No Mercy!
by Anne Gray
NO MERCY! by ANNE GRAY
I knew what she was trying to shout, scream, plead and yell at me; it was her safe word – Mercy! But I had had enough of her nonsense and had her so well gagged nothing came out except muffled unintelligible sounds. Then she started humming her other condition red signal. I grinned at her and said I hear you, now shut up!
I was disgusted with her. I would spend a lot of my time planning a bondage scene very carefully and then get in character for it in black leather skirt, matching tightly belted jacket and my Mistress boots with heels THAT high and then before I was half way finished I got the signal to stop. Now what is the use of having code red signals if you don’t immediately react to them? I always had.
Then I would get her unwrapped from whatever position I had been developing and she would start bitching. It was just getting good. I really didn’t mean to use the “safe” signal; why didn’t you just keep going? I can take it!
This had happened three times in the last month and I was pissed off, frustrated and angry. Angry enough to use my own judgment as to if she was in trouble and angry enough to ignore her damn safe signals. This time I would call the shots. She was like the boy who had cried wolf once too often and I was going to take her to her absolute limit; then beyond.
I had all the equipment and items I needed tucked away in my private closet. Because of her attitude I had never had the chance to use some of them but today that would change.
We had started just as we always did with a boned, leather waist cincher
that I pulled particularly tight before knotting the laces. Suspecting
nothing she pulled on the pair of shoulder length kid gloves and held her
arms out so I could lace them from elbow to armpit.
She hadn’t seen the boots before and ooouu’d and arrr’ed that they
were beautiful but wouldn’t they hurt, then helped me to get her legs into
them. They were gleaming black leather, thigh high and heel-less;
steel shanks formed the shoe portion into an en pointe ballet configuration.
Resting her rear end in a chair we laced them with her pulling on the laces
as I squeezed the edges together and it took some time before we were finished.
Naturally, within minutes, she started to complain that her feet were feeling
very awkward and her insteps were hurting and how long did I expect her
to wear them.
I fitted a spreader bar between her ankles and told her to hush we had only just started. Pouting, she held out her gloved hands when I asked her too and let me fold the fingers into fists with the thumb tucked across the palm and work on heavy leather mitts that laced to the wrist.
Before we went any further I knew she was soon going to realize that things were not going as usual so I casually strapped her wrists to the arms of the chair and moved behind her to gather her hair in a ponytail tying it with a piece of cord that I loosely wrapped around the top bar of the chair back.
Now for the gag! I picked up a short metal rod from the table behind her and held it hidden in my right hand. It was only ¼” in diameter and had U shaped ends. Without warning I yanked on the cord attached to her ponytail and as her head jerked back she opened her mouth to scream and I quickly fitted a U of the rod over her middle lower tooth, pushed down and then in so the other U slotted over the upper tooth.
When I released my hold her mouth closed just a fraction and, without help, she would not be able to open her jaws far enough to clear the jaw spreader. I tied off the hair cord holding her head back and ran a temporary strap around her upper body and the chair to stop any excess movement while I installed the gag.
It was a masterpiece of design in several pieces that once installed would be very effective and just a tad painful but, then again, I wouldn’t feel a thing now would I?
Hard rubber grooved wedges slid in either side of her mouth clamping to her teeth and once they were in her jaws were held wide enough for me to remove the rod spreader. Now I used a pair of forceps to catch her tongue and pull it as far out as it would come. A hard rubber clam shell fitted across the back of her tongue and clamped down on it and then a short rod fitted in a socket in the top of the clam, through the stud hole in her tongue and into a matching socket in the bottom of the device.
A firm push with my two thumbs and the whole thing slotted back neatly between the two wedges with the halves of the clam locked tightly behind her teeth and against the roof of her mouth and her lower palate. Using my fingers and a small prod I packed the remaining spaces with foam rubber then fitted a rubber mouth guard over her teeth and under the inside of her cheeks then neatly taped her lips as closed as they would go over it.
Now she started with the grunting, groaning and humming and I ignored it all as I proceeded with my plan.
The leather bra was very special. It had 2” diameter holes for the top of her breasts and nipples to poke through. The edges of the holes had small grommets closely spaced around them. I had to remove the strap around the chair and her chest before I could tightened the bra strap behind her back, as I pulled on it those lovely mammary glands tried to force themselves through the holes in a most attractive, and available, manner.
The hard leather nipple cups also had closely spaced grommets around their edges but on the inside – oh now that was interesting! Very closely spaced ¼” long surgical needles surrounded a single ¾” nipple needle; boy was I going to push her limits.
Starting with her left breast I gently tongued the nipple to full arousal and then settling the point of the needle in the center of the puckered tip, pushed in and held it there while I used my other hand to ply a blunt needle and thin leather thread to connect the matching grommets around the two edges. With that one sewed in place and the grunting and groaning rising to a crescendo, I installed the right nipple needle cap.
Un-strapping her right wrist from the arm of the chair I held the mitted fist under my arm while I strapped a 14” metal bar to the inside of her arm locking it straight then I moved it over next to the left one and strapped them together at the wrist, elbow and biceps before reaching for the front arm binder sheath.
Once I got her fists into the leather pocket and laced the sheath to her wrists I pulled her out of the chair to sit on the floor and strapped her wrists to the middle of the ankle spreader bar; now I could get a good hold on the laces to finished installing the sheath without her thrashing around.
That done, I took another longer rod and strapped it to the inside of her right leg, there was no way it was going to bend. Pushing her over on her side, with her legs still held wide apart by the spreader bar, I reached for the jar of Vaseline and a rubber glove to pull on my right hand. First one, then two and finally three rubber covered fingers slid into her puckered rosebud and spread the gel generously before I took the huge but flexible, rubber butt plug and worked it in until the flange at the base was snug against the flesh of her rear end.
She was flopping around as helpless as a beached fish and I laughed at the look in her eyes as she saw me holding up the deeply ridged flexible rubber dildo, she knew where it was going and she was right. It took me some time but finally, with the occasional accidental (oh sure) slip of the fingers against her clit, I had it fully embedded and could attach a crotch strap to the waist cincher that I pulled to its last notch. That got another groan, but I was on a roll now.
I removed the spreader bar and used five straps to weld her legs together then ran a long narrow strap from the ring at the end of the arm sheath to the ones at the points of the ballet boots. I positioned myself across her shoulders and as I allowed my weight to force her down I pulled on the strap.
Gradually her arms moved along her booted legs and her chest touched her thighs. Now the nipple needles were going to come in to play. Taking a firm grip on the strap I flexed my knees and bounced down on her shoulders.
Well, what came out was nothing like a safe word. Even I recognized the “mmmmmmppppffft” as a cry of enough. I buckled the strap when her fists lined up with the toes of the boots; legs and arms both unable to bend and relieve the pressure.
I ignored her obvious plea and used a ratcheted hand held warehouse machine loaded with ¾” packing strapping to lock her arms to her legs and another across her shoulders to keep her chest crushed against her thighs. Now I brought out the leather body casing and moved her on to it. It laced from her buttocks, up her back, split at her neck to allow her head through and then down across her arms and legs to the tip of the boots. A large ring was embedded at the end.
I had her encased in gleaming black leather except for her head; it was next! There was disbelief in her eyes! She just couldn’t believe I had reached my own limit and was ignoring her safe word and her back up condition red signal.
Her eyes got even larger as she saw me fiddling with the kid leather discipline helmet but first I had another surprise. The double-barreled nostril insert slid easily into her nose but then I used a pair of needle nosed pliers to squeeze the inner part of the sleeve against her septum and that embedded the tiny needles lining the device. From the tears now streaming from her eyes I assumed it was a little bit painful but I remembered all the weeks of frustration and started to lace on the helmet.
When that was done I used a roller buckled gag strap across her mouth and reefed on it until it bit deeply into her leather-covered cheeks. A D ring on top of the helmet gave me the purchase for a piece of cord to pull back on her head and tie off at another ring at her rear end.
Now there was nothing left except to attach the snap hook from the ceiling
pulley to the toe ring and gradually haul her in the air. When those
pitiful eyes were level with mine I stroked her leather covered cheek and
said since today is my birthday I really appreciate you humming and grunting
Happy Birthday to me, I know that is your other code red signal but since
today is my day I just know you are wishing me well so I’ll go and get
my new riding crop and be right back to enjoy my present; thank you so
much!
Author’s note: This is a work of
fiction and the author in no way condones or promotes any activity that
is not entirely consensual so please, no lectures on ignoring safe words!
05.08.03