It was easier said than done but I managed it with her holding one of my hands to steady me. She turned back to the box again but instead of the expected mask she now took out a length of chain with a square looking attachment at each end. She passed this about my waist and I saw that the two end pieces were designed to fit one inside the other with a dull click that told me they had been locked together, holding the chain snugly about my constricted waist like a belt.
'Right wrist please, Teenie.'
Obediently, I held up my arm and a shining steel band was clicked about it. My left arm was dealt with in the same fashion and then both were guided to my sides, where I discovered that each band was fitted with a small snap catch on the inside of the wrist that locked neatly onto the belt chain. Very simple and a pretty contrast against the black rubber, and also very effective in that I was now completely helpless.
'Now you're mine again,' Anne-Marie whispered, bending over to kiss me full on the lips, her tongue pushing between my teeth like an eager serpent. I wanted to reach up to hold her but my automatic response was halted with a clinking of metal as I tugged against it. 'Yes, all mine, my Teenie baby,' she said, breaking away from me, 'and don't think this is going to be just for a couple of hours. We can stay here for days on end if we choose to... if I choose to, I should say.'
'But what about the records we still have to check?' I protested. 'And what about Andrea?'
'Carmen will keep Andrea safe and sound and those records will still be there the day after tomorrow. After all, they've been there for decades already so another twenty-four hours won't hurt, will it?'
'You're not serious, are you?' I asked, feeling myself starting to tremble.
Anne-Marie stood back, her hands on her hips in a pose I had come to regard as Meg's. 'Perhaps,' she said softly. 'It all depends on how I feel and on how you perform.'
'Perform? What do you mean?'
'Out there,' she replied simply. 'It all depends how you act as my slave and how things go from there. Besides, you may not want it to end, not if the other night was anything to go by.'
'What do you mean?'
'Only that I think you're a natural little sub and a right little show off, given the proper conditions and preparation. In a few minutes you'll be masked and anonymous again and, once I'm changed, I'll be taking you out there just the way you are now, that's without panties, so your smooth little minny will be the centre of attention and available to all eyes and hands.'
'But I'm supposed to be your slave,' I protested. 'You can't let just anyone—'
'My slave, exactly,' she cut in, 'which means that if I choose to let everyone touch you up, that's my privilege. Of course, there is a gusset piece I could put on you, I have it here in the box, but there's a downside to it.'
'Please use it,' I begged. 'Please cover me up.'
'Well, you asked for it.' She drew the thing out and I gaped as I saw the two attached rubber phalluses, the one slightly longer and thicker than the other but the second nonetheless imposing for all that.
'Oh, no!' I gasped. 'The other one, can't you take it off? I can handle the first one, but—'
'But you'll get used to the other one, I promise, and then you'll be reminded at every step that you're my slave girl by choice tonight.'
'But I think maybe I've changed my mind about that,' I said. 'Yes, I want to go.'
'Too late, Teenie slave. Besides, I don't think you really want to go. Now, I'm going to plug your pussy and your bottom, then I'm going to gag your pretty mouth and put your mask on you, and in a little while I'm going to show you off to all my friends, so move your legs apart while I put a drop of something on this little one for you. I imagine you'll have enough lubrication for its big brother by now.'
I stood and waited in total darkness while Anne-Marie changed. My mask had been designed so that the eye openings could be zipped closed and a flap clipped down over them to shut out even the last chink of light. It was a curious sensation, the thick rubber helmet mask padded slightly over the ears to dull sound, as was that of my lips stretched around the stubby rubber penis gag that was buckled to either side of the mouth opening.
Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil.
But there was no way of controlling my thoughts as they went whirling back in a kaleidoscope of images that included Meg, Hacklebury, Erik, Anne-Marie and Andrea. I stood tall and erect and knew that I was a thoroughly wicked person as I yearned for my mistress to take me out and parade me for all eyes to gloat over. My bottom felt full, my vaginal muscles throbbed as they expanded and contracted about their rubber guest, and I knew I could have made myself come on the spot. I think Anne-Marie knew that, too.
'Easy there, Teenie,' I heard her say close to my ear. She had to be standing on the bench seat, I realised vaguely. 'Save it for later and I promise you'll come all you want to and with an appreciative audience to share your pleasure!'
'I say, she really is a magnificent looking specimen!' The fellow at the bar was dressed from head to toe in white leather studded with rhinestones. His face was dead white and his eyes heavily made-up, his receding hair obviously dyed jet-black. I estimated he had to be in his early thirties and he spoke with an accent that suggested Oxford or Cambridge. 'What do you call her?' he asked, unable to take his eyes off me despite the fact that Anne-Marie's generous bosom was all but falling out of a top that could have come straight out of Wonder Woman's wardrobe had it not been made of white rubber.
'I call her Teenie,' my mistress told him.
'Not that teeny though, is she? My, but she's a tall one and such lovely legs, too. Do you rent her out?'
I felt myself turn cold, but was that totally from dread?
'No, she's not for rent,' Anne-Marie assured him with a wan smile, 'though I do loan her to very special friends.' It was half true, I thought, remembering Andrea and the way Carmen had looked at me earlier.
We moved on, Anne-Marie holding a short chain leash that she had clipped to my belt and me following just behind her, my feet dragging in their heavy-soled boots.
This area of the club was certainly for the more serious; the costumes were more dramatic and in many cases more extreme, to the extent that one male slave, his head encased in an eyeless leather helmet and his arms caught up behind him in a leather sling affair, wore nothing more than a ring set into his foreskin from which a slender steel chain allowed his red leather-clad mistress to lead him.
Other slaves, males and female and those whose gender it was impossible to guess accurately beneath layers of rubber and metal restraints, either followed their masters and mistresses in helpless and often blind obedience or waited mutely wherever they had been left, sometimes with leash chains clipped to handily placed hooks, sometimes strapped tightly to steel pillars that rose from floor to ceiling at strategic intervals.
The music down at this level of the club was loud, pounding and insistent heavy metal interspersed with Bowie and Queen and tracks I guessed had oriental or eastern influences in them but which were otherwise foreign to me. I could smell joss sticks in the atmosphere, the sharp acridity helping to override the heavy odour of perspiration, rubber and leather, except the mask that clung to my face served to flavour my every intake of breath with its own smell of latex.
There was a dance floor area in front of a raised stage, and although most of the patrons seemed to have things on their mind other than dancing, three pretty blonde girls emerged from the crowd clad in white leather boots and white leather briefs, feathered ornaments attached to their nipples, cat-like white masks on their faces and their hands caught up into fists inside tightly laced mitts. They were clearly someone's slaves and now they danced together, writhing forward and backward, circling and slithering around each other and sliding down onto their hands and knees. It was an impressive performance and I guessed they had to be professional dancers so supple did they seem and so perfectly in time with each other and the music did they remain.
Anne-Marie guided
me forward towards the pillar nearest the left side of the stage, right at the edge of the dance floor. I leaned my weight slightly back against it, grateful to have something solid in this otherwise vaporous world of sound, smell and shimmering sights.
'We'll watch from here,' she said, speaking close to my left ear. The boots she wore were as high as my own - though the soles were not weighted like mine, she assured me - and so now she was once again able to come close to the level of my face even though I still towered over her and all but the tallest males in the place. It made me feel even more conspicuous than ever, for heads turned everywhere we passed and I could feel as many eyes upon me now as there were on the three blonde dancers.
'Carmen has organised a very special addition to the cabaret,' Anne-Marie informed me. 'Keep your eyes on the stage and you'll get a perfect view.'
The two Indian troopers came for her just after first light, binding her wrists roughly behind her back and dragging her out across the dusty parade ground to where the two lines of European soldiers stood ramrod straight in their fine red uniforms.
The young officer turned as Indira was thrown to her knees, an amused half smile flickering across his otherwise bland features. She glanced up at him once and then lowered her brown eyes, closing them so that she did not have to gaze upon her own nakedness and especially at the welt-striped mounds of her heavy breasts.
'This is part of the cargo that will accompany us to India, lads,' the lieutenant said, his reedy tones piercing the early morning air. 'Apparently she belonged to some nabob, but she escaped and hid away with some silly English wench and thought she'd become a lady's maid.'
There was a murmur of amusement among the ranks.
'We've been charged with taking the little brown hussy back to where she rightfully belongs, where they'll probably hang her, if they've got any sense. Her kind are nothing but trouble and they insinuate themselves among the weakest people, spreading their dirty foreign ways. This one, for instance, doesn't like men, wouldn't you know?'
The murmur of amusement became a much louder titter.
'Stick your vile tongue out girl and show these men. Quickly now, or I'll have the sergeant put you up and flog you again.'
Reluctantly, Indira extended her tongue to reveal the tiny gemstone adorning it.
'See that?' the officer cried. 'That's your pagan for you, and no mistaking. But what do you reckon she likes to do with her little ruby, eh? Why, she likes to put it into other women, would you believe?'
This time the soldiers laughed openly.
'Yes, this little heathen seeks to deprive us men of the love and respect of womankind. She used that little tongue of hers to deprave and corrupt a perfectly sweet and innocent English virgin, causing her to turn against her betrothed and all her family. Hanging's too good for her, I say!'
'Leave her with us for the day, sir,' came a voice from among the soldiers. 'We'll soon show her what she should be doing.'
'I dare say you shall, Corporal Barker, so I'll leave her in your charge. Just make sure she stays in one piece until we get to Bombay, otherwise it'll be you who gets put up for the flogging and I'll wield the cat myself, by God I will!'
Indira stared at the lines of men, the rough faces, the well-muscled bodies and the leering eyes. Better that they should hang her here and now, she thought, than subject her to what she knew she would suffer at the hands of these barbarians. The ship to India would take weeks, months even, and the voyage had yet to begin...
We didn't have long to wait. As the music began to fade, the lights over the dance floor dimmed and died and the stage lights came up. Then, from the wing nearest to our position, strode Carmen. She was clad now in a tight leopard-skin leotard, the long sleeves of which ended in claw-fingered gloves, and there was a tight shiny corselet belt about her waist that matched her spike-heeled calf-length boots. She was carrying a coiled whip, which suddenly snaked out over the heads of the three retreating blonde dancers with a resounding crack. Then she turned to face the crowd and a microphone rose on a stand from the front of the stage apron.
'Ladies and gentleman, good evening and welcome to Sanctum!'
There was a round of cheering and applause and the crowd that had been ringing the perimeter of the dance floor began pressing forward onto it, eager to find a good vantage point. I felt bodies pushing against me but my height, plus the additional advantage of my boots, meant my view remained unobstructed.
'As you all know,' Carmen began, 'our cabaret tonight includes many of our usual favourites, including Bella Donna, Lady Martina, Sir George and his Prancing Ponies, and our favourite drag queen, Fanny Gaslight.'
There was another ragged cheer.
Carmen smiled benignly. 'As ever, of course, we are open to all amateur talent and I think I can promise you one or two treats for later on. However, I thought I would start the proceedings tonight with a little treat of my own, a delicious little morsel of a girl with that little added factor so many of you appreciate.'
A wave of laughter greeted this remark.
'So, I shall waste no more time and give you Andrea, our very own little cockette!'
This time the applause was thunderous even though no one knew what was coming, and cheers rose from the crowd as the new star was pushed forward from the wings.
Of course, I wasn't surprised that it was our Andrea who appeared, but I was totally unprepared for the way in which she had been gotten up for her stage debut. Her face was its usual self, only made-up a little heavier, the foundation a little paler to emphasise the contrasts of her eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. From the top down she had been dressed completely in white - what there was of her costume, that is - but whether it was now correct to refer to her as feminine was a matter for debate. I saw that her neck had been braced with a posture collar not dissimilar to my own save for the colour and for the fact that it was made of leather as opposed to thick rubber. Her torso, from her neck to a point just above her navel, was clad in a tight top of stretchy white fabric through which it was possible to see two very large and very realistic looking nipples outlined at the tips of two extravagantly full breasts. These breasts were thrust into even greater prominence because her arms had been laced together behind her back within a single glove of white leather, her elbows nearly touching, her shoulders drawn back into what must have been a very uncomfortable position.
From head to waist, including the glittering green jewel now adorning her navel, Andrea was her feminine self, however, from there on down - if one discounted the white stockings and suspenders and the thigh-high white boots with their mandatory spiked heels - she presented a different aspect altogether and one which had me staring at her, wide-eyed. Of course, I've seen and even used such restraints since, but this was my first encounter with such a piece of clothing-come-equipment, so I shall describe it to you as it appeared to me then. It comprised a belt, from the front of which descended a triangular piece of white leather into which, at a strategic height and position, had been cut a circular hole around the edge of which, held there by tiny straps, ran a thick chrome-plated steel ring. Somehow or other, Carmen had succeeded in getting Andrea's cock and balls out through this ring, a feat which at the time I could scarcely credit, though having since learned a little more of the secrets of the male anatomy I know it can be achieved with the correct manipulation, a certain degree of care and no little amount of skill and patience. The triangle's apex, which pointed downwards, of course, was then drawn tightly by means of an attached leather strap that ran back up between the thighs and buttocks to where it cinched to the back of the belt, holding the whole thing snugly against the lower abdomen. Then, below the front opening, there was another thin strap, which had been buckled about the top of poor Andrea's scrotum so her balls were cramped inside the sac to the extent that the hairless flesh actually gleamed. As if this were not enough, and in Carmen's eyes it plainly was not, Andrea's cock was then held upright against the leather by means of several additional st
raps buckled tightly at brief intervals, the fourth and highest strap being tightened just behind the bulbous purple head.
I now know that such a restraint can be employed in two ways. One way is to stretch the semi-flaccid shaft and tighten the straps severely, which holds it apparently rigid and makes a full erection, as such, impossible, the blood flow generally succeeding only in swelling the head and top inch or two above the last strap. The second method is to first coax the erection and then employ the straps afterwards. I know of one mistress nowadays who, once she has fitted the main restraint, administers a dose of Viagra, or something similar, to her slave and awaits the inevitable result before using the straps. The slave's erection thus lasts for hours and the restraint has to remain on until the effects of the medication wear off, for it is impossible to retract cock and balls through that ringed opening whilst the former remains engorged. Back in the nineteen seventies there were no reliable medications of that kind, but there were other aphrodisiacs in herbal form and the correct stimulation at relevant intervals was enough to ensure that the slave's organ remained in the desired condition. Carmen, it seemed, preferred this method for she reached down and cupped Andrea's ball sack in one hand, squeezing it gently, and I saw her victim's eyes roll back at the contact.
Thyme II Thyme Page 10
