of ordering for both of us. It always takes them a while to prepare the food here.”
He poured a glass of wine for her. She sat at the edge of the booth, while he was in the middle, at right angles to her. He moved away from her slightly, and asked her to slide into the booth, which she did.
They talked for a long time. This time, she actually learned something about him. He was forty-two, lived in a house overlooking the Charles. He was in business for himself, owned a company that manufactured high-tech electronics. He had been married briefly. He didn’t have any children.
While they talked, Shelly had a quite a few glasses of wine. The food was delicious. There was a linguine Puttanesca, followed by a large salad. It was exactly what she would have ordered for herself. Martin was soft-spoken and polite. She was beginning to relax, to really enjoy herself. She talked about her failed school career, her love of dancing and exercise, her childhood and teenage years in Westchester. She found herself drawn to this man who was exactly twice her age.
When she felt his hand on her knee, she didn’t try to move away. His touch was exciting, and firm. He slid his hand up her thigh to the top of her stocking, and then he tugged gently at one of her garters.
“Ahh. Marvelous. Most women have forgotten how to wear these.”
He did not stop at the top of her stocking, but moved his hand further under her loose pleated skirt, until he found the spot where her silk g-string panty came tightly across her crotch. He insinuated his fingers under the silk, and slid his hand into her, kneading her labia and clit between his strong fingers. She closed her eyes.
“I see I was not wrong. You are wet for me. That’s fine. I was sure when I first saw you, that you were the one I was looking for.”
He abruptly removed his hand, signaled for the waiter. He paid the bill, then helped Shelly to her feet. She had a little trouble standing.
“I’ll have my driver take you back to your dorm. Tomorrow, you should study. You don’t want to flunk out again. Monday evening, I want you to come to dinner at my home. I’ll call you tomorrow night to make the arrangements.”

Part 3

Shelly usually spent Sundays being lazy. Today, she was up by ten, had a light breakfast, and went right to the library, a place she had only been once before in her six weeks at school. But Martin was right, if she was going to stay at B.U., she had better try to get some work done.
The problem was, she couldn’t concentrate. She kept remembering Martin staring into her eyes, and the feeling of his hand on her pussy. She went back to her dorm, where happily, her roommate was out. She decided to take a shower. The hard flow of warm water relaxed her. She ran her hands over her breasts, played with her nipples for a few moments. She began to feel a familiar warmth and tingling in her loins. She put one hand down there, and fondled herself until she came, in short, shuddering spasms.
Martin’s call came shortly after dinner. He sounded like a boss, giving orders.
“Hello Shelly. It’s Martin. Were you waiting for my call?”
“Good. How did your studying go today?”
Shelly was a little embarrassed. “Not so great, I’m afraid. I was a little distracted.”
“That’s no good. If you are going to have time for me, you will have to work efficiently. Well, never mind. I can help you with that. When are you finished with classes tomorrow?
“I get done about three.”
“That is perfect. I’ll have John, he’s my driver, pick you up at three-fifteen. Don’t bother to change out of your school clothes. You will be coming to dinner at my home, but before dinner, there are some preparations I want you to make. Four hours should be just about right. You will arrive at my place by seven-thirty.”
“What preparations?”
“I knew you would ask, but I won’t discuss them on the phone with you. I plan an evening of entertainment for you. If you are not pleased by it, you will be free to leave at any time.”
He hung up.
It was exactly three-fifteen. Shelly was wearing jeans, sneakers and a leotard top when John pulled up in the Rolls. He didn’t get out this time, but signaled to her. She got into the back and he pulled away. She asked where he was taking her. All he said was “downtown.”
He dropped her off at a building not too far from Government Center.
“Mr. Johnson asked me to tell you. You are to go up the the eighth floor, there is a spa and salon there. Ask for Verna. She is waiting for you. I’ll be down here when you are ready.” He pulled away.
When Shelly stepped out of the elevator, she saw that the entire floor was devoted to a health club and beauty salon. Her gym was... nice. This place was opulent. She was standing in carpeting so thick she thought she would sink in to the knee.
The receptionist asked her name, and when she answered, she was offered a cup of cappucino and told she could look around a bit, and that Verna would find her.
The equipment in the club was all the latest and best. There was a huge sauna and steam room, and dressing rooms that were self-contained, with private baths. The people she saw, men and women, were of all ages, but they all had one thing in common, they were in uncommonly good shape. Shelly was glad that she had been keeping up her workouts. The beauty part was closed off, well, not exactly, there was a common area, but the salon rooms themselves were private. Someone came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Hi Shelly. I’m Verna. You are a very lucky girl, Mr. Johnson has asked us to give you the full treatment, and put the whole thing on his tab.”
Verna was a statuesque blonde, about thirty, who looked absolutely fabulous in her staff uniform, a custom-made running suit. She took Shelly by the hand before she had a chance to speak, and led her off to one of the salon rooms.
“Your personal afternoon of beauty will include a full facial, mask and body wrap, a hair styling, body waxing, manicure and pedicure, and a make-up session. You may leave your clothes, everything, here in this closet. There is a robe and slippers for you to wear.”
Shelly’s mom had often treated her to this kind of care, and so she felt she knew what to expect. She was pleased that Martin was showing her so much consideration, and it made her feel very at ease, when just a few minutes ago on the way over she had felt a bit panicked. She put all her clothing, including her panties, in the closet. She put on a pair of felt slippers, from an assortment on the closet floor. She put on the robe, which was a bit unusual. It was a black wet-look nylon cire, lined with the same material. It felt slippery, and a little sticky. It was quite short, just barely covering her ass. She was ready.
What followed was a procession of experts and treatments, one right after the other. She started to feel as if she wasn’t there, they were just leading her body from room to room, from one form of manipulation to another. She was half-asleep when she was brought to a room with a small Asian woman. The room contained a table that looked like a massage table, except it was covered in padded shiny black vinyl.
“Please take off you robe. I will do leg-wax now.”
Shelly had been waxed, including bikini-waxing, before. She preferred to shave, but what the heck? She put her robe on a chair, and hopped up on the table. It stuck to her ass.
The woman deftly applied and removed strip after strip of wax. She was so proficient, Shelly hardly felt anything. She relaxed and listened to the piped-in jazz. Her legs were very smooth in almost no time.
“Now you lay back, put legs up, I do bikini line.”
Shelly slid up on the table and lay down. She put her feet up, bending her knees.
“First, I trim hair.”
The woman worked quickly, with a small pair of shears. She was handling Shelly’s pussy, and Shelly really didn’t mind. It felt pretty good. Shelly closed her eyes. The woman applied more wax strips.
“Hold still now, I don’t hurt you.”
The wax was suddenly removed. Shelly felt a sharp pain. It was then she realized that the woman had waxed not just her bikini line, but had removed ALL her pubic hair! She looked down and saw her bald pussy.
“Usually don’t wax all. Have instructions Mr. Johnson.”
One of Shelly’s boy friends had wanted to shave her down there, but she had refused. It was too late now...
The rest of her beauty session continued uneventfully. When she left the salon, her long hair had been washed, and braided with a black silk ribbon. Her lips and nails were done in a very bright red. Walking out to the lobby, back in her jeans, she felt a wonderful friction of her pants against her now- naked mound.
John and the Rolls were out in front. She got right in. A clock in the back of the car said 6:30. She wondered if they had finished early, or if the “preparations” Martin had mentioned were done yet.
They weren’t. John drove only a short distance, to a small shop near the edge of Chinatown.
“Shelly, Mr. Johnson has ordered some clothes for you for the evening. Go right in, they’re expecting you.”
There was only one dress in the window, short and red, and very glossy. It looked like rubber.
It was rubber. As she walked into the shop, the smell of it filled her senses. The shop was lovely, the clothing displayed all quite beautiful. Everything was made of latex, in exquisite colors. A woman dressed in a black jumpsuit came up to her.
“Mr. Johnson was right, in fact, you are lovelier than he described. You are going to look marvelous. Come right this way.”
Shelly was led to a dressing room, where for the second time that day, she was asked to disrobe. The woman took a tape measure, and measured every inch of her body.
“Today, I will have to give you a readymade outfit. Most of our clothing is custom.”
The saleswoman returned with a dark blue dress, and a bottle of talc.
“I’ll have to help you with this. Is this your first rubber garment? I thought so. You need to lightly powder your breasts, torso and back for this one. The dress is worn directly against your skin, no undergarments.”
The rubber material was very smooth, and stretchy. The woman helped Shelly ease into the dress. It was cut fairly low, in a scoop-neck, with no sleeves. The skirt fell in loose pleats from her hips, extremely short. There were garter straps concealed in the dress itself. Stockings were brought in, and Shelly slipped them on. They were quite pale, real silk, with seams up the back. Shoes were brought also, pumps in blue patent, the same color as the dress. They had four-inch spike heels.
Shelly looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She was a contrast in colors and textures: the red lipstick and nails, the slick blue dress, pale legs. The top of the dress was so tight you could make out her ribs, and her nipples, which almost peeked out of the bustline.
“It is getting a little chilly out. You need a jacket to complete the look.”
A jacket was brought. It was red, the same red as her lipstick. It was cropped short, and ended just where the pleats of the dress began. Shelly looked ravishing.
(In the next part, not yet written, Shelly is taken to Martin’s house, where they dine alone. After dinner, a scene of divine Domination and submission occurs, in which Shelly is tested, brought by Martin to the limits of pain/pleasure in a variety of interesting ways. Martin reminds her that she is free to leave at any time, but she stays. )
(I await comments/critique from all interested. This is my first effort. Should I continue?)

Part 4

Martin’s car was waiting outside when Shelly left the shop. She felt more than a bit self-conscious walking outside in this outfit, but it was just a short walk to the car. John didn’t say a word, he just started driving. There was a little traffic, but before long they were headed down Beacon Street. John had the heat on, and the latex dress was sticking to her, all over.
John stopped the car in front of a building a few blocks from Mass. Ave. This time, he got out first, and opened the door for Shelly. She sensed him watching her as she walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell.
Martin answered the door himself. He was conservatively dressed, in a pale blue silk shirt and tie, and well-cut wool trousers.
“Come in, Shelly,” he smiled. “That dress looks even better on you than I had imagined. I trust you enjoyed the salon? You may give me your jacket.”
She handed it to him, and he hung it in a nearby closet. He hadn’t said anything else, and she stood in the foyer, waiting for a signal from him. He stood a few feet from her, scrutinizing her from head to toe.
“Turn around, very slowly.”
As she turned, she felt like she was being appraised.
“That’s fine, now follow me.”
Martin turned and walked towards the back of the house. Shelly walked behind him. The interior of the house was a harsh contrast with its outsides. All the buildings in this part of town were fairly old, and this was no exception. Inside, the house was ultra-modern. It appeared that the entire place had been gutted and redone. Not that she didn’t admire it, everything was very beautiful, very expensive. But it reminded her of a space station, or what she imagined one would look like. A circular staircase in the front hall was a single continuous spiral of brushed steel, reminiscent of a DNA molecule she remembered from biology class. The floor they were walking on was an expanse of black ceramic; like tiling, but where were the seams?
They entered a room with a floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the Charles and the evening sky over Cambridge. The decor here was a bit softer: wall-to-wall gray carpeting, a central fireplace, couches and chairs upholstered in soft black leather. A small table near the window was set with china and silver for two.
Martin motioned for her to sit, offering a sofa facing the window. She sat down at one end. He did not sit with her, but instead sat on the arm of a chair, facing her. As he sat, he started to speak. “Welcome to my home. I know you have many questions. Right now, you don’t need to speak, only to listen. If I ask a question, you may respond by nodding. I’m sure from our previous meetings, and your presence here tonight, that you will be quite interested in what I have to say, and what will ensue, if you agree to it.”
“You have figured out by now, especially after your trip this afternoon, that my invitation includes substantially more than a meal. The dress you are wearing right now was selected for two reasons: first, because I knew that you would look enticing in it, but more importantly, because the material and fit are very stimulating for the wearer. Do you feel a bit warm in it?”
She nodded her head.
“I know that you want to go to bed with me. The relationship I am seeking will go much deeper than that, farther than you think you are capable of.”
“Stand up,” he commanded.
Without a word, Shelly stood. Martin stood also, and stepped towards her. He reached out and lifted her skirt. Shelly closed her eyes.
“Spread your legs.”
She complied.
She moved her legs farther apart.
“Your cunt is lovely this way. I find that the hair only impedes my desires. Was it painful when the wax was removed?
She nodded again.
“That’s fine. You are here to discover that pain and pleasure are a continuum. You will also find that true freedom can only be achieved through acquiescence and restraint.”
With his other hand, he reached between her legs, stroked her, gently massaged her clit. Her heart quickened. She felt a stinging pain, he had slapped her, quite hard, on her most sensitive parts. She gasped, and looked up at him.
“Sit down again, but keep your legs spread. I want to look at you.”
Shelly sat. With her legs apart this way, the short pleats of latex rode up and left her completely exposed. The room was cool, and it was a strange mixture: the chill air on her legs, the wet warmth of the rubber, the stinging that she still felt between her legs. She didn’t understand her emotions. She should have been angry and offended. She should have hit him, and walked out.
Instead, she sat there, exposed to this man who was almost a stranger, feeling both desire and fear.
She waited what seemed like an eternity before he spoke again.
“You remember, I told you on the telephone that you would be free to leave. You may go, and keep the dress; I will not call you again. Do you want John to take you home right now?”
She slowly shook her head.
“I thought not. We will have a light supper shortly, but first, I want to show you around my house. It’s a bit unusual, designed to my own specifications. Please come with me.”
As they left the room, Martin touched a few buttons on a small panel by the door. Soft music played, although Shelly could not locate the source. He said “Room, lights down,” and the lights in the room dimmed.
“Much of the house is computerized, and responds to voice or touchpad commands, sounds, heat or motion. I realize it’s an extravagant plaything, but I am fond of games and toys, as you will discover. My background in engineering makes me especially interested in high-tech devices, and my financial situation and business facilities make it possible for me to indulge my fancy to an extreme.”
Shelly followed Martin into the kitchen. As they entered, the lights came on by themselves. The floor was more of the seamless ceramic she had noticed in the foyer, but white this time. The fixtures were all of restaurant quality, and all in gleaming, brushed steel. There was enough space to prepare an elaborate banquet for a crowd. An adjacent pantry looked like it could hold sufficient provisions for a year.
Next was a formal dining room, which seemed more like a boardroom at NASA. Most of the space was occupied by an enormous table, made of a single piece of black marble-like material, flowing up from a single large oblong pedestal. She counted thirty dining chairs, all in brushed chrome and black leather. The lighting seemed to emanate from the ceiling, as if the entire ceiling were one large soft lamp.
From the dining room, they crossed the hall to a study. There were bookshelves to the ceiling, and a large desk, more marble, with a few monitor screens and a keyboard. There were also a couple of chairs and a very soft couch, in a gray velvet. Small pinpoints of light fell on the seating, while others highlighted some paintings and photographs on the walls.
There was one photo in particular which made a profound impression on Shelly. A woman was naked, except for a shiny black helmet encasing her head. There were no openings in the helmet, but a tube protruded from where the mouth would be, ending in a small bulb. She stood against a wall, spread-eagled, with thick cuffs around each wrist and ankle, connected to cables which in turn were connected to steel rings in the wall. Large rings in her nipples were linked to dull steel chains, which were coupled to another chain, which led to a ring passing through both of the lips of her sex. The chains looked heavy, pulling on the woman’s nipples and labia. There was also a large weight attached to the chain hanging from her sex. Like Shelly, she was completely shaved.
Shelly had never seen anything like this before, anywhere. She wondered how long the woman had been kept in that painful position. She wondered if this is what Martin had in mind for her.
“I took it myself. It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it? Does it frighten you?”
Shelly didn’t know if she now had permission to speak. She nodded agreement. She was shaking slightly.
“Do you still want to go on?”
She nodded again.
“I think you would like to see the upstairs now. Careful with your heels on the steps.”
There were four or five rooms on the next floor, but Martin chose only to show her two of them. First, he brought her into a large bedroom. Like the first room she was in below, this room had a river view. There was a king size bed, shaped like many brass beds she had seen, but the metal looked like black chrome. A small desk held another computer keyboard, with a single monitor set into the wall over the desk. A couple of chairs, and a table which resembled a massage table were the only other furniture. Martin showed her a large walk-in closet, with a floor length three-sided mirror, and another full length mirror behind. There was a low platform set in front, as you would find in some tailor shops.
“I have a wonderful surprise waiting here for you. Get up on the platform.”
“Good. Stand with your legs apart, and lift both sides of your dress.”
She could not take her eyes off the spectacle she saw in the mirror. Her hairless labia were quite red. She didn’t know if this was from excitement, or the rude slap she had received earlier. Martin had walked a few feet away, opened a drawer and taken a few things out. Now he returned, and Shelly saw he was holding what looked like a belt, only it was made of heavy, wide black rubber.
“I have had this custom made from my own design. I’m sure you are going to find it stimulating. Now, hold still.”
The belt consisted of two parts. He stood behind her, and slipped it under the garters of the dress. He pulled it snug just below her waist, and fastened it tightly, she could not see how it was buckled, behind her. Now, the second part of the belt hung down in the center, in front of her belly. It was a somewhat thinner strap, of the same material. Martin reached into his pocket, and withdrew two metal plugs, highly polished. One was about six inches in length, rounded at the top, and flared, starting about one inch in diameter at the tip, to two inches at the base. There was a small extension at one side of the base, with a little knob attached. The second plug was shorter and narrower, and lacked the extension. Both had small flat rings underneath. The belt would just fit through the rings.
Martin slid the larger plug onto the belt. Then he asked her: “Have you ever been taken in the rear?”
Shelly shook her head violently.
Martin laughed. “Then I chose the right size to start. You have to work your way up, you know!”
He slipped the other, smaller plug onto the belt. Even though he still held one end, Shelly could feel the weight of these devices pulling on the waist strap. He brought the belt between her legs, up between her buttocks. He asked her to lean slightly forward. As she did, she felt the strap being tightened. Martin directed both plugs, the larger into her vagina, the smaller one behind. Shelly felt them penetrate deeply into her as he tightened the center strap further. She gasped at the cold hard feeling of them. When he had finished, she was thoroughly invaded, felt the steel inside her, filling her. The knob on the front plug pressed hard against her clit, which was throbbing.
“It is an amazing sensation, isn’t it? I’m very proud of this design. The rubber is too stretchy, despite its thickness, so there are small tempered steel cables imbedded within. It absolutely can’t be cut, and the rear clasp can be locked. You may find yourself wearing this quite often. But now, let’s make one more stop on our tour.”
He took her by the waist, helped her down from the platform. She had trouble walking. The pressure of the belt, and the bulk and weight of the steel probes inside her was more than a little uncomfortable. At every step, the knob pressing against her clit inflamed her.
They passed back through the bedroom, and entered a bathroom which was at least twice the size of Shelly’s dorm room. Chrome and gray marble were the keynotes. Shelly didn’t recognize many of the fixtures, but Martin offered no explanation. In the center of the room was a huge tub, circular. Three columns extended up from the sides, and ended in a chrome ring about eight feet above the tub, where you might expect a shower curtain to hang, but there was none. The tub had a number of faucets, spray heads and other appendages, and an array of complicated controls set into the side. There were also a number of set-in rings, like those found on swimming pools where lines might be attached to make lanes.
“After dinner, I thought I might treat you to a bath. Now, we will eat.”
Walking down the stairs with the plugs inserted was not easy. She almost lost her footing once, and Martin caught her by the waist.
“I see you will have to get used to the heels, and the belt. The shoes you have on are only four inches. You will eventually learn grace in much higher heels, thicker and longer plugs. Come along.”

Part 5

Back in the gray-carpeted room where the evening had begun, Martin showed her to the table by the window, already set for dinner. The moon was out, and the view, spectacular.
“I won’t ask you to serve this evening.” Martin held a chair for her.
“Please be seated. I’ll only be a moment. The cook prepared everything before she left.”
Shelly sat. As she did, she noticed the plug in her rectum push deeper into her. She could not settle into the chair because of the pressure, so she half-sat, trying to keep her weight on her feet. The heels made this difficult. Finally she gave up, and tried to accommodate the probe. She found that by relaxing her muscles, she could sit. The plug, pushing deeper inside her bowels, hurt at first, but then became a throbbing. She had to concentrate on relaxing the sphincter muscles, every few moments, they would try to tighten again, and the pain would return. What would a larger device feel like?
Martin returned, carrying a tray with two steaming bowls. He placed one in front of her, filled with white soup. He placed the other bowl at his setting, and sat down.
“New England clam chowder is a passion for me. This is prepared from an old family recipe. I”m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
Shelly and Martin ate. Although the soup was delicious, Shelly ate with difficulty. The pressure in her loins and rear was constant. Her body temperature had finally warmed the two probes, but that provided little relief.
Martin spoke again. “I’m going to lift your restriction on speech, but before I do, I want you to understand that you are not to speak first. You may respond to my questions, but do not ask me anything, and do not allow your answers to stray from the subject. Be honest, there is no point in evasion. I will know if you are trying to lie to me.”
He continued. “I am a student of human nature, and I understand you quite well. You think you are complicated. You are really simple. You think you want to be in control, but you do not even begin to understand the nature of control. Your parents have been too indulgent with you. When I first spotted you at the bar, I knew immediately who you were, and why you were there.”
“You need to be lead. You have been looking, without knowing it, for someone to direct your life, and that is why you are drawn to me. That is why you will not leave, despite the fact that you have been free to go at any time. The chains that bind you are invisible, created by your own desire.”
“I will be pleased to train you. It is my raison d’etre, reason for being. Your training is sexual in nature, for you are a creature of sex. The goal of my instruction transcends sensuality, to find and nurture your soul. The satisfaction which I will derive from your enlightenment is twofold: first, it satiates my own urges, but more importantly, I will derive the greatest pleasure from your spiritual and intellectual evolution.”
“We have now reached a juncture. The only promise I will make to you is that I will not cause you any permanent injury. If you stay, you will feel torment this evening, both physical and emotional. You will also feel enormous delight, perhaps greater than you have known. To begin your instruction, I must know your limits. There will be times when you will beg me to stop, but this is only your weakness, and I cannot concede to you, for you have no conception of your strength. I have much better methods for determining the extent of your resolve.”
“Up to now, I have reminded you numerous times that you could leave if you wanted. Now, I must have a decision from you. If you agree to stay, from here on I will not pay the slightest heed to any request you make. On the other hand, any failure on your part to comply with my commands will be treated most harshly. I will expect your total obedience, your immediate acquiescence to my orders.”
“You may consider what I have told you, and what I am asking. I will return in a moment.”
He picked up the soup bowls, Shelly had barely touched hers, and left the room.
Shelly’s mind was reeling. She should leave, forget this man, forget that this night had ever taken place. He had hit her, humiliated her, insulted her. She ought to have him arrested...
Deep within her, another voice expressed itself. She wanted him, wanted to please him, to prove herself worthy. She had given up before, whenever things became too difficult. He was right about her; she needed him, needed his mastery...
But could she withstand this kind of treatment? What did he want her to become? Was she to be like the woman in the photo?
Just now, Martin returned, carrying two chef salads and two water glasses.
“I must have your answer now. Are you prepared to stay?”
Shelly’s mouth was dry. She looked down at her plate, could not meet his stare.
“I, I don’t know.”
His voice was unfeeling. “Yes, you do know. If you retreat now, you will regret it later. Will you remain?”
After a moment, she answered. “Y-Yes.”
“Good. But your one word response will not suffice. Repeat after me:
I am nothing. I exist only to serve. I will perform any instructions I am given.”
Shelly repeated his words. He continued:
You are my conqueror. I give you the right to treat me harshly, to beat me, to keep me in chains.”
Shelly did not speak.
“Repeat what I have said, or I’ll throw you out this minute!”
Finally, she duplicated his words.
He smiled warmly at her. “Now, Shelly, you must eat something. You are going to need your strength for what I have in store.”
He ate his salad with gusto. Shelly forced herself to eat. The salad looked wonderful, but everything tasted like straw to her. She was consumed by anxiety, found it difficult to swallow. Finally she emptied her plate.
“That’s better. We won’t have dessert, but I have espresso brewing. I purposely did not serve any wine with our meal, as it dulls the senses. You will drink the espresso, it will make you more alert.”
He brought two small cups. She sipped hers, and found the strong, bitter brew somewhat reviving. She finished the cup. There was perspiration dripping from her arms and between her breasts. She had trouble breathing, both from the pressure of her dress and her fear, fear of what she had agreed to a short while before.
Martin stood up from the table.
All right, Shelly. I’ve promised you a bath. Come upstairs.”
In spite of her dread, she found the stairs easier to navigate this time. Martin brought her into the dressing room where he had earlier attached her belt.
“Take off your shoes and stockings. I’ll help you out of your dress. It’s expensive, and you don’t want to tear it.”
He waited while Shelly stepped out of the shoes, unfastened the garters and removed the silk stockings. Then he slowly peeled the latex up over her head, turning it inside-out. Finally it was off. Her upper body was covered in sweat. All that remained was the thick rubber belt, and the plugs between her legs. She felt a chill as the perspiration evaporated from her.
“It’s a pity to remove the belt. I know how much you enjoy the stimulation it provides. There will be plenty of time for it later. Now, there are other experiences, other sensations you must savor.”
He released the belt, abruptly jerked the plugs from inside her. She shook.
“Remain as you are.”
He put the belt aside, opened a drawer, and removed four wide cuffs.
“The dress shop called earlier with your measurements. These should fit exactly.”
He placed a cuff around each wrist, and wider cuffs around her ankles. They were made of the same heavy rubber material as the belt she had been wearing. Each was almost an inch thick, and had clasps imbedded within, closing with a sharp click. Each had a thick ring imbedded in one side. Martin made sure to place the part with the ring on the outside of each limb, as the cuffs were tight enough that they could not be turned, although not so tight as to cut off her circulation.
“These cuffs and clasps are unique. I have seen similar devices made of leather, but they get ruined if you get them wet. Steel bracelets would work, but they can chafe and cut if you struggle. These have steel cable in them, like the belt, and the rubber-coated rings attached are very strong. The clasps contain magnetic locks. I have the only key.”
Martin undressed. Shelly could not help but admire his body. He was well-muscled, but not muscle bound. He pulled on a pair of gray gym shorts.
He took Shelly by the wrist, and led her into the bathroom. The floor was cold beneath her feet. He helped her into the empty tub.
“Lie down on your back.”
The marble drew the heat from her, and she trembled.
“Relax. The water will warm you up shortly.”
He removed four short straps from a cabinet set into the wall, and attached one to the ring in each cuff. He took one arm, then the other, and connected the straps to rings set in opposite sides of the tub. Her arms were stretched tightly, straight out at shoulder level.
“Raise your legs up towards your chest.”
As she did so, he pulled each leg up straight, and attached the strap to the same ring her arm was fastened to. She was doubled up, lying on her back with her legs and ass in the air, her legs spread at an obscene angle. There was nothing she could do. She could not move at all.
Martin reached for her breasts, kneaded and pinched her nipples. Shelly moaned. He slid his hands down her torso, forced his fingers inside her sex and rear. Her body was covered in goose flesh, and she was quivering.
“You are too easy. That is part of your problem. I hope I was not mistaken, you may enjoy this too much.”
He adjusted the position of two small jets located above her arms, and touched the control pad. Small, powerful streams of warm water pulsed, aimed precisely at her nipples. The sensation was extraordinary. Her nipples had always been extremely sensitive. Now they engorged and grew hard. She began to feel a tingling which ran right through her. At the other end of the tub, he withdrew a small sprayhead connected to a hose which unreeled from within the tub itself.
“This is my favorite part. I can control the pressure, temperature and pulsation of each outlet independently.”
He aimed a needle spray from the hose right at her crotch. This spray was freezing cold, and she screamed. Then the water became warmer, and the feeling became intensely pleasurable. He started to move the spray around, from the insides of her legs, to her cunt, down to her anus. Her breath started to come faster.
Suddenly, the water became very hot. Shelly felt it burning at the very core of her.
“There is no need to worry. The temperature control is digital, and very precise. I will be able to see what temperatures you can withstand, and the electronics will store the data for future reference.”
“Oooooh god, you’re burning me! I can’t take this! You’ve got to stop!”
“Did I warn you about speaking out of turn?”
The water became even hotter. Shelly thought she would faint. The stinging sensation in her breasts and belly was dreadful. Both breasts, her cunt lips and clit had turned bright red.
“Please stop! I can’t bear it!”
“Of course you can. The water isn’t hot enough to scald. You really are a child. You must learn to give in to the sensation, to turn the pain into pleasure.”
As the water pressure and temperature increased even further, Shelly screamed again, but as she screamed she started to come. Martin watched her face, allowed her orgasm to continue for almost half a minute. Then he changed the setting, and cool, soothing water washed over her. She was exhausted. The whole ordeal had lasted not more than ten minutes.
Martin turned off the flow of water, allowed the hose to recoil inside the wall of the tub. He left the room, Shelly still bound tightly within the tub, whimpering.
Shelly could not tell how long Martin was gone, but the tub was getting cold again, and her arms and legs were beginning to cramp. She regretted her decision to stay, but it was too late now. She had committed herself, and she knew that he was determined to carry out his plans.
Whatever they might be.
Martin returned. Without saying a word, he unhooked the straps holding her legs, then her arms, and helped her stand. She was very wobbly. He took a towel from a rack beside the tub, and dried her off. Then he spoke.
“First, you must thank me for beginning your schooling with such care and attention.”
Shelly looked at him. She was silent.
“Say it. Say ‘Thank you, Martin’.”
She repeated, woodenly. “Thank you Martin.”
“Your lack of maturity is going to make my task challenging. On the other hand, your easy sensuality provides me with the raw material I need for your education and transformation. I will start by training your body; your mind will innately follow. But, I am getting ahead of myself. Time is fleeting, and we must continue. Your first experience of training must be conducted with care, as it sets the groundwork for all that must follow.”
“The coffee you drank earlier will have passed through you; you should relieve yourself. The next session may be lengthy, and I don’t want you to spoil my bedroom carpet!” He laughed.
He pointed to a fixture. It looked like a toilet, but was lower, and had no seat. She looked puzzled.
“This is a Turkish-style toilet. Stand astride it, and squat. You are not to sit on it.”
Shelly did as she was told. Martin was watching her intently, and at first she could not pee. Finally, the urine escaped from her body.
Martin took her back into the bedroom, to the dressing room. Once again he asked her to stand on the platform by the mirrors. Her breasts and belly were a deep crimson, her labia swollen.
He had opened another drawer and removed some implements. Presently, he watched her looking at herself.
“The bath has done an fine job of sensitizing your tits and cunt. It prepares you nicely for the next exercise.”
“The belt that you wore earlier is a simple contrivance, its effect derived from weight and pressure. The one I will now attach is much more clever.”
It was another set of straps, forming a “T” like the last, but extremely thin and light. Martin fastened it behind, and once again slipped two plugs onto the crotch strap, but these were much smaller, thinner, and made of rubber, not steel. He slipped them inside her, and attached the center strap to the waist strap behind. It felt nothing like the previous one.
He led her to the massage table she had noticed earlier, and had her lay down on her back. The table was longer than any massage table she had seen before, and was covered in heavy black rubber. He asked her to raise her arms above her head, then joined the rings in each cuff to steel rings that popped out of the sides of the table. He then attached each leg cuff in the same manner. He left for a moment, then returned, carrying an array of whips; there were half a dozen, of different materials and construction.
He showed her each one. There was a very thin leather riding crop; a shorter one, thicker, with a large flat loop of leather at the end; a cat, with a number of strands of thin leather; another cat made of rubber cords; a paddle, covered in smooth leather on one side, horsehair on the other; a narrower paddle made of rubber; lastly, a switch, made of thin bamboo, encased in leather. Every one had a large, contoured handle, affording an excellent grip.
Shelly’s eyes were wide. She was overcome by terror.
Martin laughed again. “You needn’t be so dramatic. You may have read a trashy novel or two, in which the heroine is painfully and severely whipped. What you are about to experience is much more elaborate and intense.”
His words did not console her.
“The belt you are wearing is the product of great ingenuity. The principle behind it was developed by a good friend of mine, a physiologist from just across the river at M.I.T. The two little plugs are capable of producing a most dramatic effect. Allow me to demonstrate.”
He opened a small drawer in the side of the table, and withdrew what looked like a remote control for a television. He depressed a button, and a wave of ecstasy spread through her, starting at her core and spreading to all parts of her body. It was over as soon as it began. She could not suppress the moan which escaped her lips.
“My friend would find your response to his little toy most gratifying. But using it solely to give you pleasure would defeat my purpose.”
“I could just beat you. After a while, you would find it welcome to be beaten, but the process is too time consuming. At first, you would feel nothing but pain and humiliation. The humiliation is useful, however, it takes too long, too many sessions, for you to derive joy from the whip. Therefore, the appliance you wear.”
“Each of the whips and paddles contains a sensor, and a radio connection to the plugs within you. At the moment of contact, you feel both the agony of the whip, and the delight emanating from your loins. It very quickly establishes a conditioning, a confusion of the apparent division between pain and pleasure. You will soon begin to learn that the two are closely related, inseparable. Of course, the sensors in the whips send a signal which is proportional to the intensity with which you are struck. I can vary the degree to which your belt responds, or turn it off altogether.”
He manipulated the remote control, and Shelly felt the table moving, the table top pivoting so that the end by her legs tilted upwards. It did not stop until she was almost vertical, upside-down. Then, she felt her legs being drawn apart; the section of the table divided, just at her waist. She was now held in the shape of a “Y,” her legs forming a ninety-degree angle above her.
“I had forgotten to mention this table, a marvelous piece of furniture. It is capable of so many different forms...”
“This particular position affords me access to your breasts, particularly the undersides which are quite sensitive; your stomach, belly, and the insides of your thighs are also easy targets.”
He picked up the leather cat, and gently drew the strands across her breasts, then along the inside of each thigh. He caressed the lips of her hairless sex with the smooth leather.
“The sensors and belt are turned off right now. I want you to feel the thrill of the leather on your skin. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Answer me!”
“Y-yes, it feels good.” “ Please don’t hurt me.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
She saw him lift the whip, bring it down hard right on her crotch. The sting of the leather brought tears to her eyes.
“You forget too easily. You will speak only to answer my questions. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Martin.”
“That’s better. I’m wasting time now. We should begin in earnest.”
He made an adjustment to the remote control. Then, he started whipping her breasts. He swung the whip round in circles, quickly and lightly striking her nipples. Each time the leather made contact, she felt a stinging, but also an incredible warmth in her loins. It quickly became a blur. It hurt, but each stroke also renewed the delight that spread from her center outward.
“Confusing, isn’t it, this mixture of distress and bliss? I must be careful not to overdo the effect of the belt.”
He made another adjustment. When he began again, he started snapping the lashes, much harder, alternating from one breast to the other. The sensation in her loins continued, but unlike the lustful waves she had felt, it was now more like ripples in a pond. The burning pain in her chest was a downpour.
Martin flogged her still harder. She began to scream.
“Control yourself. Quiet!”
The strokes were harder still. Again, she cried out.
“I did not realize the extent of your weakness. You’re pitiful. I don’t have to listen to this any longer.”
He left her there, only to return a few seconds later. He held a gag; a short strap possessing a rubber plug which flared in the middle, then tapered at the base. He held it in front of her face.
“Open your mouth, widely.”
Shelly clenched her teeth.
With one hand he slapped her cunt, so hard that she gasped. As she did, he stuffed the plug into her mouth. She could not spit it out. He pulled the sides of the strap around her cheeks, fastened it behind her head. She tried to scream again. Not a sound escaped.
“Your cries serve no purpose, indeed they slow down your progress. Now you can concentrate on the sensation this unique form of torture provides.” He picked up one of the crops.
Shelly shook her head, violently.
“I wanted you to be able to watch, but I am evidently mistaken.”
He disappeared again, and came back with a blindfold, also of rubber. He slipped it on her, and the room turned black.
For a while, she felt nothing, save the burning in her breasts and belly. Shelly breathed heavily, through her nose. She dreaded the whip, wondered when Martin would start again.
“Anticipation is useful. Now that you can’t see the blows coming, it leaves your mind free to wander. Contemplate this: I promised you I would test your limits, your ability to endure. So far you disappoint me; I thought you were stronger. It is my responsibility to educate you, to take you beyond what you yourself believe you can endure.”
He struck her with the crop, just at the spot where her breasts met her ribcage. The pain was excruciating. He kept flogging her, each time at a different spot: her ribs, her belly , her nipples were not spared. She felt close to fainting. Suddenly, the blows stopped.
She felt a rough, prickly feeling. Martin was drawing the horsehair paddle across her belly. He slapped her with it, all over, in a building cadence of speed and force. At each blow, her muscles tensed. But the extraordinary feeling in her loins was building too, she felt on the verge of release... and then... nothing!
“It would be contemptible of me to let you come now. You are just beginning to profit from my ministrations.”
He ran his hands down her legs, through her crotch, across her belly and breasts. Everywhere he touched was raw and stinging.
She felt the table moving again. In a moment, she was horizontal, her legs back together. Her breath was easier now.
Martin allowed her a respite of just a few minutes.
She felt her legs being raised and spread wide, and the small of her back being lifted. A swishing sound was followed by a stinging on the inside of her thighs.
“Leather produces a fine reaction, but the proficiency of this rubber cat is remarkable on the inside of your legs, even better on your cunt lips, and the tender spot where thigh meets crotch. You will be sure to remember the feeling for a long, long time.”
His attack on her loins began slowly. Each stroke burned her flesh, while surge upon surge of thrilling warmth flowed, from the same zone in which the pain was felt. How could something so terrible feel so wonderful? Martin’s vigor increased; soon each blow felt like a million burning pins penetrating her, while the crest of desire peaked higher still. Her legs started to buck, uncontrollably. She wanted more, harder, faster; faster still............................
Again, a blank.
“I can read your passion easily. I must not forget myself, give in to you. It is too soon.”
The table returned to its original position. Shelly felt Martin unclipping her legs and arms.
“Do not try to move yet. Your muscles will not respond properly, and I don’t want you to fall.”
She lay on the table, still blinded and gagged. After a moment, she felt his hands on her side. He rolled her onto her stomach, then reattached her restraints. She realized her backside was not to be spared, as the center of the table began to bend and rise, and her legs and head pitched downward. Her thighs spread apart once again.
“Most advocates of the whip concentrate on the buttocks, and the back of the legs. There are advantages and disadvantages to this approach. The backside is well muscled, also well padded, which renders it somewhat less sensitive than other areas. Of course, this also permits the application of greater violence.”
“You have yet to appreciate the effects produced by the thinner, longer instruments. The first riding crop I showed you looks delicate, but its results are just the opposite. Each stroke is exquisitely horrible. It leaves marks which can remain for days. It can even draw blood. I have to be careful with it, not to become overzealous.”
“The switch is even more severe.”
He began with the crop. Shelly felt an awful stinging in her seat, a slight sensation of warmth within her. Martin continued, varying the pace and intensity of the strokes, until her ass and legs were ablaze.
He walked around in front of her, removed the gag and blindfold.
“You are almost done with this phase, however, there is a certain level of control that you have yet to attain. I do hope you can find it.”
“I intend to give you ten hard strokes with the switch. But, there is a little game we will play. You are going to count each blow, and then you must ask me politely for the next. If you are slow to respond, I will have to add another stroke to the count. Should you lose count, we will have to start the game over from one.”
“You may ask me for the first stroke now. Say, ‘Martin, please flog me’.”
She repeated his words, and the first blow fell. She screamed.
“That’s too bad, Shelly. We will have to begin again. Do you remember your lines?”
She said it: “Martin, please flog me.”
She braced herself, and when the whip fell she did not cry out.
“Shelly, I do think you are learning. What comes next?”
“Martin, please flog me.”
“Martin, please flog me.”
She was sure that she would fail, that this unendurable agony mixed with sweetness would go on forever. She continued her part, did not lose count. Tears streamed down her face.
“M-martin, please flog me.”
The last blow was the worst. Shelly bit her tongue.
She passed out.
Shelly awoke to the sharp smell of ammonia. Martin was waving an ampoule near her face. When her eyes opened, he withdrew it and spoke:
“We have made a moderately good beginning, and it is growing late.”
He unfastened her, helped her to stand. All her muscles cried out, her skin was raw. She was covered in sweat; the rubber tabletop was soaked with it.
“We should attend to your skin, you need a shower.”
He took her to the bathroom, and removed the belt and plugs. In one corner was a clear glassed-in booth. He helped her inside, then closed the door. Immediately, a fine mist of tepid water inundated her. It was followed by another, oily this time, she held her breath. Another mist of water was succeeded by warm air, gently swirling until she was dry. Martin opened the door for her to step out.
Now she saw herself in a mirror: most of her skin was red, covered with welts like so many crisscrossed purple ropes. Her eyes were red from crying. She looked terrible.
“I’ve been very careful not to break your beautiful skin; I did not want to see blood tonight. You look lovely, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, Martin.” She felt hideous, but was afraid of what he might do if she didn’t respond.
“You should sleep now. Come with me.”
She followed him into the dressing room, where again he had her stand on the platform. He placed a collar around her neck; thick rubber like the wrist and ankle bracelets, and clicked it closed. Then he led her over to the large bed. It was covered in black latex, like the “massage” table. There were two pillows, covered in the same material.
He took two short rubber-coated cables out of a drawer. He passed one through a ring set in the front of her collar, then asked her to raise her hands to her neck. He clipped the rings in her bracelets to the ends of the cable, then helped her to lie down. Next, he used the other cable to couple her ankle cuffs. Finally, he attached another cable, already attached to the head of the bed, to the ring in her collar. She could turn over, but would not be able to get out of the bed.
“I know you are still excited, and I wouldn’t want you to climax without my permission, nor do I want you wandering about in the night. You will sleep alone.”
“Pleasant dreams, Shelly.”
He pulled a latex sheet over her, and left the room. As he did, the lights extinguished, and the view outside disappeared as the windows became opaque.
The rubber she was sandwiched between felt hot. The odor and texture of it reminded her of her childhood, when her mom had used a similar sheet to keep her from wetting the bed.
Surrounded by darkness, she closed her eyes. Images ran through her mind: her marked body in the mirror; the raised whip; the photograph in the study; Martin’s piercing eyes.
Finally she slept.

Part 6

Shelly awoke to find the sheeting pulled back, and Martin removing the cable from her ankles. The windows were still blackened, no, she could see lights twinkling across the river. It was not yet light out.
“I know, you are used to waking at eight or nine, or even later. It’s six now, and we have much to accomplish before I leave for my office.”
He unclipped her wrist cuffs from the collar, and then took a small, flat metal plate from his pocket. He held it to the end of the cable that tethered her collar to the bed, and it fell away. He then held the plate against the back of the collar, and it sprung open with a click. He repeated the procedure with her wrists and ankles. She was free of the restraints she had worn since last night. She started to massage the spots where the cuffs had been removed.
“Stop dawdling. You should shower and wash your hair. Go in the bathroom and take care of yourself. The shower stall you used last night will respond to your voice. Ask for lukewarm water, and don’t use any soap. Your skin will still be very sensitive from being flogged, and hot water or soap would be painful. There is a very gentle shampoo which will dispense upon request. You should also ask for the body oil mist, and a warm air dry. Go ahead. I’ll be in to see you in a few moments.”
As Shelly entered the bathroom, she saw herself in the mirror. The overall redness of her skin was gone, but the lines made by the crops and switch had turned dark. Her hair was a mess. She got into the shower. Even the warm water she requested stung her, she asked for less pressure, and the shower responded. She had never imagined that such luxury could exist, under other circumstances, she might find this bath, this house, quite wonderful. Given her present condition, it seemed more of a nightmare. And yet, mixed with her memory of last night’s horrors there was a thrill, a sense of yielding: was Martin right about her?
She wondered what was to come next, and what say she would have in her own fate. She didn’t know what to do. If she continued, she would inevitably wind up on her back, on that “massage” table again, but was that so terrible? Or were there worse torments in store? If she left, she would never see him again, of that much she was sure.
And she was beginning to think she needed him...
“Have you fallen back to sleep in there? Finish up and come out here!”
She snapped out of her reverie, asked the shower for warm air. When she was dry, she stepped out.
Martin was already dressed, in a medium brown suit of a British cut. He looked every bit the high-power executive that he was. Shelly was not at ease being naked before him. It was one thing to show a bit of thigh, or even to flash your panties at someone. This was different altogether. She felt powerless, and distressed.
“It’s time for breakfast. Come downstairs. You can dress later. Here are some slippers.”
She put them on, and followed him downstairs, still naked.
They returned to the room with the river view. The lighting was low, except for a spot which fell on the small table by the window, which was set for breakfast.
Martin asked her to sit. The leather seat of the chair felt cool, but it smart as she sat, and she jumped.
He laughed. “I should have warned you. You will have to be careful for the next few days!”
Breakfast was already on the table. There was cooked cereal, juice, coffee, croissants, fresh fruit. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. As they ate, Martin began to speak once more.
“We have a great deal to discuss. For the moment, you may speak freely, I will even answer your questions, should you have any. Is there anything you have to say before I begin?”
Shelly was silent.
“All right then.”
“Last night was a beginning, also a test. I know a great deal about you, but I needed to determine if you were worthy. I will have to make a large investment of my time and resources in your education, and I do not accept failure.”
“I am pleased to say that you are acceptable. I had my doubts, but your performance, although far from flawless, shows a latent kernel of strength within. I do believe that you can succeed.”
“I have had the opportunity to review your records, from grade school on, I know, you are wondering how I have access to them. I have friends at the university.”
“Your school career demonstrates one thing quite clearly: you have enormous intelligence and aptitude, but you are lazy. You have never applied yourself at any thing you do.”
Shelly felt she had to speak up. “But school has been so boring. And you are wrong, I’ve really worked at the things that interest me, like dance and exercise...”
He cut her off. “No, my dear, you really have NOT. You have been offered all the best opportunities. When you were little, you even danced in the Nutcracker in New York. You studied with some of the finest teachers, but you remained a dilettante. You could have been an accomplished ballerina by now.”
“The same thing applies to your fitness regimen. You have achieved some level of achievement, your body is adequate, but you have never pushed yourself, never tried to test your limits. You bided your time in high school, relying on your intelligence to get you grades that were just good enough to keep your parents from complaining.”
“I bring this up only by way of explanation. Under my tutelage, and with my help, you will become more capable, better than you think you can be. It will require no mean effort on my part, but for you to flourish, you will have to work, harder than you have ever worked before. This will extend to your schoolwork, exercise, everything that you do. You will flourish: partly to please me, but more vitally; for your own fulfillment.”
“You may ask why I should bother myself with you. The only answer I can provide is that I see within you a being of enormous potential, someone whom I will eventually be pleased to be associated with. And of course, recognizing your malleability, I look forward to the process we shall undertake. I am fond of games and practices, the nature of which you have seen only a small part.”
“I know you for what you are, a true submissive. It is only by your acknowledgment of your essence that you will ever reach fulfillment, and that inherently requires that you surrender yourself to a will which is other than your own, to eagerly give yourself, body and soul, to another. I am here to assume that role.”
“It is really a fascinating paradox: by yielding, you become strong. But in truth, this is the nature of the universe.”
Martin’s words fell on her like cold rain. The storm within her raged and ebbed. He knew exactly what she was about, and it angered her. At the same time, there was nothing that he said that wasn’t completely true, and she had no defense. Her deepest fear came out: despite her protests and struggling of last night, she had wanted to be there with every fiber of her being. How could she tell him what she felt?
“Shelly, you need not say a word, I know what you are feeling right now. You want to give in to me, to be possessed by me, but you are frightened by that thought. It is all right, to be expected really. Your fear is an important tool, one which we will use to great advantage.”
They had finished breakfast, and Martin stood. He took her by the elbow, and led her to the couch, the same couch where she had first exposed herself to him, where he had first struck her. He had her sit, then brought the coffee cups from the table. He settled into a chair, facing her from a slight angle.
“Last night over dinner, I asked for your consent. I ask for it again, now that you better understand what our covenant entails. You are still free to leave, but this is the very last time that I will give you that option. If you continue from here, you will no longer be free, up until such time as I release you from your subjugation. That decision will be mine, and mine alone. You have tasted that which you may choose to feast on, but once you come to table, you will be forced to consume what is set before you, whether it pleases your palate or turns your stomach.”
“The decision I set before you is not easy, indeed, you have little idea of the limits that our relationship can reach. Nevertheless, I must have your word.”
The blood left Shelly’s face. She knew she must reply. She knew what she wanted to say, and yet the words escaped her. Finally, two words came out:
“Yes, Martin.”
“Yes, I am yours. Yours to keep in chains, yours to beat, yours to be molded, in whatever direction you choose. I give up all rights to myself, and hand them over to you.”
“That is well said, Shelly.” He took her by the hand, stood her up, and gave her a gentle hug. It was the first time that he had touched her in a manner that was not intended to inflame, and she was comforted by it.
What followed was less comforting.
“I have plans for you which must begin immediately. Let me review today’s agenda, “
“I have your class schedule here. You are taking all intro-level courses. Your midterm grades are in, and true to form, you are doing poorly. We will change all that, but I am getting ahead of myself. In any case, you are not to miss any lectures, and you are due in class today by nine, finished at two. That will work nicely.
“After classes, you will have a medical examination. Your records show that you saw your gynecologist six months ago, and have not yet found a doctor here in town. I have set up an appointment for you.”
Shelly was shocked. “But... how can I go to a doctor all marked up this way? I’ll die of embarrassment, and he’ll want to know what happened...”
Martin smiled. “Don’t concern yourself. I’ve known this practitioner for many years, and he knows me. There won’t be any questions.”
“So far, I have refrained from having any sexual contact with you, not so much as a kiss. I am careful of my health, and I won’t involve myself with any partners until I am sure that they are free from disease. In addition, I must be sure that your physical condition is adequate to withstand the training you will receive.”
“Afterward, you will return to your dormitory. In order to maintain appearances, it is important that you sleep in your room at least a few nights a week, although tonight you will stay here. Leave a note for your roommate, so that she does not become inquisitive. I will leave its composition to you, but you may inform her that you have met someone. Then, you will pack a bag with all of your undergarments: any panties, brassieres, stockings, garters and the like. You will bring them here. Pack your books and notes also.”
“Your next stop will be my office. I will not see you. You will be meeting with one of my assistants, it is his responsibility to oversee your schoolwork. He will report directly to me. When you are finished, we will both return here before dinner. I think we shall dine out tonight.”
“It is time for you to dress. Come with me.”
Shelly followed Martin back upstairs, where he led her to the bathroom.
“Your most intimate bodily functions are no longer private. There is nothing that you will be permitted to hide from me. Squat over the toilet.”
Shelly did as she was bade.
“Now, you will urinate and move your bowels. You had better take advantage of this opportunity, as it will not be repeated for many hours.”
Martin’s words bothered her: was he going to tell her when she could and could not go to the bathroom? Her fear was working against her, he was waiting for her to perform, and she could not.
“Is this your obedience?” He started towards her.
She forced herself, and finally voided her bowels and bladder.
“To your right is a bidet. Have you ever used one? It does not matter, it is automatic. Squat over it, and it will cleanse and dry you.”
She moved over to the bidet, squatted again. A gentle spray came up and cleaned her, followed by a stream of warm air.
“Now, you need to be powdered. The shower does this.”
She stepped into the stall, and heard Martin give the command to the machine. At once, she was covered in a spray of talc.
“Good, you’re ready for today’s outfit. Come to the dressing room.”
On the floor of the dressing room was a shopping bag, like you get in a department store. It hadn’t been there last night. Where did it come from, and what was inside?
“Martin? I’m going to classes. Shouldn’t I wear my jeans and leotard, like I had on yesterday?
He laughed. “Oh, you’ll be wearing jeans and a leotard, but not the ones you wore to the spa yesterday...”
She stood on the platform, and he removed some articles from a drawer.
“You have worn two types of belts since you’ve arrived. This is yet a third, a training belt. It is thin enough so that it won’t show under most clothing, but again, it contains tempered steel cables, and a magnetic locking clasp, so that you will be unable to remove it yourself. It runs around your waist, down through the middle of your cunt, and up between your buttocks. It won’t prevent you from peeing, if you need to, but there will be a plug inserted behind, so that you can’t shit, I’m afraid. The purpose of the plug is to widen your ass. You will be wearing it regularly, at least for the next few days. Since you are a virgin back there, I don’t want to damage you when I am ready to take that virginity. Now lean forward and hold still.”
He drew the belt tightly around her waist, and clicked it closed behind her. The plug this time was black rubber, only a few inches long, about two inches wide at the base. He pulled it tightly inside her ass with the center strap, which also created a tension as it separated her labia. The strap was then connected to the waist strap behind, and she heard another click as it locked in place.
He picked up the shopping bag, and removed two articles: one blue; the other, black.
“The dress shop that you visited yesterday sent this over for you. At my request, they worked into the night to produce it. I think you will be very pleased.”
He held them up for her to see. The black one was a top, with long sleeves and a high neck. The blue item was pants. Both were made of highly polished latex. He handed her the pants first.
“These are molded and cut to your exact measurements, and will fit like a glove. Pull them on carefully.”
She bunched up the rubber, pulled one pant leg over her foot, then the other, and eased them up over her calves and thighs. They were high-waisted, with a short zipper at the front. She started to zip them up when Martin stopped her.
“Don’t close them yet, first put on the top.”
He handed her the black rubber top, and she pulled it over her arms, then put her head through, and slid it down over her breasts. It was like a second skin, very thin yet opaque, and it followed her every curve.
“The top fastens to your belt. Here, I’ll show you.”
There were tiny clasps on the sides. He pulled the latex taut, and connected it to little rings in the sides of the belt. Then he closed a zipper behind her neck. It made a clicking sound, like the belt had made when he closed it.
“Does this lock too?” she wanted to know.
“Yes, you can’t remove it yourself.”
He closed the zipper of the pants, and then snapped the waistband shut.
“Of course, the pants have a locking waistband, once again with steel cables running through. You won’t be able to remove them, but there is a control mounted inside, which can be activated remotely. It allows you to slide the pants down if I want to let you pee. You won’t be able to take the pants off completely though, because the ankles also lock on.”
With that, he bent down and closed the clasps at each ankle.
She looked in the mirror. She was covered from neck to ankle, and yet the thin latex hid nothing. Her breasts, including the nipples, were perfectly defined. The pants came up between her butt cheeks, and outlined her pussy lips. You could see everything. She even made out the line of the cable that ran from front to back. In fact the only thing this second skin concealed was the marks on her flesh.
“But Martin, I can’t possibly wear this outside, certainly not to school! Everyone will stare!”
“Yes, they will stare. And you will have to learn enough poise to withstand it.”
He went to the bag once more, and took out a pair of black shoes, with pointed toes, four inch stiletto heels, and a t-strap at the ankle.
“These lock right on to the pants. The craftsmen at the shop have really outdone themselves. You will create a most alluring sight.”
She put on the shoes.
“For the moment, these heels are the highest I will ask you to wear outside, until you can carry yourself gracefully. Then you may advance to truly exquisite footwear.”
“Your appearance is pleasing, however, there are few finishing touches. First, your hair is a mess. Allow me.”
He brushed out her hair, and taking a long black latex cord from the bag, braided it into her hair, and brought the braid to a knot at the top of her head.
“You have a dancer’s neck, and you should show it, besides, it will highlight the earrings.”
He took a jewelry box from the bag, opened it. Inside were a pair of earrings, and a choker. They were all in blue latex, which matched the blue of her pants. He picked up the choker, and snapped it just above the neckline of her costume: At the front of her throat it displayed the letter “S,” in red. Next came the earrings: like large fishing weights, covered in rubber...
“They look so heavy!”
“They are, my dear. When we first met at the club, I was pleased to see that your ears were pierced: it saves us the trouble of having it done, although I may desire additional piercing in the future. These earrings are special. The shop takes real lead fishing-line weights, and coats them in beautiful shades of latex. The ear wires which attach them are a wonderful design. They lock in place.”
He put them on her. She could feel the weight, pulling at her earlobes.
“Now, swing your head: yes, that’s lovely!” Martin chuckled, sarcastically. “These are only a few ounces. You should see the larger ones!”
Shelly wondered how her ears would feel by the end of the day...
“You are almost ready. They have sent over a bag for you.”
It was a backpack, almost identical in shape to the one that she took to classes everyday, but made of bright red vinyl.
“Inside you will find notebooks, pens and pencils for your lecture notes, and a very small two way radio. The radio, no larger than a beeper, has a hundred mile range. It permits me to stay in contact with you anywhere in the area: you will carry it with you at all times.”
“I failed to mention this earlier: the belt you are wearing contains a radio as well. I told you that your pants waist closure could be operated by remote control. In fact, it is a relay within the belt which works it. The belt transmits a radio signal which permits me to locate you, within an accuracy of fifty feet of so, anywhere in the world, so it is impossible for you to hide from me. The belt can also receive signals which control a number of features, including the waist closure and a few others that you will shortly discover.”
“John will be picking me up shortly. I will call a taxi for you, to take you to the university. Close the door behind you, it will lock itself. If you need anything, you may reach my office on your radio. John will be in front of the university chapel at ten after two, to take you to your doctor’s appointment.”
Martin started to leave. Shelly wanted to stop him, to tell him that she had changed her mind, that she couldn’t go through with it...
She followed him downstairs. She tried to run after him, but found that she was unsteady, could not move quickly in her shoes. By the time she made it to the foyer, he was closing the door behind him.

Part 7

Shelly watched out a window as Martin descended the front stoop, opened the door of the waiting Rolls, and drove off.
She was alone in the house. A clock by the door read ten after eight; almost an hour before class. She was at a loss for what to do.
She wandered back upstairs to the bedroom and into the dressing room. She found herself looking in the mirror. She wondered how many others had been here before, chained, whipped, forced to surrender, but had she been forced?
Martin had been completely candid with her. He had not revealed all the details of his plans for her (and that made her more than a little anxious) but he was unequivocal about the nature of his demands. She was simply to be his chattel, to surrender unconditionally all personal freedom, to be controlled by him.
He had not kidnapped her or held her against her will. She had agreed to stay, consented to the covenant that bound her.
And yet, she felt chaos within. How could she have ever allowed herself to give up everything to this man? He surely intended to humiliate her, to cause her to suffer anguish both mental and physical. Last night’s performance left her no doubts in that regard, she still bore the proof upon her flesh.
She was still standing before the mirror. She noticed the choker she wore, the red letter “S” it sported. As Martin was fastening it around her neck, she had thought of her name. Just now, she realized the ambiguity of it: perhaps it stood for “Slave,” or “Submissive,” or “Slut:” certainly, all three meanings were accurate.
She picked up the red bag, slung it over her shoulder. Anyone seeing her in the street looking like this would have just one thought about what she was...
A car horn sounded from the street. Shelly went downstairs, looked out the front window. A yellow cab was pulled up in front of the house.
Suddenly, she was turned to stone: she pictured herself walking into the lecture hall, all eyes glued to her every move. She wanted to become invisible, to vanish into nothingness. She heard the cabby honk again.
Her arm opened the door, her legs carried her past the portal. She heard the door close behind her, heard the lock engage, saw her legs walk down the steps, saw a rubber-clad mannequin get into the cab.
Her dream was disturbed by an annoying sound:
“Where to, lady?”

Part 8

She gave the address to the cab driver, who was staring at her in the rear-view mirror. He leered.
“You must have gotten lucky last night. Anybody who lives in a house like that can afford to be generous.”
Shelly felt herself blushing. She had no response, she just looked out the window as the taxi headed towards Kenmore Square.
The cabby wanted to talk. “Have you heard this one? A guy gets into a cab at Logan airport. Says to the driver, ‘I’ve never been to Boston before, but I’ve heard a lot about it. Can you take me someplace where I can get scrod?’ The cabby says, ‘Mister, I’ve been asked that question a thousand times before, but never in the past pluperfect!’ Heehee, great, isn’t it? Scrod, you get it?”
Shelly was starting to feel like this was all a mistake. Why hadn’t Martin sent John to drive her? Finally the cab stopped by the B.U. campus. Shelly realized she didn’t have any money for the fare.
“The dispatcher tells me this ride is on a company tab, but I have a few minutes if you want to leave me a nice tip...”
Shelly opened the door and fled the cab like it was on fire. She ran up the stairs to the lecture hall.
When she got inside, she was glad to see the place mostly empty. It must still be early for her class. She went in, started to take a seat in the back near the door. Then she realized that everyone would see her as they came in. She moved down, took a seat in the middle and away from the aisle. As she sat down, she felt the plug in her rear, remembered what Martin had said when he locked the belt in place.
She tried to busy herself, opening her bag and arranging the pens and notebooks that he had supplied.
“Shelly, is that you?”
Oh no. She knew that voice. She looked up to see her roommate bounding towards her.
“Oh, hi! Where were you last night? I wanted to have dinner with you. You never came in at all, did you, you naughty thing! I should call your folks. And what IS that you’re wearing?
Shelly had forgotten that Marybeth was taking this class too. She had to think fast.
“Oh, Marybeth, you’ll never believe the party I went to. I was invited at the last minute, and I couldn’t find you. A bunch of medical students from Tufts. This guy invited me, and it went late, and they were all so drunk no one could drive me, and the T was closed, and well... I slept on the floor. Do you like my new running suit? It’s the latest craze in New York, my mom sent it up.”
Marybeth was so out of it, she would believe anything...
“It’s a little, sort of, revealing, isn’t it? Of course, I wish I had your figure. I could never wear something like that. But don’t you think it’s a tiny bit much for class?”
“I suppose, but I didn’t get back to the room this morning.”
“Oh, you ARE a bad girl, aren’t you? I see Billy just came in. I’ll see you later.”
This was going better than she’d expected. Marybeth was such an airhead. Mary did say one thing that was right about her. She was a bad girl, and it looked like things were going to get worse.
Class had not yet started, but the room was filling up. Shelly heard a persistent beeping. Then she realized it was coming from her bag! She didn’t want to answer the radio call right there, but she didn’t want to leave the room either. She half-ducked under the desk, picked up the radio. It was like one of those tiny new cellular phones. It stopped beeping when she flipped open the mouthpiece.
She held it to her ear, heard Martin’s voice: “Hello, Shelly?”
“Uh, hello.”
“You will have to respond more quickly to my call in the future. You are in class?”
“Yes, and it starts in a few minutes.”
“I’m aware of your schedule. I had forgotten to mention one thing this morning, a little detail about the belt. Are you seated?”
Just as she spoke, a thrill of sensuality tore through her. She almost dropped the radio. She was on the verge of orgasm when it stopped, as quickly as it had begun.
“The belt has similar capacity to pleasure as the one you wore last night. I’ll demonstrate one other feature after I break the channel. Have a good class now, good-bye.”
The radio went dead, and she put it back in the bag. A few seconds later, a terrible pain started to build within her. It became more and more intense, and she clenched her teeth, tensed her muscles against it. It was as if she was being struck by a thousand whips, all over, all at once: she needed to scream, didn’t dare. The pain began to ebb. Her heart was pounding, she was covered in cold sweat under the rubber.
She realized that while she wore the belt, Martin could manipulate her even when she wasn’t with him. What use did he have in mind, why had he put it on her?
The professor entered the hall, started to lecture.
They were studying American history. It was one of those survey courses that all freshmen are forced to endure, she had seen it all before, although she had never bothered to study for exams, or do more than superficial research for assignments.
Today’s discussion involved the period just before the civil war, and how the northern abolitionists helped the slaves flee their southern masters. Shelly wondered if there was an underground railway for her, but did she want to escape?
When the class was over, she left quickly. She had another class, a block away. She walked with her head down; she could sense the eyes of other students, men and women, watching her. Did Martin intend that she dress like this all the time, and if so, would she ever learn enough assurance to meet their glances?
Luckily, Shelly made it through the rest of the morning without too much embarrassment. She didn’t meet anyone else she knew, and although she could feel the stares, no one approached her.
It was noon, and her next class began at one. While at Martin’s she’d had two cups of coffee, and the urge to pee was becoming quite urgent, especially since the plug she wore created additional pressure down there. She didn’t know what to do, then remembered the radio. She took it from her bag, opened it up and held it to her ear. She heard a sound like a ringing in the ear piece, then it stopped and a woman’s voice said, “Hello, Ms. Levine.”
It wasn’t Martin! Then she realized the voice she heard was his secretary’s.
“Oh, a, hello. Martin told me to use this if I needed anything.”
“Of course, but you can’t speak with him right now. Mr. Johnson is in a meeting.”
Shelly didn’t want to tell her what she needed, but the urgent pressure changed her mind. “I... I have to PEE!”
She heard a laugh from the other end. “I understand, dear. You will get a signal releasing the waistband at ten of one.”
“But it’s only twelve now! That’s almost an hour! I’m going to explode.”
“Sorry, but Mr. Johnson left explicit instructions.” The radio went dead.
The fifty minutes became an eternity. She tried walking, sitting, she even went in to the bookstore to look around. Nothing helped. She could not take her mind off the pressure in her bladder, which seemed to increase with each passing moment. She realized that she wasn’t wearing a watch.
She walked towards her next class; there was a clock in the entrance, and a bathroom down the hall. The clock read twelve forty-eight. She wasn’t too late! She ran the hallway to the ladies’ room, ran right into the door. It was locked! An “Out of Order” sign was posted. The men’s room was next door, she went in, dashed into a stall. As she closed the door, she felt the catch on her pants open. She pulled at the zipper, then remembered her long nails, and gently eased the pants down around her ankles and sat. The seat was all wet, but she didn’t care.
It seemed as though she’d had twelve cups of coffee. The pee streamed out of her, finally relieving the urgency within. When she was done, she took wads of tissue and dried herself off, then pulled her pants up, it was a little harder now, because they were sweaty inside. She zipped them up, and was about to close the catch when she thought better of it. She could leave them open, it wouldn’t really show, and close them before Martin could find out.
She opened the stall door. Although there were a few guys at the urinals, and a couple washing their hands, no one noticed her. She found that interesting, guys don’t look at each other while they’re peeing.
She was walking toward the classroom when the burning sensation began, coming in quick pulses. It stopped her in her tracks. She then grasped one of the possible uses of the belt. She closed the catch at her waist, and the pains stopped.
At ten after two, she was standing in front of the chapel, trying unsuccessfully to look inconspicuous. The day had turned colder, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stay warm. At last the Rolls pulled up, and she got in.
• end of Part 8

( I am pleased to have received some comments from interested readers. More would be welcome, by forum message or e-mail.) -edwardo

Part 9

John turned and smiled at her. “Good afternoon, Ms. Levine. I hope your classes went well today. Right now, I’m to take you to Dr. Pudenda’s office. We’ll be taking the Pike.”
Shelly settled into the seat as the car headed for Brighton and the Mass Pike. They headed west out of town, took the exit for West Newton. She had not been to this neighborhood, and it was lovely. Big old homes, mansions really, set back from tree-lined streets. They pulled in the driveway of one of the houses. There was a shingle out at the street: “Rajeshri Pudenda, M.D., F.A.C.S., S.P.C.A.” and underneath, “gynecology, micturition, plastic surgery, excoriation.” Shelly didn’t know what all the words meant, but he sure sounded like a specialist.
He was.
John said, “You can go in, they’ll call me when you are finished.”
There was a side entrance with the doctor’s name repeated above it. The door was open, she went inside to find herself in a reception room, at least it looked like a reception room because there were uncomfortable-looking chairs and old magazines. That was where the similarity ended. The walls were decorated with displays of old surgical tools, an amazing array of enema bags and hoses, and an even more extraordinary collection of antique whips, crops, and paddles. There was a shelf with jars full of, ugh, leeches. What had Martin delivered her into?
A nurse walked in. “Ms. Levine? Good, the doctor is expecting you. I’m Nurse Drub. Please come with me.”
The nurse turned, Shelly followed. The woman’s white uniform was like many Shelly had seen before, with one major difference. It was made entirely of rubber.
She was taken to a small exam room, where the nurse asked her to undress. Shelly looked at the floor.
“I, I can’t.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’d forgotten. I’ll be right back.”
When she returned, she was holding a little metal plate, exactly like the one Martin had used to remove her belts, cuffs and collar. She unlocked Shelly’s choker, her top, pants, and shoes.
“You can take everything off.”
She waited until Shelly was naked, except for the belt and crotch strap, and then unlocked those.
“You can go without the belt for now. We’ll put it back when you’re done. Have you known Mr. Johnson long?”
Shelly had no idea how much this woman knew about her or her association with Martin. “Just a few days.”
Nurse Drub nodded. “You must be a fast worker. I’ve known him for years. He must be quite enamored of you, to treat you so kindly in such a short time. The crop marks on your skin are most attractive.”
Shelly was red with shame, could not speak. Whatever did she mean, “treat you so kindly?” If this was kind treatment...
“We have no time to waste. You are due for a full physical, mammogram, blood work, internal exam. Let’s get started. Sit here (she pointed to a wooden chair) and we can start with a few questions.”
“At what age did you first menstruate?”
“And when did you first have intercourse?”
“I was seventeen.”
“Oh, a late bloomer! How many sexual partners have you had?”
Shelly didn’t have to think long. “Seven.”
“So few! Have you ever had sex with a woman?”
Shelly was beginning to wonder what this had to do with her health. She answered, “No, and the idea makes me sick.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Have you engaged in anal sex?”
“Oral sex, either given or received?”
“No need to get excited, dear, I was just asking. What method of birth control do you use?”
“Please sign these forms. One gives us permission to request your medical history from your previous physician. The other gives us the right to release the results of today’s exam to Mr. Johnson.”
After Shelly signed both papers, Nurse Drub stood up, and took her by the elbow. She led Shelly to a room with mammography equipment.
“Stand here, place your breasts, lovely! -- right here, it takes but a moment.”
“Now, have a seat here, I need to draw blood.”
Shelly felt faint while vial after vial of blood was taken.
“Now come with me. The doctor will see you now.”
Shelly was pale, and a little light-headed as she followed the nurse. They entered a room with an exam table, the kind with stirrups, like that she had seen in her own doctor’s office in Westchester, but the table top was stainless steel.
“Be a good girl and hop up on the table.” The voice had an accent, she turned and saw a short Indian man, with white hair. He looked to be in his sixties.
“I am Doctor Pudenda, you can call me Doctor Raj.” It came out sounding like “Rash.”
“Mr. Johnson called and arranged your visit. An enchanting man, isn’t he? A long acquaintance of mine. We don’t want to keep him waiting, do we?”
Shelly sat on the table, which was freezing cold. The doctor proceeded to poke and prod her, listen to her heart, chest and back with a frigid stethoscope. He took her blood pressure, checked her reflexes, rudely palpated her breasts.
“Please be good enough to lie back now, put your feet in the stirrups.”
When she was lying down, the nurse fastened broad straps across her shoulders and waist, and straps around her ankles. She heard a snapping sound: the doctor was putting on gloves. Then he walked over to a small refrigerator, opened it and took out a large speculum.
As he inserted it, Shelly gasped.
The internal exam was painful. Doctor Raj was not the least bit gentle. Before he was done, he had thrust his hand inside her; taken a smear, quite roughly; pulled at and examined her labia and pinched her clit. She was measured for a diaphragm as well. This was a doctor? The walls were covered with diplomas and credentials, but Shelly began to doubt if any of them were real. The straps were released at last, she was permitted to sit up.
They took an EKG, measured her lung capacity, took skin and hair samples. The nurse held a basin for her:
“Pee in here. We need a specimen.”
Shelly urinated while both nurse and doctor watched.
At length, they were finished. Shelly was returned to the first exam room, where she bent over and Nurse Drub reattached her belt and plug.
“You are so narrow, well, it is only a matter of time.”
Shelly dressed in her latex suit, put her shoes back on. The doctor walked in, slapped her on the rump.
“A pleasure meeting you, Shelly. I look forward to seeing you again. Give my regards to Mr. Johnson, you can tell him we will have all the test results in a few days. Here, have this filled in town.” He handed her a prescription for birth control pills, then left the room.
Shelly wanted to know why the birth control pills if she had just been fit with a diaphragm?
Nurse Drub answered: “I’m sure Mr. Johnson will explain, dear.”
She escorted Shelly back to the waiting room, said, “You can sit here until your ride comes” and was gone.

Part 10

On the trip back to town, John pointed out the refrigerator in the back of the Rolls, told her to help herself. Inside there was champagne, assorted juices, and a variety of beers. She helped herself to a Samuel Adams, and sat back in the plush leather. She began to daydream.
She was strapped on Dr. Pudenda’s exam table, her legs spread and raised. Nurse Drub entered, carrying a jar. She opened the jar, removing the biggest leech Shelly had ever seen...
The Rolls hit a bump, almost knocking the beer out of Shelly’s hand.
“Sorry back there,” said John.
Shelly sat up, spent the rest of the ride looking out the window.
They pulled up in front of Shelly’s dorm. “Don’t be long, we’re due at Mr. Johnson’s office in twenty-five minutes, and the traffic is unpredictable this time of day.”
Up in her room, Shelly put her textbooks, and the few notes she had taken, into the red backpack. Then she opened her drawers and closet, and made a pile on her bed: all of her panties, including the g-strings and thongs, her garter belts, stockings, bras, she added her bustier, that she’d bought when she wanted to dress like Madonna. She wondered if she should include her thermal underwear, threw it on the pile. She took a small flight bag and stuffed everything in.
She sat down to write a note to Marybeth:
One of the med students from last night called me. He’s really cute,
and sweet, I think you’d like him. I’ll be seeing him again tonight.
Maybe he has a friend!
Don’t wait up for me, I’ll see you tomorrow.
Love, Shelly
That ought to do it. She picked up the backpack and bag, went back down to the ground floor where the car was waiting. They headed downtown.
Martin’s offices occupied the top three floors of a large office building overlooking Faneuil Hall and the harbor. She crossed through the lobby, avoiding the stares of the businessmen and secretaries passing in and out. There was a private elevator marked “Johnson Enterprises”, she got in and went to the top floor.
Shelly stepped out into an entryway that reminded her of Martin’s house, all high-tech and plush. A well-endowed young receptionist noticed her, and motioned to her to approach.
“Ms. Levine? Doctor Wu is expecting you. Wait here and I’ll page him.”
The girl pushed a button on her console, spoke into her headset.
A moment later, a middle-aged Chinese man in a suit rounded the corner and came up to her.
“Ms. Shelly Levine, I presume. I am Doctor Charles Wu. Call me Charley.”
“Please come to my office.” Shelly walked with him. “You have brought all your books and assignments? Good. Mr. Johnson has briefed me. I will be instructing you on study technique. Before I joined Johnson Enterprises, I was a professor of psychology at Harvard.”
They arrived at his office, which was filled with bookshelves. There were two desks, uncluttered, with computer screens and keyboards on both. There was also a couch and coffee table. He gestured toward the couch and asked her to sit.
Dr. Wu took Shelly’s red bag from her and spread her books out on the table.
“I’ve had a chance to look over your course load. Not too challenging, yet you will manage to flunk out if you don’t start paying some attention to your studies. Your test scores show exceptional aptitude, so I must assume that you simply don’t do any work.”
“You are currently enrolled in freshman history, French, English literature and intro economics. A well-rounded if modest selection. Your difficulty lies in your indolence. I can see from the condition of these brand-new textbooks that you haven’t bothered to open even one. This makes my task fairly simple, if potentially dull, of course, working with Mr. Johnson is never dull—all I need do is provide you with motivation to study, a process I understand Mr. J has already begun, and point you in the right direction.”
“One of my responsibilities here is staff training. We use a programmed learning system, with a schedule of rewards and penalties. You will do the same, with some slight variation. Your required readings, research paper assignments, and other course work will be loaded in our database, and daily work assigned on an increasing gradient as you become more proficient. The computer will monitor your progress with quizzes and other assessments at regular intervals, and will either reward or penalize you on the spot. It is a very effective system.”
“Here, let me demonstrate. Have you used a computer before? Have a seat at this keyboard, type your name and then hit enter.”
She typed “Shelly Levine” and pressed the return key. The computer screen jumped to life, flashing in large letters, “HELLO SHELLY!” Then a line of type appeared: “What is your best subject?”
Charley said, “Go ahead, type in a response.”
Shelly typed “French.” The screen responded. “Very good Shelly, let me ask you a few questions.”
The machine continued. “Parlez-vous Francais?”
Shelly typed “Oui, un peu.” The machine responded, “Tres bon.”
Just as the lines on the screen appeared, Shelly felt a small tingle of pleasure pass through her. She looked at Charley, who nodded.
“The system is hooked into the radio control for your belt. Please continue.”
Another line of text appeared on the screen: “Please conjugate the verb, ‘etre’.”
Shelly sat there, looking at the monitor. She knew the verb, but conjugation was not her strong point. A moment passed, and another line appeared: “Too bad, Shelly.”
She felt an intense burning within her. It stopped after a few seconds.
Charley spoke again, “You will see that the reinforcement program is extremely effective. When you do well, you get a pleasant reward. When you foul up, you are chastised. The intensity of the sensation is commensurate with your relative degree of success or failure.”
“You will not be working here. There are terminals at Mr. J’s place that you can use, and he has thoughtfully provided you with a laptop system, which can connect to the telephone line in your dorm room, or by cellular radio should you be elsewhere, such as the library. The program will require that you complete certain assignments each day, in a certain time allotment, and that you log on each day to receive and be evaluated on those assignments. It is a very simple, yet effective study aid.” He handed her a small portable computer.
Shelly was dumfounded. This machine was to be her keeper, keeping track of her time and work, and meting out pleasure and pain as it saw fit? It was diabolical. She felt overwhelmed, bound to an inescapable master, this was much more than she had bargained for.

Part 11

Sitting in Dr. Wu, Charley’s, office, Shelly felt a churning within her. It was one thing to be under Martin’s control, to be toyed with and abused by his strong hands and will. She was not yet used to the idea of it, but the excitement it created within her was not to be denied. The thought of being governed by a mindless machine made her feel desperate, made her want to run away.
“The good doctor tells me you have been briefed.”
It was Martin, who had just walked in.
“You can pack up your books now. I see you’ve got your laptop. Please be careful with it. We’ll be going now.”
He took a few moments to talk to Charley, thanked him. Then he started to leave. Shelly picked up her bag and new computer, and ran to catch up with him. They took the elevator back to the lobby, and exited a side door, into an alley where John and the Rolls were waiting.
They returned to Martin’s house, where he immediately took her up to the dressing room. He unlocked the fasteners on her choker and clothing, had her undress. Then he attached the rubber bracelets and ankle cuffs she had worn the day before, and removed her belt and plug.
“You’re all sweaty. Come with me.”
Shelly found herself being tethered to the bathtub once again. After adjusting the spray heads and other fixtures, Martin began teasing her, with short bursts of almost scalding water. After a few minutes of this she was getting excited. Now Martin began in earnest, increasing the heat and intensity.
“Last night, you didn’t last very long in here. Each time you return, I will increase the pressure, temperature and time. I certainly appreciate the reaction it produces. Remember though, if you cry out, it can quickly become much more painful.”
The stinging in her breasts and belly shortly became unbearable. She wanted to scream, knew what would happen if she did.
Suddenly, Martin stuffed a vibrator in her. The burning continued, the device inside her drove her crazy. She could not contain herself, she came, shrieking.
The water and vibrations stopped instantly, the vibrator removed.
“There will be a punishment for that outcry later. For now, get in the shower.”
Martin untied her. She lay in the tub, panting. He pulled her up by the arm, slapped her rudely on her behind, and dragged her into the shower. The water which streamed at her from all sides was freezing cold. She asked for warmth, but it did not respond. After a moment, the water stopped and was replaced by cold air jets. Ultimately she was dry, chilled to the bone. Martin opened the door and she stepped out. He took her back to the dressing room.
“We will be having an early dinner. I have an urge for Chinese food, and there is a wonderful restaurant in Lexington. Their Szechwan and Hunan cuisine is beyond compare.”
“Up to now, you have dressed in latex rubber, a remarkable substance. I am also fond of other materials, especially leather, silk, and steel. I think you will find your attire for the evening captivating.”
He removed her cuffs, and fastened a wide leather belt at her waist, which had leather garters attached, and three small chains; two in front, about eight inches apart, and one in the center behind. He took a metal plug and worked it into her rear, then attached the three chains to it. One followed the furrow of her behind, the two in front on either side of the outer labia. This plug was much larger than the one she had been wearing, and she had difficulty accommodating it.
He handed her a blouse of black silk, which buttoned up the front. As she put it on, she realized it was semi-transparent, and if you looked closely, you could make out her nipples, and the dark stripes across her breasts. Next were long black stockings, which came to the tops of her thighs. She attached the garters to them. The outfit was completed by a tight black glove leather miniskirt, with a high, narrow waistline, extremely short. It stopped just a few inches below her buttocks. It had two full-length zippers front and rear, which opened from the bottom. For her feet, black pumps, with four and a half-inch heels and ankle straps that closed with small padlocks. There were also earrings which consisted of another pair of padlocks, and a leather choker, with a repeat of the red letter “S” that she had worn all day. The choker closed with a padlock in front, just under the monogram.
“It’s very interesting, this mode of dress has become so mainstream lately, virtually no one will think it unusual. You should let your hair fall free.”
Martin waited while Shelly undid the braid in her hair, and brushed it out. It cascaded a third of the way down her back. Then he gave her a tube of lipstick. She applied it, a very bright red. She considered the image in the mirror: was it more biker babe, punk rocker, or hooker?
He helped her into a short leather jacket, of the same soft leather as the skirt, then handed her leather gloves.
“You look fine this way, although I can envision some improvements. That will be attended to shortly. Let’s go, we’ll return here after we eat.”
Martin helped Shelly into the car. She was having some difficulty walking. She had almost figured out how to move in the heels she had worn all day, but these were higher. She sat down and crossed her legs. Martin sat next to her.
“I have avoided mandating more restrictions on your behavior to this point, to allow you to assimilate the instruction provided so far. You have performed acceptably. It is time to accelerate your training.”
“First, you will uncross, and spread your legs.”
“I abhor repeating myself. Therefore, I suggest you take notes. Open the laptop, enter the word processor, and create a file entitled: “Shelly’s rules of conduct.”
He waited a moment for her to get ready, then began. Here is the list he gave her:

1. Martin Johnson may be referred to as “Martin” in private, but only as “Mr. Johnson” whenever there are others present, unless otherwise instructed.
2. When in Martin Johnson’s presence, Shelly will not speak, except to answer direct questions, unless otherwise instructed.
3. Shelly Levine’s clothing, make-up, jewelry, hair style and other aspects of appearance will be decided solely by Martin Johnson at all times.
4. Any command or instruction given to Shelly by Mr. Johnson, or any agent he has assigned, will be carried out immediately and to the best of her ability. In Mr. Johnson’s absence, his assigned representative(s) will be considered to have the same authority as Martin Johnson himself. This includes, but is not limited to: Dr. Wu; Dr. Pudenda; John Jefferson, Mr. Johnson’s driver; Verna Simpson, director of the spa; Cheryl Cunningham, Mr. Johnson’s personal secretary. Other agents may be identified at any time by Martin Johnson, or by presenting documents of introduction stating authority and signed by Mr. Johnson or his agent.
5. Shelly Levine agrees that Martin Johnson may handle or treat her in any way he sees fit, including bondage, torture, and humiliation both private and public.
6. Shelly Levine is henceforth never to cross her legs or press them together. A minimum distance of twelve inches from the inside of one knee to the other will be maintained at all times, unless instructed otherwise.
7. Shelly Levine is never to close her lips completely, except when chewing.
8. Shelly Levine is to refrain from smoking, drinking alcoholic beverages, taking licit or illicit drugs, except at the specific instruction of Martin Johnson.
9. This list is not to be construed as superseding any command given by Martin Johnson at any time.
10. Additional rules may be added to this list at any time, at Martin Johnson’s behest.

Martin was quite used to giving dictation: Shelly struggled to keep up with him. Finally she was done typing. They had arrived at the restaurant.
As they entered, Martin had Shelly hand her jacket and gloves to the coat-check. They were brought to a small table in a corner by the front window. Shelly was careful as she sat, to be sure that her knees were far enough apart. Martin sat next to her, facing the other diners.
Menus were brought. Martin asked her if she had any favorite dishes.
“I really like mu-shu pork.”
“All right, we can have that. There are a few other dishes I want you to sample as well.”
Martin did the ordering. As he was speaking to the waiter, he unzipped the front of Shelly’s skirt, and moved her legs wider. Then he put his hand on her cunt. There was no tablecloth. Could the waiter, could any of the other diners see her exposure? She looked at Martin, who smiled warmly as he ordered the meal.
Course after course was brought, each more delicious than the one before. She had never tasted such marvelous cuisine. Martin ate with chopsticks, using one hand while the other remained on her crotch. Shelly enjoyed the food, but had some trouble eating. She was trying not to yield to the hand between her legs, and at the same time worried that someone might be watching.
“Be careful of this next dish, unless you are accustomed to hot red peppers. They prepare this specially to my taste, beef and vegetables, in a garlic sauce swimming in chilies.”
Shelly tried the dish, and found her mouth instantly ablaze. She finished her water glass in one gulp, but the fire still burned.
Martin laughed, “Eat some rice. It is the only thing which will remove the heat from your palate.”
Shelly tried the rice, found that Martin was right. Still, her eyes watered and beads of perspiration formed on her brow.
“I see that you will have to acquire some tolerance for this if we are to dine together. Your response has given me a piquant idea. I had been wondering how I might discipline you for your outburst in the tub.”
With his left hand, that had been fondling her, he picked a large hot pepper from the sauce, parted her labia, and slipped it inside her.
At first, Shelly thought she was okay. Martin’s little joke had failed. After a moment, a burning, itching sensation began, becoming quickly stronger. Shelly looked at Martin, who was deftly eating mouthfuls of beef and rice with his chopsticks, and simultaneously fingering her clit.
“You will keep that chili inside you for the rest of the meal. I’ll decide later if you may remove it.”
Shelly squirmed in her seat, only to have Martin’s hand grab her clit and squeeze it roughly.
“Sit still and finish your dinner. If you can’t keep your composure, you will certainly find reason to writhe when we return to town.”
The meal was over for Shelly. It was all she could do to keep from jumping out of her seat, between the blaze inside her, and Martin’s insistent fingers rolling her clit like a marble in oil. She tried not to let her discomfort/arousal show as the waiter brought orange slices and fortune cookies for dessert, and Martin sipped green tea.
“Let me read your fortune for you, since you seem to be having a bit of difficulty.” Martin broke open one of the cookies, and read aloud the slip of paper within: “You are going to meet someone who will change your life.”
Shelly knew she already had.

Part 12

Martin paid the bill with a platinum card.
“Close your skirt, we’ll be going. Be careful not to lose that chili.” He grinned.
Shelly zipped the skirt together and Martin helped her to her feet. The waiter brought her jacket, held it while she slipped it on.
Back in the car, Martin asked Shelly if she had enjoyed the meal.
“Oh yes, the food was delicious. But please, Martin, this pepper inside me is unbearable.”
“You have just violated two rules. First, I did not ask you about the chili pepper. Second, in John’s presence you should refer to me as ‘Mr. Johnson’. I’m going to ignore both transgressions for the moment.”
He unzipped the front of her skirt again, reached into her and withdrew the pepper, dripping with her juices. He held it to her lips.
“Eat it.”
“I, I can’t.”
He forced her jaw apart with one hand, put the chili on the back of her tongue. It made her gag.
“Swallow it.”
She had no other choice. She swallowed. It burned the back of her throat, and on her tongue was the mixture of the hot oil, and the pungent taste of her own secretions. She was disgusted by the thought of it, felt nauseous.
“I am not at all surprised to find that you have a few taboos. One most important aspect of your training will be to discover that which you find abhorrent, and by dint of repeated exposure, render you impervious. Those acts for which you now have the most profound disgust, you will soon perform without hesitation. Indeed, you will find that the most scurrilous behavior will provide you with intense pleasure.”
Shelly had imagined being taken, realized that he intended to invade her behind, he had said that was the reason for the plug. She had envisioned herself bound, abused in many ways. Many of the images created great excitement within her.
She had not even considered that she might be asked to perform, that her pact with Martin would require not only that she submit to whatever he wanted to do to her, but that she agree to participate. There had been a few boys who had wanted her to use her mouth, one who tried to force her. She had always managed to avoid it. Now she realized that Martin was doubtless going to ask the same, and she would have no chance of refusing. But enjoy it? Never!
“Perhaps you think my intention is to destroy your will and self-esteem. If so, you are incorrect. Only by exploiting your weakness will you ever become strong. Only by doing that which your mind says you cannot, will you discover that all is possible.”
“Besides, you’re just a tight-assed, uptight little cock teaser from Westchester, and it will give me great joy to see how far I can push you! You’re really in for it, you know.”
Martin leaned over and kissed Shelly on the cheek. He had never kissed her. She was completely flustered, no longer knew what to make of anything. Was this part of his plan?
Back at Martin’s house, he took her to the first floor room overlooking the river, asked her to sit on the couch, and told her he would return in a moment. When he came back, he was carrying a brushed aluminum case and a camera tripod.
He set up the tripod in front of the couch, opened the case and removed a large video camera and light, which he set on the tripod and aimed towards Shelly.
“Video screen down.”
At his words, a large projection screen, maybe twelve feet across, rolled down out of the ceiling in front of the window. He took a cable from the case, and connected it first to the camcorder, then to a wall receptacle beside the couch. He turned on the video light, then the camera. Instantly Shelly was presented with her image, filling the screen across the room, much larger than life.
“There are some questions I want you to answer, and some additional rules and information I will give you. Since this will all be recorded, you don’t need to make notes. Later you may review the tape and add any necessary details to your computer file.”
“State your name and age.”
“Shelly Levine, twenty-one.”
“You have on too many clothes. Take off your jacket and gloves. Good. Now, remove your blouse, slowly. Unzip your skirt and take it off. Spread your legs wider.”
Shelly saw herself in the screen as she complied. She saw her ample breasts, covered with marks. She saw her spread thighs, her open, hairless sex. She wondered why it was necessary for her to watch herself, and what Martin was going to do with the tape.
“First, a lesson in anatomy, and in my preferred terminology for parts of the body. You should watch the screen.”
He took a small laser pointer from the case, and aimed it towards her chest.
“What are those?”
“My breasts.”
“From now on, call them tits. What are they?”
“My tits.”
He aimed the pointer lower.
“This is your belly. Say it.”
“My belly.”
“What is between your legs?”
“My vagina.”
“That is incorrect anatomically, and also not what you will call it. It’s your cunt. Repeat.”
“My cunt.”
He asked her to spread the lips with both hands, then changed the shot to a close-up.
“Those are your cunt-lips. In between is your clit and your fuck-hole. Yes?”
“My cunt-lips, clit, fuck-hole.”
Shelly was astounded to her herself saying these words.
“You are sitting on your ass, with the plug you are wearing in your shit-hole.”
“My ass, my shit-hole.”
“Very good. I may use other words for them at times, or ask you to do so, but these are the usual terms we will employ. Now stand up, turn around, and bend deeply at the waist. Reach behind you, and separate the cheeks of your ass. I want to get a close view of your ass and the plug in your shit-hole.”
After a few minutes, he told her to sit down again.
“Was Doctor Pudenda quite thorough in your examination today?”
“Yes.” Shelly recalled the feeling of his gloved hand on her most intimate parts.
“Did he give you any instructions? What were they?”
“He gave me a prescription for birth control pills, and fitted me with a diaphragm. When I asked why the need for both, I was told you would explain. He told me he would send you the test results in a few days.”
“I’m really looking forward to receiving his report. So far as the birth control pills go, I’m sure you understand the need to prevent conception. The diaphragm is not for birth control at all, but for your period.”
Shelly looked puzzled.
“When you are menstruating, you will be permitted to use tampons, but if I require your presence, when you arrive here you will remove the tampon, insert your diaphragm, and douche thoroughly. This way, I will not have to deny my pleasure for so many days each month, or have to contend with your menstrual flow.”
She was shocked at the idea.
“Before we retire, I want to give you tomorrow’s schedule. You have no classes tomorrow, so you will rise at six, have breakfast with me, and then you can study here while I am at work. At one, I have scheduled a visit for you to the spa, where you will be assigned a personal trainer, and work out until two-thirty. You will have lunch while there. After that, I am taking the rest of the afternoon off so that we can indulge in a little shopping expedition.”
“That is all for now.”
He turned off the camera and light, called for the screen to retract.
“Come upstairs.”
Shelly carefully ascended the stairs and followed Martin into the dressing room, where he removed the plug inside her, unlocked all the padlocks, and told her to remove the rest of her clothes. She took off the earrings, collar, shoes, stockings and belt, and stood naked on the small platform. Martin gathered a number of items from various drawers, then took her in to the bedroom.
He showed her what he held. First was a mitten of heavy rubber. It was large enough to receive both hands. It had a wide band with a clasp at the wrist, and a metal ring set in the other end. He asked her to press her palms together in front of her, then put the mitten over her hands, locking the clasp. Her hands were now bound together.
“Chain down.”
A heavy steel chain descended slowly from an opening in the ceiling, stopping when the end touched the floor. Martin picked it up, and attached it to the ring in her mitten. He then commanded the chain to rise, stopping it when Shelly’s arms had been lifted above her head.
Next, he displayed five small rubber-coated clamps. “These are for your nipples, cunt-lips and clit,” he explained. He placed them on her, then tightened each one.
The last item was a rubber hood, like the one she had seen in the photograph in the study. It had a zipper at the back and, inside at the front, a rubber bulb intended to fit in the mouth. Martin instructed Shelly to open her mouth, then placed the bulb inside. He pumped it up until she felt her cheeks swell, then stretched the hood around her head, and zipped it.
“There is a tube through the middle of the gag in your mouth, so you can breathe. There are also small built-in speakers by your ears, so that I can communicate with you, or provide white noise which blankets all sound.”
The mask covered her eyes, all she could see was black. The smell of rubber was strong. She heard Martin’s voice through the speakers:
“I have some work to attend to. I’ll check on you later.”
Then all she heard was a sound like wind rushing past.
For the time Shelly remained there, all she could think of was the pledge she had made, and the constantly increasing throbbing pain at her nipples and crotch. She had wanted to submit to Martin, to be his slave. He had told her that the agreement she was entering into was more extreme than she could imagine. He had further told her that once begun, there was no escape. The very idea of it thrilled her, that he was to have complete control over her.
And yet, as she stood there, she realized how right he was. At that moment she would do anything, anything at all, to stop her suffering. She hoped she could wake up and find herself back in her dorm room. Her aching arms, her body covered in sweat, the horrible throbbing in her most tender spots, places which under other circumstances could be the centers of such ecstasy, she longed for her dark fantasy to end. But wasn’t there a sweetness, a tender passion that accompanied the terror? She had been searching for something: had she found it at last?
She felt the clamps being slowly removed. The blood rushing back in produced a swell of pain worse than the clamps themselves, she went rigid. Then the sensation began to ebb. Martin’s hands caressed her breasts and belly, stroked her buttocks. She wanted to be released, needed fulfillment. She wanted to feel the weight of him on top of her, the warm strength of him within her.
This was not to be, not yet. She heard his voice in her ears:
“The hour is late, tomorrow is another day. I’m going to release you now and remove your hood.”
She felt the chain slacken, felt him unzipping the hood, taking it off. The light in the room was blinding. He unlocked the mitten containing her hands, gently picked her up and carried her to the bath, where he placed her in the tub, already filled with warm, fragrant water.
“You may relax here for a while, get the knots out of your muscles. There is a whirlpool, ask for it and it will start. When you are finished, you may put on the robe and slippers I have left for you. Come downstairs and say goodnight, I’ll be in my study.”
After Martin left the room, Shelly tried the Jacuzzi. The warm swirling relaxed her, made her sleepy, made her forget. She luxuriated in it for some time, then stepped out of the tub, put on the thick terry robe and slippers that were waiting. She padded down the stairs to the study, where Martin was sitting at the computer keyboard.
“You may sleep in the big bed upstairs again tonight, but we’ll forgo the tethers this once. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She came toward him, took his hand and kissed it.
“Goodnight, Martin.”
“Goodnight, Shelly, and pleasant dreams.”

(end of Part 12 -- to be continued.)

Part 13

The Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun” drifted in, slowly increasing in volume, then decreasing. Shelly awoke, a little sticky on the black latex sheet, heard Martin’s voice over the speakers:
“Good morning, little one. Breakfast is in process. Take a shower, and come downstairs. You may wear slippers, nothing else.”
Shelly showered at length, varying the temperature, pressure and the type of spray. She was having fun with the shower controls, and her skin was feeling a little less sensitive this morning. The marks, although still noticeable, had faded a bit. She called for shampoo, washed her hair, then asked for warm air to dry. She felt refreshed.
She found the slippers beside the bed, went downstairs where Martin was already at the table, reading a newspaper. She began to sit down across from him, when he stopped her.
“Kneel beside my chair.”
She knelt down next to him, remembering to keep her legs apart. He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand, raised her head up.
“Shelly, for the moment you make speak freely, there will be no retribution. I feel you are beginning to make some slight improvement in your behavior, although we are certainly early in the game and have a great deal of territory to cover. Are you satisfied with your training so far?”
“Martin, I don’t know how I can answer you. I am so confused, my thoughts and emotions are in a spin. For once in my life, I feel that I have dedicated myself to something beyond, something bigger. I feel excited, and yet, when you beat me, or tie me up as you did last night, I feel so insignificant, so used, and at the same time it makes me long for you.”
“Shelly, your honesty and understanding surprise me. Perhaps I have underestimated you. Tell me right now, what is it that you want most?”
“I want to be good enough to please you, but more than that, I need you to take me, to be inside me, even if it is to rape me. My passion for you is overwhelming.”
“I have seen the desire in your eyes. I too, long to taste pleasure within you, but first you must learn more control. Do not worry, your time will come. Patience is a trait that will serve you well once acquired. Sit and have some breakfast.”
After breakfast, he took her to the bedroom, where he asked her to show him the bag of garments she had brought from her dorm. She opened the bag, dumped it out on the bed. He looked through the bras, panties, garter belts, stockings, throwing most things into another pile, making a smaller pile of some items at one corner of the bed.
“This is simple, really. Most of what you have here will no longer be permitted. You may keep the garter belts and stockings for the moment, and these two bras.”
He held up the bustier, and her black lace decollete, which fastened in front, between her cleavage.
“You will not wear panties again, unless I provide them for you. Nor will you wear any item, like these other bras, which might make it difficult for me to have immediate access to any part of your body. I’m sorry, but the long underwear is entirely out of the question. If we indulge in any winter sports, you will have clothing made which will provide insulation and still allow you to be completely available.”
Shelly could not envision how such clothing could be made, but she was sure that Martin could think of something.
“Come to the dressing room, I have selected your outfit for today.”
Shelly wondered if a training belt would be part of her attire. She was not mistaken. Martin attached yet another model of belt, rubber again, with a y-strap which ran astride her cunt and between her ass-cheeks, once again holding a rubber plug, a little larger than the one she had worn most of the day before.
He handed her a pair of very long black spandex pants, with stirrups. They had two side zippers which descended to mid-thigh. She put them on, pulled up the zippers. The pants came up just below her breasts. The top he gave her was leather, unlined, in a loose fit with long sleeves and cropped short, so that it ended just below the top of the pants. It was a strange sensation to have the rough suede side rubbing against her nipples. He gave her black pumps to wear, with the same four-inch heels as yesterday, but lacking the locking straps at the ankles.
“This will be fine for today’s activities. When you get to the spa, they’ll have workout clothes for you there, and then afterwards I’m sure you are going to love the shopping spree I have planned. I must go now. You may study here in the bedroom. Log on and enter your name, the computer will give you instructions and assignments. Be downstairs by one, John will be by to take you to your workout.”
With that, he left.
Shelly settled in in front of the keyboard, wondered where the “on” switch was. Then she realized it was probably connected to the rest of the household system, said “Terminal on,” and the screen lit up. She typed in her name, and the screen responded.
“HELLO, SHELLY. You have an exam coming up in History on Friday, so we should begin with that. Read Chapter 2 in your text, when you have completed it hit “carriage return” on the keyboard.”
Shelly opened her text, and forced herself to read. She had an idea from the day before about what would happen if she failed to follow the machine’s instructions.
She completed the chapter in about forty minutes, then went back to the keyboard. The computer chided her for reading slowly, said she would have to improve. Then it quizzed her on the material, giving little pleasure ripples when she responded correctly, and little spasms of pain when she didn’t. She felt more pain than pleasure. Then the system instructed her to re-read certain sections, and then return to the keyboard again.
It went on like this all morning, Shelly having very little time to think about anything but her studies. After a while, she was beginning to enjoy the process, and finding the computer questioning getting somewhat easier: in one section, she got so many answers correct that she almost came! The computer even gave her brief study breaks, suggesting that she stretch and walk around every twenty minutes or so. She could see the effectiveness of the system, providing her with discipline which she sorely lacked. Was this a paradigm of the training that Martin intended for all aspects of her being?
At ten minutes to one, the computer advised her to put away her books and go downstairs. Apparently the system was fully aware of the schedule Martin had planned for her. She had accomplished more work that morning than in the past three weeks of school, and she was very pleased with herself. She went downstairs, found a leather coat Martin had left in the closet for her, and waited for the Rolls.
John was precisely on schedule, and delivered her quickly to the building where the spa was housed. Shelly went right up to the eighth floor, where the receptionist recognized her and paged Verna, who appeared moments later.
“Ms. Levine, may I call you Shelly? Mr. Johnson has detailed his desires for your exercise program. I think it’s all right to tell you, he is one of the owners of this club. You will get very special attention here, in fact, I’ve decided to be your personal trainer. I do hope we become friends.”
“Now please come with me. You should change for your workout. I do hope you like to sweat!”
Verna took her to a private dressing room at the back of the club. She followed her in, and closed the door.
“Mr. Johnson has sent over some workout gear for you. It’s all in this bag.”
She handed Shelly a black plastic shopping bag. Shelly stood there, wondering if Verna was going to watch her undress.
“Shelly, what are you waiting for? We should begin immediately, Mr. Johnson will be by for you at two-thirty.”
Shelly opened the bag and laid out its contents on a chair. She took off all her clothes, while Verna stood there watching, then started to put on the workout garb. There were black stretch tights, like she had often worn at her club, but these were crotchless. Next she put on a leotard top, of black latex with snaps at the bottom. She found black socks and black leather aerobics shoes, which she put on, and four weight bands, one for each wrist and ankle. She had seen people at her own club using similar weights. These were a little different. When she put them on, they closed with a click, reminding her of other cuffs she had worn recently. She also noticed that each had a steel ring imbedded in one side. It made her a little nervous.
She became a great deal more distressed when she turned to face Verna, and noticed the small remote control that Verna was holding.
“You look great. Let’s begin.”
Verna took Shelly to an exercise room that was not in use.
The equipment in it did not look familiar.
“This is a private room, reserved for special members and their guests. The apparatus here is all custom-made, at great expense.”
“I want to take a moment to explain your regimen. You’ll be scheduled four times a week. I can see you have worked out a little, but you had no proper guidance. You are still sorely out of shape. Don’t get me wrong, no one wants you to become muscle bound, we don’t find that in the least attractive. You are here for training in endurance, flexibility and toning. You will go longer and harder than you have gone before. You will become limber and supple. You will work out muscles you did not know existed. Now come over here.”
She brought Shelly over to a device by the wall. It consisted of a small bench with a waist strap, surrounded by four arms with cables running through them. She had Shelly lie down, tightened the waist strap, and then connected a cable to each of her weight bands.
“This machine gets the highest praise from many of our clients. It makes a science of stretching!”
Shelly felt tension on her arms and legs.
“Now don’t resist the machine, or you’ll hurt yourself.
Just go with it.”
Shelly’s legs were stretched taut, her arms drawn up over her head and pulled tight. The machine started to move, the two top arms traveling down, drawing her arms towards her feet and forcing her to bend at the waist. While in this position, the cables attached to her feet moved apart, putting Shelly in a wide split. Then the pace started to increase. Shelly was being pulled and contorted in every conceivable direction. She found that the only way to react was to be as limp as possible, and allow the machine to move her around, but even so, she felt pulling and burning as her body was stretched to its limit.
“The machine will not overstress you, as it senses resistance to the pull of the cables. Of course, it also records each session, and attempts to stretch you a little further at each future workout.”
After a while, the machine stopped. Shelly thought it was finished, but Verna simply crossed the cables at her ankles and wrists, and had her turn over on her stomach. It began again, pulling arms and legs upward and forcing Shelly’s back to arch.
By the time the machine came to rest and Verna unhooked the cables, Shelly felt like a rag doll.
Verna walked Shelly over to a cross-country skiing machine.
“Have you ever used one of these before?”
Shelly shook her head.
“It’s simple, really, although some find the coordination a little tricky at first. Start by holding on, and moving your legs only. Then do just the arms, then put the two together.”
Shelly waited while Verna adjusted the height for her, then began. She had little trouble figuring out the arm-leg alternation, and was soon imagining herself poling and sliding across a field in Norway. She enjoyed the sensation, wondered why she hadn’t tried this type of machine before.
The resistance of the arm pull and skis began to increase, and after a few minutes she felt her breath coming harder and her heart pounding. She started to slow down, when she felt a powerful, agonizing jolt pass through her.
“Shelly, Mr. Levine warned me that you might be a bit of a wimp. I expect you to go at least twenty minutes on this machine today, and we will increase that by a minimum of three minutes each session, until you can go an hour. You can see that I have an effective way to keep you going, and I won’t be the least bit reluctant about using it, and at high intensity, should you falter. Pick up the pace, please!”
Shelly started pumping away in earnest. She was dripping in sweat, completely out of breath, and had experienced more than a few pangs via Verna’s remote control by the time the twenty minutes had passed.
“Walk around the room for a few minutes to cool down. You make take small sips of this.”
Verna handed her a squirt bottle. Shelly drank some, a slightly salty tasting brew reminding her of Gatorade, which she detested. She was so thirsty she forced herself to drink more.
Her break didn’t last long. Verna started her on a weight training circuit. The weights she was using were not too bad, but Verna wanted lots of reps, quick changes from one muscle group to another, and had her moving her arms and legs in directions and positions that she was not at all used to.
From there, Shelly’s feet were strapped to an incline board.
“How many sit-ups can you do, Shelly?”
“I don’t know. Twenty maybe?”
“Today you’ll do thirty-five. By the time I’m done with you, one hundred.”
She began, pushing herself as hard as she could to avoid the pain of the belt. Finally, she counted thirty-five.
After allowing her to rest a moment, Verna approached Shelly, her ankles still attached to the board. She told her to bend her legs, and spread them a little, then unsnapped the crotch of Shelly’s latex leotard. Since her tights did not cover her there, her sex was now exposed to sight. Shelly thought Verna was going to fondle her or something, and was horrified at the idea.
Verna held up a gadget which looked like a small dildo connected by wire to an electronic stop watch.
“This is a PC meter and trainer. Proper use of it will enable you to grip and squeeze with your cunt, which will really improve your lovemaking skills. The plug is inserted just so”, she slipped it inside her, “ and you squeeze just as if you were trying to stop your urine flow, and draw in your butt-hole at the same time. The results of your efforts are shown on the meter, both the strength of contraction, and the amount of time you can hold it. Try it!”
Shelly squeezed down there, and a number popped up on the display.
Verna laughed. “Why Shelly, you have a cunt like an eighty-year-old. I can’t imagine any red-blooded man would enjoy fucking you! You have got a lot of work to do. Let me give you a bit of incentive.”
Shelly felt a delightful wave of sensuality wash over her, immediately replaced by the most intense agony she had yet experienced from the belt device. She shuddered at the pain, holding back a scream.
“No need to hold back, you can scream if you want. This room is completely sound-proof. Now try again, and give it something this time.”
Shelly squeezed with all the energy she could muster, Verna yelling at her to hold it as long as she could.
“That’s a tiny bit better. Do it again.”
Five minutes of this caused Shelly legs to spasm. Verna released her ankles, removed the plug and snapped up Shelly’s leotard.
“That will have to be it for today. You have time for a quick shower, and a stop at the snack bar before Mr. Johnson arrives.”
Shelly showered and dressed, found the snack bar, where a young man behind the counter handed her a drink which he explained was to be her lunch.
“What’s in it?” Shelly wanted to know, the stuff was pale green and fairly thick.
“A specialty of the house. It contains a number of pureed vegetables, a quantity of brewer’s yeast, and a good dose of vitamins and minerals, in a skim milk base.”
Shelly tasted it. It was vile.
“I suggest you drink it all. It was Mr. Johnson’s request that it be served to you.”
The voice was Verna’s, who had just come up behind her.
Shelly remembered the fourth rule on the list Martin had given her. It gave Verna, among others, the same right to command her as Martin himself. She held her nose and drank the glass down, nearly gagging. The counterman, watching her, smiled and handed her a small glass of water. Shelly drank it, trying to get the lingering taste out of her mouth. It helped only a bit.
Just then Martin came in, nodded to Shelly, and motioned to Verna who walked over to him. Shelly watched them talking, but could not overhear what they said. She saw Martin laugh. Verna laughed too, then Martin kissed Verna on the cheek and she left the room. Shelly could only imagine what they had both found so humorous.
Martin walked over to her.
“Verna tells me you really enjoyed your first work-out. She is truly an expert in fitness, I’m glad she consented to be your trainer. In a short time you won’t believe how much better you can look and feel!”
He lifted Shelly off the stool she was on, and deposited her on her feet. Although not much bigger than she, Shelly felt from the way he handled her that he could probably have tossed her across the room without straining.
“Come along now, we have a busy shopping schedule. There are three stops to make before dinner.”
At that, he took her by the hand and led her briskly to the elevator and out to the street. John opened the car door for them, and they left.
While in the car, Martin made a number of business calls, giving orders and requesting data. They took one of the bridges over to Cambridge, and then up past the Science Museum to a street with many traffic lights. John pulled in to an alley, at the end of which was a small shop. The sign over the door read, “Corsetier.”
Since Martin had disposed of almost all of Shelly’s underwear, Shelly surmised that he was going to get her some new things. What a funny, old-fashioned looking little shop! In the window was a mannequin dressed in Victorian style, with a very high bustline, bulging hips and rear, and the tiniest waist she had ever seen.
Inside, there were displays and photographs of all manner of corsets and brassieres. A woman dressed in the same style as the window mannequin came out of the back and greeted Martin by name, then introduced herself to Shelly. She asked them both to follow her.
She took them to a small room in the back, with a clothes rack, three-sided mirror and platform (which reminded Shelly immediately of Martin’s dressing room) and one overstuffed chair and end table. Martin sat down in the chair, while the woman escorted Shelly to the platform.
“Mr. Johnson has asked us to have you try on, and be fitted for a number of corsets. Please be good enough to undress.”
Shelly looked questioningly at Martin, who simply nodded assent. She removed her shoes, leather top and pants, and presently stood there naked except for the belt.
The woman spoke, directing herself to Martin: “We really should remove the belt as well, to get the proper fit and effect. As you know, many of the designs can be fitted with a crotch strap if you desire.”
Martin handed the woman one of the small cards which unlocked the belt and cuff clasps. The woman removed Shelly’s belt and plug, remarking as she did, “Oh, what a cute little butt plug. She must be new. But of course she is, or you would have brought her sooner!”
Shelly was at a total loss. Everyone seemed to know what was going on except her. She reddened, looked to Martin for support. He looked back at her. She could not read anything in his face.
The woman spoke again. “We have a number of new models, in various materials and types of construction. There is one in particular I think you’re going to like, it is heavy rubber with steel boning. It cinches with eight separate small chains at the back, each of which can be adjusted only by means of a removable key, so that the wearer has no means of removing it herself. We can equip it with steel rings for attachment if you like, and with a removable strap. But why talk about it? Let me show you!
She took a tape and measured Shelly’s bust, waist and hips. Shelly was very proud of her measurements. At five feet, nine inches barefoot height, she had a bra size of thirty-six D, a twenty-two inch waist and thirty-four inch hips. When the woman had finished taking measurements, she left the room.
She returned a few moments later , her arms full. There were corsets of various lengths and materials, including leather, latex, and satin.
The first corset Shelly tried was satin, long and heavily boned, with a half-cup bra whick came up between her breasts, supporting them from underneath, but which left them completely free. At the bottom in front it descended almost to her pubis, but was shorter on the sides and in back, leaving her hips and ass free. The shopwoman pointed out a brass rail at the front of the platform, asking Shelly to hold on tightly with both arms. She then proceeded to lace up the corset behind, pulling very hard on the cords.
Shelly felt her ribs and waist being drawn in tightly. The woman asked her to exhale as she tightened the waist, then she was done and tied off the cords at the bottom. Shelly’s waist was reduced almost five inches, and the structure of the corset forced her to arch her back, making her butt protrude. She could only take very small breaths, and found herself gasping for air and feeling a little faint.
Martin remarked, “It is most becoming, Shelly. Now you understand why Victorian women were always swooning!”
They had her try on a number of models. The two that were most remarkable included the rubber corset that the woman had described earlier, and another model of lined steel mesh, which closed with turnbuckles. This corset was only about ten inches wide. It was explained to Shelly that this was a sample only, the actual one she would receive would be custom-made, and there was no point in fabricating one for her until her waist had already been reduced by at least six inches.
Shelly was trying to imagine what she would look like with a sixteen-inch waist, when she heard Martin say: “Oh, I don’t think that should take too long. Our goal for her is twelve inches.”
She fainted.
Their next stop took them back to town, to a shop which specialized in leather. Martin had Shelly try on a number of dresses, skirts, tops, and a few pairs of pants and shorts. Most were very form-fitting, and closed with lots of zippers, laces or buckles. One skirt, fairly short, was one piece in front, but had straps across the back which left her ass completely exposed. There was also a pair of pants which had belts running completely around it, every six inches or so, from waist to ankle. When they closed the buckles, Shelly could not walk at all, could barely stand up. She wondered what it was meant for.
In the same shop, there was a wide assortment of whips, paddles and crops. Martin pointed them out to her, saying that fairly soon, they would return so that she could select her own personal favorites. The very sight of them made Shelly shudder.
The last stop found them back at the shop offering latex, which Shelly had visited only two days earlier. Martin received a warm welcome from the same saleswoman who had helped Shelly.
After Shelly was stripped and powdered, she tried on dozens of outfits and undergarments. There were latex bras, some with exposed nipples, others which were no more than support harnesses, leaving her tits naked. High-topped rubber stockings were offered. She also tried on rubber “training” pants, which incorporated plugs which penetrated front and rear.
She modeled miniskirts and short dresses, all tight on top, some with tight skirts and others with loose pleats. They were shown in various shades of latex. One outfit was made of very thin latex, like surgical gloves, and quite transparent. Another dress was made of latex mesh, through which you could make out everything. Yet another had clear plexiglass cups for her breasts, and a clear panel which displayed her bare pussy.
The last item she tried was a very long, high-waisted skirt, with straps and buckles down the back descending to her ankles. When she put it on, she felt like she was encased in a cocoon. They had her in pumps with five-inch heels. Martin ordered her to walk around. She was only able to accomplish this by taking tiny, mincing steps, moving each foot only a few inches at a time. Did he really expect her to be able to get around in this outfit?
They gave her back the clothing she’d been wearing, and Martin thanked the saleswoman as they left.

(end of Part 13 -- to be continued.)
• Edwardo

Part 14

On the way to Martin’s house, he discussed Shelly’s agenda for the rest of the week.
“Tonight, you will have dinner with me, and shortly after John will return you to your dorm, where you can study and sleep. You have an early class tomorrow, and then a break during which you will go to the spa for a workout. You’ll be returned to the university in time for afternoon classes, a study session at the library, and then back to my place. After dinner you will again return to your dorm. You will have plenty of time to study for your exam on Friday. At the close of classes Friday, you will have a spa visit, a short workout and then they will get you ready to go out. We’ve been invited to a party, and I’m sure you will find it much more interesting than the parties at school.”
“Up to now, you have not seen any of my household staff. I employ a cook, a maid, and a butler. They have all been with me for some time, and are aware of many of the practices that go on, although they generally do not get involved themselves. They live next door, and the two buildings have a basement connection, so it is possible for them to come and go freely and unobtrusively. This evening, my cook Madeline, and Philip, the butler, will be present during dinner.”
Shortly, the Rolls pulled up in front of the house on Beacon Street. Martin helped Shelly out. Philip greeted them at the door, and took their coats. He was tall and thin, with gray hair and a long, bony face. His accent sounded British to Shelly.
Martin took Shelly upstairs, where he took her to the dressing room and had her strip, then removed her belt. He immediately replaced it with the one she had worn the first night, selecting two steel plugs from a drawer. When Shelly saw them, her eyes grew wide. The one intended for her cunt was only a bit larger than the one she had worn before, but instead of the knob which would rub against her clit, this model had a little chain which connected to a clamp. The rear plug was no longer any smaller than the front one, in fact it looked a little wider at the base. Martin attached the waist belt, pulling it very tight, then guided the plugs home. Before he fastened the crotch strap, he clipped the spring-loaded clamp to her clit. Finally, he pulled the center strap tightly up between the cheeks of her ass, and closed the rear clasp.
The plugs felt colder than she remembered. The steel probe invading her ass seemed like it would split her open, while her clit began to throb from the pressure of the clamp, and the strap pushing it hard against her.
“Come, dinner is ready.” Martin started to lead Shelly downstairs.
“You mean your cook and butler will see me this way?”
“Of course. You should get used to the idea of being seen both here and in public, in various states of bondage and undress.”
He took her to the dining room, where two places were set at one end of the long marble table. Martin sat in a leather chair at the end, while the chair next to him, at right angles, had been replaced with a very unusual seating device. A round brushed-steel bar, about eight inches long, sat horizontally, welded in a “T” to a vertical tube, set into three tubes forming a tripod base. At the bottom of two of the tripod legs were rubber lined steel cuffs.
Martin had Shelly stand astride this “stool” and fastened the cuffs around her ankles. Then he asked her to sit. The only support was the steel bar at the top, which ran not sideways, but front to back. It pressed against her cunt and asshole, so that her weight forced the two plugs even deeper inside her. It took her a few minutes to relax her legs and allow herself to completely sit on the metal rod. As she did, she had to open herself to accommodate the plug in her ass.
Philip served the meal, which went on for some time, being a number of small courses, from consomme to grilled tuna with vegetables, salad, coffee and fresh fruit for dessert. Shelly avoided looking at Philip as he kept coming and going. She was afraid he might look back; she did not want to see the expression on his face. She was very hungry, and ate everything served her while trying to ignore the growing discomfort caused by the plugs and the way she was seated.
At last, the meal was over and the last plate cleared. Martin asked Philip to send in Madeline, whom he thanked for dinner while Shelly kept her eyes lowered. He removed her leg irons and took her upstairs.
Back in the bedroom, Martin had Shelly stand in the middle of the room while he fetched some items from the dresser. He fastened her hands together in front of her with a pair of linked cuffs, and then attached them to the ceiling chain and pulled them tightly over her head. He spread her legs widely, and placed ankle cuffs on her that were separated by a three foot long steel rod. He showed her a couple of small cats, in leather and rubber.
“I don’t want to mark you up tonight, your skin is still healing from your last flogging. It is important that your training continue, so I’m going to stay with these small whips, which will allow me some latitude in intensity and repetition without causing any bruises. We’ll forgo any gags or blindfolds this evening, I want you to see everything, and you should know that if you scream, you will be whipped more severely in response.”
With that, he started in whipping her, varying the force and speed of the blows. He attacked every inch of her body below the neck, at times concentrating on her breasts or backside, at other times aiming for her shoulders, back, legs, or belly. Shelly tried to brace herself as each blow landed. Martin made a cruel game of pretending a heavy blow and then missing or hitting her lightly, and sometimes landing powerfully with a stroke that did not look as if it would hurt. She soon found herself panting and in a sweat.
The plugs which remained inside her had the same type of remote device that Martin had been using on her all along, and as every blow fell, it was accompanied by a thrill. As the harder blows landed, just as the sting of the lashes bit into her, she simultaneously felt she might faint in ecstasy.
Shelly was on the verge of orgasm, she started to welcome the taste of the whip as it brought her nearer and nearer to release. Martin stopped.
Shelly cried out, “No, don’t stop now! Hit me harder!”
Martin laughed. “That little outburst is going to cost you. I thought you were beginning to understand, but you are still a slave not to me, but to your own sensuality. I might let you come, but only if you make the request properly.”
Shelly bowed her head. “Please Martin. Please flog me as you see fit.”
“I have a better idea. You haven’t had your bath yet tonight.”
He removed her crotch strap and quickly pulled out the plugs, almost tore off the clamp. Shelly gritted her teeth as the blood rushed back into her clit. Then he took off her belt and undid the bonds, and dragged her off to the bath.
Taking her shoes off, she again found herself being strapped, obscenely spread-eagled, into the cold marble tub. Martin did not waste a second, aimed the nozzles and started the flow of stinging hot water, all the more terrible because her skin was already inflamed from the whipping.
Shelly felt the pain at her breasts and belly, but the excitement from the flogging that had ended just a few moments too soon had not ebbed, and the pulsing, steaming jets which assaulted her were inflaming her desire even as they burned. Shelly wanted more pressure, more pulsing, more heat. She said nothing, in fear of causing a cessation of the rapture. The horrible burning gave way to climax, and even as she reached the peak, it progressed to a higher level. Her orgasm kept increasing, she wanted more and more, her whole body shaking.
Finally the water turned cooler, the pressure decreased. She had reached a sexual crescendo such as she had never experienced before. She felt drained. Martin’s voice came to her, as if in a dream:
“You likely think that what you’ve just experienced is the acme, the highest achievement of orgasmic delight. You haven’t the foggiest notion of what you can attain with time and practice. The peak you have just scaled will look like an anthill when you are truly accomplished, and completely surrendered to me. I’ll play you like a Stradivarius.”
He released her from the tub, told her to shower. She returned to the dressing room.
“You won’t be seeing me again until tomorrow evening. After you dress, John will take you back to your dorm. You can study for a few hours before bedtime.”
Martin took a small belt from a drawer, rubber again, but with no attachments. He drew it around her waist and clicked it shut.
“We’re working on a way to eliminate these devices, but for the moment, this locking belt unobtrusively performs the same remote functions as the plug-carrying belts you have worn. You will also wear these panties.”
He handed her one of the rubber thong training pants she had tried on earlier in the day, with front and rear probes built in. She slipped it on, feeling the warm rubber as it penetrated her. The front inside was lined with little nubs, which pressed against her clit and her still swollen cunt lips. She was beginning to be used to the sensation of being filled. She put on the leather top she had been wearing, and the spandex pants.
Martin handed her a bag.
“Here is an outfit for classes tomorrow. John will be by to take you to your workout at ten o’clock.”
He escorted her downstairs, and outside where the car was waiting. Opening the door for her, he kissed her hand and bade her goodnight. ------

Part 15

Back in their dorm room, Marybeth was lying in bed wearing a flannel nightgown, reading a textbook. Shelly nodded to her, threw the bag in the closet and set up the laptop computer on her desk. As she plugged the modem into the phone jack, Mary spoke up.
“I see you are finally here again. Shelly, I can’t live your life for you, but if you keep up all this partying, you’re never going to get anywhere! Did you have fun last night? Tell me all about your med student. And WHERE did you get that slick computer?”
It was Marybeth’s habit to ask at least twelve questions at a time.
Shelly had forgotten all about her inquisitive roommate—now she was scrambling to think up some plausible lies.
“I told you I met someone. Last night John, he goes to Tufts, took me to a Chinese restaurant and a movie. Then we went back to his place, and talked until it was so late that I just crashed on the floor. I know what you’re thinking, but nothing happened. Not that he didn’t want to, but he’s really nice and when I said ‘No,’ he respected me.”
“Of course, I think he’s really cute, and I may not be able to resist him if he tries again! The computer—I’ve been bugging my Dad about it for months now, and he finally gave in. It seems he met someone through his business who sells or makes these or something. It’s got word processing, and a bunch of other stuff I haven’t even tried yet. With the telephone thingy, I can hook in to the campus net. There are even games and stuff! You’re right about the partying though. I promised my Mom and Dad when they sent this up, that I would use it every day to study, and try to learn something and get some decent grades here. So don’t be surprised if you see me working. In fact, right now, I should get some reading in.”
She turned her back on Marybeth and logged on to the system. After this morning’s session, she knew the routine. She got into her textbooks, made some notes on the keyboard, answered the questions posed by the machine. At one point, she really screwed up an answer, and she had to brace herself in the chair to keep from screaming as a torrent of agony tore through her. So the belt didn’t need to have plugs attached to work. The right answers were a little easier to conceal, although at times she found herself involuntarily contracting against the probes which filled her. This was some way to study! But it certainly was effective.
Mary had already turned in when the screen advised Shelly it was time to quit. She undressed, and pulled on one of her sleep shirts, a long one which covered her arms and legs and hid the fading stripes on her skin. She took off the training thong, and took it into the bathroom with a little kit of supplies they had given her at the latex shop. First, she washed it gently with a mild soap from a small squeeze bottle. She dried it carefully, applied talc to the inside, and used a corner of the towel to apply a polish from another bottle to the outside.
The instructions said to hang latex garments in a dark place, away from heat. Shelly didn’t dare hang it in the closet she shared with Mary. She put it in the drawer that had previously held her panties, hiding it under one of the pairs of stockings that Martin had allowed her to keep.
After brushing her teeth and combing out her hair, Shelly set her alarm clock, for six-fifteen, and fell asleep quickly.
The Rolls pulled into the driveway, and Shelly got out. She didn’t ring the bell, but walked right into the reception room, where Nurse Drub nodded to her, then escorted her to the room with the steel exam table.
Without further instruction, Shelly removed all her clothing, lay back on the table, placed her feet in the stirrups. The straps had been replaced with rubber- lined steel bands, which Nurse Drub locked across Shelly’s waist and ribcage. Her feet were locked in the stirrups, her wrists bound with steel cuffs to the edges of the table. Larger cuffs were attached to her thighs, just above the knees, and a steel rod attached between them forced her legs wide apart.
Nurse Drub spoke:
“The doctor has always been interested in the early medicinal use of leeches. Although no longer considered a valid therapy, years ago leeches were applied for the purpose of bloodletting, sort of the opposite of transfusion!”
“He has made a study of the various species of leeches worldwide, and his collection may be the largest in existence. It is a great source of pride to him. It’s certainly an unusual hobby, don’t you agree?”
She opened a couple of alcohol pads, and with gloved hands, carefully swabbed Shelly’s breasts, her vulva, clit and the opening of her vagina. The alcohol burned as it dried. She stood over Shelly, ran her hands up Shelly’s torso and over her breasts, massaging her nipples until they were quite swollen and erect. She then turned her attention to Shelly’s clit, rubbing and kneading it until it was tumescent and throbbing.
She walked away, returning seconds later with a large jar filled with dozens of dark, slimy leeches, all swimming and slithering. With a pair of rubber-tipped tongs, she reached in and withdrew a leech, which she placed at the tip of Shelly’s right breast. She quickly placed another on the left, and a third on Shelly’s clit.
For a second, Shelly felt nothing, but then a pinching, stinging sensation began at all three points. Waiting a moment, Nurse Drub placed more leeches on her breasts, belly, and the inside of Shelly’s thighs. She walked away. The discomfort Shelly was experiencing was second only to the revulsion that she felt at the thought of these horrid creatures sucking away at her tender flesh.
Nurse Drub returned, showed Shelly a jar with just one leech, much larger and longer than the others, and colored in a strange pattern of almost iridescent shades.
“These are most rare, collected from a remote river in Africa. They can grow to enormous proportions. This one is fairly small as they go, but is capable of expanding in both width and length to a very large degree when it feeds. The doctor has suggested a fascinating use for it today.”
She removed the leech from its jar with the tongs, and grasping it near the head, guided it well up inside Shelly’s vagina. Shelly gasped at the cold, slimy feel of it within her, then screamed as she felt it take hold of the inner wall of her cunt. She felt it warming—as it filled with her own blood, and beginning to expand. Within a few minutes, it filled her completely, and was pushing in all directions. Shelly squeezed her muscles, but the leech would not let go. The stinging sensation was building, and the leech inside her was growing bigger and bigger, until she thought it would rip her open.
She had no idea how much blood she had lost. She began to feel faint.
She heard an insistent buzzing. She opened her eyes, reached out and shut off the alarm clock. She was lying on her back in the dark, in a cold sweat, and yet at the same time dripping with excitement.
She looked up at the ceiling, staring at nothing. She realized that her dream, the product of her own mind under the influence of the past few days’ events, was much more horrifying than anything she had actually experienced. She wondered what lay in store for her, what outrageous plans Martin had in mind. And just how would she react, how was it possible that this kind of depravity could thrill her beyond anything she’d ever felt before? Was she so base, so despicable she actually desired such treatment?
The alarm clock buzzed again. It was twenty after six. She got up, showered, went to the closet and got the bag of clothes that Martin had given her the night before. On top of the clothing was a note:
Our shopping trip yesterday outfits you with the wardrobe basics to assist your continuing transformation. To enable further progress, it is important that we begin the process of waist reduction that was discussed. From now on, you will wear a corset whenever possible, except when you sleep or exercise. As your waistline decreases, you will advance to more restrictive garments until the desired result is produced.
I trust you will be attentive in class today. Your workout is scheduled for ten-fifteen. I shouldn’t need to remind you to follow Ms. Simpson’s commands as you would my own. I’ll see you for dinner.
• M.J.
Shelly took the clothes out of the bag. First was a corset of black leather, with six garter straps attached. It laced in front, and there was a buttonhook included to assist in pulling the laces tight. She pulled the corset around her. It started a couple of inches below her breasts, and ended at her hips. She laced it, beginning at the top and working down, drawing the laces as tight as she could get them. As she reached the bottom, she exhaled and pulled in her stomach, then held her breath as she finished off the lacing and tied a bow. Her waist, fairly small to begin with, was now drawn in about four inches. She could breathe, as long as she did not try to fill her lungs.
She lay back on her bed to pull on a pair of long, dark stockings. She couldn’t put them on while standing, the corset prevented her from bending over easily. After fastening the stockings to the garters, she put on a long-sleeved green silk blouse, which zipped at the back. It was loose fitting, giving freedom to her breasts (since she wore no bra) beneath the fabric, which draped across them and allowed one to see them stirring when she breathed or moved. Over the blouse she put on a short, pleated skirt of gray silk, lined with latex. The waist was very narrow, and just barely closed over the corset. For her feet were gray leather pumps, with four-and-a-half inch heels, and straps at the ankle.
At the bottom of the bag was a small jewelry box. Shelly opened it now, and put on a gray leather choker, similar to the one she had worn earlier, but the letter “S” was done in brushed steel this time. There were large hoop earrings, much heavier than they looked, which swung back and forth and tugged at her earlobes when she moved her head. The last item in the box was another ring, as thick as the earrings but smaller, hinged in the center, with a small ball at each end. There was a tag attached by a string.
Instructions on the tag read: “This is to be worn on your loins. Remove the tag, and place the ring on your left outer cunt lip, about halfway down, and as far inside as it will reach, then click it shut. The magnetic lock can be opened only by someone with the encoded key card.” Shelly followed the instructions, holding her labia apart while she placed the ring and closed it. Closed, there was only about a quarter-inch space between the ball ends, and it gripped so tightly that it was impossible to remove.
Shelly felt its pressure building immediately. She was astonished at herself, at the unquestioning obedience with which she had just subjected herself to this intimate device of torment. Who would remove it, and when?
Shelly put on her makeup, and went downstairs for some breakfast. It was still early, and there were only a few people there. She got some coffee and a bowl of cereal, and sat by herself.
After breakfast, there was still almost two hours before her class. She went back upstairs, turned on the computer, and got in some more study time. Then she packed her book bag, put on her leather jacket, and left for class.

Part 16

Despite the throbbing in her crotch, Shelly found her class much more interesting than usual, perhaps because for the first time, she had completed today’s reading assignment before attending the lecture, or had bothered to read anything at all! She forgot about her predicament, and really enjoyed the class. She left the room invigorated, and almost forgot her appointment with John the chauffeur until she saw the Rolls waiting for her.
Sitting in the back of the car, the throbbing in her cunt caused by the heavy ring returned. Despite the smooth suspension of the old car, every little bump in the road seemed to make the ring tug harder. She wanted to reach between her legs and hold the ring to keep it from moving, but didn’t dare. At last the ride ended, and she got out in front of the building which housed the spa.
Verna was waiting for her upstairs, and again escorted her to the dressing room. When Shelly removed her blouse and skirt, Verna saw her corset. Verna grabbed Shelly’s elbow and turned her around until Shelly was facing her.
“I see Mr. Johnson is not wasting much time beginning your waist reduction. You will look fabulous when he and I are finished with you!”
Verna reached between Shelly’s legs and gently tugged at the ring hanging from her.
“Oh, this is cute. I wonder if he intends to replace it with a more permanent design. Well, never mind, the corset and ring will have to go for now.”
She helped Shelly remove her corset, and then took one of the magnetic keys from her pocket and removed the ring attached to Shelly’s cunt lip. Shelly had been beginning to lose sensation there, and with the ring removed, it started to hurt again.
“You know, you really can’t leave this type of device in place too long, or the loss of blood causes tissue damage. I’ll have to check with Martin and see if he wants me to replace this when you leave. Now, we haven’t much time. Get into your workout clothes.”
The workout followed the same routine as before, but each phase was a little more intense and prolonged. When Verna opened the snaps of Shelly’s latex suit and inserted the rubber plug of the PC trainer, Shelly felt like she hadn’t an ounce of strength left. A twinge of pain convinced her otherwise, and she squeezed at the probe until her face turned red.
“That’s just a little better than last time. Do it again, harder and longer this time. And don’t hold your breath, it won’t help!”
Verna kept her at it for an eternity, in reality about eight minutes. When she finally removed the plug and released her ankles, Shelly was very wobbly as she headed for the shower.
Back in the dressing room, Verna was there, grinning, holding the open ring that Shelly had worn on her cunt lip earlier. She didn’t say a thing, but waited while Shelly laced up her corset, put on her stockings, blouse, skirt, earrings and choker. Then Verna spoke:
“Mr. Johnson has given explicit instructions that you are to wear this for the rest of the day. Spread your legs.”
As Shelly obeyed, Verna lifted the front of her skirt.
“Hold your skirt up.”
Shelly held her skirt and Verna spread open her labia with one hand, with the other snapped the ring into place.
“Mr. Johnson’s ingenuity is remarkable. I understand that this ring is under radio control, and will tighten and loosen during the day, so that the sensation may be varied while preventing any damage. How they build the motors and electronics inside something this size is totally beyond me. I hope you enjoy it, for all the trouble he’s gone to!”
“You are to stop at the snack bar for lunch, and then see Mr. Andre in the hair salon. You have an appointment with him tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”
Shelly “enjoyed” another health drink at the bar. Apparently Martin intended that she be on a diet for part of the day, although he had not said anything about her meals or snacks when they were apart.
In the salon, she met Mr. Andre, a slight man in his middle thirties. He had long fingers like a pianist, and wore one earring. He greeted her, he had an accent, French she thought.
At one end of the salon was a computer system with a large monitor, and a video camera. Andre had Shelly sit on a tall stool, facing the camera.
“Zis ees a wonderfool invencion, courtesy of your Mistair Johnsewn. An imahging seestem, we can take a peekture of you, and zen show how you would look wis diffehrant hair styles. Your friend has ahsked me to suggest possible styles for hees ahpprovhal.”
After having Shelly pose for the camera, head-on and in profile, he showed her how the system worked. Her image appeared on the screen, and by entering a few commands from the keyboard, the computer replaced her hair with different lengths, cuts and colors. Some of the possibilities were so extreme, Shelly barely recognized herself. She had been growing her long hair for years, and wondered if Martin was going to make her cut it.
Mr. Andre handed her an envelope with a number of photos produced on a color video printer.
“You wheel take zees wis you when you live. Bring zem to Mistair Johnsewn so he may decide.”
Her afternoon classes went without incident. She could feel the occasional contraction and expansion of her ring, but mostly she concentrated on her lectures, and tried to take notes. She realized that if she could improve her typing speed just a bit, she might be able to use the laptop computer that Martin had given her for taking notes right in class. There were a few other students in her classes who did just that, she had branded them earlier in the term as “nerds.” Now that she was trying to get something out of the lectures, her attitude towards the others seemed to be changing. Why had she wasted so much time? This was almost fun.
After class, she rushed over to the library and found an empty carrel. Opening up the computer, she wondered where she would plug in the telephone line, since there was none there. She logged on to the computer. The screen prompted her to take out the radio that Martin had given her, and connect the modem jack to a small receptacle on the back of the radio. As soon as she did, she once again found herself connected to the Johnson Enterprises system, and the instruction began.
This afternoon’s study session started with a number of readings which Shelly completed quickly, and then she was presented with a practice test, on the same material that would be covered on tomorrow’s exam.
Somehow, the ring on Shelly’s left lower lip was cued into this test process. When she made an incorrect response, she felt a strong increase in pressure down there, which did not let up until she had correctly answered the next question. If she made two wrong responses in a row, which happened once, the pinching became even more intense, and did not begin to let up until she had made two correct responses. Just when she thought she had learned the ins and outs of the study system, Martin had changed the rules a bit. She kept working, but it made her uneasy, wondering what “surprises” might come next.
At six o’clock, the screen advised her to log off, and head outside where she would be picked up. John was pulling up just as she left the building, and in no time deposited her at the front door of Martin’s house. Shelly knocked at the door, and Philip greeted her.
“Good evening, Ms. Levine. Mr. Johnson has been slightly delayed, but I am advised he will arrive shortly.”
He helped her out of her coat.
“You may wait in the study. Would you care for a beverage?”
Shelly shook her head “no,” then walked down the hall to the study. She seated herself on the gray velvet couch, and once again found herself faced with the photo of the chained, naked, beringed woman. Shelly realized that the removable ring she now wore was liable to be only a prelude, as Verna had remarked, to a “more permanent design.” Earlier in the week, the photograph had frightened her. Now, her fear was alloyed with complicity and expectancy, hadn’t she recognized her fate when she had first seen this picture?
Clearly, Martin had wanted her to see the photo before he demanded her decision to become his slave. She had freely entered into this relationship, freely given herself, even to the point of agreeing that there was no possibility of escape. She wondered what there was about her, what Martin had recognized in her, that told him how she would respond, that he knew what she would agree to even before she herself knew.
She remembered a cruel joke her grade school classmates had played on a new boy. On the playground, one of the kids had patted him on the back, as if to be friendly, but put a sign there that said “Kick Me.” Was she wearing a similar sign, unknowingly placed there by her own hand?
Shelly felt the ring in her loins contract, and reached down between her legs to try to reduce the pressure. She tried to pull the ring apart with both hands, but it didn’t budge.
“Ms. Simpson told me how much you were enjoying that ring, but I had no idea!”
Shelly jumped at the sound of Martin’s voice. She blushed at the thought that he had been watching her, and he laughed.
“I was sure that you were taken with my photograph. Later I have other pictures, and books I want to share with you. Did you bring the video prints from Andre? Good. Right now, you will come upstairs with me. Dinner will be served at 7:30. Come along.”
Shelly followed him upstairs, to the dressing room. He pointed to the platform, and Shelly stepped up. Martin stood there for a moment, watching her.
“What are you waiting for, Shelly? You must learn to anticipate my commands. Strip!”
Shelly took everything off, until all that remained was the ring hanging from her cunt. Martin walked up behind her, and slapped her sharply on her ass.
“Turn around.”
She turned to face him.
“We have an hour before dinner. I’m sure you recall the clamps you wore briefly the other night? I have another variation you must try.”
He grasped the ring between her legs, and pulled steadily down. Shelly gasped at the pain.
“The sensation of the clamps becomes much more intense when we add some weight.”
He walked over to one of the drawers, and removed a complicated-looking affair of steel, chains and rubber.
“These are strictly custom-made. The corset shop gave me special consideration in making this up on such short notice, but I wanted to surprise you with this delightful appliance. Face the mirrors again.”
When she turned around, Martin began to “dress” her.
“Exhale completely, then draw in your belly.”
As Shelly complied, Martin brought a steel corset, lined in latex, around her waist. It was eight inches wide, and fastened behind with turnbuckles which allowed for adjustment. He closed the turnbuckles and began to tighten them. The leather corset she’d been wearing all day had already reduced her waist a bit, but that was not the effect that Martin wanted to achieve now.
Shelly felt all of her internal organs being compressed and rearranged by the device. Martin kept turning the handles, one after the other, until she thought she was going to be split in two. Finally Martin seemed satisfied with the fit, and moved on to the other appurtenances.
Hanging from the front of the corset at the bottom were two chains, with links about three-eighths-inch wide, attached about six inches apart. After a length they came together in a ring, attached to a single, slightly wider chain. Martin lifted the single end and slipped a large steel plug on. After ordering Shelly to spread her legs wider and bend slightly forward, he forced the plug into her rear, and drew the chains up through her crotch, then fastening the single chain to the back of the corset. The two front chains followed either side of her cunt, the single chain tightly up between the cheeks of her ass.
“There is a variation, a model with a hinged steel band in front, which would cover up your cunt and permit the option of a front plug. We’ll have one of those made for you as well, but tonight I don’t want to conceal your cunt. We’re going to play with it a bit.”
Two more chains, attached more widely apart at the top of the corset, crossed between her tits and then connected to the sides of a rubber-lined steel collar, which hinged at the front, and had a locking clasp behind. Martin clicked the collar in place. Another chain ran from the back of the collar, along her spine, and connected to the back of the corset. When Martin attached it to the corset, he pulled it tight, forcing her to arch her back, which in turn caused her ass to stick out, and her breasts jutted forward. Martin kneaded and spread her buttocks with both hands.
“Your ass is not bad. I’d like it a little harder. I’ll have to ask Ms. Simpson to make sure that your gluteal muscles get special attention. Come into the bedroom.”
Once in the bedroom, Martin lowered the chain which was hidden in the ceiling, and used two connected bracelets (rubber-lined steel, like the corset and collar) to bind her wrists and draw them above her head. A similar pair of ankle cuffs were locked in place, and then a spreader bar about a yard wide placed between. Martin shortened the ceiling chain a little more, until Shelly was forced to stand on the balls of her feet. Martin took out his magnetic key, and removed the ring from her cunt.
“We won’t use a hood or gag tonight. I want you to see yourself, and be able to speak...or moan.”
He turned her until she faced the window, then asked for mirrors. The entire expanse of glass transformed itself into a giant mirror, where Shelly saw herself encorseted and bound. At another request, the room lights dimmed, and were replaced by spotlights, which shone in such a way that Shelly was immersed in light, and yet there was no glare in her eyes.
Martin stepped away, then returned with a brushed-steel box, like a small tool-box. He placed it on the table beside her, and opened it, revealing a number of compartments with labels that Shelly couldn’t make out.
When he came over to her, he was holding two rubber cords, each about six inches long with clips at each end. He snapped one to each chain which crossed her chest, slightly above the point where the chains crossed, then drew them under her tits, and around back to the chains, clipping them slightly higher. The base of each breast was tightly squeezed, causing them to be drawn closer together and to protrude.
In a moment, the pressure of the rubber straps made her tits turn red, engorged with blood, and made her nipples stand out, shockingly erect. She could feel them beginning to throb.
“Now we’re ready for the game.”
Martin had walked back to the steel chest, returning with a handful of rubber-tipped steel clamps. There were three different sizes: one fairly small; two a bit larger; two more that were much larger, with broad jaws. Each had a ring attached at its center. He showed her the five of them. The inside surfaces of the rubber tips had cuts in them, like the soles of boating shoes, to prevent them from slipping off once in place, and each clamp had a thumbscrew for regulating the pressure.
“You know where these belong. You will politely request that I place them for you. Which shall I attach first?”
Shelly had an idea of what Martin would do if she did not respond.
“My nipples. Martin, please place the clamps on my nipples.”
She winced as he tightened the two medium-sized clamps in place.
“And now?”
“Martin, please place the clamps on my cunt-lips.”
The larger, wider clamps were quickly positioned and secured on her already-open labia.
“Now Shelly, we seem to have one small clamp left. Where does it belong?”
“On my clit.”
“Is THAT how you ask for something?” Martin drew back and slapped her, very hard, on the ass.
“P-please Martin, p-place the last clamp on my clit.” There were tears in her eyes.
Shelly’s clitoris was engorged and standing out from its hood. Martin made sure to fix the clamp as high up as he could, and closed it so tight that Shelly had to grit her teeth. Then he stood back, as if to admire his work.
A minute later, he opened another section of the chest, and showed her a collection of what looked like thick washers: flat gray metal discs, in different diameters and thicknesses, all with holes in the center. There were also five solid discs, shiny steel, each with a long hook attached to one of the flat sides. Shelly did not know what to make of it.
“Look. The ring in each of your clamps is just right for hanging the hooks which are welded to these little plates. The plates are steel, and will attract these powerful little magnets.”
He held one of the gray discs in the palm up his hand. When he brought the steel disc close to it, the magnet jumped up and fastened itself with a clicking sound.
“The magnets will attract each other, and very long chains can be made of them, which can become quite heavy. Won’t it be fun to see how much weight you can tolerate, hanging from your nipples, cunt lips and clit?”
“Shelly, I know this is all new to you, but you are forgetting yourself. What would you like me to do next?
“Martin, please hang the hooks on my clamps.”
As he connected each hook, he tugged on it to be sure that the clamps were tight enough and would not slip off. Each time he did, Shelly moaned.
“Oh, come on now. All this noise, and we haven’t even begun!” He pulled and twisted both discs attached to her nipples. Shelly clenched her teeth to avoid screaming.
Shelly was in a sweat, out of breath both from the pain and the compression of the severe corset. Her body quivered.
“You look lovely this way, but our time is precious. Isn’t there something you want to ask me? Where do you think I should place the first weights?”
“Martin, please place the weights on my nipple-clamps.”
He held one magnetic disc below each nipple. When they jumped up to adhere to the plates, she shuddered.
He held up two more magnets, and stared into her eyes.
“Please Martin, place the weights on my cunt-lips.”
This went on for about five minutes, which in Shelly’s sense of time felt like an hour. Martin selected the weights, varying in thickness, and Shelly’s nipples and labia were stretched more and more by the force of gravity, while her clit throbbed unbearably.
Martin stepped over to the chest, and brought back another magnet, this one about an inch and a half long. He hefted it in his hand, showing Shelly how heavy it was.
“This lovely present is intended for your sweet little clit, although I must admit, your clit doesn’t look so little right now! Have you anything to say?”
Shelly could barely get the words out.
“Please. Martin. Put the weight on my...clit.”
With this latest magnet attached, there was about eight inches of metal hanging from her most sensitive spot. Even longer lines of magnets hung from each cunt lip and nipple. Shelly felt as if the weighted clamps were going to tear off her intimate parts.
“That looks like enough for now. I want you to take a good, long look at yourself. You look charming.”
Martin’s choice of words was lost on her. She looked at the mirror, and couldn’t recognize herself as the grotesque image, weighted and in chains. Martin left the room.
He returned a moment later with a 35mm camera, and began firing off exposures with a motor drive. Shelly closed her eyes.
“Oh, no! You’ll spoil the pictures. I want you to look right at the camera.”
He finished the roll, put the camera down and approached her.
“Shelly, wouldn’t it be nice if the weights would swing back and forth?”
“P-p-p-please Martin. Please ssswing my weights.”
Martin lifted both sets of weights on her nipples, and started them swinging back and forth like windshield wipers.
Shelly screamed.
He bent down, and took the weights on her cunt lips, drawing them in opposite directions. When he let go, they swung, narrowly missing each other as they crossed. Shelly felt the incredible strain and stretching, and screamed again.
In a moment, the swinging had stopped.
“I seem to have forgotten about one set of weights.”
He tugged on the weights hanging from her clit.
“Mmmartin, please swing the weights on my clit...”
They started to swing.
She came, screaming.
(end of Part 16 -- to be continued, if readers are still interested)
• Edwardo

Part 17

Martin let her hang there a few moments, until the swinging of the magnets had subsided. Then, without a word, he started to delicately remove the hanging weights, first from her loins, then her nipples. He took off the hooks, and then slowly removed the clamps.
Having the weights removed was a relief. Taking off the clamps was not. As the circulation returned to her nipples, clit and labia, the pain momentarily increased. Finally it started to pass.
“It is such a pity that we haven’t more time this evening. But I suppose I’m becoming impatient. According to our agreement, we have a lifetime to play our games. That is, if I don’t get bored with you. I don’t think you should have to worry about that for the moment. You are destined to become quite an adept little slave cunt, I think. Does that please you?”
“Martin, I am pleased to be whatever you want me to be.”
“Good, Shelly. You’re learning!”
He removed her leg irons, lowered the ceiling chain and unfastened her wrists, then removed the bands that circled her breasts. He did not undo her corset or harness, but he disconnected the chain that lead from the back of her collar to her waist, and she was then able to straighten up. He took off her earrings, and replaced them with hooks and plates similar to the ones that had attracted the magnets, only a bit smaller.
“Now that the weights are off your tits and cunt, I’m going to hang a few from your ears. You can wear these during dinner, just as a reminder.”
He went back to the chest, took a handful of smaller magnets and suspended them from the hooks on her earlobes. She felt the ends of the lobes being pulled and stretched.
“Come along now, dinner will be ready.”
Shelly was careful not to bob or swing her head as she walked. She could imagine the weights tearing her ears apart. The weights caused a burning sensation, and a low roaring, like the sound you hear when you hold a shell against your ear at the beach. Shelly followed Martin downstairs, to the dining room.
Like the night before, the long marble table had two places set. Unlike the night before, there was a different apparatus at right angles to Martin’s leather dining chair.
“I fancy myself as somewhat of an architect and furniture designer, with a distinct preference for high- tech, and an even greater predilection for constraint. I’m sure you will find this seating device most amusing and stimulating.”
It looked fairly simple. A tripod of steel tubes, with another extending up from the center, topped by an oversized bicycle seat, such as you find on exercise cycles. The seat was covered in hide. Just below the seat, two rods about fifteen inches long projected out at right angles from the vertical tube. Each of the rods ended in a large, rubber-lined steel cuff. The rods came out in front of the seat, forming a roughly ninety-degree angle.
“Sit down. The top is horsehair, by the way. A marvelous sensation. Now spread your legs out farther, and rest them inside the cuffs.”
He fastened the cuffs around her thighs, just above the knee. The horsehair pricked her, and itched terribly.
“Like so many things that operate remotely here, this ‘chair’ is adjustable.”
Taking a small control from his pocket, he pushed a button, and Shelly’s legs were drawn farther apart, as the two metal rods attached to the cuffs moved to form a greater and greater angle. The seat itself tilted backwards slightly. Martin did not stop until Shelly’s legs were almost one hundred eighty degrees apart. The muscles along the inside of her thighs were afire, and the sensitive, inner skin of her cunt pressed up against the rough hide of the seat. Martin reached between her legs, and pulled her cunt lips even farther apart, so that when he let go, the coarse, sharp hair invaded every crevice.
“The feel of the horsehair is enlivening, though I’m afraid you can’t squirm much in that position. I’ve been thinking of having a horsehide pant made, with the hair on the inside. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, Martin, very much.”
He pressed a button on the underside of the table, and Philip appeared instantly.
During dinner, a delicious meal of chicken breast sauteed in wine and vegetables, Shelly tried to ignore her exposed condition, the pressure of the corset, and the unbelievable itching and pricking of the hair. Martin had a number of topics he wanted to discuss.
“I’m sure you are enjoying your spa trips. Ms. Simpson has informed me that she expects you to make excellent progress. Tomorrow, you remember we are attending a party. I want you to be especially beautiful and enticing, so you are scheduled for a hair styling and make-up session, before you arrive here to dress for dinner. Tonight, we will take a few moments before you leave, so that I can consider the pictures from the imaging system that Andre sent along.”
“Your physical transformation is well begun, between our little shopping spree, you spa visits, and the corsetry you started just today. We haven’t discussed your dietary needs, but this is a very important facet of your training. To enable you to reduce your waist, and get the most benefit from Ms. Simpson’s exercise regime, you have to modify your diet. You have already begun this, with the meals that you take here, and the special drinks prepared for you at the spa. Tomorrow at the spa, you will meet with a nutritionist, and she will outline your meal plan. We have to careful, since I enjoy meals out, that your choices in restaurants and elsewhere fit in properly with your nutritional goals.”
Shelly was not surprised to hear what Martin was saying. She had suspected that he intended to oversee every aspect of her existence, and why should her diet be overlooked? In a way, it was good to have someone telling her what to do. She didn’t have to make any decisions for herself, and she felt cared for by Martin’s thoroughness and concern.
Perhaps by serving Martin, she served herself? Even her own parents, although they loved her and wanted the best for her, never took the time or energy to make sure that she was doing all she could. They let her coast through life, never making any real demands. Martin was all demands, all control. But underneath, she knew that what he wanted from her was right for her, too.
Dinner was over, the chicken having been followed by salad, fruit and coffee. Martin stood up, removed Shelly’s leg cuffs, and helped her to stand. He took her by the waist, his hand around one side of the corset, and directed her to the study, where he had her sit on the couch.
He opened the envelope with the pictures Andre had made. Martin sat next to her on the couch, studying the photos one at a time, and making two piles of them. There were about thirty pictures in all, and when he was done, one pile contained about six, the rest in the other.
He picked up the first pile.
“These are all quite lovely, and I’m having a little trouble deciding which is the best. You’re going to help.”
He laid out the pictures in a row on the carpet. All the poses he had selected showed Shelly in short hair, above the shoulder or shorter. In a couple she was blonde, one was red, one black, the two others her own hair color.
All the pictures made Shelly nervous. Not that they weren’t lovely, but she had not worn her hair short since she was six. She was very proud of her tresses, which extended more than half-way down her back. But obviously Martin did not intend to let her keep them. Now he wanted her input on how short, and possibly what color, her hair would be...
“These are all quite good. Andre’s a genius, and he’s certainly learned how to manipulate the imaging system to best advantage. Which of these do you prefer?”
Shelly picked up one, which showed her hair in its natural shade, parted in the center, with short bangs and the sides about shoulder-length. It was the least extreme of the group.
“I should have known how you felt about your hair. Now I’m sure. Although I don’t intend to trick you, I needed to know how you would respond. That is a pleasant style, but would not be my choice. It covers your lovely ears, and hides the back of your neck.”
He picked up another photo, this one blonde, in a very boyish cut, parted on one side, left slightly longer on top, but cut very short on the sides and in back, where it tapered above the neck.
“I think you would be very exciting as a blonde, and this style highlights your ears, and long neck. You will bring this back to Andre. I can hardly wait to see you tomorrow night!”
Shelly wondered what Marybeth would say, or for that matter, her parents, who intended to visit in a few weeks. Would they think she had gone crazy?
“You really should be going. You need to study, and get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day for you, between your exam and the party tomorrow night.”
He took her upstairs and removed her harness and corset, took off her weighted earrings, and allowed her to dress. Before she was finished, he had her lift her skirt, and replaced the ring on her cunt-lip.
“If your studies go well tonight, this will come off before you go to bed. If not, you will have to sleep with it.”
He handed her a shopping bag. “Here is your outfit for classes tomorrow. I’ll see you when you’re done at the spa.”
They went downstairs, and Martin put her in the back of the Rolls, kissing her hand as he wished her luck on her test. John took her back to the dorm.
Shelly felt a little ragged, not so much from the session Martin had put her through that evening, but from the tumult in her mind. More than any humiliation, pain or degradation Martin had yet subjected her to, she dreaded tomorrow’s appointment with Andre. She loved her hair, its color, texture, the way it felt against her back, the way it swayed and twirled when she danced. This latest decree of Martin’s, her imminent makeover, made her feel much more slavish and subservient than even the steel ring now on her sex. That, she could hide. The hair would be immediately and obviously apparent to all.
When she got back to her room, she was glad to see that Marybeth was out. The last thing she needed right now was Mary’s airhead inquisition.
Shelly changed out of her clothes into a nightgown, and set up the computer. She could get in a couple more hours of study before tomorrow’s exam.
Her study went uneventfully. Like earlier in the day, she read text passages, answered questions, felt the ring on her cunt tighten and loosen up. She was getting better, more accurate, there were only a couple of instances where she felt the bite of the ring increase.
By eleven-thirty, the program advised her to log off and go to bed. She closed the cover of the laptop, and stood up. The ring fell off and landed on her foot. She smiled at her success, bent over and put the ring in a drawer. She got under the covers, set the alarm. Sleep came immediately.

Part 18

Shelly awoke before the alarm. Marybeth must have come in while she was asleep. Being careful not to wake her, Shelly crept off for the shower, then came back and got dressed by the light from the closet.
In the bag Martin had given her the night before, there was another corset. Made of rubber with steel boning, it was fairly narrow. It closed with internal clasps at the side, and then the adjustment was made at the front, with flat knobs that tightened cables that ran horizontally through the fabric. Like the previous morning, she exhaled to pull her tummy in, then tightened the knobs as much as she could. The garment seemed even more confining than yesterday’s.
She took the rest of the items from the bag. There was a blue crewneck sweater of some very tight, elastic knit. The outside was very soft, like a cashmere, while inside, it felt like burlap. While it showed her every curve, the sweater also itched and pricked her even when standing still. At every breath, the fabric scratched against her skin. There were blue latex leggings, and an extremely short, high-waisted miniskirt of bright red leather, barely covering her ass. There were red ankle strap pumps to match, with heels that were a full five inches. Finishing touches included red leather bracelets and collar, and earrings of steel chains, with red balls hanging from the ends.
Once again, her clothing made her feel very slutty, like everyone who saw her would know what she was. She moved her head slightly, and the ball-and-chain earrings swung back and forth. When Martin dressed her, he obviously wanted her to know, and anyone else who could read the messages in her attire and jewelry, that she was chattel.
There was one more item in the bag, a biker jacket of red leather, with lots of shiny steel zippers. She put it on, it made the sweater scratch more, picked up her bag and left.
She stopped downstairs for breakfast. Waiting in the cafeteria line for her cereal, juice and coffee, with the other students dressed mostly in jeans and sweatshirts, she felt totally ridiculous. She realized that she’d better get used to being absurd and out of place, since that was what Martin wanted for her.
She sat by a corner, avoiding the leering looks of the boys. Finishing quickly, Shelly ran off to her first class. This was her economics class, and she found herself well prepared, easily able to follow the professor’s train of thought. She took careful notes. The hour flew by.
Her next and last class for the day was history; the exam that she had been dreading, and getting ready for most of the week. As the teaching assistant handed out the test papers, Shelly wondered what would happen to her, what Martin would do, if her performance was less than stellar.
She buckled down and began the exam. The first few questions were very simple, the answers coming to her immediately. Much to her surprise, the balance of the questions were no harder. She breezed through, finishing with plenty of time to go back and recheck her answers. She handed the test booklet in, and left while more than half of her classmates were still laboring.
Shelly walked out of the lecture hall as if floating on air. The clock in the hall said she had over half an hour before John was to take her to the spa, so she crossed the street to a coffee shop. She wanted a donut, and realized that after her meeting with the nutritionist, it might be the last donut she would eat for a while.
The coffee shop was a student hang-out, and was surprisingly empty for this hour of the day. A few boys sat at tables, involved in heated discussion of nothing in particular. Shelly sat at the far end of the unoccupied counter, and ordered coffee and a jelly donut. As she ordered an older man came into the shop, and she noticed him out of the corner of her eye. She had seen him before around the school, and had wondered if he was a professor, or just one of the many people who wandered about near the campus. He was a bit eccentric, his hair gray, worn in a long ponytail. He had a gray beard as well. He wore Birkenstock sandals with socks, and over his worn blue jeans and sweater was a rather expensive-looking wool sportscoat. Shelly imagined that he was in the English department, or maybe philosophy.
In this nearly empty place, he came toward her, sat down right next to her, and ordered black coffee.
He looked right at her, and spoke: “I’ve seen you before, but recently you have changed your style. Certain details of your costume suggest an unusual lifestyle, one I am well acquainted with. In particular, and so that there may be no confusion about it, your collar, bracelets and earrings tell me that you are someone’s property, that you are owned.”
Shelly tried to look away from him, found she could not.
He continued. “I see by your reaction that I am correct in my assumption. There is a relatively small community in this area involved in the lifestyle, and we are a close-knit bunch. It is more than likely that I know your Master well. If indeed he is a member of the circle, you will soon find that we are a very cooperative and sharing group. I look forward to your introduction, and even more to the opportunity to dominate you myself.”
Shelly’s face turned red. If Martin really did know this man, did it mean that she might end up being “loaned” to him, like one might loan a book?
“There are only a few who tastes in clothing run in the direction you are dressed, and fewer still who have the resources to carry it out to the extreme presented here. You have no idea how expensive your clothes are, I think. I have an excellent idea of who your Master is. I can also tell that you are new to the scene, and that only reaffirms my conviction that I know your owner. He has been without a proper subject for some time, not for of lack of opportunity, but because he is a perfectionist, and has been looking for certain characteristics. I must say, he has done quite well for himself.”
He reached over, and before Shelly could react, he slid his hand between her (already open) thighs, under her extremely short skirt, and began kneading her labia through the latex of her leggings. Shelly dropped her head, and closed her eyes. She was mortified. She wanted to get up and leave, but was unsure if this man did not have every right to this intimate caress.
“I see I was correct about your neophyte status. Any properly trained slave would spread her thighs wider to oblige me.” He took his hand away, only to reach for a breast, pinching and twisting her nipple through the fabric of her sweater. It hurt intensely; Shelly pulled away and stood up. He slapped her harshly on the back of her leather skirt, making a slapping sound so loud that every eye in the place turned.
Before she could get away, he grabbed her wrist, and grinned broadly. “I see you have spirit. That makes it much more interesting.”
He let go of her , and Shelly ran from the shop, leaving her coffee and untouched donut on the counter.
(End of Part 18. More to follow, soon if schedule permits. Are we having fun yet?)
• Edwardo

Part 19

There were still fifteen minutes before she was to be picked up, and Shelly’s thoughts and emotions were in a dizzying spin, made worse by the pressure of her corset, and the fact that she was having a hard time walking in five-inch heels.
She ducked into a little clothing store just down the street from the coffee shop. The woman behind the counter looked up at her, then went right back to the book she was reading.
Shelly browsed a while, not really paying any attention to the clothes, when an outfit on one of the mannequins caught her eye, tan leggings with a huge, oversize sweater in earth tones. A week ago, she would have checked the price, and then used her daddy’s credit card to buy it, just the thing to wear to classes or a casual party. Today, she realized that her wardrobe was no longer of her own choosing, and Martin would be the one to decide what she wore from day to day. She knew that this was not the kind of thing he would let her wear. She wondered if she would ever again be allowed to appear in public in something that would not draw the attention of every leering male, and most females, within viewing distance.
A clock behind the counter told her she had just a couple of minutes to get to her rendezvous point with John. She walked over, taking very small steps because of the heels, to find the Rolls already waiting. She got in, John greeted her, and they took off for Starrow Drive and downtown.
When she got to the spa, Verna was waiting with another woman also dressed in the spa uniform. She introduced them: “Good morning, Shelly. This is Shirl Woodard, the club nutritionist. Shirl, this is Shelly Levine. She’s Martin Johnson’s. You know what she needs. Shelly, you go with Shirl, she’ll get you back to me when you’re done.”
Shelly followed Shirl to a small office, where Shirl weighed Shelly on a doctor’s scale, then had her sit beside the desk. Shirl asked her dozens of questions about her eating habits and preferences, obtaining a complete history of Shelly’s current food intake.
“Shelly, if it weren’t for the fact that you get a little exercise, you would look like a cow! You eat all the wrong foods, too much junk, and you have no discipline or schedule about your meals. From now on, you will be on a high-protein, high-fiber diet, with serious limitations on fats and sugars. If Verna’s training regimen is to be of any use, and the desired waist-reduction to be successful, you will have to become serious about what you eat. I’m sure I’ll get complete cooperation from Mr. Johnson.”
Shirl gave Shelly a list of acceptable and forbidden foods. Shelly had been right about the donuts, and with that she would have to forgo almost all snack foods (which she loved), sweets, ice cream, fried foods, and many, many others. The list of off-limit items was much longer than the list of permitted foods.
Another page gave instructions on portion control. Some foods she could have all she wanted, like lettuce. Salad dressing, on the other hand, was very limited. Shelly loved salads with plenty of bleu cheese dressing, or maybe Italian, she was going to have to learn to like salads dry.
The last set of instructions was a specific outline of meal plans. There were to be so many servings of vegetables, only so many ounces of meats, mostly chicken and fish. Non-fat dairy products were important, as were fruits and grains. That was about it. If she wanted a slice of pizza, that would take care of her allowance of fat for about two days.
Shirl reviewed all the details with Shelly at length, and then requested that Shelly use her computer to keep a food diary, which she, Shirl, could access to keep up with Shelly’s compliance in between their meetings. Then she scheduled Shelly to return in two weeks, to check in and be weighed.
Before Shelly left, she asked Shirl about the drinks she had been served at the snack bar after her workouts. Shirl smiled: “I know dear, you find them less than palatable. Just understand that they supply important nutrition, and help to replace nutrients and metabolites that are consumed by your exercise routine. You’ll get used to them!” She picked up a phone on her desk, and paged Verna, who showed up a moment later to escort Shelly.
Shelly’s next appointment was with the stretching machine, and the rest of her workout. Each time Verna coached her, things got harder and longer. Shelly wondered if she might ever be able to keep up with Verna’s commands, if it would ever get easier. Verna showed no signs of letting up on Shelly.
She followed Shelly into the dressing room afterwards, and stood there while Shelly got into her robe and slippers, preparing for the salon. As Shelly slipped out of the rubber workout garb, Verna spoke:
“Shelly, your pubes are growing back in already! Mr. Johnson will not be pleased to see you with stubble, not tonight. I’ll make sure you have another waxing before you go.”
Just minutes later, after forcing down another vile health drink for her lunch, Shelly found herself sitting spread-eagled on the vinyl-covered table, the warm wax being applied to her loins. She clenched her fists and held her breath as the wax was removed, but was surprised to find the pain much easier to tolerate than the hot water treatments that Martin had been subjecting her to.
With her cunt still stinging, she was hustled off to see Andre. He had already received the picture that Martin selected, and had it pinned to the wall next to the mirror by his salon chair. When Shelly saw it again, she ran her hand through her long, dark hair, and began to wish that she had never met Martin. It was too late. She was committed, and Martin’s word was law. If he wanted a blonde pixie, so be it.
Andre smiled. “Allo, Zhelly. Ah applaud Mistair Johnsewn on hees joice. He haz geeven som eenstrucsions for your mahkover today. Plise rehmove your rub.”
She took the robe off, her only covering, and handed it to him.
“Seet een ze shair.”
As she sat, a female assistant approached. The assistant placed leather bracelets and ankle cuffs on her, and then attached chains and bound Shelly to the salon chair. When she was done, Andre approached Shelly, picked up a pair of shears. In a few seconds, a number of years’ growth of hair lay on the floor.
“Bifor Ah colore zee hair, we weel treem a bit, and geev it zee bahsic shep.”
He cut a bit more, applied the bleaching chemicals, and covered her scalp in a plastic wrapping. He and the assistant left her there for some time.
They returned, spun her chair around and reclined it before a sink, where they removed the plastic and rinsed out the bleaching agents. They applied coloring, and left her again.
When she was once again facing the mirror, with the excess colorant rinsed out, Shelly could not believe her eyes. The bound, naked blonde woman in the chair must be her, but couldn’t be. Andre set in again with comb and scissors, and inside of ten minutes later, was gently shaping and drying the finished product. He held a hand mirror behind her head, so that she could admire her new hairstyle from all angles.
Shelly didn’t want to look, but could not stop herself. Her beautiful long brown hair was gone, replaced by a warm blonde shade, very short, especially in back, parted on the side and left just long enough on top so that if she shook her head, it would fly a bit, only to fall back into place.
As she looked, a very strange feeling came over her. This really wasn’t her, wasn’t the Shelly she knew. The Shelly she was familiar with would not be sitting naked, bound to a chair, all her pubic hair missing. The Shelly she knew had long, dark hair, and dancing eyes that liked to flirt. The girl tied to the chair facing her had Shelly’s body, but Shelly had departed, taking all her defenses with her.
Who inhabited the body now?
She looked at herself again. She was still Shelly, despite the changes. Or maybe, because of the changes. Was she the real Shelly now, the former person being an illusion? Had Martin Johnson found her, hiding behind a middle-class Jewish princess’ disguise, a facade of self-indulgent mediocrity, of boredom, of dilettantism and pampered immaturity? She’d been quite comfortable being that person. It was as if he had awakened her from somnambulism, and she was shocked to find that the universe was not a product of her imagination. It was real, she was real, and the feelings he had kindled within her were the first genuine emotions she had ever experienced.
Her fear was especially genuine.
Andre was finished, but the salon staff was not. They made Shelly up from head to foot, including a fresh coat of nail polish on fingers and toes, mascara, bright red lipstick, and equally bright rouge applied to her nipples, and the edges of her lower lips. When she was finally released from the chair, they bent her over, and rouged the portal to her rectum as well.
She was permitted to return to her dressing room, where Verna was waiting, taking some latex items from a bag.
“Oh Shelly! You look fabulous! I knew they were going to do your hair today, but I had no idea... at any rate, Mr. Johnson was concerned that you might run late, so he had your evening clothes sent over. I’ll help you dress. You lucky girl! I understand you are going to a party in the suburbs tonight, a rather exclusive party. But I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Come over here and let me help you!”
Shelly’s “evening clothes” began with a black latex corset, about a foot wide and very stiffly boned. Verna helped her into it, and set about tightening clasps at the back. Shelly exhaled, as she had learned to do, and Verna closed the clasps, drawing Shelly’s waist into the desired wasp-like shape. High-waisted leggings were next, also in black latex, with stirrup feet. At the crotch, the latex gave way to a clear plastic panel, covering Shelly’s pussy but leaving it completely exposed to view, in its hairless and rouged state. Now Verna handed her a latex top, with a high neck and long sleeves. It had two clear plastic half-domes, strategically placed so that when Shelly slipped it on, her breasts just fit inside the plastic. Verna closed the zipper at the back. The top was short, and almost met the waistline of the leggings, leaving a little of the corset exposed. A black latex skirt fit over the waist of the corset. The skirt hung in loose pleats, so short that it did not cover her crotch.
Verna had Shelly sit, so that she could put on a pair of boots, in a thin, shiny patent, and quite long, stopping just above the knee, with five-inch stiletto heels. When Shelly stood again, she was covered from the neck down, but in such a way that all you noticed was her gleaming black outline enhancing the paleness of her exposed breasts and crotch, nipples and labia highlighted in red. Verna came up to her, grabbed the twin plastic domes and twisted them. They came off in her hands, leaving Shelly’s breasts bare.
“Isn’t this an amazing design? Everything is covered, yet presented, and access is so easy. The crotchpiece snaps off as well, and there is a concealed zipper behind, should your rear need to made available.”
Shelly remembered having tried on this outfit when Martin had taken her shopping, but no one had pointed out its special features.
Verna re-attached the breast cups, and fastened a wide steel collar over the neck of the blouse. The ever- present “S” appeared in black at the front of the collar. Matching bracelets fit over the wrists, and ankle cuffs locked over the boots. The collar, wrist and ankle cuffs all had rings attached. There were short gloves, in patent like the boots. The finishing touch consisted of earrings: extremely large, thick hoops of the same dull steel as the collar and cuffs.
Verna took the clothing Shelly had arrived in, and put it in a bag for her. One last item remained, a long latex cape in gray metallic. It had no closure, but there were pockets set in to the front, and Shelly saw how she could keep the cape closed by keeping her hands in the pockets, and holding them in front of her. It was equally easy to hold the cape open that way.
So at last she was ready. It was already dark out when Verna bid Shelly good-bye, and Shelly went downstairs to the waiting Rolls. John whisked her off to Beacon Street. -----

Part 20

Martin met her at the door. He was dressed in formal attire, and looked very handsome. He took her by the hand, and pulled her into the foyer, where he seized her by the waist under her cape, drew her to him and kissed her, long and deep. Then he opened her cape, and spun her slowly around.
“Shelly, you are even more lovely than I had imagined. Andre and his crew have outdone themselves. We should go now, I have a number of surprises for you tonight. And oh yes, the reports from Dr. Pudenda arrived today. You’re in perfect health.”
He took a long black leather coat from the closet, pulled it on over his evening jacket, and again took Shelly’s hand.
“I’m so excited, I feel like a little boy with a new toy. Let’s go!”
He led her so quickly down the steps, she nearly tripped in her heels. Picking her up, he deposited her on the seat of the car, sat down next to her, and they pulled away.
The car headed out of town. As they rode, Martin asked Shelly how her day had gone.
She told him about her classes, and her easy performance on her exam. She thought about the incident in the coffee shop, but dared not say a word about it.
Then Martin spoke:
“I suppose I should tell you something about the affair we’re attending this evening. The party is held by a group to which I belong, and we get together at least once a month. Tonight’s dress is formal, but not all our get-togethers are black tie.”
“We are going to the mansion of a good friend of mine. He lives in a beautiful place, set in a heavily wooded section where the homes are quite far apart. His lifestyle is like mine, and he enjoys his seclusion in which to carry out his pursuits. It’s the perfect setting for a party such as this.”
“Our group includes individuals from many walks of life, but we all share one mutual pleasure, that is, the rituals of Dominance and submission. You will soon meet a number of my fellow Masters and Mistresses, and their subjects.”
“Since your training has just begun, you will need to be very careful not to transgress the rules of the group. I don’t want you to be the cause of any embarrassment to me. You will respond to all Dominants, including myself by the title ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress.’ You will keep your head lowered, and look no Master in the eye. You are my slave, but you should consider yourself community property, and immediately comply with any instruction given you, unless I command you otherwise.”
“You need not worry. The others know you are new, and will not command anything of you without my consent. I’m so looking forward to showing you off!”
“So, Shelly, will you be good?”
“Yes, Master. I will try to please you, and to make you proud of me.”
“Excellent, my dear little slave. You are off to a good start.”
He took her head in both his hands, and pulled her toward him. He kissed her hard, forcing her lips apart with his tongue. The feeling of his strong hands, and insistent lips and tongue was electrifying, causing a vibration and warmth within her which ran to her very core. When he let her go, she gasped for air.
He had never kissed her that way before, and the intensity of it was greater than any kiss she could recall. If she had ever doubted her desire to be possessed, body and soul, by this man, that doubt had vanished.
The ride lasted only a few minutes more before John turned off the road, past an enormous wrought-iron gate, and up a long drive leading to an imposing structure that looked like a small castle. An assortment of cars was parked to one side, everything from stretch limos, to Porsches and Mercedes, with a few more modest conveyances including a rather shabby Ford sedan (that Shelly could have sworn she had seen parked near B.U.).
John pulled up in front, got out and opened the door. Martin helped Shelly out, took her arm and led her up the wide marble steps to the entrance.
They were met at the door by a young woman dressed in a frilly maid’s cap and apron, garters, stockings, high heels, and nothing else. She took Martin’s coat and Shelly’s cape, then walked away. Shelly noticed as the woman turned, her back was completely naked except for the apron string, tied in a bow. Her buttocks were striped with red welts, as if she had been whipped very recently.
Martin spoke: “That’s Jennifer. She belongs to our host, Simon Kagan. You’ll meet him shortly. If he speaks to you, be sure to address him as ‘Master Kagan’. Jennifer is quite lovely, isn’t she? She’s been with Simon for almost five years.”
Martin took a chain from the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. It had a black leather loop at one end, a padlock at the other. He closed the padlock over the ring in Shelly’s collar, and wrapping the chain around his hand so that it was quite short, pulled Shelly through a doorway into a great banquet hall.
As they entered, there was a round of applause, as all the guests turned to face them. Martin took a short bow, and pushed Shelly down so that she was on her knees at his feet. She lowered her head, could feel her face turning red. As the applause subsided, Martin spoke:
“Dear friends, allow me to introduce Shelly.”
He pulled her to her feet, and led her by the leash around the room. Shelly could not bear to look up. Martin stopped abruptly, and Shelly nearly fell, except that he caught her by the waist. They were standing in front of an immense man, not just large but hugely corpulent. Martin shook his hand.
“Simon, it is so good to see you. Shelly Levine, this is our host, Simon Kagan. He is a dear old friend of mine. Say hello, Shelly.”
“Hello, Master Kagan. It is a privilege to be a guest in your beautiful home.”
Simon slowly circled Shelly. Then he spoke.
“Martin, she is as young and comely as your description. Her ample breasts, thighs and backside are well suited to the corsetry you intend. I realize you’ve barely begun the laborious process of training her, but tell me, do you really think she’ll suit you? We all know how particular you are.”
“Simon, I’ll admit I initially had my doubts, but she is quite intelligent, and from every indication will make an excellent slave. She’s got a bit of fight in her, but that only makes the task of molding her will that much more interesting. You know I’ve been developing some of my high-tech toys for just such a creature as she, and I think the effort will pay off fabulously. Would you care for a brief demonstration?”
Shelly was still looking towards the floor, but from the corner of her eye, she saw Martin take a small, flat remote control from his pocket. She began to realize what Martin had in mind, and it made her very nervous.
“The corset she’s wearing contains some fairly sophisticated electronics, in fact, her whole costume constitutes a marvelous system of control. Want to try it?”
He offered Simon the remote device.
“Martin, I can’t even program my own VCR. Why don’t you show me?”
Martin pressed one of the buttons.
Shelly felt a now-familiar sensation, as a wave of excitement started to emanate from her loins. Martin stopped for a second, only to begin again, the excitement rising more quickly now. He kept stopping and starting, as an unbelievable crest of pleasure built within her. She began to moan uncontrollably, feeling the sensation rising towards the peak.
Instantly, the sensation reversed itself, turning into a horrible, burning pain. As she gritted her teeth, it stopped, then began again more intensely. Shelly lost any control she had left, and screamed. There was scattered laughter and applause from around the room.
Martin stopped.
Simon looked at Martin, his eyes wide in appreciation.
“You had told me of your recent applications of this technology, but I had no idea just how effective they were. I am more than impressed.”
“I’m glad you like it. The type of stimulation you just saw has enabled me to train her at a rapid pace. There is another feature of this outfit she’s wearing, which I have not utilized as yet. Watch.”
Martin pressed a few buttons. Shelly felt her legs being drawn apart, as if the muscles from her waist down were being operated independently of her mind. She could do nothing to resist, and Martin did not take his fingers away from the controls until she was standing precariously on her high-heeled boots, her toes over four feet apart. He pressed another button, and the plastic panel over her crotch fell off, bouncing on the parquet floor.
“Please feel free.”
Master Kagan reached out his hand, and slowly probed the entrance of Shelly’s vagina, kneaded her clit roughly between his stubby fingers. Shelly found that her entire body was locked in place. She couldn’t move a muscle, whether she’d wanted to or not.
“She’s dripping wet, Martin!”
“Yes, and I can produce these responses even when I’m far away. They can be operated remotely, as easy as beeping one of my employee’s pagers. For the moment, the electronics required fit in a corset or belt, but soon enough, even that will not be necessary, and the control system will be permanently, surgically implanted.”
“But, Simon, this is enough for now. The evening is young, and I don’t want to occupy all your time with my toys when there is so much pleasure to share with friends.”
“Martin, you know I find this all fascinating. As usual, you’re right. We have a marvelous meal planned, and I’m sure that you and Shelly are going to find the after-dinner entertainment most stimulating.”
With that, Simon clapped his hands together. “Friends, let us move to the dining room. I’m starved, and I’ve been advised that dinner is ready.”
Martin released Shelly from her pose, had her bend down and hand him the plastic crotch-piece of her costume, which he snapped back into place. He took her by the leash, and began to lead her with the crowd heading to the dining room. It was at this point that Shelly first had the chance to see the other guests. There were men and women in fine evening attire, and an equal number, although the proportion favored the women, of those in various states of undress, or bizarre costumes such as she herself wore.
There was one exceptionally beautiful woman, dressed in a very sexy, black leather dress. She was leading a male slave whose hands were cuffed behind him. Shelly noticed that he was being pulled on a leash, the end of which was connected to a large ring which passed right through the head of his penis.
An older man in a tuxedo would have fit in at any affair, except for the fact that he carried a black riding crop. He was using the crop to drive a girl before him, who was crawling on her hands and knees, both having been fit with pads resembling horses’ hoofs. She had long, black hair done in a ponytail, and wore a bit in her mouth. She was otherwise naked. Her buttocks were criss-crossed with an extensive network of stripes and deep scars.
There were many others that Shelly saw as they moved in the crowd. She began to wonder how Martin’s preferences ran. As she had just heard, her training had only begun, and it appeared that there was a great deal more training in store.
The seating arrangements at dinner were, to put it mildly, a bit unusual. Some of the Masters and Mistresses chose to have their slaves seated next to them. Others had them standing by their sides. A few, like the older gentleman with the “pony” girl, had them on the floor at their feet, and some of the Dominants sat with other Doms, while their slaves sat at other tables with slaves only.
Shelly sat with Martin, at a table with their host and four other “couples”. The others at their table included Dr. Pudenda and Nurse Drudge. Shelly had not realized from her visit to the good Doctor, but his nurse was apparently also his slave. Tonight, she wore black latex, like Shelly. The Nurse had a little difficulty when the meal was served, as her hands were cuffed together.
Martin introduced Shelly to the rest. She could not keep track of all their names, but all were Masters with female slaves. The slaves’ attire included leather, latex and satin, and no lack of bare flesh. One of the slaves wore an outfit which made quite an impression on Shelly. The entire costume was of dull steel, like the steel of Shelly’s collar and cuffs. Parts were solid metal, while at joints, like the knee and elbow, it consisted of what looked like medieval chain mail. The chest plate of the woman’s outfit made Shelly uneasy: it appeared to be molded perfectly to the contours of her breasts, except it was open at the nipples, the metal having been cut in a star-shaped pattern of points which dug sharply into the woman’s flesh.
Dinner went on for many courses, including various wines. While it all looked delicious to Shelly, she would not know how it tasted. She had a specially prepared meal served to her, consisting of dry salad, a plate with a small piece of broiled chicken and some steamed vegetables, and a roll. When she reached for butter to put on the roll, Martin slapped her hand. Obviously, Martin had already been advised of Shelly’s dietary restrictions, and had also informed his host’s kitchen staff of the same.
When dessert was served, chocolate mousse and small cakes, Shelly watched longingly. Not that she didn’t like the little plate of fresh fruits she had been brought, it was just that she really loved chocolate.
At last the meal came to an end, and their host invited the group to retire to the theater, at the other end of the house. -----

Part 21

Shelly’s parents were well-educated and well-heeled, and made sure that their daughter had been exposed to Art in all its varied forms. She had been to numerous Broadway plays and musicals, recitals, concerts, dance performances, museums, galleries and the like. Her own tastes included the above, plus jazz and rock concerts, performance art, movies and MTV. She pretty well thought she’d seen it all. Nothing she had experienced prepared her for the spectacle which followed.
Martin led her down a long hallway to the theater. It was a smaller version of a real theater, not like the screening rooms some of her friends’ parents had in Westchester. There was a stage, and seats arranged on a sloping floor, even a small balcony. Instead of the usual theater seats, there were couches and lounges of various sizes. Despite the unusually relaxed seating arrangements, the room still looked like it could accommodate over two hundred.
They walked down towards the the stage, and Martin chose a sofa for two, in the second row of seating. He had Shelly sit, while he himself stood facing the rear, watching the rest of the group file in.
The small stage was empty, save for a construction at the center, a pointed arch of shiny steel, about eight feet wide at the floor, and maybe ten feet high. On the floor at the center stood a pole which looked like a microphone stand, except at its top was a shiny black dildo, a very careful reproduction of an erect penis, complete with bulging veins. The dildo looked like it was about twice lifesize, with an enormous head. At its base where it joined the metal stand, was a wide flange.
Above the stage, angled downward, was a projection screen which ran the width of the stage, about thirty feet.
While Shelly wondered what sort of performance was going to take place, she noticed Martin waving to someone. She turned around to see who he was waving to, and immediately went pale.
It was the man who had accosted her in the coffeeshop that morning!
Martin was pulling her to her feet. Tonight, her tormentor in the grey ponytail wore a tuxedo which appeared to be an antique. He was accompanied by a middle-aged woman wearing a low-cut, short dress in what looked like stretch vinyl. The woman had huge breasts and rear, but the tiniest waist Shelly had ever seen.
As they approached, Shelly lowered her eyes, hoping that Martin would not notice her terror. Martin greeted the man warmly:
“Winston, I’m delighted that you could attend our soiree. But then, you were never one to avoid a party!”
“Winston, this is Shelly. Shelly, meet Doctor Winston Peabody, and his wife and slave, Vivian. You might have seen Winston about the B.U. campus. He’s a full professor of Classics.”
Shelly spoke up, although her heart was in her throat, and her voice faltering. “I’m pleased to meet you, Master Peabody.”
Peabody laughed. “Martin, I must admit we’ve already met, although we had not been formally introduced. I happened upon your little underclass brat this morning in a coffeeshop near the University. I took one look at her, and guessed from her dress that she was yours; I toyed with her a bit, but she ran off. I won’t fault you for her lack of training, though, as I understand she is a neophyte. I do hope that you will lend her to me, once her training has progressed a bit. Or perhaps, you would like me to give you a hand in breaking her?”
“Winston, Shelly didn’t mention a thing about your encounter this morning. Thank you, I’ll have to properly punish her for failing to tell me. Of course, you may have her for as long as you like, but only as soon as I feel satisfied with her preparation. I do appreciate your offer to help out, and I’m well aware of your expertise in the field. I must decline, though, as I have planned a very specific course for her enlightenment, and I want to be the sole architect of her transformation. I do hope you will be impressed with the finished product.”
“Martin, if your skills as a Dom are anything even close to your business acumen, I’m sure the results will be striking, no pun intended!”
As the two men laughed, the house lights flashed to signal that the “show” was to begin. They took their seats.
The house lights faded, leaving the room pitch black for a moment. A single spotlight came up, illuminating Simon Kagan, standing at the side of the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Masters and Mistresses, dear friends. We have prepared a performance which I believe you will find amusing and stimulating. It is in two parts, with a brief intermission. Afterwards, refreshments will be served, and you will have the opportunity to enjoy the varied facilities, play and game rooms of my home. There are adequate accommodations for any and all who may wish to spend the night.”
“For tonight’s program, I ask you to take note of the new addition to my theater, the large screen above my head. I have arranged for live video, so that the spectacle onstage may also be enjoyed in close-up detail, even by those of you seated in the rear.”
As he spoke, a spotlight came up on center stage, bathing the metallic arch and center pole in bright light. The same image was projected on the screen directly above.
“Right now, I encourage you to sit back and enjoy the show.”
Both spots went black, then another spot came up, aimed at the other side of the stage. Jennifer, still in her maid’s “costume”, led another girl to the center of the stage. The girl was barefoot and naked, save for leather cuffs at her ankles, a leather mitt which covered both hands in front of her (it was by a chain attached to the end of the mitt that she was being led) and a black leather hood over her head. Jennifer left the girl there, and returned, pushing a serving cart which she positioned at one side of the arch. Then she walked off stage.
On the screen above, the naked, hooded girl was shown in extreme close-up, the camera panning from her feet to her head. Shelly noticed as the camera panned up that the girl was shaved smooth, and on her bare belly, just above the cleft, she bore a large tattoo of the letters “J.S.”
The stage lighting came up, and Simon stood beside the girl at center stage.
“Many of you know Rebecca, who is the property of Master Joseph Sokol. Joseph has graciously lent her to me, as the subject for this presentation. I don’t want to tire you with too much narration. Let us begin.”
He removed the woman’s hood, exposing a beautiful, young face. Taking the chain still attached to her mitt, he drew her arms above her head, and slowly turned her around.
“Joseph appreciates fine, unmarked flesh, and his slave’s skin is soft and supple, perfect for my exhibition.”
He dropped the chain.
“slave, you will worship the dildo with your mouth. Suck and lick the head and shaft.”
Rebecca immediately took her place behind the stand- mounted member, and began by kissing the tip, then sucking as much of it into her mouth as possible. The shot on the screen above showed her lips widely stretched. Shelly watched as she carefully licked the black plastic until it was dripping with her saliva.
While the slave was busy, Simon had lowered a cable and hook which descended from the top of the arch. He commanded her to stop and stand up. When she complied, he removed the chain from her mitt, and reattached the mitt to the hook, then moved to the side of the arch, where a crank operating a concealed winch permitted him to lift her until her ankles were four feet off the floor.
He took a metal rod from the cart, and connected it between her ankles, spreading her legs far apart. Then he lowered her slightly, positioning the rod in front of the pole with the dildo atop. He lowered her a bit further, until the top of the dildo came in contact with her rear. A close-up shot from behind showed him part the cheeks of her ass, and place the head of the dildo against her anus.
He again returned to the winch. The girl’s body slowly sunk down. A split-screen image above simultaneously showed her asshole as the huge dildo disappeared within, rending her, and her face, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth wide open as if to scream, but no sound came forth. Simon did not stop until the dildo was buried to the hilt. He took a pipe clamp from the cart, used it to attach the spreader bar firmly to the pole, at such a height that the slave’s knees were slightly bent. There was a bit of slack now in the cable attached to the mitt. Shelly saw that the girl now had a few unfortunate choices: she could try to hold herself up by her arms; put her weight on her ankles; or allow herself to be supported by the pole up her ass.
Simon spoke: “I think you’ll all agree that this bondage position is a wonderful torture in itself, but tonight it is simply the preparation. Many of us have had great fun with the application of clothespins. I want to show you a beautiful, meticulous approach to this kind of game.”
He walked over the cart, and took a metal clip from a large satin bag. The image on the screen showed it in extreme close-up. It was fashioned exactly like a spring type clothespin, except in shiny steel instead of wood. He hefted it in his hand.
“I have these made specially for me. The metal is much heavier than the usual wood kind, and the spring closure much stronger. The tip is coated in a slip-resistant silicone material. If any of you are interested, I can obtain more of them for your own use.”
“Before I begin to apply the clips, I’m going to prepare her skin. A light, all-over whipping with a brine- soaked leather cat will make her flesh more tender and sensitive. I have to be careful here, I don’t want to break the skin or produce any welts. Just a nice, all- over rosy flush.”
He began whipping her, starting with her ass. He moved up her back to her shoulders, up the backs of her arms and down the fronts, then began in on her breasts. Rebecca began to moan, softly. He whipped under her arms and down her sides, her belly, the front and insides of her thighs. A number of strokes were aimed carefully at the lips of her sex, and she squirmed as they landed. Simon continued down her legs to her feet, including the soles, and back up the backs of her legs, finally returning to her buttocks. Her entire body had turned an alarming shade of red.
“I have given great consideration to an erogenous zone which many of you may overlook for torture. You must be extremely careful to avoid real damage, but I feel it important that the face and head not be spared. One must be careful, though, to avoid the eyelids and eyes.”
Shelly watched in horror, as Simon whipped the girl’s face, including her lips and cheeks, ears, and her scalp. Rebecca’s face turned instantly crimson.
“That will do by way of preparation. Now for the clothespins.”
He picked up the satin bag and withdrew a handful of the clips.
A close-up on the screen showed Rebecca’s face, tears running down her fiery cheeks, her eyes wide in fear. Another shot had Simon’s hand, clip squeezed open, as he approached one of the slave’s breasts. He closed the clip directly over her nipple. She gasped. He immediately applied a clothespin to the other nipple.
“The drama here is to take your time. Allow your subject to savor the sensation just long enough, then proceed. With your indulgence, I have hundreds of these lovely clips, and we shall find out how many can be placed before I run out of room!”
While Simon spoke, Martin lifted Shelly on to his lap, and snapped the covers from her breasts and crotch. He ran his hand over her breasts and labia, then toyed with one nipple while his other hand burrowed within her thighs. Shelly wanted to close her eyes and give in to the caress, but could not look away from the stage, and the screen above.
Simon parted Rebecca’s cunt lips, placing a clamp on each side, then two more clamps, one on each earlobe. Now he began placing clamps on the breasts again, a number of them in circles just beyond the nipples.
The process of placing the clothespins upon Rebecca’s body went on for some time, Simon stopping and starting while he watched the reactions on her face. Before he was done, a row of clamps had been placed on each ear, clamps in her nostrils, clamps between her toes, sixteen of them on the lips of her cunt and a few on her unusually long clit, even some on the opening of the vagina itself. More clamps ran up and down her arms and legs, her stomach and ribs, armpits, anywhere enough flesh could be grasped to give the clamp hold. Rebecca’s eyes were red from crying, and she alternated between whimpers and low moans.
She had yet to actually cry out.
Simon placed a line of clothespins along Rebecca’s jaw, then ringed her lips with them. He ordered her to stick out her tongue, and then placed two final clamps at its tip. He was done, and stood back to admire his handiwork. There was a round of applause.
“We’re all aware that the pain of the clamps themselves is pale in comparison with the sensation achieved when the clamps are removed, and the blood rushes back in. I think you will appreciate my technique for removing the clothespins.”
He picked up a long, thin riding crop from the cart, swished it in the air in front of Rebecca’s face for effect.
“Joseph has asked me to be cautious not to break or seriously mark her skin. I’m going to apply the crop to the clips themselves. If I hit them just right, they open just a little, and that combined with the flinching caused by the pain causes them to fall off.”
His first stroke was applied to the first clothespin he had placed, the one on Rebecca’s left nipple. She let out a scream, and the clothespin fell off. Simon continued with the right nipple. She screamed again.
Simon continued, expertly aiming the crop at one after the other of the clothespins. Now, the girl’s screams were continuous. A few of the clips were in places were the crop could not be easily aimed without hitting skin first: here, such as the cunt lips, he used the leather loop at the end of the crop to catch one edge of the clamp, and flick it off.
After a few minutes, all the clamps were off, except for those on the slave’s head. These, Simon removed by hand.
Rebecca’s flesh was red, covered with little marks in deeper red at every spot a clothespin had been placed.
Simon motioned, and Jennifer returned to the stage. She removed the pipe clamp which bound Rebecca’s legs to the pole, and then removed the spreader bar. Simon slowly cranked the winch, lifting Rebecca off the dildo, and then lowered her to the floor, Jennifer helping her to remain standing, and patting her skin with a small towel to dry her sweat. Simon approached, took Jennifer’s place, and removed the mitt from Rebecca’s hands.
“Joseph asked me to reward his slave if she withstood her treatment. By way of reward, I think a triple penetration is in order. Don’t you agree?”
There was applause, and cat-calls.
“I’ll need some volunteers.”
While participants were chosen, Jennifer returned with a padded bench that resembled an exercise bench, except higher, with a number of appendages which looked like they could support various limbs.
Simon had Rebecca fall to her knees. Each of the volunteers stood in front of her, in turn. She opened their trousers, taking out their cocks which she sucked and caressed until they were hard.
One of the men lay down on the bench. Simon had the slave climb on top of him. There were places on either side for her knees and feet. Then she sunk down on to him, his cock buried deep in her. A second man positioned himself behind her, pushing himself to the hilt inside her rectum, while the third took his place straddling the bench, and grabbing her head behind the ears, forced the length of him inside her mouth.
Shelly watched in astonishment. Just a few minutes ago, this girl was being painfully abused, for the amusement of the audience. Now, she was a fucking-piece, a set of openings all stuffed with cocks. From the movement of her body, Rebecca seemed to be enjoying it! Shelly’s emotions were out of control. She found the scene unbelievably exciting, and Martin’s attention to her tits and cunt didn’t make her any calmer. At the same time, she imagined herself as the subject of the scene onstage, and she was filled with a strange mix of revulsion and desire.
The scene didn’t last very long. Within a few minutes, the entire group of three men and one girl had one huge, almost simultaneous orgasm, like a single strange multilimbed organism fucking itself. The men left the stage, and Jennifer escorted Rebecca, who could barely walk, to the sound of thunderous applause.
Intermission was announced.

Back Bay
by Edwardo
Part 21 (cont.)
Intermission consisted of drinks and small cakes served in the hall just outside the theater. Though the cream puffs looked delicious, Martin made sure that Shelly kept to the sparkling water. They returned to their seats.
Simon Kagan returned to the stage, beaming.
“Dear friends, thank you for your overwhelming praise of my little demonstration. For the remainder of tonight’s performance, I am extremely pleased to enable you to witness a ritual which is seldom seen in such a public setting as this.”
“Master Paul Edwards is training a new slave, Jessie, and she has just recently attained the level of servitude where he feels she is fit for ultimate thralldom.”
“Like so many of us, Paul follows in the footsteps of Sir Stephen. Tonight, for the first time on our stage, the slave Jessie will be pierced. You will be able to view the entire proceedings in close-up detail on our projection TV system, and the entire event will be recorded on videotape for posterity!”
“Jessie is to be pierced five times. Both nipples, both labia, and clitoris will be pierced, and rings inserted, while we all look on!”
There were appreciative “oohs” and “aahs” from the audience, and scattered applause. Shelly sat next to Martin, the pressure of her corset causing her to feel lightheaded. Or was it the dizzying rush of adrenaline in anticipation of what she was about to witness?
“I now turn the stage over to Paul, our friend Dr. Pudenda, Nurse Drub, and slave Jessie.”
Simon walked off, the stage going black for a few moments. A single spot came up at stage left, and a balding man of medium height, with a slight paunch entered. He was holding the end of a leash, attached to the other end of which was a fairly short girl, slight of build with auburn hair and tiny breasts. She was completely naked except for wide black cuffs on her wrists and ankles, and an extremely wide collar which made her hold her head very erect. The leash was attached to a ring in the collar. They stopped at center stage.
A second spot appeared at the right, where Dr. Pudenda and Nurse Drub (whose hands were no longer bound) came on, wheeling in an elaborate steel operating table. They brought the table to center, just behind Master Paul and slave Jessie.
Dr. Pudenda took a paper from below the table, and read aloud, in his strange accent:
“Jessie, you must answer the following question, distinctly so that all present may witness.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Your Master Paul has given his permission for you to be pierced, and for rings to be placed in both your nipples, both labia, and a vertical piercing which will pass through your clit. Do you understand and agree to the procedure that is about to take place?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Kneel before your Master.”
The slave knelt at her Master’s feet.
“Repeat after me: I Jessie, slave to Master Paul,”
“I, Jessie, slave to Master Paul,”
“humbly request that my Master ennoble me”
“humbly request that my Master ennoble me”
“by the piercing and placement of his rings upon my body.”
“by the piercing and placement of his rings upon my body.”
“Master Paul: do you give your consent that slave Jessie be pierced this evening?”
Paul spoke: “I give my consent.”
“Then Master and slave will now both sign this covenant and release, Nurse Drub and I will witness.”
The signatures of Paul and Jessie were made and witnessed, and then the nurse escorted Jessie to the table, helped her up. Her wrists and ankles, arms, legs, neck and head, waist and shoulders were all clamped or strapped to the table, so that she was completely immobilised. The section of the table to which her bottom half was attached was separated, spreading her legs, and bending at the knee. While close-ups were shown on the overhead screen, Nurse Drub prepared the slave by first carefully scrubbing her breasts and crotch, and then applying liberal quantities of Betadine.
Dr. Pudenda and Master Paul approached the table. The nurse lifted the head of the table, which now pivoted so that Jessie was almost upright.
The Doctor motioned to Nurse Drub, who snapped a pair of surgical gloves over his hands. He turned to the audience.
“I am aware that many of you are old hands at piercing, I do not intend to bore you with needless lecture. For the novices among us, I should explain that there are many types of piercings, different kinds of jewelry which which they may be adorned, and several methods of producing holes through which the jewelry may pass.”
“Tonight, I will use two different techniques, one for the nipple and clit piercings and another for the labia. The first is quite simple, involving nothing more than marking the skin with the desired entry and exit point for the piercing, the application of a Pennington forceps, and the piercing achieved by means of the careful insertion of a hollow needle, followed by the ring itself. The rings we are using tonight are gold, and have a screw closure, making them removable if need be. They can also be soldered or glued shut. Once the ring is inserted, it should remain in place at least until the piercing has healed.”
“Now we begin. I will not provide any further narrative, so as not to interfere with your enjoyment of the proceedings.”
The Nurse handed him a gold ring, about one and one-half inches in diameter, and and eighth of an inch thick, with a small ball in the middle. He held it near the slave’s right nipple, and consulted with Paul as to the placement. He handed the ring back to his nurse.
From a tray of instruments, he took a long pin, dipped it into a vial of dark liquid. He used it to make two small dots, on either side of Jessie’s right nipple, just at the base. This was repeated on the left. He looked to Master Paul, who nodded his assent.
Nurse Drub handed the doctor a scissor-like clamp, with triangular jaws. He opened the clamp, and deftly applied it to Jessie’s right nipple, well behind the markings he had made. As he closed it, Jessie winced.
Shelly winced too.
Next, while he held the clamp, the nurse handed him a large guage needle. He held the needle against one of the markings he had made, while his nurse held a rubber cork against the other side.
A close-up shot on the screen overhead showed the clamp, nipple, needle and cork in one frame, Jessie’s face in another. Shelly didn’t want to look at either but couldn’t take her eyes away from the spectacle.
In one deft movement, Dr. Pudenda pushed the needle into the slave’s nipple and out the other side. Jessie’s eyes closed, her mouth opened as if to scream. Only a low moan emerged from her lips.
The nurse took one of the gold rings and gently bent it open, handed it to Pudenda. He butted one side of the ring against the needle which passed through the nipple, then pushed the needle out the other side, the ring replacing the needle. The clamp was removed, the ring twisted back together and the little ball screwed closed. One piercing was now complete. The nurse wiped a drop of blood from Jessie’s breast with a cotton ball.
Shelly felt faint, at the same time a tingling sensation ran from her nipples, down her belly to her clit. How could something so horrible, so barbaric, be making her so excited?
Without wasting a moment, the clamp was applied to the slave’s left nipple, and the procedure was repeated. All that was heard was Jessie, moaning.
Both nipple rings now closed in place, the table was tilted back to horizontal. All that could be seen of Jessie onstage was her widely spread and bent thighs, strapped to the table, and her open cunt, shaved and prepped for the next part of this ritual surgery.
Dr. Pudenda turned to the audience. “I had said I would not speak further, but I feel I must explain a little about the next procedure. I have performed hundreds of piercings, and for the labial piercings which are to take place next, I have developed a special instrument and technique. In essence, rather than using a needle to achieve the labia piercing, I will use a device which is essentially similar to a leather punch. It is capable of producing a much larger, accurate piercing of this kind of tissue. Because of the large piercing, there will be some blood, but electrocautery will handle that nicely. No sutures are generally required. The pain is fairly intense, but short-lived.”
“Because of the discomfort, the slave will be provided with a bit-gag, so that she does not bite her tongue.”
This time, Master Paul took the gag, moved towards his slave’s head. He bent over and kissed her gently on the forehead. Jessie opened her mouth and Paul inserted the gag, lifting her head slightly so that he could fasten the buckle behind.
What followed was a very carefully choreographed performance. If Shelly had previously questioned Pudenda’s skills as a doctor, she doubted no more. Aside from the perverse nature of the operation, and the lack of anesthesia, this could have been any delicate surgery, performed quickly and deftly.
Nurse and doctor worked with few words. Instruments were offered and accepted. Clamps were placed on both of Jessie’s labes, care taken to ensure proper position. A large device with scissor-like handles was placed in the opening of one clamp. Once positioned, the handles were squeezed shut, eliciting a scream from Jessie which even the gag could not suppress. The handles opened again, blood flowed freely from the wound. The flow was quickly stopped with cauterization: the acrid smell of burnt flesh wafted by. The two steps were repeated on the other side, and the clamps removed. Nurse handed doctor two large oblong hinged rings, each about two inches in length, maybe half that in width. The rings were inserted in the new piercings and closed.
The entire procedure had taken no more than five minutes. Shelly watched in horror, white as a sheet and dripping in sweat.
There was one more piercing to be performed, perhaps the most horrible of all. The thought of a needle being passed right through the most sensitive spot had Shelly’s heart in her throat, and it wasn’t she being pierced!
They tilted the table up briefly and removed Jessie’s gag, so that they could give her a sip of water from a cup with a straw. The gag was replaced, the table returned to horizontal.
Nurse Drub pulled back the hood of flesh which surrounded the clitoris itself, while the doctor placed a small clamp which kept the skin retracted. Entry and exit points were marked on the top and underside of the little nub, and another forceps was placed, causing Jessie to involuntarily buck. The straps on her waist, legs and ankles were tightened, to prevent any further movement.
The doctor was handed another sterile needle, and another rubber stopper. Shelly closed her eyes, only to feel a sharp pain in her chest, Martin was pinching her nipple, hard, and pointing to the stage.
Dr. Pudenda’s position between Jessie’s legs blocked the view, but the screen overhead held two close-ups: the slave’s face, and an extreme tight shot of her sex, her distended, throbbing clit at center frame. The needle was positioned above, the stopper below, and in one, horrifyingly slow but steady movement, the needle penetrated the nub and was pushed through.
Jessie’s already pale face went white, her eyes wide. She began to scream, and then, nothing. She had lost consciousness.
While the doctor continued, Nurse Drub flew into action. She removed Jessie’s gag and loosened most of the bonds around her upper body. She checked for pulse, listened for breathing. When she was sure that Jessie was in no danger, the nurse took a towel and wiped the sweat from the slave’s head and torso.
While the nurse had been moving quickly, Dr. Pudenda, working at Jessie’s other end, was calmly inserting the gold ring , which now passed vertically through Jessie’s clit. He screwed the ring closed, removed the clamp retracting the hood, and applied an antibiotic ointment to the three lower piercings, and then to the piercings at the nipples. The work was complete.
The room was silent. Jessie’s legs were brought together, the table tilted up slightly. Nurse Drub left the stage, returning moments later with a steel bucket, which she handed to Master Paul. He dumped its contents, ice cold water, over Jessie’s head, and she gasped, regaining consciousness.
The audience stood almost as one, applause shook the room. While Nurse Drub removed the slave’s bonds, Dr. Pudenda took a small bow and left. Paul gathered Jessie up in his arms, kissed her, and carried her slowly from the stage.
Martin looked at Shelly, then spoke: “I had no idea that we would witness such an exquisite scene this evening. I’m not sure you were ready to see this, but I’m delighted you did. It’s time for us to go.”
Taking Shelly by the elbow, Martin headed quickly for the back of the hall. He found Simon, and thanked him, making apologies for leaving early. He took Shelly to the foyer where they found their coats, and summoned John, who brought up the Rolls. John opened the door for them, and Martin helped Shelly into the back, then followed her in. John pulled out of the drive, and they headed back towards Boston.
(to be continued, soon I hope!)
• comments welcome, as always,
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• Edwardo