To understand the Gai Shift & to review the characters in this story, check out this useful guide: Gai-Shift Encyclopedia of Knowledge
Chapter 4: The New Manni
Barbette awoke in her own bed. She lay silently, looking up at the plasterwork of the ceiling, allowing memories of all that had happened the prior night to come back to her. Strapped up, the unseen Baroness Manchester pumping her through the wall with her pneumonic nightmare, an endless flush of passion. How many times had its cleverly-shaped rubber head pushed into her, pressing up, withering and pulsing like a thing alive? She and the baroness would share their separate orgasms, she hanging from her tight straps, the baroness sprawled on the thick carpets of her elegant suite. Both would slowly recover and then it would begin again. The pounding bliss, the endless abuse, climax following climax.
She did not remember being returned to her room, but here she was, so it must have been so.
She rolled her head on her pillow, looking out her small window at the late morning sun. "I am becoming a manni," she thought. "Up all night and then permitted to sleep in." Her thin yet sensuous lips parted ruefully at the thought.
Finally she could lull no more; inactivity was not in her nature. She rolled naked out of bed, groaning at the aches and pains. Stiffly, she slipped her lanky body into the small corner shower, luxuriating as the stale sweat was washed away. After shampooing her wild black hair, she stepped out and dried herself, wincing at each new ache. She was a hard woman, not prone to bruising, but her tall mirror revealed horizontal marks across her back, the signs of the belting which had held her so tight. "I am a zebra," she thought. "Well, it should heal."
After drying her hair, she sat before the small vanity, applying cream to another tender spot. The baroness's enthusiasm had been... intense. It would be best for her to be chaste for the next few days.
She then donned her traditional black maid's uniform with its white apron and bonnet. Slipping her long sensuous feet into her high pumps, she left the room.
The servant's common room was empty at this hour, all the maids at their duties. Well, empty but for a manni who'd been bound facedown to a bench, his legs drawn up beneath it, his taunt buttocks ruddy from a recent caning. From the baby bonnet still laced across his head, she knew it to be the fellow Glenda had entertained the night before. The girl enjoyed nothing better than placing a manni into ribbon-bondage, diapers and a cradle in order to dispense her hard form of motherhood. Barbette could hardly fault her; she herself enjoyed the play of feather across helpless flesh. It took all types to make a Gai-Shifted world.
She had her light breakfast and cup of coffee, sitting on the bench next to the roped manni, hand resting on his corded shoulder, an act of tenderness. She wondered if she were feeling sorry for the poor fellow, having gone through a night of torment similar to what they faced. Poor, poor manni.
Jillian came in, her moderate brown hair rumpled, dark rims under her green eyes. She, too, had faced a long night, hers for having caused the premature discharge of the manni now bound to the bench at Barbette's side. She smiled a greeting at her superior, seemingly oblivious to the manni. Some of the young girls were like that, viewing mannis as mere toys or diversions, nothing more.
"Good morning, Jillian. Ow are you feeling zes fine day?"
"Good, thank you, Ma'am. A little stiff." Barbette nodded in complete understanding. "The girls were quite thorough with me last night. They tied me up a number of clever ways and pinched me most painfully. They forced promises from me to never to misfire a manni again, and made me seal my promise with a kiss. Well, more like a complete servicing for everyone there with my tongue, but they where really nice about it." The girl looked at Barbette with weary tenderness. "I missed you there. You said you would come. I was looking forward to making you do just that."
Barbette smiled. "You know what would 'ave 'appened to you 'ad I been zere? You know of my dooster?"
"Yes I do. But its part of the punishment. The girls all say it's not a real punishment night unless Barbette is there. They say that you have a way to make agony so very, very delightful."
"Ow nice of you. Now, as zey say, on to business. I will need you to meet me at zee room off zee parlor at zee end of our Ladyship's card game tonight. Bring two ozer girls weeth you. You do theese?"
"Of course." Jillian's eyes flashed. "You want me to bring rope?"
"Non. Have a ball gag in your pocket. A nice beeg one for a nice beeg mouth."
"Certainly," Jillian said, nearly skipping as she left. Barbette had to smile. The girl had had her fill of punishment the night before. Now she wanted to pass some out to others.
Barbette then started her rounds, checking each of the rooms for tidiness. She was very surprised at how she found Petunia. The blonde scientist, released from bondage this morning, had gotten dressed and then somehow gotten bound up again, this time to a chair. Yards and yards of ropes held her firmly in place, from her small booted heels to her swelling breasts. Before her was a table, across which sat one of the maids, a book in her hands.
"Wot is zee meening of zees," the Frenchwoman blustered. "'Er Ladysheep has suffered overnight. She ez to be released!"
"Its all right, er, Barbette, isn't it?" Petunia said, patting her blue eyes. Terry here has agreed to help me. On my orders, she bound me up nice and tight. And a wonderful job you did, my dear. I am absolutely helpless."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"No, you see, this is how I learn. Beneath my posterior, there is a shock-mat. Whenever I answer a question wrong, sweet Terry has orders to shock me."
Barbette blinked at this. Then she looked at the book in the maid's hands. Effective cards, effective strategies. Barbette could only smile. It would seem Petunia did not wish to spend another evening trussed up naked on the floor, not when there were manni-roots to be had. As she watched, Terry began reading questions from the book, her finger on a small button. Petunia listened and answered intently. Barbette watched for a while, hopeful of seeing the blonde cutie shuddered from a nice buttocks-shock but to no avail. Petunia had latched onto the subject and was learning it quickly. Like everything else she pursued, she would soon mistress it.
Barbette paused a final time in the doorway, watching Petunia's hungry pursuit of knowledge. She would not lose at cards tonight. And her appetite for knowledge was only topped by her infamous carnal one. The Frenchwoman nodded, her plan coming together. Perfect.
She glided through her day, her aches slowly falling away. By midafternoon, Petunia was evidently satisfied with her card proficiency. The chair was empty and neither maid nor guest were to be found. Barbette noticed that the ropes which had previously bound her Ladyship were missing. No doubt poor Terry was trussed up someplace, Goldwaith's plaything. They'd probably find the poor maid later tonight, in the attic or down the well or some such place.
As evening fell, she worked her way along the halls, checking everything one last time before the guests turned in for the night. Entering Petunia's chamber, she moved about dusting this and that. A steamer truck sat open in the corner and Barbette was amused to note that one side was devoted to corsets while the other held orderly racks of ropes, cuffs, and gags. Why anyone should travel with so much cordage was beyond her (most hosts these days would be more than happy to provide ropes to a guest, and even tie it in place, if asked). Then she realized that, if the steamer trunk were closed, there would be just enough room between clothing and rope for a ball-tied person. She ran her long fingers along the cold brass of the case's frame, her smile dreamy, imagining.
Likely the girl would be tricked, as no doubt Terry had been tricked, to accept 'a bit of rope'. The next thing she knew, she would be bound into a tight, quivering ball, settled in amongst the corsets and underclothing which still carried Petunia's faint scent. She could picture Petunia's merry little grin as she slowly lowered the lid into place, the light narrowing on her trussed, muffled victim. And then the lid would seal, the latches click home, the locks set, and her Ladyship would be ready to travel.
Barbette considered it. Goldwaith would be a guest for three more days. It would be prudent to headcount the staff before she left, just to make sure she wasn't accidentally carrying off a maid or manni.
Before departing, she crossed to the wall with its mounted manni-flesh. The poor fellow was at half-mast, his passions banked but ready. She pulled up the special high stool (the one that would permit comfortable use of this amenity) and leaned forward, studying the wrinkled pink extensions with flashing jet eyes. She puckered her thin lips and blew up and down his length.
The thing leapt like a startled snake, gathering, growing, arching upwards. Barbette crossed her legs, a stiletto pump wiggling on a toe, watching a sight she never tired of. The shaft hung in full erection, pulsing, trapped, like an animal watchful of danger. She could easily imagine the strapped, helpless manni in the hall beyond the wall, stirred to sexual attention against his will by her gossamer teasing, his nerves tingling, wondering what would happen next.
Very carefully, she brought up her duster and stroked it up and down, watching in delight as the tip of each feather played over each ridge and contour. The penis arched upwards, swelling, reddening, so very excited. Laughing low in amusement, she swirled the duster this way and that, playing the game, seeing how close she could come to setting this manni off without actually doing it.
"Is this the night you will go too far," she thought to herself, eyes flashing. "Is this the night the other girls will pour into this room, finding you standing here, hands dripping with sticky manni essence? Is this the night they will strip you, bind you up, and carry you out to the barn?"
How the others would love to torment her as she had tormented them for their mistakes. Jillian, Glenda, Terry, all the others, they would line up with their dildos and clips and tiny little whips, punishing her over and over until the sun came up. No doubt her infamous feather duster would end up eased into her anus, leaving her looking like a trussed little turkey-bird with its big brown tail. How amusing it would be. She found herself quite tempted. All it would take would be a few flicks of her fingers and she would be borne off to this fate.
With a sad smiled, she reached out and squeezed the manni's rod, checking his building progress, slowing him down. When he'd dropped to a more maintainable level of erection, she released him, bestowing a sweet little kiss to his tip before slipping from the stool. From behind the wall came a lingering moan of frustration. Maybe some other night.
She went to the door of the room, looking up and down the hall. Two girls lit the gaslights.
"When you are done zere," she called out to them, "remove ze manni from zis room. You may entertain yourselves with him tonight."
"Thank you, Ma'am! Oh, thank you," they chorused, happy to be given this treat. Barbette nodded, checking the wall clock. The game should be breaking up now. Time to put the rest of her plan into motion.
She slipped through the door into the parlor. At the various tables, Lady M___, Lady Goldwaith, Baroness Manchester, and other brightly-plumaged women of society played through their final hands. In the shadows, three maids lingered, supposedly to fetch wine or a new deck of cards, but really for the transportation of the night's loser to her enforced chastity. Barbette slipped to the wall herself, watching as the games broke up. A woman tallied the points.
"I Must Say, My Dear Child, That You Provided Excellent Service Last Evening," Lady M___ declared as she cruised under full sail over to where Barbette stood. "The Baroness Was Most Complementary Of Your Efforts."
"Zank you," Barbette replied with a curtsy. When she rose, Baroness Manchester had joined them, a hard little smile dancing across her face.
"Indeed she did, Lady M___. It was quite enjoyable to show her the inherent advantages possessed by mannis." Imperial eyes fell on Barbette. "I trust you found the instruction to your benefit?"
"Oui, Mademoiselle. 'Owever, I do not zeek it you found it a fully authentic representation yourself, no?"
"What do you mean, girl? My device is anatomically correct in every way. And with the feedback pads, I gain the same intensity of pleasure any manni would."
"Zere was zomething missing. Eet was not a true manni experience."
"I have not left anything out," Manchester said, her cheeks flushing at the maid's near-impertinence. "What could I have possible overlooked?"
"Well," Barbette said, then glanced at the other women, the model of discretion. Already a loser had been declared and Petunia was beaming that it was not she. Everyone had a warm laugh as Madam Turely was hand-gagged and bound by the leering maids. Speaking low, Barbette noted, "I cannot speak of 'eet here een publeek."
"Let Us Retire To The Side Room Where You Can Answer The Baroness In Private," Lady M___ decided, exactly as Barbette hoped she would. Nodding subserviently, Barbette led the two women through the discrete door.
"Now, you silly little Frenchy, tell me what was missing from my manni experience," Manchester demanded.
"Take 'er," Barbette ordered. Instantly the drapes were flung aside and Jillian and her two associates locked hands on the baroness. Before the noblewoman could utter a word, a thick ball gag was popped into her mouth, silencing her. Lady M___ watched in shock at this rude display.
"What... What Is The Meaning Of This, Child?"
"Strip 'er down," ordered Barbette. The maids eagerly complied, pulling away the blouse and skirt of the blushing, ball gagged Manchester. While keeping her eye on the delightful show, Barbette answered her Ladyship's direct question, as well as Manchester's earlier one.
"You zee, ze baroness only zot she knew what eet was like to be a manni, what with all 'er bumping and thrusting. But she wishes zee full experience, one which I am only too happy to give 'er. She weel be tied, tormented, and used, jos like a reel manni."
Manchester could not say a word. Her eyes flamed over a ball gag that filled her mouth like an apple yet her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. With her arms pinned at her sides, she could not defend herself from the hands that stripped away every stitch of clothing. All that was left was the sinister device between her legs, flaccid and unpressurized. Cunning little straps looped beneath her strong buttocks and around her narrow waist, insuring that it would not dislodge.
Hanging from the unit was a small cable with a tiny control box on the end. It had been in her pocket but had fallen out during the forced disrobing. Barbette recovered it, tucking it safely out of the way beneath a hip strap.
"Of course, a true manni would be quite excited by sooch rude 'andling." Barbette beamed. She touched the green button on the unit. Instantly came the hiss of pumps, erecting the odd device. She shut it off at one-third its total potential. Jillian, her eyes flashing as she realized the game, slipped a hand beneath the black rubber, stroking upwards on one slow movement. The pressures were transferred to the plug within the baroness' vagina, pushing quite realistically against her most sensitive spots. Her eyes shuttered and she moaned, her nipples swelling. Jillian giggled in delight.
"I See," Lady M___ stated, her chin up, a ghost of a smile dancing across her thin lips. "Quite So. Well, Carry On, Girls. Assist The Baroness With Her Studies." As she left, Barbette instructed the girls to take hold of the noblewomen. An instant later, the flustered and naked women was trapped in the coils of the maid's arms, held horizontally off the floor, grunting into her gag.
"We 'ave plan's for our little manni, do we not," Barbette chuckled, looking down at the woman who struggled in her arms. They slipped out into the hall, leaving nothing behind but a pile of fine clothing.
Barbette reflected how much she enjoyed carrying a naked woman to a sexual fate. There was something primeval in the feel of struggling heated flesh pinned within her arms. A tribal affinity blossomed between the captors; they might be carrying a victim to sacrifice or meat to the pot. And in their arms, Baroness Manchester could only endure the hot encompassing arms, the occasional pinches, and the low, speculative murmurs.
Most disturbing was how that one girl, Jillian, kept touching her penis-unit. The sensation was excruciating.
The baroness' eyes flashed open as she was carried through a hidden doorway, into the narrow passageways between the estates' rooms.
Mannis watched with wide-eyes amazement at the sight of the four maids bearing this she/manni into their midst. They craned their heads around, goggling at the mouth-watering sight. All too soon, the shapely baroness, her blessings revealed, her strange device gripped by Jillian, and her eyes rolling in a near-crazed state, vanished from view. They were left to ponder the visage, their own erections throbbing as they thought about what they'd seen. Many women came to their rooms that night to find hard rods waiting their tender touches and silky sexual maws.
Eventually, the baroness was placed onto a box and shoved against a wall, pinned by her captives. She screwed her eyes shut as Jillian fed her artificial limb through the access hole. Then came the belts, pulled fast by the giggling girls. Arms and legs were all buckled fast against the wall, leaving her in a vertical state of helplessness. Girlish fingers even pinned her toes; a moment later, they were strapped together and pulled floorward, nice and snug. She could hardly move a muscle.
"Non, non, my girls," came Barbette's husky voice. "You cannot show favoritism to this manni, simply because 'he' is a baroness. Ze straps must be tight. Tight!"
A stiletto pump braced against her back as strong fingers pulled each of her many straps one notch tighter. Now she could hardly breath, so tight where the bonds that crushed her. She moaned, desperate for pity.
Barbette enjoyed the effort. She loved to watch the soft womanly hands milling so helplessly as each belt surrendered another notch. And the baroness's buttocks, so delightfully pronounced, became even more so as she hauled on the belts topping the woman's thighs. She hummed a happy little tune as she worked her way down the noblewoman's long legs, compressing legs, knees, and calves into cruel bundles of quivering flesh. She even took a moment to pull the toe-strap a notch in, an action which took away the baroness's last inch of freedom. She looked fondly at the pinioned feet, wishing she could indulge herself but knowing it was not the time. Her work done, she stood, patting her captive on her trembling shoulder.
"By now, my leetle manni, you must be quiet the excited little boy. Let us make eet so." Manchester shuddered as the button was pressed, expanding her penis to its maximum setting. The pressure of this fed back through its horn, a constant stimulation. She couldn't stand this, not one minute more. She whined through the gag, pleading that she be released. A tear trickled down her cheek. She did not wish to be a manni any longer.
"Jillian," came Barbette's voice from somewhere behind her. "I believe the baroness was scheduled to stay for three more nights. Alert the stable mistress to have a stall made ready. She has a new manni to care for!"
Manchester groaned. They couldn't be serious. She was to be a manni for days? She wouldn't survive the nonstop manipulation, the hard bondage, the groping hands, the hungry eyes. She was a sheep amongst wolves. Her single tear became a racking series of sobs.
Slender hands slipped around her head, stroking her wet cheeks. She sensed Barbette pressed up behind her, the shapely body warm against her captivity. Breath tickled her ear. "Do not worry, my leetle lad. I have arranged for a suitable playmate for you zees evening. I believe you know her? Lady Petunia Goldwaith? I believe she is, ow you zay, quite ze horny one?"
Manchester's wet eyes flashed open. Not Goldwaith! The woman was a bottomless pit of sexual hunger. She'd go at Manchester's timeless erection for hours. Manchester's compressed ribs shuddered from her sobs but Barbette seemed not to notice, kissing the sexual captive on her ear before slipping away.
And then the ex-baroness froze. From the other side of the wall, strong knowing fingers began stroking her protrusion. She gasped at the tender torment that jolted through her at the touch. In the other room, Petunia was beaming with delight at this unexpected treat.
"Do not worry," came Barbette's voice from the darkness. "I shall be back in an hour. And I weel be bringing my feather dooster."
An image of what this meant flashed into the captive's brain, an image that was dead on. Her soles and ribs were open to the most casual tickling. With wigging feathers on one side of her and Petunia doing gymnastics on the other, she was doomed.
It would be a death she would always remember.
The End
08.08.09