Gromet's Plaza Richard Alexander Stories
Monica's Quest
by Richard Alexander
© 2002 - Richard Alexander - Used by permission.
storycodes: MF/mf; bondage; bdsm; cons/nc; XXX
Monica’s Quest Book 2 of the Monica Chronicles by Richard Alexander
Monica's Quest: 8. The Repeat Customer - Trish's story by Richard Alexander MF/mf; bondage; bdsm; cons/nc; XXX
Chapter Eight: The Repeat Customer - Trish's story
Part One
It was a Sunday pretty much as perfect as any winter day in Brisbane could be.  Cool and crisp, a cloudless sky and peace reigning in the land of Bilboes.  I would have been enjoying the quietness of the house had the reason for that quietness not been the disappearance of Jill and Leila.  I did not envy the others in their quest to find them.  The best Mary and I could do was to make sure everything functioned smoothly in Monica’s absence. 

And yet even though the house had an unfamiliar quietness, and even though I put my unsettled state down to the uncertainty surrounding Jill and Leila, in the back of my mind I sensed there was something more.  I could not put my finger on it, but something was not right.  It was kind of like the feeling you have when you are being watched, or when people say someone walked over their grave.

This Sunday was a quiet day of it’s own accord.  Ditzy Lisa was the only client we had booked in, for four hours.  Perhaps the fact that it was a long weekend may have had something to do with the unusual lack of activity.  Shawnee was around, of course, doing what she was told and acting as a good slave should.  Mary had decided to take the day off and go exploring the Riverside Markets and meet some friends, which I thought was unusual, because I didn’t think she actually had any friends.  By that I don’t mean to be unkind to Mary, since few of us have much of a life outside Bilboes, although that said Mary can be a bit intimidating at times – as I had so recently experienced - and it’s not surprising she is somewhat of a loner.

That’s the funny thing about Bilboes.  We meet some interesting people and the girls all get on so well together.  Monica has strict rules about dating clients, however, so that particular avenue is a bit of a dead duck.  Since Steven came along, however, things have changed, and Steven is such an amiable guy it’s usually not too much of a problem to lure him into a girl’s bedroom if things are getting a little frustrated.  I think most of them have succeeded at some time or other - although of course Jill and Emma tend to be an item in themselves - under such circumstances.  All very discrete and all in the best possible taste, of course.  Not sure about Mary, though.  Kept herself very much to herself did Contrary Mary. 

Of course Monica wanted to get her claws into Steven in a very proprietary way once she found out his ‘abilities’, but he cleverly didn’t fall for that.  Oh sure, he had his way with her – or her with him – but he stopped short of becoming a one-woman man, which did surprise me.  And all things considered, the group still functioned as a whole – ain’t Nature wonderful!

Mary appeared as I ate breakfast and perused the excuse for a Sunday paper.  Tall and elegant, she wore a lovely burgundy dress that showed off her legs to perfection.  The day was just cool enough to warrant a black leather jacket which matched her high-heeled boots and shoulder bag.  Mary never did things by halves.

“I’m off, Trish.  Anything you want from the markets?”  Well, Mistress Mary was in a good mood this morning.  Maybe the period in the wardrobe with the vibrator down her trousers had loosened things up a bit.  “No.  Thanks anyway.  What have you done with Shawnee?”

“She’s weeding the garden in the car park., chained to a tree.  Got plenty to do for another half-hour, I guess, then needs to be relocated.  I let her keep her clothes on because of the sun.  She has a number two up her arse just to keep her from sitting down on the job.”

I laughed.  “Okay.  Have a good time.”

“I’m taking the beamer.  See you later.”

One thing about Monica, she did not mind us borrowing her BMW.  For the small number of times we needed it, it saved heaps over having to have cars of our own.  I settled down to read the funnies, without a doubt the most erudite and entertaining part of the paper.

*   *   *

I gave Shawnee the suggested half hour before I went out to check on her progress.  She was chained to a small palm tree with the chain locked to her collar, giving her a radius of about five metres to weed.  I stopped at the sight of her and smiled.  Mary had a devious sense of humour sometimes.  Shawnee was clothed all right – from head to toe in a black latex catsuit, complete with hood.  It was the typical style with slits at the crotch and over the breasts, and it was unusual for Shawnee to be allowed to wear such a garment.  Shawnee sported a chain about her waist with a connecting chain through her crotch to hold in the Number 2 plug that Mary had told me about.  What she had not mentioned, however, was the piece of three-millimetre wire protruding from the plug.  It was about a metre long, and exited turning down between her legs, following her crotch as far as her pussy, then doubling back to pass the plug and take off vertically like a tail.  At the tip was a small day-glow pink flag with the inscription “Slave At Work”.  As Shawnee moved, the tail wobbled about like an aerial.  It would surely have been uncomfortable, and the plug was obviously not coming out until the chain was unlocked.  There was clearly going to be no sitting down for her.

Mind you, after Shawnee’s performance in not releasing Mary or me from the way we had been left by Warren, she had paid dearly the previous day, being made to wear the battery powered zapper up her bum all day, together with nipple rings connected to the same zapper, which was activated by remote controls Mary and I carried.  It had been developed by a friend of Steven’s at his behest, and had been employed regularly as aversion therapy on a pair of twins we had recently had to educate into civilised behaviour.  In Shawnee’s instance it was a punishment and both Mary and I used it at will during the day.  No matter how well Shawnee performed, she would receive a zap simply if we felt like it.   In truth, the poor girl had been doomed no matter what she did, given our helpless state.  Had she freed us she would have been punished by Warren.  From our perspective it was simply a matter of proper form.  One could not have the staff disobeying One, no matter what One’s customers had told One’s staff to the contrary.  Obedience to One was paramount.

After she had performed a serious number of extra chores the previous day, all the while gagged and blinkered, she had spent the night in the smallest of the niches under the stairs, unable to stretch out.  I figured time outside should now be a pleasant change for her.

“Have you finished this bit, Shawnee?” 

Shawnee jumped, for she had not heard my approach on the asphalt.  She stayed on all fours, but nodded her head affirmatively, making an mmphing sound.  This told me Mary had inserted some form of ball into the girl’s mouth before locking the rubber hood on with a plastic tie through the brass eyelets around her neck.   I inspected the garden area.  Shawnee had done a good job, not that I wanted her to know that.

“What’s this?” I demanded, nudging a small piece of grass with my toe.  There was some more mmphing from under the rubber as Shawnee scrabbled to remove the offending weed.  I noticed then that she was wearing rubber mitts, obviously selected by Mary to make things just that much more of a struggle for her slave.  There was no denying Mary’s attention to detail. 

“Hmm.  All right.  It will do, I guess.”  I patted the rubber-clad head.  “Time to relocate you, I think.  And remember if you do a crap job Mary will have your ass – I mean your ‘arse’.”  Bloody Aussie language still caught me out sometimes.  “Either one will do for her.”  I unlocked the chain from the palm tree.  “Get up, girl – stop grovelling.”  Shawnee got to her knees and as she whined in complaint only then did I see the two large lead balls hanging on strings tied tightly to her nipples that protruded through the slits in the rubber.

“Oh ho,” I observed.  “Mistress Mary wants to keep you down where you belong – on your hands and knees.  Clever.  Well – pick them up, you can carry them with you, girl.”  Mary was good.  Half a metre of twine meant the balls could rest on the ground while Shawnee was in weed-pulling mode, but the moment she sat up to admire the view – ouch!  I towed Shawnee across to another palm tree near the front steps and locked the chain around it.  The big brown eyes stared at me from the eyeholes in the hood. 

“All right – don’t just stand there looking stupid.  You know what to do.  Get on with it!” 

Shawnee was back on all fours grappling with the mitts in pulling out the weeds.  I stood and watched her for a couple of minutes, before I got an uneasy feeling again.  I was sure someone was watching me.  I looked around, but all was perfect in the Bilboes Garden of Eden. 

Still trying to shake off the feeling of disquiet, I headed back inside to prepare for Ditzy Lisa.  We called her that because her mind seemed to leap off at tangents and you never knew what would come out of her mouth – when it was not stuffed with something, that is.  Lisa was also unfailingly cheerful, not to mention being a total pain slut.  For all her vivacity, Lisa could not get enough of the punishment we dished out.  She was such a good client we had special rates for her and often tried out new torments on her.  Lisa took it all in her stride, as we endeavoured to show her the error of her ways.  It was a losing battle, we all knew.

I went back to my room, deciding that today would be a nice leisurely session.  I could do a lot with Lisa – a lot to Lisa – in four hours.  I might even take a little longer.  I wanted to be comfortable for this session and selected some of my favourite clothes.  While we had a central storeroom with all manner of accessories, we also had our own private collections.  I decided today would be a white leather day, just for a change from the black that seemed so often to be de rigueur in Bilboes.  I had a nice outfit that comprised a halter-neck bra and a short skirt that zipped up the front.  The bra had cut-outs for my nipples which I figured was appropriate, since I had decided that Lisa was going to be earning her way today by providing me with a little servicing. The front-zipped skirt would also provide easy access for Lisa’s delicate tongue, especially since I wore nothing underneath.  I buckled on a wide black leather belt over the top for a touch of contrast, then pulled on white boots that laced up the front nearly to my knees.  The boots had three-inch heels – not excessive and sufficiently broad to make four hours in them quite comfortable.  I covered the outfit with a white leather raincoat, for it was still not exactly a summer temperature, and my nipples took objection to the fresh air.  Thus attired, I made my way back to the house to prepare for my client.

*   *   *

“Good morning Mistress,” said Lisa when I answered the door.  She was perhaps five centimetres taller than me, her blonde hair long and straight to her breasts.  It was a striking feature, and had been used many times to secure her in uncomfortable positions.  Today she was wearing a neat grey suit, black stockings and black high heels.  It all seemed completely out of character, for Lisa was totally Bohemian – given to long velvet skirts and other retro stuff from the seventies.

“Lisa, why are you dressed like that?” I asked.

“I’ve been to church, Mistress.”

“To church?”   Why would somebody as depraved as Lisa be going to church, I wondered?   “What for?  To pray for guidance?”

She smiled.  “Of course not, Mistress – to pray for the chickens.”

I sighed.  I didn’t want to go down this road. 

“Lisa, I can see why we have to keep you gagged so much of the time – you talk nothing but crap.”

“No, really Mistress, chickens have such a terrible existence in those breeding farms…”


“Yes Mistress?”

“Shut it.”

“Yes Mistress.”

 And as usual she was obscenely cheerful – despite the apparent plight of the chickens.

“And why are you so damned happy, Lisa, considering I’m going to spank the shit out of you?” I demanded, put out at this show of enthusiasm for life.

“I’m just glad to see you, Mistress.”

“Yeah, right.”  I frowned at her, doing my best to look disapproving, but I’m sure it made no difference whatsoever.  “Go downstairs and wait in the Rack Room.”  I opened the door under the stairs and she disappeared with a clatter of heels down the concrete steps. 

I gave her five minutes to look over the big wooden frame that encompassed the rack, and to perhaps consider in her mind the possibilities that existed for restraint of the human form within the myriad of pullies, hooks, eyebolts and beams.  And that was before we had even got to the rack stretching itself.

Lisa was turning the wheel at the end of the rack when I entered the room. She was watching how the ratchet system gradually pulled the ropes that would normally be attached to a pair of wrists, while the ankles were secured at the other end of the padded bench.  I took off my coat and hung it up.

“Have any of the other Mistresses ever put you on this?” I asked.

“No Mistress.  It looks fun.”

“You’re nuts, Lisa.  Totally, over-the-edge nuts.  Maybe you won’t think it’s so funny when you go home two inches taller and none of your clothes fit.  Then you’ll have to go and buy a completely new wardrobe, because the legs on your jeans and the sleeves on your shirts will be way too short.” 

Her eyes widened.  “Really?” 

“Not so funny all of a sudden, huh?”

“I always wanted to be taller,” she said to the room as if I wasn’t there.

“And Lisa, take off that ridiculous suit – it doesn’t become you at all.  You could be mistaken for an accountant.”  She began to undo the jacket.  I was lying, of course – she looked quite stunning in it.  And quite different from the hippie refugee image she normally portrayed.  The skirt dropped to the floor. 

“I can understand that Mistress.  I’ve often been mistaken.”

“What?  For an accountant?”

“No, I’ve just often been mistaken.”

I rolled my eyes.  Sometimes having a conversation with Lisa was like walking through a hall of mirrors. You never knew where you were going, where you were, and what was the point of it all.

“That’s enough!  Now the blouse, girl.  And hang them up on the peg over there.  I hope you’re not this sloppy at home!”

“Oh no Mistress!  I don’t normally wear clothes at home.” 

Uh-huh.  Why was I not surprised?  She stood smiling at me in her bra and pants, under which she wore a black garter belt holding up the black stockings.  I noticed they were seamed, giving her a curiously old fashioned, but nevertheless very attractive look.

“Lose the bra and pants, Lisa.  The rest may stay.  You look kind of dishy.” 

Did I just say ‘dishy?’

“Why thank you, Mistress.”

“I meant ‘slutty’.”

“Of course you did, Mistress.”  She flashed a shy smile and unhooked the bra.  Her breasts were well proportioned for her height, without being over-large.  The aureoles were large and pink while the nubs stood erect in the basement air conditioning.  Encircled by the black of her garter belt her blonde thatch looked soft and inviting.  Yes, I was going to have fun with slutty Lisa today.

I spread her stockinged legs on the long side of the rack, tying them off to the posts at each end.  She was stretched widely, feet perhaps a metre apart, facing the padded bench, away from the door.  I buckled a leather blindfold over the blonde hair.

“Bend over the platform,” I ordered, admiring the firm cheeks of her arse as she eased the top half of her body on to the leather padding.  Even the act of bending at the waist could be a strain with feet that wide apart, for the rotation on the hips was difficult for most people, but Lisa, I had discovered, had extraordinary flexibility.  Despite this ability, I had fixed a rope between her ankles, to ensure her feet, in the high heels, did not slip out from under her.

I let her wait a few minutes while I removed my gear from a carry bag I had filled in the storeroom.  I buckled on a strap-on dick – a ‘strappadictomy’ as we called it – undoing the zip to my skirt almost to the top, to let the flesh-coloured member poke out.

With the bare minimum of lubrication on it, I gripped her cheeks and lined it up with her butt hole.

“Arrgh!” exclaimed Lisa at the first thrust.  “It hurts!  Mistress!  Aren’t you going to gag me?”

“Not yet, Lisa dear.  I want to hear your thoughts on what’s going to happen to you.”  I could hear her breath coming faster and see her hands gripping the edge of the bench.  I was only half way in, prolonging the penetration, a little more in, a little bit out, deeper each time. Lisa was grunting and panting and groaning under her breath as I finally pushed all the way home.  She stiffened and let out a ragged sigh.  I felt the first stirring of a push back.

“None of that.  Don’t you dare even think about coming until I say you can!”

“But Mistress…”

“And don’t talk back or you’ll get the biggest inflatable gag I can find.  Give me your wrist back here – now the other one.”  I strapped her wrists together, palm to palm, using the equipment I had left on the bench beside her, then grabbed a red leather arm binder and slipped her hands into it.  It took me several minutes of lacing to get her arms securely bound up past her now-touching elbows.  All my tugging and manipulating was telegraphing down to my crotch where the dick was still buried in Lisa’s arse.  She was starting to wriggle and squirm in response to my own movements, all of which transferred to my own clit. 

I leaned over Lisa’s body to get the straps over her shoulders and under her armpits, giving her a final deep penetration in the process and stirring a few quite blissful feelings on my own side.  As I buckled the straps between her shoulder blades I humped her several times, eliciting little squeals – I’m not sure of pain or pleasure, but I know what I felt.  I eased my hands under her breasts and squeezed the rock hard nipples, drawing forth a groan.

“Oh-oh-oh-Mistress… oh, please don’t stop…” I felt her body thrust back against me and start to move rhythmically against the invader embedded in her butt hole.  That was when I withdrew abruptly, which really brought forth a protest.  I picked up a riding crop and let her have it three times on each cheek, quickly and hard.  She jerked and cried with each strike, but continued to grind her crotch into the bench padding.

“You slut,” I said. “Stand up!” I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her backwards until she was upright again.  Dammit, why did she get off so fast!  I was the one doing the controlling around here.  It should be me getting the best deal!  I undid the strap-on and climbed on to the bench, sitting in front of her and pulling her against me so that she could find my nipples through the cut-outs in my bra.  “Get to work there.  Maybe that will keep you quiet for a bit.” 

Lisa was pretty good, I’ll say that.  Her tongue worked magic on my nipples.  I thought they had been stiff at that point, but within seconds they had become like granite, and supersensitive into the bargain.  I gripped her by the shoulders and directed her questing but blind mouth as she sucked and nibbled.  As I felt the heat build up I bent her head down and wrapped my legs around it as she dived into my pussy, while I moved back far enough to grab an overhead rope to support myself as my rear found the opposite side of the bench. 

Things did not take long to reach the boil and within a minute I found myself bucking and squirming as she brought me to a climax.  I let out a long drawn out moan of pleasure, arched back as I was, straining on the rope above.  I let the feelings linger as the momentary flashes and spasms died away, before releasing my thigh grip on her head.

“You were pushing your luck before, Miss,” I told her sternly.  “Trying to sneak an orgasm in with no approval.  This time you will get gagged, because your punishment will be painful.”

“I thought I was goo—urgh!” she managed to say before I worked a large rubber ball on a harness behind her teeth.  I buckled the main strap behind her neck and under her hair, then did up the strap under her chin and the one between her eyes and over the top of her head.  Her breathing was heavy now as I ran my fingers through her pussy. 

“Wet as the Brisbane River,” I told her.  “You are totally incorrigible.  What are you?”

“Urn-horrihlul,” she said.

“Do you know what that means?”  She shook her head.  “Liar.”  I caught her left breast with the multi-tailed flogger.  “It means you’re a stroppy tart who can’t get enough of it.”  I slapped her right breast, prompting a yelp from behind the rubber ball.

I really wanted to give her backside a good hiding, so I tied the D-ring on the end of the arm binder to a rope over a pulley ratchet above, and gently began to pull.  With a series of clicks the rope passed over the pulley on what was a one-way street for dear Lisa.  Her arms were going up and would not come down until I said so. 

“How’s that, Lise?” I asked with mock concern.  “Tight enough?”

“Mmmph…” came the plaintive whine.  I made the pulley click a few more time, her arms were nearly vertical now, with Lisa almost bent double, her head down below the level of the bench and her shoulders against the side of it.  She was breathing fast and making little whimpering sounds. 

“That enough, eh?”  She was nodding as best she could and making affirmative mmphing noises.  I gave it two more clicks and smiled as her complaints went up an octave.  “I’m going to have some lunch Lisa.  You’ll be all right for an hour or so, yes?”  This sparked off a flood of muffled grunts and protests, which only succeeded in prompting a further flurry of cuts with the riding crop against the now magnificently taut buttocks.  She jerked as much as she could, which really wasn’t much under the circumstances.  As a parting gift I installed a vibrating butt plug up her arse.  It wasn’t a large device, so that she could expel it if she wanted to. 

“If I find this on the floor when you get back,” I hissed at her, “you will get twenty strokes of the cane and another half hour in that position, with an even bigger plug in your arse.  If you can get yourself off without losing your toy, then I might even give you a tongue job myself.  Would you like that, Lisa?”  She moaned an affirmative. 

That was when I thought I heard a noise from upstairs.  It wasn’t much, since sound doesn’t travel well through the basement soundproofing, but it was enough to make me pause and listen.  It sounded like the doorbell.  There it was again – faint but clear.  Ordinarily it’s not something we take much notice of when downstairs, since normally somebody else answers it.  But I was puzzled.  Anybody coming to the door would have to get through the gate at the end of the drive first, which required electronic release by someone in the house, for those that didn’t know the access code.  The only thing I could think of in this case was that Mary had come home early and had forgotten her keys or was too loaded with packages to find them.

I quickly clipped a couple of pegs on to Lisa’s nipples.

“Don’t fall asleep there, sweetie,” I said.  “I’ll be back shortly. Gotta get the door.”

I trotted up the stairs and into the reception area.  I never gave things a second thought as I opened the front door. 

The Repeat Customer - Trish's story Part Two
The man had been standing at the side of the door, so that for a moment after I opened it there appeared to be nobody there.  I caught a glimpse of the rubber-clad Shawnee at the foot of the stairs, waving her arms and making muffled sounds under the hood.  She was at the end of her chain and the weights still tied to her nipples swung wildly as he tried to signal to me, all the while making a high-pitched keening sound.  That was the point when the fist came into my stomach from around the corner where the guy had been standing. 

I will attest that you can study all the self-defence stuff in the world, but when the fist takes you in the solar plexus and knocks the wind out of you, there is nothing you can do but fold up gasping like a deflated accordion.   I lay on the floor struggling to get my breath back, absolutely unable to resist as my attacker handcuffed my wrists behind my back and bound my ankles with two plastic ties.  When my eyes finally focussed and I had overcome my complete surprise to be able look at him, I saw with a shock that it was Wayne Bennelli. 

Wayne was an intruder who had once entered the house late at night and attempted to rape Jillian.  Mercifully Steven had caught him and overpowered him, and from that point Wayne had been our houseguest for about a week.  We had all participated in his re-education, which involved some role-play, some severe beatings, lots of threats, complete covering with sticky elastoplast, and the fitting of a stainless steel cock casing.  This alone would have involved a long and slow – not to say possibly embarrassing – removal process.  Oh yes, we had given him a fairly thorough electrical treatment as well, before finally releasing him.

All this came flooding back to me, and I realised that here was a man with a very, very big bone to pick with Bilboes.  In my breathless but slowly recovering state it dawned on me that this guy must have been watching the place for God knows how long, in order to get in when we were most vulnerable.  More specifically, when I was here by myself.  Well, not technically by myself, for I had a rubberised but mute watchdog chained to a tree near the front steps and a nutcase bound stringently in an arm binder downstairs.  I was rapidly developing the feeling that this was the pile of manure that had been waiting for me all my life, and I was now deeply embedded in it.

I sized up my captor as he stood above me.  My previous impression of him was of major hairiness – black hair over most of his body, a large portion of which would have been very painfully removed in the course of his removal of the elastoplast all those months before.  He was solid and strong – I remembered the care we had taken to keep him properly restrained at all times.  His eyes were also black, and when he smiled down at me they glittered in a way that sent a chill down my spine.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, rolling on to my back and glaring at him.

“Ohhh yesss,” he said with a slow drawl.  “I remember you.  The American chick.”


“Oh I’m so sorry… I do apologise.  Well, let me tell ya what I think I’m doing.  It’s very simple, babe.  It’s called revenge.  Revenge for the humiliation, pain and suffering – to be returned in kind.  And I intend to have a little fun along the way.  But first I want some information.  Like when is the tall chick coming back – the one driving the beamer?”

“Go fuck yourself!” I snarled.

“Okay,” he said genially.  “I reckoned you might do this.  In fact I was kinda hoping you would.  Why don’t we go downstairs and discuss this in a more civilized fashion?”

He picked me up with an ease that surprised me and hoisted me over his shoulder.  His denim shirt – and he – smelt of stale tobacco.  I tried to struggle but he gripped my legs by the knees and I was totally helpless to do anything other than verbally abuse him with every foul curse I could think of.  He left me sitting on the bottom step while he went exploring, looking in the post room, the storeroom sauna and so on.  I heard his exclamation at finding Lisa bound and gagged in the Rack Room. 

“Why don’t you come and keep your attractive friend company?” he suggested to me.

“Why don’t you crawl back under the stone you crawled out from,” I spat back.

“I really would be careful what I said if I was you,” he chided.

Lisa was mmphing and obviously wanting to know what was going on from her severely bent over and blindfolded position.

“Don’t worry Lise – everything will be okay,” I said, trying to be reassuring, but probably failing completely.

“Oh no it won’t!”  Wayne said smugly, dumping me down on the rack bench.  Before I could do anything, my ankles were bound further with the ropes secured to the foot of the rack.  As I sat up I felt him bind each wrist with the rope at the top end of the rack. 

“Look,” I said, trying reason.  “You can get out now and we won’t say anything.  Truly.  You won’t get away with this if you do anything stupid.”  He finished what he was doing and then rummaged in the carry bag I had brought in for Lisa.

“Look, lady.  I’m getting real tired of your yappin’. I suggest you have a long hard think about your position and how much pain you think you can stand, ‘cos believe me, I owe you guys a lot of it.  You may as well be the first in line.  I want to know when your friend is coming back, and when the others are due back from wherever they flew out to.”

“Get stuff-arhhhk!” I said as he forced a large ball gag into my mouth and buckled it excruciatingly tight behind my neck.

“Mmph-grk! Pphrt!” I protested feebly.

He ignored me and began to turn the wheel on the rack.  Oh shit, I thought… The rack was not meant for use in the sitting position.  My arms began to be pulled out behind me.  The handcuffs were still in place but the ropes were doing the pulling.  As my wrists went backwards I found myself in a terrible sitting strappado, with each click of the ratchet on the wheel putting more pressure on my arms and shoulders.  I grunted in pain, my breath fast and ragged and I whined as best I could behind the rubber ball.  That was the problem with amateurs carrying this sort of thing – they had no idea what they were doing and the pain it could cause.  Or did they?

He finally halted the turning just before I started screaming from the pain in my shoulders.  He walked around the rack looking me up and down and then Lisa.  It was her I was worried about, for I had had no time to even suggest that he ease her restraints.  The poor girl would soon be getting very stressed, although in truth if anyone could handle it, Lisa could.  Wayne stopped behind her, admiring the tautness of her buttocks.

“Been having a little fun, have we?  Look at these nasty red marks… Into this, are we?”  He picked up the riding crop and let loose a fearsome blow across Lisa’s cheeks.  She jerked and yowled into the gag, her head down below where I sat.  There was a soft plop as the vibrating butt plug that had been lodged in her hole popped out and landed on the floor, making a soft buzzing noise.  Then came another crack with the crop.  Wayne was big and the stroke carried his full force behind it.  Even in her stringent position Lisa managed to jump, or so it seemed.  There was no doubt she really felt the blow for she was keening like I had never heard her before.  Wayne retrieved the strap-on I had used before and inserted it into Lisa as though putting a plug into a socket.  Lisa wailed as he jiggled it then pushed it home, reversing the straps to tie them around the front of her doubled up body, catching a grope on the way.

“I’m gonna go looking for stuff,” he said.  “You know what I wanna hear when I come back.  Think about it.  Think about anal rape and ya blonde friend there as well.  Unfortunate position that, don’t ya think?  I wonder who put her there?”

*   *   *

The bastard was right in that I did have time to think about things, and whichever way I looked at it I was in major trouble.  Both Lisa and Shawnee were in my care, and all of us were now captive.  In the immediate future I didn’t see much chance of overpowering this character.  I did not know what he had planned for us or how long we were all to be kept like this. 

I sat there, leaning backwards, my upper body barely supported by my arms pulled hard out behind me, with my ankles bound to the foot of the rack.  It was one of the worst positions I had endured, made more so with each passing minute.  My breath rasped through my nose and every so often I grunted with the ache in my shoulders and arms.  Beside me was Lisa, although all I could see was the curve of the lower part of her spine, since her upper body was bent below the level of the bench.  Almost in touching distance were her arms, sheathed in the red leather arm binders, laced cruelly tight, the elbows touching.  I would normally have released her by now for something a little less stringent.  She made no sound, her world still dark under the blindfold.  She had no knowledge of Wayne Bennelli and his history within Bilboes, and I figured she must be wondering what was going on and why her Mistress was apparently now also secured to the rack by this male person.  Lisa was used to role-playing, though, and I wondered if she thought this was all part of another Bilboes special.

We stayed that way for perhaps an hour.  By the time my captor returned my shoulders were screaming their protest, and Lisa was starting to make little whimpering noises as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.  I could not imagine which aspect was giving her the most trouble - the leg stretch, the arm binder, the strappado position or the nipple clamps.  Or – as was usually the case in real life - “(e): all of the above”.

When Wayne returned he was full of questions.

“That gag can come out when ya have something to say,” he began.  “Just nod ya head when you wanna talk.  So where is the key to the chain on the rubber chick outside?”

I just looked at him.  If Shawnee was still there, maybe she could warn Mary when she returned. Obviously that was what Wayne was thinking.  The longer I could keep Shawnee in place the more chance I might have.  Unless I could fool him into think Mary was away for a day or two.

“No?  All right, let’s start with the simple stuff.  How many people live here normally?”  I ignored him, avoiding his gaze.  My attention returned when he gripped my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed.  His grip was like a vice and I gasped and screamed into the gag, screwing up my eyes and biting into the rubber ball.  “Want more?”  I shook my head but he reached across to my right nipple and repeated the effort, while I repeated my muted howling.  Then he tried both nips at once and I jerked and screamed some more.  Poor Lisa was making querulous noises in an effort to learn what was going on.  Shut up Lisa, for God’s sake! I thought.  Don’t draw attention to yourself!

Wayne seemed to like playing with my tits and the nips protruding through the holes in the halter-neck, and for a short while lost interest in the concept of asking questions, preferring to listen to me do muffled vocal gymnastics as the pain seared across from one nipple to the other.  I tried desperately to keep a part of my mind focussed on the question and how an answer might help or hinder me.

“This is fun,” he said.  “Maybe that question was too hard.  When is the tall chick coming back with the beamer?”  I shook my head dumbly, sniffling and making nasal moans as tears ran down my cheeks.  “Okay.  Maybe we need to open up things a little.”  His rough hands reached under my hair at the back of my neck and undid the halter, then did the same for the back strap of my bra. 

“Nice,” he exclaimed as he tossed it on the floor.  That cost a hundred and twenty bucks, arsehole, I wanted to say, but held my enforced silence, conscious of my vulnerability and not wanting to antagonise him further.  He fondled my breasts, the nipples now very red and sore.  His hands were big and rough, and his fondling had as much finesse as a public flogging.  I had a nasty feeling we would shortly be trying that out as well. 

I was not wrong, for he seized a multi-thonged flogger and let loose a series of thwacks over my body.  Unfortunately, because Lisa was bent over on my right-hand side, he could only attack from the left, and my poor left breast copped most of it.  I was struggling and crying from the pain and making all manner of pleas as the blows rained down on my breasts and belly and thighs. 

“Come on girlie, tell me when the other chick is coming back.” 

I sobbed some more and shook my head, but I could tell he was starting to lose patience.  When he swapped the flogger for the riding crop, my blood went cold.  He flicked it in front of my eyes then let loose a hard stroke across my thigh, just below the hem of my skirt.  Then one across my belly just above the black belt.  He paused as I struggled to catch my breath in between the waves of pain that seemed to rise from everywhere.  I knew he was looking at my breasts as he slapped the crop against his leg.

I shook my head desperately.  No, no!  Please - not that! 

“Nnn!  Nnn!”

The crop struck me just above my left nipple.  I went berserk, screaming into the ball and mph-mphing as the shocking pain tore through my flesh.  He followed it up with another blow across my right breast that caught the nipple squarely.  I thought I would die from the pain.  I was trembling from the shock and felt on the verge of passing out.

He stood back and surveyed my quivering, shaking body.  My eyes were screwed shut, tears streaming down my cheeks and drool running from the corners of my mouth.  I was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Wanna talk now?  Wanna tell me when the beamer’s coming back?”

In abject misery I nodded my head.  He lifted my hair and unbuckled the gag, prising it from behind my teeth.  The removal of the terrible ball brought on a fresh wave of crying and moaning that I could not stop.  In between gasps I begged him to release my arms, and to my surprise, he did.  I tucked my still-handcuffed wrists into the small of my back and turned on my side in an effort to ease the dreadful ache in my shoulders, which admittedly had paled somewhat compared to the fire in my breasts.  With each breath the fire seemed to be stoked further.  I could barely talk, so shocked was I, lying there gasping like a kid in the grip of a crying jag that has left it winded.

It took some minutes before I calmed down enough to think coherently.

“T-t-tomorrow n-night,” I sniffled.

“Any more customers today, then?” he demanded.


“Are you sure?” he said, slapping the crop menacingly on the leather of the bench.

“Yes-yes-I’m sure! Please don’t hit me again!”  God I hated myself for my weakness.

“So where’s everybody else?  Where are the two blondes and the Chink chick?  I saw them go off together.”

“Th-they went to Hong Kong to w-work,” I stammered through more tears.  I had decided on telling him everything I thought would keep him happy without compromising my friends, although I had no idea just what form such a compromise might take.  My only hope was Mary and Shawnee.  I did not know when Mary was coming home, but the longer I could keep Shawnee out the front the more chance I might have of warning Mary.  And if Wayne was convinced that nobody was due to appear in the near future, maybe he would not be so concerned about Shawnee.

“And the others?  The bloke and your boss?”

“They had to go and help out with the filming.”

“Leaving you here all alone, huh?”  He grinned.  “Except for rubber girl, of course.  So where’s the key to her chain?  I fancy a little fun with her.”

“Leave her alone, you bastard,” I said as confidently as I could, but feeling none of it.

“Ya don’t learn, do ya, babe?” he replied.  “Maybe a little more persuasion is in order.  I’m starting to enjoy this.”

He climbed on to the bench beside me.  I was tempted to try biting him in the leg but figured that would be a career-limiting move, and maybe even a life-threatening one.  There was no telling what this lunatic would do.  He reached up and unhooked a coil of rope which was looped over a pulley on the central beam which ran at right angles to the rack bench.  On the end of the rope was a solid hook, which he brought down and hooked under the buckle of my belt. 

Oh shit, I thought, as he climbed down and began to haul on the rope.  I found myself suddenly rolling on to my back again as the tension came on.  He reached down with one hand to untie the ropes securing my ankles to the rack, although they remained joined with the plastic ties he had put on them upstairs.  Then it was more hauling on the rope and I was gasping and scrabbling about as I tried to get my arms and legs under me to support my weight and lift my body clear of the platform.  My belt was wide and strong and gave me some support at the waist, but with my wrists handcuffed behind my back and my ankles bound it was all I could do to take some of the load off my belt.

Mercifully he stopped just as the palms of my hands were about to lose contact with the bench.  My back was arched and my head was thrown back.  I found myself looking at the world upside down.  The strain was awful.  Already weakened by the beating and the previous position I didn’t know how long I could survive this one.

“Wanna tell me about the keys now?” he asked, finishing tying off the rope to a nearby cleat.

“Do you know why the head of your dick is bigger than the shaft?” I said through clenched teeth.

“Oh ho – a joker, eh.  Tell me.”

“It’s to stop your hand flying off and hitting you in the eye.”

He didn’t seem at all amused.  “I obviously ain’t getting through to ya, girlie.  Maybe a little more exposure is what you need.  He climbed on to the bench again and unzipped my skirt.  He was fiddling with the button at the top when he found the pocket in which I had put the small ring of keys I used, one of which was master keyed to the lock on Shawnee’s chain.  My skirt fell away and he gave a grunt of triumph, although whether this was because of the exposure I now had, or his discovery of the keys I wasn’t sure.  I do know his hand groped my pussy in a way that would never be classed as romantic, and a stubby finger slid roughly inside me before he announced:

“Yes, I think you’ll be ready when I get back from dealing with Rubber Girl.  I think you’ll be just done nicely.  I take it this is the key I want?”

“Get fucked,” I said despondently, knowing that Shawnee was now about to be drawn into my nightmare.

He grinned.  “No honey – it’s you who’ll get fucked.  You and blondie here and Rubber Girl.  Shi-it!  This is just like Christmas!  And since you have such a foul mouth we should do something about that.”  Which was why I came to be gagged again, and in that terrible position with my head hanging backwards, forcing me to raise it upwards every minute or so to swallow the saliva accumulating in my mouth.

“When I come back we’re gonna have some real fun.  Maybe a little preparation will be in order.”  He took the handle of the flogger and inserted it into my pussy, worming it in as far as it would go until I was struggling and whining in protest.  “That better be there when I come back babe, or I’ll be using it on that snatch of yours.”

Then he was gone.  I hung there, sweating from the strain in my body and still hurting badly from the whipping.  I could feel the end of the flogger protruding between my thighs and was scared of what he might do with this on his return.  Poor Lisa was starting to get very restless and was whining plaintively.  That’s right Lise, I thought – throw a bit more guilt on my fire.

When Wayne returned, it was not with Shawnee in tow, and his mood had changed dramatically.

“Where is she, bitch?  She’s disappeared!  What the fuck’s going on?  How did she get free?” 

“Urrh?” I asked.  He was rattled.  He was faced with two possibilities – either Shawnee had somehow escaped of her own accord, or else someone had helped her.  Which meant either one or else two people were loose somewhere in the house or grounds.

“Who’s out there?” he demanded again.  “Maybe it’s time to give blondie here some treatment to help your memory!”  I shook my head at him, trying to convey to him that hurting Lisa would not help, for I had no idea what was going on.  I had a faint hope that Mary had returned early, but telling him would do nothing to help any of us.

Wayne undid the strap holding the strap-on in Lisa’s arse and extracted it in a single movement.  She groaned and squirmed, but could not see him pick up the riding crop.  He let loose a terrible series of blows on Lisa’s vulnerable thighs and buttocks.

“Nnnnnnmm!” came the muffled cry from below the level of the bench.

I closed my eyes at the terrible sight of this lunatic, but I could not close my ears to the sound of leather on flesh or the sound of Lisa hhmming and mmphing desperate pleas into her gag.  Abruptly he ceased and I heard the sound of a zip.  Oh no – you bastard, I thought!  Leave her be!

He was quite well endowed, I knew from our previous encounter, except when we had threatened to cut it off.  Then it had done the magical disappearing trick of its own accord.  This time, however, the whipping had obviously got him well aroused and he had an erection of significant proportions.  In his lust to inflict pain he had temporarily shelved the problem of whomever else might be outside.

Lisa squealed and groaned as he drove into her arse.  My heart went out to her and I felt the tears flowing again.  Wayne grunted and I felt I was sinking into a deeper pit of despair until I realised that the sounds coming from below me were mounting in a different pitch.  I opened my eyes and saw that Lisa was pushing back, her breathing becoming more rapid.  There was no mistaking the movements now, and she abruptly stiffened in a shuddering jerking movement, her groans reaching a nasal high-pitched peak.

“Urnn!  Urnn! Urnn!” she was yelling into the rubber ball, grunting and panting and struggling against the bindings holding her fast.  Wayne looked totally non-plussed and not a little put out.

“Shit!” he swore.  “You bitch!”  He withdrew and I saw he had lost his way, not to mention his erection.  So, pain slut Lisa had beaten him to the punch – go Lise!  Except that it did nothing to put him in a better mood.  He zipped up his fly and obviously decided I was to be the target, picking up the riding crop again. 

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnn!” I cried, unable to move from my exposed position and terrified of what was now about to befall me.

That was the moment everything went dark, and it took me a second or two to realise it was not a blackout on my part.  There was a curse from my captor as he collided with the rack.

“What the fuck…?”

In the basement it was totally black, devoid of even the faintest glimmer of light coming from a window or under a door.  I was suspended in inky darkness, my muscles on fire, my flesh tender and bruised.  I could not see or speak, only rely on sounds for some guidance as to what was going on. 

I heard Wayne’s footsteps as he felt his way to the door, followed by the sound of it opening.  It was equally dark outside, and things seemed to pause at that moment, as though the world was holding its breath.  Then came a thump and a cry of anguish, followed by more cries and a torrent of swearing.  Moments later the lights came on.  Mary was standing there, a baseball bat in her hand while Wayne lay on the concrete floor clutching his ankle.  I could see a mobile phone clipped to her belt and the handsfree plug in her ear.

There followed a pattering of feet and Shawnee appeared, still wearing the rubber catsuit but now with her hands and head bare.  Together the pair subdued Wayne, binding his wrists and ankles with plastic ties, while he moaned and cried that his ankle was broken.

“Good,” said Mary dispassionately.  “I’ll break your dick and your head next.”

She strolled into the room, looking damnably elegant like she owned the place.  Regal, almost.

“So who’s been a bad girl, then?” she asked, smiling down at me.  I gurgled and mmphed into my gag, saliva running down my cheek and neck and mingling with the tears.  “Not looking after the clients?  Leaving slaves unattended?  Tsk tsk…” Gently she withdrew the flogger from where it still protruded from my pussy.

“Urrrgnnn…” I whined.

“Sorry, sweetie,” she said, and for a moment I thought she was going to leave me there, but she simply moved away to undo the rope attached to my belt.  She let me down gently and helped me into a sitting position on the edge of the bench before undoing the strap behind my head and removing the gag.  I couldn’t say anything – I was too overcome.  I simply cried as she held me against her breast.

“Sssh, it’s all over now.  Everything’s okay.”  Then she said over my shoulder: “Shawnee, take that noisy object and throw it in the holding cell.  And silence it before you do so.  Oh, and there should be a set of handcuff keys in the pockets, and get me a knife, too…” Moments later I heard the sound of Wayne’s cursing drop to a series of muted burblings as something was stuffed in or over her mouth.  The tone of the nasal rantings shot up to a soprano level as Shawnee evidently dragged his form down the corridor.

“That’s right, Shawnee, pull him by the feet,” Mary whispered softly to nobody in particular. 

Mary hugged me until my sobs finally subsided, then she held me at arm’s length, noting the awful crop marks and bruises over my body.  Shawnee appeared with keys to the handcuffs and a knife.  After freeing my wrists, she cut the plastic ties still binding my ankles.

“Jesus…  How did you stand this?”  Mary asked at the sight of my tenderised flesh. 

I put my finger to my lips and motioned Shawnee to hand me my white leather coat from the peg on the wall.  I put it on gingerly, helped by Mary, whom I had never seen so caring.  My shoulders hurt abominably and my legs were shaking.  My thighs and breasts and tummy were on fire where the whip had caught me, the flesh laced with livid weals.  I did up a couple of buttons but that was all I could manage. 

“I think you can let Lisa down now,” I told Mary in as strong a voice as I could muster.  Mary lowered Lisa’s still-sheathed arms to the accompaniment of a groan from the blindfolded and gagged figure as she straightened up.  At my gesture, Mary slowly released the pressure on the clothes pegs on Lisa’s nipples.  Thank God I hadn’t put anything more severe on them, I thought, for I had no idea how many hours we had endured the torture.  Lisa groaned again as the blood returned, while Mary undid the head harness and removed the gag then the blindfold.  Lisa was drenched in sweat and stood blinking in the light.  The arm binder still pulled her shoulders back and forced her breasts forward.  She looked quite adorable.

“Wow!” said Lisa.  “That was quite some act, Mistress.  I thought you were going to leave me there all day.  And that man… He was so real!  You guys are incredible.”

“Thank you Lisa,” I said tiredly but managing to smile as best I could.  “Shawnee, undo Lisa’s binder and ankles.”

We watched as Shawnee’s lithe rubber form busied itself undoing the laces of the arm sheath.

“Oh! Oh – that is sooo good!” Lisa exclaimed as her arms came free.  “That was all amazing.”

“Shawnee, take Lisa to the sauna room and do whatever she asks of you.  Make sure she is thoroughly pampered and cleaned and looked after.  Mary and I will be upstairs on the verandah when you’ve finished.  Take your time, Lisa dear.”  I kissed her gently on the lips and followed Mary out of the room.

*   *   *

Mary took me upstairs to one of the guest rooms, ran a hot bath for me and opened a bottle of wine.  As I soaked, she sat on a stool and flipped open her mobile phone. 

“Who are you ringing?”


“Monica?  Why?” I asked.

“I phoned her before, when I found Shawnee still chained up and carrying on like a demented mute.  When I’d taken her gag out, she told me about some guy who’d attacked you.  She described him and I could only think of our late client Mr Wayne Bennelli.  I phoned Monica before I went in, just in case anything happened.”

“What did you tell her?  She must be going bananas!”

“Yeah, I guess so.  I didn’t tell her much.  I just wanted a backup in case things went wrong.  I turned my mobile off at that point for a while, so she couldn’t phone me back.  I said I’d call her in a few hours when it was all over.  If she didn’t hear from me within four hours she had better start on Plan B.”

“Which is?”

“Absolutely no idea.”  Mary grinned wryly.

“Hello?  Monica?  Yeah, it’s me.  Yeah, we’re all fine.  Relax.  Well, Trish is okay – a bit sore but okay.  Tell you all the details later. Shawnee’s fine, and Lisa reckons it was the best role play we’ve ever done…  No, really.  Him? Oh he’s down in the holding cells nursing a possible broken ankle.  At least he would be nursing it if he could reach it, but he can’t. “ She chuckled, looking a picture of composure, crossing her black-booted legs with a shimmer of nylon.  “We’ll find a place for him until you come home.”  She frowned.  “No, of course it won’t be under the back lawn.  Far too obvious. 

“How are you guys going?  What!”  She covered the mouthpiece.  “They’ve found Leila!” she told me, her eyes wide with excitement.  “Is she okay?   Oh, that’s wonderful!  What about Jill?  Where?  Where the fuck is Macau?  Oh.  Well at least you have something to go on, then… Okay – I’d better go.  Give our love to Leila – and Emma and Steven.  Don’t worry about us.  We can take care of ourselves.  We’re tough bitches – you know that! Bye.”

I stared at Mary.  Tears were running down her cheeks.  I felt my own eyes go watery, just so thankful that at least Leila was safe and that Jill was not yet lost to the world…

“Tough bitches…” I echoed, then sniffled.  “Yup, that’s us… Cheers…”

*   *   *

Mary had rubbed ointment into my weals after the bath.  It was a soft side of her that I had never seen before, and I’m not sure who was more embarrassed.  Mary tried to be brusque but it just didn’t work on this particular day.  We were both so relieved over Leila, and the wine also helped lower the normal guards we humans keep in place.

We went outside to get into a second bottle of Cab Sav as the afternoon drew to a close. 

“So how did you manage the light thing?” I asked.  “It was like a coal mine populated with negroes down there.  How the hell could you see what you were doing?”

“Listen and learn,” said Mary smugly.  “You know the infra red cameras we have in the basement rooms?”


“You know also that the fuse box is outside the door under the stairs?”


“You know I have a mobile phone?”


“Simple, really.  Shawnee dialled up my mobile from Monica’s office, so I could hear her in my earpiece.  I went downstairs and waited outside the Rack Room while she shut down the lighting circuit.  Then she went to Monica’s office and watched the cctv on the infrared camera located in the Rack Room. She saw when the twat reached the door, when he opened it, and where I was relative to him.  You’ve heard of laser-guided bombs?  Well this was a slave-guided baseball bat.”


“Then she turned the lights on, and the rest of course is history.”

“I think that bastard should also be part of history.”

“Yes,” agreed Mary.  “We should start planning…” 


Monica's Quest continues in Chapter Nine
All comments welcome at
© R.Alexander 2006

Also by the same author:
§ Monica’s Place
§ Monica’s Quest
§ Monica’s Revenge
§ Monica’s Games
§ Monica’s Travels
§ Monica and the Black Fortress

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