Executive Enslavement

by Bruce McLachlan

  The only legitimate items of furniture in the chamber were a dressing table with a stool before it, and a wardrobe with a lock.

  Samantha was taken over toward the engines of captivity and spied the clothing that had been laid out for her on the bed. Whether the enigmatic Mistress she was to visit had requested them or whether it was her owner’s personal selections, she had no clue. Lady Morgana removed her cuffs and nodded toward the scant clothes.

  “Put them on, slave,” ordered Lady Morgana.

  Samantha donned the items that had been assigned her. It was a simple matter, but the fact that she could not even choose attire for herself was another sweet chapter of her lewd enslavement.

  There was a simple bra and panty set, some seamed tights and a plain mini skirt. After donning these, she laced her feet into a pair of stiletto-heeled ankle boots then stood up to accept the final parts of her attire.

  Her hands were brought behind her back and a set of matt black handcuffs captured her wrists behind her. Another set with a short chain between them was placed above her elbows. The second set of cuffs drew her arms together a little more and forced her chest out to a greater extent.

  The final portion of her preparation was a featureless inflatable rubber hood. The dense bag was opened at a back zip and was quickly pulled down over her head. The small interior nozzle that would be her only access to the outside world was steered into her mouth and the whole item was straightened until it was properly in place. The incorporated collar was buckled shut, the zip was drawn down, and the exterior line of lacing was tightened. An inflator bulb was screwed onto the nozzle by her cheek and brisk pumps made the hood swell.

  Samantha stretched a little against her restraints as she felt the implacable fist of latex growing onto her head and compressing it within an impermeable grasp. The scent of the material washed through her nose and coaxed out a serene delight in such deprivation.

  The pressure continued to mount until her whole head and face was smothered within a firm cinch of tight swollen rubber. The bulb was removed and a dust cap screwed on to ward against deflation.

  Breathing steadily through the stubby tube, she was brought to her feet and guided away from the room. Samantha was drawn through several doors and finally her heels clicked on bare tiled floor rather than carpet. Blind and bound she was pulled down onto her knees and she listened to her escort depart without a word.

  Lost in the rubber helmet and left to the uncertain evening with Mistress Carol, Samantha tried to stay calm and focused as she waited. She tried to predict what was going to be done to her. Would Mistress Carol tie her up, and if so in what pose, with what materials? Would she spank her, crop her, whip her, or cane her? What did the woman look like? Was she fat, thin, muscular, old, or young? A million possibilities rushed through her mind but without even the benefit of sight, she might never know.

  The anonymous dominatrix marched into the room with aggressive purpose and stopped abruptly in front of Samantha. Remaining on her knees, Samantha listened as the woman prowled around her form. As she was assessed, the rapier heels tapped out a precise staccato tune.

  “Up,” she barked, and a weapon flicked out and stung Samantha’s flank.

  The stripe of havoc made her yelp and she quickly struggled upward. The concentrated mark of chastisement felt very much like a cane, and Samantha knew then that Mistress Carol was going to be extremely stern.

  Vinyl gloved hands grabbed her and turned her around. The chime of keys sounded and the cuffs were promptly removed. With a degrading shove, Samantha was pushed aside and to the nearby table. She connected with the side with a gentle bump that folded her at her middle. Her hands dropped to the padded leather surface and she found that the edges of it were lined with numerous dense eyelets.

  “Well! Get up onto it!” snarled the woman and Samantha screamed against the imprisoning hood when the cane crossed both of her buttocks on a most energetic swing. She was starting to detect a hint of an accent to the woman’s voice. It was the hint of an oriental heritage, perhaps Japanese. Samantha had known numerous ethnicities in her previous profession and had developed an ear for the subtleties in their accents. The western name she went by was nothing to indicate otherwise. It was common to ditch a given Asian name and choose something less out of the ordinary. It befuddled her sometimes because fellow professionals would forsake an exotic and beautiful name and choose some of the most banal and commonplace western replacements.

  Samantha kicked up with her legs and rolled onto the table top. She dearly wanted to curl into a protective ball. Her lack of sensory input and the ferocity of Mistress Carol made her want to shelter herself from the woman’s obviously freely distributed animus. Nevertheless, Samantha steeled herself against her fright, lay out on her back, and spread her limbs across the cool hide.

  She hoped that the woman wanted her face up because otherwise her rear would be suspiciously open to the ravages of the wiry bamboo nemesis. She could barely sustain the kiss of the cane at the best of times and Mistress Carol was sure to apply a prolonged and most vicious session of strokes. The possibility made Samantha go cold with dread as she reluctantly entertained the thought of it.

  “Firstly, let’s get you tied down so I can really get to work on you,” snarled the woman.

  Samantha’s insides were curdling from fright and apprehension. The woman spoke with such venom and clear animosity that Samantha was seriously concerned about what would happen to her here. When Lady Morgana orchestrated her actions, she knew that they would at least be tempered by her affection for Samantha. Mistress Carol seemed dangerously ferocious and contemptuous of slaves. She was a true merciless harridan that would make her suffer terribly so she might savour her wails and the resulting begs for mercy. Samantha wondered if maybe she should exaggerate her distress to sate the woman. However, such a ploy might be spotted, and so she would end up drastically increasing her own tribulations from the attempt at deception.

  Samantha was in unknown territory now, with a person she had no experience with, in a situation that was a complete mystery. It was extremely unnerving, and yet, that very mystery made it deliciously exciting.

  The woman began applying her restraints with supercilious roughness. Each of Samantha’s hands was forced into a padded leather bag with a stern restraint at the wrist that captured her extremities. The mitts were then clipped to the side of the table and the woman turned her attention to Samantha’s feet. A coil of rope was used to swiftly form a basic harness over each heeled boot. The two were then hoisted roughly into the air. Two rings were spaced well apart in the ceiling and once they caught the ropes, they dragged her legs into a lewd split. The process forced her skirt up around her waist to offer access and to permit her legs to widen still further.

  Samantha gave a soft moan of discomfort as the ropes squeezed her feet. The woman was deliberately applying distressing bondage and refusing any consideration for comfort. Normally a set of restraints would ease the pose, but the ropes bit into her feet even through the boots. The racking effects also made her legs ache.

  A set of four ratcheted tie downs were drawn across her body and slipped beneath her arms. With a flurry of cranking motions, they were tightened down onto her. One of them crossed her hips, another sank into her stomach, and the other two ran above and below her breasts to drag her torso deep into the padded surface of the table. The woman stole away the slack of each band and continued pumping the handles of the devices until the power of the woven straps was virtually crushing her.

  Samantha stiffened and released a long purl of distress as hands reached out and pinched her nipples. The strong holds rolled the teats and pulled mercilessly at them. Samantha whimpered and struggled, fighting her tenacious restraints. Mistress Carol was obviously testing to make sure that everything was steadfast and that Samantha had no way to evade the imminent sadistic storm.

  “I wonder what you look like?” she asked. “But first I want
to see what you can take!”

  The dust cap was removed and a pump was quickly screwed on in its stead. The woman then began to slowly continue the inflation as her other hand groped Samantha’s torso.

  Samantha wriggled in her restraints as the previously snug compression began to escalate to less friendly levels. The pressure into her cheeks fought to spread her jaws against the weight being levied from every direction. The aching pound of the squeeze grew to more intense degrees as Mistress Carol sustained her relentless swelling of the bondage balloon.

  Samantha strained to endure the abuse and relish her utter abandonment to the will of this new dominatrix. Lady Morgana had handed her to this Mistress as a toy to play with. She really was a slave to the woman and had to do whatever it was that would please her. Right now, Lady Morgana wanted her to please Mistress Carol, and if that meant she had to suffer to accomplish it, then she had to embrace that fact and fixate on success.

  Offering moans and soft grunts of genuine discomfort she felt the helmet swell to its full power. The pump was left in place and the enigmatic Mistress moved away.

  “Let’s see how you like that for awhile,” she said.

  Deprived of sight, Samantha strained with her ears to try to discern what was going on around her. The sounds were greatly muffled but when she steadied her breathing, she could sometimes hear clues and hints of what was occurring.

  Meek tinkling chimes reached through the layers of rubber and a moment later, the cups of her bra were being pulled down. Samantha gave a brief throe of response against the awesome power of the straps when the jaws of clamps grabbed her nipples.

  “Those must feel great,” commented the woman with amusement in her voice. “How about now?”

  The chain that linked the clamps was taken up and drawn into the air. The clamps pulled at her captive nipples and hauled them upward into malign stalagmites. Samantha whimpered and shuddered from the effects as the abusive dominatrix mistreated her breasts. The woman drew on them with more severity and as Samantha’s murmurs of protest started to emerge, a finger dropped over the small fixture that held her breathing tube. Mistress Carol stopped up her breath for a moment then let go. The woman permitted Samantha time to recover a little before repeating the teasing denial. After a couple of sessions of mock suffocation, the chain was released and Samantha felt the cold steel links fall into her cleavage.

  “Mmmm, not bad. But how do you sound with some real stress?”

  There was a brief warning of the stroke in the form of a delicate whistle as the cane swung through the air. With a sound thwack, it caught the back of her exposed thighs, and a moment later a detonation of misery flashed through the tender and helpless flesh. Samantha jerked and hollered against the hood. Her tights had done nothing to absorb the brutal impetus of the cane. A moment later, another withering swat assailed the same area, and then another. The fierce storm of harrowing had Samantha crying out and fighting to break free of the bonds. She could not beg or even speak. The woman’s attack was keeping her lost within a tempest of anguish that demanded nothing from her save screams.

  Mistress Carol delivered a brutal barrage of six more hacks. The cane wrung the most intense physical sorrow from Samantha’s thighs and she squealed in distress with each impact.

  It took a moment for Samantha to realise that the woman had stopped. The lingering pain in Samantha’s burning weals had such a potency that it took her long minutes to settle down and get a hint of control over her breathing and body. Spasms and sobbing fits ruled her as the throbbing strokes slowly eased their crippling vigour.

  Samantha’s pain was rekindled when the chain was taken up and used to plague her nipples again. Samantha whimpered within the hood.

  “That’s it. I’ve had enough of your whining.”

  The chain was dropped and the woman pushed Samantha’s head aside so that she could access the laces. The strings were released and the zip pulled down. The inflated hood was pulled from her face, and the sweat from her trials allowed it to slither from her features. Samantha kept her eyes screwed shut as painful light poured through her eyelids.

  While she was still getting used to the meagre light of the room, she felt the woman grabbing her lips and snapping a peg to them. Another three were used to seal her mouth and fill her lips with pounding mayhem. Samantha wanted to throw her head around and try to resist the applications, but was worried that such defiance would only make the woman more insanely villainous.

  “Now that looks a little better,” she commented.

  Brushing the back of her hand across the pegs, she made Samantha’s lips ache even more acutely.

  Samantha managed to open her eyes into a squint and she started to see the room in which she was held. First, she looked at her spread and suspended legs and the thin rope that captured them and reached up to rings in the ceiling. Then she took in the rest of the chamber.

  The room had a distinct surgical quality to it. The walls and floor were tiled with white. There were matching cabinets with glass fronts that adorned every surface. There was an examination chair with restraint filled arms and stirrups. Large steel lamps on extended adjustable arms stretched out over it, and on the wall beside it were some posters of anatomy. Long neon strip lights filled the room with an anaemic bleaching glow that seemed to lower the temperature even further.

  In addition to these items of medical purpose, there was the paraphernalia to serve the room’s real needs. In some cabinets, she spied lines of crops, canes, paddles, and whips, in others she could see clamps, pinwheels and other more esoteric devices. An enema bag hung on a steel frame and a wheeled steel trolley could be seen down past her suspended legs. The contents were hidden from her view and because of the tie downs, she could not sit up to steal one.

  Mistress Carol was of clear Asian descent. She was of average height with strong curves that were covered in the shimmering skin of a Lycra cat-suit. Over this black layer of stretched material, she had laid a set of tight PVC shorts and a matching vinyl bra. She wore knee-high patent boots that were laced down the front and they perched her on savage heels. A set of wrist length PVC gloves covered her hands and a studded choker encircled her throat.

  The woman had long sable black hair that she had woven back into a fierce plait and fastened with black ribbon. Her subtle makeup and dark lips helped emphasise the feline quality that her feral and angular features presented.

  In one clenched fist, she held the wiry bamboo cane that had so mercilessly traumatised Samantha. Hanging from the hooked handle of the weapon was a velvet bag filled with an arsenal of more pegs.

  Mistress Carol placed both bag and cane on the leather padding beside Samantha’s flank. Opening the bag, she began to draw out the wooden pegs and swiftly snap them to parts of Samantha’s defenceless physique. Mistress Carol worked with capricious inspiration, applying the pegs on whims and with no clear overall design.

  Initially the pegs flocked about her torso where they snatched pinches of her belly, breasts, shoulders, and upper arms. The worst of these were the ones that took hold of her hips and near her armpits. The flesh there was surprisingly sensitive to such mistreatment.

  Mistress Carol’s eyes glinted with malice and glee as she continued to cover Samantha with the implements. Each whimper and subtle twitch visibly added to her enjoyment.

  Then the woman moved up and added a few pegs to Samantha’s aghast features. A peg snatched each cheek and a few were applied to her ears. Each one made her shudder and burble muted pleas against the pegs responsible for gagging her. Her eyebrows were captured and a final pair was left dangling from her earlobes.

  “Much better,” said the dominatrix with a broad and satisfied grin at witnessing Samantha’s pinched and warped visage. A couple of tears welled in the corners of Samantha’s eyes and trickled down her face.

  “Ah, that’s what I wanted to see,” said Mistress Carol.

  The woman was clearly ebullient at hav
ing successfully coaxed tears from her subject, and the sight of the woman’s joy helped soothe Samantha’s despair. Despite the woman’s savagery, it was exceedingly pleasing to have triumphed in the quest to fulfil her.

  Inspired by Samantha’s response, Mistress Carol strolled down between her elevated legs. Grabbing the tights, she wrenched apart the flimsy material and tore a vast hole in the garment. Pulling Samantha’s underwear into the crease of her rear she exposed more skin and began to snap even more of the mordant tools to her inner thighs.

  Samantha’s struggles began to grow more drastic. The pegs were establishing a rising level of pain that was starting to overwhelm her. Endorphins and adrenaline were pouring through her system, creating a strange intoxication that her submissive nature found most palatable. Samantha was unsure whether she was reviling or loving her torment. Her mind was confused and undirected. She just did not have enough experience with this sort of intense play to know what she was truly feeling.

  Pegs started snatching areas of her vulva and Mistress Carol began to line each lip. The pegs chattered against each other as Samantha’s cavorting hindquarters had them bounce and swing.

  Having exhausted the contents of the bag, Mistress Carol stepped back to Samantha’s side and looked across the shivering abused slave with a sense of completion and satisfaction. Roughly grabbing a peg, she turned and pulled at the device before opening its jaws. The abuse escalated the pounding misery in the pinch then when it was freed there was the customary small eruption of harsh sensation before respite.

  Samantha jolted against her bonds and fresh tears slipped from her eyes. Enthralled by such a display, Mistress Carol began to remove more pegs. She attacked each area with some deliberate tugs and twists, making sure she milked each pinch of flesh with as much distress as she could before granting searing reprieve. When Samantha mewled and danced under the eyes of Mistress Carol, the sadistic woman was even more inspired to continue.