DARLA

Darla's breath whistled in an out of her nose in panting, raspy gasps as she fought an overload of conflicting sensations and emotions.

She felt the agony of many hours of bound, helpless immobility. Every muscle and joint in her body was in some way stretched, twisted, or bend into a contorted, painful position, and held that way by tight, biting cords and equally tight leather and rubber contrivances that kept her deaf, silent and sightless.

She felt the ecstasy as waves of sexual pleasure coursed through her body. Her ripe, hard nipples, both pink holes and her stiff, slippery clit were endlessly assaulted by a variety of buzzing, pinching, throbbing, burrowing implements of erotic torment.

Oh God, how it hurt. How wonderful it felt.

She lay naked, on her belly, on an unyielding concrete floor. She was in a small, dark room. The air was stuffy….the room, unventilated, had become warm and humid. The smell in the room was strong and unmistakable….that of an aroused woman. Her body glistened with sweat. Pungent brown fluid generated deep in her plundered, spasming bowel oozed around the huge black rubber plug which stretched her aching sphincter. Slippery, musky smelling secretions gushed around the shiny steel invader buried deep in her vagina, and welled up on the pink inner folds before dripping slowly onto the floor. A glistening wet spot on the floor was evidence of the effect the stimulation was having on her body.

There was a thin chain around her waist, fastened by a small padlock. It was so tight that the chain almost disappeared into her flesh. A second chain affixed to the waist chain passed between the crack in her ass and the folds of her labia, eventually locking at her waist just below her navel. This chain was tight also, and served to hold the implements of her arousal buried deeply inside her two pink holes. Wires ran from both to a small control box. It was, of course, microprocessor controlled, and it functioned in a mindless, remorseless manner. The computer had several options available for each buried implement. Perhaps a high frequency buzz, or maybe a deep resonant throb. It might choose a pleasant tickle of electricity, a tingle, an excruciating zap of amps, or everything in between. Or…worst of all….nothing.

Her beautiful 36C breasts didn't escape treatment either. Her captor had chosen rough, brown sisal cord for her bondage. Each full breast had been bound around the based until they bulged like two balloons. Cords circled her torso. Three loops above, and below her breasts, with a cinch bringing the bands together between her breasts. This harness of ropes was the foundation for her stringent arm bondage. It was so tight that it restricted her breathing. Her large pink nipples were now an angry dark red from the pressure of the spring loaded nipple clamps. Wires from these clamps ran to the same control unit, and her nipples were "treated" to the same range of electrical stimulation as the tender flesh between her legs.

Darla has beautiful, lustrous jet black hair, but the only glimpse available of her wonderful mane is a tendril that has slipped under the snug, stiff posture collar around her neck. Darla's head is completely enclosed in a heavy leather punishment helmet. Inside the hood heavy pads are strategically placed to cover each eye, and muffle each ear. There are no eyeholes, no possibility of light infiltrating her darkness. The hood forms to her features, with two small fitting at her nose. Each fitting has a small tube that enters her nostril on the inside. The tubes pass through the leather, and protrude a half inch outside the hood. The tubes are threaded at the end and there are attachments that marry up with these threads. It is possible to link the wearer to a "scent casket". A variety of unpleasant aromas or odors can be loaded in the various compartments, forcing the wearer of the hood to endure noxious smells with each precious breath. There are also fittings to reduce the size of the opening. Each tube is normally ¼ inch, which will provide sufficient airflow to allow oxygen for even a moderate amount of struggling. Smaller openings make breathing more difficult, and force the wearer into complete inactivity with a total focus of taking deep, slow breaths. The smallest openings are little more than a mere pore, and force the wearer to struggle for survival. Darla's openings are 1/8 inch….enough air…but just barely. The tight compression of her chest by the rope harness, the endless orgasmic torment between her thighs and the reduced airflow of her discipline helmet all contribute to her erratic noisy gasping for air.

There is no mouth opening to the hood as the leather flows from the nose opening under the jaw, and down the neck. It is airtight. A wide strap covers the mouth area, and buckles behind her neck. Even inside the helmet it is obvious from the distention of her jaw and the bulge of her cheeks that her mouth is stuffed. A large block of dense foam has been carefully carved to occupy every cranny of Darla's mouth. She opened her mouth as widely as possible and the huge foam plug was jammed between her lips, over her teeth, and into her oral cavity. The bulk of the mass pressed against the roof of her mouth, and held her tongue firmly captive. Foam wings off each side wedged between her upper and lower molars, making her cheeks bulge out like a chipmunk. Grooves at the top and bottom of the mass mated with her with upper and lower front teeth, and at least an inch of sponge protruded from her mouth. When the strap was buckled across her lower face, this protrusion was forced back into her mouth, increasing the pressure of the gag, and pushing the mass more deeply into her throat.

Darla's arms were bound behind her, crossed, with her hands drawn up between her shoulder blades in a stringent hammerlock position. The sisal digs into the flesh of her bound wrists, chafing her skin. Her hands are tied to the rope harness that tightly circles her torso, and addition ropes wrap around her upper arms and body, holding her elbows in tightly against her ribs, pushing her wrists even higher toward towards her neck.

Her legs are bound with her ankles crossed. This serves to keep access open to her abused pink holes, while making it impossible for the bound girl to roll over on her side. Her ankles have been linked to the harness circling her torso just above her bound wrists. This link was tightened, bending the girl backwards until her shoulders, chest and magnificent breasts came completely off the floor. The final piece of her bondage was a cord attached to a ring sewn into her discipline helmet at the top of her head. The other end was threaded through her torso rope harness, and pulled tight. Darla's head was pulled back until the poor girl's blind eyes were pointed towards the ceiling.

The tight cords on Darla's wrists and the harsh arm position are slowly impeding the flow of blood to her hands. She flutters her fingers to maintain feeling and circulation, but slowly they are turning grey and lifeless….not to the point of danger, but certainly nearing the point where her hands will be numb and useless. A small silver ball is clutched desperately in her left hand. For whatever reason, the sphere seems important to the bound woman.

Clearly the woman was in a terrible situation. Stringent bondage, blinded, harshly gagged…gasping for air, her sensitive flesh under relentless torment.

She had nobody but herself to blame.

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Two nights earlier Darla was happily in John's bed. She was tautly spread eagled to the bedposts by thick leather cuffs and straps. Her ass was raised by the several large pillows underneath her, and after an hour of erotic foreplay he had plundered her dripping gash from behind with his wonderful, thick, eight inch prick. Darla's three inch ballgag only partially muffled her moans of delight. She laid breathing softly in the aftermath, her sweaty body relaxing. He lay beside her, stoking her back, kneading the firm, resilient ass cheeks. She was almost asleep, when he murmured in an offhand manner, "How about if we get married?"

No woman was ever less able to express her surprise and happiness. All she could do was quiver in her bonds with tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. "Well?" he asked.

"Nnnnn…unnnnnnhh hunnnnhh!" she exclaimed wetly, nodding her head emphatically.

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Darla was an accountant, and had met John at a Young Republicans meeting. She was attractive, but reserved in her demeanor. She had been through several relationships, and was sexual active, but none of them had come to anything. She felt something was missing in her life, but she didn't know what.

John had taken care of that. He was a lawyer, wealthy from an inherited fortune, with a large house on the ocean and his choice of a Porsche or Escalade to drive depending on his mood. He had his choice of women, but he too was looking for something, and in Darla found kindred, complimentary spirit.

For 3 months he had nurtured her budding submissiveness, and she had grown to embrace her tightly bound helplessness.

Later, she sat naked on his lap in front of the computer. Their voyage of discovery had taken them to the internet, and there were several favorite sites where they purchased new toys, and gained inspiration for new experiences. "This weekend we will shop for an engagement ring," he told her, "but I have something I need to show you." He opened his video player, and clicked on a file. "I found this last week…..take a look." Darla's eyes opened wide as she looked at the image moving on the screen. Most internet bondage was a mixture of ropes and cheesecake. Beautiful models, with perfect hair, makeup and lipstick, wearing frilly lingerie were displayed in bondage that ranged from the silly to moderately tight. This image was different. She could not see the face of the woman, because she was tightly hooded. She was naked on a dirty concrete floor. Sweat poured off the captive woman as she strained against the tightest bondage that Darla had ever seen. The camera moved behind her, and Darla could see that her pussy was shaved, and her two bald, wet, pink openings were distended by huge plugs.

"Golly John", exclaimed Darla. "That really looks hard on the girl." John smiled, and looked his future bride in the eye. "It is hard on her….and it will be very hard on you," he grinned mischievously. "There will, however, be a reward." "Huh? What do you mean? What kind of reward?" she questioned.

"Every hour you stay in bondage is worth ¼ carat on the diamond on your engagement ring."

Darla's eye grew wide. "In that position?" she asked.

"Yes. That one…or maybe a little worse."

"So….if I spend 4 hours in bondage I get a one carat ring?

"Yes. If you can last 4 hours." He responded. "I hope you do…or longer. It's all up to you Honey….….I've got plenty of money."

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Darla bit down on the huge foam plug in her mouth, and snorted noisily through her nose.

The balance between pain and pleasure was tormenting her. One minute the vibrating demons buried inside her flesh would bring her to a wonderful, crashing climax, and she would briefly forget about the harshness of her bondage. Shortly thereafter her senses would be fixed solely on the pain in her neck caused by her stringently pulled back head. At that moment nothing could hurt worse than that….nothing was more important….except the silver ball clutched feverishly in the numb fingers of her left hand.

Darla had no idea how long she had been bound.

It was no longer about her body.

She had all the orgasms she was going to have, and the vibrators were now merely annoying. She had adapted to a dark, sweaty world. He jaw ached, but wasn't getting any worse, and the various pains caused by tight ropes and wracked joints had merged into an all encompassing agony.

It was all about her mind.

All she had to do was drop the little silver ball, and it would all be over. Being able to stretch her muscles. A drink of water. Food. A nice hot bath. The loving arms of her fiancé. All these things waited for her…all she had to do was drop the damn ball.

A diamond ring! Every girl's dream. How big would it be? One carat? Two? Every hour it became bigger. All she had to do was hang onto that little silver ball!

In the end, the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. Her fingers became cold, numb sausages that she could no longer control. She didn't feel the ball slip out of her grasp, but she could hear the sound of the metal ball bouncing off the concrete floor. In the quiet of the dark, damp room it sounded like a gunshot.

John was beside her almost immediately. She couldn't have known it, but he had been nearby the entire time, watching on camera, and listening via hidden microphones.

Quickly he untied the cord holding her head back. She groaned with relief as her head fell forward and hung limp. He unbuckled the gag strap, and then began unlacing the hood. Cool air! How wonderful! She blinked at the sudden light, the sweat stinging her eyes as he pulled the hood away. She grimaced as the fittings pulled free from her nostrils. Her hair was a damp, tangled mess and her face was creased with pressure lines from the seams of the hood. The foam plug was still inside her mouth, and her stretched lips were dry and cracked. She moaned softly as John grasped the foam and wiggled and tugged until it popped from between her teeth. The gag was dropped on the floor beside them with a wet plop.

To his amazement, she twisted in his direction and smiled at him. "Hello, Master." She croaked.

"Hello my love." He answered softly. "You have done beautifully."

Darla took a couple of deep breaths, and stretched her muscled to the limits of their confinement. Her fingers wiggled feebly, helpless between her shoulder blades. "How long, Master?" she asked.

"Twenty three hours and forty six minutes….round it to twenty four hours," he said.

"Ummm….how big is that?" she asked. "I'm a little tired to do the math!"

"Eight carats," he answered. "You are going to be wearing about $600 thousand on your finger, give or take a few thousand."

Carla pursed her lips, and he could tell she was thinking about something. Then she spoke.

"Master?"

"Yes my dear?"

"I have a wonderful gift…but I haven't given you anything."

"On the contrary," he answered softly. "You gave me yourself."

"No," she responded. "The past 24 hours was for me……the next 24 will be for you."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Put my gag and hood back on me, and leave me here for another day," she answered.

"Don't be crazy," he said, reaching for the ropes binding her wrists. "You have done more than enough."

"NO!" she exclaimed fiercely. "Don't you dare untie me!" She looked directly at him. "I didn't do this for the ring," she explained. "I did it for you, because I love you so much."

"I know that."

"Then let me do this. For you. Another full day."

John sighed. "OK, I give up."

He gave her a playful slap on the rump as he reached for the gag.

The foam plug was soaked with cold saliva which dripped down his wrist and onto the floor. "It would serve you right if I left you for two more days," he said.

"How about forever?" she said, opening her mouth to accept the gag.