“Traps? Traps? Oh, you mean those traps,” Peter said, getting the meaning of his partner’s suggestion. “Sure, why not. Let’s trap her tits for awhile, at least until we think of something else. Manfred will like that.”
“Screw Manfred. Who cares what he likes?”
“No. She can’t screw Manny. Manny has Hilde to screw. I think she should stick to screwing the guy in Amsterdam. What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. What’s his name, Lucy?” The bound girl shook her head soundlessly.
“Okay. Where are they?”
“In your pack. Next to the super dongos.”
“I have them,” Peter said with a bit of triumph, after digging around in the large pack that had been leaning against the coach’s outside wall. He held out the two silver half globes one in each hand. Imagine an elongated, egg-shaped, metal sphere, about five or six inches in diameter, maybe ten inches long and cut in half. That’s what Lucy saw in Peter’s hands.
“Now, let’s see if they’ll fit this little cow.” Peter approached the bound girl with a half globe in each hand. She was able to see that the metal cup had other hardware attached to it, inside and out. He stopped in front of her and placed one of the silver devices on the floor and began to stuff Lucy’s left breast into the opening of the other.
The traps looked like large, hollow, metal breast forms. The back of each was open and had a flexible and adjustable metal band, like a large hose clamp, fastened at several points on the edge of the hollow globe. The metal band could be adjusted to a smaller diameter by turning an adjustment screw set in the top of the globe. The outside of the globe was shaped like a very large, shiny, metal breast. At the place where a nipple would be was what looked like a beer bottle cap. It had plug type wire connections and small hoses leading out of it. Peter carefully stuffed the soft breast tissue into the cold metal form, making sure that the nipple went in first and ended up behind the bottle cap-like opening in front. Lucy’s tits were large enough so that Peter had to work hard to get all the tissue into the trap before he tightened the compression fitting that closed the flexible band around the base of her breast. The circular band tightened until it had reduced the root of the breast to a much smaller, compressed diameter and retained the globe in place while squeezing the base of the breast and distending the rest of the flesh into the confines of the metal shell. Held in place by the constricting band, the heavy metal form hung from the girl’s chest like a metallic bra cup, leaving Lucy to contemplate what these two men had in store for her as the trap squeezed and dragged on her aching tit. The second trap went onto her right breast and the spring clamp was locked shut as well. A thin chain was fastened to the outside edge of the left cup, left under her arm, across her back under the roped arms and under the right arm, then locked to the right breast trap, forming a back band to the twin metal globes and pulling them to the sides. A small metal link was fastened between the cups at the cleavage and this combination of link and chain put enough tension on the cups to form a strapless bra of sorts.
“Now,” said Henry, hands on hips surveying the captive, “if you could only sing some Wagner.”
“I doubt she knows any,” retorted Peter, realizing that the twin traps did bear some resemblance to the metal bras sometimes worn by the Viking queens in Wagnerian operas. “Maybe a pointy helmet with horns would help,” he added to the allusion. “Also,” he said,” it’s time for a collar and some upward support of those things.”
“Nothing pointy in the pack,” said Henry. “But there is that little latex and leather job that you like so much,” he smiled with a combination of evil and humorous intent. Peter was already routing in the pack once again and came up with a bundle of black leather and rubber in his left hand.
“Think it’ll fit her, with all that long hair?” he snickered, unwrapping the bundle while Lucy stared at what was apparently her next torment in the man’s hands.
“Make it fit,” was the terse retort from Henry. “But first, let’s tape up her eyes and hair.”
They did. A bit of tape over a cotton make-up pad sealed her eyes. They gathered her lush, dark mane into a single ponytail at the top, not the back, of her head and wrapped an elastic band from her luggage cosmetic kit around the base of the tail.
The thick latex hood fit Lucy like it had been painted on her head, with her hair streaming out from the small hole at the top back. It took time to get it on right and Lucy did not make any effort to help with the encapsulation of her head with this slick, tight cocoon. The hood had a lower section that came down around her neck, reaching all the way to the collarbone and providing a complete seal of the skull and face with only two holes for the nose breaking the otherwise total capsule. Lucy huffed and snorted as the hood was being adjusted and both men worked to assure that her nostrils were aligned with the nose holes.
Once the latex hood was in place, they put the heavy leather helmet/hood over it, using the same careful techniques of fitting and adjustment until this too was smoothly covering every inch of the girl’s head, face and neck. The leather helmet had a thick collar at its base just above the zipper that ran from there to the collar around her thin, pulsating neck. It took some time to get all of her head into it, with both men pushing and straining to get the tight leather stretched over the girl’s latex-covered facial features. They positioned her nose in the too small nose space, shoved her strong smooth chin into the formed cup and pulled her pony tail hair up and back again until the top of the helmet was back as far as her ears, then they threaded the hair through the circular aperture at the top, rear of the helmet. Once the hair was in place and the latex-sealed nose, tape-sealed mouth, taped eyes and ears were in their places, the hood was pulled further back and the heavy Delrin zipper engaged. Then, with Henry pulling back and down and Peter pulling back and down on the other side, they zipped the enclosure shut, encapsulating poor Lucy in the stiffly secure structure that was in fact at least two sizes too small for her. The pressure was immense. Lucy struggled to free herself, to breathe and to get away from these crazy people who were doing these sadistic things to her. Once the collar was in place, they used a thin chain to finish the metal bra they had fashioned from the metal traps. The chain fastened to the top of each cup, went up and through rings on the collar and then down to the other cup, making a steel halter bra complete.
All of this seemingly random and painful activity had been carefully laid out in advance and Henry, Peter and the two others who joined the party in Munich followed precise plans they had been given for the young woman. They had explicit orders to sadistically torment her, using a range of BDSM techniques and devices, for the length of the trip, but not to do any long term harm whatsoever to her physically.
The foundation of this exercise, which involved recruiting and training the entire team at considerable cost, lay with Fabian Moumakis, a Dutchman, born in The Netherlands of wealthy Greek parents. He had met Lucy in Frankfurt a few months before and relentlessly courted her, sending messengers with flowers, jewels and other expensive, but thoughtful gifts. They had enjoyed a long weekend in Gstaad and even shared a room in the crowded resort hotel when two separate rooms had not been available. Out of deference to her, Fabian had spent three nights on the convertible couch in the room and she had enjoyed the bed. They danced until early morning hours at several fancy jet set night spots and dined privately at Michelin three star establishments where the owners and chefs had fawned over them and presented endless minute courses of artistically prepared dishes. Neither of them had any interest in drugs and they both drank moderately but had never gotten drunk or stoned together.
To Fabian’s initial surprise, there had been no sex between them. Lucy had demonstrated that she enjoyed Fabian’s attentions, but she had also said that, for her own reasons, it was important to her not to make sex a part of their relationship. At least for the time being, that they avoid it. Fabian discovered that Lucy, in her own private way of dealing with other people, was
something of a manipulative, dominating young woman. At first thought, Fabian was pleased that Lucy had not jumped into bed with him as so many other sweet young things had quickly done. He assumed that she had a set of higher standards or that perhaps this was simply her playing a game of courtship. But later on, he concluded that she would take whatever he offered, except sex. She would cuddle up close to him, allowing him considerable contact with her fully clothed body, but would then break away and engage in some other sexless activity when he persisted or sought to advance the contact. She had, on two different occasions when they were alone, engaged in an erotic strip tease, ending up in revealing bra, a tiny pair of transparent bikini panties and white stockings. She allowed him to fondle and touch, but he had gotten nowhere when he attempted to get her into bed. On their outings in private and in public, she was a brilliant, crowd-stopping trophy, well and sexily dressed. People turned and looked at her in restaurants and on the street. She returned their admiring glances with a smile and often a show of more leg than one might expect. Most people, Fabian thought, considered her to be a very delectable, gourmet dish. But he wasn’t getting anything more than the appetizer thus far. Fabian had become more and more perturbed. He finally concluded that this beautiful young woman was little more than a lovely, big breasted, long legged, conniving tease, taking his money, affection, status and attention and giving him only the pleasure of her lovely, but sexless company. This, the more he thought about it, infuriated him and thus, he had sought to make a secret deal, the first part of which was this First Class journey into Hell. He had met an American businessman in an Amsterdam hotel and, for a large amount of Euro cash, had arranged for Lucy to have what he and the businessman called “a permanent lifestyle change.” He fashioned a detailed and complex plan, the basis of which was telling her that he planned to take a short holiday from work and arranged a long week’s holiday for the two of them at Hotel de l’ Europe, a luxury 19th century palace in Amsterdam, not far from one of his city apartments. He booked a two room penthouse tower suite and invited her to fly to Amsterdam, sending her a round trip, first class ticket on KLM, the Dutch airline. Lucy agreed, but insisted on taking the train. He quickly altered the plan, dumped the hotel reservations, booked a premium, first class compartment on one of the crack ICE trains from Rosenheim, Germany, near where Lucy lived, to Amsterdam. He heard from the American that he had called together a special team of Fabian’s friends and experts from within Amsterdam’s BDSM scene, where, unknown to Lucy, he was a frequent and active player. Having already seen photos and some covertly taken videos of Lucy, the gang all agreed with the plan and began gathering the toys and tools needed to execute it with style. At their planning sessions, they jokingly christened the project as TOTICE, the acronym for Torment on the Intercity Express, taking a page from Agatha Christie’s mystery novel, Murder on the Orient Express. The crew included Henry and Peter, who got to Rosenheim with plenty of time to board the train ahead of Lucy, and Manfred and Gloria, who got aboard at the Munich Hauptbahnhof. Fabian remained distant from the execution, just in case anything went wrong. He took steps to assure that in the event of failure, his tracks would be well covered and the American would be the fall guy.
Thus, working under Fabian’s strict orders, the kidnapping crew tormented the stringently bound Lucy for hours, tying, strapping, chaining and retying her, propping her slim legs apart with a series of spreaders strapped to her legs above her knees and at her ankles. Holding her legs apart with these adjustable bars, they untied the ropes through her crotch, inserted larger and larger dongs into her body from front and back, turned the girl as she hung suspended on her hook, listening to and ignoring her whines and hissings through the double hoods. What sexual enjoyment she had denied Fabian was hers in a perverse sort of way, bound and tormented as she was, experiencing more orgasms on the trip then she had enjoyed so far in her entire life. By the time the train had covered the nearly 900 kilometers to Amsterdam, Lucy was still hooded, tied and impaled with two monster inflated probes up cunt and ass, held in place by a leather harness and more rope. Using a stout animal control net obtained from a company that supplied such things to animal trainers and zoos, they bound her into a tiny, compressed ball, head pressed to her knees, feet pulled up behind and roped to her ass. The rope net held her immobile. Nothing moved. She breathed carefully, working hard to get enough air through the hood’s twin tubes, into her compressed lungs. Her massive breasts, still captive in the steel traps, were jammed against her thighs, oozing out the sides of the cups and still chained as well.
The Munich team, pretending to be an oompah band, had brought several large cases and even a trunk, designed to hold a full sized tuba, aboard and with the help of the train conductor, they eased the boxes into the compartment, used the tools and devices on her for the entire night, then jammed the exhausted ‘girl ball’ into the trunk’s foam-lined interior and sealed her in, just as the train was slowing for its Amsterdam arrival. Peter inserted two small clear plastic hoses into the Lucy’s nostrils through the nose opening on the hood. These hoses connected to the outside of the trunk, and so Lucy got a little bit of the warm, dry air that circulated about the box as she was moved out into the aisle and then through the train door, carefully lifted to the platform and put on a wheeled cart. She whimpered, whined and screamed silent screams as the cart trundled down the cold platform, sucking cool air into her compacted body, praying that they’d let her out quickly when they got to where ever they were going.
Instead of going to the luxury hotel, the truck from the train station took her directly to the small warehouse outside the city, where she was off-loaded, cleaned up, and rebound in a leather body sleeve with a myriad of straps that restrained all of her limbs in a somewhat more comfortable, but similarly restrictive manner as the net she had been contained in. Her arms were strapped tightly to her sides, then straps were tightened and cinched around her ankles, above and below her knees, at mid thigh, waist, and finally, above and below her breasts. She again suffered the confinement of the double hoods, first in leather and then in skull compressing latex. Water and air were provided through holes in the hoods. Her body apertures were thoroughly plugged. Her Ears, eyes, mouth, vagina and rear were all plugged and covered so that she was a, soundless, blind, deaf and impaled statute, sealed in leather and latex for distant transport. Somewhat repackaged. Sealed in a larger crate, Lucy got an overnight flight west to Mistress Prudence’s estate in upstate New York. And that was how she got to be where she was now, waiting once again for someone to do something more terrible, more evil, to her. She didn’t know that she had screwed up Ms. Prudence’s plans. She didn’t know that she was now going back to the cell, to be chained to the wall again, with hands pulled up behind her back, securely attached to the back of her collar/breast harness, while the body piercings they’d just put into her were given a chance to heal. She was going to have her feet again chained closely together and her knees bound with the two tight metal straps, a the single chain link between them. She’d stand or sit in the cell, gagged except for meal times, sitting twice a day on the horrible chamber pot they’d plop her on. She’d wait and wonder. She wouldn’t know, because no one was going to tell her, that she was P Product 1289-36DD-22-34-1299 and she was headed for a small riding school in Vermont. She didn’t know much of anything about her future, but she would soon find out.
Chapter Sixteen
Arrival
The hydraulic probe that had been endlessly fucking Dori finally stopped its jabbing, its pumping, its twirling. Dori was exhausted. The night too had seemed endless. She was dry. Her cunt was dry. She hung in her bonds, sagging, worn out, sound asleep, the prong still embedded in her dried, crusty crotch. Dried sweat crusted along her sides, salty streams marked down the sides of her hanging breasts and thighs. Her night in the barn had been an event like so many others she experienced in the school. There was always something new around the corner, always something different that she never
, ever thought about before. Things sexual, things erotic, things painful and tiring, but regardless of the discomfort, Dori knew that she was now part of something that she always wanted and something she now wanted to go on and on. As the computer-governed fucker reamed her endlessly all night, Dori had, in moments of occasional lucidity, thought that this was an experience she could endure forever. Now, half asleep, she saw daylight coming into the windows in the barn and she wondered what would happen today.
She heard the truck drive up outside and she felt the blast of cold air as the barn doors were unlocked and held open while a small hand truck was wheeled inside and positioned at the doorway to the stall next to hers. She saw the large metal-strapped container and she wondered what was in it. Of course, in the back of her mind, she knew. She knew that inside was another pony girl and so she wasn’t surprised to see that when the grooms unlocked and opened the front of the box, it held the leather-bound form of another twenty-something girl like herself, stuffed between the foam surfaces of the trunk, secured by a dozen heavy straps and metal clamps. The girl’s small head was sealed in a black, padded hood with three plastic tubes sticking awkwardly out at odd angles as they were disconnected from the air vents and the water bottle. The girl tumbled out as the bonds were released, but there was very little movement in the obviously exhausted form. Dori watched curiously to see what they were going to do to this poor little thing that looked as if she’d been in the trunk for days.
Lucy had, in fact, only been in the box since Ms. Prudence’s crew repackaged her in New York the day before, but she was still, in many respects, suffering from extreme jet lag bondage and had really not been her normal smart-assed self since the gang started on her in Rosenheim, Germany, many days before. The ride to the airport from the warehouse in Amsterdam, her third chapter in the long journey tale, had been relatively easy. At the warehouse, they bathed her and shaved the key parts of her body, hydrated and fed her and allowed her to sleep for three uneventful nights in a decent bed, with her hands and feet in soft hospital restraints. The trans-Atlantic flight had been terrible. Bound in a large body crate, she suffered for hours as the plane was buffeted by strong air turbulence in dealing with a bad headwind. Arriving late at New York’s JFK International Airport, the crate and Lucy was further delayed at customs. Finally released to a bonded customs broker retained by Ms. Prudence, the crate and Lucy made another long overland journey to a small town in upstate New York where she was again released, serviced and then accidentally repackaged. As the object of Ms. Prudence’s outraged discovery of her being mislabeled, Lucy went through additional P processing, had more holes pierced in her body and endured more days of bound discomfort. Finally shipped to the school in yet another body crate, she was again in a semi-conscious state as the grooms unbound her limp form. They carefully removed the hated helmet and Dori saw the deep impressions in the girl’s pallid face, made by the sealed leather cocoon that had held her small head for so many long hours. They removed the tape from her eyes and mouth and the sopping gag from her mouth, evoking only a mild groan from the stretched white lips. Warm tea was offered and almost poured into the sagging mouth and another groan, a terrible, pained sound, came from little Lucy as the tea went down her parched throat. The grooms removed all bonds and carried the limp girl into the stall where Dori could not see, although she could hear the chains they attached to the girl’s limbs. They didn’t put a gag or bit into the hurt mouth, but they closed and locked all parts of the stall door and moved off to other parts of the barn while the girl passed into a tormented sleep. Dori tried to stretch and move in her own confinement. Who was the new girl next door and where had she come from, Dori wondered?
Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition Page 10
