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A green door. The silent man led her to it. He held her gaze as he produced
the key that apparently fit the substantial lock. "This room isn't for 
everyone.
Do you understand that?" She nodded transfixed by his eyes and the firm grip on
her arm. He put the key in the lock, an obvoiusly familiar action for him. The
tumblers clicked, he paused with his hand on the knob.
   "Upon entering here you will be required to relinquish a part of yourself.
But in doing so you will gain much more in return. Do you understand?"
   She nodded, though she would have agreed with anything he said at that
moment. He produced a pair of shiny steel handcuffs, holding them to intersect
her gaze. He released her arm, "Turn around." She noticed her feet complying
with his command. Her pulse racing, slightly muffling the sound of the cuffs
ratchetting closed around her wrists. Now she understood! Yet her apprehension
was stifled by the intensity of her excitement, "This can't be happening!" she
thought. Her attempts to separate her wrists convinced her that it was indeed
happening.
   The man was adept. He had rotated her wrists so that her palms faced 
outward. Her fingers found only empty air, the cuffs prevented her from moving 
her hands to any useful position. His hand was on the nob again, his eyes on 
hers. "Do you still wish to enter?" She nodded. The door opened to reveal a 
dull amber light, a sourceless glow of a hundred candles. The carpet was thick 
and warm. The green door closed, and the world that she knew disappeared at 
the same moment.
   A single chair afforded the only furnishing for the room. He left her
standing near the door and seated himself facing her. "You will speak only
when asked to speak. You will follow all orders without hesitation." He pointed
to a spot two feet in front of the chair. "Come here and kneel."
   She complied quickly, not wanting to experience the result of disobedience,
at least not yet. He gazed down at her approvingly. From behing the chair he
produced a black leather strap about two inches wide. He grinned as he placed
it on her. The purpose of the strap revealed itself as he threaded it behind
her neck and under her arms, buckling it firmly against her upper back. Her
shoulders automatically moved sveral inches closer together. But he wasn't
through yet. A second strap attached to the first behind her neck. He watched
her face as he used the second thinner strap to hoist her wrists upward via
the short chain connecting the handcuffs. He stopped just short of pain,
judging expertly by the expression on her face. He sat back in the chair
now looking rather contented as he watched her attemp to adjust to her new
arrangement.
   "Your breasts look lovely that way." She stared back at him, feeling her
breath coming quicker. "I have a task for you my dear. A simple one, I don't
want to be unfair. Your task is to undo my pants for me." She looked at his
pants now for the first time. A comfortably worn pair of 501 jeans. "My god,
how am I going to undo a pair of button fly jean without my hands?" The
question burst to her mind. His grin faded, as she spoke, "I can't!" He leaned
forward, very close to her, "You can, and you will. And if you speak again
you'll be  punished." He sat back again waiting. She edged closer to him,
still kneeling. The only means freely left to her were her teeth. Carefully
she grasped the flap that extended beyond the first button hole. A slight tug
produced the desired effect. She was elated! She ventured a glance upward: He
sat still grinning like the damned Chesire cat. She renewed her grip and the
remainder of the buttons released easily.
   "You learn quickly. That's good. I don't deal well with studity. Now
complete your task." Returning her gaze to the project before her it became
apparent why the buttons released so easily. A full eight inch erection greeted
her, seperating the fly of it's own force and diameter. Inching still closer
she took his cock slowly into her mouth...  He took advantage of her thick head
of auburn hair by grabbing a substantial amount of it in a tight fist near the
back of her head. As the tip of his cock touched her soft palatte he leveraged
her head back so that he could look her in the eyes, "If I feel so much as one
of your teeth touch me... Well let's just say it won't be pleasant for you."
He smiled at the look of apprehension on her face and using his hold on her
hair guided her head downward. She fought valliantly to overcome the inevitable
gag reflex, but found herself using all her strength to pull her head back. She
didn't succeed until he let her, but he didn't let her back far enough to 
remove his still enlarging shaft from her mouth. He smiles down at her,"not too
experienced at this are you?"
   She tried to communicate with her eyes alone, being fearful of moving her
head and touching him with her teeth. Her jaw ached as he controlled the
movements of her head, sensing when he had forced her head down a bit too far.
After what seem a very long time she heard him making the exctatic sounds of
an orgasm. She had never felt hot cum explode into her throat before. She liked
it very much and swallowed all of it gladly. He released her head now and she
sat back thankfully on her heels feeling triumphant. In her excitement she 
spoke before thinking, "I do learn fast don't I?" His eyes opened slowly, and 
she was frightened at the cold glare that came from under is perfect brow.
   "Some things perhaps, but not others." He rose from the chair and retrieved
a thick leather strap from his seemingly endless supply behind the chair. He
stood behind her now looking down at her imploring face.
   "I'm sorry... please..."
   "Too late. Open your mouth." He had bent down now, grasping the slim strap
holding her cuffed wrists in one hand and a threatening looking contraption in
the other. The strap was nearly 5" thick at it's widest point and was fashioned
from very sturdy leather. A leather pear shaped protrusion attached at the
center was poised before her full lips. He was speaking again, "Open your
fucking mouth!"
   "That won't fit in my...." A sharp pain in both shoulders interrupted her.
He was pulling her wrists up toward her shoulder blades by means of that 
damned strap. She opened her mouth to both comply and release a sharp squeal 
of pain.
The leather pear did indeed fit in her mouth, but barely. She had no idea her
jaws could stretch that far. He carefully pulled up her long flowing hair to
buckle the gag snugly at the back of her neck. She could make absolutely no
sound. The pear forced her tongue to the bottom of her mouth, and the 5" strap
sealed her lips and trapped them against her teeth. "That should remind you not
to speak without permission. How are your shoulders doing?" It was a rhetorical
question of course. He tightened the wrist strap two notches and stood back.
"On your feet, now!"
   She stuggled to comply and maintain her balance at the same time. He
assisted her by placing his right hand in her crotch from behind. His long
strong finger slipped easily into her moist pussy. She stood at attention now,
her eyes wide with the new sensation. he placed his face alongside hers,
working his middle finger farther into her most private place, while his index
finger searched out her clitoris.
   "You feel so fucking good!" She pressed her face against his and managed a
muffled groan by way of her nasal passages. She longed to feel his gorgeous
cock deep inside her. She was roused from this revery by his thumb. The taste
of the leather pear reminded her of a time with a boyfriend where he had 
forced her to unzip his leather pants with her mouth in preperation of giving 
him a blow-job. His finger pressing now against her anus, gently teasing the 
sphincter muscle into contraction. She ventured a look at him, that Chesire 
grin even wider now, then she went weak in the knees. She could feel her 
juices literally dripping down her thighs!
This had never happened to her before. What did it mean? Somehow she managed
to stay on her feet.
   "You haven't seen the rest of the place have you my dear? Allow me to show
you around." He coaxed her forward with the hand that now felt as though it
was a part of her. He lead her toward the back of the room. Another door faced
them. She was afraid to imagine what lay behind it...
   The door opened silently and her nostrils were filled with the delicious
odor of patchouli incense. He closed the door and locked it, all the while
adeptly controlling her motion with his hand buried in her crotch. Her 
shoulders ached and the steel cuffs pressed annoyingly on her wrists. To this 
came the sudden realization that she was going to have to swallow without the 
use of her toungue. By tipping her head back slightly and exercising great 
effort she was able to empty her mouth of most of the surplus saliva. He has 
moving her down the hallway now, toward still another door as his middle 
finger absently messaged her cervex. The third door opened into a very large 
room. Not quite a bedroom though it had the largest bed she'd ever seen, it 
seemed more like a recreation room. There were large cabinets along one wall. 
Another wall was bare except for eyebolts placed at various intervals and 
heights. The bed was closest to the third wall, opposite the wall filled with 
eyebolts. This was the wall that shocked her senses. It was one contiuous 
mirror. But that wasn't the shocking part. It was the woman staring back at 
her. The leather gag held her jaw to it's maximum extension, frozen in the 
pose of a silent scream. Her shoulders were arched back like the proverbial 
soldier at maximum attention, while her forearms disappeared upward and behind 
her back at an impossible angle. This woman looked beautiful! Could it be her? 
He let her stand there for some moments knowing full well what was going 
through her mind. She was coming along beautifully. But Tara would be her real 
test.
   They were both pulled from their reflections as the door burst open. Tara
made her entrance. Tara always made and entrance. She was completely incapable
of simply walking into a room. She was dressed for the occasion: Black leather 
boots with five inch heels disappeared under the red leather miniskirt which 
clung to her like a second skin and a matching red leather bodice tied at the 
front with golden clasps accented her breasts. Her rich blonde hair was tied
back in a pony tail secured with a fine gold chain.  A vicious riding crop 
dangled from her left hand.  "She's darling Robert. Quite darling.
What's her name?"
   "Haven't the slightest."
   "Well take that nasty gag off and we'll find out."
   Robert removed the gag. Tara stepped close to her and tucking her crop
under one arm gently massaged the girl's aching jaw muscles.
   "That's better now isn't it?"
   She nodded. She was learning.
   "Now what might your name be?"
   She spoke only after a nod from Robert, "Betsy. Betsy Loveforce."
   "Why that's a lovely name, isn't it Robert?"
   "I prefer Elizabeth."
   "You're so contrary Robert. You'll find Betsy that Robert is really quite
contrary." Betsy fought the urge to reply and won.
   "I don't suppose Robert offered you any refreshments."
   "She just ate, Tara." He almost laughed.
   "Would you like something to drink dear?"
   "Yes thank you."
   "Well you just have a seat there on the bed and I'll get you something."
   Betsy eased herself down at the foot of the bed. Tara returned with a tall
glass of cranberry juice of all things. There was apparently a refrigerator
concealed in one of those cabinets. Tara held it for Betsy to sip from. It
tasted fantastic.
   "Is that better?"
   "Yes thank you. But my shoulders sure ache."
   Tara looked for the first time at the cuffs and harness, "I'm not surprised.
Robert really is quite the bastard isn't he? But my you are lovely Betsy, you
really are. I wish my hair was your color." 
   Betsy had been struck by Tara's long raven black hair and had had the same
thought about it. 
   "And your breasts are so perfectly shaped. Robert isn't a breast man are
you Robert? I happen to like them."
   Tara's hand lightly traced the outline of Betsy's breasts, as she let each
thumb linger on the nipple of each. 
   "Do you like breasts Betsy?"
   The implication of the question dawned on her slowly. She looked to Robert,
still perched quietly at the other side of the bed, the ever present grin still
in place. Tara used her crop to turn Betsy's face back to face her's. 
   "Didn't you hear me?"
   "I don't suck any womans pussy if thats what you mean."
   "That's not what I asked you now is it?"
   "Oh my God! This woman is a lesbian." The thought bolted now to Betsy's mind.
   "I.... I don't know."
   "I see." Tara smiled, a cold meaningful smile. "You have lovely feet as
well. In fact I think I have a pair of shoes that might fit you." Tara rose
and crossed to one of the cabinets.
   She returned with a pair of the highest heels Betsy had ever seen. She had
something else in her hand, two long white strips about a half inch wide. Tara
helped Betsy into the shoes. Dispite their height, she judged them to be at
least six inches, they were nice. All leather in a classic pump design. 
   "These will take a little getting used to dear. Do they fit?"
   "They're a bit snug."
   "Good." Tara has kneeling before Betsy admiring the graceful arch the shoes
gave to betsy's foot. Now she took one of the long white strips in her hand.
"These will keep them on for you."
   The white strips were cable-wraps used by electricians to bundle wires.
They worked similarly to the cuffs on Betsy's wrists, being held in place by a
ratchet closure. Tare brought one around from behind Betsy's ankle, crossed it
at the front and brought one end around and under the shoe where the top inner
part of the heel attached to the bottom. She then threaded the free end
through the ratched closure and cinched it tightly. The other foot was done
identically to the first, with the excess length snipped off with a wire
cutter. Betsy inspected Tara's handywork: She was right, the shoes were on to
stay. It has now impossible foe her to withdraw her heel from either shoe. But
they did look lovely. 
   "Now stand up."
Betsy complied immediately. Tara was right again. They would take some getting
used to. 
   "Nothing more feminine that high hells is there?"
   "No, I guess not."
Tara took Betsy's face gently in both hands and kissed her on her full pink
lips. This time Betsy didn't try to consider what her reaction should be. She
pulled back and turned her head away. 
   "No please, don't!"
   Tara turned Betsy's face to her. "Now Betsy, now you've really pissed me
off. Kneel!"
   Betsy lowered herself quickly to the floor and stared a a spot in the thick
carpet just in front of Tara's feet. Tara stood very still for a moment, then
spoke to Robert.
   "I'm going to need a pole Robert."
   Robert rose and opened yet another of the many cabinets. Betsy ventured a
look as Robert removed a three foot chrome plated pole. It had threads on one
end. He walked near to the wall with the eyebolts and screwed it into a plate
counter-sunk into the floor. Mean while Tara had made a trip to the supply side
of the room herslf. Stood behind Betsy now and went about her task. The first
implement was as the others, leather. A four inch wide collar was buckled around
Betsy's neck. It was designed to keep the head erect, and the slighly wider
parts on the left and right sides made turning her head nearly impossible.
With great relief Betsy felt Tara remove the strat holding her arms in their
now painfull position.
   "Go over to the pole." Betsy began to rise in obedience but Tara's hand on
her head prevented her. "On your knees!"
   Robert guided her to the desired postion. Her back was placed firmly against
the pole. A second pair of handcuffs were placed around her ankles. A padlock
secured the pair on her wrists to the pair on her ankles. Tara stood before
Betsy now with a second padlock. Gently now Tara reached behind Betsy's head
to secure a grip on the 'D' ring at the back of the collar. She smiled brightly
in to Betsy's face as she forced her head back and down to meet with the
eyebolt welded to the top of the pole. The padlock clicked into place.
   Tara stood back and inspected the girl, "I love that position. Take a look
dear."
   With some effort, Betsy inched her head around to see herself in the
mirrored wall. She could see why Tara liked her this way: Her arms were taut
by virtue of being attached by the wrist to her ankle cuffs. She was forced to
bow her back considerably to afford her neck being attached to the pole with
no leeway. Her firm breasts jutted up toward the ceiling and her beautifully
proportioned pelvis was now the forward most part of her body. She looked back
at Tara now with a little trepidation. "She's goin to beat me! My God, I can't
take that! This has to stop..."
   Tara stands before her now, freezing her thoughts. She clinches her eyes
shut waiting for the first blow. Nothing. She ventures a breath, two, three,
four. Nothing. Silence. Now a scent. Now a bit stronger. Her eyes open to a
wall of leather one inch from her nose. Tara's skirt. Tara's grin looks alot
like Robert's from Betsy's perspective. Now Betsy realises what Tara plans!
Without a word Tara reaches down with both hands and pulls her skirt up, 
revealing her crotch length boots and spreads her legs so that her moist crotch
is positioned over Betsy's upturned face. "Now my dear, you're going to make me
cum."
   Betsy knew that struggling was useless, but she struggled anyway. The scent
of leather was replaced now by the faintly musky odor of Tara's womanhood.
Betsy opened her eyes and was confronted with a perfectly trimmed pubic mount
of jet black hair. Tara's leather encased thighs, firm and strong closed on
each side of Betsy's head preventing even the modicom of movement allowed by
the collar.
She felt something firm, thin and cool rub her inner thigh and Tara's voice.
"I realise you haven't done this before Betsy, so I'll coach you a bit. When
you're doing well you'll feel my crop where it is now. When you're not doing
well.."
   Betsy's inner left thigh felt the end of Tara's sentence. A sharp rap, just
enough to sting on her inner left thigh. Tara moved forward again and in
straddling Betsy's shoulders lowered herself onto Betsy's mouth. Betsy felt
Tara's outerlips seperate along her chin and the warm juices now lubricate her
mouth, which was still tightly closed. Another sharp sting on her inner thigh
convinced Betsy to begin her task. Cautiously she opened her mouth just enough
to allow her tongue egress to Tara's inner lips. To her utter shock she didn't
find the taste unpleasant. Her ex-fiance Bill, had always made such a fuss
about "eating" her she had assumed the taste of a woman to be far less than
pleasant. She could feel Tara respond, and again to her surprise she was
pleased at the effect she was creating. Betsy opened her mouth wider now, and
put her tongue farther into Tara. Tara responded by sliding a bit backward to
allow Betsy access to her clitorus. Betsy's instincts carried her forward.
Tara moved forward as well. She began moaning and actually dropped her crop as
she reached forward with both hands to take hold of Betsy's hair. "Sweet
Jesus... Yes.... Oh God.... Yes, yes...."
   The stiffening of Tara's body and her scream of passion pleased Betsy very
much. She greedily licked and sucked as Tara released the flow of her orgasm
onto Betsy's face. Tara nearly fell backward, but Robert was there to keep her
up. He picked Tara up easily and laid her on the bed. As he stood before Betsy
she could see by the lump in his jeans that he had enjoyed the performance
alot. "You prove my excellent judgement Elizabeth. You learn quickly indeed."
   He to steps to her and with his skilled right hand annoints his palm with
the result of Betsy's excitement. He holds his hand to her face. "You're a
fucking natural Elizabeth."
   "I just didn't want to be beaten."
   She nearly convinced herself, but Robert seemed nonplussed. "You're lying."
   "I'm not!"
   "You're a natural slave and you like eating pussy, admit it."
   "Fuck you!"
   It had happened to her only a few times in her life, but always with these
dire consequences. The realisation that her mouth was far ahead of her brain
always came too late to do her any good. The last time it happened was with
Bill, and he had left her for it. Robert had remained silent and motionless
since Betsy's insult. he squatted there studying her, now he nods. "I guess I'm
going to have to make a very stong impression on you Elizabeth. A very strong
impression..."
   Tara had regained her composure now and was sitting propped up against the
pillows observing the exchange. "You're in some deep shit now Betsy, his temper
is far worse than mine."
   Betsy managed to rotate her head far enough to see Tara's mocking smile. She
glared at both of them, but managed to remain silent. Robert had made his way
back to the cabinets. He produced yet another pole, but this one was different
than the one that Betsy was locked to now. It was about four feet long and had
a knurled cylinder about a foot from the end. A narrower section protruded from
with the first. It reminded Betsy of A microphone stand. Robert placed the
threded end into a second plate about two feet in front of where Betsy kneeled
now. Robert observed Betsy studying the new implement. "Any questions?"
   "No."
   Another trip to the cabinet produced something Robert placed in his back
pocket, and a set of keys. He released Betsy from the three foot pole, and
freed her wrists fron their attachement to her ankle cuffs. That was all. He
forced her to her feet and let her stand teetering on her six inch heels. 
"What do you think Tara, can she take it?"
   "Like you said Robert, a very strong impression is in order."
   "Tell us about Bill Elizabeth."
   Betsy was taken aback. Robert waited. "Do it today!"
   "There isn't much to tell."
   "You dumped him didn't you?"
   "No, he left me."
   "Why?", this question came from Tara. "Because.... I don't really know."
   Robert laughs,"I think you do. Wasn't it because you didn't think him a
strong enough, shall we say, personality?"
   "No."
   "I don't think you understand the question well enough yet. But you will.
Yes indeed, you will."
   The cabinet yielded a third pole, like the first it was three feet long,
but its major feature was handcuff welded to each end. The chain links had been
removed from the swivel that extends from the case and a thick ring had been
inserted, the opposite end of which was welded to the pole. Robert lifted Betsy
and stood her very near  the "mic stand", as she thought of it now. He quickly
removed her ankle cuffs and replaced them with the third pole. This made
Betsy's balance even more precarious as the height of her shoes, combined with
their snug binding to her feet left her little room to compensate on the thick
carpet. She reached back with one cuffed wrist to balance herself on the
mic-stand. Robert rotated her ninety degrees so that she faced the mirrored
wall. She was again shocked to see the seudo stranger staring back at her. She
able to observe fully noe the effect the collar had on her features. It
elongated the line of her neck, and gave her a regal stature. Robert read her
thoughts and pulled her thick auburn hair into a ponytail for her to see the
collar better.    They stood side by side admiring the display. Betsy spoke in
a nearly confidential tone to Robert. "What do I have to understand?"
   "I can't explain it to you. When you realise it you'll know. Until then keep
your fucking mouth shut unless your spoken too."
   Robert's grip tightened, Betsy winced as he formed a fist with her hair as
its center. Tara looked on silently. Betsy's eyes were closed when Robert gave
her the most arousing kiss of her life. Her eyes were still closed when he
inched her over the top of the pole. The end she was gripping for balance hae
moved. Robert secured someting to the top of the narrow tube. Betsy's hand
explored its surface. It was a cylinder, about two inches in diameter, but not
metal. A dense plastic perhaps. It tapered ver y slightlty toward the top only
to widen inot a egg shaped tip. She couldn't shift her position to see it in
the mirror, but the implications both frightened and fascinated her. Noe Robert
was behind her, bending to his task. The knurled cylinder is loosened, lowered,
now she can see the devise occupying the uend of the tube! "For the love of
God, you're not serious?!"
   Robert was at her hair again. This time a rubber ball with a strap running
laterally through it was forced behind her teeth and buckled at the nape of her
neck. Their eyes met in the mirror. "You must be a fan of Poe, Elizabeth. That
was Fortunado's line in A Cask of Amantilliado. And how did Montresor reply? I
believe he said,'Yes Fortunado, for the love of God.'."
   With that Robert raised the pole until the dildo was at the entrance to her
vulva. I don't think we'll need the KY Jelly, do you Elizabeth?"
   Not too much to her surprise the dildo entered with little difficulty. Two,
three, five inches. Her fingers reflexively curled, then groped uselessly for
the pole. Six, Robert was transfixed by her expression, seven inches. Betsy
began to moan, a little saliva works its way around her gag. Just short of
eight inches of penetration Robert secured the pole into place. With his index
finger he collected the drop of saliva from her chin and watching her in the
mirror licked it from his finger. "My but you are lovely Elizabeth."
   As unbelievable as it seemed to her Betsy had never felt lovelier. The
dildo filled her maddenly! The combination of the sight and the sensation
nearly drove her mad with desire. Her clitorus throbbed, time seemed to slow.
Sights, sounds and sensation had no separation. She heard Robert's voice. Tara
was kneeling before her. "Here's your chance Tara. Show Elizabeth how pussy
should be eaten."
   "You can push a point can't you Robert? Feeling a bit threatened?"
   Robert stood behind Tara, facing Betsy as Tara did, though kneeling. His
knee made contact with the back of Tara's neck, forcing her into contact with
Betsy's pubic bone. "Go on Tara, give Betsy something she's never had before.
I'm trying to be generous here. Think about the question Elizabeth, and quit
dribbling."
   He wiped the saliva from her chin with the palm of his hand. Betsy took the
opportunity to rub her cheek across the back of his hand. She wanted contact
with him very much, but he seemed the master of aloofness among other things.
They locked eyes, and for an instant his sardonic grin seemed to soften. A
smile crossed his lips. It transformed his features considerably . He was even
more attractive. She tried to remember the question, and tried to imagine what
it was that he understood so well. The warm electricity spread quickly up from
her groin. It was Tara. Her tongue more specifically, and her lips. They sought
and found  the most sensative part of her, the center of her universe, thje
Alpha-Omega of her existence. Tara's hands caressed each breast and the circuit
was complete. She had heard women talk about it. She had read articles and
listened attentively to Dr. Ruth explain the physical/emotional factors
governing the experience. She had talked to Bill at least five thousand times
about it, or the lack of it. He tried to understand at first, but quickly 
became disinterested and finally very defensive. She even attended a seminar. 
Nothing had prepared her. Not even her own furtive self manipulations. She 
stepped to a new echelon, the proverbial pinnacle. She had gained the summit 
of summits.
Every nerve of every fiber of every sensory channel in her body filled beyond
any capacity she had ever dreamt of. All driven by the tiny nuclear pile just
above her urethra. She wondered if it might kill her where she stood. Impaled
as she was with herlegs locked in a three foot stance and her mouth filled
with a rubber ball. She didn't care. It would be  a very nice way to shed this
lifetime. She let her body do as it willed. She really had no options. 
She screamed,but the large rubber ball made it come out as a throaty gurgle.
She strained against the dildo to gain a millimeter's width toward Tara's 
mouth, the God of this fantastic genesis. Her vagina sprang to life, seeking 
to crush it's occupant.
 Failing it tried again and again. Betsy forgot about the cuffs on her wrist
and attemped to reach around to grasp Tara's head. Even the resulting pain in
her wrists felt wonderful. her clenched eyelids became a screen. Three
dimension, full color, stereo hi-fidelity sound ebbing and flowing to the rest
of the experience.  She guessed that it lasted days, or perhaps minutes,
perhaps weeks.
   Einstienian space/time lost all significance. This was a whole new
continuum. She didn't remember Robert holding her up. Or he and Tara gently
removing her from the pole and placing her gently on the bed. She was in
Otherwheres and Elsewhens. A cosmic mote blown by the solar wind. She slept
the sleep of the utterly exhausted.
   Betsy awoke from a dreamless sleep. The initial moment of disorientation
surrendered to the memory of her passion and joy. She was in a different room,
smallerand like all the others she'd seen, without windows. She was curious
about the lack of them, amond many other things. The sheet covering her was
silk and smelled of jasmine. The sourceless light was low and held the same
amber color of the first room she'd entered here. How long ago was that? How
long had she been sleeping? Where was this experience leading, and why had it
begun?    What was it that drew her to Robert and Tara? How had they been able
to manipulate her so effeciently? Alot of questions and absolutely no answers.
She thought back to her decision to spend some time out of town. To get away
from her dissapointment in Bill, and in herself for letting a relationship she
had invested so much in dissolve. This retreat had been highly recommended by
several people on Compuserve. She wondered now if there hadn't been an ulterior
motive to their recommendation. "Jesus, here I am imagining a conspiracy. Time
to get a grip on myself, and get some answers."
   Since her awakening she had laid completely still, feeling very warm and
perfectly comfortable. Now she needed to find a bathroom. Another surprise
greeted her as she sat up to get a better look at her room. She was clinking!
Throwing back the sheet revealed the source of the sound. She was completely
nude save for a set of taylored chains. The one inch links were welded and
chrome plated. The two foot length connecting her wrists terminated at each
end with a stainless steel manacle. She admired the workmanship. Both manacles
were nearly form fitting. She could barely squeeze her index finger underneath
them, yet they were so well shaped and their one and a half inch width flared
outward slightly that she was able to move her wrists freely, or very nearly.
Nothing so garish as a padlock secured them. They were held closed by a steel
rivet through the hole in the hasp at the top of her wrist. A second length of
chain descended from the center of the length at her wrists and through a
weleded ring attached to the stainless steel belt around her waist. The belt
was constructed of two half elipses. A hasp and rivet secured it at the left
and right. Additional rings adorned the belt in front and back. The second
chain continued downward to it's end at a third length that connected her legs
at the knee. These manacles were form fitted as well and made their home jsut
below the knee joint. As she stood and took her first step she realized
Robert's sardonic sense of humor was at work. The length of the chain at her
knees just barely prevented her from taking a normal stride. A second doorway
across from her bed opened to a bathroom. The medicine chest was well stocked,
including a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, aspirin, etc. A hairbrush lay
on the counter near the sink. She made use of it gladly. The 25 year old woman
staring back at her from the mirror was more that slightly tussled from her
recent adventures. She considered the shower stall. It too was well stocked.
Soap, expensive shampoo and rinse, thick cotton towels. The chains would make
it a bit awkward, but it she couldn't go another minute without a shower!
Thanfully the length of chain connecting her wrists to her knees could slide
through the ring on the waist belt. By crouching a bit and bending at the waist
she was able to get her hands up high enough to wash her hair. She hated
nothing more in this world than to have the pride and joy that was her thick
natural auburn hair that now reached easily to the center of her back to be in
any way soiled. She had been that way since an early age. Her mother would have
to coax her out of the bath rather than into it and she had always taken joy in
maintaining a body that both men and women had admired all her life. She had
bben spared the trauma of pimples as a teenager and she believed her cleansing
rituals were a major factor. She felt a thousand percent better when the
emerged from the bathroom, but hungry. She attributed the odor of toast and
coffee in her bedroom to imagination. When had she eaten last? The memory of
Robert's contributi on to her nutrition flashed up. Reflexively her hand
sought out her sex and her eyelids dipped in reverie. The odor of breakfast
was stronger now. She noticed avent near the ceiling on the far wall. Yes, the
smell was stronger here. Somewhere food was cooking and she decided to find
where.    The door to her bedroom was unlocked. The hallway lead in two
directions. The door at the right end was locked. The door at the other end
wasn't. It lead to sixty foot circular atrium. The walls her stacked granit
boulders, mostly overgrown with ivey, and rose a full twenty feet to support a
geodesic glass dome. A fig tree occupied the center of the room. The reddish
morming light glowed from the ripe figs. Betsy couldn't help herself. She
promptly picked a low hanging fruit , (her chains allowed her to raise her
hands only to the height of her breasts) and began eating greedily. She found
a second fruit within reach and picked it as well. She examined the room as
she ate. The granite and ivey made the room pleasantly and naturaly cool. The
earthy scent of the ivey brought back a memory from childhood. laughing a
screaming she and her friends would roll in the ivey fronting the library in
the early days of summer. It was where she first kissed a boy. He wasn't
expecting it at all. Poor Peter, he didn't know what to do. She was elated.
She was elated now. She curled up against the cool/sweet granite and serenely
ate her stolen fruits. Her questions and concerns were forgotten. Any
introspection on Betsy's part would have given her pause. There she sat, locked
in steel manacles, less than eighteen hours after her first orgasm, (and
induced by a woman at that!) completely nude save for the chrome chain, eating
figs in an atrium. Definately not the way she had planned on spending her
summer vacation. She watched the cotton ball clouds pass across the hemisphere
of the dome as the morning light edged toward gold. "Good morning Idyll!"
   It was Robert. He wore a thigh length silk robe. Betsy liked his legs. She
looked to him, then away, suddenly feeling shy. She licked the remnants of fig
from her fingers and studied the terra-cotta floor. "You've stolen my figs."
   Betsy glanced up. A smile, like the one yesterday, replaced the sardonic
grin. "Forgive me.... Master."
   This time she was the one grinning. Robert walked to her and stood in the
spot on the floor she gazed at. "Fig stealing is a serious offence. But your
are so incredibly, starkly beautiful sitting there..."
   Betsy leaned forward and carressed his calfs, letting her cheek press
against the hem of his robe. He ran his hand through her still damp hair. Her
hands rose to the limit of their chain reveling to the feel of the firm muscle
beneath the smooth skin. 
She grew excitied kneeling there. Robert's breathing, deep and rythmic, rose
slowly above the quiet clink of chain. His hands held her head against him. She
felt the beautlifully sculpted shaft that was his passion force the silk 
against her face. Now he knelt down to face her. He wiped a bit of fig from 
her lip. His hands were hot and soft on her face. "You've captured me haven't 
you?"
   A second of irony gave way to a glimmer of understanding in Betsy. But it
was fleeting and temporal. They kissed. He pulled her gently to the floor. She
lay on her side. A cloud crossed the sun as he entered her. She thought that
somehow fitting. He murmured to her. She had never known a man to be so
intensely gentle, so responsive to her body. It was as if he truly shared it
with her. His only wish was to give her pleasure. Two as one nestled like
spoons. Laying there on the terra-cotta floor of the atrium she experienced the
second oogasm of her life.    Tara seemed in a pensive mood. She barely spoke
during breakfast, making only the minimum replies to Robert's small talk.
Betsy was content to listen and watch the way his mouth moved when he spoke. 
He had a lovely mouth. So did Tara. I occured to her as they sat there eating
breakfast together on a sunfilled deck some time in the late morning on some
day of the year somewhere in the world, that they all looked like an animated
version of a photograph in Sunset Magazine. She smiled to herself as she tried
to imagine how her set of chains might fit into the caption. She reveled in
feeling the passing of moments unconnected by any significance. She was in her
element and out of it at the same time. The deck looked out on a large park
like setting. Old growth oak, birch, poplar and holly juxtaposed among morning
glory and ferns. Robert had stopped talking. He had returned to reading a copy
of Faust. Tara had finished her cursory perusal of the New Yorker and chin in
hand, stared out toward the park. She turned to Betsy quickly with a bit of a
glimmer in her eye. "Do you like blueberrys Betsy?"
   "Very much."
   "There's a big bush fill of them just over that hill."
   Tara pointed straight out the sliding glass door. The ground did rise
noticeably. Betsy could make out what seemed to be a path leading to it. It
must have been over half a mile away. "Do you want me to go pick some?"
   "We'll both go. But you'll need some boots. I'll be right back."
   Robert watched Tara leave, then smiled at Betsy. "Boots, ahh yes, she just 
loves the sight of booted legs.  I wouldn't be surprised with what she has in
store for you slave."
   Robert's grin grew broader. "Get used to wearing leathers, because her 
wardrobe is exclusively leather."
   Tara was not gone long. She returned with a Gucci boot box and handed it to
Betsy. "I hope they fit dear."
   The first thing Betsy noticed about the box was it's size. It mast have
been over two feet long. She removed the top and for a moment had absolutely no
idea what she was looking at, except that they were black leather. "Well they 
seem to go with my outfit, whatever they are."
   Tara took the box. "Here I'll show you."
   Tara took the soft black leather boots out of the box and held them up for
Betsy to see. "Now, pull these on". Tara stood back and watched as Betsy 
pulled the boots up her legs until the tops of the boots were riding just
into her crotch.  "Stand up."
   Betsy rose carefully. She felt a bit like an acrobat trying to balance. Her
heel was now raised the maximum possible distance from the floor, the heels 
on the boots were seven inches and her big toe sat at a right angle to her 
instep. A very strange feeling. She had to bend a bit at the knee to keep from 
falling forward. "I don't know about this Tara."
   "Well they look fantastic, don't they Robert?"
   "Very nice work. You've succeeded."
   "Nice of you to admit it."
   "Have I missed something?"
   Robert explained patiently, "Those boots are the result of a conversation
Tara and I had about a week ago. She was saying that anything could be reduced
to a functional essence or simplicity. The simpler the form, the more powerful.
It's concentrated that way. Isn't that right tara?"
   She nodded. Robert continued. "In a sublte way it's a study in power and
control. As our whole experience here has been. Power and the control of power.
The same thing Faust was seeking. He wasn't really interested in God at all. He
wanted power and the ability to control it. He wanted the upper hand. The fact
that Mephisto was the only one to come through for him was Goethe's way of
being sarcastic and pious at the same time.  we're taught from the time we
learn to crawl that power is bad, dangerous and harmful you see? It's the grand
illusion, and a way to gain power over another. If you want to control someone,
just convince them that power is naughty. From there on out you got them in a
bag."
   Betsy thought on this for a moment. She looked from Tara to Robert then at
herself standing there as she was, ostensibly enslaved. She recalled Robert's
earlier remark about her capturing him. The concept began to firm up in her
mind, but it was like trying to pick up a tomato seed. "C'mon dear, lets go
pick berries."
   Betsy began to get the hang of her new boots by the time she and Tara
reached the door leading to the park. It stood immediately below the deck at
ground level. Tara stopped suddenly, "I think I'd rather ride,  and you need 
to cover yourself up more. Wait right here I'll be back in a jiffy."
   Tara hurried back through the door. Betsy took the opportunity to rest
against a granite boulder nearby. The boots didn't hurt, but the bones and
tendons in her feet and legs weren't used to their extreme position. The late
morning was so beautiful. Hundreds of birds contributed to the collective chorus.
The breeze was light and warm and scented with jasmine. As the breeze flowed
across her naked breasts her nipples grew stiff, reminding her that all she
had on were her leather boots. Betsy thought about Robert's little monologue. 
There was a simple, essential concept behind his remarks but he was leaving it 
to her to discover. She had read Faust in college, but never attached much 
significance to what she believed to be the work of a neurotic German. 
Thinking back on the story now she could see Robert's point.
It did revolve around power. Yes power and control, and something else,
something that brought it all together. Tara returned in a new outfit. Betsy
was honestly shocked. Tara wore nothing but a pair of brown leather chapps! 
She carried a large armfull of leather contraptions and straps. "Here we are 
dear."
   Tara was full of mischief. "Turn around."
   Betsy obeyed but looked over her shoulder. Tara dropped her load on the
ground and picked out the largest item. It bore a vague resemblance to a
saddle, but closer to human proportions. The broadest part of the saddle was
placed against Betsy's back. 
The opposite side was shaped roughly like a contoured stool seat. Stirrups
hung from each side. Betsy turned away as Tara threw the first strap over her
shoulder. "Hold on just a minute Tara. This is too much."
   "Look Betsy, this can be easy or this can be difficult. It's up to you."
   "You can't be serious. I'm not a damn horse."
   Tara stepped close to Betsy's face and spoke intently. "You my dear, are any
damn thing I want you to be. After your little thing with Robert, I want to 
show you how much control I have over you!  This is lesson two. Removal of 
options."
   With her final sentence Tara placed a booted foot on the chain connecting
Betsy's knees. Betsy promptly assumed a kneeling position. Tara buckled the
"saddle" onto Betsy's back. Two straps went over her shoulders. Like a
backpack. A third buckled just below her breasts. A fourth just above her
steel belt, and a fifth pulled the shoulder straps closer together across her
breasts. Next Tara padlocked Betsy's wrist chain to the ring on the steel belt.
Now she couldn't reach the buckles. The excess chain leading down was pulled up
through Betsy's crotch and locked to a ring at the back of the belt. "This
isn't going to work Tara."
   Tara made no reply . "I assume Robert told you about my thing with 
leather?, well my slave, I am going to make things REAL UNCOMFORTABLE for 
you" With that Tara reached down to the pile and brought out a leather hood 
which she pulled down over her slaves head and secured behind her head with
a flourish. Betsy's nostrils flaired desperately sucking in air, the hoods 
only opening was eye slits and a slit for her mouth. The hood radically cut
down on how she could breathe. Next she placed a steel bit between Betsy's 
leather covered lips. It buckled behind her head. Another "Y" shaped strap 
came up from each side of the bit-bar to a ring just above the bridge of 
Betsy's nose. A third strap at the top of that ring went over the top of her 
head and buckled to the one holding the bit in place. Leather reins hung from 
each side of the bit-bar.
With a wicked grin on her face Tara stood back to relish the sight of her 
helpless slave. "Just one more thing and I do believe we'll be ready" From 
her never ending supply Tara pulls out a leather cock harness which she straps
around Betsy's waist making sure the vibrating cock is fully seated inside of 
Betsys's now enlarged anus.  I think we're ready for a ride now dear. 
"Hold still."
   Carefully Tara mounted the seat that protruded at a right angle from the
base strapped to Betsy's back. Betsy was surprised at how evenly the weight
seemed distributed. The rubber cock inside her gave pleasent sensations as it 
hummed. The fact that Tara only weighed one hundered and five pounds
helped too. Tara placed a boot in each stirrup and settled herself in the
saddle. "Get up! Lets go."
   Betsy hesitated a little too long for Tara's mood. She felt Tara last toy
before she saw it. The tip of a quirt landed on her left thigh. Betsy rose
unsteadily. The additional weight made itself know on her feet immediately.
Tara pulled the reins to point her in the direction on the path. It looked a
hundred miles long to Betsy now. "Giddyap!"
   Again the quirt slapped her thigh. Just enough to be annoying. Betsy had no
choice but to begin her trek. As she walked she had to get used to having her
ass cheeks spead apart and the way the vibrating cock made her walk.  
Tara's remark about loss of options became quite clear now. At that point 
Betsy would have liked nothing better that to use that damned quirt on her. 
Betsy leaned forward and began moving slowly up the path.
Despite her predicament the chain through her cheeks began to work its magic.
Every step she took made the chain rub up against the cock and worked the cock 
back and forth causing her to stuble every now and then.  By the time they had 
gone one hundred yards she was breathing harder from excitement than from 
exertion. The inside of her leather hood had grown moist from her breath 
and the smell of the wet leather was driving her wild. 
Tara must have sensed something. She dropped the reins and reached around 
to grasp Betsy's nipples between thumb and forefinger. Betsy halted and 
moaned. Now Tara made use of her booted feet to goade Betsy forward. 
She leaned forward to whisper in Betsy's ear. "C'mon slavey just a little 
farther. Good slavey, keep going, don't stop."
   Somehow she managed to continue. The path curved ten yards ahead.  Tara
pulled on the corresponding nipple to guide Betsy toward it. They reached the
edge and Betsy fell to her knees. Tara dismounted and stood before the girl.
She ran a hand through the auburn hair. "I should have given you a pony
tail."
   Betsy pressed her face against the leather chapps and reveled in the scent.
Tara unbuckled the bit straps, letting it fall to the grass. "You are so God
damned beautiful Betsy. I get wet just looking at you. And I'm not gay either."
   Betsy looked up to the woman with a start. Their eyes met. betsy smiled.
Soon they were both in the throws of laughter. Tara knelt to face Betsy. The
glow of friendship touched them both. "You understand now don't you?"
   "I understand. Thank you."
   "It's not enough to say you understand BITCH, You must serve me fully!" 
"Are you thirsty Dear?" Betsy could only stare up at Tara and nod her head, 
the ride was exhausting.  Slowly Tara lowered her parted thighs around Betsy's 
head and mated her wet pussy to Betsy's mouth. "Now drink, my slave so that 
you will have the strength to get back to the house".  As Betsy opened her 
mouth to protest Tara's urine flowed into it, overflowing as Betsy gulps 
weren't as fast as Tara could piss.  Betsy tried to move her head from side to 
side, but Tara's thighs held her in place allowing the warm, sharp smelling 
liquid to pool inside her hood.  After relieving herself in Betsy's hood, Tara 
remained squatted over Betsy's leather encased head relishing the sight of 
the wet face below her. "Tell me slut, how does it feel to have another woman 
piss on you?"  Betsy lay there, feeling totally degraded, deprived of movement 
she could only think of how her life had changed. "I am your pussy slave, and 
I want nothing more than to please you" she replied.  Satisfied, Tara allowed 
Betsy to walk back to the house unridden. The saddle was removed upon 
their return, and Betsy was led to a room she hadn't seen before.
The ceiling rose twenty feet to a domed skylight. White marble covered each
wall, but was visible only above the ten foot high bookshelves that surrounded
the room. The titles ranged from mathematics to philosophy to science fiction
to classic liturature. A grey marble desk dominated the room with its twelve
feet by six austerely reflected in the black marble floor. Betsy's shoes rang
out brightly as she paced along the books. Robert  entered at the opposite end
of the room through a door concealed by the marble. He was able to slip into
the glove leather executive chair without Betsy noticing. She turned sharply
at the sound of his voice, nearly losing her balance on the slick marble. "So,
you think you've learned something."
   "Yes."
   "Come over here where I can see you better.", he pointed to a spot a few
feet in front of the desk. She covered the distance gingerly as her boots
afforded little traction. Robert examined Betsy while she studied the swirls
of the marble floor at her feet. He like what he saw very much. Her deprotment
contained much dignity considering the chains and manacles on her wrists, knees
and waist. Her balance had improved since her walk Tara's diabolical "boots"
complemented Betsy's slim ankles and excellent legs perfectly. "So tell me what
you've learned.", he sank back in the chair, gently interlacing his fingers.
He reminded Betsy of a school principal, albeit a rather kinky one. "It's hard
to explain."
   "Do your best, but do it now."
   She regarded Robert. "I've learned that I'm a source of power and control."
   "Go on."
   "Go on?"   He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the grey marble, "You
seem determined to drag this thing out. Assuming you have indeed learned
something, you need some incentive to explain it. Kneel."
   The unyielding marble made an immediate impact on her manacled knees. She
couldn't stay that way long. "Now, go on."
   She smiled up at him, "It revolves around appearances. By appearance I am
subjugated, and you are the one with power. In reality it's the reverse. I've
seen the way you've looked at me, with respect, even awe. I felt it when you
made love to me. I'd never experienced that before... It took me by surprise.
I gain power by submitting, by the effect I create on you... Tara too."
   Robert smiled down at her. "Arise, oh learned one. It's nice to know my
efforts haven't been wasted. Heaven knows they have been in the past."
   "I'm glad I didn't disappoint you."
   "There is one more thing to accomplish, if you want to graduate."
   Tara didn't hear Betsy enter the bathroom, partly due to the fact that the
shower was running, and partly due to the fact Betsy no longer clinked or
clicked. For the first time in over forty eight hours Betsy was wearing
clothes and enjoying full freedom of movement. Quietly, Betsy laid out the
contents of her arms on the counter. Her supplies consisted of a tapered
leather "glove" two and a half feet long. The narrow end was sealed. The wide
end was open and straps were attached at each end of the opening. A leather gag
and an assortment of straps completed her kit. Betsy waited patiently while
Tara finished her shower. Finally the water was shut off. Betsy backed further
against the wall, a two foot leather strap in her hand. Robert told her Tara
liked to struggle, so Betsy hoped the element of surprise would work in her
favor. The glass door of the shower enclosure opened suddenly toward Betsy.
Tara stepped out and reached for the robe hanging from the hook opposite 
Betsy's hiding place. Betsy pounced.In one swift movement she pinned Tara 
against the wall. "What the hell?"
   "The worm turns Tara dear."
   Tara's struggles made no progress against Betsy's full weight pressing her
against the wall. Betsy pulled first one arm then the other behind Tara's back.
The strap pulled them togther above the elbow. Betsy held Tara by the dripping
hair with one hand and grabbed the "glove" with the other. Slipping onto Tara's
arms was quite easy. The straps criss-crossed over her breasts and buckled
securely under her armpits. Three more straps attached laterally along the
glove. One above the elbows, one below, and a third just above the wrists.
Betsy cinched these as far as she could. Tara's elbows touched within their
leather confines. 
Once she had the "glove" secured she reached around and picked up a weird 
contraption. On one end it was a rubber hood but with a 3 foot tube coming 
out of the mouth and it went to a pair of rubber panties where it entered the
crotch area. Holding it up for Tara to see clearly she told her what it was
for.  "NO, I will not allow it to be done, NO!" screamed Tara as the 
implications came clear.  "You know you don't really have anything to say in 
this matter, now do you?" With that Betsy knelt down and pulled the black
rubber hood down over Taras protesting face and secured the bottom of
the hood around her neck. "Now I know you can't see anything dear, but you
will enjoy what I've got" The rubber encased head could only shake 
violently no, but Betsy didn't care.  As she stood up and pulled on the
tight rubber panties Betsy was shaking like a leaf she was so excited. She
stood there and marveled at the tube that now connected her pussy to the
helpless Taras face.  Sitting down on the toilet seat, Betsy relaxed "Now
mt sweet I will start to get my revenge at how you treated me, Oh, by the
way did I tell you that I really have to go to the bathroom?, Yes I do its
been all day and I really have to go" After uttering those words Betsy
relaxed and started to pee, and reached down to remove the kink in the
hose. When she grabbed the hose she realized how warm it was and smiled
at the thought at what was happening to Tara at that moment.  The figure 
laying on the floor was bucking and heaving as the warm golden fluid was
flowing down the tube onto her tightly clenched lips.  When Tara realized 
that unless she started to swallow she was not going to be able to breathe
she opened her mouth and gagged, but drank in Betsys urine. Betsy, meanwhile
was sitting back, her legs spread wide as she massaged her rubber encased 
pussy while she watched Tara struggle with what was coming down the tube.
"What the...." Betsy looked up to find Robert standing in the doorway, that
ever-present grin plastered on his face.  As he stood there his right hand
made its way between the folds of his silk robe caressing his ever
growing cock as he watched the helpless Tara finish her task.  Squatting
down over Taras face Robert induldges himself and removes the tube from the
mouthpiece and forces his cock between the shiny rubber lips of Tara pushing 
his cock deeper down her throat until his pubic hairs rest against the 
rubber hood.  


Lealov
5/14/91
 

Lealov
