by Anna Cundell
Clare reacted immediately. The hot breath and the lips of the woman, wet with semen, created a new wave of pleasure and she came too, not as intensely as before but still with a force and intensity that took her by surprise. The tight rubber that encased her body seemed to trap the pleasure, holding it in, until the last delicious shiver had finally died away.
‘Come on ladies, playtime over,’ the blond man said, hauling Mandy to her feet.
The driver untied the rope that bound Clare’s hands to the tree and lowered her arms. She felt a huge surge of pain as the blood flowed back into her trapped muscles. Tears welled in her eyes and she could not stop herself sinking to the ground. But the extraordinary thing was that the pain was immediately transmuted into pleasure and she shuddered again, the pleasures of her orgasms echoing in her body.
The driver picked her up, took hold of the zip and pulled it through her legs and up to her throat, only pausing briefly to settle her breasts back into the rubber. Then he led her to the van. As she climbed inside again she saw the blond man securing Mandy to the van wall by the white leather cuffs.
Clare thought she heard her whisper the words, ‘Thank you’, before she opened her mouth wide to allow the ball-gag back between her lips. The blindfold was reapplied too.
The two men manoeuvred Clare onto the padded bench and soon had her tied down as before, with the leather blindfold over her eyes. It was different now, though. In the total blackness each wrench tightened one of the straps, each casual movement of their hands against her rubber-encased body produced a huge wave of sensations deep in her sex – secret sensations she cherished.
‘She’s still not had enough,’ the blond man said.
‘The new ones are always like that,’ said his accomplice.
‘Yeah, but not normally after a good shagging.’
‘Come on, we better get going. If the doctor finds out what we’ve been up to there’ll be real trouble.’ The way the driver said this, Clare thought, was oddly stilted as though he was reading from a script.
‘Oh yeah, right,’ the other man responded. ‘He mustn’t find out. And you, girl, remember, if the good doctor finds out about this you’ll be in big trouble.’
Clare heard footsteps on the metal floor, then the doors slammed shut. She listened. This time it seemed the two men were in the front of the van.
Moments later the engine started and the vehicle pulled away.
Chapter Three
Despite the discomfort of being strapped down Clare dozed off, and then awoke suddenly with a start. For a moment she forgot where she was and tried to sit up, the unyielding leather restraints instantly and rudely reminding her of her position.
What had woken her she did not know, but the van was travelling slowly now and she could hear the distinctive crunch of gravel under the tyres. After a few minutes it came to a halt. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep and therefore how far they’d come. She heard the doors at the front of the van opening and slamming.
For what seemed like a long time nothing happened and she lay there, becoming increasingly aware of the pain in her muscles and limbs from being so tightly constricted for so long. The only sound she could hear was what she imagined was the woman in the leather harness, moving slightly against her bonds.
In the cocooned state Clare was in it was difficult to keep track of time, but it seemed to be quite a few more lengthy minutes before she heard the door at the back of the van swing open and felt a rush of cold air, and her heart started to pound in anxious anticipation.
The removal of one sense seemed to have sharpened some others, particularly her hearing and smell, and confirmation that the new arrival in the van was female came from the staccato clack of high heels, the rasp of nylon against silk, and the waft of richly potent perfume. The footsteps passed Clare by and went to the back of the van.
‘You’ve got yourself into quite a state, haven’t you, Mandy?’ a sultry voice purred.
‘Amm…’ came the muffled reply.
‘The leather between your legs is very wet,’ the newcomer went on. ‘Have you been working yourself against the straps?’
‘Amm…’
‘You know I’ll have to report this to the doctor, don’t you?’
Footsteps came back towards Clare, and she felt a weight settle on the bench beside her hips.
‘Good morning, my dear,’ the woman cooed. ‘How nice to see you again. My name is Jacqueline Fellowes. You will call me Ms Fellowes.’
A hand ran over Clare’s rubber-covered buttocks, caressing them tenderly. With unerring accuracy a finger traced the stripes the whip had delivered, as if Ms Fellowes knew exactly where they were. The touch revived their burn and Clare could not suppress a gasp.
‘Have you ever been whipped before?’
‘Um, no,’ Clare mumbled.
‘I told you to call me Ms Fellowes.’ The rebuke cracked like a gunshot.
‘No… no, I haven’t, Ms Fellowes.’
‘That’s better.’ The voice became softer again. ‘You’re going to be taken into the house now. I’ll see you both again shortly.’
The heels and the perfume moved away, and almost immediately heavier footsteps thumped into the van and Clare felt the straps being freed. She was pulled roughly to her feet and lifted bodily over a muscled shoulder. Steps must have been positioned at the door of the van as she felt the man carrying her walk down them before his feet crunched on the gravel drive.
She had no idea what time it was, but it was still cold. The noise of gravel faded and was superseded by a heavy march of boots on stone or concrete. This changed again as she thought she heard a door opening and the feet stepped onto a carpet, and a few seconds later she was being carried down a flight of stairs. At the bottom the floor sounded like wooden floorboards. Another door opened and hands hauled her down and lay her flat on what felt like a bed.
The door closed and she was alone. She struggled to sit up, but with her arms glued so tightly behind her back even this simple movement was difficult, her shoulders spasming with cramp. She managed to swing her feet to the floor then force her torso up.
The door opened again, and the slightly muffled sound of the heels on wood and the scent of perfume entered the room. ‘Disorientating, isn’t it?’
‘Y-yes, Ms Fellowes,’ Clare stuttered anxiously.
‘Oh, very good, you’re a quick learner. That bodes well for the future. Stand up and turn around.’
Clare did as she was told. She sensed Ms Fellowes moving behind her and then, to her enormous relief, felt the rubber confining her arms peeling away. The relief was so great she swayed and felt the other female steadying her.
‘I’m going to take your blindfold off now, so you better close you eyes.’
Clare felt the material being pulled away, and even with her eyelids tightly closed the light penetrated them and made her wince. It was quite a few moments before she could cautiously open them.
‘Stand still and open your legs,’ the woman ordered her, and then the zip of the cat-suit was being pulled down. ‘Now, take it off.’
Clare’s sight was fuzzy at first, and she could just make out the woman who stood in front of her. Then as her sight cleared she recognised her. Jacqueline Fellowes was the blonde receptionist from Dr Hammer’s office, holding a knife which she’d used to slice the sleeves of the cat-suit, leaving them in shreds.
‘But, I don’t understand,’ Clare said.
‘What don’t you understand, exactly?’
‘Well, I thought I was supposed to report here at the appointed time, but those men…’ she gestured at the cat-suit. ‘And all this?’
‘Your treatment has already begun,’ Jacqueline Fellowes cut in. ‘From now on you will do as I say.’ She was wearing a tailored grey suit with shiny black stockings and high-
heeled shoes, very much as she had been in the office the day Clare had initially seen Dr Hammer. Even her blonde hair was pinned in the same tight chignon. Her complexion was flawless and her deep blue eyes looked steadily at Clare.
‘But,’ Clare’s head was in a spin, ‘I thought?’
‘If you want to change your mind about the treatment say so now. You are free to leave. The van will take you straight back to London. Is that what you want?’
Clare was confused. Everything that had happened to her since leaving home was so unexpected and so bizarre it almost felt like she had dreamt it. But she knew full well that she had not. What’s more, she knew something profound was happening to her. Dr Hammer had diagnosed that her sleeplessness was due to some form of sexual repression. Though she had been prepared to accept his offer of therapy she never really imagined he was right; she was convinced that sexually she was normal. But the extraordinary sexual feelings she’d had after her consultation made her feel there was perhaps something in what he said. The way her body responded to what the two men did to her in the clearing, let alone the shameful attentions of the woman, had confirmed it. There was no denying the bondage and the whipping excited her too. She felt she was venturing into a new dimension and though the idea of subjecting herself to more of the same was frightening, it was also incredibly exciting. ‘No,’ she said, ‘that’s not what I want.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ the woman snapped. ‘So now you will do as I say. And remember to call me Ms Fellowes.’
Hesitantly, not used to stripping in front of another woman, Clare began to peel off the torn arms of the cat-suit. She pushed the rest of the garment down to her waist, then sat on the bed, took off the boots, and inched the rubber off her legs.
‘There’s a strong aroma of sex in here,’ Ms Fellowes said, and she was right. The skintight rubber had trapped it. ‘Have you had an orgasm?’
Clare could not think of a convincing lie.
‘Answer me,’ Ms Fellowes snapped.
‘Yes, Ms Fellowes.’
‘Why was that?’
‘I…’ Clare remembered the blond man’s warning. ‘I’ve never been bound before… that and the rubber… I couldn’t help myself.’ It was at least partly true.
‘And the whipping?’
‘Yes, that too.’ It was obvious from that remark that the men were acting on instructions from Dr Hammer when using the whip on her.
‘Mmm… good. I will tell Dr Hammer. I think he’ll be pleased.’
Clare finally managed to free herself from the rubber, and Ms Fellowes picked it up and headed for the door. ‘What happens now, Ms Fellowes?’ the bemused girl asked.
The woman turned sharply. ‘First, you will not speak unless spoken too. If you do not learn that you will be gagged. Second, what happens to you now is totally and absolutely up to Dr Hammer.’ With that she marched out and slammed the door, and the unmistakable grind of a key turning in the lock echoed around the room.
Clare got to her feet, stretching the sore muscles in her arms and shoulders, and looked around. The room was small and square with no window and a single overhead light bulb. The only furniture was a double bed with a metal frame and a thin mattress, with no apparent bedding. Ominously, she saw four black metal rings bolted to the wall. There were two roughly six inches off the floor and about four feet apart, and the other two in a vertical line six foot above them. It was not difficult to imagine their purpose.
On the wall opposite, mounted high up in one corner, was a CCTV camera. There was a low arch on one side of the room that led to a small washroom with a shower cubicle, basin and toilet.
There was a bar of soap and a single towel. Clare enjoyed a quick shower and then rubbed herself dry. She stared into the mirror above the washbasin for a moment, and though her face looked the same as always she felt completely different. Straining to look over her shoulder she managed to see her buttocks, and the three bright red stripes decorating them.
She returned to the bedroom and lay down on the bed, the stripes on her bottom tingling against the rough material of the mattress. It gave her a little frisson of pain, which quickly turned to a spasm of pleasure, so she eased her legs open and ran her hand down between her thighs. Her clitoris was hot and eager… then suddenly she remembered the camera and tore her hand away as if it had been burnt.
However long she had slept in the van it wasn’t enough, and her eyes felt heavy. She wondered where Dr Hammer was. No doubt he was somewhere in the house. Had he watched her arrive? Was he watching her now through the camera? She remembered his dark brown eyes and the effect they’d had on her…
Her sleep was completely uninterrupted. For the first time in over a year she’d had no nightmares to wake her. She had no idea how long she’d been out for, but she felt rested and strangely relaxed considering the unusual circumstances she found herself in, and the fact that the single overhead light in the room was left on the whole time. She certainly hadn’t expected the therapy to have such immediate effects.
Sitting up she saw a tray of food had been left by the door. She realised she was extremely hungry and devoured the salad, cold meat and fruit, enjoying every last crumb, and as she dabbed her lips with the napkin provided the heavy door was unlocked and opened.
A slender girl walked into the tiny room. She had a slightly Asian slant to her jade green eyes, her skin was smooth and faultless and her long black hair was braided into a neat single plait, which hung down her back. She was dressed in a white lycra body that clung to every sleek curve of her body and was cut high on her hips, white fishnet tights and calf-length white leather boots. The narrow crotch moulded tightly to her sex. She had firm breasts and the shadows of her nipples could be detected through the sheer material, as could her neatly trimmed pubic hair.
‘Who… who are you?’ Clare asked tentatively.
‘My name is Jade,’ she said, placing a nylon holdall and make-up case on the floor beside the bed. ‘I have to help you get ready. You will do as I say and ask no more questions.’
Clare felt her heart thump excitedly; at last she was going to be taken to see Dr Hammer.
‘Make-up, first,’ Jade said, sitting elegantly on the edge of the bed beside Clare and opening the case, then like a professional beauty therapist she stretched a band of white elasticated material over Clare’s hair to keep it out of the way.
‘Am I going to see Dr Hammer?’ Clare couldn’t help but ask.
‘No questions,’ Jade repeated. ‘Dr Hammer watch everything.’ She nodded at the camera, and then without another word she began to apply make-up to Clare. With no mirror Clare could not see what the lovely Asian was doing, but clearly the colours were not what she would normally choose for herself. They were clearly darker and heavier.
‘All right, now put these clothes on,’ Jade said, putting away the make-up and then bending gracefully from the waist to take a red satin corset with ruched suspenders from the nylon holdall. ‘It is tight, so I help you. Step into it first.’
Clare took the corset and obeyed. She pulled it up over her hips and waist, and was stunned to discover it had deep cups that fitted under her breasts, squeezing and supporting them without covering them at all.
‘You got nice breasts,’ Jade said, in her slightly stilted but extremely evocative tones, then quite casually she gently caressed one, like she was stroking a cat. ‘Now breath in.’
The girl gripped the lacing at the back of the corset firmly and began to pull it taut, working from the bottom, slowly cinching a few laces at a time, and Clare felt the boning biting into her waist and ribs. She had never worn a garment like it before. It tightened inexorably around her, reducing her waist and pushing her breasts together and up, forming a deliciously deep cleavage between them. ‘I… I can’t breath,’ she gasped.
‘Oh, you get used to it,’ Jade told her
dismissively. ‘We be able to get it tighter after a few days. Now put these stockings on, and the shoes. Make sure the seams are straight.’ She took a pair of silk stockings and a pair of red suede court shoes out of the holdall.
Clare wanted to ask a thousand questions, but after Jade’s warning not to she decided it would be imprudent to do so. So under the girl’s unwavering glaze she took the stockings out of the cellophane packet. They were a champagne colour but the Cuban heel and the seam was black. Carefully she rolled them into a pocket and pulled them up her legs. It was a long time since she had worn seamed stockings and it took a while to get the seams straight, especially as the tightness of the corset restricted her movements.
‘All right, now the shoes,’ Jade said.
One at a time Clare slipped her feet into them. The heels were so precipitously high she almost stumbled forward.
‘Walk up and down,’ Jade told her. ‘Take small steps, get used to them.’
Pacing the cramped room Clare discovered it was impossible to take anything other than very small steps, but there was no doubt the height of the heels helped enhance her shapely and slender legs. They shaped her calf muscles and firmed her already pert buttocks.
‘All right, now step into these.’ Jade had taken a pair of thong panties from the holdall. She held them so Clare could step into them, and then drew them up her smooth legs. They were no more than a tiny triangle of satin in the same red as the corset, supported by thin satin straps.
‘Good. Now hands behind your back.’ Jade produced a pair of white leather cuffs from the holdall, the metal links between them chinking against the D-rings set into the leather. She quickly strapped them around Clare’s wrists, and immediately Clare felt a sharp pulse of sexual excitement at being put into bondage again. She did not understand what was happening to her, but there was no doubt that this treatment had sparked something in the depths of her psyche that she had never realised was there.
Jade took a white leather collar from the holdall. She moved behind Clare and wrapped it around her neck, buckling it at the back. A large ring was fastened to the front of the collar, which was deep enough to force Clare’s chin up a little.
