I’d been talking to him for a few months over the computer. I don't know if he ever told me his name. If so, I had long forgotten it. I now knew him only as "Master", and preferred it that way. He asked me what I wanted to be called, and I chose "Wench" - more creative than "slave", and I sure would serve him like a serving wench would. This wasn't exactly a "normal" relationship, even as dom/subs go. He was married to another woman - his "Mistress". His problem was, with their different work schedules, the few times they got to spend together, she wanted to be in control - he is a switch, and needed an escape for his dominant half. That's where I fit in.
I agreed to come over to meet them for a long weekend, but I had a few conditions:
1) Nothing living will enter me - orally, vaginally, or anally.
Toys are fine, penises are not.
2) My tongue does not enter anyone else; my finger may be allowed to.
3) Bondage is to have comfort as a high priority - I'm not into pain.
4) To that end, pain is only to be used as a correction tool;
a punishment for a wrong.
5) Any pictures will not show my face. It can be blurred, or
I can be blindfolded - I would bring a blindfold/gag harness that I would
prefer to wear for any pictures.
His Mistress had a condition - He will be locked into his CB-2000 chastity belt at all times I am present.
All three of us agreed to all of the conditions, and that proceeds from picture sales (if any) would be split up. Mistress Muff would be in charge whenever she was around. Master would be able to toy with me as allowed above. Travel plans were made. With pricing and schedules, it worked out that I would take a train from Portland to San Diego on the way there, and fly back. As I did not know what they looked like, and vice versa, we came up with a plan for them to identify me at the train station. I would put on a leg brace, forcing myself to use crutches. That, and a my description, should do a decent ID at the station. I liked to wear my leg brace, and crutch around. Call it a fetish if you will; a way to do publicly acceptable bondage. This was one more good opportunity.
The train was a red-eye express on Thursday night, from 9 PM to 6 AM. I took Friday off, and Monday was Veteran’s day. I slept some of the way, crutched around the train a bit. All in all, not a bad trip. I had a nice conversation with one guy from Boston who told me all about his experiences with a broken leg. Nice guy, but I'll never see him again. I wore a fluffy almond-colored sweater (master likes those), and a knee-length green skirt. The brace went over a pair of almond tights. Due to the heat of San Diego, I didn't wear a shirt.
I got off at the right stop, and crutched out into the crowd. A conductor was nice enough to unload my one piece of luggage. More people got off of the train. Some headed right toward the exit, others said their "hellos" to people waiting for them, and then left. I was getting concerned. There was practically nobody left, I was over a thousand miles from home, and I couldn't even carry my suitcase due to the crutches! Now there were all of 3 people within sight. One guy looked homeless, one woman was standing there, and some guy was sitting on a bench, idly watching me. If Master was waiting in the station building, or in a car at the curb (past the station), the only way I could get to him would be to abandon my suitcase!
I needed time to think, and to get off of my one good leg before I needed a medical reason for crutches. I crutched over to the guy on the bench. If nothing else, maybe he would carry my suitcase - It was about 30 yards away, and within sight. "Um. . . Hi there."
"Hi. Looks like you've had a bit of a break." He pointed to my braced leg. "Take a load off." I sat down, and he continued "So, what happened to you?"
We started chatting about what happened - I made up a story, and I think he bought it just fine, even as he asked about the details. I told him I tripped over my cat, and tumbled down the stairs. We went into how I felt about having to crutch around for all these weeks, how guys always look at the "Chicks on sticks", and then he surprised me. "OK Pat. Let's go."
I must have had a dumbfounded expression. This guy knows my name? He's the guy I came to meet? He just sat there, watched me lie my ass off about an accident I never had, knowing it the whole time? He watched me sweat out whether or not he was showing up for half an hour, when he was never more than 30 yards away? That bastard! He. . . He. . . He was in charge, and I was never in danger. He took care of me.
I shook my head in disbelief of his stunt. Master was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "I guess I'll carry your bag *this* time."
"Thank you master." We headed off to his car. We had an agreement. I should always call him 'master', but had the option to drop it when others might get offended. Nobody was within earshot - 'master' was required. As we got into the van, he handed me a pair of wrap-around sun-glasses. I put them on. They had been painted black on the inside. While some light peeked in around the edges, essentially, I was blindfolded. He drove off.
We started chatting about how the train ride was, things we wanted to do on the trip, how things where going where we worked - he worked as a tech for some manufacturing firm. After about half an hour, he pulled into a driveway, and announced, "Here we are! You can take off the sunglasses." In all honesty, I didn't even know which city or town we were in. It turns out he lived in a nice, non-descript, suburban home. Master got my bag, and I crutched inside following him. He closed the door behind me, and said, "Wench, take off the brace. While you're at it, your skirt too." It was clear the journey was over, the servitude just beginning.
"Yes, master. It would be my pleasure to obey your every command. I will do whatever you want me to; to follow your every whim." By this time, the brace was off, and my skirt was on the floor. I continued my monologue anyway. "If you need anything, you need but ask, and. . ."
A stern look from Master shut me up. He looked past me to the front door, and back to me. Then to the door, then to me. I didn't know if he was threatening to kick me out if I didn't shut up? I turned around, and looked at the back of the front door.
There was something hanging on the back - a canvas straitjacket. "Would you like me to wear it, master?" He nodded yes. I picked it up off the hook. "As you wish." I put it on as best I could. He started to buckle up the back.
While he was doing that, I put both of my arms through the loop in the front of the jacket. I saw that when I was restrained, loop was one strap. It started at the base of my breasts, went over my elbows, threaded through a loop on the jacket, and then would go through the crotch to meet in back. As Master tightened the straps at the tips of the sleeves, trapping my arms in place, I realized a few things about this jacket - My arms were presenting my breasts to anyone who was looking, acting like a frame and a shelf. If I tugged with my arms, the loop going right by my privates would be taking the tug.
As if on queue, Master took the crotch strap from between my legs, and threaded it through the buckle. Once that was snug, he went back to the buckles holding the jacket closed, and snugged up each one, removing any slack that had accumulated in later tightening. Then the arms. He unbuckled the crotch-strap, and stopped. I turned my neck to face him, and he stood there grinning like a Cheshire cat again. He started to tighten the crotch-strap. It easily dug into my tights, and slipped into the natural folds of my flesh. He continued to tighten it, pulling slowly with both hands. I lifted up on tip-toe to lessen the pressure. Master followed, still slowly tightening it.
I was getting concerned. "Oh! Master? Master? Please! Please! It's tight already!"
He held the same pressure, and smiled. "Oh? Should I stop to gag you, or should I continue tightening?"
There was no good answer for that, but I sure didn't want the strap any tighter! "Gag please."
"I don't know. I'm thinking you could go another notch or three. . ."
I was getting desperate. "Master? May I please be gagged instead? Please? I’d *really* like to wear a gag to make you happy. Whichever gag you would like Master! Please?"
Master gave the strap a final tug, and fastened it right there. "Very well, wench, you shall be gagged. Stay here." He turned, and walked up the stairs. I knelt, to be more visually pleasing upon his return.
He came back after only a minute or two, and stopped momentarily to enjoy the sight of a bound woman just inside his doorway.
He held up the leather contraption up to my head. I saw straps, buckles, and a few bulbous things. I was expecting a ball gag, not a marvel of engineering!
He put the gag in my mouth - it was a small rubber thing; sure to inflate. One strap went from each side, buckling around the back of my head. Another went from one cheek, under the chin, back up to the other cheek, holding my mouth shut. This one was buckled loosely. One more went from each cheek, joining between my eyes, and went over the top of my head to join the "round the head" strap in back. With everything in place, he put the squeeze bulb in, and started to inflate the gag. It filled my mouth fully, pushing in all directions. With the chin strap on, my mouth was open only about 1/2 inch, but I couldn't open it further or shut it - all was secure. He disconnected the squeeze bulb, and smiled. "Just one more thing - the cap to your gag."
He held up a dildo made of hot pink rubber for me to see. I felt quite humiliated as he screwed it into the gag. There was no way it was going to fall off, and I couldn't knock it off either. He must have noticed my humiliation, as he commented. "Just what every dignified woman needs - a hot pink dildo coming out of her mouth.”
He took a leash, attached it to the crotch-strap where it ran over my arms, and took me on a tour of the house. I walked very gingerly due to the crotch-strap, and dutifully followed Master wherever he lead me. He took me on a brief tour of the house. It was a typical 3 bedroom ranch style house. I felt quite surreal being given a tour of a house while gagged and straitjacketed. At one point, I saw a reflection of myself in the bathroom mirror. I was staring at the 7" hot pick penis sticking out of my mouth. "How can anyone be seen as anything but a slut wearing something like this? It totally degrades. ." A quick tug from the leash to the crotch strap tore me out of my reverie and back to dutifully following my master.
The tour stopped in a normal-looking bedroom. Normal at first glance that is. There were some differences if you looked for them. There was no door in the doorway - I would have no privacy. The ceiling fan looked a lot more sturdy than most. I knew I would find out why during my visit.
o0o
Master turned to me and smiled. “You look pretty, wench. I think we should get something to remember this by.” He pulled out a digital camera. My eyes bugged wide. All the time I was talking to him, the idea of posing for erotic photos seemed so sexy. Now faced with the reality, I was frightened. My mind slipped into overdrive. What if he sends them to my friends? To my boss? To my mom! He could post these pictures all over the net, with them forever multiplying! Is this how I want to be remembered? Tightly tied into a straitjacket with a pink dildo sticking out of my mouth?
Suddenly, like a warm comforting wave, realizations washed over me. I had put my emotions, my body, and my well-being at the mercy of this man, my master. I had to trust him; to have faith in him. And was being an amateur bondage model erotic? By the bulge in his pants and the smile on his face, he sure thought so! Besides, I realized that I have no choice. I started posing. After he had taken a few shots of my predicament (including one in front of a mirror), it dawned on me. I wouldn’t be able to gauge Master’s feeling by his crotch bulge – it was all locked up! Him being a prisoner in his own right made me safer in a way. I smiled behind the phallic gag.
He led me back downstairs. “I think it’s time for lunch. Now normally, of course, you would be doing the cooking. However, considering your present predicament, I think we can make an exception this one time.” As he was saying this, he led me to the side of the staircase, and pulled my lead between some of the high railing posts! He then circled around, so that he was on the stairs, most of the way up to the next floor. I was down below, with the lead threaded high up. He started slowly pulling upwards, pulling more and more on my crotch. I rose up to tip-toe, and Master smiled, pulling a bit more. I lifted up as high as I could. When it was snug again, Master tied off the lead.
Master went back to the kitchen. I heard an electric can-opener, and then a few minutes later, the microwave started. Master came back, and sat on the steps in front of my face. “You know, you look good like that. You should be dressed like this more often!”
He started playing a bit on the taut lead, pulling the crotch strap more and more – I couldn’t lift myself up any higher! I think it amused him to have a lady tied here at his every whim. I was sure hoping that lunch would be ready soon – not only was I hungry, but I also wanted the gag out! Just then, I heard the “ding!” of the microwave, and Master asked “You’re breathing OK?” I nodded yes, and he headed off to get lunch.
He came back with two bowls of soup. It smelled wonderful. He got back on the stairs, and set the bowl in front of my gagged face. “Dig in while it’s hot!”
I was gagged! There was no way I could eat like this! I was only 6 inches away from it, and yet I was helpless to eat! As Master leisurely ate his soup, he taunted me more. “Not going to have any? You must be on a diet. Too bad, it really is quite tasty!” “Don’t just stand there, eat! Soup is good food!” All I could do was look up at him with pleading eyes.
Once he was done with his bowl, he returned to the kitchen, my bowl still full, still right in front of my face. He returned with a funnel and a tube. He hooked the tube into the front of the gag, and said “Ready?” I nodded, and soup started to flow. I’d never tried eating while gagged before. I needed a few breaks to catch my breath, but the soup was quite good. He tied the empty funnel up to something to keep it suspended, and took a few more pictures “for posterity sake, of course”. He then released my lead from the opposite railing. I realized that with the soup and the tight crotch strap, I had to use the bathroom. “Mmmppphhh!”
“What?”
How was I going to tell him without being able to point or speak? I tried pointing toward my crotch with the dildo stuck in my mouth.
Master’s eyes brightened up. “Oh! This ought to be good. Come do your charades in the living room.” He scurried into the living room, sat down, and expectantly looked at me. I tried pointing again with my dildoed mouth at my crotch. He guessed “You want to have sex?”
I shook my head no, and tried to imitate the pee-pee dance. He guessed again. “You’re running. Tip-toeing. In hurry.”
I shook my head no, and sat down on a chair with a moan of satisfaction. “Back on your feet, wench! I’m enjoying this!”
I got back up, and thought for a moment. I was getting antsy. I turned my back to him, leaned over, stuck my butt out, and gave another moan of satisfaction. He seemed a bit confused. “The crotch-strap is too tight? You want something up your butt?” That might be the closest I was going to get. At that, I turned around, and moaned a “come on” kind of hum. “You want a big butt-plug?” I shook my head no, and repeated bending over, and moaning in satisfaction. “You need to use the bathroom?”
I quickly turned around, and nodded “Yes!”
Master laughed. “OK. Come on.” He led me to the bathroom, and took off the horribly tight crotch strap. He stood there watching. Having an audience while peeing – such is the price for being a wench. I sat down, and let loose. I was told beforehand that I would have no privacy, but when you actually experience it, it gives a whole new dimension.
When I was done, Master took off the gag, and gave me a kiss on the lips. “Wench – you are to speak only when spoken to. Any other time is subject to a punishment at my whim. I want answers like ‘Yes, master’ or ‘no, master.’ Do you understand?”
“Yes Master.”
He took off the straitjacket, and said “Take a shower, and braid your hair. Come to me nude when you’re done.”
I took a luxurious shower – Master even had the different nozzle heads, glycerin soaps, and the whole bit to pamper a lady. I guess it must be for Mistress Muff, but I enjoyed it. After carefully drying off and braiding my long hair, I made my way downstairs.
He came over to me, with something hidden behind his back. I looked at him suspiciously. Something was up. He pulled a box from behind his back - roughly a one foot cube, with gift wrap all over it. "I wanted you to have this, to thank you for coming."
I patted and caressed his caged penis. "I think you’d just love coming. . .”
He immediately started to grind his caged penis into my hand, desperate for relief. His eyes glazed over. The moans started. I continued lightly rubbing his penis through his pants and the ever-present CB-2000 for a few minutes. As he started to tremble, I quickly took my hand away. "So. What's in the box?" I ripped open the wrapping paper.
Master wasn't done with the penis play. He bucked wildly against the open air, staring at me and blabbering "Blaa aahh mahhh". Clearly, his blood flow was going to his lower head - he didn't have control of speech; he was still in moaning mode. I felt no guilt at all – if Mistress Muff wanted to allow him an orgasm, he wouldn’t have been caged. I opened the gift box. Inside was a tall rigid collar, like those prescribed to people with whiplash. It looked wonderfully comfortable and immobilizing. This one had an inflatable bladder on the bottom, where it would cover the shoulders, and top of the neck and back. The bladder was presently uninflated. I sized this wonderful gift against the front of my neck. It was clearly too tall, and there were no adjustments. I turned to face him, wondering how to tell him that I loved it, but it just didn't fit. He was grinning ear to ear. "Perfect! Come on, let's try it on you!" He motioned me to follow, and walked into the bedroom. I was thoroughly confused, but followed anyway. "Yes, Master."
As I entered, he held up handcuffs. I smiled, turned my back toward him, and presented my hands. "My well trained wench." he said as he locked my wrists in place. I turned back to face him, and he held out my blindfold/gag harness. Well, well, well. I guess he wanted some pictures of me wearing the collar too!
First the blindfold was put in, and that strap was buckled. I opened my mouth to remind him - the gag goes next. He put in the gag, and I lifted my head - the chin strap goes next. He cinched it up pretty well, and I turned around for the around the head gag strap. It too got cinched. I turned back around (give or take with the blindfold) and bent over to allow him better access to the strap on top of my head. That too got buckled. Master moved my head as he needed as he went through the sequence again to make sure everything was nice and snug. I like that about him. "Good?" He asked.
"mmmmm hhhmmm” I nodded yes.
He maneuvered me around a bit - I was now lost in the house. I felt a rope being attached to the D ring on the top of the harness, and it started to pull up. My neck and back stretched. Just as my heels left the floor, he stopped pulling.
"I'll be around. Call if you need me." I couldn't tell if he left or not. After a few minutes, I tried squirming a bit. There was no way I could do anything like this - my hands were cuffed behind me, and a lot of my weight was being supported by my head - which I sure couldn't reach! A few minutes later, I thought I heard a page turn, like Master was reading a book. Then again, it could have been anything.
I don't know how long he let me hang there. Eventually, I felt a collar going around my neck. I could only guess it was the one he gave me as a gift. The collar fit! I guess that hanging there had stretched my neck enough! After another minute or two (I guess for pictures), the rope holding me to the ceiling was loosened, and I dropped back down onto my heels.
Master unlocked the handcuffs, and said "Show off for the camera, WENCH!" I loved it when he stressed "wench" like that. I started posing, showing off my breasts, and running my hands along the collar that stopped all movement in my neck.
After a few minutes of humiliating myself for the camera, he took off the gag/blindfold. "How do you like your new collar?"
"Master! I like it a lot! It is very comfortable, and I can't move my head at all! Thank you master!" I was smiling.
"Good. Take it off, wench."
I was disappointed - I wanted to keep wearing it, but knew better than to disobey. He has punishments that only he enjoys. I reached around the back of the collar, and felt the seam. There were six or so interlocking teeth. I tried prying it apart, feeling for a release mechanism, whatever. I tugged at it, to no avail. I looked up at him questioningly.
"Well wench?"
"Master, I can't find the release. Can you please instruct your lowly wench?"
He just smiled. "Wench? The weight of your head is holding it shut. That's right - the only way it's coming off is for someone to hold some of your weight from the ceiling for about half an hour. Now here's the kicker. . ." He held up a bite plate – it looked like part of football gear to go between your teeth. He put it in, and it fit snugly between my teeth. He lifted up an inflator bulb, and plugged it into the front of the neck brace, and started to inflate the bladder at the bottom. I felt the height of the brace increase, prying my neck up. He gave it about 5 pumps, and then removed the inflator bulb. The bladder stayed inflated. The pressure pushing up on the bottom of my chin was so much; I couldn't even open my mouth!
"So, what do you think about it now?"
"Rrr rrr rrrrr rrrrrr. Mmmm." I couldn't shrug my shoulders, nod my head, or make any sounds except "r" or m"! How was I supposed to answer? After a few seconds, I gave him a thumbs up.
"Good. Now wench, you need to get dressed. We're going shopping!"
Once again, my mind went into overdrive. "Shopping? Oh god! I can't move my neck, talk, shrug my shoulders, and he wants to take me shopping? What is he. . ." A quick slap on the ass got me out of my thoughts and into action.
We went up to "my" room, and Master deflated the brace. The first item I was to put on was a pair of high-waisted rubber panties. Master had "thoughtfully" gotten them with a modest butt-plug and dildo already attached. I picked it up, and it was not what I had expected. It was two layers - one outer layer, one inner layer, with some sort of liquid between the two of them, and the panties were cold.
"Come on wench, I want to watch you put these on. And do it quick!" I lubed up both invaders, and carefully slid the panties on, struggling to get them into place. I gritted my teeth as the cold invaders made their way inside of my privates. He next handed me something that I will always treasure - a stainless steel chastity belt. I’d wanted one for a long time, but always lacked the cash. "Oh Master! Thank you Master!"
"I'm giving you the belt. I'll keep the key for a while. Try it on."
The front of the belt was a solid piece of metal. It had a hinge at each hip, and fastened in back. From the front, a hinge attached to a groin section. It was wide at the top and narrowed down to a metal cable where it went up the back. The cable had a tip that plugged into the lock in back. I put it on over the panties, and struggled to get it all locked. "They sure are tight Master."
He burst out laughing. I wondered what I had just put on. Right after the lock clicked closed, he explained. "These panties are special - the gel inside was a failed development for a freon replacement. Parts of it boil at 75 degrees."
"Boil? I'm going to get burned by these panties?"
"No you silly. I took these out of the fridge. It's still below your body temperature. But as you heat it up, it expands to three times its normal volume. The chastity belt will not expand. It will thus slowly compress your groin, and inflate both the dildo. . ." He felt my front "And the butt-plug, making them huge inside of you. Bit by bit, they will grow from your heat. Of course, with the increased pressure, the resulting size might not be three times. I guess we’ll both just have to find out!"
It sank in - I was going to have invaders enlarging inside of me. I couldn't do a thing about it.
The next item was a lift-up bra, with water-filled cups to enhance the bust a size or two. I looked again. Two cup sizes, easily. It went on; giving me boobs that Dolly Parton would be proud of. He then picked up a clear bag of water, maybe half a gallon, and some connected tubing, and gave me a proud grin that I was beginning to dread. He hooked the top up to the back of my collar, and plugged a tube into the butt-plug of the panties. The bag was sitting right behind my shoulder blades. There was a valve at the small of my back. I didn't have to be told - if the valve was turned, the enema would flow, and it wasn't coming out until Master wanted it to.
The last item was a denim dress, surprisingly plain. As I put it on, I realized why he picked it - it was a fitted ankle length skirt, without a slit. My stride would thus be limited to only about 18 inches. The top of it was snug, forcing my new-found bust to look like it was forcing its own way out, and it was cut to have a brilliant display of my cleavage. With the push-up padded bra, it looked like I had a whole lot to offer in that department and it was all on display.
With Master following, urging me forward, I minced my way out to the car. Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?
I got in the car, making sure not to lean back and put too much pressure on the enema bag. Squirming also just made the butt-plug seem to dig its way in deeper and deeper. Then again, it could be that the plug was growing from my heat. I sat as still as I could, always looking straight ahead due to the neck brace, and was continually amazed at the feel of metal locked over the crotch. Master pointed to a large cup of water sitting in the cup holder. “Drink all you can. You may be thankful for it later.” Needless to say, he would tell no more on the subject. The trip to the mall went surprisingly quick.
As we pulled up, it hit me - it was Friday evening. The mall was going to be packed with, among others, pubescent teens! And I look like some guy's wet dream!
He pulled up right to the door. "Stay here. I'll park the car, and meet up with you. OK?" After I agreed, he said "Oh! One more thing!" He quickly pushed a wadded pair of my own panties into my mouth, and then started pumping up the neck brace, forcing my chin into traction.
"MMpphhh!!!" I protested, but it was too late. He disconnected the pump. "MM mmm mmpphh!!" Now I understood why I drank so much.
"Here is a pen and a notepad. If anyone wants to talk, be verbose. I’ll enjoy reading it later. Bye bye WENCH!"
o0o
I got out, and watched him drive around a corner of the mall to park. I sure hoped I wouldn't be there too long!
As soon as he turned the corner, someone came up to me. “You haven’t seen the Main Street bus go by, have you?”
What was I going to do? I couldn’t mumble through my panties! I couldn’t even nod my head yes or no! I fumbled out the pad, and went to the wall, and started writing.
“No, I haven’t seen the Main Street bus, but I have only been here about 15 seconds.”
“Oh. What happened to your neck?”
I realized that telling her that my Master locked it on me to humiliate me in public might not be QUITE what she wanted to hear. I used the good faithful story – “I tripped over my cat while going down the stairs. The doctors said that I tore some tendons and ligaments. They gave me a choice – 2 weeks in full bed traction, or 4-6 weeks in this brace. I chose the brace.”
“It must be very hard for you to go around without turning your head. How long has it been?” Just as she said that, I spotted a teen-aged guy hanging out by the doors. He spotted me, and his eyes were transfixed on my over-sized boobs. What could I do? I kept writing, giving the teen an eyeful. “It’s only been 2 days – I have at least 4 more weeks to go. At least I can get up and walk around though!
I saw the teen nudge his friend and point in my direction. I’m sure he said something to the effect of “Hey! Check out the knockers on THAT one! Now I had a foursome staring at me, making comments to each other. The conversation went on for another minute or two before the Main Street bus showed up. The teens didn’t get on, and were by the door. It was hot out here, and air conditioned inside. I had to get by them. I minced my way up to them. One of them approached, and started talking to me in a falsely extremely polite voice. “Oh, excuse me miss?” Following my master’s wishes, I stopped to write down a reply, thinking “If these kids knew that I was gagged with one of my own panties, I would just die! I wrote out “Yes, can I help you?”
“I ah, couldn’t help but notice your brace. Might I inquire as to what happened?” I could tell he was being overly polite for a reason – buy time for him and his buddies to “check out my rack”. I flipped to the same page as before, and let him read what I wrote. Then one of his buddies had to read it. Then the other two.
The discussion continued, as slow as they could make it, until their bus also finally came. I went indoors (finally!). Master was sitting on a bench watching me, quite amused. He asked for the notepad, and started reading it.
“I enjoyed watching you fidgeting out there. I figure by now the two bulbs are getting larger inside of you.” He continued reading what I wrote. Oh my! I didn’t notice myself fidgeting! Was it that obvious?
“You told them both the same story?” He handed the pad back for my reply.
I wrote down “Yes. The story is easy to remember, and I know all of the details.”
“It stifles creativity, and limits your writing. You will tell each group that asks a totally different story. At some point today, you will tell someone that it was a sex accident.”
It sank in. I would have to tell someone today, while gagged with my own panties, that I broke my neck while having sex! What have I gotten myself into?
Just then I gasped as I felt the dildo creep deeper inside of me.
Master smiled. “That must have been the growing dildos. I just like knowing that you’re the one making them grow, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it! How does it feel, Wench?”
I wrote “They feel quite large, but I know that they will get unbearable by the time they are done! How long will they stay in?”
“As long as my whim says they will.”
I grimaced, and we continued on. He told me that I should lead. I was never sure if he was 3 feet behind or 40 feet behind me. I knew people were staring at me. Some people stopped to ask me about my “injury”. I made up different stories each time. One was a car accident. Another was recent neck surgery. Yet another was a degenerative spinal disease.
Finally, Master came up next to me, and said we should take a break on a bench in the mall. I was grateful for knowing I had company. He already had a big cup of 7-up. I was glad for that too – after having panties in my mouth for so long, my mouth was getting so dry! Although Master didn’t decrease the pressure on my neck brace, I found that I could still drink around the gag.
As we sat, I saw a bunch of teen-aged guys just hanging around the mall. I wrote to Master “Why do guys like that just hang around? Don’t they have somewhere better to go?”
He smiled. “You’re going to go up there and talk to them. As a matter of fact, they will be the ones to which you say your neck is due to a sex accident. Go, wench.”
I dutifully went up to the four teens. I wrote down “Excuse me. Do you know when bus 64 comes by here?”
“Uh . . . no. We got a ride. What happened to your neck?”
I blushed as I wrote. “I was trying to satisfy my boyfriend, and it worked better than I thought.”
I showed it to them, and they looked confused. “You mean you two were having sex?”
“I went down on him, but when he came, he knocked me back, and I hit my neck on the dresser.”
When they read that, all of their eyes just popped out of their head. “Oh my god! Why didn’t you grab on to something?”
“I was handcuffed”
“Oh my god! Your boyfriend handcuffed your hands, you sucked his cock, and when he came, he broke your neck?”
I would have hung my head if I could. With the brace on, I had no such choice; it was held proudly up high. I continued writing. “Yes, but it was an accident.”
One of the guys said “Yow! If something like that happened to me, I would have lied about it; said that it was a car accident or something!” I smiled to myself; I was lying about it now, and I lied about it being a car accident before! He continued. “Why are you actually telling us this?”
I told the truth, half of the truth, and nothing but half of the truth. “Because my boyfriend told me to.”
Just then a car beeped just outside of one of the doors. One of the guys looked up. “Oh damn! Our ride is here! You are one hot chick babe!” Much to my relief, they went to hop in the car, and I returned to Master – mission accomplished.
Master read through what I had written, and his eyes kind of glazed over – he was clearly excited. “And how did you feel, telling them that you were handcuffed and sucking me?” I could tell by the waver in his voice that he would really, really want that to happen, but alas, his penis was trapped in a plastic cage – it was not to be. “I felt humiliated. I felt . . . put in my place Master.”
“Good. You performed well. For the next trip, I think that we should allow you the ability to talk.” He hooked up the bulb, and deflated the brace. Although my head was still held high, at least I had the room to open my mouth. I discretely took out the wadded up panty gag, and slid that into my purse. I saw that there were other things in there, but dared not to look.
“You are going to go shoe shopping. Go to 5 different stores, and get the highest heels that they have – with ankle straps.”
I picked up the pad to write, and then remembered – I can talk! “You want me to get 5 pairs of heels?”
“No, just the highest heels out of those 5 stores. I’ll be with you, but you do the talking.”
We went to different stores. Master had me try on at least two pair per store, and try to strut around for his amusement. Not only am I not used to heels over 3”, but I couldn’t even look down to keep my balance. I sure was teetering! The shoes all had very pointy toes. As all of my weight was sliding into the toes, they were aching from just the few yards of teetering. Finally he decided on which ones I should get. They had a towering 6 1/2” heel. With my small feet, they really felt tall! Two ankle straps went around each ankle, firmly holding them in. He whispered to buy them, and wear them out of the store.
“I’ll take them.”
“Pack them up?”
I don’t know what made me say it. Maybe it was the dread of teetering through the mall on these horribly sized heels, dressed like a sex object. “Yes, I’ll just wear my old ones home, pack these up.”
Master calmly put his hand at the small of my back and turned the enema valve. My eyes went wide as the water filled my bowels, making my belly protrude like I was getting pregnant – fast! I hoped the gurgling wasn’t quite as audible to everyone else as it was to me.
“Are you OK?” asked the attendant.
“Um. Yeah. I guess I’m just hungry. That’s all.” I replied. In actuality, I felt more full now then I’ve ever felt!
“Yes, we will just have to go to the food court and get you something.” Master was “kindly” rubbing my back, in actuality, forcing all of the water out of the bag into me! Master had me pay for the shoes, and we walked out. I felt like I was waddling with the 2 quarts of water up my butt.
“Since you’re so hungry, I guess we need to go to the food court.” I was glad the court was nearby.
Master ordered lunch, while I stood nearby. I started feeling some cramps as my bowels fruitlessly tried to expel the enema. Finally Master got his food and sat down. I realized that standing all the time in the food court would be quite conspicuous, but the butt-plug and enema already felt huge! I gingerly sat down. Sitting down only made it worse. The cramps only got worse. “Master? May I please expel the enema?”
“I don’t think you’re quite asking for the right thing.”
The cramping kept getting worse. “OK, I’ll put the shoes on. Then may I expel the enema? I’m cramping up down there.”
He just kept eating. “You can put the shoes on only after I give you permission.”
After a few minutes of worsening cramps, I was wobbling back and forth, like a sitting version of the pee-pee dance. I was desperate. “Master? May I please wear my new shoes? Please? I really want them on. I’m sure you’ll enjoy seeing me in them. Please master?”
He gave me a key to the belt. “You can expel the enema, and take off the bag. Since I don’t think you’ll be able to get the butt-plug back in at its present size, you’ll find a replacement in your purse. As there isn’t any lubricant, you may find it easier to get a slab of butter from the place that sells those filled potatoes. Oh, and specifically ask for un-salted butter, unless you’re feeling particularly ambitious.”
I hurried off. I was glad that there was only one person in front of me in line, as I was wobbling quite a lot from the enormous discomfort down in my bowels. I quickly got the sweet (un-salted) butter; I was not feeling particularly “ambitious”, I was feeling like I had to go to the bathroom bad! I hurried off to the ladies room.
As soon as I unlocked the belt, I held onto the rubber panties. The enema released with a “Whoosh”, expelling the plug from my butt with the force. It seemed to turn my butt into a waterfall, making all sorts of splashing noises as they hit the toilet. My bowels made rude noises like I’d never heard before.
After what seemed like a long time, it was finally all out. I smeared the butter around the inside of my butt. Butter – it was not KY that I was smearing, but butter. The thought humiliated me. I opened my purse. I was quite relieved when I saw the modest size of the plug – my butt was already sore! I smeared the rest of the butter on the plug, and slid it home. I looked at the panties that I had taken off in disbelief. That actually FIT inside of me? Those things are enormous! I was so glad that I was not expected to put it back in! I put the belt and panties into the purse.
I put those dreaded shoes back on. I have small feet – the 6” heels looked absolutely enormous next to them. Walking would be a problem. My toes felt crammed into the pointed toes, and all of my weight was pushing them harder. I went out to face the in-evitable, and my Master.
o0o
I met Master, and we started off through the mall. I was surprised at the “click-clack” of the heels! It sounded like they were echoing off the walls! Were these tap shoes or something? I felt like everyone was staring at me; the sex object being practically led by this guy. We had gone only about a minute when I heard an “Urp!” coming out of my bowels. “Sorry” I muttered. Master seemed amused, and pulled out the pump for the neck brace. He calmly put it in, and pumped it back up.
“Wench, you are to go shopping for adult diapers. Buy a pack.”
“Yes master.” I wrote, dreading what ideas he would come up with for the diapers. It would mean I could be in bondage for a long, long time!
I quickly found the store, CVS. Looking down the aisle, I spotted the diapers on the bottom shelf, and went to check the size, brand, or whatever information is on them. I squatted down. “Urp!” went my butt again. People looked my way. Even squatting, I couldn’t see the brand or anything! I started feeling around blindly for the products. The first one was for babies. Oops. Wrong stuff.
“Do you need some help?”
I went to turn my head to see who was talking. With the neck brace on, nothing happened. I stood up on the towering heels, and turned around. There was a young female shopper, about 25 or so, who must have been shopping for pads.
I got out the pad and paper. “Yes. I’m looking for diapers.”
She reached down to pull out two packs to show them to me. “Luvs? Huggies? Do you have a preference? How old is the wee one?”
I would have hung my head, but the brace had me standing proudly. “They’re for me.”
“Oh my god!” She put her hand to her mouth and backed away. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize!”
I wrote out in large letters, so that she could still read it from her distance. “No. It’s OK. Really.”
“OK. Um. . . which ones do you want?”
“I don’t know – I’m as new at this as you are.”
“What happened?”
“Car accident. I was hit by a drunk driver. Cracked my spine.” I pointed to the neck brace.
“That’s too bad. And the. . . “ She looked down at one of the adult diaper packages. “Incontinence?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“For the neck brace? About 6 more weeks before I can get to a less restrictive brace if everything goes well. If not, it might as well be permanent.”
Her eyes nearly bugged out. “Permanent?”
“They said they may need to do a fusion – merge the bones together. It would be as immobilizing as this brace, and permanent“ I wrote. “Grrrllll Slorp!” went my bowels.
“Uh. I guess you need these quick! These say they are for “large adult”
“Thanks.” I wrote back. I was kind of doing the pee-pee dance as I took them and went to the cashier. I couldn’t look, but I’m sure the lady’s eyes followed me out.
I quickly paid for them, and Master met me at the exit. “Take them out of the bag. Carry them to the ladies room, put them on, and then we can go.”
I handed the bag to Master. Now everyone saw what I was holding; no secrets. I minced to the ladies room. I didn’t look anyone in the face. For once, I was glad that I had the collar on – I know that people stared at the diapers that I was holding, and I didn’t want to see them doing it. When I got to the bathroom, I opened up the package. Putting them on was odd, as I was doing it by feel only. I put on the 3 tapes on each side, and put my dress back on. I took a step inside the stall. It might be my imagination, but I thought I could hear the diapers. I felt down. They were huge!
I teetered out of the ladies room. Master was there. We started walking to the car. I was very conscious of the different sound and feeling of padding around my crotch. It might have been nerves, but I thought that everyone else must have known that I was in a diaper too! Just during our walk to the car, I had to go. I knew there was no hiding. I stopped walking for a moment, and another little bit of enema leaked out. We got to the car, and the trip home was odd – I had to let out yet another pint of enema. I just let loose. When we got home, Master immediately put me in the head harness. Blinded and gagged, I was lead to the traction again. I stood there, not knowing what was coming. I waited. And waited. After about half an hour, I felt Master take off the neck brace.
“Take a nice LONG shower to get all cleaned up. Inside and out”. I happily complied.
Master met me right after the shower. He had a different chastity belt in his hand, and showed it to me. There were a few changes to this one. There was a big hole in the front, lined up with my vagina. It seemed to defeat the whole purpose of the belt! The other change was the addition of thigh bands - two bands of neoprene-coated steel would wrap around my thighs, just above my knees. They were connected to the waist portion by flat ribbon-like cable that went up the outside of my thighs. There was a chain that went between the thigh bands, limiting my gait to about a foot. I dutifully put on his latest creation, and playfully modeled it for him, even dipping a finger into the large hole in the front. Master said, "You'll be getting lots where that came from." He picked up a 10" long smooth dildo with a rod attached to it, and approached. I was scared just looking at the thing!
Master carefully slid the dildo up my hole, but only about 4" deep. He attached the rod to the chain between my knees, along with a weight. I stood there, waiting for something cruel to happen to torment me. Nothing came. He took my left hand, put on a leather thumbless mitten, and put it behind my back. Quickly, a rope went from my left wrist, around my body, and he tied it off to a manacle that he put on my left elbow. One arm was secured. "OK. Time for you to make dinner, wench. Chicken, peas, tater tots, and some garlic bread. White wine with Muff's meal, some juice for myself."
This seemed easy enough. I could do it with one arm tied behind my back! I took a step toward the kitchen. As the chain went taut, the rod went up, pushing the dildo 8" deep! I let out a gasp. I put my legs together. The weight pulled the dildo out to only 2" deep. I was going to be fucked with every step! The bastard! On the next step, I tried to hold the dildo in, but it was too smooth, the weight pulled it out anyway. Master smiled as I sexed myself into the kitchen. As I was cooking, Master came up and wrapped a skirt around me. Twenty seconds later, Mistress Muff came in the door. I went to set the table. Silverware was one trip. Plates were another. Glasses had to be taken one at a time. I only had one hand! Master just watched as I neared orgasm on every trip. Next trip for juice. Next trip for wine. Mistress Muff and master made small talk.
Finally dinner was cooked. While carrying the peas, I almost lost it, and came close to spilling the peas. Two more trips later, and they were finally eating.
Master started up. "Wench. This chicken isn't cooked enough. Put it in the microwave for another minute." I complied, and gave him back his meal with deep apologies.
"Wench, salt!"
I returned from the kitchen, and gave the salt to Master.
He snapped his fingers. "Wench! Bring me pepper!"
I gave a quick whimper, but quickly went to comply. I strutted out to the kitchen, and retrieved the pepper - it had been right next to the salt. Master wanted to have me make the most trips.
Mistress Muff had pity on me. "You've made a fine dinner. Kneel at my feet, sit back on your heels, and spread your legs."
"Forgive me Mistress. I can't."
Mistress shot a glance across to Master, who smiled. She said, "You’d better explain yourself wench."
"Master locked this devious device on me." I took off my skirt to show her. "As I walk, these chains are making the dildo go in and out with every step! It's maddening!"
"I like it. Walk around the table wench."
I took a tour of the table, as Master and Mistress watched the dildo go in and out of my privates. As I completed the lap, Mistress gave her judgment. "I like it. Wench, take off your skirt, and keep walking. It amuses me."
Humiliated, I started my endless torment for their amusement. Shortly thereafter, my one hand was released. I think it amused them to see me pulling and tugging at the belt, hoping for an orgasm, yet continually denied. They commented on the juices flowing down my leg. I continued my tour, being forced to stop and re-gain my balance a few times as pre-orgasm shudders rocked my body. As I stopped, the dildo stopped, and I just couldn't seem to go over the edge!
Finally, dinner was done. I was horribly frustrated, moaning to Mistress for relief on every pass. I think she was amused. She stood up. "OK wench, you've behaved - I'll take pity on you. Come here, and turn around." I gratefully came, and presented my back to her.
In return, she grabbed my wrists, and pulled them up into some kind of a leather pocket or sheath! It extended from my elbows up to my armpits. My arms were held wrist to the opposite elbow behind my back! Master helped out, grabbing the two straps from the upper corners. They came over my shoulders, and crossed in front, nicely framing my breasts. From there they went to two rings on the lower corners, and turned back in front, where they were buckled together. Mistress smiled. This could only end badly for me. She pulled out a set of fierce-looking nipple clamps. I only cringed. I knew I had no choice. I finally grasped up the courage, and thrust out my breasts for the un-avoidable bite. Mistress was pleased. She grasped my nipples with both hands, rolling them until they rose from semi-hard to full hardness. Then . . . blackness. Master had snuck up behind me and pulled a blindfold over my eyes!
The bites on my nipples were simultaneous, just after being disoriented by the blindfold. A quick tug on my nipples forced me on. OW! The dildo pumped in and out. Was she going to take me on a tour of the house like this?? I was getting rather lubricated down below, yet the piston went with every step. I was getting very excited. I started to get weak in the knees. YOW! The pull from my nipples still urged me on! Yet. . . Did I just feel hands on my hips as I stumbled? With the sensory overload, I couldn't tell. Around and around the house I was led. The orgasm was forever building. Finally, like a mass of water breaking a dam, it burst forth. I stumbled and fell in orgasmic bliss as two large hands easily caught me, and broke my fall. My legs stopped moving, but the dildo kept going! In and out! Oh my GOD! I came, screaming like a wild banshee. I was hugged and caressed by four unseen hands, wallowing in the post-orgasmic glow. Finally, Master lifted me up, and physically carried me off to bed. He released me gave me a kiss on my forehead. "Goodnight. Sleep well."
I started to drift off. Just a few minutes later, Mistress Muff came in, putting her finger to her lips for silence. I was hurried into their bedroom, and Mistress had me grab my elbows behind my back, then put an arm sheath on me. This sheath was like a giant rectangular pocket for my arms, covering my arms up to just below the pits, preventing them from moving. A strap went from the right shoulder, across the front, through a ring in the left elbow, across the front, through a ring in the right elbow, back across the front, up the left shoulder. Mistress took out a piece of scotch tape, and taped a strip vertically from below my nose to my chin.
“Just a reminder – not a sound.” She kept the door open. I sat down.
A few minutes later, I saw Mistress leading Master into the bedroom. His hands were manacled behind his back, and he had on a gag harness with attached blindfold. One strap ran under his chin, cheek to cheek, to hold his lower jaw, and two straps ran from his cheeks to the bridge of his nose, merging with the blindfold, before one strap ran from the top of his nose to the straps that ran around his head. Mistress was holding a pet leash, attached to the CB-2000, effectively leading master by the balls. She guided him over to the bed, had him sit, and then started tying him down, releasing his hands only to re-bind them. Master co-operated fully. Within a few minutes, he was spreadeagled.
She started teasing him. “So. You really wanted to have sex earlier on, didn’t you.”
Master nodded yes.
“And you really want sex now.” Master nodded yes.
“Should I give you sex?” Master violently nodded yes.
“Then I’ll give you sex. And lots of it!” Master started bucking up, but met with only air.
Mistress Muff unlocked the CB-2000, and took it off of him. He was visibly enlarging already. She grabbed some strappy thing instead. One strap went around the base of the balls, and buckled shut. From there, two straps went to a ring that encircled the penis just in front of the balls. From that ring, two straps went to a third ring. From the third ring, two straps went to a quite small looking fourth ring.
Muff muttered to herself “Now, we’ll just snug the Gates Of Hell up tight. . . “
Master obviously had no clue what was coming, and neither did I. Muff pulled out a condom, and put it over the rings covering Master’s hardening penis.
She started gently stroking the penis, and Master was clearly enjoying it. After only 20 seconds, Master started to squirm and twitch. Then spasms started. Mistress looked at me and smiled.
“That’s right slave. The Gates are too small for you to get fully hard in. Quite small really. The harder you try to get, the more it will try to pull your balls off. But let it not be said. . . “ Muff straddled him, and started using his caged penis like a dildo, teasing herself into getting wet. Master struggled violently – he clearly wanted to cum, but the Gates were preventing him from getting hard. Muff slowly mounted Master, and Master started bucking for all he was worth. Mistress calmly rose up, and Master rose to follow. Mistress pushed a few pillows under Master’s butt, preventing him from coming down, then continued with slow motion sex. A few more times of this, and Master was stuck at full extension. Muff calmly continued slowly going up and down on Master’s shaft.
“You know, this feels wonderful. Nice and wide, and ribbed for my enjoyment, without the cold rubber feel. Yet it seems to last and last without getting soft. I could get used to this.” Master was struggling and struggling, trying to orgasm, but to no avail. Muff started slowly playing with her breasts, and taking her time getting off on the trapped penis. It must have been about 45 minutes or an hour that she rode him, smoothly gliding up and down, grinding in when it suited her.
She finally came, and collapsed on top of him. After a few minutes of one-way cuddles, she got up, and released my arms. With a pointing finger, she sent me to bed. As I left, she was already picking up the CB-2000 for re-installation.
I slept well, dreaming of being teased as well as Mistress Muff did for Master.
05.05.03
story continues in Wench for a Weekend
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