Author's Note: This is version 2 - A rewrite of the original to address the valid comments given about the story. The story line is about the same, but the details are considerably fleshed out and the last half is a major rewrite.
The official positions and the historical events discussed in this story may exist or have existed, but the story characters are not based on, nor do they represent any actions by any actual official.
"Don't make threats if you aren't serious - you might be believed." Anonymous
The nineteen seventies were a tough time to own a sex shop in Texas. This was the lower end of the bible belt and while the average redneck worshiped the second amendment and the Norman Rockwell paintings about the four freedoms of the citizen, those didn't apply to atheist, perverted scumbags, like - well, like me. Possibly a store catering to wife beating or stepdaughter screwing would have done well and have been somewhat more socially acceptable, especially if you were a pillar of the community. You could open an adult shop without much trouble, since it usually caught the local officials by surprise, but to keep it open you had to have two things - a very good cash flow, and a very good attorney. Of course, both of those things are interlocked with each other.
Years ago, in the rural parts of Mississippi, which was about as backward and primitive a place as you could find in America, I was a young twerp living on a hardscrabble farm just one step above the Grapes of Wrath level. Money was a never a problem, since I never saw any, but I was happy. I had thousands of of square miles of forest to roam around in with my only prized possession - a fifth hand BB gun. Of course, a young boy from the age of about five to fourteen doesn't ever actually roam in all those square miles, but they were there.
I bum'ed around with a couple of other boys of my age, and grew up with them. Our part of the state had many sources of water - lakes, ponds, creeks, streams, and so forth. Air conditioning wasn't even science fiction to us back then, so in the summer, every time we came to one of the aforementioned bodies of water, we went swimming. We didn't carry wet bathing suits around with us all day - like all young boys from the beginning of time, when it was time to swim, we stripped down and dove in and thought nothing about our condition of bareness. If a farmer's wife happened along, we waved at her and she waved back. Those were innocent times.
On infrequent, but certainly not rare, occasions, one of my friend's sister or sisters would have followed us and do the same thing. Of course, at that age, we knew better than to associate with girls - it was well known that there was no better way to get cooties. But, sometimes we just couldn't shake them. They stripped down, and followed us in.
In that innocent age, I noticed that there was a subtle difference between the body of my friends and their sisters, but the difference was trivial. About the only thing it meant to us was that the girls couldn't stand up and pee without it running down their legs. Certainly, we had no idea of what the differences were for. Come to think of it, we had no idea what girls were for, period.
Eventually, the sisters stopped swimming in the nude with us. I don't know if the girls, as they approached puberty, naturally realized that it was time to stop associating in the buff with boys, or if their mothers just laid down the law that they were getting too old for that behavior.
One young sister, particularly, was a thorn in my side, always criticizing, mocking my every action, and in general, acting like a girl. One summer day, as I was cooling off in a stream, she showed up and jumped in. I ignored her until she swam underwater and grabbed hold of my pecker (as we called it back then) and my balls. It hurt.
I knew that you didn't hit girls, but I dragged her out of the water to the bank, pulled a climbing rope out of my knapsack, and tied her arms behind her back, then stood her up and wrapped the rest of the rope around a small tree. Interestingly, she didn't yell, or cry, or scream. She seemed to enjoy it. So did I and got a hard on just looking.
For days after, I visualized that scene, without knowing why it fascinated me. We played more bondage games that summer, and for years after until she began to approach puberty. The games weren't sexual, since we had no clue about sex of any kind. But, my love of bondage dates from that point.
In the army, I was trained as a gunsmith. It was work I enjoyed and had an aptitude for. I became very talented at using lathes, milling machines and all kinds of metal working tools. From that training, after my discharge, I had no problem landing a well paying job as a toolmaker with an oilfield company. I also met a secretary of the same company who liked to dally around. In fact, she liked to be tied up and fucked.
As time went on, we experimented with different restraint materials. Rope was bad - it left marks that had to be explained the next day at work, or a reason for wearing a long sleeved turtlenecked sweater in August had to be invented. Chain was good, but it could hurt. And it could also leave marks.
So, at intervals of slacktime, I machined up a set of bracelets and a collar for her. These could be connected with rope, or chain and could be worn for an entire weekend in comfort. And were totally inescapable. Most weekends found her stretched out in one of my inventions - and usually dipping cum from any given hole.
Many other items slowly entered my inventory over the next few years as we experimented with B&D.
Since I had grown up as poor as dirt, money actually meant something to me. It was something to be hoarded for use in bad times and not spent on frivolous stuff like new cars and fancy clothes. As a result of that attitude and an army buddy who had become a stockbroker - and a good paying job - I accumulated a substantial nest egg for the future. This came in handy in the mid 1970's when the oil recession hit and I was laid off.
I had moved to Texas after leaving the army. There were several reasons - one was that the state had no income tax and another was the "looseness" of society. At the time there wasn't a huge bureaucracy dedicated to making what are now called "nanny laws." If you were a tax paying citizen who generally stayed within the set of civilized customs, people left you alone. I later found out that the tolerance didn't include any business that had to do with sex.
I bought an old building in downtown Dallas. It was a leftover, two story, concrete WWII building, ugly and dirt cheap. It was also built like a fortress, which is what caught my eye. I was about to start a business, and wanted something fairly burglar proof. I needed some equipment and this recession was the time to get it, as smaller machinist outfits closed their doors. I picked up a large and a small lathe, a milling machine - old, but built like a battleship - and other miscellaneous metal working items - all for a song. I didn't waste money on my apartment upstairs on anything other than the absolutely needed furnishings - like a bed, stove and refrigerator. The bed I needed because I still played games with my old girl friend - and some new ones, also.
I had the front of the building professionally redone, and soon opened as "Hard Metals Co." I was an expert in machining the very hard materials that most machine shops hated to work, since any inexpertness would result in damaged tools or equipment. Metals like all the various stainless steels, nickel, chromium, cobalt and tungsten, just to name a few. I had no overhead, other than some low property taxes and water and power. I also had a large investment stash, so I could afford to wait until my business naturally grew.
It did, slowly. As the recession slowly came to an end, I picked up a few specialty orders, and as the word spread other work flowed in. I didn't do mass production, specializing instead in one of a kind, cut-to-fit, replacement items mostly. I made sure that every piece of work that I sent out was absolutely perfect, even if I had to lose money on the job. As a result, my reputation grew as a machine shop that could be depended on for absolute reliability.
The cost for my services was very high, but if a company could repair a machine for a few thousand dollars, instead of having to replace it for several million, that was a no-brainer for the financial officer of the outfit. It wasn't long before the customer realized that the part they had received from me was of higher quality than the original. I was also helped by the trend of machinery companies to effectively abandon their old products in the hope that they would be discarded for new.
Meanwhile, I still made small high quality items for more personal use.
One day, a well dressed individual walked in to my office. He was nervous, and possibly embarrassed, it appeared. We were obviously alone, since at that time I had no other employees, not even a secretary.
"Good afternoon, sir," he started. After my affirmative reply, he continued, "I understand that you make custom metal fittings to order?"
"Yes, sir," I replied. "I can build just about any part you need."
Again the nervousness. "I would want this transaction to be confidential." What on earth was this? He didn't have a part in his hand, and he wasn't dressed like a maintenance dude. In fact, he looked more like an attorney. Did he want an illegal part to be built? How in hell would a machined part be illegal, anyway?"
I was mystified, but nodded again. "Certainly, sir. I see no need to inform anybody else of our business."
He handed me a picture. Ah... That explained the attitude. "Can you build one of these?" It was a picture of a painting, probably a book cover, of a woman in a sirik. I had never heard the word, but I knew what the item was.
I nodded and smiled. "Yes sir. You've come to the right place. With your permission, let me show you some of my other, shall we say, less advertised products." I unlocked the door in the rear of my office, turned on the lights and gestured for him to enter. It was a large room, immaculately clean, and totally unexpected to be in the back of an oily machine shop. On the walls were expensive bookcases and around the room were pedestals. These supported various bondage devices, from collars, locks, polished chain, bracelets, plugs, rings, and many other pieces of paraphernalia for making a woman - or a man - feel owned. Larger items like racks, stocks and suspension furniture were in the center of the room.
His eyes grew wide over his open mouth as he looked around. "My god..." He walked around inspecting item after item.
Finally, as he began to recover, I said, "As you can see, I have the same... shall we say, hobby as you. I have made these for use on my own... girlfriends. Notice that all of these items are of the highest quality - there is no plastic, tin plated toys, or junk like you will find in one of those back alley sex shops. All of the binders are stainless steel, the wood is mahogany. The golden items are genuinely thick plated, 22 carat gold. I spare no expense in making this type of gear."
He was speechless as I led him back to my office. "As you said, any transaction we have will be confidential. I would ask that you treat the exotic part of my business the same. There is nothing illegal here, but local attitudes are such that..."
"Certainly, sir," as he finally came back to life. "I'll be happy to keep your... business between ourselves. I'm just astonished to find a supplier of things for my hobby, as you say, locally. Usually I have to order such items from California. And nothing I have purchased so far comes close to your quality."
I nodded my thanks. "Now back to your item. I can certainly make it to order, however, I will need the measurements of the woman who will be wearing it." I naturally assumed that this would be a woman since homosexuality had yet to make it out of the closet, generally - especially in the South. "If she wants to come in for a fitting that will be fine, but I understand that she may be hesitant to pose for such a personal item of wear. Otherwise, I will need her wrist, ankle and neck sizes."
He pulled out a notebook, ripped out a page and handed it to me. "Ah... These look satisfactory. Just one other thing, is this item for show, or do you want it to be totally inescapable?"
"Yes sir, I want it real."
I nodded. "Very well, the bracelets and collar will be stainless steel, the chain will be light, but of unbreakable chrome plated welded links. I will also supply you with five small, but very secure plated locks of the same strength as the chain." I stopped for a moment as I calculated. The cost to you for this item will be..." I named a price that was obscenely expensive, but you have to pay for quality.
He didn't even hesitate. "When will it be ready?"
"Any time after Wednesday you can pick it up. You may bring the woman for a fitting if you want - in private, of course - she doesn't even have to meet me."
We shook hands, and as he turned to leave, I said, "One other thing... If you should happen to have friends or acquaintances who might need other such... devices for their entertainment, please give them my address."
"Certainly sir. Good day to you."
Thats how it started. He was ecstatic over the sirik when I handed it to him. He also purchased a large number of personal items that he had seen on the last visit. Later, he came in with other orders for this or that.
The word slowly spread, and I began to pick up a clientele of B&D customers. Not many, but very exclusive. This was a time that far predated the Internet, so all research had to be done at the local adult book and magazine stores. I had a huge stack of fairly sleazy BDSM magazines that I perused through to get ideas for new items. The bracelets and collars were such standard items, that I just always stocked them in various sizes. But all else was made to order. Some things got fairly far out.
My first and still favorite girl friend, Cindy - also laid off, like me - I had set up with a small hair dressing shop - The House of Woman. I didn't understand the need for such things, but she made a go of it and paid me back in short order. As an aside, she also specialized in piercing - mostly ears, since this was long before the time of visible skin jewelry. But she came in handy on the infrequent occasions when a woman's nipples or labia needed holes.
Business was really picking up. I finally had to put on an employee to help with the regular industrial work. I went through three machinists before I found one who would work to my exacting tolerances. Sam was his name and he was fairly elderly, about forty, didn't move very fast because of an old Korean war wound, but followed my specifications to the last ten-thousandth. I never had a problem with his work, and paid him well as a result.
A new customer came by one morning to make an appointment. That night he brought his sub, dressed but wearing a full hood - deaf, dumb and blind. He ordered a metal bra, or halter for her. In those pre-computer days, that was something that couldn't be put to blueprints. I wondered how to create those compound curves in metal without having her available all during the manufacturing process. We finally hit on the solution. He procured one of her bras, we took her into the display room and tightly bound her to a vertical pole - actually a four by four mahogany post set in a platform that allowed a sub to be attached in various ways for use. Then the bra was soaked in wheat paste, a fan was placed in front of her, and she was left to dry. A few hours later, the bra was rock hard and when removed was a perfect pattern.
A few weeks later, he came back and wanted me to build a clit shield, but one that left her pussy open for use. That was a puzzler, and I told him that I would have to do some research. Later, when I had my girl strapped down to a rack, with her legs up and spread, I began looking into the problem. And other things.
A chastity belt would do the job of covering her fun button, but he wanted to still be able to use her, while denying her the ability to pleasure herself when he was gone. I played with a waist belt, with descending straps down on either side off her pussy and back up. But it seem to be way too much to cover such a little spot. Finally, I got Cindy in on the research. It was she who came up with the solution, assuming that the guy wanted to do it that way.
I called the customer in for a consultation, and he immediately agreed. In fact, he was ecstatic. After all, the pain wouldn't be his, just the problem of his worthless sub. So, I built the first small piece, which was nothing more than a small bent barbell piercing about an inch long. The sub was delivered to Cindy's shop, taken into the piercing room, and three small holes made in her twat, one just above where the crack began, and the other two about a third of the way to her pussy hole, through the lips. Sterile inserts were used to let the wounds heal, and the time would allow me to build the other item.
A month later, all four of us were in my bondage display room - my customer and his sub, myself and Cindy. We strapped the sub to a convenient rack, spread her legs, and Cindy inserted the stainless barbell in the hole at the top of her crack. The ends stuck out about a quarter inch on each end, and then had threaded balls screwed on and made permanent with thread lock. Then a cupped piece of metal was slid down over the barbell, slots in it made to just fit the barbell shaft. A small and delicate lock was then threaded though a pussy lip hole, a hole in the bottom of the metal clit cover, then though the lip on the other side. When locked, her little joy button was totally inaccessible by any fingers.
She was quite a sight in her metal bra, collar, wrist and ankle bracelets, and the little cover between her legs. The customer was quite happy, but what I wanted him to do was leave, immediately. I needed to strap my own bitch down and relieve some serious pressures in my cojones.
I became friends with one of the adult video shop owners, and he referred any special orders to me. In this way, and by word of mouth, knowledge of my alternate business began to spread. How far, I began to realize when a pair of detectives showed up one morning. They saw my machine shop, my office and nothing else. It wasn't a raid, just a checking of certain rumors that they had heard. I was honest with them, and said that I had made many sexual devices for customers to their specification. Nothing illegal about that. Neither was the use of the items, as long as the recipient was willing. I emphasized that this was a machine shop, not an adult toy store and I would make anything that a customer would pay for as long as it wasn't patently illegal.
They seemed satisfied, but after talking with my new adult store friend, I realized that the problem was just starting. He said that the real harassment would come at next election time as the local district attorney and associates looked around for a campaign theme. I decided that some pre-planning was in order.
Back at the shop, I opened the dusty door leading downstairs. The basement was a filthy mess, partially full of disintegrated cardboard boxes, packing materials, rat droppings and just junk. A single bare bulb didn't help to show much. It was big, probably as big as the entire upper building floor. Along one wall, a four foot square hole in the floor had a rusted steel ladder bolted into the wall and leading down - a sub basement. I knew it was there from the inspector's notes - I had hired him before I purchased the place to make sure I wasn't buying a crumbling disaster. Then I had totally forgotten about it.
My light didn't show much from the top looking down. Kicking it with my foot, I decided that the ladder was still serviceable. Down I went, about twelve feet to a dirt floor. This room was much smaller, about twenty by forty feet. The walls were concrete but the floor was just bare dirt. I could see round concrete patches in the ceiling and walls where sometime in the distant past some kind of utilities ran through here. For now, except for the pile of trash under the ladder where junk from the upper basement was kicked through the hole, the floor was bare.
My first thought, was that the basement could be the perfect place to store items that I didn't want found by some squad sent by a politician bent on getting reelected.
As I looked around with the flashlight, I noticed two areas of opposite walls, about door sized, that had been closed with mortared cement blocks. Did there used to be a utility tunnel between the buildings on this street? That was intriguing. After lunch, I was back down at the bottom with a sledge hammer and looking at the mortared up rectangle in the west wall. Just a few hits and several blocks fell out. Behind them was nothing but dirt.
The opposite wall was breached in minutes also, but behind it was only darkness. Shortly, I had knocked out enough blocks to enter a short tunnel, about five feet wide and eight feet tall. Old corroded brackets on the wall showed that this had to be a utility tunnel from decades past. In only about fifty feet, I came to another blocked up wall. I knew that it was somewhere under the vacant building next to me. I was leaving my property now, and technically trespassing, but since I was twenty or thirty feet below ground level, I doubted that anyone would notice.
I blasted though the blocks again. On the other side was another musky room, again about twenty by thirty. In this one, the access hole in the ceiling was cemented over. Again on the other side, was a blocked up portal. Jeez! How far did this thing go?
Through the next wall was a much longer tunnel. At least a hundred feet or so. It ended in the standard blocked up hole. I wasn't sure where I was now, so I didn't try to open it up. Instead, I returned down the tunnel and went back to the surface. Walking out on the street, I took a measure of what was to the east of my shop. The building next door was a brick structure, three stories and falling down. Next was a vacant lot that probably used to contain another structure like mine. Next was another cement building, but at least in as good a shape as mine. This one had a dry cleaner shop in on part of the ground floor. The upper two stories probably had once been offices, but from the look of them they were abandoned.
Cindy and I were, well, a pair. There was absolutely nothing in my makeup that desired a family, or kids, and in fact, years ago I had had a certain operation to make sure that I didn't father any. She was the same way, some what rare for a woman - she had no desire for a nest somewhere. I found out much later that she had had the same female operation for the same reason.
We were very close. I don't know if it was love. I'm not even sure that I would recognize the condition. We certainly liked each other tremendously, and spent much of our time together. But it was nothing exclusive. If she found some young hardleg that she just couldn't resist, that was her business, although I expected her to tell me of any technique that he might know that I didn't. Similarly, if some hot cunt came along, I could pump her without the guilt of violating a relationship. Cindy, might ask me how good she was, but that is all.
While I was totally straight, Cindy could enjoy a female relationship on occasion. In fact, a few times in the past, we both enjoyed another female in our bed together. Usually, it was her office manager, Mary.
Mary was quite a piece of work, especially for those times. She had a nice body, somewhat plump, but that just made her a soft lay. But her main feature, as long as the lights were on, were the tattoos that covered a large part of her body from her neck to her legs. And this wasn't sailor ink, done in some dive on the wrong side of town. Actually, she did get them on the wrong side of town, but whoever did them, was an artist. They were really beautiful - multicolored and in context. On her back, a dragon rose out of a surreal landscape toward a magnificent vixen, with improbably high and large tits, chained to a rock. A knight, on her left side was galloping to the rescue. And so forth. She had a map of what her body would look like in a few years - Not a square inch of her body, except her face, would be blank.
On the front, her bare pubic area had a face of a demon, with an open mouth and a tongue where her slit was, so every time I was shafting her, it looked like the inked character was giving head. In fact, when Mary was in need, she would inform me that it was time to 'feed the pussy monster.'
With us, it was sorta like family life, without the family.
The idea of the underground tunnel fascinated me for some reason. I knew that many big cities had extensive underground infrastructure, although most apparently were abandoned or in disuse by now. I spent time in the library, and in the city hall archives trying to find out more information. Very little was available. I found a picture of the old steam generation plant that serviced downtown and assumed that the tunnel was used for heat distribution as well as water and sewer.
Then I had an idea. From the archives, I found a list of customers for the old steam plant. Then I plotted their locations on an old map of the city. That showed me that the plant serviced the old downtown. It didn't give me a map of the old tunnels, but at least told me what old buildings they went under.
That afternoon, a woman, about thirty or thirty five, entered and asked for me. My employee called me from the back, and I invited her into my office. I knew what this had to be - dressed like she was, there was no way that she was going to ask for a bearing housing or a jackshaft. However, this was my first woman client for my alternative products - at least I assumed that. Heck, she could be canvassing for a donation for all I knew.
"Mr. Barton? Bob Barton?" She wasn't nervous or scared, but I could detect some uncertainty.
"That's me. How can I help you."
She looked around as I gestured to a chair. "Mr. Johnson said that you specialized in certain... wearable items made to order." Johnson was a client who purchased bondage stuff from time to time.
I got up and looked out the door, then closed it. It was more for show than anything else. Nobody else was around but Sam, my machinist, and after a lifetime of loud tool work, he would have trouble hearing us if he was in the same room. "Mrs... Miss...?" "Miss Laughton," she answered. "...Laughton. Confidentiality is my long suite, and there is nobody else around. I make sexual items for people to their specifications. I require cash for payment, and I keep absolutely no records as to who ordered what. I don't want to know your address. If anybody asks, I don't even remember seeing a woman of that description. Please speak freely."
"Thank you," she said. "Well... I would like a chastity belt. One comfortable enough to wear all the time. And lockable. Is that possible?"
This was a new one. The idea of asking for a sex toy that would prevent sex was... heck, I didn't know. Futile? Ridiculous? However, the customer is always right. "Hmmm." I mused. "Like a leather belt, or..."
"No! she interrupted. I want it made out of metal and totally unbreachable."
I shook my head. "Miss Laughton, even something made of the hardest materials in existence can be broken by anyone wanting to make the effort. However, a belt made of hard metal would defeat anyone who didn't have very special tools."
She nodded and obviously wanted to say something else. I waited for a few seconds, then said, "You have something else in mind, correct?"
"Could... Could it have a vibrator on my... over my...?" That was as far as she got.
I took over. "Miss Laughton. I can build anything you want, BUT..." I held up my finger and waved it. "One thing you have to realize and get used to is that we are going to be talking about some intimate parts of your body. Words like titties, pussy, asshole and others will be used. I have to examine and measure your body closely. And I have to touch certain parts of it on occasion. If any of this upsets you, then we can't do business."
She nodded without looking at me. "Yes, I realize that. It is just that I haven't quite... the reality of the situation hasn't quite sunk in yet."
I smiled. "I understand. And I will try to ease you into it slowly. One other thing. I am a normal man, and fairly young. The sight of a female body excites me and I can't do anything about that. I don't WANT to do anything about that. So if my body reacts to my examination or measurements of you, then that is just the way it is. I will, however, pledge to you that I will not use our association to hit on or take advantage of you in any way."
She nodded again.
"Now, you want a chastity belt, but one with a vibrator in a position that will massage your clit - or clitoris, just to be clearer. Correct?"
"Yes," she said. "Is that possible?"
I nodded. "The vibrator, certainly." I thought for a moment. "Where would the batteries go?" I mused. "You would have to be able to turn it off and on, so there would have to be a switch."
"Could you make it where it would come on at random times? In such a way as I would have no control? And not when I'm sleeping?"
Holy shit. What do you call these kind of women. Self masochists? Solo subs? After another fifteen minutes or so of conversation, I said, "I'll have to think about that. I'm not sure. What you are asking for is very unusual. I need time to experiment and see if what you want can be done. Can you come back for another consultation?"
She nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, of course."
"Just one other thing - I hate to mention it, but..."
She reached in her purse and handed me a piece of paper with the local bank's letterhead. "This is my balance at the Southern Bank."
I looked at it. Sumbitch! She could buy me with just the month's interest. "Thank you, Miss Laughton. It appears to be... ah... adequate."
I thought about it for a few minutes. "I'll do some research and give you some options. Can you come back at the end of next week?"
"Yes, say Friday?"
"Fine, I answered. "That will give me a week to do some planning." A thought popped into my head. "One other thing, Miss Laughton. This item will be a very intimate piece of gear. To reach your desire of being able to wear it permanently, I will have to fit it to you personally. Are you shy about being naked in front a man?"
She smiled and shook her head. "I doubt that you will find that I have anything you haven't seen."
After she left, I just sat there and thought. What the fuck is with these wom... Never mind. They are what they are. Back to her wants. As I said, the chastity belt and vibrator were no problem. But, where did the batteries go? Putting a battery compartment in the belt was going to start to make it bulky. It was going to show under even thick clothes. Using the pocket of the clothes was a problem. What she wore would have to have a hole to get a wire through, and it would have to be pluggable. Maybe I could stick it in her pussy, I joked to myself. Funny. An electric pussy.
Wait a minute. I thought about that for a while.
By now I had plenty of income and very little in the way of expenses. I decided to indulge myself on a whim. First, a trip to city hall to get a permit to do some renovations.
Before starting, I covered the hole leading to the basement with a large sheet of steel so as to hide the fact that it was even there.
My building was divided into front and back halves with a concrete block wall. The machinery business only occupied the front section and was even now only partially used. The back half was just empty and dusty.
A large freight door was installed in the back wall to allow trucks to enter from the alley. Also, a corresponding door was made in the divider wall. This I explained as a way to get supplies without them having to park in the street in front of my building while unloading. And as a matter of fact, that was the truth - just not all of it. Next, I hunted around and found a used traveling crane for sale which I then had installed in the back half of my building. The crane just happened to travel over the opening to the basement.
Finally, this phase was completed when I closed up all other accesses between the two halves of my building except for the new overhead door and one leading to my office. When these were locked, all access to the back half was prevented by anyone but me.
By moving the crane over the basement hole, I could lift the heavy plate of metal and allow access to the stairs. Clumsy, but this was a temporary solution.
At the local library, I looked up chastity belts. There wasn't much, just a few references and some line art pictures - that particular piece of history, in this area of the country, was obviously not something that was thought to be needed to be in a public library. I stopped in to talk to the adult store owner and asked if he had any info. He did. From the back he brought an old book with the title of "Sexuality in the Dark Ages." Promising to return it promptly, I headed back to the shop to peruse it.
A couple of hours later, I knew that not only was this going to be a major cut and fit job, it was going to take some heavy experimenting.
A trip to the wagon yard got me several illegal laborers. I paid them well and started them to cleaning out the basement. Of course, all this work was done at night and on weekends. It wouldn't do for Sam and my customers to wonder what the hell was going on in the back.
It was emptied of all trash, then washed down and a coat of white cement paint was applied to the walls and ceiling. When finished, it looked really nice - and BIG. A twelve foot ceiling and a huge expanse of floor as big as the whole building made it seem to be almost like an indoor sports stadium. Of course, the many concrete pillars holding up the upper floor/ceiling took away some of the feeling of expanse.
Next, the hole to the sub basement was lengthened and a real set of stairs installed to replace the metal ladder bolted to the wall. Again, the subbasement was cleaned up, although I didn't bother to paint it.
Again, I hunted around for used equipment. While purchasing the long conveyer that I needed, I also found a large surplus milling machine. As far as I was concerned it was a cheap imported piece of light duty junk, but I picked it up for a song - in fact, for the price of it as scrap metal. I had plans for it.
The crew started digging out the dirt in the west wall tunnel, after cleaning up the opening by removing all the rest of the cinder blocks that it had been closed with. The dirt was delivered by my new conveyer up both floors to a waiting truck. I was hoping that the tunnel wasn't fully filled in from there on. If so, then that part of the project would come to an end fairly quickly.
Miss Laughton showed up on Friday, late. I showed her some pictures and sketches and we agreed on a price. She was wealthy, or she would have been wasting her time. This product was going to be expensive. Monday, I ordered the materials I needed.
"Miss Laughton, don't take this the wrong way, but women are built differently from each other. I need to measure... ah... certain parts of your... ah... parts for..."
"Mr. Barton. We both know what we are here for, and neither one of us is a blushing virgin. Tell me what you need to do. As I said before, I doubt that I am going to show you anything that you haven't seen before. Feel free to look at anything you want."
I laughed, the ice broken. "Ok. I need to make some measurements. Specifically, I need the angle of your legs in the front, the width of your, well, your pussy at different locations. How far down from your waist your hole is, your waist size, the distance through your crack from the front to the back - well, several things. By the way, I will need your panties to use as a rough sizer."
She stood up and immediately stepped out of her skirt, then her pantyhose, and then lastly her panties. Then she stood up with her legs spread and said, "Measure away."
Shit! Man, what a sight! She was shaved, or depilated, and totally bare from the waist down, standing in front of me with both legs apart and telling me to get close and start working. Cindy's cunt was going to have a real workout tonight.
I got a cloth measuring tape, and a pad of paper and started. I put a little mark with an ink pen on her stomach and back at the bottom of where the waist belt would be, then ran a string from mark to mark through her crack. Fifteen minutes later, I was finished, but was rutting like a kid looking through a hole into the girl's shower room. Cindy was REALLY going to be sore tomorrow.
She looked at me for a minute, then, instead of getting dressed, started to unbutton her blouse. I just watched, wide eyed. Shortly a full bra was showing, then it too dropped on the pile of clothes on my desk.
She stepped up to me. "Mr. Barton. I feel that your condition is my fault and I need to help you alleviate it." My 'condition' was very visible and had my front pants tent poled. Since I almost always went commando, there was nothing to stop it, except my jeans. She reached for my zipper, and polite as always, asked, "May I?" I gulped and nodded. Zipppp! And out it sprang. Shortly, I had my clothes in a pile beside hers.
She began to kneel, obviously to began a little tongue action, but I took hold of her arm and said, "Wait." I pointed to the door in the rear wall of my office. "Come with me." She followed, no doubt expecting that I had a little room with a bed in the back. She was wrong - it was a big room.
I closed and locked the door behind us as she stood frozen, just looking around at the unbelievable assortment of bondage and discipline equipment on the walls and covering the floor. I just let her stand there and look until she got her fill. Finally, she looked around at me.
I just smiled and said, "I have a couple of girl friends that are into B&D. And building bondage apparatus has been a hobby of mine since I got out of the army."
She began to walk around and examine some of the items. She stopped. "A real medieval rack." She looked at me. "You made this? It looks like an original."
"Every bit made in USA by me. I just weathered it to look like it had been taken out of a dungeon somewhere."
She pointed. "Oh my God. Is that blood?"
"Looks like it doesn't it. Sometimes the torturer gets out of hand with his whip." As her eyes got wider, I chuckled and continued. "Not really. Just brown paint to look like the real thing. Some customers want a brand new piece of furniture - some want it to look genuine."
A while later, she came to a spreader table. "I assume that the woman lays back on this and her legs go up here?
I could tell by now that she was well turned on by the room. "Yep," I replied. "Do you want to try it?" She nodded. "Ok, turn around and lay on your back with your butt at the edge of the table." She leaned back as I walked around to the other side. "I don't know if you have ever been restrained before, but if you want loose, just say so." Another nod. I flipped the hinged collar over her neck and secured it with the turn bolt. Her beautiful and definitely non-saggy tits were rising and falling rapidly with her breathing. I then pulled her arms out from her sides and latched them in cuffs beside the two poles that rose from the table's edge beside her butt.
The poles were about four feet apart and stuck up about four feet above the table top. At the top were short chains and more cuffs. I lifted her legs that were dangling over the edge and fastened them into the steel manacles. Now she was well spread, with her legs pulled back with knees bent and her feet high above her. She could wiggle all she wanted, but nothing could be hidden or closed. I finally took my eyes off of her spread crack and asked, "What do you think?"
"God. This is unbelievable," she replied as she tested her bonds. "I feel so helpless."
"You ARE helpless, I guarantee," was my answer. "Nobody escapes from my equipment on their own. These aren't toys - they're the real thing." My eyes were back on her crack. "Do you want loose?"
"NO!" she answered, emphatically. "Let's go on with what we were about to do." That's what I hoped to hear. Before I could start, she hesitantly asked. "Don't you put one of those gags on the girl first?"
"Usually. Do you want one?" She nodded. I walked over to the wall and selected one that I thought would be good for a beginner. It was enough to keep her from speaking, but was soft and had air holes in it. I held it above her face, and asked, "Are you ready. You realize that once you have this on, you are mine to do with as I please?" Wide eyed and breathing hard, she nodded, but didn't speak.
"Open wide." She did, and I stuffed the ball in and wrapped the velcro straps around the back of her head. Gotcha! This pussy is mine for the next hour or so. Then, I dropped the waist half clamp in place, and secured it, followed by another plastic band across her forehead and attached to the table. Her movements were now restricted to moving her knees and elbows somewhat, but she could no longer nod or move her head. This was as far as I wanted to take her - any more restrictions on moving could rapidly become oppressive to a beginner. I didn't want her tortured, just hooked.
"Gosh, Jill." I looked at her. "I assume that since I am now so familiar with your body, I can call you Jill?" All she could do was look, but I pretended that she had given me permission. "Good. Uh-oh. I forgot something - sorry." I walked back over to the wall, then behind her. "A slave almost always gets a blindfold." Before she could digest that information, I had it over her eyes and velcro'ed on. It was showtime.
For the next fifteen minutes, I just used my hands. Up and down her body, arms and legs, but other than playing with her boobs, nothing intimate yet. Finally, I pulled up a stool and sat down at the end of the table, staring into that spread and beautiful crack. I traced a finger up and down, around her slit, but not yet anything serious. From this angle, I could see that her rapid breathing hadn't stopped. And from the prominence of her nipples and engorged pussy lips, she was really turned on. And I had hardly started yet.
I decided to bring her off before I got mine. So I started in with some major fingering, except that I didn't stick a finger up her asshole, just rimmed it a little. I had no idea if she was into sex in that area or not. Better to be safe this first time - what I hoped was a first time, I reminded myself. Finally, as I decided that she was ready, I reached around with both hands to roll her nipples, while my tongue gave her the full servicing of her pussy. In a while, her legs suddenly went rigid against the ankle chains, her arms tried to pull out of the manacles, and her body tried to lift against the waist strap. A gurgling "AHHHHHHH" managed to make it out around the gag. I continued for a few seconds more until she just went limp, then stood up.
I gave her a minute or so, them walked around beside her head and pulled the ball gag and blindfold off. "How was your first foray into bondage-land?" She was still breathing hard - almost gasping - but her smile told the answer. She tried to move her head over to look at my rock hard johnson, but only her eyes could move. Finally, she said, "How about you? It still won't fit into your pants."
"I bet I can find somewhere it will fit," I replied. And shortly, it was fitted quite well into a warm, wet, and wonderful place.
In about thirty feet, my crew broke through into - nothingness. The continuing tunnel. Once they cleaned up the last of the dirt, I paid them off, gave them a bonus and a song and dance about running new pipes and electricity from downtown.
Now I had to fix an access to my subterranean kingdom, but one that could not be located no matter what the search. I assumed that somewhere was a record of the old basements and tunnels in some dusty file cabinet. Probably in the tax office, but I was confident that I was probably the only person on earth who knew or remembered that they existed. That wasn't a problem. Hiding an access behind the usual pivoting bookcase, or trapdoor under a rug would provide protection from only cursory search. I needed something that would require the searcher to almost tear the building down.
I removed the loose piece of steel over the basement opening, then installed a thick steel floor plate, covering the opening completely. At one of the narrow ends, I attached some massive hinges, but built to my specifications - they didn't look like hinges - just big floor anchors. On the other end were two matching "floor anchors", but were non-working dummies. Now I had a hinged trap door to the basement, but not one that could be lifted by any reasonable number of humans.
On top of the plate, I installed the imported milling machine that I had bought earlier. The advantage of using the lower quality import was that the weight was much less than a full blown production machine. Now the only opening to the basement was covered by a real and working machine and was completely disguised from any search, short of tearing the building apart.
To access the underground, the overhead crane would be moved over one end of the milling machine, which would them be lifted along with the floorplate and would expose the stairs leading down. Of course, this entry could only be done at nights and on weekends since the whole operation was not exactly silent. Any use during a work day would have Sam and any customers wondering what the hell was going on in the back.
As an afterthought, I enclosed the staircase with walls and put a large one way mirror in the bottom door.
The flexible part of the chastity belt was totally made of stainless steel cloth. From a one inch wide belt that would eventually lock in the back, a Vee of steel mesh went down the front to just before where her asshole would be. At that point, a quarter inch steel braided rope was permanently connected and went up through the ass crack to attach to the belt in the back.
I took Jill's panties to a clothing supply and asked for a window dummy to fit them. Finally, a rough belt was ready and I called Cindy to model it for me. But, unfortunately, she was larger than Jill and the tolerances were too small. I had made the belt adjustable so as to get maximum comfort, but one thing that stainless steel does not do, is stretch.
The lock and mechanism took almost as long as the belt to build. It had to be very flat, since anything with a normal tumbler would stick out very noticeably - not to mention being very uncomfortable to lean back against. I made an unusual design with a tumbler on both sides, but only the two rather than five or six in a normal lock. But the keyway was strange, and would be difficult to pick just because it didn't follow any known lock design. But one thing for sure, it wasn't coming off without the key. Or a diamond cutting blade, which would be very dicy to use next to a woman's skin.
I called Jill and asked her to come back in.
I escorted her in, locked the door, and asked her to sit down. She sat there, looking both expectant and excited.
I sat down in front of her. "Jill," I started, "What you want built is going to take a while and some experimenting. First, let me say that I'm very interested in this... device" She nodded with a smile. "But, we may have to, as we say in my business, cut and fit for a while. It is very unlikely that I will build a chastity belt for you that works properly the first time." I leaned back. "After all, this isn't a passive piece of metal clothing that you will just strap on. It's a machine with moving parts."
"Fine," she replied. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with."
I picked up my notebook. "You want this to be inescapable by yourself, and to activate itself without your being able to start and stop it." She nodded. "Ok, here is what I have come up with." I looked at my notes. The belt will have to be a little thicker in the front than a normal chastity belt because it has to contain several things that the medieval ones didn't. The extra thickness will be below your Venus mound, so it shouldn't show under clothes. The vibrator will be no problem, but since it is a motor, it has to have power. To make this self contained - that is, so you don't have to carry batteries in your pocket and have to plug and unplug every time you change clothes, I have come up with this." I looked up at her. "Excuse me, but I have to get really graphical now."
"No problem. Go ahead."
"The hole in the front that allows you to douche will be a little under an inch wide. It will still be far too small for any penis to to fit, so you will still be protected. And here is the reason for the larger hole." I flipped the page to a drawing. "This is a battery holder, about five inches long but less than an inch wide. It will hold two double A batteries. This will be a seamless tube of stainless steel, to prevent injury in the rare event of a battery leakage. Also, the outside will be coated with latex to prevent irritation of the vaginal wall."
I waited for a question, but she just sat there looking at the sketch with barely concealed excitement.
"This unit will be locked in and unremovable without the key. But it still has to be made removable. There is the matter of your period, and the need to douche on occasion. Plus, research has led me to believe that the continual presence of a foreign object in the female vagina will eventually cause irritation. But, for your desire of... helplessness, you can prevent yourself from removing it, and stopping the vibrating process, by removing the key from your access. One way would be to mail it to a remailer. That would put the key out of your hands for a week or more. Anyway, we are a long way from that right now."
She was definitely excited, no doubt. "How long would the batteries last."
I shook my head. "Don't ask about details yet - I haven't even started on the mechanism. I wanted your yes or no before I started."
Immediately, she said, "The answer is yes. Let's go."
I stood up. "I need to take some measurements. "Take your clothes off and stand over here."
Without hesitation, she began to remove everything. I started to say that only her skirt needed to come off, but kept quiet. What the heck. Shortly, a very nice female body was standing in front of me - again
I pulled a complicated piece of metal construction off a shelf. I held it upright, and stepped up to her. Her eyes opened wide. "You already have it made!?"
"No, no," I replied. This is just the basic belt without the crotch fabric, adjusters, lock or any mechanism. I just need to fit it to you so I can cut it to size. Spread your legs." What a thing to say to a customer. I brought it up between her legs, asked her to hold it up on the sides, then marked the belt in the back with a pen. Then I pulled the ass cable up and marked it also. Removing it and setting it aside, I spread a blanket on the table, then put a pillow at the end. "Please lay down on here with your legs together." She did.
I took several measurements and sketches, then said, "Spread them wide." Her legs Veed out. I opened a shelf and pulled out a long narrow latex rod, rounded on the end. "Now... Jill, I need to insert this in your pussy so that I can measure to it, and get the position and angle of your vagina." She nodded and looked at the ceiling. Surreptitiously, I spread a little lube on the rod and inserted it slowly. By now, my mind was all business, and the fact that I had a very desirable female, with her legs spread, and a dildo sticking out of her twat, and on a table in my office, receded into the background. A strange thing, the human mind.
Finished, I pulled it out. Then, "Jill, I'm going to pull your upper lips apart so I can make sure of the location of your clit. I didn't take notes the last time I saw it. Ok?" Another nod. There it was, about average size. More measurements. "Ok, that's it. You can get dressed."
She pivoted up to a sitting position. She looked at me with a wry expression. "Well, I won't ever be embarrassed by visiting my gynecologist again." I wasn't sure how to take that, until she couldn't hold back the laugh. "Bob... As long as I'm undressed..."
When she finally left, after dark, both of us were exhausted and drained. In the case of myself, that was a literal statement.
I was really feeling excited, now. Armed with a pair of flashlights and a pen and pad for making notes, I entered my new domain to explore. The tunnel continued straight for at least a hundred feet. Finally, I came to an intersection with corridors running in all four compass directions. Unlike mine, this section of underground had pools of standing water and... oh shit! Rats. I immediately returned back to my own building, went up stairs to get a sheet of plywood and closed up the opening as tightly as I could.
That week, I built a steel door to fit the opening. One that was rodent proof. The tunnel under my section of street was rat free, mainly because of it's total dryness and the complete lack of anything to eat. The rats in the tunnel didn't bother me, but I definitely didn't want them to have access to my section and move in.
As soon as the basement was dehumidified, I moved all of my B&D products into it. This removed the risk of having the authorities find a large collection of what they considered to be disgusting perversions. Unfortunately, while the multi-ton trap door allowed secure access to the underground, it could only be used after closing for the day since the operation of the crane and clanking of metal could hardly be unnoticed even in a machine shop. It would only have taken a couple of times before anybody who happened to be in the front office would be wondering what in hell was going on back there. Plus, there was the problem of having to leave it open the entire time I was underground - also a major security problem.
So, it was only used to bring big items into and out of the basement and only at night or weekends. I needed another and much more unobtrusive entry.
The next item for Jill's belt was the little motor. It needed to be of the highest efficiency for maximum battery lifetime. It also had to be small in the scheme of things. A regular motor, even a tiny one was out of the question. It needed to be very wide but very flat. Some stuff in my catalogs was close, but not close enough. Finally, I found some specialized motors for some kind of medical machine. They were almost an inch and a half wide, but only a quarter inch deep. Using one of these, with a wide diameter for the stator and rotor, I got plenty of torque and they very power miserly. You don't want to know how much each one cost.
I advertised for and talked to several electronic designers before I decided on a young man who seem to like his work more than money. I gave him my specifications, some down payment money and left him to it.
During the next several weeks I explored my new underground. It became almost a new hobby. What I slowly found was a grid covering the downtown part of the old city, built over half a century ago. Some tunnels were blocked by dirt that was dumped into the hole from above whenever the old building was torn down and a new one built. Several had steel or concrete pillars piercing the ceiling and floor that were the foundation of the new high rise skyscrapers above. In a couple of places I could barely squeeze through between these pillars and the walls. The steam, water and whatever other piping used to exist was totally gone - almost assuredly removed for the scrap value decades ago. So far I had found no access to above at any other location. Virtually every opening that hadn't been filled with dirt, was closed with concrete.
I wondered if I was the only person who knew about this underground domain. There were probably old geezers still alive who had been engineers and maintenance workers who could remember when they used to come down here but I would bet that all of them would assume that the tunnels were long gone.
Jill was back for a fitting. She was bubbling over with excitement. This was just a test run of the hardware. The electronics weren't ready yet.
She stripped down, and I pulled the belt up her legs. I connected the rear cable, then snapped the belt together in the back. There was still no front to it yet, so her pussy crack was mostly visible through the triangle of steel. Except for the area over her clit. It was covered, and a curious circular round object was visible, being built into that part of the belt. The motor. It looked a lot like a thick half dollar piece stuck on the front of the belt.
There were a couple of wires sticking out - temporary, of course - just for testing purposes. I had a small box with two other wires sticking out that I connected to the belt wires. Here we go.
"Ok, Jill. I need to see if this gives the feeling you want. If not, then we will stop. Otherwise, we will try different settings to calibrate it."
She almost shuddered with excitement. She nodded, vigorously.
On the little handheld box, I flipped a switch. "I want to know when you feel a low level of stimulation." The tiny motor was totally silent, since it didn't turn very fast compared to the normal motor in, say, a cassette deck. The motor shaft had a small bump that acted as a cam which caused a small piece of rubber to move back and forth. How fast depended on the voltage to the motor.
I turned the knob to feed a few hundred millivolts to the windings. She immediately stiffened, here breath was sucked in, and her eyes widened. I made a note of the voltage, then flipped the switch off. I looked at her.
"Oh my god. That was a low level?" I nodded. This was a direct stimulation of the clitoris, so naturally it was more intense than just rubbing it.
"Did it feel uncomfortable?" Some vibrators can overstimulate to the point of being painful.
"What? No! It was wonderful."
"Ok, hang on a minute. I need to recalibrate. It appears that a much lower range of stimulation is in order." I turned the box over - the bottom was missing for ease of change - and with a soldering iron, moved a wire further along a chain of diodes. "Here we go again. Feel that?"
She shook her head, sort of apprehensive at the expected stimulation. Another notch on the rotary switch. Another shake. Click, to the next position.
She nodded. "Ok, I can feel sort of a... a... well just a pleasant... I don't know. It feels good but is very gentle." Ok, that would be the low setting. I turned it off to let her come down a little.
In a few minutes, I readjusted and turned it on again.
"The same thing. A gentle rub." Up a notch. Then another. Her legs began to twitch. "Ok, that is much more intense. It wouldn't take long for me to come at that rate."
"I need to find the point at which it stops being pleasurable, and starts being painful." I turned it up again. She jumped. "Bad?" I asked. I could tell from her face that it wasn't, even before she shook her head. Another click. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and she moaned. Ok, that setting would be the high end. Just for my fun, I left it going. Actually, it wasn't just for my fun. She was in heaven.
Sure enough, with her nipples engorged into marbles, she drew in a deep breath, threw her head back and fell into a thrashing orgasm. As soon as I saw it wind down, I turned the switch off. I busied myself with my tools to give her a chance to compose herself as her muscles jerked in the post orgasm contractions. I wasn't sure what she was going to feel as she wound down - having just been forced to have an orgasm in front of a casual mail acquaintance.
In a few minutes, she was composed, but not embarrassed. "My, god. Is that what will happen when it goes off?"
I nodded. "Actually, my design is, if my electronics person comes through, that you will get a random stimulation at different times. The level of the stimulation and the length will also be random. It might just be a low level that makes you frustrated and horny. Or one like the one you just had that makes you lose control. Or anything in between."
I was getting enough business from the now recovering economy to have to hire another machinist. And I had to get a part time secretary from one of those temp agencies. Sam made sure that the new guy, Billy, was clued in to my absolutely no defects method of operation. Times were good and the money was good and getting better. I thought about using the adult sex store to sell my wares, but decided that my type of clientele, while they had no problem entering a machine shop, probably wouldn't want to be seen entering a store selling sexual ware. Back then, the idea of an adult purchasing sex toys was not in the mainstream, yet. In fact, back in my home state, even dildoes were illegal to sell.
But, I still got an ever increasing stream of upper level customers who wanted custom equipment. I was thinking about putting out a catalog, but hesitated due to the idea of it being hard evidence of what I built.
I got a call from my electronics designer that the prototype was ready, if I wanted to see it. I jumped in my truck and zoomed over to his lab - actually, a garage behind his mother's house. My first impression was that my client would have to carry it in a backpack, then I remembered that it was a prototype, made large so that it could be modified easily.
He showed me how it worked, or at least gave the the theory. I can handle electricity, and motors, switches - heck, I have even made small circuits with transistors, but I was not an electronics wizard.
He pointed to a little chip clued to the circuit board. "This is actually the chip out of a digital watch. It handles the timing." Some wires were pointed at. "These are the jumpers that set the length of the random time. There can be one of four settings. Four, eight, sixteen or thirty-two hours."
"I don't understand," I said, shaking my head.
"Ok. From your specs, nothing can happen between the hours of 10pm and 7am. During that time, this chip holds the circuitry reset. Now, if the four hour jumper is set, there is a chance of an event happening during the next four hours, then during the time of the next four hours, until the circuit is reset at night. In other words, you could have several events a day. Probably two to four. Follow?" I nodded.
"If it is jumpered to eight hours, then you will have an average of half that many events per day. On sixteen, now you are down to the possibility of having no events that day. Actually, the real probability is that you will have a single event on the average of every two days. And on thirty-two, one every four days."
"Got it. Sounds good."
"Now, when an event is indicated, then this line will have a voltage applied that can be anywhere from the minimum to the maximum and anything in between. And it will stay active for a random length of time. This resistor controls that. Could be anywhere from fifteen seconds to five minutes."
He looked at me. "What do you think."
"So far, it looks great. I need to take it with me so I can do some testing."
Cindy and Mary were my guinea pigs. Whenever I came up with something new, one of them usually got to wear it all weekend. It was Cindy's turn. The latest device was just a bar that connected to both ankles and kept her legs stiffly spread. In the middle of that bar, another one was welded and rose vertically up to where it ended with a long dildo that was stuck up her asshole. Since it was installed with her legs straight, there was no way for her to get enough slack, as it were, to remove the dildo. As she walked around, spraddle legged, the dildo would massage her butthole vigorously.
After about an hour, she complained that she had tested it long enough. Since I hate whining women, I chained her arms to the ceiling, strapped a gag in her mouth, then went to a movie and out to a good dinner. When I got back, much later, I decided that since her legs were already spread, she probably wouldn't mind me using the open hole in the front. Eventually, I got around to removing the spreader and plug, fed and watered her, and chained her to my bed for the night. A couple of whops with a strap shut off the complaints about the day.
Mary was into pain with her bondage, and as time went on the desire increased. Cindy liked pain from the standpoint of being forced into something, but it didn't take much to make her do whatever I wanted. But Mary's taste increased over time until her lashings and whippings were just shy of causing blood. When she was in the rack, she would scream bloody murder around her gag, but when it was over, she would usually tell me that I hadn't turned the winch enough - and ask why didn't I stripe her with the crop while I had her helpless? So I gradually cranked up the severity, but always cautious that I didn't cause real damage. In fact, after watching her and Cindy play with the medieval stretch rack, I installed a friction clutch on the wench so that it couldn't pull past a certain force. I was afraid that Cindy, sitting on Mary's face and leaning over and tightening the ropes, would go too far while in the throes of passion.
Mary came back from the tattoo artist with even more of her skin covered with beautiful ink. This time, her right arm was getting the treatment.
Back at my shop, I rigged up one of the small motors to where it would vibrate against my arm when it was activated. I playfully toyed with the idea of strapping it to my dick, so I could enjoy the random stimulation, but I knew that a vibration that a woman would consider stimulating, would barely be felt by a male. Oh, well.
The electronics and the battery pack I put in my pocket and carried around all day. I had the random time set on minimum, so as to have it activate as often as possible. It actually worked. The kid was good. Suddenly I would feel a sensation on my arm, that might go on for seconds, or for minutes. Then a half hour, or four hours later it would happen again, but this time barely feelable. After a day of testing, the next day I put it on the sixteen hour mode, which is what Marie would probably want. Just like he said, nothing happened that day. In fact, it was well into the evening of the next day and I was about to decide that it wasn't working, when suddenly the little motor massaged me for about two minutes.
After a week of testing, I had a couple of things to change, but gave him the go ahead to miniaturize it, based on my drawings.
Just like my friend in the adult store warned, I was served with a warrant for possessing materials inimical to the public moral good. Then a patrol carload of detectives looked all over the premises, finding nothing but a collar and four bracelets that happened to be on my desk. They looked around the shop for awhile, but of course never realized that the stuff they were looking for was about twenty feet down.
On the advice of my attorney, we immediately sued the city in Federal court for violation of my first amendment rights. A suit that he admitted that we would not win, but that it was necessary for the powers-that-be in the city to realize that anytime I was pushed, I was going to push back. And always in the back of the minds of the city attorneys, was the possibility of my suit resonating with a jury and a judge and suddenly presenting the city with a substantial bill to be paid. It had happened before.
Ring!... "Hello." Jeezus, what the hell time was it?
"Is this Mr. Bob Barton?" A woman's voice.
"Are you kin to a Miss Cindy Stafford?"
Oh Fuck! What is this? "No. She doesn't have any family. I'm her partner. What's happened?"
"She's been injured in an incident at work."
"At 2 am? Where is she? Who are you?"
"This is emergency admitting. Chestford Hospital." A pause. "May I list you as closet relation, or acquaintance?"
"Yes. I'll be right down."
An incident? What the hell was an incident? Was that an accident? How the hell could she be hurt in a woman's fix-up and goop shop? The most dangerous thing in there was scissors. I told myself not to get into the frantic mode of trying to break my neck getting to the hospital. If she wasn't ok, then my running people off the road to get there five minutes earlier wasn't going to help her a bit.
When I got to the emergency room, they were still working on her. Naturally, they couldn't or wouldn't tell me anything. But, there was a police office standing outside.
"Excuse me, officer." He looked up. "Are you here for Miss Stafford?"
He tilted his head toward the emergency room. "You mean her? Yes."
"You her husband?"
I shook my head. "No, she doesn't have family. I'm her business partner."
"Apparently a couple of broads knifed her for the till. Workers. Her workers I mean. Sorry, thats all I know for the moment."
What the fuck? I went over in my mind the girls who worked for her. I couldn't imagine any of them able to stick pins in a doll, let along carve up the boss.
A couple of hours later, a resident Doctor finally stopped long enough to give me a little scoop.
"Are you her husband?" What the fuck is with the relationship crap? What difference does it make? Again, "No. She has no family. I'm the closest you are going to get. Her business partner." Not exactly true, but fuck them.
"She has a deep wound on the cheek. Fortunately it missed her eye. She'll recover but she'll not be going home for several days. Excuse me."
A nurse saw me and came over. "She's out for the night. Why don't you come back in the morning. Sitting here all night isn't going to help anything. She's going to be ok."
The next morning, as I waited I saw a couple of cops leaving the room. They didn't have uniforms on, but they might as well have been wearing big badges that said "Flatfoot."
"Mr. Barton. You can go in now."
"Yo, kid. Whasup?"
"Bobby!" she drew the sheet over her head, but I could tell it wasn't serious. "God, don't look at me. I look like a two dollar whore after 'crossing her pimp."
I pulled the sheet back down. "You look fine. Besides, you know I never look at this end anyway."
We gabbed for a while, then I asked, "Ok, who did this and when."
She got serious. "I closed down as usual, then went out to eat with Mary. When I got back to the shop, I was worried that I hadn't turned off the wax melter - I got a new case of wax today - I mean, yesterday - and I had been pouring it into the small molds." Like me, she lived over her business - on the nights when she wasn't tied to my bed, that is.
"I went in the front door, instead of the side." The stairs leading up were on the side. "As I entered my office, I saw June and Cathy trying to pry the door off my safe." Her safe was just a cubby hole with a wooden door where she kept checks, receipts and a few bucks for petty cash. "I said or yelled something and June jumped at me with a knife. Then they were gone."
"How did you get here? I mean, who called the ambulance?" This was long before 911.
"I did. I dialed the operator and told her." She sighed. "Thats about all. Well, not exactly all. Wait till you see my face - I'll make a great corpse on Halloween."
"Horseshit," I retorted. "They can sew up anything here. If it heals with a scar, we'll just have it removed by a plastic surgeon."
She was feeling pretty punk - more worried about the state of her looks than anything else. I told her that I would open her shop starting Monday, and close it in the evenings. And make sure that Mary, her main assistant, ran things ok. After a while, she started to run down and nod off. I left, deciding I would return that evening.
As I walked through the lobby, I was hailed by someone. Looking around, I saw that it was the cop from last night. "Mr. Barton." I walked over. "They caught those two bitches this morning."
"Shit," I said. "That was quick work."
"Well, these weren't the brightest cunts in the area. Hitting your own place of work is dumb. So is going home after a crime."
"Thanks," I said. "If you had to guess, what do think they will get?"
He shook his head. "Maybe two to five. And probably spend six months, actually."
"Great," I said with disgust.
"Hey," he replied with considerable sarcasm. "Be glad they were caught in Texas. In some northeastern states your partner would probably be on her way to jail for being a victim."
A couple of nights later, the phone rang again. A male voice this time. "Barton?"
"A word to the wise. If your broad identifies them, or testifies in any way, she's a dead bitch. Got it?"
I was taken aback for a second as what had been said finally soaked in. Then I instantly boiled over, then went into superheat mode. But, I squashed it. I knew better than to ask who was calling. Instead, I said, "I can't take advice from some pussy on an anonymous phone call - only dudes with the balls to talk to my face." He hung up.
That ruined the night for me. Pissed off didn't even begin to describe it.
The next morning, after visiting Cindy, I headed west to the sister city. Driving up to a house in the not so good part of town, I knocked on the door. An old woman answered.
"Hi, Is Shive around?"
"You a bill collector?"
"What? No. He and I were buddies in the army."
"Try down at Jillards."
"The pool hall. 'Bout two blocks that way."
"Thanks. If he comes back, tell him Barton is looking for him."
The pool room was typical low rent. Dark, smokey, guys with no jobs hanging around. As my eyes got used to the darkness, I looked around for my buddy. I didn't see him. I walked over to the barkeep and asked, "Hi. You seen Shive here lately.?"
He stopped wiping the counter for a second. "You a bill collector?" Jeez. He must owe everybody in town.
"Nope, just an old army buddy," I replied. "Might have a job for him."
He pointed to a door in the back. "Knock three times."
Knock Knock Knock. The door cracked open. A face appeared - not one that I would want to see in a dark alley.
"Looking for Shive." The door opened and I stepped in. There was a card table, four guys around it, and a couple of kibitzers. Folding money and showing cards. Obviously poker. I watched as the hand went around, and finally saw who I was looking for. Nobody at the table even looked up when I entered. I knew that interrupting a serious five card draw was probably worth my life, so I just kibitzed also.
Some guy picked up the pot with three eights. Then the doorman said, "Yo, Shive. Company."
He looked up, then around and finally settled on me. Then suddenly his face lit up and then he was pounding my back. "Bart ole boy. Goddamn. What the hell you doing here?" A few minutes of good ole boy conversation ensued, then I asked to talk to him on the QT. We stepped out to the bar.
I told him what had happened and what I wanted. And was he interested?
"Hell, for money I'll do anything. I 'spect I can help. Where's your pad?"
I started giving directions, then he stopped me. "Sorry, bro. I don't have a car. Well, I did, but..."
Hmmmm. "You still got a valid license."
"Oh hell, sure. Just no wheels."
"Ok," I started. "I'll give you my truck. What the heck. If you do this for me, I'll sign the title over to you." I needed a bigger truck anyway.
He would probably steal it after the job was over anyway. Shive, I remembered, was totally untrustworthy outside of a mission. He would steal your last clean shirt for inspection, your money if he could get hold of it, even your woman if she would go with him. But, if it was a dark night in a bad place, he would die defending your back.
That afternoon we were at my quarters making plans. That evening he reported back. "Their bail is twenty five thousand dollars each," he said. Not a small sum in the 1970's. I knew that to get out they would have to put up ten percent to a bondsman. It would cost me five grand for the both. I peeled off the money and he left again.
I went out to get a new vehicle, then stopped by a shop for a little insurance, in case my ball-less caller decided to show his manhood around my place. The insurance came in a twelve gauge with a pump action.
Cindy got released the next morning and I drove her back to my quarters in my new truck. She was ok, but really sensitive about her face and what it was going to look like. I knew that I had to shortstop any depression that might come along with the sight when the bandages came off. Her shop was working normally, if a little short handed. I told her assistant, Mary, that I expected it to be run just like the boss was in the back room. And if she ran it satisfactorily during this mess, then I would be very appreciative, in a practical way - like with green stuff that folded.
Late that night, there were three knocks on the door. It was Shive. "Yo bro. Kin I show you something." I told Cindy I was going out for a little while and followed him down the stairs.
My... His truck was pulled up at my side door. I walked around to the bed and looked at a lumpy tarp covering the bed. He pulled it back to show the motionless bodies of two girls. The two bitches, no less. But, were they dead, drunk, asleep? That could wait for later. "Let's get them inside."
In a few minutes, both were laying on the floor of my office. I was prepared for them, with a hog-tie X bar for both. And two gags. Shortly, both weren't going anywhere even if they woke up.
We walked down the street to a two bit bar, ordered and sat down. "Ok, spill it," I said.
Taking a deep swig of his beer, he started. "Man, there is one bail bondsman who is going to be pissed in a few days."
"Does he know who you are?"
Another swig. "Nah. The license I showed him isn't mine. He did write down the license plate of the truck."
"Shit!," I exclaimed. "Why did you drive it to the bond office."
"Hey bro, relax. You're an expert in your stuff. I can handle my end."
"And..." I insisted.
"Well, if you had bothered to look, you would have seen that the plates on your truck aren't the ones it started the day with." Another swig. "I swiped a pair and switched them out before I left. Anyway, it took all day for them to get released. On the jailhouse steps, I gave them the song and dance about the bigwig who was paid their bail." He stopped as a barmaid walked up, switched out our bottles and dropped off two more - even though mine had less than two swallows gone.
"They were curious as hell, but were willing to wait to see the big dude tonight. To pass the time, I bought two six packs of cold beer. We sat in the truck and talked. A couple of their bottles had were fixed with mickeys." Chloral hydrate, I assumed. "They should wake up by morning." He leaned over and quietly asked, "They carved up your woman, huh. You going to waste 'em? Cut 'em up? What?"
I shook my head.
"Shame to waste two good looking cunts, but I would never trust one who showed that she was too ready with a shiv." Actually, it had been Cindy's own letter opener, but he didn't need to know those details.
Shortly, I said, "Time for bed, besides I have to check on Cindy. You can sleep at my place tonight."
"Hell no, man." he answered. "The night is still young and my johnson hasn't been stroked yet. I'll find a place to crash - preferably between a couple of legs."
I nodded. "Ok, come by tomorrow. We'll go down and re-register the truck in your name, and I'll give you your stash." With that, I headed back to the shop.
Before I went to sleep, I needed to do something first. I lifted the trapdoor, hauled both unconscious bodies into the room, then descended into the basement. It only took a few seconds to strip their clothes off, especially since I didn't care about damage.
I had already made it ready for them, with a single bare light bulb hanging down and a big bucket for them to poop and piss in. And most importantly, a pair of chains connected to a big eyebolt sunk into the concrete wall. On the end of the chains were two open collars, made by yours truly, and just waiting for a pair of female necks. I closed one around her neck and snapped the lock shut. A few minutes later, her partner was laying beside her. I rolled both over on their backs and spread their legs. Nice looking. I would enjoy stuffing both of those cunts as time went on.
The last thing I did was set a large bottle of water within reach.
Cindy wanted to go back to work the next morning. It was probably a good idea so I drove her down the street, even though it was within easy walking distance. She opened up and I watched for a while, then headed back to my place. Shive finally showed up, I paid him well, drove down to the courthouse and transferred the truck. I said I would contact him when I found the other information. The last I saw of him was the truck heading west with a young cunt next to him.
I wondered how the two bitches were doing. Probably hungry by now.
The actual electronics unit, and a spare showed up. Actually, it was brought over by the kid. Once I called Jill, she cut short her business, whatever it was, and zoomed over.
I held up the completed belt, a gleaming symphony of stainless steel strap and mesh. She stepped into it and I snapped it shut and locked it. She walked around for a few minutes, testing it. It was slightly tight in the waist, so I let it out one notch. At her approval, she waited to see the piece de resistance. Actually, what she thought was the stimulation mechanism was only the battery pack. The actual miniature electronics were under a plate below the motor and above the piss screen.
She lay back on the table, and spread her legs. Through the almost inch wide vagina hole, I could see her crack and the opening of her pussy. I lubed the long cylinder, now coated with latex rubber, and began to insert it into her. The electrical connections from the battery pack were a design problem. For one thing, pussies are always wet, and wetness and electricity don't mix. Not that there was the slightest danger involved - the two batteries only put out three volts - but wetness corrodes wires. Pee on the other hand, not only corrodes wires, but eats the hell out of them.
I solved the problem, I hoped, by using the belt itself as one conductor, and hand making a stainless wire for the other. This was inserted into a tiny, liquid proof (I hoped) connector next to the hole. Lastly, a plug made to fit into the hole, then rotate into place like a bottle cap, was installed. At the back of the little round plate was an eye for a small padlock, and a matching eye on the belt. I locked it.
I stood back and looked. It had the overall appearance of a normal chastity belt, but was a little bulkier here and there. It wouldn't stay hidden under tight slacks, but under normal female clothes it would be invisible.
"Ok, turn it on," encouraged Jill.
I took her hand and helped her to stand up. Her titties bounced as she dropped off the table. "Turn it on?" I scoffed. "Listen, lady. There's no switch. It can't be turned off without this!" I held up the key.
Her eyes were sparkling, and her overall demeanor was... well, like she was expecting a special package at any time. I asked her to put her clothes on, then for her to follow me outside. "Lets walk over to Harrods for some coffee, or something."
As we walked, she was fidgety, nervous, always looking around. "Are you ok?"
She laughed. "Yes. I am just imagining everyone looking at me and wondering why I'm wearing this contraption."
At the coffee shop, we relaxed in a booth. She was still bouncing up and down, emotionally. I explained the overall workings and maintenance of the belt. "Your biggest problem is going to be taking a pee." At her quizzical look, I continued. "It is going to splatter out the mesh at the front, and probably try to run down your leg."
She smiled. "Well, that's my problem. We females have never been as conveniently equipped for taking a whiz as you men."
She looked around, nervously wondering if anyone was watching. "When will it go off?"
I smiled and shrugged. "Who knows? It's totally random. It will trigger on the average of one and a half times a day. I can set it to happen more or less often, but you need to try this setting for a few days before we change it. It won't go off at night, between ten at night and seven in the morning is all we know for sure." I waggled my finger at her. "Just remember, that it has no memory. I said that on the average it will go off once a day or so. The keyword is average. But, it could trigger again one minute after it finishes the previous one.
"Now listen carefully. It's important that you realize that it may go off while you are driving. If it does, you need to pull over immediately. Understand." She nodded. "When it does trigger, you may just get a warm feeling, or it may rock you to an orgasm in seconds, or... anything in between. It can go off at anytime, including when you are standing in front of someone." I took a drink. "I've never had experience with iron underwear, but if I had to bet, you are going to itch and chafe for a few days until your skin gets used to it. Just be sure and pull different areas away from your skin when you shower or bathe so water can get under it."
We sat and watched the people going by outside. I let her just sit and think about her new toy.
Back at the office, she refused the keys. I looked at her in confusion. "If you agree, I will use you as my key holder. When I need it off, I will come to you and beg. You can set any price you want on the service - money or otherwise."
That evening, before I checked on Cindy at her shop, I went back down to the basement - actually, now a beginning dungeon - with a couple of pieces of fried chicken. As I stepped down into their view, the one who saw me first almost screamed, but she choked it off. Then they went through just about the routine I expected.
"YOU!" shouted Cathy as she recognized me. "You son-of-a-bitch! Take these chains off RIGHT NOW!" Her partner seconded the demand with much the same language. I was still pissed as hell at them, but I had promised myself not to permanently damage either one, although a few nights ago I would have cut off and fed their tits to them, bite by bite.
But for now, I settled for a little revenge. I stepped up to June, since she was the one who used the letter opener, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to the floor on her stomach. I began to whale her back and butt with a flat riding crop. Her anger turned to frantic screams, but I kept on till her voice began to weaken along with my arm.
Meanwhile, Cathy had backed up as far as her chain would allow. She wasn't calling me names now. As I stood up and advanced on her, she began to plead, "No! No! Please. Please. Please." The plea didn't work. Shortly she was being held down by the hair and copied her partner with a long series of shrieks.
I hadn't done a day's work in ages that gave me more satisfaction. I dropped the two pieces of chicken on the floor and left.
I began to work on the basement - first was lights, then water. A shower was placed in a corner, and lots of rings and tie points along the wall. I put a tank in the subbasement with a sump pump so as to have a place for waste water to go. Finally a hole was sawed in the floor as a commode. Unfortunately, these girls would have to give up the idea of sitting. Besides, some authorities say the squatting position is healthier anyway. Eventually, it was ready for equipment. This would be my bondage development and testing lab, soon to be provided with a pair of assistants who would test the effectiveness of each item.
Meanwhile, the two bitches had gotten a new attitude after that first night. Now they just pleaded, but left off any reference to my ancestry for sure. Pointing with the crop, I would give an order and they would immediately comply. I had them squat and piss in front of me. Or insert their finger in the other's asshole. Anything I could think of as I took a break from working. It was kind of fun.
My attorney dropped by. With some interesting news.
"Bob," he started as he pulled some papers out of a briefcase. "The judge has denied the motion of the city to dismiss your suit."
"Say what?" I was surprised. "I thought there was very little chance of it going forward."
"I have to say I'm as surprised as you. But this is a new judge - and a young one - and was appointed by the current administration. So he's a liberal. And they tend to take the individual's side against big entities." He held up a finger. "That doesn't me we are going to win big, or even win at all. Most of these get thrown out. Most of those that don't, lose the suit. And most of the few that win, only get legal costs and a modest award. But," he continued, "every now and then one comes up jackpot, like the one in California that bankrupted the city. That DA learned the hard way to stay within the rules. That is the important one that we need to remind them of."
"So what happens next?" I asked.
"An attorney will stop by. He's supposed to see me first, but he won't. They will try to get you to drop the suit, sign a paper to relieve them of liability, and tell you that they are graciously going to drop their complaint."
"And what happens when I tell them to fuck off?"
"They will try a few threats, then start bargaining again. Eventually you need to agree. You've made your point and they'll remember it. Unless you force their hand by selling little girls or heroin or the like, I doubt that you will be bothered again."
I came back from a trip to Houston - a business trip, quite lucrative - and noticed Mary's car parked in the lot. But, when I got upstairs, neither her nor Cindy were there. Whatever. After dinner and a little relaxing from being in the driver's seat for hours, I would head down to the dungeon for some frontal relief from my two bitches. But for now, I pulled a brew out of the 'fridge and sat down in front of the TV with my hamburger that I had brought in. But about halfway through the news, I kept hearing... something. I turned the TV down and listened - nothing. Back on it went.
Shortly, I stood up and listened again. I could have sworn I had heard a shout. There was no way that the girls in the basement could be heard, no matter what they did or what they shouted. Not with twelve inches of concrete and steel between them and the next floor. I went to the window and looked out. Maybe it was a mugging. Nope - empty street.
As I stood there puzzled, and trying to determine just what I was trying to detect, I heard it again. This time, with the TV off, there was no mistake. It was a scream. I quickly moved over to the bed, picked up my shotgun and made sure that it was loaded. Then headed down the hall in what I thought was the direction of the voice.
The upper floor was almost totally abandoned, except for my living quarters and a room in the back that was sort of a mini dungeon. Actually, it was just a windowless room that I had run some juice to for lights, and a few anchor rings in the wall and floor. We used it on occasion for play bondage - but not very often.
I had just gotten to the door, and the scream came again. Only this time I could hear Cindy's voice loudly ask, "Had enough, bitch?"
That was immediately followed by an unknown voice shouting, "YES! YES!", then by a loud whack and another scream. What the fuck? This door opened outward so I gently turned the doorknob and very slowly opened it a crack, pretty well knowing what I would find. Sure enough, there on the opposite side away from the door, Mary was spread eagled, face to the wall, in manacles, with Cindy standing behind her with a whip. An uninformed person would have called it a bull whip, but I knew that it was a shorter soft leather lash with turned edges. Given a woman's strength, it couldn't cut skin no matter how hard it was wielded, but that isn't to say that it wasn't incredibly painful. And they weren't playing. When Cindy struck, it was hard and Mary's leg and back muscles would jump like she had been electrocuted, and the scream she would let out wasn't fake either.
I watched for a few strokes, getting a massive hardon at the same time, then quietly closed the door and went back to my quarters. I sat down with the rest of my hamburger and thought about what I had just seen. Very interesting. Mary had turned into a real sub who was into real pain. There had been no playacting in the scene that I had just witnessed. In the back of my mind, I wondered if Mary would be a candidate for the position of real slave, two floors down.
I mused over that idea for a while, but it presented problems. If she disappeared, Cindy would go berserk wondering where she was. She might even call the police - they were close friends. The only option was to let Cindy in on the secret. She would love to have access to the two slaves down below - two criminals in the guise of friends that had knifed her one night in her own office, but I firmly believed that a secret known by one person is a secret. A secret known by two or more people, is news.
They obviously assumed that I wasn't going to return until later - that had been my plan - so I got dressed and went back out. A couple of hours in a bar down the street, from which I could see my parking spaces, gave them time to finish and for Mary to leave in her car. Then I "came home" and was greeted by Cindy in my bedroom. For some reason, she was ruttingly horny. She almost ripped my clothes off and dragged me on top of her without even a semblance of foreplay. But I didn't complain about being treated like a piece of meat - just let her wet it down and then slide it in.
Jill came back in. I invited her into my office and poured coffee. Closing and locking the door, I asked, "Well, is it the experience you were expecting."
"God, yes," she answered. "The psychological effect is overwhelming. When I'm sitting in a friend's home, or a coffee shop or anywhere there are people, all I can think about is if it is going to trigger while I'm talking to them." She took a sip. "And the overwhelming part is the knowledge that if it starts, there isn't a thing I can do to stop it." She gave what was almost a shudder. "I was eating in a hotel restaurant and it went off on a very high setting. The waiter almost called for an ambulance - he thought I was having a seizure. It was horrifying and wonderful, all at the same time."
I just smiled.
"Can you set it to trigger at a longer intervals? Otherwise, I'm going to have to stay home with the curtains pulled."
I nodded. "Yes. There are two lower settings. How far down do you want it to be?"
"Let's go to the lowest for now. We can move it if if that isn't often enough. The anticipation is as much fun as the actual vibration."
She disrobed and I removed the belt - the access to the electronics was from the inside. I soldered the jumper in a new place, then put in fresh batteries, although the old ones showed to have plenty of power left. She stood there waiting for me to reinstall it, then got a confused look when I just stood there and looked at her. "Whats's wrong, Bob," she asked.
"I'm sorry, Miss Laughton," I replied without a smile. "Company policy requires payment in advance for all services."
Now there was a twinkle in her eye. "Yes, of course, Mr. Barton." She pointed to my desk. "Will that do?" She walked over to the side of the desk, still stark naked, bent over it and spread her legs wide. I wasted no time moving up behind her, wetting my rod, and inserting it up her warm twat... battery compartment, I corrected myself.
This time she took the keys with her because she was going to be out of town for long periods of time. I cautioned her again to take the battery holder out during her period to give her vagina a rest during her period, and so she could douche properly.
The first installed item in my new basement dungeon, as opposed to the storage items, was just a tie post. This was just a square polished 4 x 4 inch mahogany post, eight feet tall and mounted in the middle of a six foot platform, also of wood polished to a high shine. Up and down this post were mounted rings that could be used to fasten a sub in any position. I unhooked June's chain at the wall, and towed her over to the pole. I made her lay down, then began to fasten bracelets on her wrists and ankles. These were locked on with small, but high quality padlocks. Finally, I pulled her to her feet, then fastened her to the tie post with her wrists hooked together and held at full stretch above her head. Then her ankles were hooked to a pair of bottom rings and finally, she was held fast to the post with a belt around both her waist and the pole. Then I hogtied her cohort and installed a full head mask so that she would be unable to see and hear what was about to happen.
June was stretched out vertically, her stomach and chest flat against the pole and her nice set of tits on either side of it. I walked up and pinched one nipple, then the other, which got a couple of yelps out of her, but she remained otherwise quiet, just wondering what would happen next. It didn't take long for her to find out.
I picked up the riding crop and laid it across her back with a loud whack. She immediately screamed and blubbered for me to please stop, which I did. That stroke was just to make her realize that I was serious. I let her wind down for a few minutes, then stepped up to her and held the end of the crop in front of her face, which was looking around one side of the pole.
"I'm going to ask you some questions. The answers had better match what your friend over there says, or your skin is coming off. Understand?" She nodded, looking fearfully at the crop. "Who did you call when they hauled you to jail?"
I saw her processing the question, trying to understand what I wanted. She replied, "I called Shiggy, my boyfriend." That is what I expected, already having the info about her stud from Cindy.
"What did he do?"
"Do?" She shook her head. "Nothing." I ran the crop up and down her back once, lightly. "NOTHING!" she insisted. "What could he do? He didn't have the bread for my bail."
"He came and visited you, right?" I didn't know that. It was just a guess.
"And he said?" I popped her but with the crop - just a sting. "You better start talking, bitch, or what you got the other night will seem like a love session."
"YES! YES! He came down to visit." She was frantic, now. "He said he would talk to you. He said that nobody was going to press charges and if they did, he would handle them."
Well, well. This was easy. I should have been a detective. Nothing like having your suspect naked and strung up with a whip available to get cooperation.
Now, as long as I was here...
I stepped back in front of her, popping the crop in my palm. "So, not only did you assault my girlfriend, you decided to help your boyfriend dispose of her. In other words, you agreed to be an accessory to murder."
"NO! I never said that!"
"You didn't have to. You gave him the information for him to do it." I stepped back and measured my distance." "I don't particularly care for the idea of myself or my girl being killed by some cunt's hardleg dude." Before she could reply to that, I laid the crop across her back - hard - with a stroke that made a loud crack. She threw her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs. Another stroke and another scream. She was frantically tugging against the chains and the waist strap, but her struggles did little but make her tits bobble on either side of the pole. My equipment is not made in such a way that the slave can just decide to release herself.
Several more strokes later and she was frantically blubbering curses, promises, offers, and many other mostly unintelligible phrases. Finally, I made out "PLEASE STOP, I'LL DO ANYTHING." So I decided to check out the offers.
I pulled her head back by the ponytail. "What did you have in mind, bitch?" I asked.
She suddenly realized that this was a chance to get the beating stopped if her offer was good enough. "Please, I'll let you fuck me! I'll suck you off! Anything you want."
I pulled her head back farther. "How?" I sneered. "I can't get to your pussy like this and you can't suck my dick with you tied to the pole. Not good enough."
I stood back as she started blubbering again and let her have another couple of hard swats. More screams. Then, I tried again. Yanking her ponytail again, I asked "Come up with anymore ideas, bitch?"
"YES. YES. Use my asshole. You can reach it. Please don't hit me."
"Are you sure you want your shit packed?"
"YES. YES. Use my asshole all you want."
"You're not being very plain. Use your poop chute how? Maybe a some more kisses with this will help."
Now she was literally screaming her offers. "NOOOOOO. PLEASE. Shove your dick up my asshole and ream it out good. Fill it up with your cum. It's open and ready. Pleeeaaseee."
Well, that sounded like a pretty fair offer, so I obliged her. A little spit lube on my rock hard rod, and I stepped up behind her and used my hand to move the head around to try to find the entrance. Soon I was sliding up the dark warm shaft till my balls hit her cheeks. I reached around and grabbed a tittie in each hand and got down to business. Her relief from the lashing was so great that any discomfort from my pounding her rear shaft was barely noticeable. So, I erupted a load into her and left it till she got the last drop.
I left her there for the afternoon, but that evening chained both to the wall close enough for them to reach the squat toilet, but not the shower, and left them in their new quarters. I also left a plate with a couple of cold hamburgers and a jug of water.
Business was good. The recession was over, although inflation was rampant. I wasn't obscenely wealthy, but I was definitely on the better-off side of society. This was the result of a very good income, and also a history of poverty in my youth that refused to allow me to waste money now. I now had five full time machinists putting out custom work. I made Sam the shop foreman with the understanding that he was responsible for the output of his workers. And that I still wanted nothing less than perfection in our products.
I still resisted production work, and concentrated on specialized one-of-a-kind items. And, of course, there was my other business on the side, also very profitable - and untaxed cash-on-the-barrelhead only.
I put in a small office in the front of the building, and hired a young woman as my secretary. I also built a new shop for myself next to my office. In it were my personal metal working tools. Usually much smaller than the production stuff on the main floor. And capable of much finer work. In fact, some of it was jeweler type equipment.
A man in a suit walked into the shop, asked for me and was escorted to my office. A customer or salesman? Wrong on both counts.
"Mr. Barton?" I nodded. "I'm John Jones from the DA's office." Not his real name, but I can't remember what it was. I waved him to a seat, prepared to enjoy this conversation.
"I'm here to discuss the conflict that you had with the city a while back."
"It wasn't a conflict," I retorted. "Your DA needed to get something to prove he deserves his job. He picked me. Of course, he wasn't worried about the Constitution or anything like that?"
"Well, now Mr. Barton. That doesn't exactly describe the situation..." I interrupted him at that point.
"Ok, describe it for me."
Well, we had a report that you were selling sexual... uh, equipment of a degenerative nature." Fucking lawyers. I wondered if any could speak plain English.
"Well, Mr Barton. There are laws that cover the sale of those types of things."
"Of course there are, and most of them have been struck down by the Supreme Court." I was really enjoying this meaningless back and forth. "So why would the DA suddenly decide that the decisions of that body don't apply to him?
"Now that is just your opinion. And I have to say, a lay opinion at that."
"It's also the opinion of the court that gave the adult book store owner in California the gross tax proceeds of his city for a year."
"You are remarkably well read on the subject, Mr. Barton. But let us move to your situation." He pulled some papers out of his briefcase. "The city realizes that you are a minor offender, and any further resources needed for this case could be better used elsewhere." He laid one on my desk. "We can close this out and forget it if you will sign this release." My own attorney knew his stuff. It's almost like he choreographed the city's actions.
I didn't bother to look at the paper. "First off, you call me an offender, a minor one, but still an offender. The Supreme Court says that I'm not. Which opinion do you think will stand up in court?"
He spread his hands. "Why speak of courts? That will be expensive for all parties, and probably take years. This matter is trivial and can be ended with a signature."
"Yes, as long as I sign a piece of paper agreeing that I am a criminal. Which I'm not. By the way, when do you intend to return the so-called evidence your goons took? That's an obligation required by law, too, you know."
He was taken aback. "Evidence? I didn't know that they seized any evidence."
I stood up. "So, you want me to sign a confession to a crime for an action that the high courts have said is legal, based on evidence that you don't have. I think I will take my chances with the court. Hell, maybe they will give me the tax proceeds of the city for a year. After all, the Constitutional rights of a citizen are priceless, as you know."
I opened the door. "Good day, Mr. Jones."
Cindy had her bandages off, but there was an angry red scar left that makeup wouldn't cover. It would be several months of healing before cosmetic surgery could fix it. She was self-conscious of it, of course - what female wouldn't be? She was letting Mary run her shop mostly, while she stayed in the background just running the business side of it. One night, while we were in bed at my place - with her unrestrained - I asked her about her feelings of the two attackers. Who, by the way, had jumped bail and were on the lam.
She answered with some heat, "I would love to carve my initials in both of their tits, just to see how they like being scarred for life." Once again, I emphasized that it wasn't for life - we were going to take care of that little scar when it was time. "But, I'm afraid to go out alone. They're still loose somewhere and I'm afraid that they might want to finish the job."
"Why would they want to attack you again?" I hadn't realized that was a fear she had.
"Well, if I'm out of the way, there is nobody to testify against them. They go free."
"Horseshit," I said. "You have to stop watching TV detective shows. That would make them go from being a pair of cunts that will be arrested for a low end felony if they get picked up somewhere, to the top of the most wanted list looking at life imprisonment - or, in this state, possibly fried." I stopped. Something was wrong and I didn't know what.
"OK, kiddo. You and me, we been sharing with each other for years. Something is bothering you. What is it?"
Her lip started to quiver, but she started. "I've gotten two phone calls from some guy threatening me if I don't go down and drop all charges against that pair of goddamn bitches that did this to me. I know they've put him up to it."
"Do you recognize the voice?"
"I think it's June's boyfriend. I don't remember his name. He comes... came in the shop every now and then to pick her up at closing time."
I thought for a moment. "Ok, I'll handle that problem. Forget it for now." I would have loved to show Cindy the secrets under the building, including her two assailants, but if anyone ever found out that I was running a real dungeon in the middle of an American city, the shit would hit the fan front page worldwide. I didn't want her to be caught up in the mess if that happened.
I looked up and Shive was standing in the doorway, grinning. "Yo bro? Sup?" I waved him in and since I was on the phone, motioned him to a chair.
After my call, I got up and looked him up and down. This looked like a different person.
"What the hell has happened to you? What body did you steal the clothes off of?"
He grinned. "Hey man. I'm an independent business man, just like you." He leaned forward. "Seriously, bro. I want to thank you for getting me started." I just listened, obviously puzzled. "That truck of yours and the money let me get a foot up and the sharks off my back."
"Ok," I answered, "So what do you do?"
He leaned back. "Well, I'm sort of a trouble shooter for the... dudes that run things. Or, I fix up problems. See?" No, I didn't. "Ok, lets say you want to put in some vending machines in that bowling alley down the street. Problem is, that territory belongs to the Cliff family, lets say - they have lots of those glass eyed bandits around. So when your delivery dudes meet up with theirs, the shit hits the fan. Then the bulls get involved cause they don't like fights in the middle of town. Or it can be a parking concession. Anything."
"So, I'm known as a neutral dude. I go in and talk to both sides, take offers back and forth. You know, try to keep the bloodshed out of the evening news." He grinned. "And other stuff. You know what is weird? What I do now is a lot more legal than what I did before you found me."
He changed tracks. "Hows your woman doing? Her face get ok?"
I nodded. "But she has a problem." I gave him the story and the name.
He asked a few questions, then said. "No problem bro. I'll handle this little cocksucker for you."
"Thanks, Shive. Keep up with your time and send me the bill."
"It's on the house, bro."
I began to set up furniture in the new dungeon. Racks, stocks, spreaders, all of the stuff that I had invented - or more honestly, copied from something or somewhere. I got a particular pleasure in pointing out various uses of the items to my new "testers." One of the first items I tested was the gyno rack. This was a contraption that would hold a victim, I mean a sub, spread like she was in the chair of her pussy doctor, with every part open for use, or abuse. It wasn't a table, but a skeleton of metal that made her look almost like she was suspended in air. The main support was at her back and butt, and the arms, ankles and neck were encircled with thick steel bands that were locked. Her midriff also had a steel band to keep her from arching her back off the back rest, and the knees had pull chains that kept her pussy at maximum spread.
I had watched the girls in Cindy's shop enough to learn the rudiments of piercing - always ears of course, since I would definitely not be invited to look if they were getting anything else pierced. I was going to borrow their piercer, but decided that the request would probably bring up questions that I didn't want to answer, so I just ordered my own. When it came in, I strapped my two slaves down and despite their pleas, punched a hole in their tongues about a half inch from the end. That was followed by a plastic hole keeper while the wounds healed.
Cindy finally went back to her shop, and began to greet customers again. Of course, all of them were sympathetic at her scarred face, but it didn't seem to bother her any more.
For some reason, my doggy spreader was the rage. This was just a fancy steel set of wide stocks with two holes to keep a sub's legs spread, and two others for the wrists, as her (or his, I began to realize) arms were brought underneath her body to keep her in the doggy position. Once locked in, both holes (or, again, a hole and any hanging equipment) were open and available for use. Unlike the usual wooden type, this was a modern looking lacy design of stainless bars and circular steel. Since it was built as two identical sections - a top and bottom - one piece by it self didn't look like anything. The kid turning them out thought they were some kind of brace for a medical apparatus. I would assemble them into a finished piece myself.
Jill came by - the first time in several months. Her belt had stopped working. I invited her up to my apartment where she disrobed and I removed the belt. In a little while I had determined that the motor was defective. Fortunately, I still had three spares that I had originally bought and it only took a few minutes with a screwdriver and soldering iron to replace.
While I was working, she had been looking at a rack that I had been working on - or rather modifying - and that I had brought to my quarters so as to be able to test it on Cindy or Mary. Not long after the repair was complete, Jill was laying on the wooden planks and I was turning the capstan and watching her body stretch out in a long taut line - not painful in her case, of course, but definitely enough for a female to feel helpless - which she was. By the time she left late that night, she had paid in full for the repair and I went to bed with sore nuts.
The next night was the beginning of a long holiday weekend. All of my employees would be off for four days. I headed to the dungeon, strapped Cathy onto one of the tables, and proceeded to relieve my pressures.
By now the holes in their tongues had healed, but their speech was still fractured somewhat by the plastic keeper that was still in place. One at a time I removed the temporary pieces, which elicited gratitude from my two cunts. Well, temporary gratitude, anyway. Standing over Cathy, I picked up a small box that I had brought in, opened it and pulled out a round object somewhat larger than a golf ball. In fact, it looked a lot like a bigger version of one of those hollow plastic balls with holes that golfers practiced with.
It was also made of white plastic and was one of the few I items that I had ever made for bondage that wasn't metal or wood. For a reason - teeth and metal don't mix well together. Besides the holes in it, there was a wide slit in one side, edges smoothed and just big enough for a tongue to enter. I ordered Cathy to stick hers out as far as it would go and hold it stiff. Then the ball was pushed into her mouth until the hole in her tongue lined up with two holes in the side of the ball. A smooth round rod, with a screw slot in one end and threads on the other, was then inserted into one hole, through the tongue, then into the hole on the bottom - this one with threads. A few turns with a small screwdriver fastened it in place. When I turned loose, her tongue retracted and pulled the ball into her mouth as far as it would go. Then it was just a matter of attaching a stretch band to the small eyehooks on either side of the ball and pulling the elastic behind her head and under her ponytail.
I watched her eyes widen as she tested then new ball gag. This one was long term safe - plenty of holes to let air in, so that even a stuffed up nose wouldn't cut off her air, and there was no chance of her choking by swallowing her tongue after long term use - it was comfortably captured inside of the ball. Well... maybe the word comfortably is a relative thing. I knew from experience that ball gag wearing is something a girl has to get used to. It took Cindy several weeks before she could retain one all day without her jaws cramping horribly.
I turned Cathy loose and then it was June's turn.
When I was finished, I looked over both of my slaves. I had decided that I like the bare pussy look and it was time for them to bare the crack. In the late seventies, women were starting to embrace the idea - not all or most, but many.
June was already on her back, legs high and spread. After a little study, I reached over and grabbed a hank of pussy hair between my thumb and index finger, and yanked. Of course it came out, but to the sudden gagged yelps of the strapped down girl. About an hour later, she was a bare - not smooth because of bleeding and bumps - but bare as an egg. And moaning in her pain.
Then it was Cathy's turn. In an hour, I had another girl with her nether regions bald. I put both of them back on their mats, hooked an X hog tie bar on both, then put blindfolds on them. I had decided that when it began to grow back, I would buy an electrolysis unit and make it permanent.
Later that night, I would come back down and remove the gags. But they would wear them for a half hour longer every day until they got used to them.
The next morning, Saturday, I went downstairs, so to speak, with two sets of good breakfast. I freed the hands of the two bitches and set their food down. They began to gobble it up.
A letter came in the mail. The return address only had the single word Shive. Hmmmm. What the heck? Inside was a newspaper clipping. Apparently a small time hood by the name of Shiggy Waraz, had been involved in a drug deal gone bad. He was expected to recover in a few months, but it was doubtful that he would regain full use of his legs.
I showed it to Cindy. She just read it over a few times, then kissed me. We never spoke of her fear of June's boyfriend again.
This time it was a young attorney from the DA's office.
"Mr. Barton. I'm happy to bring you the news that the DA has dropped all charges in your case."
"Maybe I don't want them dropped."
"Sir?" He definitely didn't expect that reply.
"I might want to test his law in court. It might make good reading before the next election."
"No, Sir. You don't want that. It would be a waste of time and money for all parties." Like his predecessor, he laid a form on my desk for my signature. "If you will just sign this, we can put this unpleasant business behind us." Again, I didn't look at it.
"I'll give this to my attorney to look at. Meanwhile, where are the materials that were taken in the search?"
He was prepared for that. "Ah, yes. I'm afraid that they were disposed of as of no value, just being bits of metal."
So, some cop's wife is now wearing a set of high priced bracelets. "No value? Those were close tolerance, stainless steel bracelets. My retail price on the set is about four hundred dollars. I assume you have brought a check?"
He was having trouble with my attitude. Citizens were supposed to fear the law, and feel a massive relief when its attention moved its focus from them. "No, Sir. I have no information as to..."
"You did complete your GED, I assume? So even you should know that Federal law, and the Constitution prohibits the taking of property without compensation?" I had done some fancy reading on my own. "And that ALL materials are to be returned to the rightful owner after the unsuccessful conclusion of an investigation?" I reached into my desk, and bought out an already prepared invoice that I handed to the young rock crawler. "Give this to your accounts payable person, and come back next week with a check. I'll have my attorney's opinion by then. Till then, good day to you sir."
I had June on her back in a new kind of spreader. It was kind of like a hammock frame. Two metal tubes, running lengthways to the girl, were bent at the ends to rise up at the corners. Each end had a shackle for wrists or ankles. In the center was a pedestal on which was a contoured piece, cut sort of in the profile of the girls body. I was trying to see how little it would take to suspend a girl without long term damage.
In this case, her head was supported, then the piece went under her shoulders and down to her butt, where it ended. It was curved to meet the contour of her body, and had a fairly comfortable pad on top of that. Nothing but the back of her head, neck, back and the upper part of her butt were out of reach. Her arms and legs were completely in the open from the manacles to her limb joints. Nothing got in the way of just walking up to her on all sides, and of course, all three usable holes were totally available. Her head was nicely positioned for a person to stand over, if there was anything that her tongue needed to be doing.
She looked like a big girl X, four feet off the floor.
I opened a fancy wooden box that I had brought with me and selected one of several stainless steel asshole stretchers. This first one was about a inch and a half in diameter and was no problem to insert, once it had some lube slathered on it. Well... at least it was no problem for me, but June had another opinion, and from her groans, it wasn't a particularly good one. Shortly, Cathy was sporting one also. With a thin waist chain and a single chain from attached to back and front and running through a eyelet in the penetrators, they were not removable by them.
Actually, groans were about all they could make. By now they were almost to the point that they could wear the tongue holding ball gags from meal to meal. They didn't know it, but shortly the mouth training would end and they would only get them on occasion.
Now it was a woman. In her twenties. She would take a set of bracelets very nicely. However, while she came to talk about just that set of items, it wasn't to purchase them. Once again, an introduction that I immediately forgot...
"Mr. Barton. Are you aware that it is illegal to bill the government with frivolous invoices?"
"No. I didn't know that, but I know that I don't send out phony invoices."
She pulled out the invoice that I had given the young pencil pusher last time. Of course I knew what she was talking about. I picked it up and pretended to study it. "I can assure you that this is not phony. Neither is it padded. This is the price that I get for this work."
She put on her best, you've got to be kidding look. "Four hundred and fifty dollars for five rings off metal? Come on, Mr. Barton."
I opened my desk and brought out a single bracelet just like the ones they had taken. I set it in front of her. "Have you ever asked for something to be made in stainless steel? No? I didn't think so." I pointed to the bracelet. "This is one of the hardest materials to work that is usually found outside of a laboratory. If you don't know what you are doing, you not only ruin the work but you tear up your tools and break your machines."
I pulled out a single sheet of paper - it was a copy of a page in my catalog. "Notice, here is the item set, and the published price to all comers." I sat back in my chair. "So I assure you, Ma'am, that invoice is not phony."
Of course, I didn't give a shit one way or another if they paid or not. It was worth the loss just to stick needles in the Man. Or in the case, the woMan.
She was looking at the bracelet. "So you do actually make these... these..."
"Bondage items." I completed. "Yes, if that is what a customer wants. I just make the things to their order. What they use them for is their business. Look out that window." She could see the floor of the shop and machines busy turning out all manner of parts. "I also make parts for machines all over the country. I make anything for anybody who needs a metal item and can pay for it."
"Mr. Barton. I'll be frank with you. I will agree that your invoice is real, but from a practical standpoint, I can tell you that the city is not going to pay you for... sex toys."
I smiled grimly at her. I was enjoying myself. I could tell that her neck would take about a fifteen inch collar. She would look good in my new stretcher. I reminded myself that I still had to come up with a name for it. Air Stretcher? No. Space Stretcher? Hmmmm. Later.
"I don't believe the appropriate laws about compensation for private property has categories of types. But, just return them and we'll call it even."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I believe you were informed that they were disposed of."
Gotcha. I leaned forward, and said, "I don't believe for one second that someone threw them out - and neither do you. Right now the entire set is in some government employee's house and his wife wears them on the weekend." I leaned back. "To put it plainly, they were stolen by a government employee."
"Now Mr. Barton. There is absolutely no indication of that..."
I picked up the bracelet and handed it to her. "Look that this. Notice that it is a heavy polished ring of stainless. Notice the hinges, the lock loops, the brushed finish, the engraving. Do you see any defect in it at all?"
She shook her head, "But..."
"It looks like a fine piece of jewelry - albeit, a fairly large one. Right?"
She nodded. "Yes, but..."
"So, do you really think that someone just threw five of these in the trash?"
She just sat there looking at me for a moment. "Ok, you have made your point. But, where do you want to go from here?"
Enough already. This was fun but I had things to do. "Here is the stuff from my attorney. He talked with someone in your office to arrange it. Take it back and get the ok, and I'll sign it."
As she was leaving, I couldn't resist. "One other thing, Ma'am," She paused. "If you or your husband need any of my products to spice up your marriage, please consider my company." As she stalked away, I didn't know if she was furious, or if she wished that she was the one who absconded with my rings.
Time moved on. Now the tax code had been revised and I could make a profit without ninety percent of it being taken for taxes. I made Sam the plant manager, and he rode herd on the plant floor production. I now had a full time office manager and a couple of girl fridays. Business was good and getting better.
Eventually, the administration of the city changed, and a new set of bureaucrats came in to try to destroy any possibility of a business inside their city limit to make a profit. And again, a detective came by and asked about my business of making toys for the perverse and degenerate.
Here we go again, I thought.
Meanwhile, I had fully indulged my underground "hobby". I had carefully mapped out all of the tunnels that I could access - not for any particular reason. It was just that I was fascinated by my "empire" down below, the existence of which was probably only known by me. I had found several access points that weren't completely blocked and knew which buildings they entered, but I had not attempted to open any of them since I had no desire to perform burglary or to be arrested for breaking and entering.
There was nothing startling or valuable in any of the grid of tunnels. In fact, except for trash that had been thrown down the openings before they had been filled or cemented shut years ago, they were empty. Some of the trash was mildly interesting - pop bottles of a brand that had disappeared long ago, empty cans of brands I had never heard of, and so forth.
Nope, the only really interesting part of the underground was just its existence. And the fact that I was the only person who knew or remembered it that it ever existed.
By now my two slaves had been totally broken. I had grown to like the hairless look and had purchased an electrolysis machine and made them use it on each other until they were both permanently as smooth as an egg below their eyebrows. Since they never wore clothes, by now their tits were starting to droop from the total lack of suspension. They were also trained to instantly react to my commands. They had learned the hard way that any hesitation earned them a session of severe punishment. Well, they were almost trained. They still had another lapse to go.
By now either could take a three inch asshole stretcher without pain and that was as far as I wanted to take them. Their holes would still close up, but would easily allow my dong to enter, which it did often. I hasten to say that I am not claiming to need a three inch hole to gain entry.
Neither one had any lesbian tendencies - at least at the beginning. I decided to entertain myself by watching two girls do what two girls can do with each other. They were having none of that, and even backed away from each other when I told them what to do. Not a bright idea for a slave girl. Shortly, I had both of them fastened spread eagled facing the wall and walked over to select an appropriate tool. I picked up a short round bull whip that I knew from Mary's experience was horribly painful. Being careful to adjust my strokes so as not to bring blood, I let each have one.
The screaming was immediate and deafening - especially since they would try to hold themselves as far from the cold concrete wall as possible and the the whip would wrap around their side and the tip would also sting stomach, tits, or twat, depending on how high or low it was aimed. A couple of strokes later and the offers of lesbian acts were coming nonstop. A couple more, and the offers began to get explicit - describing tongues and fingers in every possible orifice. Finally, as the count started to get close to ten each, the noise just became non-explicit wails and shrieks.
I stopped, put the whip up and waited for a while. Both of them were just barely standing without hanging by their wrists. The legs and arms were twitching from the effort of their thrashing and struggling. I knew that by tomorrow morning, both would have a major case of sore muscles.
I walked over and explored a few of the orifices that they had happened to mention a few minutes earlier, then finally pulled June's head back by her hair. "Do you still have a problem with women?" She managed to blubber out her intense desire to perform girlie sex. "How about you?" Cathy agreed that it was her ambition to try it also.
For the rest of the evening, they performed on the basement bed, while I sat back with a brew and made suggestions. As lesbian performers go, they were about as clumsy a pair as I had ever seen. But with my sitting beside them casually popping a riding crop against my leg, they were encouraged to learn, quickly.
Over time they learned.
Strictly for my own pleasure, I would have them service each other while I watched. There was no hole or bump that their fingers and tongues didn't explore. At the first, there was some hesitation, but they soon discovered that even the most disgusting act was preferable to being strung bar taut in a rack and then laced with a whip.
One day, during my continuing search for different bondage situations, I ran across an article - with pictures - of female body modification. Interesting, I thought. It might be fun to try.
My friend who owned the adult sex store dropped by one afternoon. He had a small wooden box - fancy, like an oriental jewelry chest. In it were two steel marbles, each a little larger than an inch in diameter. "Can you make these?" he asked.
I looked at him, not really understanding what he wanted. "Ball bearing balls?" I replied. "No need to make them - I can order these for you by the gross."
He laughed. "Not these. This pair costs about two hundred bucks from Japan."
In disbelief I looked at him - still smiling - and then at his steel balls. I picked one up and immediately knew they weren't normal balls for a bearing. Shaking it, I could tell that it was hollow and filled with a liquid of some kind. From the weight, it had to be mercury. When I dropped it a short distance onto a writing pad, it wobbled back and forth like a high tech Mexican jumping bean. I looked back at my friend and said, "I give up. What the hell is it for?"
"Ever hear of Ben-Wa balls?" I shook my head. He continued, "Well, they aren't a new invention. Apparently they have been around for hundreds of years, especially in the Orient." He took both of them and jiggled them in his hand. "A woman inserts a pair into her twat and as she moves around, the liquid inside makes them move back and forth and apparently click against each other."
I looked at them again in disbelief. "You mean that a woman can get her rocks off just by wearing these in her pussy?"
He shook his head. "Not in the sense that she becomes a quivering cunt just by wearing them. I obviously can't give you a first hand experience of their use, but my two employees have used this pair and they effect each of them differently. Shirley says they just give her a pleasant and very mild stimulation." He clicked them together again. "But, Pam can actually come off with them after several hours. And she isn't just BS'ing me. I've watched her at times when she was working and didn't know I was in the room. She actually does a little dance by slightly shifting her weight from leg to leg and making her hips oscillate from side to side - constantly. I don't think she even realizes that she's doing it. Eventually, she'll blow big time."
I picked them up from his hand and looked at them closely. "Well, that's a new one on me. So... You want to sell these? I mean, you want me to produce these for sale?"
He nodded. "Yes. If you can make them at a decent price. I can sell these like hotcakes, but not at two bills a pop. Thats half a month's take home pay for most people."
I thought for a moment. "Ok, I'll give it a try. But I'll need to get a pair of these to see just how they're made. And I'll have to take one apart."
He pushed the box over to me. "Here you are. The girls won't like me coming back without them, but they'ed love to be able to buy a set for themselves."
I had both of my dungeon slaves on a rack, on their backs, with their legs spread wide and high. Of course, their arms and neck were shackled so they couldn't do much but lay there wide open. They obviously assumed that I was going to used one or both, but that wasn't the plan this time.
I sat down in a chair in front of Cathy to where I could both look at and manipulate her wide open pussy. I pulled out the piercing tool that I had used on their tongues and plugged it into an extension cord. I then pulled on one of her inner lips to examine it for a few minutes. Finally, I decided just how I wanted to perform the action, put the piercer next to the lip and pulled the trigger. Since I neglected to use any anesthetic, she jumped - or tried to - and let out a low cry. This didn't cause excruciating pain, but it definitely bit as the piercer rod punched through.
I put two holes in each inner lip, then did the same thing to June. I inserted a plastic keeper in each hole, then released the girls, giving them a strict warning not to tamper with the plastic inserts in any way.
One of the strangest commissions that I had ever had to date came in one day in the form of a woman - fairly small, good looking, probably touching twenty-five or so. She was only the third woman that I had ever had as a customer. This was still the 1980's and it was still Texas, so the conversation about bondage still didn't flow easily. She was shy, but at the moment I didn't know if it was her natural condition or because of whatever it was she wanted. I asked her to sit down and offered her water or coffee - all I had at the moment. She sat on the edge of her chair and I knew that I needed to calm her down a little.
"Please, Miss," I started, "we're totally private here. None of my employees out there can possible overhear us." Better - at least a little. "You're here to discuss some personal... uh... equipment of some kind, so please keep in mind that this conversation is between us and will go nowhere else. Please sit back and relax, then tell me what I can do for you."
She slowly leaned back in her chair, and finally said, "My friend said that you will make... uh... well, anything for a person to their specifications. Sexual things, I mean."
I nodded and said, "Yes - anything, if it can be built. Let me tell you also that it is my hobby and much of the stuff I build is used by me. ...On my girlfriend, I mean."
"You made a belt for her - my friend, I mean - for her body. She says you can build anything." Ah ha! So the referring person was Jill. Don't tell me that this very desirable girl wanted a chastity belt. What a waste of a very nice looking cun... girl.
Nope, she didn't.
She continued. "I don't want a chastity belt, Mr. Barton. I want a... uh... well, I like to... to..." She was starting to turn red and I needed to turn down the embarrassment level right now.
I held up my hand. "Please, Miss. You've come here for a sexual item. I make them and I know all about what they are used for. I have built some things that you probably never heard of and wouldn't believe if I told you. There is absolutely nothing you can order that will shock me, so please just relax and let's talk about it."
She nodded, took a deep breath and said, "I'm into self bondage, Mr. Barton. I love bondage but just can't get into it with another person. I've come up with a few ways to confine myself for real - most of them have to do with an ice cube with a key that eventually melts and lets me unlock myself." I smiled and nodded as though this was old stuff. I had heard of the self bondage scene, but never talked to anyone who practiced it till now. "My way has two problems. One being that to prevent trapping myself permanently, I am very careful in the method that I will use to free myself. Usually that means that I can manage to defeat it immediately and that destroys the mood of the time. The other being the danger of not being able to free myself at all." She looked at me for a moment, but I just assumed an interested look - which I was. "Not long ago, the key that dropped out of the ice cube hanging from the ceiling, hit the hard edge of my bed and bounced across the room. I almost died of thirst before I got loose. That scared me."
I nodded again. "Let me guess, you want a device, or some equipment that is self triggered, but fail safe as far as trapping you permanently. Correct?"
She was finally loosening up. She nodded enthusiastically and asked, "Yes, exactly. Can you do something like that?"
"Miss, I can make ANYTHING you want, but let me ask some questions. First, when you are restrained, is it standing or lying down?"
"Lying down. Usually on the carpet but sometimes on the bed."
"Are you spread out? And if so, are you stretched? Or are you just prevented from moving from the spot."
"I like to be stretched out tight, but that is fairly dangerous since I have to be able to free myself with one hand and the key has to drop very close."
"Hmmmm." I mused. Then sat back in my chair and thought about the request. Then, "Do you want it to restrain yourself for a particular time, or some random length?"
Her eyes widened. "You can make something that restrains me for an unknown time?"
I smiled. "Once again, Miss, at the risk of blowing my own horn - I can make anything, if it can be physically made. Is there anything else you might want this...ah, device to include? Oh, and does it have to be hideable? I mean, like from friends or relatives when they come visiting?"
She shook her head. "No, most of my house is never seen by anybody but me. And, for now I can't think of anything else."
I thought for a few more minutes, then said, "Ok, I think I have enough information to do some research. Give me a few days to ponder it over, and I'll give you my ideas.
During the week, I thought intensely on the self bondage problem. It might even be something to put in my catalog, eventually. How DOES one make a fail safe bondage system? I doodled with water, ice, air, and springs. A hydraulic system would work - when the pump stopped the pressure would automatically bleed off, but it would be way too complicated and far too maintenance intensive for use by a non-technical person. There were several ways that ice would work, but it would be hard to randomize melting. Any electronic system would always have the chance of failure, even with circuits monitoring each other. Besides I wasn't a good enough electronics person to build something that complicated. A tank of water would be heavy enough to keep a little girl restrained, and it could be set to leak out at any given rate, but it would have to have some way of filling, overflow protection, and drainage.
Air? Hmmmm... That would be clean, leaks wouldn't damage anything, breakage wouldn't spray oil all over the room. In an hour or so, I had a fairly decent gadget sketched out.
Once that was settled, I turned my attention to the wiggly ball problem. The first thing I did was to drill a hole in one to check the thickness of the shell. Then I poured out the mercury and weighed it carefully. A close inspection with my magniflux viewer showed the seam and revealed to me that the little item was made in two halves and then welded together. I definitely didn't see any reason for the pair to cost two hundred bucks.
My self-bondage woman came by the next afternoon - Barbara was her name - and we sat down and looked at my sketches. She was bubbling over with enthusiasm and gave me the go ahead. This wouldn't take long. I told her to come back in two weeks - oh, and please wear slacks, not a dress.
The first item was a twin bed mattress - mainly just so I could get the measurements correct. I built a rectangular lightweight steel frame that would just contain the mattress. At each corner was a pulley, and mounted to the outside of each long side were two air cylinders - two on each side, that is - each facing the its own corner. From the movable center cylinder rod, a steel cable was attached, which went through the corresponding pulley and onto the mattress. At each end of the cable was one of my genuine inescapable wrist or ankle bracelets. That part was easy, the next couple of days I worked on the air system.
It was ready long before the two weeks were up. I had already had Cindy try it and now had it in my catalog. Barbara arrived in the morning and I escorted her to the back shop. There on the floor was a mattress, surrounded by some metal and a small metal container at the head of the device. Wide eyed, she walk around and looked at it. Finally, eyes sparkling, she asked, "How does it work?"
I pointed to the mattress. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I need you to actually try it so that I can adjust the linkage to fit your size. These air cylinders are very powerful and could cause real damage to your body if they try to pull further than you can stretch."
"Now?" she asked. I nodded and pointed to the mattress. She removed her shoes, knelt down and rolled over onto her back.
"Ok, the first thing you will do, is sit up and close these bracelets around your ankles. Notice that they are held closed only by the snap connector - there's no lock for you to have to fumble with or key for you to lose. But as long as you can't reach them with your hands, they are inescapable." She did that, then waited. "Now lay on your back. You will do the same thing with the wrist bracelets. Again, there is no lock to malfunction or key required to get loose. When the cable tightens up you will no longer be able to reach one wrist with the other hand and again, you won't get loose." She did that easily, also, then lay there loosely spread and waiting. "Now, with both hands, reach over and twist the valves on either side. They only move a quarter turn - they aren't like a water faucet."
She did that, waited a few seconds, and said. "Nothing is happening."
I shook my head. "No. Not yet. The tank hasn't been charged yet. I need to adjust the cables first. Spread your legs fully." I then adjusted both leg cylinders back to the point to where, with the rod fully retracted, the cables were slightly tight. Then I clamped the bolts down. "Now the same thing with your arms." I made the same adjustment for her arms, then again, tightened the bolts on the cylinder holders. "Ok, it should be close to fitting you. I released the temporary holders on the cylinder rods and the internal springs pushed the rods fully extended. "Now, release yourself."
She brought both hands together and unsnapped the clip connectors, which not only released her from the cables but also allowed the bracelets to come off. She sat up and did the same thing with her ankles. "Notice that there are no keys to be lost or fall out of reach like you had happen once on your own. That is one of the safeties."
I helped her up and we walked to the head of the bed to what looked like a small wooden cabinet. "This nothing more than an air tank and some valves - and a little pump. It was inclosed in a nice looking mahogany box. First, make sure the two valves on your bed are off. Second, flip this switch on..." She did and jumped a little as the sound of an air pump suddenly started. "It's a small pump and will take about fifteen minutes to bring the pressure up." While it was pumping, I showed her the other controls.
I pointed to a valve with an indicator that ran from one to ten. "This represents the maximum time, in hours, that you can be held in restraint. First you set it to whatever you want for your... session. I'm going to set it to three hours. That means that you will be captured for at least an hour, but no longer than three hours."
I pointed to two other valves, but ones with no markings. "These have no off or on. Notice that they will just spin around as long as you turn them. But, wherever they are turned to, they both will let a certain amount of air escape - you just won't know how much when you begin. Turning them to a different place, will let a different amount of air out. The reason for two valves is for safety - if one gets stopped up, the other will still allow the your release to take place. The last absolute safety is a permanent pair of tiny openings in the tank that will drain all the air out in about a day. If everything else fails, this will make sure that you are released eventually. Plus, if a hose breaks or ruptures, you will be loose instantly."
"The second step is to spin these valves several times - they will randomize the amount of time you will be restrained."
The pump turned off as the pressure in the tank maximized. "Now, and this is important, unplug this apparatus from the wall. That will guarantee that the pump can't start up again. I have a circuit that is supposed to prevent that, but this guarantees it. There is also that switch that your right hand can reach if all else fails and it starts up anyway. I yanked the plug out.
"Now you are ready to go. Lay down and hook yourself up."
She sat on the mattress and quickly closed the bracelets around her ankles, then lay back and did the same for her wrists. "Ok, this is your last chance to cancel," I warned. "Reach over with both hands and turn on the valves." With all the slack in the cables, she could easily reach the twin valves on the side of the mattress. She twisted both and waited, eyes wide and breathing rapidly.
Fairly quickly, but not with a jerk, the cylinders began to retract their rods, and her body was pulled into a female X on the mattress. In just a few seconds, they had reached the end of their travel and she was secured. I walked around, looking closely. "How does it feel," I asked. "Too tight? Too loose?"
She pulled on each limb several times and then said, "No. This is just about right." She pulled some more. "I certainly can't pull my arms or legs back."
I shook my head. "That's a fact. You're being held by over a hundred pounds of air pressure. I haven't calculated just how strong the force is, but given the size of the cylinders, it has to be in the vicinity of a thousand pounds total. That is why it was so important to make sure that the mechanism hit the end just when you are at maximum stretch." A thought suddenly came to mind. "I don't know if you have any friends who share your love of self-bondage..." She started to say something but I waved her to silence. "...and I don't want to know. But, you must never allow anyone else to use this. If they are smaller than you there is a real danger of them being severely injured when it retracts. Understand?"
She nodded. "I won't go into a description of the pressure regulators and how they work, but what is happening now is that air is leaking from the tank at a rate based on the positions you turned the three valves up here to. Eventually, the pressure will get low enough that the springs in the cylinders will begin to overcome the air pressure and the cables will be let out enough for you to get loose. Even if one cylinder were to jam, the other will release enough slack to allow you to free yourself."
I let her stay for a few more minutes, then turned the master valve to purge, and almost immediately the cylinders began to extend to the non-pressure position.
Shortly, in my office we were finalizing the transaction, she gave me a set of directions to her house and I arranged to deliver it that evening. I delivered it personally - I didn't want an employee to discover the location of a female who would be probably naked, spread wide and helpless for hours.
A month had gone by since I had punched holes in my dungeon slaves' pussy lips. Now I brought along a set of very expensive items that I had manufactured during the month. As the girls stood before me with their legs widely spread, I removed the plastic keeper inserts that had kept the holes open until they healed. I threaded an open golden ring through each lip hole, then the ring was threaded through a small weight that looked like a miniature Christmas ball ornament. Finally, a special set of pliers closed the ring into a continuous circle.
Standing up, each of their inner lips were pulled down by two small, but heavy golden weights - four total for each girl. Even now, the lips stretched down almost an inch below their original position. According to my research - ok, it was an article in a porno mag - the lips would continue to stretch over time. How long they would get would be interesting.
I decided that a hot forge stamp would be the best way to produce the wiggle balls, as I started calling them. Who was Ben Wa, anyway? The inventor? A sheet of stainless steel of the proper thickness would be put in the induction furnace until it glowed orange, then was fed into the forge stamper. That would stamp out a hemisphere of the right dimensions which, after some smooth up grinding, would be ready to be pressure welded to it's twin. That left a hollow ball ready for filling. A small hole was drilled, the mercury inserted, then the hole welded closed. Some touch up grinding and polishing was all that was left. Total cost, not including the special tooling that I had to make for the stamper - about a buck, labor and all. I decided that some Japanese company was definitely engaged in profiteering.
I also experimented with putting an actual ball bearing ball inside of the larger sphere, rather than partially filling it with mercury. I assumed that the little ball rolling back an forth might - or might not - have a greater effect than the heavy liquid.
I put my youngest employee to producing them in volume. After a day or so, he had the motions down pat and was making several dozen an hour.
I took a box of them to my friend's store and astounded him with my price of five bucks a pair. Of course, he would probably ask twenty-five or so, but it was still far less than the imported ones. And mine were better - they were stainless steel rather than just chrome plated. Nothing to wear off or corrode from pussy juices.
I had Cindy sitting in her own piercing chair at her business, and had Mary punch several holes in her lower inner pussy lips. Cindy assumed that I was going to install jewelry when the wounds had healed, but I had other ideas. A few weeks later, I had her in my bed, stretched out wide with her limbs fastened to the bedposts and with cum still draining out of her hole from the load that I had just given her. I opened up a fancy little wooden box and set it on her stomach with the top open. She strained to lift her head to see what was in the box.
"What is it, Honey?" she asked.
Rather than answer, I reached into the box and pulled out what she probably assumed to be two steel marbles. I dropped them on her stomach and we watched them do their little wobble dance as the heavy liquid mercury sloshed around inside. Of course, Cindy had no idea what they were, but assumed that they would have something to do with sex.
I knelt down between her legs and inserted them, one at a time, into her pussy as high as I could push them with my finger. I then threaded the bails of three small polished gold locks through the holes in her pussy lips that had been punched weeks before. When they were snapped shut, her pussy was effectively held shut and the Ben-Wa balls were contained inside.
When she was released, she stood up and moved her hips back and forth, making the little locks swing from side to side. Then bent over to look. Standing back up she said, "Well, I don't see what you've done except stick two marbles up my hole and then lock up my pussy..." She walked over to me, put her arms around my neck and pushed her tits against my chest, "...but, at the moment, I don't have any other dick besides yours that is scheduled to enter, so what are you trying to protect?"
I just smiled. "Let me know what you think about them in a couple of days."
The next day, the reason for my hidden dungeon was confirmed. As it turned out, one of my "customers" was a setup - an undercover cop who purchased a few bondage items.
The door opened rapidly and suddenly the office was full of cops. I was read my rights, and hauled just a few blocks to the jail.
My attorney had me back out on the street by nightfall and a visit to my office showed that it had been ransacked. I wasn't worried about that, since there had been absolutely nothing for them to find - not even a single wrist bracelet, and for damned sure no papers having do to with that side of my business. Cindy and Mary came over and we began to put the place back in order.
The next day, my attorney was putting together our response - another claim that my civil rights had been violated. It was fortunate, he said, that I had refused to admit guilt on the first time this happened - that would have made it much harder to defend against now. There was another much more important factor - I had vastly more money to throw at the problem this time around. His suggestion was that we contract for the services of a dedicated civil rights advocate legal firm. I nodded yes and told him to get the ball rolling. Then I forgot about it and went back to work.
Cindy had fallen in love with her new balls - the Ben-Wa balls. They would cause her to have an orgasm at any given time - walking, shopping, talking to her customers. I noticed that, like the reported action of the adult shop girl, when standing she would unconsciously move her hips back and forth to make the two balls vibrate together - I guess that is what they did. Of course, I had to take them out whenever I had pussy sex with her, but she always insisted that they go back in after I was finished. I put my foot down and made her remove them during her period so that her insides could recover from any damage or irritation the foreign objects might cause.
Mary had become her best friend by now, partly because of the help she gave when Cindy was recovering from her wound, so of course it was only a short time before her friend knew all about them. Cindy asked if I would get a set for Mary.
That night, a surprise was waiting for me in my quarters. Cindy met me at the door and escorted me to the bedroom. I stopped in the door, frozen at the sight of Mary flat on her back on the bed, naked and spread eagled in chains. "What the fuck...??" was the only question that immediately came to mind.
Cindy pulled me into the room. "You said her clicker balls were ready. I assumed that you would want to install them yourself to make sure the job was done right." At the side of the bed, I looked down at the girl. She was about the same age as Cindy, but somewhat overweight - actually, lush would be the word. Nonetheless, she was certainly a desirable piece laying there with everything open. She was looking back at me with sort of a shy smile and probably wondering if this was a good idea. Cindy, on the other hand, was having a blast at the situation.
I looked at my girlfriend. "How is she going to hold them in?" We knew from experimentation that even tight panties weren't total insurance from a heavy ball dropping out.
"Three locks. Like mine," she answered. "We pierced her for them last month. Here. I picked up a set from your the supply room. this week."
What the hell. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. My dick had already made its decision. I reached over and pinched one of Mary's nipples firmly. Pulling on it, I said, "And how do you plan to pay for these balls? They're very expensive."
She drew in a sharp breath, with an "Eeeee." Not loud, because I wasn't hurting her. It was just the sudden surprise of her private little nob being suddenly played with. "I don't know. I guess you will just have to take whatever you want in payment." I could tell that the prospect wasn't making her unhappy. Suddenly, two hands began to pull my polo shirt up over my head. I looked around and saw that Cindy had already dumped her clothes. Shortly, mine were in a pile beside hers.
She walked to the head of the bed, leaned over and inserted a ball gag in Mary's mouth. Lifting up her head, she wrapped the velcro straps so that they seized together. Then she laid a blindfold mask over her eyes and pulled the elastic band behind the prone girl's head. Looking at me, she said, "How's that, boyfriend?." She waved her hand back and forth over the girl. "The smorgasbord is ready. Which end do you want to start on?" Then she came over and rubbed her tits on my chest. "Just remember to save some room for desert."
I've had worse nights.
Before my arraignment, we had filed a federal lawsuit against the city again for constitutional rights violations. But this time, the difference was that the papers were delivered in person by an attorney from an outfit known nationwide for cutting rogue DA's down to size. And the amount that we were asking in damages was ridiculous. Once again, my personal attorney told me to expect some visits from city hall wanting to get out of their mess without having to admit fault.
My arraignment was delayed for "procedural reasons." The reason being because of the first hearing, or whatever it was called, for my lawsuit. As the two home grown lawyers for the city were waiting, in marched a half dozen top end attorneys of mine - all wearing suits and watches worth about half a years salary for the locals. I could see the "Oh shit!" glances between my opponents as they realized that the DA's vote getting action might have some serious consequences. I just sat there and watched, bored. As far as I was concerned, they weren't even speaking English.
I woke up about midnight. It had been a long week with the bullshit at the courthouse and the fact that my prime business was booming daily. I was going to have to decide fairly soon if I wanted to keep expanding or call a halt when I maxed out the space in my building. I swung my legs over the edge and sat up. Time to visit the bathroom - I had had way too much coffee too late. I noticed that both Cindy and Mary were still in position. Of course, it would have been very odd if they hadn't been, since the chain connecting their collars to the ceiling was rated at about a ton.
I got up and walked over to them. They were titty to titty, their collars locked to each other with a short chain, both arms behind the other and fastened, and both were sharing a single ball gag with two sets of straps. They tried to look at me with a pitiful expression as I fingered both for a minute before I moved on to the bathroom. Afterward, I decided that as long as I was up I might as well take advantage of the situation. I stepped behind Mary, pushed her legs apart, and proceeded to feed my dong up her rear shaft. She had just recently been introduced to the sodom act, so she did some major wiggling as I pumped away. In this position, I could grab two sets of tits, and squeeze four nipples at the same time. Not a bad consolation to the necessity of having to wake up to pee.
I was beginning to limit my customer base for sexual items. I didn't really want to become a major manufacturer of bondage equipment. What I really wanted to do was experiment with new things, not just make the same stuff over and over again. It was just a hobby that let me experiment with different types of far out equipment.
Mary was now a part time live-in girl friend along with Cindy. Sometimes on a slow day at the Woman's shop, she would come over and get stretched out in some piece of equipment that I was testing. Or just stretched out because I liked to see a woman in that position. Cindy liked being stung with a whip, but only as an adjunct to her "refusing" to do an act during her bondage sessions. It didn't take much before she started doing whatever was required to make the punishment stop. But with Mary, she could hold out far longer under the whip, or the rack, or being swung from the ceiling or whatever. In fact, I had to stop sometimes to make sure that I wasn't damaging any part of her. From some of my customers, I knew that women with the real masochistic desire existed - she just happened to be the first one that I had actually come across.
As to my slaves below ground, from my one way mirror I had caught them performing on each other several times. And I assumed that for every time that I had actually seen them laid out and licking or fingering each other, there were probably dozens of times that I hadn't seen. As I thought back, it was inevitable - they had nothing to do between my visits - no TV, no books, no nothing but white walls and bondage gear. The boredom brought them to do willingly what they had refused to do months before.
My secretary rung the interoffice phone. "Mr. Barton. An assistant District Attorney is here to see you." Ah ha! So the fun is starting again. The door opened and he was escorted in. Except that he was a she. In fact, it was the same female attorney who I crossed swords with in the last incident. "This is Ms. Wilson," was how she was introduced. I waved to a chair and waited for her to sit down and start the session. When the door closed again, I just leaned forward on my elbows and looked at her. She was a nice looking woman - really nice, except that in that pseudo male business suit she didn't exactly come across like a Parisian model.
She went through the motions of opening her briefcase and pulling out a sheaf of papers. They could have been just props since she didn't seem to care what they contained. "Mr. Barton. I'm sure you have figured out that I'm here to discuss your case."
I smiled. An outrageous thought had just entered my head. Never mind. It's a thought for later. "I prefer to think of it as round two, Ms. Wilson." She started to reply, but I continued, "Which official needed some sound bites for the upcoming election?"
Of course, she could only respond with the company line. "I can assure you sir, that our office is run entirely without consideration of politics."
"If you actually believe that, Ms. Wilson, then you are not only too young but you are far too naive for your job. As an aside, isn't the proper procedure for you to talk to my lawyer rather than me?"
I watched her trying to decide which sentence to reply to, then swallowed the implied insult and answered the second. "The DA thought that a little off the record conversation might get us to a resolution."
I smiled again, this time grimly. "In other words, that the average person might understand, your boss has realized that my New York law firm is probably going to hang his ass out to dry." I held up my hand as she started to retort. "Just to set the machine to the home position, let me say that I am not going to agree to plead my case down, or to drop my countersuit, or probably anything else you are prepared to offer. This one is going all the way." I was puzzled somewhat by her attitude. She didn't seem upset at my refusal to cooperate.
That afternoon I walked over to my attorney's office and told him about the encounter. After grilling me about what happened, he sat back and looked at me over steepled fingers. "Bob, you're operating on a false set of assumptions. This little girl, as you call her, it the reason you got arrested. In fact, according to my contacts, it was her idea from the start."
I looked back at him with widened eyes. "What did I do to get on her hit list? Or does my hobby just offend her sense of propriety?"
"None of the above. She doesn't expect to win this thing. Especially now with all our muscle on the job. She's using it to hose her competition in the DA's office." I started to comment, but he held up his hand and went on. "When this falls on it's face, the DA is going to be royally pissed, especially in an election year, and is going to hang someone as a scapegoat. But not her - she's too far down to get the blame. Specifically someone above her in the office hierarchy. Then up she goes to the next rung." He leaned over and with emphasis warned me, "Don't match swords with this girl. She's Capone's great great granddaughter in thought and morals. You might think you are playing with her, but believe me, it isn't for fun and games from her end."
That night I was a bad slave master - bad as in, I wasn't interested in playing around. Cindy and Mary finally went off to find pleasure with each other as I just sat around and thought. I was feeling somewhat persecuted. I had assumed that my hobby business was an affront to the local establishment, and now I had found that I was just a pawn in an office climbing scheme. What ticked me was that the instigator didn't care who got hurt in her climb. If I had to spend thousands to defend myself, tough. If I just got unlucky and and lost my business or my freedom, or both, well, that was even tougher, but her necessity to rise in her profession was worth anybody else's suffering.
Right now my legal costs were just a little less than my income. In other words, I was working entirely for the legal profession.
That night Cathy and June paid for my bad mood. I hung them both up by their wrists, picked up a pseudo bull whip, and proceeded to make them writhe and scream.
Over the following weeks, I mused about what I could do about the little bitch in the DA's office. Obviously, contracting to Shive to knock her in the head was out. As was feeding her a Mickey Finn. Both would be tough to do and besides, I would be high on the list of suspects if she was found laying in some alley somewhere. Besides, while I am perfectly willing to use any force required for self defense, I am really not into premeditated murder. I satisfied myself by just observing her when the occasion presented itself.
One item that came up quickly, was that she was a workaholic. Obviously, that fit in with the idea that she was a serious climber in her office hierarchy. In fact, her car was still in the parking lot long after the courthouse closed, including Saturday at noon. And, many weekends her car was parked there on Sunday. That fact was interesting, but I didn't see any value in it.
Or did I?...
After a few weeks of casual observation and fact-finding, I corrected my impression that I was the major target in her career plans. As it turned out, I was a very minor player - just another schmuck in her climb up the ladder. She had much bigger fish that she was trying to fry. Great! That meant that my half baked plan could start being developed.
Meanwhile, I had fun with my two underground bitches. For a while I played with absolute restraint. First, a girl would have her ankles chained as wide as her legs would spread, standing up with her hands manacled behind her. Then a non-flexible band was bolted around her waist at the narrowest part. Four chains, one of each attached to an eyebolt in the band at her front, back and both sides, and led out horizontal to the nearest wall or pillar. One of these chains would have a turnbuckle that could be tightened, and when it was, the four chains tightened up into a bar taut and unbreakable support for the band. There was no pressure on the girl - in fact, the band would be held in the same unmovable location whether the girl was in it or not. As such, the middle of her body could barely wiggle - the band itself would move not at all.
The same thing was done with a collar around her neck. When that associated turnbuckle was tightened, her neck and upper body were held immobile in the collar held in place by thousand pound test chain.
Finally, a tight leather hood was laced onto her head, and three chains led from equidistant points around the top of the mask to eyebolts in the ceiling a few feet away from her. These couldn't be massively tightened since otherwise they would be trying to pull her head off, but they were snug enough that her head could neither rotate nor nod.
Standing back and looking at my new living statue, I realize that I had made a mistake. The waist chains attached horizontally in the front and back precluded any normal sexual use of her. I could still poke her, front or rear, but only by laying down on my back on a short table under her. Not satisfactory.
The fix was easy. I just rotated the waist band, neck collar and associated chains to where they came out at her front and rear quarters, so to speak. Now I could approach her standing up front or back. It was a good configuration for corporal punishment also. Everything was open to my riding crop and the victim... sub could only squeal - movement out of the line of fire was out of the question.
It was fun. Well, on my part at least. Apparently it is fairly intense torture to not be able to move for hours in a standing position, whether you are whipped or not.
By now the girls pussy lips had stretched considerably from the golden weights. I wondered just how long they would get.
One day a major shock struck both me and Mary. Cindy had discovered a new and very wealthy boyfriend and was moving to California with him. She told us one night, crying and apologetic - blubbering her grief at breaking up what had been a very good partnership. I wasn't happy to see her go - it would be like losing a close friend, which she was. But, I assured her that life moves on and that I was happy for her and that it wasn't like she was disappearing forever. I wasn't totally dismayed. I really liked Cindy - I don't know if it was love, since I had no idea how to recognize the condition - but I knew everything about her and her body, and frankly, I enjoyed using new women acquaintances more than her now. Of course, I didn't say that.
Mary, on the other hand, blubbered all evening until I threatened to tie her down and whack some sense into her. Of course, that didn't work. She offered to go get the whip.
For the next couple of weeks, we helped her get packed, and ready to move. Her business went on the block, and since her books could show a solid profit, sold quickly. The day came, and with both girls bawling, sobbing and blubbering in turn, we saw her off. Even I had trouble holding back the tears.
I was under City Hall looking up at a metal trap door. I didn't know if it was locked from above, but I did know that the decades of disuse had rusted it in place. Using a small hydraulic jack on a stand, I slowly began to pump. It was late at night on a weekend so I expected nobody to be in the building to hear as the door squeaked and popped and finally began to open. With it cracked a couple of inches, I could see that the unknown room above was totally dark so I continued to pump until the trap door was standing vertically by itself - held in place by it's own rusted hinges. Standing waist high in the opening I shined my flashlight around. This was an abandoned boiler room. Long abandoned, since the boiler itself had a factory stamp of 1927 imbedded in the frame. Climbing into the room, I looked around at the rusted junk. This room couldn't have been used since WWII.
I stepped to the door, and tried to open it but it was locked with an ancient deadbolt. Using a manual hydraulic shear, I cut the face of the lock off, slowly opened the squeaking door and looked out at a set of stairs leading up. Tomorrow I would replace the deadbolt with one of my own - one that was weathered to look as ancient as the one I had just removed. At the top of the stairs was another door and another deadbolt, but this one was one sided and could be unlocked from inside. On the other side was the equipment room for the building, and through the opposite door was a hallway. I had made it into the courthouse.
I spent the next hour installing my own lock underneath the trapdoor so that it couldn't be opened from above without a cutting torch. With that, I closed it, locked it, and left.
By now, Mary was fully inked. There wasn't a square inch of skin, besides her face, that wasn't covered with pictures. I wasn't that into tattoos, but she was an awesome sight when her plump body was naked and on display. She was also fully into pain now. I took the place of Cindy when it came to punishment. About once a week or so I would string her up in the back room of my apartment and lash her unmercifully. She could take pain that even I would have trouble withstanding.
Shit! Who am I kidding? She wanted punishments that would have me blubbering confessions to every crime that had happened in the city in the last year.
She was now out of a job - the new owners bringing in their own staff, but she was ok with that. It wouldn't have been the same anyway. Besides, it gave her the opportunity to move out of her apartment and in with me as my punishment slave. By now her B&D play had become real. She wanted to be actually owned and I was trying to decide whether or not to haul her down to the dungeon as a permanent slave. For now, I took every last stitch of her clothes and locked them in a storage closet in the plant below. Now she would be naked all the time and stuck in my apartment. I put a major lock on my closet so she couldn't get to mine, and she knew that any naked and massively tattooed woman caught on the streets of the city, would be in trouble big time.
Not that she wanted to leave, but the idea that she couldn't, excited her.
Along about this time, I pierced her tongue and started her on being able to retain a ball gag for long periods.
I fitted the back room up as a mini dungeon, and anytime I wanted to visit my harem downstairs, Mary would be chained to something so that she couldn't wander downstairs at night and discover my secret opening. She also became my cook and housemaid.
During the next week, I made several trips to City Hall for various forms and information, during which I discovered where her office was. I also observed the location of the ladies rooms and several other interesting items. I also ordered a special item from Shive. Many weekends I enjoyed the fine weather at an outside table in the coffee shop across from the courthouse square - even on Sundays when they were closed. I knew the owner and he didn't mind if I used my own coffee and his table at that time. I not only accomplished a lot of my business paperwork at those times, but I also made notes about what happened in the courthouse on weekends. Not much, actually.
Finally, I made up my mind to make the move.
Meanwhile, I drilled a moderate sized hole in the dungeon floor and concreted in a three inch heavy wall steel pipe, about six feet tall. My two slaves watched warily as it was installed, no doubt wondering just what new implement was being build for their benefit. I couldn't finish it until I had the exact measurements of my proposed acquisition.
One Sunday after another passed without her working. I needed a Sunday because on most Saturdays there were at least two or three other people working in the building. Finally, the day came with her car entering the parking lot at about 10 am. Her's was the only one in the lot.
I hurried back to my building, entered the basement and started down the series of tunnels leading to the courthouse. Shortly, I was inside and peeking out of the equipment room doorway and looking down the hall. Looking around for any other people, but trying to appear like I wasn't sneaking, I walked down toward the door leading to her office. I stopped behind a phony potted palm tree that I had moved a few feet several weeks before and peeked across the hall though the glass in the door of the DA's office. There she was, at her desk, across the room and with her back mostly to me. I immediately moved down the hall and taped signs to the Men's and Women's restrooms.
Then back to my equipment room where I settled down on an old metal stool looking out the barely cracked door. Two things had to happen now. First, her woman's bladder needed to be female normal - that is, hopefully she would need to have to pee about every two hours, sooner if that was coffee in the cup I could see on her desk. Second, everybody else needed to decide not to come in on Sunday.
Sure enough, about thirty minutes later, I saw the main DA's office door open and her head for the little girl's room. She stopped and read the handmade sign I had taped there earlier. With a most unfeminine "Shit!," she turned and headed for the stairs. As soon as she disappeared through the stairwell door, I quickly moved across to her office. If the door had been locked, I was prepared, but it wasn't. It only took a few seconds to cross the open office, around the desks, to her little cubicle. I already had the lid off a small vial of liquid that I had obtained from Shive and into the coffee pot it went. In a few seconds, I was back in the equipment room looking down the hall through the cracked door. As it turned out, I had plenty of time. Several minutes went by before she returned.
By now my heart was pounding and the adrenaline was pumping full tilt. Up to now, if anything went wrong, all I had to do was disappear and let the powers that be wonder what happened. But shortly would be make or break time. If I screwed this up, I was going to be going up the river for a long time.
I watched for a long while as she shuffled papers around, occasionally sipping from her cup of coffee. Eventually, she tilted her head back, then put her hand to her forehead. I saw her shake her head, apparently trying to clear it. She stood up, unsteadily, started to move to somewhere, then apparently changed her mind and turned around and reached for the phone. Then she disappeared as she collapsed behind another desk. I sprang into action. First, I ripped my signs off the bathroom doors and stuffed them into my back pocket. Then I entered her office and found her unconscious on the floor, as expected. Pulling a bag out of my other pocket, I dropped her styrafoam cup into it, coffee and all and sealed it up. I pushed her chair back under the desk and set all the papers in a neat pile to look like she hadn't worked here this weekend. Then a trip to the hall to make sure that nobody was coming.
I looked around and went over my long memorized checklist. I had her purse - leaving it there would be a red flag that something was wrong as no woman would ever leave it behind. Nope, nothing els... Yes! The coffee pot. I quickly walked over, turned it off and dumped the coffee in the sink. The filter and grounds went into my plastic bag with her cup. Then another trip to the hall for another security check.
It was just a few seconds more to get her over my shoulder and - locking the DA's office as I left - into the equipment room and that door locked. Now I was breathing easier as I set her down beside the rusty trap door leading to the underground tunnel. I thought over my actions - had I left anything undone? Couldn't think of anything and if there was, too bad. Of course, I was wearing gloves the whole time but for this to work, no indication that she came in on Sunday could be left.
By the time I had maneuvered her limp body through the tunnels and across town to my dungeon, I was ready to collapse. The adrenaline flow had stopped and my legs would barely keep me upright. As I lay her on the floor beside June and Cathy, I just flopped down myself. Jesus H. Keerist! What the hell had I done?! Keeping two unknown cunts as unwilling subs was one thing, but now I had a very well known and soon to be very missed addition. But it was done and there was no going back now. As my two slaves watched wide eyed, I stripped every stitch of clothes of off the young woman and locked a collar around her neck. A heavy chain soon connected her to the wall with most of the slack taken out by being folded back and locked to itself. As long as she was unconscious I made a series of measurements of her vitals so as to have some info to build certain... well, gadgets.
Because she was probably going to go berserk when she woke up, I also put bracelets on her wrists and ankles and connected them with a chain, left ankle to left wrist and the same on her other side. Now she could stand up and move around, like to the floor toilet, but she was very restricted in the use of her arms and hands as they wouldn't rise above her waist unless she sat down and bent her knees.
Suddenly I remembered the last part of this act and ran upstairs to the phone.
That afternoon, a check of the courthouse parking lot showed that her car was gone. So, Shive had accomplished his part of the plan. By tonight her car would be just a set of anonymous parts in some chop shop. I relaxed in my office that afternoon, letting the emotions of the morning gradually dissipate. The two signs that I had used were on my desk. I unfolded one and read the handwritten printing, "Out of order. Water off. Use restrooms on second floor." Of course, the reason for them was to extend her visit to the little girl's room considerably by making her walk upstairs and back. I tore them up and dropped them in the trash.
Months ago I had installed a kitchen with electric stove and 'fridge in the dungeon so that the girls could make their own meals. It was too much of a hassle for me to do so, and eventually someone was going to comment on my buying so much ready-to-eat food. I had given orders for them to feed my new possession when she woke, if she wanted to eat. Of course, she was going to have to get used to a much plainer course than she probably was used to.
I heard nothing all day Monday of any problems at the courthouse, but by Tuesday the news was all over town, TV, radio and all. Even my attorney came by with the gossip. I evinced mild interest, and asked what effect it would have on our legal problems.
"Probably not much," he replied. "She was the instigator of the action against you, but as far as I know, she wasn't active in the case. The other staff are handling our action. By the way, I was told to expect an offer from them shortly."
"An offer?" I asked.
"Probably a settlement or the like. What we do with it will depend on how much money you want to spend."
The rest of the day was a normal workday for me. I hadn't gone into the dungeon since I had left my new possession on Sunday - I didn't want to be underground in case of a raid. I wasn't expecting one since I was just one of many schmucks whom she had dealt with in her fairly short career. I assumed that someone would want to ask me questions, since I had dealt with her briefly a couple of times. Sure enough, that afternoon a detective called and asked some routine questions. I answered truthfully - I had only seen her a couple of times when she came by my office, and that was quite a while ago. I could tell by his level of boredom and disinterest in my answers that I was not even in the running as a suspect.
Wednesday night was the first chance I had to examine my new possession. I headed downstairs fully expecting to have a wildcat in a trap.
I wasn't disappointed. As soon as I appeared in front of her vision, she was on her feet and building up a full head of pressure. Apparently, I wasn't who she was expecting, but there is no doubt that she recognized me immediately.
"You!!" she exclaimed as she rose to her feet. She tried to gesture with her hands but with her now standing, they wouldn't rise above her waist. But her mouth wasn't restrained in any way. Sanitized, she started sort of as follows... "You cocksucking son of a bitch! I'll have your goddamned ass in a solitary cage for the rest of your life! Take these off of me right now!" At the moment she wasn't the beautiful bitch that I remembered, at least from the neck up, with her face distorted with rage and hatred. She had either forgotten, or didn't care that she was totally naked and standing before a stranger.
I noticed my other two girls watching wide-eyed from their corner. After months of boredom and only seeing each other and me, this was a definite excitement in their lives. I walked up to the raging girl and stopped out of reach of her chained wrists. So far I had said not a word, but just let her spew on from the mouth. I won't bother listing the bulk of the one-sided conversation, since it was just one long stream of profanity and threats.
At what I was assuming was about the halfway point of her tirade, I turned to the new pole that I had installed recently. At the base of it were certain attachments that I had passed time making during the day. These would be enhancements on the absolute restraint that I had been playing with recently. The first was a thick neck collar with a threaded rod welded to the back and sticking out. I had made a list of important measurements of the new slave and knew exactly how high she would stand spraddle legged. I inserted the rod into a hole in the vertical pole at the level of her neck and fastened it snuggly with hex nuts. This particular collar was built in two halves that would also be bolted to each other. At the moment, the other half was still laying on the floor.
A larger ring was installed exactly the same way, but at the level of her waist. Again, half of this larger ring was left off. I motioned to June and Cathy to stand up and come over. "Each of you, take one of her arms with both hands. And don't let go! Understand?" Fearfully, they nodded.
As they grabbed her, she increased her level of threats and began to resist. My two slaves were only girls, but the arms they were holding only had the strength of one girl, so despite my victim's struggles, she was held tight. I removed the slack reducing lock from her neck chain and slowly pushed my three sirens over to the pole. The screaming girl was backed into the open rings and I immediately bolted the other half of the neck ring in place, followed by the waist ring. I waved my two helpers back to their corner.
I picked up an ankle spreader and attached on end to an ankle. Then, against her futile resistance, I spread her legs fully and attached the other ankle. Standing back, I admired my work and the beautiful, if almost incoherently furious, new addition to the dungeon. By now of course, my dick was in full extension, and in fact, was stuck in my shorts in the wrong way. What the heck, I pulled off my shirt and shorts and let her see what she was going to have to entertain from now on. The stream of profanity tapered off as her situation apparently began to dawn on her. Her eyes wouldn't leave my pointing johnson.
After letting her have a few seconds of gazing, I moved behind her with two more rodded rings. I unlocked a wrist from the chain bracelet and bolted the wrist ring around it. Then I pulled it behind her and pushed the threaded rod into an appropriate hole and locked it in place. Then the other wrist.
Now I had a girl in total restraint - almost - standing wide legged about a foot away from an unyielding steel pole, and held in place around her neck and waist by steel rings attached by rods to the pole. Her ankles were in a steel spreader bar. Her arms were held behind her and out either side of the pole by smaller rings. I had an attachment to immobilize her head, but I didn't use it right then.
With a ball gag hidden in a closed fist, I walked up to her face, waited for her to open her mouth - which she did immediately - and jammed it in, holding it in place by wrapping the velcro strips behind her head. It became quiet for the first time since I had entered the dungeon.
Now it was time to admire my new possession. She was beautiful - about 5'6", brunette, full lips, nice and high knockers, and an already shaved pussy. Her crack was wide open and waiting and it took all my will power not to stuff it right then. I reached out and weighed her tits, then pulled on the big nipples. Nice! Her expression and shouting around the gag made me believe that this was probably the first time either of those bumps had been fooled with without her permission. I expected that she was going to have real trouble when I started playing with her other stuff.
I walked over to the opposite wall and removed a genuine bull whip from a hanger on the wall, flipped the coils out onto the floor, then mildly cracked it a couple of times. It was only for show - I would never use it on a girl since it would quickly turn her into ragged meat. But as an attention getter for a new slave, it had no equal. I stepped in front of my new acquisition and held the handle up in front of her eyes. They were as wide as they could get and for the first time she wasn't trying to protest around her gag. I looked her in the eyes and said, "You no longer have to concern yourself with promotions, subpoenas, paperwork and the like. All you have to worry about is making this happy." I stepped close to her so that the head of my dick could rub against her stomach. Sombitch! It was all I could do to keep the bodily fluids from spraying all over her.
She looked down fearfully at my rock hard rod and tried to say something, but all that came out was a mew like a kitten. I reached down with my free hand and gently grabbed a handful of pussy lips. Then spreading them with two fingers, I inserted the middle one as far as it would go. From her expression and quick intake of breath, I surmised that this was the first time that she had been fingered without her permission, also. The interval of threats were now over - the next time she would be able to talk would bring the pleading and the inevitable offers of dropping all charges and forgetting that this ever happened if only I would let her go. I decided that I might as well get it over with and removed the gag.
Sure enough, she started in. In the next few minutes I was taken to the top of the mountain and offered all the kingdoms of earth - or equivalent. She offered to get all the charges dropped, reimbursement for all my expenses and some money to boot, and of course, to totally forget that any of this was happening. I listened politely and nodded at the appropriate times. Eventually, she ran down and waited for my grateful appreciation of her offers. What she got wasn't exactly what she expected.
I called my pair of cunts over, unmanacled the new slave's hands and had them rotate her 180 until she was facing the pole. Of course, with her ankles spread at maximum stretch, she turned around in a series of little hops from one foot to the other. Then her wrists were placed back in the manacles on the pole. I took my wide punishment strap off it's storage place on the far wall - unlike the bull whip, this was a much used item in the dungeon.
Moving up to her side, I said harshly, "Lissen up, cunt. You're now my slave - my sex slave - and you will be until you die. When that will be will depend on just how happy I am with your performance over time. You will do what I say and how I say and as long as I say. If I want to fuck you, the first thing on your mind will be to drop to your back and spread your legs. If I want to pack your poop chute, you will bend over and spread your cheeks. If I tell you to eat my shit, you will grab a spoon and start in."
With that, I backed up and lined up my stroke. The strap hit with a loud twack across her back. It took a moment for her nervous system to realize what had happened then she let out a scream at the top of her lungs. Several more followed at about thirty second intervals. By the time of the last one she would probably have collapsed on the floor if the steel poll and accessories weren't holding her up.
After a while she calmed down and I released her from her standing position. Then my other two girls strapped her face up in my suspension rack. Making sure she could see my swinging hard, I step up to her and inserted it slowly up her crack. I had never had a piece of ass that gave me more satisfaction. By now, she was just staring at the ceiling, stunned.
During the next several weeks, I enjoyed my new captive every night - well, almost. A couple of evenings a week I had to service Mary.
I began to work on the second phase of revenge. A trip to Brazil and several thousand yankee dollars got me a visiting back alley surgeon and nurse. One night, I brought my now fairly broken slave to a hidden room upstairs in the back of the second floor. An operation was performed on her, the two medical visitors stayed around for a day or so to make sure that nothing had gone wrong, then I drove them back to the airport. In a few weeks, after several bottles of just-in-case antibiotics, she had healed completely and was as good as new. Well almost. She was much quieter, since her vocal cords had been removed. Of course, she was horrified at what had been done to her once she came to. At least, I assume that she was horrified - there was no way for her to tell me.
Now the rest of the fun could start. I got the two original girls to begin to depilate her, from her nose to her feet. They had plenty of time, since my next project was going to take a long time. At this time, I put her on a one thousand calorie diet until she had lost about 12 pounds.
After a few tries, I got a set of steel panties made. It was slow going, but eventually they resembled the old chain or ring mail of feudal knights, only the links were much finer and made of shiny stainless. They weren't made in bikini style since that type could be easily taken off. Rather they were full pantie dimensions, the top starting at the small of the waist. Oh yes, they were also crotchless, since I didn't want them to prohibit my use of the merchandise.
I fit them to her, then closed the tiny connecting links permanently. They were not loose but not tight yet either, and definitely could not be taken off - at least, not without a power shear at the least. She was beautiful, standing there in shiny chain link drawers. And this was only the starting place.
Her disappearance was a one week sensation. I suspect that everybody that she had ever come into contact with was interviewed, and some of the dudes that she had helped put away were probably questioned in less than friendly fashion. Other than a couple of casual question periods by a bored dick, I was ignored. After all, who would suspect someone who lived and worked just a block from the scene of the crime and less than a block from the main police station. Obviously, the perp was some scumbag from her past and who was now long gone.
My suit with the city was finally settled on terms that I expected would protect me from any further harassment. Besides, by now even Texas was beginning to enter the modern sexual age where sex and fetishism and even homosexuality were, if not welcomed, then mostly ignored.
My business prospered. My new hobby did also. The next item for my slave was a blouse - not from the local store, this, but also made exactly to her form and covering from where it was attached to the neck collar down to her metal panties and then along her arms and attached to her wrist bracelets. It also acted as a bra and gave quite a bit of support. Months and months went by as I built the garment, one fine metal ring at a time, and test fitting the "garment" to her whenever I descended into the dungeon for some ass. By now, she was resigned to being used as an available whore - or if not resigned, then she knew very well to cooperate and not complain.
The next items were two individual pant legs, attached at the top to her panties and at the ankles to the bracelets. Then metal socks and gloves. All of this was excruciatingly slow, with me sometimes having to toss the current piece and start over. Finally, almost two years later, she was encased in a solid garment of very flexible metal, the only openings being for her ponytail, eyes, mouth, nipples, and a slit for her pussy and asshole. She could bathe, since the linked garment was as porous to water as a screen door, but unless she wanted to stick a metal clad finger into her mouth or one of the other two holes, she could touch no part of her body directly. Well, she could tweak her nipples, also, I guess.
Now I allowed her more to eat so that her body could get back to its normal weight. The steel suit had of necessity been made somewhat loosely since that was the only way I could fit it to her. Now, as she put on the previously lost pounds, the metal garment filled out to a snug and shiny skin.
She was a sight to behold. It was a one piece garment, shiny silver, flexible and totally non-removable. She was like something in a fantasy comic book. Her form was obviously that of a beautifully built woman, but totally unrecognizable as an individual, of course, and with no voice, she couldn't tell anybody of her plight even if there had been anybody to tell. The suit of metal was totally flexible - her arms and legs would move normally, she could be screwed fore and aft just like a normal woman and since the metal lay next to her skin, it was at body temperature. Of course, laying on her didn't give the feel of a soft woman, but the different stimulation of the small links - not to mention the imagination of what I was screwing - just added to the erotism.
I had named her Metalica.
I had a friend in the electronics business build me an apparatus that included a modified cattle prod. That is, the intensity of the shock could be varied by me at will. For its use, I built - well, it could only be called an electric chair. It was a beautiful thing, built of mahogany, but with metal fasteners at strategic locations. A girl could be strapped into it with connections to her four bracelets and her neck collar. A metal plate on the chair gave it a place for the juice to return to - a ground. I wanted it for Metalica, but I needed to calibrate it with a woman who could scream and give me an idea of how hard it was working.
June was the guinea pig. Once she was secured and the clips connected to her rings, I selected a low setting on my control panel and pushed the button. She yelped and jumped, or tried to, then let out a wail that continued until I let go of the button. Not bad to be just the second notch from the bottom. I turned the selection switch to midway and hit the button again.
This time she not only jumped and twitched, but let out an ear splitting scream - one after another as fast as she could draw breath. This level was obviously more than painful. I went up two more notches. She howled like a banshee after just a second or so at that level. After three or four more pushes of the button, she was panting with her tongue out and sweat was pouring off her body.
I locked out the two settings above that - I didn't want a fried girl on my hands.
Metalica was a different problem. She couldn't be hooked up the same way since her steel leotard would just short out the current. With her I just had one wire connected to her suit and another in a metal dildo stuck up her pussy and insulated at the bottom so it wouldn't short out on the metal on either side of her slit. The metal plate on the seat was removed. When she was hooked up, I stood back and looked her over. I had Cathy at the control panel beside her, waiting, and trying to be very cooperative in the hope that she wouldn't get to try the ride.
I bent over and looked my metal girl in the eyes. "This is partial payment for your part in trying to get me jailed, Metalica." I had a cruel smile showing. "And remember, it's only partial payment." I looked over at Cathy and nodded. She pushed the red button.
The wired up girl jumped, stiffened and thrashed in her unyielding metal bonds, all the while with her mouth open and trying to scream. Nothing but throat and air noises came out, of course. I let her have a full minute before I waved at Cathy to let go of the button. The girl just went limp and her head fell as far forward as her neck would allow. Her bladder had let go and piss was pouring off the chair onto the floor. She was panting heavily and every few seconds some part of her body would give a spasmodic series of jerks that gradually diminished in the next few minutes.
The chair was a hit - well, at least for me. It was the most fearful item in the dungeon to the girls - by far. All I had to do from then on was to hint that a girl was going to get an electric session. That would turn any of them into a quivering, whimpering and begging slave.
Downtown began a building renaissance and I needed to improve the looks of my WWII concrete building. By now money was the least of my worries, so I had the building totally redone as a two story structure with a much more modern machine shop on the bottom floor and an upscale apartment for me on the second floor. It took some doing with some immigrant workers after the project was complete, but I managed to have a disguised stairwell built leading only from my bedroom to the dungeon. It was contained between two new concrete walls so it was totally concealed unless you knew the secret of lifting my kingsized bed from the floor. This one had several one way mirrors that allowed me to stand in the stairwell and observe my harem, unobserved. Now I could visit my dungeon, night or day without worry that someone would find the opening or hear suspicious clanking sounds.
By now, I had become acquainted with a half dozen upper class men who were also interested in B&D and had formed a secret club to exchange and enjoy each other wares. One of the rules was that nobody ever asked about the status of a slave - in that manner, no one would ever be called on to lie about knowing if a girl was willing or not. And the status of the members was such that any expose would be a social disaster, and therefore it was in the interests of each member to be absolutely discrete. For a long time, I usually used Mary for my available sub. In this case it wasn't a question of willingness or not - she loved the idea of being forcible restrained and given to other men. At other times, I would walk either or both June and Cathy up to my quarters to wait for the night's fun. Of course, they were always with a non-removable pierced tongue gag so they couldn't speak of where they had been brought up from.
Of course, I never even hinted of my dungeon two levels below to my club members.
One day, Shive came by for a visit. I was glad to see him and we headed for the bar and rehashed what each had been doing. I left out a lot, and I assume he did also, but he now had his own organization - a polite word for mob, I assumed. Over my protests, he gave me full credit for getting him out of the loan shark gutter and into his new "career." Finally, as the bar was closing, he said that he was going to check in with a girl he knew and get some lodging for the night.
"Hell no, Shive." I retorted. "You're going to stay at my place."
"Thanks, 'bro," he replied, "But I want more than just a bed for tonight."
I smiled. "Believe me, you're going to get a lot more than just a bed." Light dawned in his face as he translated the give and take.
Back at my place, I poured us another nightcap, and guided him down the long unfinished hall to a particular door. I pointed. "Abandon hope, all ye who enter." He looked at me, puzzled. I had wasted the quote from Dante's Inferno on a man who had never read anything more complicated than comic books. "Do anything you want with the merchandise." He understood that, and I turned and left.
I knew that he was going to find a plump, big tittied girl with an absolutely unbelievable assortment of skin art and an insatiable appetite for sex. One that was chained by the neck to her room. I hoped her weirdness wasn't a turnoff for him.
Ten o'clock the next morning, Shive still hadn't appeared, despite his telling me the night before that he had to be back home by noon. I didn't want to go down to the dungeon for fear that he would wander around looking for me at the time I was opening or closing the hidden trapdoor. So I headed down into the machine shop and watched the activity for a while.
One, then three o'clock rolled around and still no Shive. Damn, did Mary's twat suck him in and he was now trapped? Or had he passed out from fluid exhaustion? I knew that food and drink wasn't a problem - she had her own little kitchen - but...
Finally, about five thirty, I heard the far door close, and in a few seconds he appeared in my quarters. His impeccably groomed look and thousand dollar outfit now looked like... Well, to be honest, I have seen bums down at the railroad yard waking up from a night of rotgut that looked more alive.
He flopped down in my overstuffed chair and I handed him a stiff jolt in a glass. Looking at him quizzically, I asked, "Was she ok?"
Gulp - and half of the liquid was gone. "Goddam, bro. That woman could suck a damn watermelon through a straw." I took that as a yes. "Where in the fuck did you get her?"
I sat down too. "Actually, I didn't 'get' her. She was an employee of Cindy's and both she and I kind of developed Mary into what she is."
"Sumbitch. I've never had a woman that was just pure... ah... shit, I don't know, but this one is fucking unbelievable. Man, thanks for the use. I hope you'll invite me back sometime."
"Invite, bull," I retorted. "You can come visit and have her anytime you want. You've done a ton of good stuff for me, Shive. Far more than you know."
We talked for a while, then he finally dragged himself to his feet and headed out. I could tell that he was weighing the possibilities of staying another night with whatever it was that he had supposed to be doing today.
I really enjoyed my metal clad girl. It was the thought of her condition that was more erotic than any sex she could provide. A condition of having been a woman on the climb up the political ladder - one who would be feared by any person who crossed her path - but who was now nothing. Less than nothing and not even able to plead, beg or bribe. Even less than that. She was now even unable to do the simplest tasks, like feeding herself, or brushing her teeth - she couldn't even wipe her own ass. My other two slaves had to tend to her feeding and hygiene. I had removed her metal gloves and replaced them with the same type of metal link cloth, but as thumbless mittens. Now she couldn't pick up a fork, or a piece of meat, or even something as big as a glass of water - at least not without using both hands and being very careful, since the metal was very slick. It also didn't help that her wrist bracelets were usually fastened behind her or to her collar.
She was a slave of slaves. I let the girls use her how they wanted, and what they usually wanted was their pussies licked, or their assholes tongued. And of course, since bullying always feeds on itself, they became even more demanding. Several times, from my hidden vantage point I saw Metalica spread out on a table, arms and legs attached at the corners and with one of the girls squatting over her face and pissing into her open mouth, or said open mouth sucking on the girls peehole as the stream came out. I didn't interfere - Metalica was a nobody with no rights anyway.
On occasion I actually slept with her in my bed. She always had her wrists fastened together behind her, or to the headboard or somewhere - I didn't want her to try to strangle me in my sleep. But she would lay beside me, and I would talk to her all the while as my fingers explored her two available holes. Her tits could only be felt through the metal fabric, which was unsatisfactory, but her nipples were available for tweaking.
Of course, my conversation was always condescending, as I complimented her on being a true slavegirl, whose only use was as an available cunt and asshole for the use of men. And so forth. Since the conversation only went one way, and her expression could never be seen, even in the light, I could only assume that she hated me with every fiber of her body. That was ok, too.
Then, eventually, I would usually turn her over and enter her twat or ass from behind, then unload into her. Afterwards, I would give her something that I hoped was infuriating, like "Ok bitch. That's all you're good for tonight," and roll over and go to sleep.
I was now very wealthy and had turned the business over to a manager. It took a long time to find one that I wanted - one who considered customers to be assets, rather than just chumps with money to be fleeced. But I eventually did, and semi retired from the business. All I was concerned with now was my little speciality machine shop in the back where I continued to experiment and turn out special items for myself, my friends and some special customers.
By now, the weights on both Cathy's and June's pussy lips had stretched them to almost six inches. They were quite a sight as they flapped back and forth as they walked. By attaching a rubber band to the weights on one lip, and running it round her body to the other side to the other weights, her pussy would be stretched wide open for view or use. It was fun. I had let them put on weight, and they were now both chubby, with considerably larger and bra-less pendulous boobs swinging in front. They had about forgotten what it was like to wear clothes.
Metalica got some new attachments. First, her nipples were pierced at the base, just like she was going to get rings or nipple stretchers installed, then left to heal. I had made some steel nipples, shaped just like the real thing, only considerably larger than most, and with the metal "areolas" just larger than the holes that currently showed her nipples - about an inch and a half across. They were attached with wire through her new piercing holes and the resulting stretch of the nipple was what kept the cone in place. Now, she could only be actually touched in her mouth, or both lower holes. Everything else was covered. Her ponytail was now down to her waist.
It took some doing, but I finally found some all metal zippers. Her two eye holes and her mouth slit could now be zipped shut. Now, whenever she was closed up, the only proof that there was female skin underneath the silver looking statue, was through the metal slit at her crack, and to see that she had to have her legs spread, and either had to be laying down or the viewer had to be stooped below her looking up. Also, the only sense she had left that was usable at that time was hearing, and I had no reason to interfere with that, since I didn't care what she heard and actually wanted her to hear things. Like detailed descriptions of how worthless she was.
I had also pierced her tongue and started training her on a ball gag. Only in her case, the elastic band wasn't needed to keep it snug. Once her tongue was inserted and pinned, and the ball automatically pulled back into her mouth, the zipper was closed and the ball was effectively captured. Of course, in her case the gag did nothing for preventing speech that she couldn't make anyway, but it was just another degradation to have her mouth stuffed all day long. Of course, anytime I had a girl in a long term gag, I had to make sure that they began the ordeal fully hydrated, since the drooling would begin immediately and continue for the rest of the session. For the other girls, it would usually trail down between their tits and belly and finally drip off their cunts on the floor. In the case of Metalica, it would be inside of her metal skin and would trail all the way down her body and finally leak out at her feet.
She also got two beautiful dangling earrings. Big solid silver rings, two inches in diameter, on silver jewelry chains, attached to the metal costume where her earlobes would be - if they could have been seen. She was now even more unbelievable. I regretted that she couldn't be displayed to the world. Or could she?
Our "club" met every Friday night, each time at a different member's house. Usually there were at least four of us, sometimes all six. We almost never brought along our own sub, or subs, since being stopped by the police for anything could be embarrassing. And in the case of an unwilling sub, disastrous. The interesting part was, is that none of us knew the status of our fellow's girls. Were they like Mary - willing subs to be used as we wanted? Or were one or more actually unwilling girls, like Metalica? We didn't know and didn't ask.
Our usual night was for poker. The table stakes were minor, considering that everybody there was a millionaire. But with the pot, came the right to use the host's girl or girls. After each pot, the winner could take his prize or hold it till later.
The poker was very casual. During the night between hands, and while waiting for the last winner to finish, we would also talk shop, girls, or politics. If some major news story was happening, we would watch it on TV. On warm nights we might swim in the pool, if he had one. Sometimes I brought a new item that would be displayed by using the host's sub.
I needed to do something about Mary. Having two dungeons was a pain, but if I took her into the real one, then it was for keeps. I decided to let her decide. She was not only a hard core sub, she actually was craving to be really enslaved.
I had her strapped on her back, spread out taut and was admiring again all of her art. Well, I was also fingering the demon whose mouth was her slit. A very wet and drooling mouth, I might add.
On occasion, just to make sure that she was paying attention, I would pop the inside of a thigh with a small lash and she would jump like she had been electrocuted. I had long since learned that this was the most painful area on a woman for the whip. I pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed.
"I have a proposition for you, but wait till I finish to tell me what you think." That was a totally unnecessary command, considering the gag that was in place. She nodded. "I have a real dungeon somewhere, filled with real slaves. They are - were all women who had committed an offense against me, one way or another. So they are real and unwilling. You, on the other hand, willingly want to be somebody's bondage cunt. This is your chance. Interested?"
She nodded, wide eyed. She also tried to reply but it only came out as a "Hummmph."
I pointed my whip at her face for emphasis. "I want you to understand the real part. If you agree, it will be total slavery from now on. You will have no rights or will whatsoever." I paused for a second to let it sink in. "If I get tired of you and want to sell you to a whorehouse in South America, I will do it and you will go." It sounded good, but I had no idea if such unwilling bordellos even existed down there and how I would even go about making such a transaction. She looked too excited. I needed to bring home the reality of this. "If I decide to have a back alley doctor cut both of your arms off because I want you unable to play with your own cunt, that will happen and you can't stop it." Son of a bitch! Where the hell did that come from? But, I think it worked - both of her eyes got a little wider.
"I know you like the fucking and chains and whips, but think about the other aspects of your life. You will never go to the mall again - never see another movie in a theater - never again eat in a restaurant - no clothes, just naked skin till you grow old and saggy." No change in her aspect. "All you will see is four walls and some other girls and occasionally other men who will do whatever they want to you." I turned around and started to leave, then said, "Think about it in the next few days."
By now, several women had tried my equipment in my quarters. Having money, I had no trouble attracting girls, but most were unsatisfactory beyond the casual screwing. After so many years of real B&D, the idea of just playing at it didn't really turn me on anymore. So far, I hadn't found another who was into it like Mary, or who was just so much fun in the sack, like Cindy. But since I already had four on tap, it didn't really bother me. But...
One day, Jill Laughton came by. I hadn't seen her for a couple of years, at least - maybe more. She had put on a little weight and wanted her chastity belt let out. At least that was her given reason. I realized fairly quickly that there was more to her visit. That same night, she was spread, stretched and lightly whipped in several of the devices in my enlarged second floor apartment. I realized that this was a woman who wanted to develop into a sub - maybe a good one. I was perfectly willing to put her through a training course in the next few months.
She became my current woman - when she left the next morning, she was wearing her belt again, but I kept the keys. All day long, she could think about the fact that nobody, including herself, was going to use her pussy without my permission. I wondered if she would develop into a Cindy, wanting tight bondage, or a Mary, needing massive punishment for pleasure. Hell, or maybe both.
Of course, anytime she was there, Mary was confined to the back room - and usually gagged.
Speaking of Mary, she had thought about what I had offered her - thought about it for about five seconds. Then for the next several weeks, she kept wanting to know when she was going to be really enslaved. In fact, her insistence got her whipped a few times to make her shut up. Of course, that was like punishing a young girl by sending her to the mall with a credit card.
One night, I got her drunk and then kept insisting that she drink more. When she finally passed out, I picked her up and hauled her downstairs. Not easily - she wasn't a petit girl. The entrance of this naked and inked woman definitely got some surprised stares from the other three inhabitants of the dungeon as I hooked a chain from a wall link to her collar.
"Meet your new roommate, girls."
A night came - one on which it was my turn to supply the meeting site. Four other men were there that night. We settled into a normal game of 5 card draw, no different than probably thousands of games going on all over the county this Friday night. Eventually, the pot was won - not by me on purpose - and I excused myself and left the room. Shortly, I came back into the lounge towing my stumbling metal thrall by a silver chain connected to her collar. If dropping jaws could make a noise, the sound level in the room would have been deafening. However, the "Holy Shit"s and the "God Almighty Damn"s filled in the silence quite well. I locked the end of her chain into a bolt on the wall over the casting couch, and said, "Ok Bill, your pot, your pussy. You can use any of the two lower holes - your choice."
Nobody moved. They just stared at the unbelievable apparition that had appeared. They knew of my secondary business - hell, all of their subs were wearing my bracelets and other gear - but this was totally unexpected. She was about the same size and shape as June and I supposed they might have assumed that it was her. As for Metalica, who knows what was going through her mind? This was the first time since her capture, more than two years ago, that she had been in the presence of anybody besides me and my other two subs. Her eye and mouth zippers were closed at the moment, but she could definitely hear the other men in the room. She had gone from a powerful and career climbing woman, to a metal clad object to be screwed on demand. I wondered if it had dawned on her that she was not only going to be fucked by a strange man, but it would be with other men watching. Of course, with no vocal cords, to my friends, she would be just another willing sub in an unbelievable costume. And her lack of speech or other sounds would be explained if anyone unzipped her mouth slit. He would see a ball gag that was obviously preventing her from speaking.
Bill - the winner - finally slowly rose from his chair and walked over to the casting couch. As per our custom, once we got to whichever house we were meeting in for the night, we only wore shorts, so it was just the work of seconds for him to shuck them off and kick them away. He was at attention and rock hard as he pushed the silver girl back onto the couch and spread her legs. In seconds, his fairly large dong was inserted all the way up between the metal slit and into her soft female cunt. The poker game was forgotten for the moment. The sight was too erotic to be able to concentrate on mere cards and money. Tonight, everyone would take their turn before the next hand.
I went last, just for politeness to guests. Then, making sure that everyone could hear, spoke to my girl. "Let us know if you are getting sore, sweetie." Of course nothing came out of her hidden mouth. She had absolutely no way to communicate her status with anyone. She couldn't even hold a pencil to write a message. I stood up and said, "My bitch is ok. She'll grunt at us if she starts to hurt."
I filled my glass and sat back and listened to the compliments, answering questions - not always truthfully - and offering observations. Life was good - I was very wealthy, had a career that I loved, all the pussy I wanted, and now - my long sought revenge was complete. It would become even more complete before the night was over. I expected that my metal girl would have a painful pussy and asshole by the time the night was over. Well, if nothing else, she should well realize by now that what goes around, comes around.