Retaliation

by Jurgen von Stuka

  There were a few murmured sounds of agreement and nods.

  Cathy acknowledged the suggestion with a slight bow, dropped the cat and again went to the sideboard where she retrieved some lengths of chain and large cuffs. She went back to Holly, turned her around again and locked one large cuff tightly above each of the girl's knees, leaving the chains attached. She then connected two more lengths of chain to the girl's existing cuffs on the spreader bar. Cathy took all four chains and stepped back until she came to a large ring mounted in a recessed fixture in the parquet floor. She pulled the chains tight, forcing Holly to lock her knees and slide her bound and spread feet backwards. A groan escaped from behind her gag as she strained to bring her widely spread feet further back, tugging against the manacles holding her hands high up on the post.

  Cathy took up the slack in the chains and then secured them to the floor ring with a single large padlock. She studied the arrangement, went to Holly and pushed hard against the pinioned girl's stomach, forcing her hips back a few inches more and adding slack to the knee and ankle chains. Then Cathy unlocked the chains and retightened them again. Cathy retrieved a set of weighted nipple clips from the counter top and snapped them onto the bleeding nips.

  Holly was no longer standing. She was actually hanging by her wrists and her backward stretched legs. The position was obviously straining and painful and tears came from her carefully made-up eyes, running down her face and dropping slowly on her fully stretched, bleeding breasts. From behind the gag, the sounds of sobbing emerged.

  “Enough, Cathy,” said Melinda. “You may leave. This slave needs further correction and we will deal with her.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Cathy said, picking up the cats and putting them away. Holly remained in the strained pose while the audience seemed to be debating her next punishment. It was going to be a rough night for Holly.

  While the guests hovered and chatted, a duo of black-clad women quietly entered, took Holly down from her suspension and attached her to one wall, using a series of wide straps that embraced her wrists, arms below the elbow, neck, forehead, chest above and below her breasts, waist, thighs above and below her knees and ankles, rendering Holly immobile, pinned to the wall. They added a metal chastity belt and crotch panel, a heavy leather hood over her gag, replaced the neck and forehead straps and then attached nearly invisible hoses to the front of the gag hood and to the stainless steel crotch plate. The duo left the room as silently as they had arrived.

  “Before we go to dinner,” Melinda called to her guests as She stood in front of the hooded and pinned Holly, “I wanted you to know that Holly here will not be joining us in the dining salon, but is already being fed by these hoses into her plugged mouth, cunt, bladder and lower intestine. By the time we’ve finished coffee and dessert, I think she’ll be almost ready to pop, being quite full of some special beverages I formulated. This, by the way, is how she is daily nourished and also punished. For, as you all know, there is always something a slave must be punished for. Right now, via she rather gigantic, vented butt plug, she’s getting an ass full of a somewhat irritating solution of ordinary household chemicals to clean out her lower tracts while a slightly different combination of laxatives and diuretics is being pumped into her mouth. Her bladder is getting topped off with a third liquid which doesn’t quite enjoy sharing that organ with the stuff coming down the pipe from her mouth, so perhaps you can appreciate the internal conflicts that will shortly take place while she’s helplessly fastened to this wall. Her marvelous cunt has an additional, non-toxic but vile-tasting cleaning chemical being flushed in and out every ten minutes. What comes out is rerouted to her mouth…recycling at its best, for sure,” Melinda quipped.

  “While we dine, Cathy will come back and remove the discipline helmet so that the video will capture her facial expressions as the chemicals work their wonders deep inside her body. I can assure you that this process is highly effective and I would recommend it to anyone who has a problem husband, boy or girl friend and offspring that is recalcitrant. Let us go to dinner now.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Love Bites

  That evening was entertaining and enlightening for the social group. They learned a great deal about slave training. Holly, despite her injuries and earlier bloating, demonstrated at some length, her skill at providing seemingly endless sexual favors to any and all members of the group. They also got to meet some of Melinda's other full time guests who lived in the now expanded cellars under the house.

  “One of Holly’s educated assets is her highly efficient tongue,” Melinda told the group after dinner. “It was passable before she began training, but several months of tongue exercises, punctuated with spending hours in total restraint with her tongue ring attached to a weight or a pulling device actually lengthened and improved her tongue reach. We tied this therapy in with some lip work that happily yielded a most useful and muscular mouth. The tongue/lip combination is especially useful in protracted cunnilingus and can be employed for extreme engagements.”

  They met the former Dorothy Moss, now a living example of what can happen if you fool around with a plastic surgeon's spouse. Although Hank was totally unaware that his girlfriend had once been a man, Dotty, who was not bad looking when Melinda first “adjusted” her appearance, had once been Donald Lee Lipsome, a car salesman in a nearby town. Unhappy with his career, Donny made a few thousand dollars every now and then when he found a cute young thing that was looking for a good used car but couldn’t qualify for the financing. Don was very adroit at convincing the women that he would take care of everything and he set about getting as much personal information as he could from the soon to be victim. In a matter of weeks, the buyer was drugged, boxed and shipped off to a new home many thousand miles away and Don was covering up her disappearance, using the personal information he had obtained from her. His system worked well, but he made the mistake of trying it on Felice, Melinda’s personal assistant.

  Easily baited by the promise of big money, Don fell into Melinda’s angry clutches and was soon experiencing the kind of unpleasant treatment as his former victims.

  Melinda used Don as a test pig for some new transgender techniques that were not available elsewhere because of the potential side effects. In six months, Don had become Dorothy, and, to Melinda’s credit, a pretty hot looking female, albeit still somewhat imperfect in terms of her face and newly installed cunt. Melinda continued to work on these developments, but allowed months to pass while Dorothy healed and suffered.

  In eighteen months, Dottie had become the Hollywood version of too much elective cosmetic surgery, much like a popular, drug addicted, pedophile singer had once been. Only Dottie still had her nose that looked normal and her ass that would have been the envy of any woman her age. What was really different about Dottie was that each of her breasts was now roughly the size of a two-liter jug. Melinda worked on these specimens slowly, using hormones and tissue transplants as well as a giant pair of saline solution-filled sacks to involuntarily “augment” Dottie's upper regions.

  “Hank, bless his stupid, tit-infatuated little head, had a thing for women with big boobs,” Melinda told Dorothy when, after several days of surgery and drug-induced sleep, she first awoke in one of the city house cellar's new white rooms. Dorothy was chained to the wall, eagle spread, without a stitch of her old clothes, her head tightly enclosed in one of Melinda's personally designed discipline hoods that filled mouth, nostrils and ear canals with stimulating special effects. For entertainment while she stood there alone in the cool, damp basement room, she was mounted on a large metal dildo that went well up inside her newly constructed vagina. The phallus was attached to a bracket bolted to a track on the wall behind her and adjusted to angle easily up and into Dorothy's pussy with its redesigned testicle tissue turned into pussy lips pulled well apart by surgical clips.

  Her originally flat male chest now supported H cup breasts that were individually captured by thick metal clamps that surrounded t
he breast roots and were pulled to the side, attached to steel pins set into the concrete walls. Because much or the new chest area was Don’s original somewhat flabby male version, the captured mass of new mammary tissue projected aggressively forward and to the sides, like a pumpkin that was nailed to the wall by its stem. These giant tits provided Melinda with useful targets for cat, cane and paddle, all of which were used arbitrarily without cause, other than to hear Dotty scream and see her struggle. Her ringed nipples were often weighted to change the turf of her tits a bit and a four pound workout barbell dangling from each nip seemed to keep Dorothy entertained when the whips were not in use.

  “Dottie dear,” Melinda often reminded her, as she demonstrated the use of a new riding crop on the inside of Dottie’s spread thighs, “don’t worry about my beating you down here. What used to dangle between your legs is now gone, used in the same region, but with new nerve endings and somewhat different sensitivity,” She said as She struck the space between Dottie’s remaining asshole and her new frontal slit. Dottie screamed.

  “Your tits,” Melinda said, switching crop targets to the massive upper body mounds, “Are just about the biggest I have ever seen. And as a creative endeavor, I must say they are swell. Swell, get it?” Melinda shouted as She applied the crop in a brutal downward stroke to the expansive top of each breast. “There won’t be a bra in the country that will fit and then we’ll have to do some research to see exactly what sort of harness would be appropriate. Maybe something in the dairy barn will prove useful. How would you like a cow’s life, Don... .oh, I mean Dottie?”

  Dorothy shivered and lunged against her chains as the crop worked tirelessly, alternately on the soft swollen skin just below her pussy and the vast acreage of her chest.

  “What we are thinking about, Honey,” Melinda added, “was getting you a companion down here to milk these monsters twice daily. How would you like that, She asked, slapping both breasts until they flopped slowly up and down.”

  Dottie wasn’t interested in having company, but she had no choice, of course. Her ankles were spread well apart by a stocks-like device that allowed her tormentors to brace the feet further apart or closer together by setting steel pins in a track between the cuffed ankles. Steel clamps held Dorothy's wrists and elbows to the wall and another, similar, locked steel strap clamped her neck as well.

  That was part of Dottie's daily experience under Melinda's' control. To Melinda, Don/Dottie was an interesting experimental project. Nothing more. True, when She thought about it, Melinda had to admit that there was a strong element of revenge always present when She did things like She did to Dottie. Hank’s fooling around wasn’t going to go away quickly, and each time She found another dumb-assed male who was taking advantage of women, Melinda saw it as Her duty to make sure they paid for it.

  Finished with Dottie for the morning, Melinda left the chamber, reminding the attendant that Dottie and Holly had an appointment that afternoon. Shortly thereafter, Dottie was bound to Hank in the manner previously described and sent off to the farm for further training and body modifications.

  “Dottie here,” Melinda told her guests as She prepared coffee for the group, “was kind enough to respond to a letter offering her a considerable cash portion of Hank's estate if she would simply follow a few instructions. She was dumb and greedy enough to buy the package and use the voucher that got her on a chartered jet supposedly headed for Mexico. But things went badly for Dorothy and the plane actually set down in the desert where some talented associates of my father removed her and brought her to me. She woke up in the cellar and has been so cooperative that I have kept her alive thus far, despite some pretty rigorous surgical activity on my part.”

  The assembled group, helping themselves to coffee and sweets, admired Melinda's work as Dottie hung from the ceiling by her wrists, mouth fully plugged and ankles chained closely together. Her huge tits jiggled when a light cane was applied to her ass and she whimpered softly as multiple hands and fingers probed her lower regions. A few guests, apparently seeking a quick thrill, inserted fingers and hands into Dottie’s lower apertures, explored the size and depth, the muscular adroitness and degree of liquidity.

  “My God, Melinda,” said one of the cunt-exploring guests excitedly. “She's got an automated cunt, I swear. It snapped at me.”

  “Ah yes. That she does,” replied Melinda. “Another experimental apparatus of mine. It uses state-of-the-art electronics and nano-devices. Really quite useful in certain situations.”

  “What on earth does it do,” another guest asked, gazing with renewed interest at Dottie's bald slit.

  “Well, in some ways it’s a modern chastity belt without all of the annoying and visible accoutrements. Once installed, the owner can set it for any of a wide variety of actions.”

  “Such as?” one younger local housewife asked.

  “Well, let's just say that you are worried about your high school-aged daughter having sex without your knowledge or permission.”

  “I don’t have a daughter,” the woman said abruptly.

  “I know, Leslie, I know, but let's pretend, okay?” said Melinda. “Suppose some local cretin takes a fancy to your fictitious daughter, Leslie, and does this,” She said, taking the woman's hand and sliding it gently between Dottie's twitching thighs, slowly inserting the woman's thumb into Dottie's warm and moist pussy.

  “Oh, my God,” screamed the woman, yanking her hand away suddenly as if she'd been bitten. “The thing has teeth.”

  Everyone laughed, but each guest looked sharply at the hanging woman's crotch and then at Melinda for some sort of explanation.

  “She's right,” Melinda said easily. “This model has a small, but potently strong set of stainless steel dentures set vertically in a sort of protected fleshy liner. Any unauthorized entry gets bitten, lightly at first but then with real force on the second try. This handy accessory quickly discourages little fuckers who do not have your daughter's welfare in mind. It will also cut down, I suspect, on self-initiated stimulation…masturbation if you would.”

  “My God,” said the woman whose hand had just been nipped by the steel-toothed cunt. “What a concept! Have you patented it yet?”

  “Of course, my dear, of course. But it’s not all that original. Popular mythology in many cultures has always included this sort of physical mutation as a way to drive away sexual abusers…among other things.

  “You mean ‘vagina dentate,’ Cloris Bannister offered.

  “That’s right Cloris,” Melinda said. “Various societies have nurtured and used the myth for centuries. The Catholic Church has, I believe, encouraged the myth and it has prevailed through the ages. In its simplest form, it’s an easy and frightening way to discourage kids from experimenting sexually and of course, it probably has some impact o potential rapists as well. Having your pecker bitten off just when you thought you’d grab some unwilling bit of ass is a strong deterrent, I suspect.”

  “Can anyone get one?” Bannister asked.

  “Yes, if they can afford it,” Melinda said. “It's very expensive and very popular in certain foreign locations where cost is not a consideration and sexual novelties are always sought. And of course, I must train each surgeon who wants to install it.”

  “Of course,” several women echoed, a few unconsciously feeling their own sex and wondering how it would feel to have this thing inside them. “Of course.”

  “Now, unless you are bored with this medical seminar, allow me to show and tell you a bit about its other uses,” Melinda continued as She bent and attached a wide leg spreader to Dottie's ankles after unlocking the close hobble cuffs. Dottie offered no resistance.

  “Here's a really thrilling thought for anyone who thinks the spouse is fucking around elsewhere. Husbands can have this device implanted in a wife, with or without her knowledge. Wives can have it implanted in the suspected fuckee, also without their knowledge.”

  “How, how can that be?” Belinda Gregory, one of Melinda's favorit
e buddies, burst out, seemingly on cue.

  “Belinda, do you know every detail, everything that is done when you go to the hospital or clinic for minor surgery? Even when they use just a local? When you had your ass reshaped, for example, did you watch the procedure?”

  “No, of course not. I even have gas when I have a tooth worked on. I hate knowing what they're doing.”

  “Exactly. So the Bimbo, (not you, Belinda), goes for her annual oil change and ends up with an 'autocunt' installed. Simple as that,” Melinda added happily. “Hubby, who has been diddling his secretary nightly, comes home and none the wiser, plugs in a few weeks later and gets his cock snipped off, permanently or perhaps lightly chewed, just as a warning. Imagine him trying to explain that.”

  “Good God. Freddy came home a month ago with terrible scars on his dick and told me he'd dropped hot coffee and had to have skin grafts.”

  “Interesting take, Honey,” Melinda said. “And you, of course, believed him?”

  “Well, yes. It looked terrible but I never would have thought he'd be caught it in a pussy trap.”

  “Exactly,” said Melinda. “And I won't tell you what this costs, but I make a great deal of money for each one that is installed around the world. If you want one, I can arrange for a very special discount and credit terms. Since you are all my dearest friends,” She added. “By the way, here’s an interesting article that appeared in a UK daily a few weeks ago.” Melinda handed out some neatly laminated copies of a news story to each of her guests. It read:

  LONDON LOTHARIO LOSES VITAL ORGAN

  Girlfriend Disappears – Sought By Scotland Yard

  London, July 6 – Well-known playboy and TV star Malcolm Falbridge remains in serious condition at Winchester General Hospital today after an unexplained incident while visiting a female companion at the Savoy Hotel earlier this week.