Having It All

by Jurgen von Stuka

  “There,” he said after a moment, as he noted the slowing of Elle’s breathing and the easing of her efforts to acquire more air. “We’re here to help, honey. Next time you’re in the mood for more attention, give me a buzz. You and I might really hit it off.”

  Chapter Ten

  Applicant

  As a favor to the girl’s parents, F&E had agreed to meet informally with Lynda, the nineteen-year old college sophomore who was home a few weeks before the start of spring break. The five of them met in a noisy Italian restaurant in midtown early one evening and it was soon evident to all that it was going to be a successful gathering. Lynda had taken the lead in the conversation early, pointing out that both parents were willing to support any decisions she made and that they all agreed that F&E Enterprises was the place to bring their erotic interests.

  “I’m sure that you can help me out,” said the pretty young woman with the girl next door looks. She was carefully dressed in a well fitted, black knit jersey dress, moderate heels, dark hose and almost no jewelry. Striking in her apparent innocence, Lynda had poise and grace. Both Frank and Ellen noticed the marks on her wrists and when she had been standing at the bar before dinner, both noted similar bands around her ankles. She wore a wide black velvet band around her neck, possibly to hide similar marks, they wondered?

  “Obviously,” said Frank, nodding towards her marked left wrist, “You are not a neophyte to this scene.”

  “Oh, no,” said Lynda, blushing ever so slightly. “I have been into self bondage for awhile. But I wanted to expand my horizons beyond that.”

  “Exactly what do you have in mind, Lynda,” Ellen asked quietly. They had already covered the scope of F&E’s areas of erotic interests and established that Lynda was old enough to participate if she wanted to. Both parents, who said that they personally were not inclined toward such pursuits, said that they were nevertheless understanding of their daughter’s interests and wanted to support her, making certain that anyone she got involved with was absolutely honest, reliable and caring.

  “I want the whole thing, but I want to experience it without fear or harm,” Lynda said smiling first at Frank and then at the other three at the table.

  “That’s a bit of a contradiction,” Ellen said. “Part of the psychology of BDSM is the fear factor. Not knowing what is happening or who is doing it is often responsible for the greatest highs.”

  “Oh, I know that and I don’t want to change that part. It’s just that I don’t want any permanent damage, physically or mentally, for this. My plan is to grow old enjoying bondage safely,” Lynda added. “And…” she hesitated a moment, looking at her parents who were studying the entire exchange with some notable trepidation, “…there are some parts of this that I just do not want to participate in.”

  “Such as?” Frank asked.

  “Well, first, let me say that I am not interested in some of the stuff I’ve read about or heard or seen on the internet. Branding, burning and cutting are definitely out. I realize that some things appeal to some people and that’s fine, but not for me and I want to be able to differentiate between my interests and those of others, which I nevertheless respect.”

  “Oh good,” laughed Ellen. “I’ll bet that’s a relief to your folks here.”

  “No,” said the girl, no longer smiling. “I mean it. Some stuff, like scat, showers and so on just aren’t for me; nothing harmful, nothing deforming.”

  “Consider though,” Ellen said, “that as you mature you may find appealing some things that are of little or no interest to you now. For the sake of this discussion,” she continued, “how do you view infibulations?”

  “What?” interrupted Lynda’s mother, looking alarmed.

  “Oh, sorry. I mean piercing or surgical modifications of the genitals. Not much different than your pierced ears, Mrs. Raymond,” said Ellen quickly, realizing that she might have inadvertently opened Pandora’s box.

  “Oh. I see,” the Mother said, smiling a bit. “I know what you mean. I just don’t know the term. In fact,” she looked at her husband and then at her daughter, “I might offer here that I have had more than my ears pierced. It was a few years ago, but I decided it might be interesting. Hurt like hell, but the little gems are still there.”

  “Mom!” Lynda burst out. “You never told me.”

  “Well, you never told me that that boy from school was tying you up in the basement and did God knows what else to you, while we were away last winter, did you?”

  “Ah, no. I guess I didn’t…for a while. But that’s why we’re all here now,” Lynda offered.

  “Right,” said Frank, trying to sooth the simmering waters of family debate.

  “Anyway, I’m not really sure about any kind of piercing,” said Lynda quickly. “The idea appeals to me in the sense that I think I’d like to have rings and stuff on, well, in, some erotic areas on my body, but I don’t think I want the pain of having them done. So it’s a dilemma.”

  “You have a lot of company there,” added her mother, grimacing and then taking a long sip of her margarita. “Knock me out and wake me up after they heal and I’m ok, but I don’t like the surgery.”

  “Well, we can pass that up for now,” said Ellen. “But how did you get to this point? What have been your past experiences with …” she glanced around the crowded dining room, “…BDSM?”

  “I honestly think that I was born wanting to be tied up,” Lynda said at once. “My parents used to find me in my bed with the ends of the sheets tied to my wrists and feet, sleeping soundly. I fantasized about some scene I saw on TV or in a movie and carried it out in bed. Later, I graduated to rope and other materials, but I was inclined to tie myself and then go to sleep that way, so they would find me in bed, bound and gagged and blindfolded and they would not have a clue as to how this happened.”

  “Scared the hell out of us,” her father added.

  “But in time, after I explained it to them, they got used to it and were there just in case I needed help. I am very, very lucky to have them as parents and we have always shared everything. So getting past the secret part of this was pretty simple, at least in hindsight.”

  “Pretty damned understanding parents, in these times especially,” Ellen said.

  “Yes, they were and they are,” said Lynda, “which is why they wanted us to talk. I want the experience and not with some nut I pick up in a college town bar or at some frat party. I am, at least, I think, AC/DC and most of my real time experience has been with women I roomed with and trusted. My current roommate is a gem, but she found a guy she really likes and at the moment they are not into anything other than pure, crazy normal sex without the anything more exotic than handcuffs on the headboard.” Everyone at the table smiled knowing smiles.

  “I think….and I told her, that this will change and that she needs to clue him in about her proclivities, but that’s her business. It also leaves me thinking about taking a semester or two off and exploring with you guys. I am willing to work with or for you, doing chores or whatever you want, to help out.”

  “Everyone at the camp works,” said Ellen. “You really give up your life options while you are with us. We may, for example, sell or lease you to other parties.”

  Lynda’s mother again looked horrified and swallowed the entire remains of her drink, signaling the waiter for another.

  Ellen continued. “What we do is recreational in most respects with consenting adults at play. Some of it, no, most of it, is fun. But don’t forget that it’s a business. Some of it is at times distasteful but that goes with the territory. You might, for example, find yourself cleaning out the latrines, toilets, in nothing but a leather thong with a plug up your ass, a gag locked in your mouth and chains on your feet and wrists. Fail to meet the performance standard and you’ll be flogged, perhaps in private or even with an audience. How does that strike you…no pun intended?”

  “Oh. Yes. That’s a part of it for sure,” said the girl, shifting in her chair and lickin
g her lips unconsciously while her mother tried to hide a shudder of horror at the thought of her daughter kneeling in chains with the other mentioned devices inside her. “Do you do deep fantasy stuff too?”

  “Like what?” Frank asked. “I’m always interested in hearing new fantasies. The old standbys are a bit worn out. Not that we don’t indulge in them, but new topics are always welcome.”

  “Oh, mine are pretty much old school I guess, the forced slave maid, the captive in the desert tent, the hostage taken by the robbers, the prisoner of corrupt nuns and priests, and the hostage of the insurgents or pirates. Vanilla, comic book stuff like that.” Lynda closed her eyes a moment and then continued, “I also have a fascination for sexy clothing. I started buying erotic underwear and wearing it to work years ago. I know I’m not alone in that, but the idea of bondage combined with sexy lingerie has always been appealing.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Ellen. “It’s really part of mainstream culture in the Western World, I think. You can walk the streets in almost any major city in Europe and North America and see some pretty exciting lingerie on display. It’s almost as though everyone acknowledges it, but doesn’t want to say that they like it.”

  “Well, anyway, that’s my fantasy set, more or less,” said Lynda.

  “Pretty vanilla, but fine for openers,” said Frank. “Tell me something. And I hope I don’t embarrass anyone here, but how do you feel about your body? Are you happy with it?”

  “Yeah. Yes, I think so. There’s enough to play with, I think. Everything works okay. I’d like longer, better orgasms, but that, from what I’ve studied, may come if I get into this with you and your friends.”

  “Okay,” said Ellen, picking up the topic. “But suppose you end up being owned by someone who wants you to have a smaller waist, or bigger breasts. Would you go along with it? More important, would you agree to it even before it ever came up?”

  “Gee, I hadn’t thought about that, but I think that as long as I wasn’t damaged.” She looked down at her chest for just a second and then continued. “I’d go with it….you know what I mean. I don’t want to come home from your place with a pair of massive tits,” She looked around the room quickly as she realized she was talking perhaps too loud, “Like a G cup or something that would make me a freak. But otherwise, I’d sign off on it.”

  “No later regrets?” asked her mother with concern.

  “Well, Mom,” Lynda said, smiling again at her mother. “Did you have any?”

  “Regrets about having my boobs enhanced?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. Never. But the maintenance is a bit tiresome at this age.”

  “Well, that’s the way I feel too. If bigger tits are a part of the scenario, then I’m in, for better or worse.”

  “I’m not saying it would ever be a factor,” said Ellen, “just asking to get a feeling for your mindset on this. One other question, two actually, and then let’s go ahead and eat, I’m starving. Would you want to be on the other side of S&M? I mean, are you strictly into being dominated or can you change roles and dominate someone else?”

  “I haven’t really had the chance to do that,” Lynda said slowly, thinking about it as she talked. “I suppose that self bondage is, to some degree, a form of role switching. After all, if you want to tie yourself up and then abuse yourself, isn’t that sort of duality of roles, getting the most out of both?”

  “That’s a fascinating analysis,” said Frank enthusiastically. “I don’t think it ever occurred to me, but it certainly makes sense and I’d say it was pretty clever. I like it.”

  “Thanks,” Lynda said, smiling and taking a sip of her wine. “What’s your other question, Ellen?’

  “What’s your biggest fantasy? The one you would like to have carried out if you had only one wish?” Ellen said quickly.

  “Oh boy. That changes as I get older. At one time it was pretty simple and I think it came from comics, TV shows and movies. I just wanted to be tied up and held against my will by someone. Eventually, by the time I started my periods, I realized that sex was a big part of this too. But the original stimuli were stories like the girl detective. Nancy Drew, being taken hostage by the bad guys, I guess. The idea of being held against my will, bound and gagged and, as in the comics, nothing more, was pretty stimulating.” She took another sip of wine and looked thoughtful for a moment, “Maybe the old Wonder Woman thing, being bound with my own golden rope. That had a lot of shadow agenda to it, I think. I once saw an old TV movie about Joan of Arc and there were scenes of her chained in a dungeon cell and I wanted that for a long time.”

  “Shadow agenda?” Ellen asked.

  “Something other than what might appear to be the program,” Lynda said. “I think I may have coined the term, but I have used it in other discussions.”

  “Well, the fantasies you mention are pretty good, basic stuff. These are the things that seem to get millions of people started on this road. Again, pretty normal, though,” said Frank. “But if you could pick one thing now, what would it be?”

  “Totally immobilized, really strictly bound in a cage or cell. Not being able to object or speak or hear or see. Kept there and tormented sexually by someone evil. Maybe whipped while chained to a post and then put back in the cage. Pretty gruesome, I guess.”

  “Nope,” said Frank grinning. “Sounds like you’re our girl. Let’s eat.”

  Three weeks later, at the start of spring break, Lynda visited Ellen at her apartment. She brought a package of signed and notarized documents, including medical information, which released F&E from any liability concerning the girl’s time spent with them. Also in the packet was a detailed list and outline of her health issues, personal needs and other information that essentially made her their adult guest for not less than six months, extendable at mutual request. She brought a small duffel bag with some personal items in it and arrived promptly on schedule at midday. Per instructions, she had purged her GI tract with OTC laxatives and enemas the night before and had eaten nothing since then. Ellen told her that this was her one last chance to back out and if she didn’t, what would follow would be not necessarily what Lynda was expecting, but it would be in the spirit and direction of what they had agreed to.

  “You are ours now and we will do as we see fit with you,” Ellen told the girl. “If you like the idea of being a bondage slave, then perhaps you will enjoy every minute of your experience, but it is more likely that you will have reservations about what is happening to you and then it will be too late. So…do you agree to carry on from here?”

  “Yes, I do,” said Lynda, carefully.

  “Okay. You have done enough self bondage to be able to follow these directions: go into the next room and follow the script that is displayed on the computer screen. I will be watching and listening to you from here and you will get more instructions as you progress. There is no turning back. Go.”

  Lynda picked up her duffel bag and went into the next room. She turned around and saw the large flat screen display on the wall. It said:

  Close the door and strip. Do NOT speak.

  Face the screen while you do this. When you have taken off all clothing, shower in the adjoining bath and remove all body hair except what is on your head.

  Wash and make sure no residue remains.

  Wash, dry and put your hair into a single braid from the top of your head.

  Dry your body and then return here in front of the scene.

  WE WILL BE WATCHING.

  IF YOU FAIL TO FOLLOW ORDERS, YOU WILL BE PUNISHED.

  Lynda quickly removed all of her clothes and put them in a neat pile on a chair, then stepped into the shower and did as ordered, using a strong depilatory and a razor to make certain that no hair remained anywhere but on her head. She washed and dried herself and her hair, then put her hair into a single braid. Then she stood naked in front of the screen and waited.

  Presently, the screen changed.

  Go to the cabinet and remove what you
find in the top drawer.

  She did this, taking out a tan leather suit with feet and gloves built into it, plus a heavy bag of chains and cuffs, which she placed on the floor.

  Now place all of these items on the floor next to the suit and sit down.

  Begin by locking your ankles with the joined wide cuffs.

  Close them and they will lock.

  Place the metal bands marked “K” around your legs below the knee. Lock them. Put your feet into the bottom of the suit and zip it up to the band around your legs

  Shaking with anticipation and some anxiety, Lynda did as the display instructed. By now, her feet and lower legs were smoothly encased in the leather suit’s lower section and tightly held together by the metal cuffs and band.

  Place the band/clamp marked K2 above your knees and lock it.

  Try not to pinch your skin because there are no keys here for these restraints.

  Place the band/clamp with the short chain marked “T” around your thighs. Put it as high up on your legs as you can, just below your sex. Lock it.

  Pull the suit up to your top band and zip it shut.

  Take the chain with the tag marked “C” and wrap it twice around your waist. Make it tight.

  Secure it with the padlock.

  Take the remaining end of the chain and pass it through your legs and pull it up behind. Make it tight.

  You should be able to feel the chain in your sex and splitting your ass cheeks. IF YOU DO NOT MAKE IT TIGHT, YOU WILL BE PUNISHED.

  Pull the end up to the chain round your waist and lock it with the padlock. If it is not tight, use the key provided and unlock the padlock and tighten the chain, then lock it again.

  Lynda was now sweating as she worked the narrow chain through her triangle at the top of her banded legs and pulled the end through, fitting it carefully between her lower lips and feeling the chain as it passed her anus and rose up through her ass crack. She pulled it and put the lock in, securing it to the waist chain. It was very tight. She gasped when she brought her hands back in front and the chains seemed to tighten more. The display flashed: