Having It All (22 page)

“And now, my dear little Redheaded bitch,” Ellen began, in her very sternest Dom voice. “You are going to pay for being such a pain in the ass. Get ready for the beating of your life.”

Ellen then strapped a leather chastity belt rig around Red’s narrow waist, unceremoniously jammed two nasty, serrated and pre-greased prongs up her cunt and ass and tightened the crotch strap without mercy, down to the last notch on the belt.

“How’s that, Honey?” Ellen snapped.

“Echhhz dooo thiayyyyth,” came the muffled and muted reply from inside the hood.

“Yeah, it probably is too tight, but this will distract you a bit, I think, from what’s coming next,” said Ellen as she attached a hanging chain to the front of the belt and wound up the winch until there was strong tension on the belt. This tended to drive the dual serrated probes deeper into their newly discovered homes between Red’s thrashing legs and her struggling movements caused unanticipated sensations to flow from her crotch and her asshole with alarming intensity.

Ellen, watching for this moment, backed away to gain operating room and launched her heavy horsewhip with the three sizzling braided tails at the end. The sound on the eight foot long horsehide flail speeding through the arc from Ellen’s arm to the hanging girl’s body was immense. It filled the room and was punctuated by the thudding impact of leather and the three tails striking woman flesh.

“Ahhhhh, yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” was the muted scream from inside the hood.

Ellen recovered the whip as though she hadn’t even heard the scream and repeated the blow, this time striking a bit further up the swinging, contorted torso and making full contact with the base of each pinioned breast. As the screams from inside the hood replaced the whip’s impact noise, bright red welts appeared on Red’s straining body, one at the breasts and one slightly below them. Red thrashed against the suspension chains, raising and lowering her pinioned body without any thoughts other than to escape the inevitable next strike from Ellen’s formidable whip. Of course, Ellen carefully controlled the blows so as not to do any permanent damage, but at that time, Red was certain that she was being eternally maimed by the whip. Neither woman heard or saw the two ninja-like figures that quietly entered the room, threw a heavy tarp over Ellen and swept her to the ground. The tarp muffled the sound of Ellen falling and the second figure picked up the whip and quickly administered another telling blow to Red’s hips. Screams from both women filled the room, but also served to confuse the sounds so that anyone listening would not have heard anything especially alarming. Clearly one broad was beating the hell out of another. SOP. What else is new at the camp?

But Ellen was quickly and very effectively immobilized with several straps; gagged, stripped and hooded. The black clad figures, one female and one male, then set about arranging the two captives in a more bazaar configuration. When they were done, Ellen and Red were tightly bound together in the classic sixty-nine position with Red on top and Ellen facing her from below. They were supported by chains wrapped around their bodies in what would have been, if it was rope, a well executed and carefully stylized Japanese suspension which utilized several wrappings of chain around the torso, arms, waist and legs of the captives. The slings had been abandoned and the two hooded and gagged women swung slowly back and forth in the multiple chain suspension. Ellen’s black hooded head was buried between Red’s thighs, held there by a chain from the top of her hood and fastened to the back of the waist chains around Red’s middle. Red’s head was similarly positioned in Ellen’s crotch. What could not be seen were the double ended dildos that had been mounted on the front of each hood through the mouth hole, with one end shoved into the unwilling mouth of the wearer and the reverse end imbedded well up inside the cunt of the other.

“Lovely suspension work, Lynda,” said Ted as he turned to his companion in black skinsuit and hood.

“Thank you, Sir. Not bad for my first adventure on the other side, huh?”

“No, not bad at all. Would you like to join me in my quarters where, if you like, we can act out a similar scenario?”

“Why not? These two won’t be needing us for a couple of hours.”

“Oh, they’re both good for the night, Kiddo. We have the evening to ourselves,” Ted added as they left the Ops room, locked the door and started down the hall towards the elevator.

“So, Lynda, how do you like being on the Dom side for a change?”

“Refreshingly different, to use an old advertising slogan,” Lynda replied.

“You were in advertising?”

“Yeah. Crappy way to make a living. You either take a tiny, minute truth and blow it up to look like it’s all encompassing or you just plain lie and hope you don’t get caught or if you get caught, you have a better legal team than those who discover the lie.”

“You’re not going back?”

“Hell, no. There are better things to do with the rest of my life.”

“I agree.”

Behind them in the darkness, suspended five feet above the stone floor, the two naked, hooded figures wiggled and squirmed in their chain harness. The twin heads moved vigorously about, tracing circles and in and out movement while the hips rotated and shook. Both bodies seemed to have found release in their situation and it was clear to both women that although this actual arrangement had not occurred to either of them, it fit in pretty well with what they both had buried somewhere in their minds as a possibility somewhere in fantasyland. No one was going to interfere.

In fact, very few people even knew they were there. Of course, Frank, Ted and Max had set up the whole scene. They had enlisted the anxiously willing help of Lynda who had been restlessly seeking something new in her camp life. The plan was carried out flawlessly and it was, like so much else at camp, a result of mutual interests and sharing. At that moment, Ellen and Red were sharing each other. A small twitch from one elicited a similar twitch from the other. One head pulled back a bit against the restraining hood chain and the other hooded head did the same. After a bit of experimentation, they were able to work in concert and the scene, if one had been watching, was like a carefully orchestrated ballet, with audio accompaniment from inside the hoods. Humming, screams, groans and hisses alternately emanated from behind the penis gags and the sweat-soaked leather of the hoods.

Ingrid, the Amazon from New York City, was also in a unique position…one she had not experienced ever before but was certainly enjoying. Lying on her side in a small metal crate, which was more like a sealed steel box, she was drawn up into a sort of ball posture with a hog tie as well. Chains comprised her entire bondage, but she had very little slack. Only tiny, insignificant movements were possible. Her ankles were shackled closely with only an inch between the heavy steel cuffs which locked her high-heel shod feet together. The spiked heels were her own, brought from her apartment the day she went to Ellen’s office and initiated the drama that took Ted and Max to conclude and left her bound and stuffed into the shipping crate she shared with Lynda. The six inch heels provided a cleverly designed, over the arch, leather covered metal band that locked invisibly to the steel foundation of the shoe. Unless this band was unlocked, the shoes stayed on. The narrow base of the heel was actually a sharp spike that could be unscrewed and replaced when the occasional walk might dull the otherwise nasty spike. Ingrid liked these shoes especially because when she was bound as she now was, the sharpened heels dug into her firm and rounded buttocks if she moved the wrong way.

At her knees, a single chain pinned her long and perfectly sculpted legs together. This chain had a cinch hook in the center of its length which tightened it even more than in its original wraparound form.

The hog tie/ball combination was mostly a factor of how her waist to ankle bondage was assembled. A very tight, single, medium sized chain was locked around her waist. From the front center of this steel belt, just below her navel, was a short length of chain that connected to the ankle shackles, pulling her legs up and back. Thus, her feet and legs put tension on the short chain that just happened to be running directly over her sex, despite her continued efforts to move it elsewhere. It was simply too tight and there was no slack. Besides, there were other things already imbedded in the area between her legs.

A similar set of shackles to those on her feet bound her arms at the elbow and a linking chain ran from the back of her collar to the center of the elbow shackles and then down to her shackled wrists which were actually just two cuffs with a single link between them. From there, the connecting chain went also to her bound feet, so she was essentially hogtied, but bent both at the knees and waist instead of just having her hands and feet joined behind her back.

Her 40 D breasts, which appeared to be larger because of her small rib cage, were somewhat soft and loosely attached to her chest. They were perfect for the bondage they were now experiencing. Encircled at their base with ordinary leg shackles closed down tightly, they were compressed into a small circle of painful flesh at the roots. The remaining breast tissue became a shiny flesh bag with the mammary’s mass being forced outward into a tightly filled, massive pear-shaped skin container capped with a hard, protruding nipple. The breast shackles were joined at the side by a chain which went behind her back and met the other breast, forming a sort of tit harness that was obviously painful from both its tightness and its compression of the breasts. The steel bands locked around each breast were joined in the center by two short links, completing the chest harness. From there, a short length of chain went to the front of her collar and another ran down over her belly and met the waist belting chain. Completing the harness of steel was the wide linked chain that went from the front center of her waist down, between her lower lips and buried itself in her swollen cunt, holding a rigid metal dildo deep inside. The crotch chain not only held the pussy probe, but continued through her legs and up the anal divide, pushing another steel plug into her rectum and finally joining the waist chain and her bound wrists at the small of her back.

Ingrid was hooded and suffered a long, deep leather gag in her mouth as well. This is how she had spent the last five hours and there was, as far as she could determine, no one and nothing that was going to alter her situation in the near term. Her cramped position inside the steel box allowed her to wish for the greater comfort of the other restraints she had been subjected to since she had been crated and taken from Ellen’s New York office weeks before, but in the meantime, she had learned a lot about herself and about her own BDSM fetish. She had finally concluded, probably while traveling in the crate from Ellen’s office that her primary fetish centered on tight confinement and the psychological thrill of claustrophobia. Just being bound was not enough. Being chained in a tiny box, crate, bag or other container lit up her mental lights. After this discovery, Ingrid had pressed successfully for more and more restrictive confinement. She was uncomfortable, but pleased and content with what Ellen had done to her. She even more enjoyed the respite that came unexpectedly when she was taken from her containment, freed from the terrible positions she had endured only to have her arms pulled up to a hanging chain or post and tied or chained with her closely bound feet barely touching the floor or ground. Usually, instead of a pair of ankle cuffs or shackles, her ankles were joined by a single, hinged, wide steel band that pressed her feet together and was connected to a ring at the bottom of the post or on the floor. A similar metal band was fitted just above her knees.

The leather gag in her mouth was replaced with a split wooden oval form that was slowly forced, with considerable effort, to fit perfectly, between her jaws, filling the inside of her mouth. The two halves of the oval form could then be spread apart and this particular form of gag pear was extremely effective at keeping the wearer both silent and unhappy. It was permanently and immovably fixed to the whipping post with a short steel shaft and had the remarkably efficient effect of keeping the victim closely attached by the mouth to the post. Even with her hands and feet free, Ingrid would not have been able to remove the gag oval without the key that allowed the pear to contract back into its original size.

In most cases when she was placed here at the punishment stand, her position was the same. Wrists tied to a permanent steel ring at the top of the post, arms extended high over her head and clamped with flat metal bands to the sides of the tall, wooden post, Ingrid stood on her toes, her spiked heels raised slightly off the floor. The gagform in her mouth required her to keep her head in a fixed position even when the whipping began and this presented a rather unusual erotic performance from her as the lashes fell upon her shoulders, back, ass and legs. Ingrid came to love the pain and the rigidity of this beating position and no matter how many lashes she endured or how many blows were delivered with the cane or cat, she had to stand and endure it because there was no movement possible other than to swing her stinging hips in a rather lewd manner and bite down on the wooden egg.

Over and over again, for the duration of her captivity at the camp, Ingrid sought and endured this rough combination of close bondage in the box and stretched flogging on the post. These were punishments she had imagined and confided initially to Ellen and she experienced better and greater orgasms each time they were applied. For variety one night, Frank led her blindfolded out of the house and to the nearby woodshed, bound her with rope to one of the posts inside and flogged her mercilessly with a long, thin buggy whip, her mouth impaled on the same kind of wooden, egg-shaped gagform. The thrill of being out of the house and in the cold and dirty shed further enhanced her excitement. She found herself begging incoherently for more and harder strokes from the cutting whip until she spasmed and shook, thrashing in her bonds. She remained there for several hours that night, stretched on the post, sucking on the soaking egg, totally absorbed in the debasement and pain. From the time of her initial capture, when she fought and struggled while Ted, Ellen and Max stuffed her into the special crate in the New York office, Ingrid had known that this was what she had always wanted. She also knew that she could never get enough of it.