by Anna Cundell
Again Jade delved into the nylon bag, and this time she produced two silver chains, four padlocks and a small white leather cuff. She quickly wrapped the cuff around Clare’s left ankle.
‘Now stand against the wall between the rings,’ she said. ‘Facing me.’
Again Clare did as she was told, and Jade took one of the chains and padlocked the last link at one end to the upper ring bolted to the wall on Clare’s left. She ran the chain through the ring on Clare’s collar then padlocked the other end to the ring on her right. The chain had little slack in it, and Clare was forced tighter against the wall.
Jade then padlocked the second chain in the same manner to the lower rings, passing it through a D-ring on the single ankle cuff. Then she stood back to admire her handiwork.
‘Just one more thing,’ she said, and returning to the holdall she took out a thin silver chain. Clare could see that attached to each end of it there was an odd looking oval of shiny metal.
Jade briefly pinched Clare’s already stiffened nipples, and then pressed the two sides of the metal oval together, opening two small jaws. Clare could see they were lined with rubber, which had tiny but sharp bumps all over its surface. The girl centred the jaws over the nipple then allowed the spring-loaded clips to close, trapping the tender flesh between them. Clare felt a surge of intense pain that brought tears to her eyes, and she gasped.
‘I love them,’ Jade said, repeating the process to the right nipple. ‘Make me very randy.’
The sharp pain mellowed slightly and was replaced by a throbbing ache, which soon turned to an unmistakable pleasure.
‘This will give you something to do with your mouth, hold it in your teeth,’ Jade said, lifting the chain and feeding it between Clare’s lips, causing her breasts to pull upward, making the clips bite even deeper and her nipples throb even more excruciatingly. ‘Make sure you do not let it slip, or Dr Hammer will be very cross.’
Looking Clare in the eye to judge her reaction, the Asian girl slid a hand down over Clare’s flat belly, briefly rubbing the satin of the panties back against her clitoris. Clare did not attempt to twist her body away; the idea of another female touching her so intimately was still difficult to accept but she couldn’t deny that it secretly excited her. She moaned, the pressure of Jade’s fingers calculated perfectly – too soft to satisfy, but firm enough to provoke.
‘So needy already,’ Jade said, then picked up the holdall and the make-up case and walked out without another word, locking the door behind her.
Clare shifted uneasily. The girl’s maddening touch had left such an impression on her, heightened by her tortured nipples, pulled taut by her own teeth. She tried to lower her chin to decrease the tension on the chain but the leather collar dug into her chin and she could not manage it.
She rubbed her thighs together, trying to stimulate her desperate clitoris, but found that impossible too. If she could have raised one thigh she could have achieved her objective, but she dare not risk it. The heels on the shoes were too high and her position on them too precarious, and she was afraid she’d lose her balance. Clare was quite sure this was exactly the outcome Jade had aimed to achieve, making her incredibly needy but without any means to satisfy her increasing cravings.
Clare stared up at the watching camera. She wondered if Dr Hammer was spying on her, and then as if to confirm her suspicions there was a whirr of electric motors and the lens revolved a semi-turn, zooming in on its chained subject. Clare raised her head defiantly and stared into the unblinking eye, pulling the chain tighter, wanting to show the doctor that she was taking her treatment bravely, that she was accepting exactly what had been prescribed for her, but the continuing tension in the nipple clamps made her groan and she almost lost her grip on the chain.
There was no way of telling how long she stood there, but the sexual tension in her body did not diminish. The incredibly tight corset seemed to get tighter, and her calf muscles began to ache from the taut position they were forced into by the high-heeled shoes, but she realised, with shock, that the pain she was feeling was only increasing the waves of excitement that were coursing through her. It was exactly what had happened when she’d been whipped in the van. It seemed her body had come up with some mechanism to feed off pain and turn it into profound sexual pleasure. Standing in bondage, unable to move more than a couple of diminutive steps to her right or left along the chain, her body clad in fetishistic clothes, she was unable to think about anything but sex and the need that seemed to be peaking in every nerve. Dr Hammer had told her that she had sexual needs she did not understand, and clearly his treatment was designed to prove it to her. She knew her sex was wet – so wet that when she rubbed her thighs together she could feel her juices seeping onto them.
Just then the door unlocked and opened again, and Jacqueline Fellowes walked in. ‘Good evening, my dear,’ she said. She was wearing a tight white top that clung to her breasts, and a black leather skirt. The top had a plunging neckline that revealed a shadowy cleavage, and the skirt was slit on one side almost to her hip, giving glimpses of slender thigh sheathed in sheer black stockings, and a thin black suspender.
‘Well, well, you’ve worked yourself into quite a state.’ She freed the chain from between Clare’s lips, allowing her breasts to ease back into the relative comfort of the corset.
‘I thought that was the general idea,’ Clare said boldly.
‘Oh, I see you’ve decided to inject a little spirit into your performance. I like that; it makes you more interesting. But do not be foolish enough to forget how I will be addressed.’
‘W-why am I dressed like this, Ms Fellowes?’ Clare pursued further. ‘Why have I been left here in chains?’
‘My dear girl,’ Ms Fellowes said breezily, ‘I would have thought that was perfectly obvious.’ She used a manicured finger to caress Clare’s cheek. ‘Have you worn nipple clamps before?’ she asked.
‘N-no, Ms Fellowes.’
Her fingers took hold of the clamp on Clare’s left nipple. ‘Well, you’d better brace yourself. The pain when they are applied is not nearly as bad as when they are removed.’ She opened the clamp, and immediately an excoriating pain, as the blood flooded back into the tortured nipples, made Clare cringe and moan.
‘I did warn you.’ She took hold of the other clamp and removed that too, and a second wave of pain, just as fierce as the first, made Clare rock back against the wall. But the pain was so interlaced with pleasure she had trouble differentiating between the two.
Ms Fellowes leant forward and touched the tip of her tongue against each nipple in turn. It was hot and wet and its touch so soothing it made Clare gasp. If Ms Fellowes had continued for even a few moments more Clare would have orgasmed, no matter how shaming that would be.
‘You’re very close, aren’t you?’ the austere woman whispered, straightening up.
‘Yes… yes I am, Ms Fellowes.’ Clare wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed the attention had ceased.
‘Why do you think that is?’
‘I…’ even if she thought she could, she really didn’t want to answer that question, ‘I don’t know, Ms Fellowes.’
‘Well consider it, and don’t worry, you’ll have lots of chances to express yourself later.’ Ms Fellowes produced a key and unlocked the four padlocks that secured the chains to the wall, and then threaded the chains back through the rings on the collar and the ankle cuff. ‘Turn around,’ she ordered.
Clare obeyed and felt the leather cuffs and the collar being removed, so she stretched her limbs and rolled her head from side to side to ease the cramp in her muscles. ‘What time is it, Ms Fellowes?’ she asked; in the windowless room she had no idea how long had passed.
‘It’s time for you to go upstairs,’ she was told.
‘To see Dr Hammer?’
‘Listen, I told you I admire a little
spirit, but don’t take it too far,’ Ms Fellowes warned. ‘Dr Hammer leaves me in charge of the details of his treatment. It’s up to me whether I go easy on you or not. I suggest you remember that. Don’t step out of line again or you will regret it. Do I make myself clear?’
Clare felt suitably admonished. ‘Yes, perfectly,’ she said meekly.
‘Yes perfectly, what?’ Ms Fellowes stared at her, her blue eyes unwavering. It was a test of wills, Clare knew.
‘Perfectly, Ms Fellowes,’ she conceded.
‘Good. Now follow me.’
Having been blindfolded on her arrival, Clare had not seen what lay outside her room. She found herself in a narrow corridor with a series of doors, identical to hers, on either side. Outside each door was a rack of hooks and hanging from these were a selection of leather straps, chains, blindfolds, gags and harnesses. It felt odd to be walking again without any form of restraint, though the corset and the high heels hardly made her feel normal.
‘Stop here,’ Jacqueline Fellowes ordered, and she selected one of the leather harnesses and two leather cuffs joined by a single metal link. Quickly she strapped the cuffs around Clare’s arms just above the elbow, cinching them together, pulling her shoulders back and thrusting her naked breasts out.
Ms Fellowes then continued to lead the way along the gloomy corridor. At the far end was a staircase, beside which was a small lift. She pressed the call button and the metal doors opened. Inside it was just big enough for two people.
Clare was intensely aware of her nipples. They were very sore and now, without the collar, she could look down at them again, and she could see the impression the jaws had left in the buds of flesh, still hard and erect.
They travelled up to the ground floor. The lift doors opened and Clare found herself in an impressive oak-panelled hall, with lancet arched doors and a vaulted wooden ceiling that gave it a gothic appearance. Through the large stone windows on either side of the imposing oak front door she was surprised to see it was dark outside, and a nearby grandfather clock told her it was eight o’clock. Somehow she had slept for most of the day!
A sweeping wooden staircase with a thick newel post carved with a complex heraldic shield led up to the first floor landing. There was a vast gilt framed mirror on one wall, and it took Clare a moment before she realised the lustrously made-up female in the tight red corset with her breasts jutting out so prominently was, in fact, her. The make-up was heavy and brooding, the eye shadow and eyeliner emphasising her green eyes.
A man and a woman were on their hands and knees working on the base of the stairs, polishing the already highly polished oak. Both wore the same bizarre costume; a bodysuit made from really thin rubber, like that used for surgical gloves. Stretched taut like a second skin the rubber was almost transparent, and a hood in the same material encased the head completely, apart from two slits for their eyes and one for their mouth.
‘Stand up,’ Ms Fellowes said to them, as she led Clare to the foot of the stairs.
The two got to their feet, and despite the bizarre costume, Clare recognised the woman immediately. It was Mandy, and her rubber suit had two cut-outs through which her breasts thrust. The holes were too small, severely constricting the smooth mounds of flesh, the nipples dark crimson.
‘Oh, of course, you know Amanda already, don’t you?’ the dominant woman mocked theatrically.
‘Yes, Ms Fellowes,’ Clare said.
‘And this is Carlo,’ Ms Fellowes went on.
The man was tall, with black hair and a Mediterranean complexion, and a body that looked as though it was used to regular exercise. The rubber suit he was wearing also had a cut-out, this one at crotch level, through which his penis and balls had been pulled. His cock was large and fully erect, a black leather strap tightened around its base and under his balls. From this a vertical strap ran up the underside of his cock, attached to which were a series of metal rings at regular intervals. The rings dug into his engorged flesh, creating deep ridges.
‘Impressive, isn’t he?’ Ms Fellowes said, seeing Clare staring at the man’s erection. Clare felt herself blush.
‘All right,’ Ms Fellowes went on, ‘get back to work, you two.’
The rubber-clad couple immediately got back on their knees and began polishing again, and the rubber was so tight and so transparent that Clare could see red stripes decorating the man’s buttocks.
‘Are they patients?’ Clare asked, so curious she’d forgotten the injunction against speaking without permission.
‘As you ask, no. On the contrary, they are quite cured. But let’s just say they requested a return visit. Now, no more questions or I shall have to gag you.’
Ms Fellowes led Clare through a large room with a gothic fireplace. Through a window Clare glimpsed below a circular gravel drive, in the middle of which stood a stone fountain lit by floodlights.
They walked along a panelled landing and came to a halt in front of a pair of impressive oak doors. Ms Fellowes knocked once and opened one of the doors without waiting for a reply. ‘Go in,’ she said, pushing Clare forward.
Clare tottered on the high heels. The room was large and every wall was lined with books. There was a stone fireplace in which logs burned on brass firedogs.
Dr Hammer was standing behind a large Victorian desk. He was on the phone, and did not look at either of the newcomers.
‘Well, you’ll have to make your mind up,’ he said into the receiver. ‘I can’t wait forever. You know the amount of money involved. Believe me, if you’re not interested there’s no shortage of people who are. Particularly for the redhead.’ He stopped and listened. ‘All right, I’ll give you one more day, but after that your option lapses. Is that clear? Good.’
He put the phone down and began to punch in another number. ‘What is it?’ he said irritably, without looking up from the digits he was stabbing with his forefinger.
‘The new arrival,’ Ms Fellowes announced.
The doctor interrupted his dialling, moved around the desk and looked straight into Clare’s eyes. ‘So I see,’ he said.
Clare returned his stare, and the effect on her was almost hypnotic, his eyes seeming to penetrate right through to her core.
Dr Hammer casually scrutinised her body, then raised a hand and brushed his palm against her nipples with the lightest of touches. She could not suppress a shudder.
‘Very sensitive,’ he mused, and his hand traced a line down the front of the corset to the satin of her panties. His touch was mere inches from her sex, and Clare felt it tingle in anticipation. ‘But I haven’t the time for this,’ he said. ‘You deal with her, Jacqueline. You know what to do. I’ll see her later.’
‘Certainly, doctor,’ Jacqueline Fellowes said, and immediately she took hold of Clare’s arm and ushered her out of the room.
Outside on the landing Clare struggled with her emotions. The effect of a few minutes in his presence had been profound. His brooding eyes seemed to have burnt themselves into her retinas, like the blur left after a fleeting glimpse directly into the sun, which made his sudden and offhand dismissal feel like a slap in the face.
Feeling strangely despondent she followed Ms Fellowes along the landing.
‘In here,’ the woman said, throwing a stout oak door open and standing aside so Clare could enter first.
The room was large and virtually empty. The walls and ceiling were padded and covered with a scarlet material. On the floor there was thick carpeting in the same colour. There were only two items of furniture – a large bed as wide as it was long, and a peculiar looking chair. The bed had a thick mattress covered in a black silk sheet, and there were several pillows and cushions in scarlet satin scattered on top of it.
The chair was a much more complicated affair. It appeared to be mainly made of some sort of metal, and had a small seat and a narrow back padded and c
overed in black leather. It also had arms, a headrest and two odd-looking stirrup extensions that were connected to the seat and clearly designed to support a person’s legs. Hanging at regular intervals from all of these were thick black leather straps.
Under the seat was a square metal box, and Clare could see various shiny steel mechanisms, gear wheels, pulleys and drive belts extending from it. On either side of the chair were two sturdy stainless steel frames at about waist height, and running between them and through the box under the seat was a thick circular metal rod.
Ms Fellowes moved around behind Clare and pressed into her back, her fleshy breasts squashing against her. Her hands ran down over Clare’s hips and caught hold of the thin waistband of the thong panties and pushed them down. The satin fell to the floor in a tiny, shimmering bundle.
‘Step out of them,’ Ms Fellowes ordered, and Clare did as she was told.
‘You will sit on the chair,’ Ms Fellowes said, then unbuckled the cuffs around her elbows.
Rubbing her arms to relieve the now familiar cramp in her muscles, Clare moved towards the chair, and for the first time since she’d climbed into the van outside her house she felt a real sense of foreboding. ‘What are you going to do to me?’ she asked tentatively.
‘You will be quiet,’ Ms Fellowes snapped.
Clare sat on the chair. The struts extending from the seat were semi-circular and her legs, bent at the knee, cradled into them, her shoes resting on the footrests at the end of each one. She hadn’t realised how much the back of the seat was tilted, and she found herself looking up at the ceiling, where she saw a camera like the one in her ‘cell’.
The heavy oak door opened again and a girl entered. Like Jade, she was oriental and had the same silky, olive complexion, but she was slightly taller and her black hair was cut into a neat bob. It seemed that everyone in the house, apart from Ms Fellowes and the doctor, was dressed in some bizarre manner, and this girl was no exception. Her outfit consisted of a tiny black leather corset, criss-crossed with laces at the front and decorated with silver studs. It was cut to fit snugly beneath her breasts, leaving their perfection fully naked. Attached to the top of it, in the centre, were two leather straps that ran up between the girl’s pert breasts and over her shoulders. Similarly, another two straps were attached to the bottom front and ran down between her legs on either side of her labia, pinching them slightly and making them stand out prominently. Her sex was completely hairless and glistened as though it had been oiled. A pair of thigh high leather boots with towering heels completed her sensual look.
