R/C Wench

by Pat Kole

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© Copyright 2008 - Pat Kole - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; electro; toys; anal; enema; nipple; collar; gag; torment; public; reluct; XX

This is the first day of our London vacation. I know it’s playtime. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks with anticipation and dread. I come out of the shower, naked. Just a blank canvas for the picture Dave chooses to create.

The first thing he has me do is put on a pair of slutty looking 5” black wedge heels. Clearly a man’s fantasy brought to life. A strap across the front of my ankles makes sure they stay in place. They are taller than I am used to, and so I teeter a bit as I test out the shoes, walking back and forth. I hope I won’t be on my feet *too* long.

He puts my arms behind my back, each hand gripping the opposite elbow. He then slips an arm sheath over them. It’s like a leather square pocket with straps. Dave easily guides the straps from the top corners of the sheath over my shoulders, crossing between my breasts, and connecting to the opposite elbow so the sheath won’t slip down. My arms are totally useless. They don’t move unless my body does. You'd be surprised how much one uses even slight movements of the arms to balance. With the sheath on I have to be very careful.

I take a quick look down, and realize how much having my arms behind me makes my breasts stick out. I’m sure the effect was intentional for Dave’s viewing pleasure.

I take a few steps to test out how the arm sheath affects my ability to balance. “Strut you slut!” He calls out. I try to walk sexier. “Wiggle that ass when you walk! Flaunt it!” I make sure to put one foot in front of the other like walking a line to exaggerate the shaking of my ass as I teeter back and forth for his amusement.

He holds up an underbust corset, and I stop. With the arm sheath, I realize I can’t even help to put it on. I pull the sheath as far away from my back as I can. Dave wraps it around my waist, and hooks the front busk together. I feel the laces pull in, nipping in my waist, and making my boobs all the more prominent. He laces from the bottom to the middle, then top to the middle, tying off the laces. I feel the corset enforcing me to stand up straight, and feel my breathing change from the corset, boobs heaving up and down with every breath. Your oogling eyes following my bouncing boobs tell me you noticed it too.

I start sauntering along, shooting off a “come hither” glance over my shoulder. The glance at Dave’s crotch shows he appreciates my efforts.

As I walk by Dave, he grabs my shoulder, and bends me over a table, pressing against my protruding breasts. A cool finger smears something around my ass. A finger, then two poke in to lube up the inside as well. I have no idea what is coming, but I know your enjoyment of anal sex and large butt plugs. These are things clearly meant for your pleasure, regardless of how I feel. I get no enjoyment from anal play; it is deeply humbling to have something forced up my ass. It re-enforces my place in this relationship. He leads, and I follow.

Dave slides something modestly sized up past my sphincter. It is smaller than I expected. It is quickly followed up with the bulb for an enema. I feel the bulb inflate inside of me pump by pump, each one making sure it won’t get out until he wants it to.

He guides me over to the computer. A video was playing, showing a lady testing a dog’s shock collar on her leg. She yelps – “That was level 4. It is like being poked by something sharp.” A few seconds later, She jumps a bit. “Yow! That was level 5. That stings!” I hear laughter in the background as she calms herself. “Here is level 6. YOW! Oh my god! That hurt! As I’m starting to tear up...”

Dave pauses the video and smiles at me. “Guess what is up your ass?” My face drops. My arms reflexively pull downward to get it out, but the sheath holds them firm.

“Gaahhh!!” I jump as something pokes me in my ass.

“That was a lot of fun! You’d better be really good – I *like* doing that! And that was only level 4. This thing goes up to 16!” Dave looks like he found a new toy – zapping my ass!

“Are you my anal bitch?”

I meekly respond “Yes Sir.” Dave hits the button, and my ass gets lit up. I leap off my feet, coming down hard on the high heeled wedges.

“Louder you titsy cunt!”

I speak in a loud voice “Yes, I am your anal bitch!”

Dave shocks my ass at what must be level 6. I scream, and tears start coming from my eyes.

“Louder! And call me Sir!”

I scream “Yes Sir! I am your anal bitch!” I’m sure the neighbors are hearing me shriek through the walls.

Dave is smiling proud, finger hovering over the shock button. He gives a few minor shocks just to see me twitch and jump. I’m getting so nervous and jumpy. He calls out in a loud voice “All titsy cunts! All titsy cunts! Please lean forward!”

I quickly lean forward, bending from the waist due to the corset; I know the anal consequences if I deny being a titsy cunt. He wouldn’t hesitate to light up my ass like a Christmas tree, and we both know it.

Dave hums merrily as he arranges a leather and metal bra-contraption around my dangling breasts. It has the typical band around the back and suspenders over the shoulders, albeit in leather. The “cups”, if I could call them that, are a band of metal around the base of my boob, with three leather straps connecting to another band about 2/3 of the way up. I notice they leave full access to my nipples.

Dave asks “You know what I like about this bra? Its ability to snug right in!”

He turns a screw on the band under my left boob, and I see the band start to shrink. The more he turns, the smaller it gets, trapping the gravity-engorged flesh in its grasp. I let out a little whimper as my breast starts to throb. He starts in on the band part way up my boob, slowly shrinking it until my breast looks like an obscene melon, trying to burst forth from the bands that hold it in place. My boob is throbbing, but I know better than to complain; he still has the remote to the control device stuck up my butt.

Dave smiles, and hums merrily as he cinches up the other breast to a matched set of pornographicly bound boobs proudly bursting forth to any on-looker, as if longing for anyone’s touch.

Dave smiles. “I like that look. That desperate “please touch me” look of your breasts like that. I have something else to heighten that look”.

He guides me to stand. With every breath I take, I see my breasts heave up and down in their cages. Dave slides some barbell jewelry through my nipple piercings. He has a “cat that ate the canary” grin. I’m growing to fear that grin. He holds up a pair of small wire things, a few inches to a side. I silently look at him, wondering what they are, and where he’s going to stick them. He sets one over a nipple. It has a circular base, and a cradle that sticks out ¾ inch past the nipple. He grabs the barbell, and pulls it, stretching my nipple out from my breast like some shameless professional porno star. I cry out from the stretched feeling. “Ggaah! That hurts!” A sharp zap from my anal control module shuts up any more complaints.

I grit my teeth, and Dave sets up the other nipple just the same, a crowning glory at the tip of my obscenely supported boobs.

Dave hits a button on the remote control, and a stinging shock to my right breast makes my cry out in surprise. He quickly follows it up by a stinging shock to my left breast.

Dave starts small shocks at random times. A shock to a breast, one to my ass, another to a breast, and after a few minutes, I’m getting jumpy, not knowing when or where the next shock will come, or have any control over them. He calmly asks me a few questions as he zaps me as his whim blows him.

“So, do you like taking it up the ass?”

Truth be told, it’s all for his pleasure, and he knows it. Answering whatever he wants to hear is a lot more important. I wince through the lie. “Yes Sir! I love being taken up the ass!” I whimper through the random shocks.

He chuckles. “What a slut. And if I wanted to have my friends pound you up the ass too?

“Yes Sir. Whatever pleases you Sir!” I’m shaking from the jumpiness. My breasts are heaving against their cages from my ragged breath.

“Are you my anal bitch? My titsy cunt?”

I don’t know how much more anal punishment I can take. I start shrieking at the top of my lungs “Yes Sir! I’m a titsy cunt! I’m your titsy cunt Sir! Please don’t zap me! I’m your titsy cunt! Your anal bitch Sir!” I’m panting, a broken woman. The shocks stop.

I hear your laughter until you finally have the breath to speak. “I loved doing that! You yelling your fool head off! I’m going to love this toy!”

Dave held up a rubber gag, and I hungrily gobbled it into my mouth to prevent having to scream more humiliations. He wrapped the strap around my head, buckling it firmly in place.

Dave then pulls out a latex collar. It seems huge! He wraps it around my neck, and adjusts it into place. It goes from just above my boobs, covering my shoulders and my neck, extending over my chin, ending just below my nose and ears. He buckled it three places in back. I tried moving my neck, and felt a metal rod going from my chin down to my chest. My head wasn’t going to move until Dave thought it should.

Dave nestles something between my pussy lips, and I feel a tug down on the front of the corset, then the strap cover the lump on my sex, covers the anal plug, and gets hooked up to the rear of the corset. I stifle a groan as he cinches it in snugly. As long as he is back there, Dave cinches up the corset a bit, as not to have it get too loose. I pant into the gag as it increases pressure on the bands around my breasts.

Dave has me face away from him, and I feel the weight of an enema bag being hooked onto the back of the collar. It feels awfully heavy. That’s a lot of water he might flow into me. I hope it’s water. He’s played with things like adding a bit of lemon juice to increase cramping. He attaches the bag to the anal bulb. He doesn’t start the flow. Yet.

“Mmmwwawwff!!” I yelped as something poked me in the ass. Dave was playing with the remote again! Dave lifted up the inflatable pump to the gag. Spasm by spasm, the rubber penis inflated in my mouth. He stopped when the rubber penis was mostly engorged. I tried to seat it better, but I couldn’t fully open my mouth with the posture collar in place.

He happily hit the button again. “mmwwfff” I whimpered in response, twisting against the arm sheath. A few more pumps got the rubber penis gag into the remaining nooks and crannies of my mouth. I realized my speech was limited to humming – not a great way to discuss the virtues of a woman’s proper place in society, great literature, or anything else for that matter. Dave doesn’t want me speaking, so he eliminated any hope of my communication.

Dave started explaining. “You know, I had remote controlled cars as a kid. I had a remote controlled boat. I even had a remote controlled plane, but I never had a remote controlled wench before. When you feel a shock to your left boob, turn left. The vibrator means stop. When you feel a shock to your ass, go. Otherwise the shock will only get worse.”

I feel a shock to my ass, and I start walking. Through shocks to my boobs and my ass, he guides me around the furniture. He has me walk around the house, turning corners at his command.

I hear Dave’s voice from behind me “I think I want to have more room to play in...” A minute later, he put a robe over my body. Instead of a neck hole, my head pokes up under a veil. I can only see through a small mesh panel. It's like blinders on a horse, I have no peripheral vision. I realize he put me in a burka!

Dave shocks me in the ass to get me to go. He turns me toward the front door. My mind is screaming "But I'm not Muslim!", but all that comes out is some panting from my nose. He leads me outside, and locks the door.

Dave turns me down the crowded street. I have no idea where he is – he could be right next to me or a block behind. I follow the pulses in my breasts. Left at the corner. Right. Cross the street. Right. Left. I stop facing a reflective store window. An anonymous, faceless Muslim woman in a burka looks back at me. Another left. Right at the telephone pole. Another right. Another right. My right breast keeps jumping, as I do donuts around the telephone pole. My left breast leaps. And again. Then my right. Damnit! I’m doing friggin’ figure 8’s around street fixtures like your remote controlled toy! I realize I have no idea where I am. With the brownstone houses all looking the same, I wouldn’t recognize the flat if I was right in front of it!

You lead me down a street, and some teasing buzzing at my clit stops me at the corner. I realize I’m getting damp from the vibrator. I see a muslim woman veiled with only her eyes showing walk up. “Asalamu alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu.”

I don’t speak Arabic! It could mean “Glory to Allah, my sister.” It could mean “Your nipples are poking out!” I have no idea! I realize as I’m quite gagged and trussed up like the Thanksgiving turkey, my only choice is to keep looking straight ahead until Dave zaps me to go.


If you see a woman walk by in a burka, it might be a conservative Muslim. It might be me. Please, just let us be.