BINDING AGREEMENT, Part IV
By the time Bonda finally came down to earth again, literally, she was one giant
spasm, unable to itch, bitch or think straight. She wanted to be free - not
forever, just long enough to regain the sensations of touch and movement.
When she came down, she went nowhere but sideways. Her bell balloon bondage was
tilted on end, and then she heard Tyrenna's voice through her earpieces:
"Time to let the good times roll, dear," Tyrenna giggled.
Bonda felt her caged and coccooned self rolled through the hallways and (bounce,
bounce, bounce) down the steps of Mistress Sally's little slave hut. By the time
she rolled to a stop, her head was spinning faster than a cotton candy machine.
Her rolly-polly ride had pounded her breasts and buttocks, and jostled her
crotch enough to remind her that Invaders 1 and 2 were still taking up space in
her spaces.
Her bell was flipped roughly upright, and she felt the balloon slowly
decompress.
She felt the feeling return to places where she'd lost it, even though she was
still mummified in her latex and metal. The feeling reminded her of the rush
when she used to unlace her wicked leather corset, which cinched her down to an
18'' waist.
Except this relief went from head to toe.
Tyrenna cut away her latex prison with quick snips of her scissors, and the
latex literally sucked away from her body as Tyrenna peeled it from her.
Bonda suddenly shivered. It felt cold around her. Then Tyrenna sprayed her caged
form with a heavy, warm mist of water. It felt so good.
One by one, Tyrenna dialed the combination locks and they popped open. But it
was at least 20 minutes later before she was on to Bonda's hooded head, her
buckled bindings, her fettered feet. Finally, she was free of all devices except
those three nasty inflatables.
"Leave the gag in for now," said Tyrenna. "But you can take everything else
out."
Bonda did.
Tyrenna snapped a leather and rubber collar on Bonda's neck. The collar was
attached to a chain, which in turn was attached to an overhead track that ran
vertically across the room. Tyrenna ordered Bonda to submerge herself in a huge,
neck-deep bubble bath built into the floor of the room.
"Enjoy yourself while you can," Tyrenna said. "We only allow an hour off between
punishments. There is a toilet over there, and a dressing table with perfumes
and other toiletries next to it. I'm going to fetch you some food."
By the time Tyrenna returned, Bonda was in front of a dressing table, primping
herself. Bonda's gag was removed and she was instructed to sit down and dine.
Throughout the bath, and during the meal, Bonda had found herself rubbing her
body, getting the sensations back to normal. Her puss and her breasts were
particularly sensitive. Her sweaty red skin tone had almost returned to its
normal pinkish hue.
She felt terrific, she thought. Her whole body felt alive. She felt like she'd
just awakened from an erotic night full of lovemaking, with a glow all over her.
She was satisfied in every way but one.
And why not? She was clean, freshly relieved, and filled with good food - a
gourmet breakfast, no less.
What was next?
Mistress Sally's earlier words echoed in her head: "We have a wonderful day of
self-punishment lined up for you?"
Her flashback was interrupted by Tyrenna clearing her throat.
"Free time's up," she said. "It's SGTT - Slave Girl Torture Time."
Bonda moaned as Tyrenna released her from the overhead chain and attached a long
leather leash to her collar.
"Follow me, dear," she ordered, and the two walked back up a flight of stairs
and down a long hallway. They entered the last room on the left.
Bonda was led over to a dressing table and ordered to remain standing as Tyrenna
dressed her in long, white latex stockings, 8'' red leather ballet boots, a
matching red helmet with eye, nose and mouth openings, and matching red gloves.
She was then wrapped and laced into a white heavy-latex sheath dress that
allowed her only inches of space to wiggle-walk her way around. Her collar was
detached and replaced by a 5'' posture collar sewn into the dress, with O-rings
that buckled to her red helmet on either side and at the back. The back buckle
forced her head back to the point that she found herself staring at the ceiling.
Bonda considered her position: her arms were still free, she should still see,
and she could breath freely. Was this their best bondage?
No.
As Bonda stood there teetering, Tyrenna wheeled over a 7-foot-high, 4-foot
square plexiglas box on wheels, all framed in heavy-duty metal. Rods, rings,
chains, clamps, pulleys and sex toys ringed the sides and hung from the ceiling.
On the plexiglas door were the letters: PERPETUAL PUNISHMENT MACHINE.
Tyrenna opened the door and ushered Bonda inside. Bonda tippy-toed her way to
the middle of the box, where Tyrenna secured her by her helmet to a pulley
overhead. Tyrenna pulled adjustable L-shaped bars down from the ceiling, almost
parallel to Bonda's shoulders, but slightly higher. Bonda was strapped into the
bars at the shoulders, above the elbows, below the elbows, and at the wrists.
She could swing her arms slightly forward and back, but not from side to side.
Next Tyrenna strapped a black leather strap across her mouth, forcing two
hard-rubber blocks into her mouth.
After the leather was strapped behind Bonda's head, Tyrenna turned a crank and
the two rubber blocks started to part. Bonda's mouth slowly opened wider and
wider until she felt her mouth could be extended no more. She droooled
helpessly. Then Tyrenna fitt a brank over the bottom rubber block. A rubber
shaft was mounted at the far end of the brank, and Bonda could see that a groove
down the center of the brank could guide the shaft directly into her mouth. A
system of pistons was attached to the underside of the brank, and as Tyrenna
pulled up and down on the bottom piston, the rubber shaft slid into Bonda's
mouth, across her tongue, and back out.
"That should keep your mouth occupied," Tyrenna said.
Bonda flinched.
Tyrenna hummed to herself as she fit a metal girdle around Bonda's middle. It
also had a series of pistons and pulleys, and somehow (Bonda could not lower her
head to see), one piston on her girdle was attached to the bottom piston of the
brank.
"Spread your legs," Tyrenna ordered.
Bonda moaned. Her rubber sheath dress had little give, but on her tippy-toes,
she was able to extend her ankles about four inches apart. She felt an
adjustable spreader bar being attached to either ankle, and then Tyrenna cranked
her ankles apart even further, to maybe a 6" gap. Bonda screwed short extension
poles into the spreader bar; two in front, two in back, all with O-rings
attached. She then attached stiff aluminum poles from the O-rings in front to
O-rings at her tethered wrists.
Identical poles ran from the back poles at her ankles to her elbows. Poles
secured from her elbows to her sides prevented her from twisting too far to one
side or the other.
Bonda wasn't sure yet what all this accomplished.
"You are becoming a mechanical doll," Tyrenna said. "These parts will all
interconnect and, like a Rube Goldberg device, create an on-going, self-driven
series of actions-and-reactions, all designed for your personal discomfort."
Bonda's dress had black rubber pop-off plugs at the most convenient locations:
her butt, her crotch, and her nipples. One by one, Tyrenna unplugged the holes.
She attached a series of pulleys and poles to the metal girdle. Two poles angled
out in front of Bonda's breasts, about six inches away from her body. Bonda
winced as a huge nipple clamp was attached to each breast. Each clamp was
attached by a wire that ran inside the rods and back to the girdle and its
interconnected pulleys and pistons. Behind her, Bonda felt Tyrenna screw a
rubber shaft onto the end of a piece of tubing. Tyrenna attached the shaft to
the end of a U-shaped series of tubes than ran from the metal girdle and went
out, down, and back up, between Bonda's cheeks.
The shaft found her dark cavity and burrowed all the way up. The same process
was repeated in front: out, down, and up, up, up.
Then came a metal box that screwed into the back of the metal girdle. It, too,
had four separate piston-pole extensions that went out and down to four
spring-loaded table-tennis paddles: two aimed at her left cheek, and two at her
right. Other poles ran from the box to her elbows and heels.
Finally, Tyrenna came around front and attached a very long pole from Bonda's
posture collar to the spreader bar. But the pole, secured to the middle of the
spreader bar, was a little too short: Bonda could touch the floor with the left
toe of her ballet boots, or the right toe, but not both.
"Let me explain what's about to happen," Tyrenna said. "The wheels on the
outside of your plexiglas prison are set to force you to walk in a large,
continuing circle around this room. Every time you take a step, the pistons and
poles will push and pull and take on a life of their own.
They will pull and release your nipples. They will push each shaft in and out.
They will trigger and re-set the paddles. Your body will react to each pain,
each paddle, each probe, and as you react, you will naturally wiggle from side
to side, pushing yourself forward, forcing the cycle to start all over.
"To get you started, all I have to do is release the brake locks on all four
wheels, give you a little push, and off you go. Are you ready?"
Bonda wiggled her tongue and grunted.
"Good," said Tyrenna. One by one, Tyrenna released the brake locks. After she
released the last one, she stood up and looked at Bonda's motionless form. She
went behind Bonda and pinched her left cheek. Bonda lurched forward, shimmying
slightly from side to side.
Bonda was off.
She heard Tyrenna shut the plexiglas door behind her and she could feel the
poles and pistons take on a life of her own. Whoosh. Clink. Whoosh. Clink. Left
toe. Right toe. Swat. Whoosh. The shaft went deep into Bonda's mouth, gagging
her, and slid back out. The other shafts did the same. Her nipples went taut,
them limp. The paddles slapped her butt. Left. Right. Nipples taut. Nipples
limp. Shaft in. Shaft out. Whoosh. Slap. Whoosh. Pull. In and out. Slap and
pull.
By her second trip around the room, Bonda wondered how long she could hold off
an orgasm.
Not long.
Her body shook with delight before she made it around a third time.
But she kept going, unable to stop.
"Isn't this fun?" Tyrenna mused. "You come and go at the same time. You'll do
five trips of 100 laps each, with a 5-minute break in between."
Whoosh. Slap. Whoosh. Pull.
In and out.
Slap and pull.
She came.
She went.
She had no choice.
