Day 5--Geoffrey
The day dawned red and promptly reversed, growing progressively
darker as the weather took a turn for the wetter. After a hearty and
strangely pleasant breakfast, I led Sabrina downstairs to the studio.
"Indoor sports today, I'm afraid," I announced in what I thought was
a cheerful tone of voice. "Looks like this could last through the
weekend. Good thing we're on schedule."
Stop chattering, you asshole, I almost said out loud. To distract
myself, I walked to the edge of the room and pulled out a rack laden
with fancy leather outfits, elegant European designs suitable for a
cocktail party at Versailles or a disco on Capri.
Let her go to the ball for a while. Plenty of time before the clock
strikes midnight.
And I already knew the shoe would fit my Cinderella's foot, not to
mention her ankle, calf, knee and thigh.
I let her have fun playing dress-up, her demeanor becoming less
inhibited as the hours rolled by like minutes. After a glass or two
of wine at lunch, she became positively saucy, then borderline
obscene, flashing various body parts in perfect time to the lights
triggered by my shutter.
I realized this particular session would give me more than enough
naughty pictures for the association's stupid little annual report.
If they even bothered to use them. But I could probably sell several
thousand copies myself after she's safely transported to the other
side of the planet. Maybe they could be used as bait for new
subscribers to bdsm-vixens.com or whichever porn site offered me the
most money for the proofs.
Not that I was going to need the extra dough, according to the most
recent telegram from Hong Kong informing me that her auction was
progressing splendidly. But fresh pictures always helped spur
reluctant bidders.
I waited until Sabrina tried on the micro-miniskirt, then suggested
she put on the thigh-high boots from the day before. Giggling, she
agreed. She even let me help her squirm into a leather bustier that
covered her torso from her navel to just barely over the top of her
nipples. Opera-length leather gloves, complete with laces, soon ran
up her arms to her shoulders.
"You look like a gorgeous sex kitten," I noted with a smile. "Maybe
a kitten with a whip?"
"What is it with you and this bondage stuff?" Sabrina asked with the
slightest of slurs in her voice.
"Curiosity killed the cat," I replied with a wink.
She giggled again while I unlocked one of the trunks and pulled out
a flogger with long leather strips hanging down from a stout handle.
"Hold this like you mean it," I said, handing it to her. I lowered
my voice into a make-believe villain. "Make me suffer with your
gaze."
She burst into laughter and started pretending to be a world-class
dominatrix, snarling and sneering and cracking the whip.
"Hurt me," I cried as I snapped picture after picture. "Make me
your slave. C'mon, show me what you'd like to do to me."
After several poses, I signaled for her to stop.
"I hate to waste the outfit," I said as I reloaded my camera. "Are
you game to keep going?"
"Sh-sh-sure," she replied with yet another giggle.
I returned to the open trunk. "Let's try the other side of the
equation. Put your hands behind your back."
I walked toward Sabrina holding a pair of handcuffs.
--Sabrina--
I swear I was ready for him. When Geoffrey whipped out the whip, I
knew we would revert to his favorite sport: tying me up and
pretending it was all in a day's work. Same old story, same old song
and dance, my friend.
Only this time, I was in the mood to play along. I had fun. I was
slightly drunk, too. I wanted a taste of danger, like I did when I
was younger and hitchhiked with my best friend; two schoolgirls,
pretty and insolent and shouting it to the world, more terrified of
our parents than any dastardly fate that might befall us. Nothing
bad ever happened, except the one time when the driver started
masturbating as he headed out of town. We literally jumped out of
the car at the first traffic light, and tried to laugh to forget how
scared we had been. We were kids, and danger was fun.
That day, danger was fun, too. Without hesitation, I put my hands
behind my back, and I felt the same thrill as climbing in the car of
a random stranger. When I play with fire, I occasionally forget it
can burn.
I felt the cold metal on my wrists at the same time as I heard the
"click" of the lock. He was fast, as always.
Geoffrey took something out of his pocket, brought it up close to my
face, and--yikes! Darkness. Total. Very, very total. I didn't
like this at all, but I bit my lip. This is just a game, I told
myself. Let's see how far you can go.
He led me toward the back of the stage and fumbled with something.
After the noisy photo session, the silence around us was almost
surreal. I felt him attach what sounded like a clip to the chain
linking my cuffs.
"I'm tired of these standing shots," he said. "Time for something
different."
His last words echoed in my ears when my arms suddenly shot skyward.
To keep my balance, I had to bend forward. When the pulling stopped,
I found myself in such an awkward position, my insubordinate nature
spurted back.
"Hey, not so high. I can't keep my balance. C'mon, bring it down."
"Hold on. Let me deal with that little balance problem," he said as
he walked back to his trunks.
While I was trying to find a more comfortable position--lifting my
head, bending my knees, trying to turn around, none of which really
worked--he grabbed my hips to straighten me up, and asked me to
spread my legs.
"Wider. Much wider. There." As he spoke, he clutched my leather-
clad ankles and connected them to something.
When I heard him turn away, I tried to move, but discovered I could
no longer close my legs. Oh, good, he had me grounded, too. I
conducted a rapid survey of my situation, and decided the game was
not turning in my favor. Yet, despite the obvious discomfort, I was
still more thrilled than upset.
Funny what a mixture of wine and adrenaline will do to you. Two
days before, I had kicked up a fuss about being lashed to a tree.
And there I was, doubled over, with my ass not even covered by the
almost-nonexistent skirt. My hands and feet were useless, and I was
completely in the dark as to what was to come.
Then, quite unexpectedly, I burst into laughter.
"Now, this is quite a situation you've put me in, Geoffrey," I
managed to splutter. "And tell me, what do we do now?"
--Geoffrey--
"I want you to hold this for me. But if you drop it, I'm going to
use it on you. Open your mouth."
Before Sabrina could react, I wedged the handle of the flogger
between her teeth, then stood back to watch as she struggled between
the desire to spit it out, and the consequences if she did.
"A very wise choice," I commented once she calmed down. Not that it
would last. This one seemed to think that fighting me was a winning
strategy. I needed to take advantage of it while I could, capture
her aggression and make it come alive on film.
Several rolls later, I decided she could use some accessories.
"I'm going to give you some more things to hold until I need them."
I placed a leather gag with a thick rubber penis jutting out of the
mouth plate into one of her hands bouncing behind her back. The
other soon received a sizeable plug for her ass.
As I reloaded my camera, I watched her fingers twitch and claw as
she tried to deduce what they were clutching. She looked so
marvelous when she got agitated. But such a pity to lose the eyes.
I would definitely take some pictures without the blindfold. To see
and be seen, to scream and be screened.
I pulled some clamps out of one pocket and fingered them
appreciatively. They were the kind that looked like little presses,
the kind used to crush grapes. A single turn of the screw could
create entire new dimensions of distress.
And if that didn't work, there was always the weights. Eventually,
the whip would be on the floor, then in my hand.
I reached over to one of her breasts that had popped free of the
bustier and positioned the two thin brass bars around her soft, pink
nipple. Holding it steady with one hand, I began twisting the
serrated knob with the other.
--Sabrina--
The regular "click" of the shutter was the only thing that kept me
close to a semblance of reality. Beyond that, nothing made sense.
My attention was centered on my jaws and teeth. "Don't drop the
handle" was the only thing that registered. I had no doubt that the
thing in my mouth was the lower half of some kind of whip, and I
wasn't going to let Geoffrey use it on me. I wasn't sure he would,
but I didn't want to learn otherwise.
My hands, still wrapped in the long leather gloves, had stopped
their futile maneuvers to deduce what they were holding. The phallus-
shaped object had a square base that disqualified all the items I
could think of. And the smooth conical form of the other had me
completely confused. Whatever they were, I knew I should hold onto
them for dear life.
The handle seemed increasingly heavy, and I clenched my muscles one
more time to steady my grip. At that moment, I felt him place
something hard and cold on my nipple.
Then it went tight.
I moaned under the sharp pain, but bit harder. Don't drop it, I
told myself. Just don't drop it.
The other nipple.
Oh, Lord. Focus. Bite. Hold it.
When the pain suddenly grew exponentially, and I felt my breasts sag
as if stones were hanging from them, I let out a cry. I took a
couple of long breaths and tried to accommodate the pain. When I
came back to my senses, I realized my mouth was empty. I had also
dropped one of the objects in my hands, but at the time, the fact
barely registered.
"Shit." My voice was a coarse whisper. "You're not really going to
use it on me, are you?"
I heard his voice close to my ear.
"Sabrina, it's about time someone whipped that pretty ass of yours."
Before I could utter a word of protest, he filled my mouth again
and, in doing so, gave me the final clue about the cock thing. A
gag. Shaped like a penis. No home should be without one. Nor your
friendly neighborhood lunatic asylum.
He lifted the micro-skirt up my hips to expose my ass. Fear built
up. He wouldn't.
A short whistling sound.
He did.
Hurt. Anger. Shame. I didn't know which was worse. I thrashed in
my bonds, but it only increased the burning sting on my breasts.
"One," he counted.
This was a nightmare. He just couldn't...
"Five."
To hell with humiliation; all I wanted was for him to stop. I was
frenetically jerking my head around, moaning as loud as I could.
"Twelve."
I dropped the other object as the biting straps landed on my right
thigh. The pain was unbearable. My ass, my thighs, my breasts were
on fire, to say nothing of the strain on my neck and shoulders.
There didn't seem to be a single part of my body that didn't ache.
"Twenty-five."
Can't breathe. Stop.
"Thirty-six."
He paused.
I prayed to all deities that he would leave it there. My face was
wet with tears, the blindfold stuck to my swollen eyes. If only he
could take the gag off, I would beg. Anything but the whip. Please.
--Geoffrey--
"Fifty."
I placed the whip on the floor and bent over to whisper harshly in
Sabrina's ear.
"From now on, you will do exactly as I tell you the second I tell
you. Any hesitation will result in more of the same, only doubled.
Do you understand?"
She nodded her head vigorously.
"I'm going to remove your gag, but you are not to speak unless I ask
you a direct question. In those rare instances, the only words you
are permitted to say are 'yes, please.' Do you understand?"
I reached around her head, unbuckled the strap and pulled the plug
out of her mouth.
"Yes...please," she rasped.
"Would you like some water?"
"Yes, please," she replied, this time with more energy.
I found a bottle of Evian and positioned the opening against her
lips, allowing her to take as much as she wanted.
When she was finished, I began unlocking her cuffed ankles from the
spreader bar, then untied the rope keeping her arms aloft. I had to
hold her steady while she regained her balance.
"You did very well today, Sabrina. And I am confident you'll do
even better tomorrow."
I left her swaying in the center of the room while I procured a few
necessary items from one of my closets.
"But there's going to be a slight change in your accommodations here
for the remainder of your stay."
I placed a posture collar around her neck and buckled it, forcing
her chin upward. A leash dangled down between her still-clamped
breasts.
Next, I took the butt plug and ran it back and forth between her
legs. When it was thoroughly lubricated, I pushed it slowly into her
anus, savoring the tight resistance and her plaintive squeaks and
squirms. Then I did likewise with a vibrator, slipping it between
the folds of her very wet sex until nothing remained visible but its
control knob, which I twisted to its slowest setting.
Finally, I wrapped a leather belt around her waist, buckled it, then
padlocked a second strap securely around her crotch.
"This will help prevent any accidents. In that unfortunate event,
you will clean up your mess with your tongue."
Every slaver needs a proper cage, and mine was custom-built to
enclose a kneeling female with handy openings to access her
unprotected assets. Reinforced steel bars and three separate locks
on the door, including one with a combination worthy of a bank vault,
ensured it was inescapable unless I decided otherwise, as its many
occupants over the years could attest, presuming their current owners
still allowed them to speak in public.
I lugged the black mass onto the stage, then used a ladder to thread
a chain through a pulley hanging from the scaffolding. When I was
finished, I picked up the end of her leash and led her to the open
door.
"Get down on your knees. Good. Now, move forward. That's it.
Bend your head down."
When Sabrina was all the way inside the structure, I padlocked her
ankles together and did likewise to the door behind her. With a few
hearty tugs on the chain, the cage was soon hanging at eye level.
I wrapped the end of her leash around the bars lining the bottom of
the cell so she couldn't move her head. The weights, still hanging
from her nipples, swung gently beneath her as she struggled in her
new position.
"If I hear a single sound...100."
I clicked off the lights and climbed up the stairs to cook myself a
well-deserved celebration feast. But first, I would check the
mailbox for any recent deliveries from Western Union.
--Sabrina--
Abandoned in total silence and darkness, I surrendered to the flood
of confusing emotions. Anger. At myself, for playing a game with
someone who won every time. Fury. At him. For so many reasons, I
couldn't think of one in particular. Incomprehension. What did
Geoffrey want? Why was he doing this to me? Utter distress. For
there was nothing I could do but wait until he chose to free me.
And the waiting would be long and painful. My ass still burned from
the whipping; the slightest touch from my hands, still cuffed behind
my back, was unbearable. The awful plug he had forced into me made
it all the more humiliating. The pinching on my breasts had weakened
somewhat; I figured the blood had been squeezed out of them, but I
sighed as I imagined what was happening to their pretty round shapes.
Trying to find a more comfortable position, I managed to kneel
completely and lay my chest on my knees, which also alleviated the
strain on my neck. However, the weight of my whole body was now
centered on my folded legs, cruelly cut by the bars of my cell.
And there was the constant buzzing in my pussy. I thought I'd be
able to ignore the slow vibrations, but the throbbing between my legs
proved otherwise.
To distract myself, I concentrated on what I would do once I got me
out of the cage. Call the association. No, they wouldn't believe
me. Reason with Geoffrey. Probably pointless. Escape. Barefoot,
naked, whatever it took. Just leave this hellish place.
Soon enough, the insidious humming inside me did its job, and rank
arousal overwhelmed my thoughts. All I could think about was the
irksome intruder, and how I could stop it. Or make it faster. I
squeezed my thighs tighter and moved my hips up and down, but that
made things worse. Increasingly frustrated, I felt like yelling at
the top of my lungs, but sobbed quietly instead.
After a long spell, I calmed down and tried to will myself to sleep.
But even that relief wasn't allowed. At best, I would doze off, only
to wake up shortly later, feeling worse than before.
I began to hallucinate. I thought I heard him come in and check on
me twice. I also dreamed that a black horse was licking my bare ass,
cooling the wounds with its huge tongue. My reality was one of
distress and chaos, and I couldn't even trust the few senses I had
left.
Eventually, after what seemed like the longest night in my life--or
had it only been two hours?--the vibrations stopped, and sheer
exhaustion let me sink into merciful oblivion.
