Leather & Lace

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Leather & Lace
Chapter 3 – The Wager: Part I
By the White Knight

When I sat down at my desk on Friday morning, I found two notes.  One was from Mr. Harrison, telling me to set up a meeting with the head of the copy department for 10:00am on Monday, as his schedule was too cramped to fit it in today.  He added that he would like to review my version of the instructional documentation first thing Monday morning.  The second note was from Mr. Thatcher asking me to see him as soon as I arrived. 

Using a compact mirror I checked my face and hair.  Smoothing my skirt as I stood I walked to his office and knocked on the open door.  He smiled as he looked up from some pictures he was reviewing. 

“Good morning, my dear”, he said warmly.  “Please take a seat.” He gestured to a chair in front of his desk.  I sat down and returned his greeting.  He asked me how I was getting along now that my first week was nearly up. I responded truthfully that I was enjoying working for Leather & Lace very much.  Mr. Thatcher was pleased to hear that and went on to tell me that all of the partners were extremely pleased with my work in general and especially the way that I really put all of myself into my assignments. 

Then he launched into an explanation of a new project that he would like me to work on.  It seems that the company was going to add a new line of ‘bondage kits’.  Not like the nylon restraints that I had, but kits that would form a set of stocks, a suspension frame. a padded saw horse, something called a St. Greg’s cross and more.  He empathized that as much as possible of the construction would be handled by our sub-contractor to make the assembly as easy as possible for our customers.  He went on to tell me that the company received thousands of requests per year asking if we knew where they could get wooden constructs such as these.  If there were thousands making this request, there were probably multiple thousands interested, he reasoned. 

All of the kits would require sets of restraints to be included with them.  Therefore we as a company we are going to need more leather straps, cuffs, collars and belts in a whole variety of sizes, shapes and colors.  My role was to help put together a computerized slide presentation that would be used to convince our leather working sub-contractor to reduce or at the very least hold their current prices, due to the increased volume.  This was very important to the company, because there had been rumors that prices on leather goods were going to go up a minimum of ten per cent this year. 

As he finished his little speech, he came around from behind his desk and rested his hand on my shoulder.  If anyone else had done that I would have read them the riot act, but from him you could tell it was not a sexual move, just something to bring two people closer.  He looked deep into my eyes and said, “We are going to need your all on this project.  In the past we have always depended on your predecessor, Kay, to handle these assignments.  She isn’t here and you are, so we really need your help to make this work.”  Meeting his strong concerned gaze, I told him not to worry and that I was sure that I could handle the job.  Fantastic he responded, and then as he escorted me to the door, he informed me that someone from the advertising group would be E-mailing me the pictures to be used in the presentation. 

The rest of the day went by uneventfully.  I began the project by taking the provided computerized pictures and placing them into a Power Point slide show.  It was slow going to make the pictures look exactly correct and they need to be shuffled and re-shuffled to keep up with the ever-changing sales pitch.  It was fun in a way because Mr. Thatcher worked with me closely.  Looking over my shoulder at the screen to make suggestions and requests.  He always had a warm smile and a word of praise to reward my efforts. 

Quitting time came and I hurried home.  I maintained my normal schedule aerobics, shower and a light supper.  I knew that I didn’t have a lot of time for fun and games tonight because I had agreed to go out with one of my few remaining girl friends, Marcy, to a nearby nightclub.  I say few remaining, because many of my friends had been mutual friends of my previous boyfriend, so my list of friends had dwindled dramatically. 

Our night out was basically a bust.  We were both dressed in moderately sexy mini dresses, so we had quite a few males interested in us.  Unfortunately, they basically feel into two categories; the preppies that were so impressed with themselves and felt that you should be also and the wolves that did everything but drool as the pictured you naked. 

We left shortly after mid-night.  I invited Marcy in for a drink and we sat in the living room, sharing are standard lament, ‘where have all the good men gone’.  Sipping white wine we talked about what would make the perfect man.  As I spoke more and more I found myself using Mr. Thatcher as my role model.  He was taken, of course, but somehow I needed to find myself a younger version of the same mold. 

I went to bed a little worse for drink.  Feeling sorry for myself, Ann had her Michael, where was my partner I asked the universe?  I am in no way a holy roller, but I do believe in God, so my last thought for the night was a prayer to him to help me find my perfect mate. 

I didn’t get out of bed until noon the next day.  Then I forced myself to do all of those little chores, which had piled up during the week.  Dry cleaning, laundry, food shopping and house hold cleaning. This done I decided that I had one thing that I had to do for work before beginning anything else, for my own pleasure.  Of course the job I had in mind to do, could of course be viewed as pleasure, but that just made my work all the more enjoyable.  My assignment was to come up with a better way to put on that Multi Pack Stimulator.  The way I had done it on Thursday worked, but the difficulty I had encountered could be viewed as a real turn off to the customer.  So at four-thirty in the afternoon I stripped naked in my bedroom and calmly surveyed the pieces of equipment that I had laid out on the bed. 

Inserting both of the dildos into myself and then trying to put the laces in had been a bust as far as I was concerned, there just had to be a better way.  I picked up the butt plug and looked at it.  This had to go in first, that I knew.  But, what if the laces were already secured into the base of the dildos before I started I thought.  Then I would just have to insert the two of them and buckle the straps to finish the process.  I threaded the thin cords through both dildo’s but each time I tried put in the butt plug in I would always drop the vibrator which would slide off the straps.  After multiple variations I finally got it right. 

First, I buckled the thick belt about my waist and  then I reached between my legs and grabbed the dangling cords.  Holding the butt plug in front of me, I threaded the thin straps into its and pushed it into my anal passageway, using the end of the dresser impalement method.  Grabbing the dangling cords once more I inserted them through the base of the vibrator and then pushed it home.  Needless to say I had already greased the way for my rubber friends.  Finally I buckled them tightly into place.  Perfection, I sighed in happiness at my achievement. 

They felt good in my nether regions, so I decided to keep them in as I wrote up the instructions on how to use them.  It seemed apropos to me.  I walked gingerly into the living room, not wanting to walk too quickly or take strides that were to long, because of what the movement caused my buried buddies to do to me.  An interesting feeling to say the least, but I baby stepped my way into the room and sat down on the floor before the coffee table.  I loved to sit on the floor there and write at the small table.  Today I had to sit sort of sideways, on only one cheek, but I still loved the experience.  The thick shag rug felt soft and yummy against my bare skin and tickled me in places that it normally wouldn’t be able to touch.  Within an hour I had things pretty much the way I wanted them.  All I had to do was type it up on Monday morning and give it the Mr. Harrison as soon as I was done. 

The little bit of walking that I had to do with the dildos strapped into me had interested me very much.  Subtle changes in my walk, especially putting a little more swing into my hips, sent them into the most exciting of motions.  So I decided to try a real bump and grind walk while wearing them.  The best way to do this is to put one foot in front of the other and shifting the hips in sync with your feet.  Doing this in bare feet was OK, but a true bump and grind needed high heels.  I put on my party shoes and pranced around the house, each bump and each grind sending tingles through my body.  I found myself cupping my breasts in my hands and squeezing the tips of my nipples.  Without much warning I felt an orgasm nearing.  I quickly lay down on the plush shag carpet  and turned on the vibrator.  Using my fingers I helped myself achieve climax in a matter of seconds.  When my orgasm ended I quickly switched off the vibrator and just lay back to enjoy the feeling. 

The remainder of the weekend went by quietly.  I played with my toys from time to time and experimented with different ways to use my cuffs.   Sunday night I rewarded myself for working on Saturday, by sleeping bound to the bed. 

Monday, was total chaos.  I barely had time to type up my instructions and put them in Mr. Harrison’s mail, before everything got crazy. Lucinda and Mr. Thatcher had together asked me if I would be willing to work late this week to complete the presentation.  I agreed, knowing that I would get paid overtime past five.   To show how happy they were, they decided to throw in a bonus.  They were going to increase my product room allowance from the standard $200 dollars, up to salesmen level of $500.  I smiled and thanked them.  No, it wasn’t money in my pocket, but it showed me that they cared about my contributions.  The whole office seemed focused on this presentation.  We worked non-stop from nine until eight that night. 

Just before lunch Mr. Harrison came over and thanked me for a ‘great job’ on the instructions.  He also told me that the Copy Department director was very impressed with my work also, and when my current job finished he might be able to find a place for me.  I beamed from ear-to-ear and thanked Mr. Harrison for the opportunity.  He told me that I had earned it, and to think nothing of it. 

Everyday that week went like this.  Up even earlier than normal.  Get to the office by eight in the morning and leave at about eight at night.  Go home do my aerobics, shower and eat.  Then I would read a book, or if I had any energy left over, thumb through the company catalog.  I basically decided that I wanted to over haul my lingerie collection and I was trying to decide what to get.  I often fell asleep dreaming of the soft sexy creations. 

One day as I ate lunch at my desk, Lucinda spotted me looking through the catalog.  She came over and asked me, ‘Have you decided what you want to purchase yet?’  Closing the catalog I told her that I hadn’t.  I told her my basic idea as my eyes wandered back down to Ann’s shapely body on the catalog.  ‘Why don’t you get one of those?’, she asked.  It took me a few seconds to understand that she was talking about the corset.  ‘Oh no, I couldn’t....’, I began demurely.  ‘Of course you can’, Lucinda responded as she took my hand.  She led and I felt compelled to follow. 

She took me directly to the women in charge of fashion, Andrea was her name, and said that I was interested in a corset.  I blushed when Andrea looked me over.  She called over an older woman who began to take my measurements.  I thought they would just need the standard three, but she took more like ten.  Marking them down on a chart by her side. 

Andrea looked to me and asked, “What do you want the corset to look like”.  I gave a lost shrug and told her I had no idea.   Lucinda spoke up for me, ‘I think she should start with a satin model, leather can come later.  She strikes me as the slightly modest type so go with the half-cup.  Give her a four-inch pull with double lacing.  Six garters not four.’  Andrea’s assistant wrote this all down quickly.  Lucinda pointed to one of the corset encased mannequin torso’s, “That’s basically what I’m describing, go take a look.  I really think that you will love it, my dear’. 

I walked over to the mannequin and looked the corset over.  I touched the soft sensuous satin, marveling at the feel.  As my fingers traveled around it I felt the firm ribbing.  I stopped there and traveled the ribbing with my fingers.  From behind me Andrea pointed out that all of the ribbing was stainless steel now and was much better then whale bone.  I asked for and was given a measuring tape with which I measured the waist, twenty inches, pretty tight I thought.  Lucinda saw what I was doing and said, “Your customized corset will actually have an eighteen inch waist.”  I looked at her stunned.  “You have a twenty-two inch waist and I am requesting a four inch pull, that leaves eighteen inches.”  I was having a hard time imagining wearing something that was going to squeeze my middle that small when Andrea chimed in.  “That’s the smallest pull we offer, young lady.  Some people opt for more pull, but I think that a ‘four pull’, for short, would be best to start with.’ 

I nodded my head not knowing what to say.  “Now what color, would you like your corset to be”, asked Andrea.  I looked back at the model on the mannequin and replied, ‘Exactly like that’.  Bright red , with black side panels, lace and trim.  It was beautiful and I couldn’t wait to try it on. Lucinda spoke to Andrea quietly.  I was told that they would start work on it immediately, and that I would have to come in for three fittings.  It would be ready in two to three weeks. 

Leaving I wondered if I had used up my entire bonus on that one item.  I knew from the catalog that custom corsets started at $350 and went up from there.  I mentioned this to Lucinda and she said that she had already asked the same questions of Andrea, who had assured her that the garment would come in under $250.  My mouth dropped open.  Lucinda smiled at me and reminded me that I was paying cost for all items I purchased.  ‘How much would it have cost without my discount?’, I asked.  ‘Oh, somewhere around $500 or $550’, she answered off handily.  ‘By the way my dear’, Lucinda continued.  ‘You just purchased the entire corset set, that includes two sets of seamed hose, a pair of satin elbow length gloves and a pair of shoes.  Boots are extra, but don’t worry, I am sure that we can find you something interesting in our shoe selection. 

Going back to work was difficult at first, because all I could think of was the red satin corset.  The amount of assignments that faced me soon brought my mind back to the business at hand.  I went in for two of my three fittings during the week, which made me love my personalized creation all the more.  I felt like a kid waiting for Christmas to arrive. 

Towards the end of the week I was called upon, to look up some information concerning the last presentation that the company had made to a sub-contractor Arch Leather Goods, Co.  I found the appropriate file and began to review it.  What I found were dinner menus, food and liquor shopping lists and the address of a house in Vermont.  After awhile I was able to piece together that last meetings were held at the client’s offices, during the day but were continued into the evening at Mr. Thatcher’s vacation home, which was obviously nearby.  From the shopping lists which were written in neat script, that I recognized as my predecessor’s hand, she had been there orchestrating everything.  Catering, shopping, meetings, changes to contracts, anything and everything that needed to be done.  I wondered who was handling all of this, for this trip. 

I walked into Mr. Thatcher’s office to give him the information that he had requested.  He thanked me and I turned to leave.  Curiosity kills the cat they say, I couldn’t help but ask who was handling all of the functions that my predecessor had handled on the previous trip.  He stood up and replied easily, ‘Actually Lucinda has agreed to take care of all of that.’  My mouth must have dropped open, ‘But, she’s the director of marketing.  Isn’t that going to lower her credibility to the client when she has to make her part of the pitch.’  He shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘We’re short handed and this is very important to the company and she’s the low-man on the totem pole.  So my dear, unless you are volunteering, Lucinda has to do it.’  That stopped me in my tracks.  Then the thought occurred to me why shouldn’t I.  This place was going to be a morgue while the partners were away and this couldn’t hurt towards getting me a full time position.  Besides it just didn’t seem right to me to have Lucinda do that kind of work.  She was one of the companies leaders, not a worker bee like me. 

‘Yes’, I said, more to myself than to Mr. Thatcher.  ‘Yes, I am volunteering to handle the managing of your trip and any other details that arise.’  This time he was speechless.  When he regained his composure, he gave me a warm smile and shook my hand, ‘Welcome on board, my dear’.  He then told me that he would talk to Lucinda and that he was sure she would be by soon to hand over the trip itinerary. 

I had barely gotten back to my desk and have a few seconds to reflect on what I had just done, when Lucinda ran around my desk and hugged me.  ‘Your an absolute gem, my dear’, she began almost in tears.  ‘Michael told me what you’ve done and what you said about me... you’re simply wonderful.’  With a final squeeze she regained her composure quickly and set out on briefing me as to my new additional responsibilities.  I would have to travel up there on Saturday to make sure that the caterer and everything was in order.  Mr. Thatcher, would be arriving Monday evening with Mr. Stanton, the president of Arch Leather Works.  He would be there for two days, then she would be in for the next two days.  If all went well with there meetings than Mr. Harrison would follow on Friday for the wrap up meetings.  She hugged me again and left. 

Friday came quickly and I packed, for my business trip.  Not knowing entirely what was expected of me I packed a wide variety of outfits including two evening gowns.  I figured what the heck, at the very worst they will just sit in the trunk of the car. 

Saturday was awhirl of activity.  The long car ride was followed by shopping and meeting with the caterer.  Then taking the time to figure out where everything could be found in an unfamiliar house and where to put away all of the supplies.  The house itself was large and needed time to familiarize myself with.  There were four bedrooms upstairs and one more downstairs.  I had been assigned the downstairs bedroom.  It had a beautiful full sized bed with posts at each corner that were easily six feet tall.  The bed had a warm quilt comforter and I was asleep shortly after my head hit the pillow. 

Sunday saw me supervising a cleaning crew, during the morning.  They had already been there during the week, but I was to inspect everything and have them correct anything that needed fixing.  That afternoon, feeling that I had everything as under control as it was going to get, I set out to relax.  They had set up a beautiful recreation room as an extension to the house.  It was wood paneled with high ceilings and warming skylights.  I sat down on a comfortable couch and sipped my diet ice tea.  I must have drifted off when I was awakened by someone calling my name. 

Still fuzzy from my nap, I replied, ‘Yes.  I’m in here.’  Dusky light was filtering in from the overhead skylight, so I guessed that it must be late afternoon.  A light snapped on and as I blinked my eyes to adjust, I heard Mr. Thatcher say, ‘There you are Sharon.’  I stood up quickly and said, ‘I didn’t expect you until tomorrow night.’  He looked concerned at my discomfort and replied, ‘I really am sorry about that, my dear, but my friend Arch here decided he like to have a little pow wow, prior to the morning meetings.  I would have called but the darn batteries in my cellular ran out of juice on my way up here.  I hope this doesn’t cause you any problems.’  At about this point I started to worry about what I must look like, waking up from a nap and wearing casual clothing.  ‘No of course not, Sir’, I responded.  ‘It’s just that I don’t have anything for you to eat for the evening and well... I must look a fright.  I’d like a few minutes to go and change.’ 

‘First off, you look lovely as always, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher said with a warm smile.  ‘And second,....’  He pointed to Mr. Stanton, who had come a little further into the room.  He held up a brown paper bag and said, ‘I’ve got enough dinner for everyone.  Chinese, a little shrimp, some beef and mess of vegetables.’  Despite his slightly gravely voice Mr. Stanton had an easygoing manner that made me like him right off the bat.  Still a little unsure about my outfit, I smoothed my sweater skirt a bit and then walked forward on slipper-clad feet, to relieve Mr. Stanton of his burden. 

I used the microwave to warm up the food and placed it about the dining room table.  The men came in at my call.  Dinner went smoothly with the normal polite chitchat. Afterwards they settled in at the recreation room wet bar, as I cleared the table.  Placing the remaining food in the refrigerator, I gathered up some snacks for them to have with their drinks. 

Re-entering the room, I placed the bowls of nuts, pretzels and trail mix on the bar.  “You must have been reading my mind, Sharon,’ Mr. Thatcher beamed.  As he spoke he put an elegant glass of wine in front of me.  ‘Thank you, for everything, but now just relax.’ He nodded to Mr. Stanton.  ‘This rascal and I are just discussing the actual value of his products, to our newest endeavor.  I keep telling him that rope is every bit as good as leather restraints and he just refuses to see my point.’  Mr. Stanton laughed heartily, ‘What your boss refuses to accept, young lady, is that leather cuffs are much more convenient and comfortable than rope.’ 

I sipped my wine as the argument flowed around me.  They had quickly gone beyond Mr. Thatcher’s weak ploy in saying that rope could replace leather restraints, on our new line of products.  Now, they were into an intense discussion as to which medium was more comfortable.  Mr. Thatcher claimed that he could bind a woman securely, yet comfortably for an extended period of time using his special ‘pre-washed’ rope.  He further went onto say that his work would definitely be a damn site more pleasant to look at then leather straps.  Mr. Stanton, chuckled at the younger man, but not unkindly.  How ‘pleasant’ it looks is a totally subjective qualification, he commented.  And though I am much more partial to the look of a fine leather cuff or strap, I don’t think that is the issue here.  Comfort is the issue, and I say that my padded cuffs have it all over your ropes. 

‘Why don’t you just try it’, I said quietly to myself.  They both turned to look at me, so I nervously added, ‘Mr. Harrison says that only someone who has tried it for themselves can really understand how to use it... or I suppose how comfortable it is.’  Mr. Stanton’s head popped up, ‘That’s an excellent idea, young lady.’  He looked at Mr. Thatcher and continued, ‘We need an independent third party to test our theories.’  Mr. Thatcher, snapped his fingers, ‘Of course that’s a perfect idea.  But, its going to take until mid-week to get one of the models up here.’  He frowned, then snapped his fingers again, ‘I’ll call Ann and get her up here.  She’ll have to get a sitter but she can probably be here by mid-night.’  Arch laughed loudly.  ‘Without meaning any disrespect to your lovely wife, I would hardly call her and independent third party.  No I think were going to have to give up on our quest and simply agree to disagree.’ 

‘What about me’, I asked in a squeaky voice.  Part of me couldn’t believe what I was doing, but the other part of me wouldn’t stop.  ‘Excuse me, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher replied quietly. I had their full attention now, so I blundered onward.  ‘I am a temporary working for this company, just give me your word that you won’t fire me if I end up disagreeing with you and I’ll be as independent as your going to get.  I’m perfect for this assignment, being new to all of this I don’t have any pre-conceived notions, and....... During the two weeks I worked for you, I have become very interested in bondage and I can’t think of a better place to start than with two experts such as yourselves.’  I blushed and shied away from looking them in the faces, my earlier bravado flying with the wind.  ‘That would be wonderful, Sharon’, Mr. Thatcher said carefully.  ‘But if you are sure that you want to do this it must be as a model, with all the rights that entails.  Are you sure that you want to do this, my dear?’  I saw warmth and concern when I met his eyes and whispered, ‘Yes’. 

‘All right then its just a matter of the two of us coming up with some rules on how this contest will take place’, he told me.  ‘Please, feel free to add your own comments or concerns if any arise.’ 

‘The same type of bondage, once using rope and the second time using leather restraints and or straps?’, Mr. Thatcher started.  ‘No, they must be different bondage’s.  We don’t want the young lady matching our styles we want her to tell us which is the most comfortable form of restraint’, countered Mr. Stanton.  ‘Agreed’, said Mr. T.  ‘What’s your preference’, Mr. S. asked.  ‘Hog-tie position.  My wife says I have the most devilish way of making a comfortable bondage into a challenging one.  How about you?’  Mr. S. seemed thoughtful, ‘Standing, feet on the floor arms overhead. I’ll see your challenge and raise you, she has to be wearing high heels during the suspension.’  I could see the gleam in Mr. T’s eyes, ‘I’ll call your heels and add breast bondage to my position’. The two men stared at each other totally oblivious to my being there.  “Done”, cried Mr. S. 

I laughed a little nervously, forcing them to remember that I was a part of this little adventure.  “I’m not really sure that I understood everything you two gentlemen were talking about’, I began.  ‘But it sounded to me like you have two separate ‘bets’ going.  The first, as we discussed, to see which medium is more comfortable and the second...’  I paused to look into both of there eyes.  Neither of them showed the least sign of malice.  It just seemed to me that men will be boys and they had gotten a bit carried away with themselves.  ‘The second part, is to see who can make their bondage situation the most... challenging.’ 

Mr. Thatcher coughed a little and said, ‘you are quite correct, my dear.  We had forgotten to take your limitations into consideration.  Mr. Stanton and I will tone down our enthusiasm and return to the main issue at hand.’  Smiling I shook my head at the two older men, ‘you missed my point, gentlemen.  I just wanted to know what I needed to be the judge of during these two ordeals that you have concocted for me.’  I paused, not meeting there eyes to add, ‘I want to experience a true bondage situation.  I assure you that your enthusiasm will only make it better for all of us.’  I stopped for a moment not sure that I could go on.  ‘Lucinda gave me the Beginner’s Bondage Set and I have been experimenting with it.  So if you wish to add accessories, a gag and or blindfold, that’s fine with me.’ 

‘You are an extraordinary women, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher replied warmly.  ‘Here Here’, Mr. Stanton concurred.  I blushed as Mr. T. continued, ‘I need to get a few things together and you my dear need to be wearing less clothing.  It is important that you be able to feel the rope so that you can judge upon its comfort.  So if you would be so kind as to put on something appropriate we can start.’  I turned obediently to my room.  ‘No, no, my dear’, Mr. S. said making me stop in my tracks and turn around.  ‘If your looking for the whole ‘bondage experience’ as you call it, you never leave until you are dismissed or told to leave.  Also whenever you address one of your principles, you should address them as Sir or Mam, depending on their sex.  Do you understand young lady.’  I looked towards the floor, like a schoolgirl caught doing something naughty and responded softly, ‘Yes, sir’.  Mr. T. nodded his head and Mr. S. said, ‘Very good, you may go now.’ 

Once I had closed the door, I stripped naked in a flash.  I thought of walking out in just my birthday suit, but I knew that that would just lessen my pleasure.  I needed a sexy outfit.  The bustier was out as it covered my breasts and while I didn’t know what they had meant by breast bondage, I was sure it meant that my breasts would need to be bared.  Searching through my belongings, I found the perfect items.  A black and gold bra and panties set.  They were from Victoria’s Secret and therefore of exceptional quality.  I added a black satin garter belt and black hose.  For my feet I added my favorite soft black leather slippers.  They hadn’t mentioned anything about heels in this scenario and if I was going to be bound for any length of time I might as well be as comfortable as possible. 

Feeling sexy and wanting to strut my stuff, I opened the door and approached the two men.  Mr. Thatcher’s eyebrows rose a bit, but otherwise continued to regard me normally.  Mr. Stanton on the other hand, jaw had dropped open.  ‘My God’, he said. ‘She’s a dead ringer for your wife.’  Mr. S. smiled at me and answered responded, ‘Yes, put a curly brunette wig on the young lady and she could certainly pass for my wife.’  Then he spoke to me.  ‘My wife also has an amazing body, but you are a shade taller I would say.  About five seven?’, he asked.  ‘Yes, sir’, I replied saucily.  ‘And what would you have me do first, Sir’. 

‘Come closer, my dear’, he said in a voice that held a tone of command.  I walked to within three or four feet of the two of them.  ‘Remove your bra’, Mr. Thatcher’s voice continued to be warm and friendly, but it definitely now was one of command.  ‘Yes, sir’, I responded automatically as I removed my breast covering.  ‘Very, very good’, he said eyeing my chest.  ‘Thirty-six B or C’, he questioned me.  ‘C is more comfortable, but I can squeeze into a B’, I responded.  Mr. Stanton glared at me and cleared his throat.  ‘Sir’, I added quickly, at once understanding his meaning.  He reached out and cupped one of my breasts, not fondling it, just feeling it.  I flinched a little at first, but quickly relaxed.  I was getting very excited by the entire situation and I was sort of sad that he wasn’t fondling me.  ‘It is wonderful, to be young’, he opined.  ‘Your breasts are exquisitely firm and just the proper side of large.’  He paused, so I responded, ‘Thank you, sir’.  I sighed a little as his hand left me.  ‘Yes’, he said talking to Mr. Stanton, ‘I believe that I will start with the breast bondage and then work on the main position afterwards.’  Mr. S. nodded sagely, but did not say anything in reply. 

‘Turn around and  cross your wrists behind you, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher commanded.  Doing as instructed, I soon felt rope encircle my wrists.  In less than a minute he was done.  I tested the bonds and found that there was a little give to the rope, enough to ensure that they weren’t cutting off my circulation at least, but not enough to allow me any chance of freeing myself.  What was I doing?  I was standing between two men, nearly naked, while they were setting about to take away my freedom, bit by bit.  Shouldn’t I want them to stop?  I smiled to myself.  Yes, I guess that I should, but I don’t!  ‘Turn around once more, my dear’, Mr. T. told me.  I turned and faced the two men.  Mr. T. was folding a rope in half, so that it formed to equal sized pieces.  He slid the rope around my waist and then threaded the twin taped ends through the eye formed at the center of the bent rope.  Putting one hand on my stomach, he tugged the rope tight, until it bit into my soft flesh.  ‘Spread your legs a little wider, my dear’, he requested.  I moved my slipper clad feet about eighteen inches apart while responding, ‘Yes, sir’.  He passed the rope between my legs, so that the twin cords rested right up against my vagina.  He slid the ends between my back and the tight waist rope, then pulling to tighten the cords he tied them off behind my back.  Quite a bit of extra rope dangled between my legs, but no explanation was given as to why. 

‘This is sometimes referred to as a rope chastity belt.  It is best applied without your wearing panties,’ Mr. Thatcher informed me.  ‘That information was simply for your own edification, young lady and should in no way be taken as a request.’  I nodded my head and replied, ‘I understand, sir’.  The ropes were not painful, even the one digging into my middle.  All I felt was a little uncomfortable pressure. 

‘Please sit down on one of the bar stools’, he commanded waving vaguely in the direction of the bar.  I walked over to the chairs, turning I backed up against one.  Using my bound hands to make sure I would that I would find the center of the stool, I shimmed my way up onto the high perch.  I rested my feet on the bar between the stools legs and watched as Mr. Thatcher prepared what looked like a small lasso.  ‘Lean forward, my dear’, he said.  I knew what he was looking for, so I thrust my chest forward.  Encircling my left tit with the cord, I noticed that it was narrower than the rope he had used earlier.  He tightened the cord around the base of my breast until he noticed me wince.  Using the same motions I remember my father use when he hand tied his own fishing flies, he wrapped the cord about my tit.  Five more perfect spirals formed about my breast.  Each as tight as the first, they formed a tight rope cuff about the base and the first half of my breast.  The result of this was that the top of my breast looked like a balloon about to burst, as all of the flesh that could not fit within the confines of the tight cord was pushed forward. 

‘How does that feel, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher asked as he stepped back to admire his handy work.  Still looking down at my bloated breast, I replied in a tight voice, ‘It feels like your going to win the discomfort part of your bet, sir.’  I took a deep breath and continued, ‘But, don’t let that stop you from finishing.  I knew that there had to be a tougher part to this bondage stuff than I had been playing with and this seems to be one example, sir.’  As he began to work on my remaining breast, he spoke, ‘That is correct, my dear.  I am sure that when you have heard people discussing bondage they use anachronisms, such as B&D.  This stands for bondage and discipline, what you are currently experiencing is the discipline part.  We use this to increase the level of sexual tension in our partners and sometimes to simply remind them who is the master of the situation.  He completed his work on my second breast and now I had two angry red balloons sprouting from my chest. 

Mr. Stanton closely examined the work, shaking his head and whistling softly.  ‘An absolute work of art, Michael.  Even to the fact that you have managed to make each breast look exactly the same size as its twin.  I know how difficult it is to do that and yet you made it look effortless.’  He made a half serious half comical bow and added, ‘You are a true master of the art, sir’.  Turning to me he said, ‘were that I was twenty years younger.  I would give all of those young bucks vying for your attentions a run for their money’.  I blushed at his gallantry, but I didn’t want to tell him there weren’t any ‘young bucks vying for my attentions’ at the moment. 

Mr. Thatcher again performed his rope-folding trick, but this time the rope was much longer.  Threading the ends through the eye at the fold he formed a small double cord circle.  He knelt down before me and commanded, ‘Lift your feet up, my dear’.  I did as instructed, but it wasn’t easy.  I again had to use my bound hands to balance me while I did so.  ‘Very good’, Mr. T. said as I felt the rope encircle my ankles.  ‘You may lower your feet back to their previous position’.  I placed my slippers on the metal bar and leaned forward to watch my boss work.  He circled my ankles once again with the twin ropes, then passed the rope between my ankles circling the horizontal bindings.  This served to tighten the initial coils, which now made neat white furrows in the sheer black stockings that sheathed my legs.  I knew without even trying that it would be impossible to escape these bonds. 

This completed he began to wind the rope tightly about both legs, encircling them in neat perfectly spaced spirals upward over my calves.  He stopped just below the knee, where he again passed the rope between my legs to circle four of the horizontal coils.  He stood up and retrieved another rope and prepared it in the same manner.  Looking at his rope work, I marveled at its neatness.  Exactly like on my breasts, the rope coils were so exactingly placed that they seemed to form a single sleeve covering my lower legs.  Balancing myself, I lifted my legs up for a better view, ‘That’s wonderful’, I said in admiration to Mr. Thatcher.  He looked at me and then at Mr. Stanton. 

‘You forgot to say, sir, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher shook his head sadly.  ‘In a normal bondage encounter you would be disciplined for that lapse.  Since you are helping us settle an argument and new to this game, I feel some leniency is in order.  Of course you must be punished in some way’, he said off handily, as he turned to Mr. Stanton. ‘Do you have any suggestions?’  Mr. S. looked thoughtful, ‘you were going to gag the young lady before you were finished, weren’t you?’  Mr. T. answered, ‘Yes, of course’.  Mr. S. smiled, ‘And do you have any particularly unpleasant gags on the premises?’  Mr. T. also smiled, ‘Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.  A harness gag that my wife wore only once and has since refused to use again.  The ball was to large for her.’  Mr. Thatcher was reaching into one of the cardboard boxes he had brought into the room.  ‘An excellent idea, Arch’, he commended his friend.  ‘It will be uncomfortable enough to be labeled as a punishment and at the same will keep the young lady from making more gaffs.’ 

I figured that I wasn’t going to get a say in this as Mr. Thatcher placed the leather straps at the top of the harness over my head.  I opened my mouth with out being asked and was rewarded by the hard rubber ball being pressed into the opening.  Mr. T. placed one hand behind head and provided more and more pressure until the huge red ball parted my teeth enough to lodge itself.  There was no popping of the ball behind my teeth like with my more moderately sized ball gag, it just went in a tad more and then stopped.  It only got worse as he fastened all of the contraptions buckles, behind my head and neck and below my chin. 

There was no mirror to view myself in, but I could feel that my mouth was spread too widely for my lips to encircle the ball.  In fact I would bet money that most of what surrounded the ball was bright white teeth.  My jaw felt strained beyond endurance.  I thought that maybe I would have preferred the normal discipline to this so-called ‘punishment’.  Even my aching breasts couldn’t compare to this new level of discomfort.  I didn’t try to run from the pain, nor make my principles stop.  Instead I embraced all off the feelings flowing through me.  The soft caress of the ropes encircling my legs, the discomfort of my bulging bosom and the sweet agony of my gag.  Even the flexing of my leather slipper covered feet molding themselves to the steel bar that I was perched on, was part of my musings.  I was helpless, bound and gagged before strong men.  What could be more fulfilling than this? 

I had no fantasies what so ever about being taken against my will, but I sure wish there was a younger principle involved who would sate the growing hunger between my legs. 

Mr. Thatcher continued his work.  I wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to accomplish, but if totally immobilizing me was his goal, he was succeeding admirably.  The next bindings started just above my knees, with the same double coil of twin ropes tightened by wrapping the line around the bindings.  It was more difficult for him to pass the rope between my bound legs, but he expertly wormed the cords through, twice, using his fingers to spread my soft flesh.  ‘Scouch, forward on the stool as far as you can, my dear’, he asked warmly.  I realized that once that I had been ‘punished’ all malevolence towards me had vanished.  Again balancing myself with my hands I slid my butt forward until only about half of it was still on the leather seat.  He continued his wrapping of the soft cords about my legs until he had entirely covered my black stockings.  This left him only inches from the furnace between my legs.  As his hands wormed the circling bindings between my legs, I couldn’t help but groan. 

My eyes popped open when Mr. T. asked, ‘Are you all right, my dear’.  I blinked for a minute and mumbled into my gag.  Realizing that wasn’t going to work, I nodded my head up and down.  Accepting my answer he completed his final knot.  I bit hard on the ball, trying not to groan again as his fingers brushed up against my panties.  I was so sensitive down there that I swear that I could feel my short curly hairs pushed inward by his unintentional touch.  God, I hope that I’m not as wet as I feel and his fingers come away damp from my juices! 

I watched him carefully but he didn’t seem in anyway put out, so I decided that my fears were unjustified.  ‘You may sit back now, my dear’, he told me.  Once I had done this he turned the rotating seat of the stool ninety degrees to my right.  Positioning himself behind me he began the same process on my arms.  Starting a little ways below my shoulder blades and working downwards.  The first binding pulled my arms uncomfortably towards each other, straining my back muscles and forcing me to sit a little straighter.  As he coiled the rope about my arms he was pulling them backwards, this made me bow my head forward. 

Looking down at my legs, I again marveled at the perfection he had achieved in my bindings.  My lower appendages appeared more like a mermaids tail than female legs.  Only my knees and feet displayed my black stockings, every other inch of them was covered with the soft white rope. 

His ministrations behind my back had started to border on painful.  With each wrapping of the cords he had brought my arms closer together, until I thought that my elbows would touch each other.  The only reason that I think that they didn’t is because he performed one of his securing bindings just above the elbow.  This one wasn’t as rewarding as the last, as there were no erogenous zones in the area and it pulled my arms more tightly together.  My shoulder’s ached from the strain, but it was bearable all the same. 

Finishing the inverted rope pyramid that covered my arms, he turned to Mr. Stanton, ‘what do you think, old friend, ...the card table?’  I am not a fan of rodeo watching, so I had no idea what a ‘hog-tie’ was and didn’t understand why they wanted to place me on a table.  ‘It’s more comfortable than the floor, ’ he responded.  Mr. Thatcher scooped me off the stool and carried me over to leather-covered table in the corner.  As he lowered me onto the surface, I felt the padding beneath me give to my weight.  I don’t know if he could notice my surprised look around the harness gag, but regardless he explained, ‘Specially built, my dear.  The leather cover is supported by three inches of foam padding.  Below the table are sixteen handles, two to each of the octagonal sides, which can be used for rope, or...’, he nodded to Mr. S., ‘for leather straps.  You might remember pictures of it from our slide presentation.’  I looked up at him, as best as I could.  ‘This was the prototype for that kit.’ 

‘Now to finish off your confinement, I will be rolling you over onto your stomach’, he informed me.  I was on my side at the time, so it only took a little pushing to tip me over.  ‘Oooopppphhh’, I groaned loudly as the wind was knocked out of me.  Despite the padding the weight of my upper body mashed my already near to bursting breasts, into the tabletop.  It was like being pressed into a vice and I had to struggle to contain my rasping breathing. 

No one jumped to help me, in fact the two men simply looked on as I stopped my senseless side-to-side shifting and my breathing calmed down.  The excruciating pressure in my breasts finally became barely bearable.  ‘If you remember, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher began, ‘this is the discomforting addition to my bondage scenario, that you will be grading me upon.’  If I had been able to talk, I would have told him that he had gotten an A plus, with extra credit to boot! 

‘Are you ready and able to continue, my dear’, he asked with true concern in his voice.  I shook my head doggedly in the affirmative.  Using both hands he lifted my legs from the ankles off of the table.   Reaching a ninety-degree angle he stopped.  Holding my legs now with only one hand, he used the other to pull some of the loose rope from behind my back.  As I felt my waist rope shift and felt the rope between my legs loosen, I knew where he was but not what he was doing.  I quickly found out the use of that so-called chastity rope belt. 

Forcing my legs downward, until they were almost touching my buttocks, he slid the rope between my ankles.  Wrapping it once around those bindings, he then used the remainder of the rope to attach my ankles to my wrists.  I guess there wasn’t much rope left because he pulled my wrists so close to my ankles that it made my body bow from the tension.  As his hands left my tightly bound body, I tried to relax. 

My ankles in effect tried to spring back to a more comfortable position.  ‘Aaaarrrrgggghhhh’, I groaned loudly. The movement of my ankles away form my butt, pulled the rope between my legs taught as a bowstring.  Not only did the ropes bite into the tender flesh of my lower mouth, but also the ropes somehow got one of my cunt lips in between them!  It felt like someone had put a steel clamp on that sensitive part of my anatomy. I stopped all movement and tried to imitate a statue. 

‘Oh no’, said Mr. Thatcher in concern, ‘I can just imagine what happened.  I really should have warned you about that possibility.’  Rolling me on my side again, he continued, ‘Let me see if I can fix this’.  Mr. Stanton seemed to know what he intended, moving behind me to help keep my ankles close to my ass.  Mr. T.  worked on the ropes between my legs, even with all of the other pains that were passing through my body, his touch sent shivers through my body.  ‘There we go, I will just move the ropes to each side of your, ummm... vagina, and that should alleviate the pressure.’ 

Mr. Stanton pushed me back up onto my stomach.  ‘An incredible piece of work’, he said, ‘Pure artistry’.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mr. Thatcher, wiping his hands on a handkerchief.  Great, I sighed to myself, now he knows for sure that I am hotter than a bitch in heat.  This embarrassing thought made me forget all of my other discomforts. 

The two men talked about me clinically, like doctors.  Talking about my fine lines and how the rope just melds into my milky white skin.  They talked about how the rope between my legs, would keep me from moving very much.  Very much, I thought to myself, how about not at all!  They even commented upon my insightful choice of outfits and the sexy yet comfortable slippers I had selected.  Truly, the young woman has serious potential they concluded.  I wasn’t sure what they meant by that comment, but I preened at it nonetheless. 

My ears perked up as Mr. T. said to Mr. S., ‘How long should we leave the young lady bound for?’  Mr. S. was quiet for a moment than replied, ‘its ten now, how about until midnight’.  I couldn’t help myself, ‘Whaaaattt’, I blurted into the huge red ball.  Even to my ears it came out sounding more like ‘Uuuuupppp’.  Mr. T. said, ‘ No, my dear, I don’t think we need to ‘up’ the time limit.  Two hours should be sufficient.’ 

With that the two men moved back the bar and turned on the large screen TV, to a football game.  In the position I was in it was very difficult for me to turn my head to look over at them.  I stole glances once in awhile but that was all I could manage.  Mostly I just looked at the brown leather table top in front of me. 

My body was still bowed, and despite Mr. Thatcher’s help with the ropes between my legs, I had to keep as still as possible.  As my legs became more tired more pressure was placed on those damning cords.  I tried to pull at my ankles, with whatever arm strength that I had remaining but this only made it worse.  My poor cunny was now being squished between the two ropes.  Besides this, my aching shoulder blades and the God-awful gag I was anything but comfortable.  Laughing to myself, I realized that I couldn’t imagine my employer losing the discomfort part of the bet.  A hog-tied mummy with its mouth propped open with a huge ruby, is how I imagined myself.  I had wanted a true bondage experience and I had certainly gotten my wish. 

From time to time they walked over and checked on me.  Asking me if I was OK and reviewing some of my bindings.  I loved it when one or the other would run their hand over some of the ropes.  I needed to be touched, badly.  The best, though, was when I was rolled onto my side so Mr. Thatcher could make sure that my breasts weren’t damaged.  He tickled the nipples of both  tits with the tips of his fingers until they sprang to attention.  ‘Perfect’, was all that he said.  So as the rolled me back onto my stomach I surmised that the rise they had gotten out of my nipples meant that my breast were still functioning properly. 

The football game finally ended and the news came on.  Shortly after that the two men were back, undoing my bindings.  I couldn’t believe that it was over.  At first I didn’t think that I could possibly survive two hours, but now that it was over I was unsure as to where the time had gone.  After the initial pains had subsided, I found that I was left with sort of a nagging discomfort.  The rope between my legs had only become an irritant rather than a torturous device.  I must admit that when the gentlemen weren’t looking my way I even jerked my feet a few times to use the ropes as a stimulant for my fireful cunny.   Even my bound breasts got used to the devilish treatment.  Only the damn huge ball gag never became bearable. 

Fortunately, the gag was removed first.  Working my jaw muscles to release the ache, I started to say, ‘That was....’ I never got to the next word.  ‘No, no, my dear’, Mr. Stanton said, ‘don’t say anything now until you have tomorrow’s experience to measure it against.’  I thought about it and replied, ‘All right, sir.’  The cords binding my breast almost popped off when their knots were released. ‘Ohhhhhhh’, I sighed in relief.  The rest of my ropes came of quickly. 

I was helped into a standing position by the table and was surprised to see that I needed the help.  It took a few minutes for the blood to start flowing normally throughout my body.  My legs tingled from thighs to ankles.  I was handed my bra, but shook my head no.  ‘You’ve already seen them, sir, and right now I’d just like to leave them unconfined.’  I did a few minutes of aerobic warm up exercises to loosen up my tight muscles. 

story continues in Leather & Lace

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