Ruth Restrained

by Krys Antarakis

  Ruth stared at the gagged girl trying to understand why she seemed so familiar. Perhaps she had seen her at Judy’s party as one of the slaves, or maybe as a guest. She searched her memory, until suddenly recognition dawned and she was transported back to that fateful day when she parked in the market square and ran into Elsa. This was the girl who had walked away from an adjacent car, the prim and proper ice maiden herself. Ruth stared at her as she ladled soup into Lewis’s bowl, scarcely able to believe her eyes.

  Something brushed her arm, and she turned her head sharply to find the girl wearing the chastity belt leaning over her. It was one of the weights hanging from her breasts that had touched her arm.

  ‘Soup, madam?’ the serving slave enquired with a pleasantly lilted Scandinavian accent. One of her breasts had been decorated with words tattooed around her aureole, Lisette, property of Conrad.

  ‘The girls expect to be touched,’ their host announced. ‘Lisette has been confined for misbehaviour, and she will appreciate her wickedness all the more when her weights are pulled. Corinne suffers from too free a tongue, and a thoughtless display earlier today has won her the gag. But she can still communicate through her bell, which I request no one remove, please.’

  Ruth glanced across the table at Lewis, who had been seated opposite her. He caught her eye, and framed the word ‘wow’ with his lips. She responded by running the tip of her tongue along her upper lip, and smiling at him lasciviously.

  ‘Uncle always provides good entertainment over dinner,’ Jack Thorpe commented from where he sat on Ruth’s left.

  She turned to him, and saw that he was feeling Lisette’s bottom, running his palm over the delicate curve of her buttocks where it was spread by the thick strap of the chastity belt.

  ‘Pity about this, though,’ he added, tapping the casing enveloping Lisette’s sex.

  ‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ the slave murmured. ‘I humbly apologise for spoiling your pleasure.’

  ‘Too late now, but I expect I shall enjoy seeing you properly punished later.’

  ‘I’m certain of it, sir. I hope you find my chastisement entertaining.’

  ‘That’s what I like to see.’ He gave her buttock a sharp smack. ‘A girl who really knows her place.’

  After they had served the guests, Corinne and Lisette placed the tureens on the sideboard and stood quietly by, waiting. Their stance was studied – hands clasped behind their backs and their feet placed well apart, their shoulders straight and their chests thrust forward. They gazed straight ahead, avoiding any eye contact.

  When all the diners had finished their soup, the girls retrieved the tureens. Corinne took a position at the head of the table, and even though she stood perfectly still, her bell tinkled.

  ‘She’s enquiring whether you would like more,’ Aisha interpreted for everyone’s benefit even while addressing Lewis directly.

  Ruth gazed at Corinne in amazement, and felt the bitter taste of envy for the first time. The beautiful slave must have rung the bell by flexing her vagina. She would have to learn how to control her inner muscles that well.

  The dinner progressed smoothly. A light poached fish course was followed by roast lamb and grilled vegetables. Dessert was a selection of mouth-watering confections along with a sumptuous cheese board, and a carefully selected wine complemented each course.

  The two slave girls collected a lot of attention as they served and cleared, alternating sides so they were both equally available to all the guests. Ruth found Lisette’s weights irresistible, and took great pleasure in lifting each bauble to tease the nipple supporting it. Lisette stood perfectly still while she was touched, totally in control of herself, perfectly concealing her responses and thus frustrating Ruth’s burning curiosity as to how much hurt or pleasure her actions were generating in the other girl.

  Corinne was more accessible. Ruth discovered how pleasant it was to caress and finger a very moist pussy while being served exquisite food. Afterwards, the scent of feminine juices lingered on her fingers and seemed to enhance the flavour of each dish. If Corinne recognised or remembered Ruth from that afternoon in the square, she did not reveal it, and took all the attention she received with commendable equanimity. Ruth noticed that Corinne bore no tattoo, but on the outer part of one thigh, between her knee and her hip, was a distinct mark in the shape of a decorative letter K. The scar had the texture of a burn, and she realised with a shock that Corinne had been branded.

  Ruth enjoyed herself with the two serving slaves while conversing with Conrad on her right and Jack on her left. Jack continued to exercise the same fascination that had first gripped her in the garage office, but it was to Conrad she was powerfully drawn, and it was to him she talked about her life and her ambitions. Her attraction to her enigmatic host grew more powerful by the minute, and each time she looked towards Lewis the table seemed to have grown wider between them.

  When Conrad suggested the party retire to the drawing room she quickly sought her partner, slipping her hand into his to feel the security the contact filled her with. They were last in line, except for Conrad and Aisha, who were also holding hands.

  Ruth let out an involuntary gasp of delight when she entered the drawing room. ‘Oh look!’ she cried, sounding like a child who has just won a gift certificate to a toyshop. ‘It’s a Parry!’

  The landscape hung above the fireplace. Like the paintings at Broughton, it was one of a series Ruth had not yet seen, and yet she knew instantly that it was a Parry from its style and composition.

  ‘Excellent,’ Conrad said from behind her. ‘Of course, neither you nor Lewis has seen my house. Allow me to offer you a guided tour.’

  ‘That would be a privilege,’ Lewis accepted the offer with alacrity.

  Conrad smiled. ‘There is much that you will find interesting, I’m sure.’

  Leaving Aisha to serve as hostess in his absence, Conrad led Ruth and Lewis out into the hall. Turning towards the rear of the house, they passed a door identified as leading into the kitchen by the sounds and aromas escaping from within. Ahead of them, a pair of swinging double doors took them from the house proper into a large vaulted extension. Ruth stared around her in amazement, sensing Lewis’s excitement through the tightening of his fingers around her own. Both sides of the gallery were hung with pictures. On the left were nudes, many overtly erotic. And on the right hung the most comprehensive collection of Parry paintings she had ever beheld. She felt overwhelmed by the sight.

  ‘So you’re the collector responsible for the escalation of Parry’s value,’ Lewis mused.

  ‘Regrettably,’ Conrad admitted. ‘When I bought my first Parry he was virtually an unwanted Victorian curiosity. Of course, now that his prices have soared, I shall never be able to acquire the whole of his work. However, I think I now own the best representative collection of Parry anywhere in the world.’

  ‘You must accept the honour of having restored the artist’s reputation,’ Lewis said soberly. ‘He’s finally recognised for the truly great painter he is. Students now seriously study him, as Ruth did.’

  ‘And she became one of the leading authorities, I hear. It is partially her fault that I shall have to offer an exorbitant bid for Quincy’s pair.’

  ‘She would be the foremost authority on Parry if only she would publish,’ her fiancé and employer said proudly.

  Conrad turned to her. ‘Tell me, Ruth, how do you rate my collection?’

  ‘I’m overcome! It’s truly magnificent. I could spend hours in here.’

  ‘As I do myself. I would be delighted to enable you to study them in depth, if you wish.’

  ‘Thank you! Of course, there would be distractions... so many of these other works are equally arresting.’ She indicated the nudes.

  ‘I buy what I like where erotica is concerned, though a few are commissioned. This one, for example.’ He indicated a large full-length portrait
occupying a central spot on the far wall.

  The painting was hard to miss and Ruth had already registered the subject. The beautiful slave, Zelda, was depicted chained naked to a rock and threatened by a fiery dragon hovering menacingly on her right.

  ‘One of Zelda’s favourite fantasies,’ Conrad said, reading Ruth’s mind. ‘The dragon rapes her.’

  ‘Zelda is your slave.’

  ‘Put crudely, yes. We have a complex relationship that satisfies both our needs. Our association is rooted in a mutual respect and trust some people might describe as a form of love.’

  Ruth studied the framed photographs hung adjacent to the painting. Some were posed, while others were clearly camera verité, telling evidence of the absolute trust Zelda possessed in her master. She felt her belly tighten, and the gusset of her tiny panties clung damply to her vulva. ‘Do you photograph all your slaves?’ she asked, the catch in her voice betraying her emotions.

  ‘Of course, it’s a testimony to their fidelity.’

  ‘How many slaves do you have?’ Lewis asked curiously. ‘Recruitment must be rather difficult.’

  ‘In all, I probably have ten slaves who are still active. As to recruitment, it just happens. Zelda was my first success after a long, hard search. After her, the others came easily and voluntarily. The foremost rule is that there must be no coercion involved. The submission I demand is based on consent. Nothing happens without consent.’

  ‘Even branding?’ Ruth asked softly.

  ‘Even branding. You’ve noticed Corinne’s mark, I see. All my slaves, as you call them, carry my mark. Each chooses the mode of marking that suits them best. The only rule that applies is that the mark must not be concealed when they are with me. Hence Lisette’s breasts can never be covered in my presence, that is her little conceit, and Zelda must discard the wig she wears in public.’

  Ruth looked confused.

  Conrad smiled. ‘Of course, you could not see it the other evening due to your own involvement in the scene. Zelda carries a tattoo on the crown of her head.’

  ‘And Aisha? I couldn’t see Aisha’s mark.’

  ‘Aisha is not a slave. Aisha is an employee. She is my housekeeper, and Tali, her twin, is my cook.’

  ‘But she goes naked and calls you master.’ Ruth’s confusion deepened.

  ‘It is her choice to do so. Aisha and Tali grew up in a commune on a privately owned island in the Caribbean. They went naked from birth. When they were in their teens the authorities decreed the environment to be depraved. The leaders were arrested and everyone younger than eighteen was taken to what they termed “a place of safety”. Aisha and Tali were sent to an institution in the States, their parents were imprisoned. At eighteen they were thrown out on the streets. I found them in New York. They were homeless, hooked on drugs and prostituting themselves to survive. I brought them home with me and allowed them to live the life they desired. It was their choice to work for me, and their choice to call me master. Aisha said it came naturally to her. Now they live as my wives. Tell me, how old would you say Aisha is?’

  ‘No more than twenty,’ Lewis guessed.

  ‘She’s thirty-years-old. If that isn’t a testimony to the benefits of nudity and liberated sexuality, tell me what is. Now, enough of this, and let’s continue our tour. There is so much more that might interest you both.’

  Beyond the vaulted hallway they entered what Ruth supposed must have been the farm range. Although extensively modified and carpeted, clues remained in the brickwork and the low ceiling. A corridor led to a much loftier area, and her stomach knotted again at what she beheld. In addition to a comprehensive collection of familiar exercise machines were all kinds of frames, stools, boxes, poles, bars, pillories and cages. The walls were festooned with chains, dark leather harnesses, collars, whips, canes and paddles. Finally, a large glass case held row upon row of dildos of every imaginable size and configuration.

  ‘This is our training suite,’ Conrad explained. ‘Postulants have to be fit, but most importantly they are taught to trust and assisted in exploring the limits of their sexuality. I’m sure Ruth has already learnt how pain and sexual pleasure are interwoven. For some people there is no distinction whatsoever. For them, extreme suffering can bring exquisite experiences that surpass the most intense sexual orgasm. But not all who have the inclination can reach that pinnacle of perfection. Here they learn to discover and accept their limits.’

  Lewis looked around him, taking stock of the bewildering array of devices. ‘Amazing... I recognise many of these pieces as adjuncts to corporal punishment. What of the others?’

  ‘Spanking, whipping, caning, these are the most common forms of punishment that complement sexuality, and we can take subjects to the highest level in these areas. Others find that being restrained heightens sexual arousal – Ruth, for instance. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘Being tied up is a very potent aphrodisiac for me.’

  ‘Exactly, and an extension of that is sensory deprivation. See here?’ Their host slid open the door of a closet. On hangers were dozens of rubber suits, and on a shelf above them dummy heads displayed rubber and leather masks and bridles. Ruth was immediately fascinated by a tight rubber mask that sported a solid penis where the mouth should be, and she knew instinctively the base extended inward to form a gag. The thought of wearing it to fuck Elsa or Oona made her feel hot all over.

  ‘For example,’ Conrad went on complacently, ‘we can fit a subject with one of these masks to cut out all sensory inputs except touch. She is then securely fastened and a vaginal dildo inserted. This becomes her sole source of sensation. As time passes she begins to please herself until she achieves orgasm. Unlike normal sex the arousal does not fade, so she begins another cycle. In this way she learns to focus all her attention in her vagina and develops the facility to seek continuous stimulation. The same techniques can be adapted to all forms of sexual activity. I fancy Ruth would like to test some of these herself.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she whispered, glancing at her partner. ‘I could spend days in here.’ Her heart was pounding and her body was aflame with need. Lewis took hold of her hand, and his touch sent a tingling current of sensation directly to her nipples and her pussy. She instinctively cupped herself through the filmy silk of her skirt, and felt that the fabric was wet.

  ‘What is your estimate of your capabilities, Ruth?’ Conrad asked her abruptly.

  ‘Properly inspired, I don’t think I’d have many limits at all,’ she replied fervently.

  ‘Well spoken. Now come, there is more to see.’

  From the barn they moved into another wing. Conrad swung open a door, and Ruth found herself looking into a stable. It was clean, with freshly whitewashed walls and hay spread out as a bed. Along the front edge of the space the brick flooring was depressed to form a drain, and in a near corner there was a tray of sawdust. Ruth wondered at its purpose. She sniffed the air seeking the smell of horses, but the scent that greeted her was more domestic, and the truth dawned slowly through her stunned mind – this was not the home of a horse.

  Conrad nodded. ‘You’re right. This is Corinne’s stable. She would not clear her tray, hence the gag. We have four boxes such as this, and in the next bay there are six stalls. When we run our festival they will all be occupied, either by my own girls or by visiting competitors.’ He led his awed guests out into the open air and a quadrangle hemmed in by the farm buildings. ‘Another training area.’ The yard floor was bricked over, and there were several walls and a variety of wooden constructions. In the centre stood a thick pole with a crosspiece from which dangled a variety of pulley blocks. ‘The far side of the range is given over to garages and workshops, not part of the training facility, which continues in our indoor school. For practical purposes we are listed as an equestrian school. It will ease the sale should I ever decide to retire from my hobby.’

  Ruth and Lewi
s followed their host into a large, modern space. Low barriers created narrow spaces with bench seating, while the main part of the vast floor was given over to an arena covered in gymnastic matting. Here and there were stacked pieces of equipment, and Conrad stood by with an expression of proprietary pride as his guests drank in the details. ‘A very useful place in the winter,’ he pointed out. ‘Of course, the best place for any sexual contest is out of doors, but this makes it possible at any time of the year. I shall send you invitations to the next meeting. I’m sure Ruth will enjoy competing.’

  She gazed at him in awe. In a matter of minutes her horizons had expanded beyond her wildest imaginings. Work, career, marriage and a family were all suddenly unimportant. She was ready to commit every moment of her life to achieving her new ambition. She looked at Lewis, trying to gauge how far he had been swayed and how much latitude he would allow her.

  ‘What do you think?’ Conrad’s question was addressed to both of them.

  ‘Impressive,’ Lewis replied. ‘There is much more to this persuasion than I had ever imagined. I must get you to explain things to me in more detail sometime.’

  ‘The only boundary is your imagination,’ Conrad stated emphatically.