Leather & Lace

by The White Knight

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© Copyright 2002 - The White Knight - Used by permission

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Leather & Lace
Chapter 4 – The Wager; Part II
By the White Knight

 ‘Thank you very much, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher said as he watched me bend and stretch. ‘You have been a marvelous help this evening and I wish you a wonderful nights sleep.’  He was obviously giving me permission to leave.  ‘No, thank you very much, sirs’, I began, ‘It has been an honor to receive my first full bondage experience at the hands of two such distinguished gentlemen.  But, I have a favor to ask you, sirs.  Actually a rather large favor...’ I trailed off trying to gather my courage to make my request.  Looking up I noticed that Mr. Thatcher had lost his clinical look and was turning a bit white.  Mr. Stanton looked equally uncomfortable. 

‘Ahhh, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher said before I could continue, ‘I am a married man and there are certain limitations that, that imposes upon me....’  Now I realized what they were so worried about, trying not to smile, I said, ‘Oh no, that’s not what I am referring to, sir.  I’ve seen the pictures of your wife and children, I’m not trying to cause you any trouble.  It’s just...’  I really had their interest now, but it was tough to get the words out.  I had thought about them during my entire captivity, but now found it difficult to utter them.  Finally I blurted, ‘I would like you to tie me to my bed  for the evening and then unbind me in the morning....sir’. 

The men both smiled.  ‘Extraordinary’, Mr. Stanton said. ‘My dear young lady we salute you and would be happy to accommodate your wish.’  Mr. Thatcher looked at me warmly and asked, ‘Are there any special instructions that you would like to give us concerning your over nights restraint?’  I nodded my head, and said, ‘Yes.  I would like to have my wrists and ankles bound to the corners of the bed, and to be gagged and blindfolded.  I would appreciate if you could find a gag that is more comfortable than the one we used earlier though, sir.’ 

‘Not a problem, my dear’, he answered.  ‘And you no longer have to refer to us as sir, your bondage session is over’.  I smiled past my fears of telling my true feelings, ‘Actually I wouldn’t really feel comfortable calling you by your given names and I kind of like it.., sir.’ 
He nodded sagely, ‘that’s fine young lady.  I am sure that you want to freshen up, a little so just call us when you are ready.’ 

As I left for my bedroom, I overhead Mr. Stanton, say something about ‘my boy... ’ and ‘what a truly extraordinary women...’ I didn’t know what these things meant, but I had other plans in mind so I let it slide.   Stripping out of my few pieces of clothing, I utilized the bathroom to take a quick sponge bath.  From the back of the closet I removed my multi pack stimulator from the suitcase I had secreted it in.  Five minutes and I had the dildos strapped securely into me.  From the draw I had assigned to nightclothes, I pulled out a set of pink silk pajamas.  First the top went on.   It was loose and roomy,  resembling a man’s work shirt with a wide lapel.  The elastic waistband of the bottoms, rested on top of the leather belt about my waist.  I looked at myself in the full-length mirror on the door and decided that the dildos and straps couldn’t be seen.  The cords running over my butt showed a little, but I knew how to handle that.  I slid into a pair of pink nylon Isotoner slippers and opened the door. 

‘Gentlemen’, I called, ‘I could use your assistance now’.  I raced back to the bed and pulled off the quilt.  I laid down, spreading my extremities towards each of the posts in preparation.  I didn’t have to wait long.  I could tell as they walked in that there was some type of tension between them.  Mr. Thatcher carried rope in his hands and Mr. Stanton was burdened with an assortment of leather straps and cuffs. 

They both started to talk at once.  Mr. T. excused himself and said something like guests first.  ‘My dear’, Mr. Stanton began, ‘you didn’t specify what type of restraints that you would like to be used in binding your lovely form to your bed.  I have tried to explain to Mr. Thatcher, that after all of you time that you spent in rope tonight, that you probably would like a change of pace’.  He held forth his goodies.  ‘However, Mr......’ 

I cut him off quickly and raised myself onto my elbows.  ‘Gentlemen, I apologize for not being more specific in my request.  And I am truly sorry if I have caused any rift between two such wonderful friends.’  I paused thinking how best to frame my next words. ‘What I would like for tonight is to be bound with rope...’  Mr. Thatcher beamed and Mr. Stanton looked grim.  I hurried on with my explanation, ‘sort of a continuation of our earlier contest.  Then tomorrow night, I would very much like to sample your wares Mr. Stanton.  I think this will give me a much better appreciation of both of your conflicting claims, so that I can make a truly informed decision.’  Both men were now smiling, so  I smiled also.  Lying back down, I spread my arms towards the opposite posts.  ‘Whenever you are ready, gentlemen?’ I said with a slight questioning tone to my voice. 

Mr. Stanton put his leather goods down on a chair and waited for Mr. Thatcher to do the honors.  We were both surprised, when Mr. T. handed him two of the ropes and said, ‘They say many hands make light work, would you mind helping me fulfill this beautiful young lady’s request?’  Mr. Stanton laughed a little, which relieved any of the existing tension in the room and agreed readily.  As the two men worked, Mr. Stanton asked, ‘So you like the spread eagle position, my dear?’  I blushed a little and replied, ‘If you mean tied to the corners of the bed, yes.  It’s the only position I have been able to achieve by myself with my nylon restraints’.  He looked into my eyes, ‘by yourself, my dear?  Why don’t you get your boy friend or... lover to help you.’  They had finished their work.  I was now bound tightly, but not uncomfortably to the bed.  There I was in my silk PJ’s talking to two men as if we were sitting at the kitchen table.  I laughed at the sheer incongruity of the situation.  ‘If you mean to ask, if I am gay’, I replied, ‘the answer is a definitive NO!  And as for my boyfriend I kicked him out over a month ago.  Besides I don’t think he would have cared for this new passion I have developed.  He was rather a stuffy sort, not  very inventive, which is part of the reason he’s history.’ 

I had said more than I had wanted to, but it had just sort of spilled out.  ‘That’s really very sad young lady’, said Mr. Stanton with real concern in his voice.  ‘At such a time in your life, when you are delving into a whole new realm of excitement, it is a terrible thing not to have someone to share it with.’  He shook his head sadly.  ‘Maybe Mr. Thatcher and I can come up with someone, whom you might like.’  He didn’t give me a chance to contradict him, as he finished with, ‘Yes, I think we owe it to you to at least try.’  How do you argue with that, I thought. 

‘Time to go to sleep, young lady’, Mr. Thatcher said changing the subject.  He was holding a gag that looked like a scarf with a ball in the center.  I opened my mouth and the bulge in the scarf slid in easily.  As he bound it behind my head he explained that it was a favorite of his wife’s and that it had a beanbag in the center.  It was a mouthful, but Ann was right, it was much more comfortable than a ball gag.  Mr. Stanton placed a white satin sleep mask over my eyes and slid the strap into place behind my head.  He then did the nicest thing that anyone had done to me in a long time.  He kissed me on the fore head and whispered, ‘Sweet dreams’.  Then I felt the comforter being draped over my bound form.  After a few moments, I heard a light switch click and the door close.  Despite the aching of most of the muscles in my body, I luxuriated in the feel of the soft ropes and swiftly fell into a deep sleep. 

‘Sharon, Sharon, wake up’,  someone was calling.  Slowly, my senses returned.  I am not what you would call a morning person.  As my eyes cracked open, I realized that I could see.  Obviously the blindfold had been removed.  The gag was also gone and I could see and feel them working on my wrist and ankle bindings.  No, Dorothy, I said to myself, it wasn’t a dream.  No reason to be embarrassed, just relax, I told myself.  They gallantly had left the comforter to cover me as they removed my restraints. 

I smelled the coffee before I saw it.  Mr. Stanton nodded towards the drink and said, ‘Thought you might like a little pick me up while you get ready.  You had a long night last night.  I hope that you slept well.’  I smiled the best smile I could muster upon waking and responded, ‘Thank you for asking and yes, I slept very well.’  Both men moved to the door.  ‘We will leave you alone then.’ 

When they left I jumped out of bed... and felt every muscle in my body ache.  I couldn’t go through the day like this.  Stripping the dildos out of me and washing them off, I hid them away.  I carefully folded and put away my silk pajamas, then found the widest open area in the room.  Naked, I ran through a fifteen-minute aerobic workout, concentrating on bending, stretching and other muscle relaxing exercises.  I felt better as the hot water of the shower cascaded over my body.  It stung a little when it hit my breasts, so I turned my back to the spray, figuring they might be a tad sensitive for a while.  The pulsating water did wonders to relieve the tightness in my shoulder blades.  Performing my normal routine of getting ready for work, I dressed quickly and headed for the kitchen. 

The men were talking business, and except for a brief exchange of good mornings, they basically left me to myself.  As we drove to Mr. Stanton’s office and we chatted about the countryside, the weather and his company.  Mr. Stanton also asked me questions about myself, where I had gone to school, about my previous employers and such.  He seemed surprised to hear that I had gone to very expensive all girl college and that I had previously worked for a prestigious law firm. 

I explained that my parents were quite well off, so their ‘little girl’ had to go to all of the proper schools, but that school and I never really got along. I didn’t have the aspirations of many of my peers towards climbing the corporate ladder or marrying someone just to fit into a certain social class.  The law firm I began working for just sort of fell into my lap, when I was graduating.  At one of my parent’s parties, I was introduced to a very nice ‘eligible’ man.  Dave and I didn’t have much in common, so he talked about his work.  After telling him that I had taken a few law classes, but really had no idea what I want to do for a career, he came up with an interesting suggestion.  Work as a legal secretary.  If you find that you like the law you can go back to school for your degree.  To me it was a way out of my parent’s home, to my father it was a wonderful idea. Within a week, I was working at the Dave’s firm. 

I found the law part of the work dreary, but the administrative end of managing two to four lawyers’ schedules was like manna from heaven to me.  I loved being in the ‘know’ on all the major going’s on in the office.  Being part of the team, you might call it.  My favorite part was knowing that I could make that onerous task look easy.  No I wasn’t one of ‘them’, but they respected me none-the-less. 

I paused in my recollections and Mr. Stanton asked, ‘But why did you leave, it sounds like you had a good thing going there?’ 

As I was slowly assimilated into there culture, I began to think that maybe my parents and peers weren’t all wrong.  So, I started to date Dave.  It was never what I would call a big romance, but we seemed to have fun at all of the social events.  We started living together shortly afterwards.  If I had done this with someone other than Dave my father probably would have disinherited me.  So, life went on and on ...and on.  After the newness of it all had worn off, I started to realize that this was not what I wanted.  If we weren’t out, he was glued to the Television set.  To make matters worse, CNN or sports were all he cared to watch.  Even when we started talking about it, it just didn’t get any better. 

After almost a year of this, I woke up one morning and decided enough was enough.  He seemed to be shocked when I asked him to leave.  It was a pretty ugly scene and I just wanted to get away from everything that reminded me of it.  I resigned from the firm that morning, agreeing only to stay on long enough for them to find my replacement.  Mom refused to let Daddy cut my allowance off, so I was able to continue paying my rent.  Needing to pay the rest of my expenses I went to work at a temp. agency.  Looking over at Mr. Thatcher I added, ‘that is what brought me to Leather & Lace, and I am glad that it did.  I really would like to thank you and all of the people at the company for making me feel so at home.  Even in such a short time, I feel like I am part of the team and I have enjoyed the experience quite a bit.’  I wasn’t trying to lay on the soft soap, what I was saying was true. 

Mr. Thatcher looked at me and said in that warm way of his, ‘you are a part of the team, my dear, you have proved it since the first day of your employment.  Now, that you have joined us its evident that you are ‘assimilating’ yourself into our culture.  After this trip we will have to have a discussion about more permanent employment within our company.’  I liked the way he emphasized our company, but my mind also keyed in on the ‘assimilating’ myself into their culture.  He was correct, that is exactly what was happening to me.  But, where the law firm was boring and stodgy, this company was exciting and vibrant. 

The workday seemed to take a long time to get through.  I ran the computerized screen show at a meeting of over twenty people.  Then it was take notes and make myself useful.  At four o’clock Mr. Thatcher sent me back to the house to supervise the caterers.  We were throwing a dinner party, for all of the senior people of Mr. Stanton’s company. 

The caters arrived on time and everything went smoothly.  I felt comfortable enough by five-thirty to leave the manager alone and adjourned to my room.  I didn’t have a lot of time so I limited my activities, to my aerobic workout, showering and dressing.  I was still incredibly horny from the night before and wished I had time for a little release, but duty beckoned. 

Mr. Thatcher and Mr. Stanton, had spoken of the planned event, and had said that they would be wearing Tuxes.  I was deemed the hostess for the party so I chose to wear one of the gowns that I had brought with me.   The plush black velvet dress, was backless with a halter-top.  The collar that I buttoned behind my neck was gold, as was trim that was used to accentuate the gowns lines.  The bright trim lined both sides of my halter top, the V of which did not close until it reached, the matching gold belt.  This was done very discreetly, however, so that there was plenty of material to totally surround both of my breasts and showed almost no cleavage.  The cut of the halter was so ingenious that it made my breasts look like two separate black peaks. 

The dress itself was tight around my tush and thighs then flowed straight to the floor.  There was a little flaring at the bottom, but it really wasn’t needed.  It wasn’t needed because of the gold line that ran down the right side of the dress.  It was really two sets of lines of gold trim that overlapped.  What the trim was highlighting was a slit that ran from floor to thigh.  If I wanted to show off a little leg all I had to do was shift myself appropriately, but otherwise they would be fully covered.  I wore the black satin garter belt and sheer black hose.  The matching shoes were a sexy pair of suede ‘T’ strap pumps, sporting a three plus inch heel.  I finished off my ensemble with gold earrings and a thick gold bracelet.  I wore my hair up, in a Jane Seymore style, leaving just a few curls to dangle next to my ears. 

The evening went off splendidly.  Mr. T. and Mr. S. were in rare form, making all of the others feel comfortable.  Champagne and wine flowed freely and a good time was had by all.  I had many pleasant conversations, but most of the people attending our small banquet were married so everything was kept pretty tame.  Only one of the men got a little out of line and a stern word of warning from Mr. Stanton stopped him in his tracks. 

As the party broke up, I ushered people to the door where there were hired cars to take everyone home.  Mr. T. had made it clear to me, ‘that no one was going to drive away from his party with too much drink in them’, so I had set up this alternative.  By the time the caterers and cleaning people left it was nearly eleven.  Mr. Thatcher said to me, ‘It’s rather late, my dear.  Are you still game to continue our contest?’  I nodded and smiled at Mr. Stanton before replying, ‘Actually I am looking forward to it, sir.’  Mr. T. smiled also and then said, ‘Wonderful.  When you are ready meet Mr. Stanton and I in the basement.’ 

Going to my room I checked my make up and added a few splashes of perfume.  Touching up my hair, I smiled at my reflection and left for the basement. 

The room was similar to the recreation room above, with the exception that it included a pool table and a large wooden frame near the far wall.  They were congregated next to this frame and looked surprised to see me so quickly.  ‘Weren’t you going to change, my dear?’ questioned Mr. T.  ‘Unless its a problem for you, sirs’, I began.  ‘I would like to wear this outfit during the remainder of the contest.’  As I spoke I crossed my wrists above my head and spread my legs about two feet apart, showing off my black stockings to just above the knee.  They still looked skeptical so using one hand I parted the slit up to my thigh.  Then I pointed at my shoes and said with a smile, ‘I have come prepared, high heels and all, sirs.’ 

Both men laughed.  ‘You are truly amazing young lady’, Mr. Stanton began.  ‘Your dress is just fine, but your shoes... well, let me just say that they aren’t high heels.’  I started to argue, but a wave of his hand cut me off.  He walked over to me and handed me a box, making motions with his hands that I should open it.  Setting it down on the pool table, I did so.  Once I pushed the white tissue paper aside I was greeted to a marvelous site.  Black patent leather pumps, with a narrow pointy toe, all resting on a six-inch spike heel.  The tip of the toe and half of the spike heel where covered by gold plate.  They were exquisite.  I lifted one from its cocoon of tissue paper and ran my fingers over the steeply arched sole of the pump.  The patent leather gleamed like a shinny mirror.  Mr. Stanton said, ‘One of my subsidiaries makes most of the shoes that you see in your catalog.  I took the liberty of checking your shoe size while we were in your bedroom last night, for just this purpose.’  He paused and then added, ‘Do you like them?’ 

I gave him a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, ‘There beautiful.  No they are better than that, they’re exquisite!’  I felt like a kid at receiving a birthday present and it showed.  ‘But, how did you know that I would be wearing black and gold tonight?’  He nodded his head towards the table next to the frame, on which were three other boxes.  ‘These were my first choice’, he explained.  ‘Not only because they are lovely, but also because I thought you would wear the same bra and panty outfit as last night.  However, I do know who women like to change their minds so I came prepared.  Those boxes contain similar pairs of heels in red, white and plain black.’  I looked at the table in awe.  ‘They are all yours, my dear’, he finished.  I gave him another hug and said, ‘I’m sure that I will love them all, but I must confess that I don’t think that I will be able to walk in them.’ 

‘Highly understandable, young lady’, he answered, causing me to sigh in relief.  ‘Walking in heels like this takes quite a bit of practice.  But, we wouldn’t be asking you to walk in them, only stand in them!’  I looked at the sky high heel dubiously and Mr. Stanton continued, ‘Shall we begin?’ 

Taking the shoes from me, he escorted me over to the frame.  The room had a normal eight-foot high ceiling, which the top of the frame almost reached.  It was made of heavy varnished wood that sprouted steel cables from the four corners and the four points of the compass.  ‘Is this another one of your kits, sir?’ I asked Mr. Thatcher.  ‘The deluxe version, not in the catalog yet’, he replied with a smile. 

Unlike last night, tonight’s bindings went fairly quickly.  I was asked to hold out my wrists and padded leather manacles were buckled into place.  They were fastened very tightly, but the foam rubber padding made them very comfortable.  The cuffs were just like I imagined them from the picture that I had seen in the catalog.  Thick black leather with chrome D rings and buckles.  Mr. Stanton reached above me and pulled upon the cable above my head.  It came down with the whining sound of machinery.  Using the snap clasp he attached both of my wrists to the end of the cable.  He nodded to Mr. Thatcher and I heard the ratcheting sound of a winch.  I watched as my hands went from waist level, to chest level, then eye level and finally over my head.  Mr. Stanton nodded again and the cable stopped its upward progress.  My arms were above my head, but not uncomfortably so; I waited for what was to come. 

Mr. Stanton knelt down in front of me and attached similar cuffs to my ankles.  The black cuffs were so tight that they seemed to meld into my legs and become part of my black nylons.  He then undid the clasps on my shoes and removed them.   My arms had not been tight before, but now without my high heels I was left standing on tiptoe so as not to be left hanging entirely by my wrists.  Before this could become uncomfortable, he placed the new heels beside my feet.  I lifted my right foot and used my stocking clad toes to feel there way into the pump.  I found the heel and slid inward down the steeply arched sole until my toes were tightly ensconced into the narrow leather confines.  Doing the same with my left foot released all of the strain on my arms, but now I had to worry about balancing in the six-inch heels. 

I swayed and shifted my feet from side to side, trying to get used to new shoes.  My ankles had to work hard to keep my feet from shifting in the high spikes.  This made me reminiscent of my first attempts to wear high heels as a young girl.  Putting on those two-inch pumps for the first time and practicing in them for hours, so that I could walk without stumbling.  Then being so proud and at the same time self conscious as I walked down the center aisle at church to communion.  I wondered if all of the boys were looking at my feet and thinking that I must be ‘hot stuff’ because I was wearing heels.  As I began to get the feel for my new shoes, I realized that if I wore these in public that all of the ‘boys’ would definitely think I was ‘hot stuff’. 

Mr. S. had left for a minute and now returned with a metal bar.  The bar was able to contact and expand as desired.  He looked over to Mr. T. and who said, ‘Two feet should be enough.  She is new to this and I doubt that she could take the usual three or more feet’.  I had no idea what they were talking about, until looking more closely at the bar I saw that it had eyelets at each end.  This must be a spreader bar, I now understood and they must be talking about how far that they are going to spread my ankles.  I looked down at my feet, which were comfortably set about eight or ten inches apart.  Two feet? Three feet or more?  What in these heels?  They must be crazy, I thought. 

‘A shade under three, I think’, answered Mr. S.  ‘Two and nine, lets call it.  Remember this is the stressful part of my bondage scenario.  I am sure that you made a lasting impression on the young lady with your breast bondage last night.  If I am going to be able to overcome that I will have to push this enchanting woman to her limits.’  This was another decision that I wasn’t going to get any input into, of that I was sure. 

It is at first difficult to think of yourself in such a submissive role, but it is freeing in other ways.  You get a certain sense of freedom, in letting someone else control your actions.  In this case if I had been asked I was sure that I would have opted for a smaller spread, but another part of me would always have wondered what the larger would have felt like.  In this way the two gentlemen had made the decision for me and I would reap both the trials and the tribulations of the affair, without being mad at myself for choosing the more or less difficult path. 

Mr. S. knelt again and commanded me to spread my ankles.  I did as requested, trying to achieve the required distance.  The strain on my ankles and the pressure of my toes pushing into the pointy toes of my shoes magnified as I spread my legs.  Mr. S. attached the spreader bar to one ankle then had me spread a little further and attached the other ankle.  This made for a very unstable platform on which to stand.  I found that I was using my hands to hold to the cable above my head to make it easier to balance myself.  Actually my hands were wrapped around a six-inch length of rubber hose that encircled the steel cable.  I had not understood the necessity of this little addition prior to this point, but now I was very happy to take advantage of it.  Holding on to a steel cable with my bare hands, would not have been possible for very long.  I needed this help in order to remain standing in my pumps.  I soon wanted out of the painful heels, but I realized that was the ‘trial’ part of this bondage situation.  If I did that, or fell out of my heels, I would just have to get right back into them and start all over again. 

I looked down again and saw Mr. S. attaching the cables coming from the bottom corners of the frame to a second set of D rings on my ankle cuffs.  When he had both the left and right leg clasps in place, I heard that distinctive ratcheting sound of the winch.  Both ankle cables were pulled at the same time.  They went slowly enough that I was able to slide the toes and heels of my shoes sideways into the new position, without ‘falling out of them’.  When the winches were stopped, the cables were tautly strung to there respective corners.  Looking down at the uncomfortable set up, I saw the left cable attached to the outside D-ring on my leather ankle cuff.  The inside D-ring was clasped to the spreader bar.  The bar ran its nearly three feet between my widely spread legs and then terminated in another chain link attached to the inside D-ring on my right ankle restraint.  The outside ring was pulled tightly to the corner by its attached cable.  Very effective immobilization, I thought to myself. 

Mr. T. stood and buckled a leather belt about my waist.  It was studded with D-rings around its entire length.  He used two of these D-rings to attach the cables from the East and West points of the frame to my sides.  Again the ratcheting commenced and did not stop, until the belt was pulled tightly enough that is was squeezing my stomach.  Just when I thought they were done, I heard the winch start again and my arms were raised upwards.  The cable pulled my arms till they were taut, but not high enough to take any of my weight off of my high-heeled perch. 

The final ingredients to my bondage were a gag and blind fold.  ‘My dear, pardon me for this gag’, Mr. Stanton began, ‘but Mr. Thatcher and I have decided that we had to make your gag at least partially as uncomfortable as last nights.  If we did not do this he would have an undue advantage in the scoring.’  He held up the gag for me to see.  It was a penis gag.  The rubber phallus was thick and about four inches long.  Yes, I could imagine that this would be as uncomfortable as last nights.  ‘I can see you point, sirs’, I sighed in response, ‘we couldn’t let any unfairness creep into my decision, now could we?’  Smiling I opened my mouth to except the rubber cock. 

I generally like to try new things.  While I had never used this type of gag before I had blown a number of men before, so I wasn’t anticipating any problems.  It always amazed what a man would do to get a good blowjob.  He would stand on his head and whistle Dixie, if he knew that that would be his reward.  I could make Dave do anything I wanted for an entire evening, by just whispering in his ear what was waiting for him at the end of the night.  For myself, I took it as a personal challenge to see how much of my lovers manhood that I could get into my mouth and down my throat.  I had even learned to drink his cum, simply because of how crazy it made him.  Ahhh, if only I could have made him more interesting.  Or if only he had taken more control, and behaved like a man.... 

I could tell that the two gentlemen before me would not have been as easily manipulated.  In fact at the moment the shoe was on the other foot.  The penis slid easily between my lips, despite its unusual width.  It was only as the final few centimeters went in that I could feel it press up against the roof of my mouth and back of my throat. I had to fight off my gag reflex as it was pressed home.  Unlike a real penis this one did not bend quite as easily and felt like a fully erect cock from the moment it went in. Usually I have time to work up to that feeling and get used to it, but now wam bam thank you mam.  The leather straps were buckled behind my head and I was left with my mouth stretched widely open and my throat stuffed with a circumcised rubber head. 

The blindfold would have been anticlimactic if they hadn’t started one of the stupid devices you use when you’re learning to play music.  The metronome gave off that loud tick tick sound that you couldn’t block out, making you aware of every second that passed and making every minute seem twice as long.  I wasn’t sure which one of their ideas this was, whomever it was fiendishly clever. 

Two hours started to look like an eternity.  Even my dress, which I had picked to wear for the eroticism of being bound in it, was becoming uncomfortable.  Spreading my legs so much had caused it to be pulled taut against my left leg and when that wasn’t enough it began to bunch up beneath my rear end.  Not that it was exactly painful just one more nuisance. 

The cuffs held my wrists as comfortably as possible, but I was still putting a lot of weight against them at the tops, which were digging into the back of my hands.  The penis gag made breathing through my nose necessary, and generally just was a pain in the neck.  The pumps though were truly the punishment item they were intended to be.  Even after learning the trick of moving my heels more towards the center and my toes towards their respective corners, they were still downright uncomfortable.  Painful is probably a more appropriate term, but I had a hard time using it in my mind, as I was the one initiating it. 

Human feet are simply not made to have their heels held six inches in the air.  This forces much of the weight of your body down the steep incline of the shoes sole and into the tight confines of their pointed toes.  Usually your weight is spread out evenly over your entire foot, say if you are wearing sneakers.   With heels though the amount of surface area that your weight is spread upon is what is left of the sole that touches the ground.  That is to say basically the area about your toes.  To make matters worse, as the height of the heel increases more of the sole is need to create the arch from toe to heel.  Consequently less of the sole is available as surface area against which your weight can find purchase. 

Yes, I had much too much time to think while being bound like this.  Suffice it to say, that my toes were being squeezed into my mile high pumps and if it hadn’t been for the gag I would have been begging for their removal after the first fifteen minutes.   I don’t think that I would have had a problem handling the pumps, if my legs weren’t spread so far apart and if I could move them a bit.  But, there was no relief to be found for my pain peds in this position. 

In honesty I could get out of this if necessary.  They had given me a ball to hold in one hand and I was to drop it if the situation became too intense for me.  I refused to do so.  Instead, I worked on soaking up all of the feelings passing through me.  The painful ones as well as the few pleasurable ones.  Yes, despite my painstaking position, I was still sexually excited.  In fact I had been dying for some sexual release for almost two days now.  The new bondage position continued to warm my aching loins.  This in itself had both pleasure and pain associated with it.  Oh, God did I need to cum!  Time wore on. 

Unlike last night where I knew that the men were always close by, tonight they left me in silence.  Only the beat of the metronome filled the air.  I wasn’t sure if they were still there sitting quietly watching me or if the had adjourned to the upstairs.  They did check on me at intervals, I suppose to make sure that I had not dropped the ball.  But also to make sure that I hadn’t ‘fallen out of’ or more likely kicked of the killer heels. 

About twelve hours later, or at least that’s what it seemed like; I felt the cable holding my arms begin to loosen.  ‘Time is up, my dear’, Mr. T. said brightly.  I felt one of them remove my pumps from my aching feet.  My poor peds were almost paralyzed, so it took me a few moments to recognize the feeling of my comfortable slippers being put onto my feet.  My scrunched toes were giving off that pins and needles feeling that you get from being out in the cold to long as the circulation returns. 

One man stripped out the penis gag, while the other freed my ankles.  After I had gotten used to the penis gag, I had decided that it wasn’t as bad as the harness gag with the huge ball.  It left my mouth with that same kind of slurping sound that you hear when you’re giving a blowjob. I wondered if I had done that unintentionally or if that were normal?  The blindfold and the wrist restraints quickly followed. 

Mr. Stanton held my arm and led me over to a waiting chair.  I slumped into it exhaustedly.  This bondage had been much more strenuous than the previous evenings.  ‘How do you feel, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher asked me.  ‘I don’t think that I am supposed to divulge that information until tomorrow morning, sir’, I responded.  He looked at me kindly and said, ‘your trails are over young lady.  You have seen both worlds, as it were, and are now in a position to make a judgment.’  I looked over at Mr. Stanton, ‘Your not trying to get out of binding me to my bed tonight, are you sir?’, I asked.  ‘No, of course not, my dear’, he responded quickly.  ‘Then I believe that I should reserve my judgment until the morning, sirs’, I finished. 

Mr. Thatcher laughed and Mr. Stanton joined in.  ‘We have been out foxed by a nubie sub, Arch’, Mr. T. said.  ‘How do you like that.’?  Mr. S. laughed again and responded, ‘I love it.  I don’t think I’ve had this much fun with any of our models, since the time we bound your wife for the first new style catalog.’  That little remark breathed new life into my tired bones.  ‘If you gentlemen don’t mind I would like to take a shower and prepare for bed.  I would appreciate if you could be available in, say half an hour?’ I informed the happy gentlemen.  They made depreciating gestures and said that they would be there with ‘bells on’. 

I made it back to my room and stripped.  Did some stretching exercises and then took my shower.  Sliding the stimulator pack in, I took a few more seconds and turned the vibrator on.  It felt so good, but just as I was nearing my climax, someone knocked on my door.  I quickly turned off the vibrator saying loudly, ‘Just a minute’.  I threw on my pink silk PJ’s and slid into my pink slippers.  I couldn’t do anything about my flushed face so I opened the door. 

‘I am sorry to rush you, my dear’, Mr. Thatcher started.  ‘But it getting late for us older people and we’ve got a full day planned for tomorrow.’  I responded a little shakily, ‘No problem, I was just doing some stretching exercises to relieve some muscle tension.’  I laid down upon the bed and said, ‘whenever your ready’.  They bond me the same as the previous evening, with the exception of using leather cuffs and straps rather than rope.  The beanbag gag and sleep mask were put in place and then I heard the door shut. 

Unlike last night I did not get to sleep easily.  I tried shifting my hips and rubbing my buttocks back and forth, hoping to shift the dildo’s enough to get me off.  I had little success.  I was simply bound too tightly.  Groaning through the gag in frustration, I lay back totally spent. 

At breakfast the next morning I could tell that both men were anxiously awaiting my decisions.  After I had been unsuccessful in my masturbation attempts, I lay exhaustedly with little to do but think.  Therefore I had given plenty of thought to what I was about to say. 

‘Good morning, gentlemen’, I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee.  Setting up a dish of fruit and adding a cup of yogurt I sat down at the table.  I looked at the two men and began, ‘I am sorry Mr. Stanton, but I think that I preferred rope to the leather restraints.  I truthfully have a difficult time saying that one was more comfortable than the other, but I liked the personal touch of the rope.’  Mr. Thatcher looked smugly at his friend.  I continued quickly, ‘On the other hand Mr. Thatcher, your original thesis that rope could replace leather restraints, is well... all wet.’  I paused as Mr. T. frowned and Mr. S. smiled.  ‘I truly don’t believe that you could ship your kits without Mr. Stanton’s wonderful leather goods.  Mainly, because of there ease of use, but also because they are comfortable.  My final word on the subject is that an admitted expert bound me.  Mr. Stanton has attested to this himself and he seems to be an expert in his own right.  Now, if a lesser rope man had bound me, it is doubtful that I would have reached my current conclusion.  Therefore, for the most common bondage enthusiast leather restraints are probably the way to go.  Again, I am new to all of this but that is the way that I feel.’ 

I sipped my coffee and ate a little of my food.  I felt that I had assuaged both of their egos without straying from the truth.  ‘Mr. Stanton’, I began again.  ‘You won the most uncomfortable bondage scenario.  I didn’t think that anyone could beat your breast bondage, Mr. Thatcher, it was masterful, but....’ I let my voice trail off and shook my head.  ‘I know that I will love the pumps you have given me,  ...worn properly that is, Mr. Stanton.  But, used in a punishment capacity, they were far more uncomfortable than the breast bondage.  Anyhow gentlemen those are my decisions.’   Both men looked pleased with my answers and I was happy that I could give each of them one of the accolades, with a clear conscience.  But what I said was true.  In point of fact my feet were still so sore that I was wearing flats today, rather than the more normal office wear of mid-sized heels.  With my plaid skirt and white shirt I doubted that anyone would even notice the small incongruity. 

Leather & Lace
continues in
Chapter 5 – Painful Lesson in Sisterhood


story continues in