Bound In Leather 7 - bondage story

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Then I went inside to fix things up a bit. A couple of times I poked my head out to ask if she was quite comfortable. As she didn't answer, I assumed she was. In about half an hour, I had a fire going in the big fireplace, as it gets cold late at night in my neck of the woods-and a big couch drawn up in front of it. I had a table with some drinks for me and so on. I had even let the big wagon-wheel, which hangs in the middle of the ceiling with light-fixtures on it, down and dusted it thoroughly. After all, you want things to be neat for your guests. Then I went out to the car and brought in the brief-case of bondage material. After everything else was ready, I went out and released Nicki. Of course, I did it bit by bit, as she seemed to be pretty badly cramped for some reason. I even took off the cord that held the bar-bit so far back in her mouth. But I knew I was safe, because the chin part of her mask kept her from opening her mouth wide enough to get the ball out. As a final touch I took the tape off the eyeholes of the mask. Bringing her into the living room, I told her she could take off the long-grey rubber dress and lie down on the couch and rest for half an hour. Gratefully, she did so. spent the time in a little sort of workshop I have down in the cellar. I took a piece of quarter-inch iron rod and bent it into a ring two inches across, being careful to smooth the ends where they came together. Then I went upstairs again. She had probably been asleep, but as soon as she heard me enter the room she sat up and folded her arms behind her back. I told her she could go into the other room, loosen her helmet enough to get the ball and padding out of her mouth. Then she could take a drink and return. In a few minutes she was back with her mask once more in place and her arms behind her back.

"Well?" she asked, posing just inside the door

"Why do you hold your arms like that?" I asked.

"To show you that even when they're not bound, they're ready to be."

"I get it. A very nice idea," I commented.

"Now come over here and let me tie your arms."

"Oh good," she cried, "It's much more fun when I'm helpless."

Quickly I tied her arms so they were high behind her back, in the same position they were while she was in the trunk.

"That feels wonderful. I don't know of any position that makes a girl feel more helpless-or more willing to be helpless," she breathed,

as I drew the cords as tight as I could.

"Now come over here on the couch," I instructed.

As she did so, I made her kneel on the seat with her legs doubled under her and strapped them in that position.

"Aren't you going to gag me?" she pouted.

"In a way," I answered.

"Do you know what this is?" I showed her the ring. She shook her head.

"Well, let's try it," Nicki smiled.

I took off the wig, loosened the lace of the mask again and made her open her mouth wide. Then I slipped the ring into her mouth side-ways, then stood it up and pulled it forward, so that it was wedged between her teeth, with her jaws stretched wide. Then the helmet was tightened and the wig went back. Later, I plugged her mouth tightly by packing cotton in through the ring. She couldn't get it out again and was once more delightfully silent. I let the wagon wheel down and bound her to it by the wrists and ankles. Then I pulled it up so it hung about a foot above the couch. Then I sat down on the couch, near my silent subject as she hung, swaying slightly on the chandelier.

I poured myself a drink and gestured towards her as I said,

"To the loveliest creature I've ever seen. May your waist measure ever grow less and your heels higher."

Her only answer was a faint creak of leather as she tried, perhaps unconsciously, to ease her strained position.

During the next few minutes I enjoyed the warmth of the fire, the flavour of my drink, and, after I had given the wheel a turn, the sight of my companion revolving slowly first one way, then the other, l like the circular pendulum of a four hundred day clock. I noticed that as she swung to and fro, her eyes, or as much of them as I could see through the narrow slits of her leather mask, seemed to fix themselves on my drink. That reminded me that she must have been gagged in one way or another, for a good many thirst-making hours, so I asked, "Thirsty?" In spite of the tight cord around her throat, she managed a faint and, it seemed, eager, nod.

So I got another glass, mixed a good stiff drink and then held it against the cotton packed in her mouth, tilting it slowly as the liquid soaked into the absorbent material.

"All right," I said, "try swallowing some of that."

I could see the muscles of her jaw and throat working, then she shook her head.

"What's the matter? Not getting any?"

Another head shake.

"Why, cord around your throat to tight to let you swallow?" A nod. "Well, I guess we'll have to change things around a little,"

I remarked, getting up and beginning by letting the wheel down so that she rested on the couch again. Then, I began untying her as I continued,

"Of course, it's the rope from your wrists that runs up around your neck that causes the trouble. We'l1 have to take it off. It's a pity, though, because your arms are in such a fine position." She nodded. Then I had an idea. "I got it!" I cried.

"First, we'll put your grey rubber gown and strap gloves back on again. Then, we can force your arms into an even better position than they're in now."

It took a few minutes. Before long, she was once more in the floor length skirt and full-length gloves. Then, I bent her arms up behind her, so her hands, palm to palm, were between her shoulder blades. Next, I passed the straps over her shoulders, crossed them in front just below her neck, brought them around, crossed them in back again outside her arms and finally buckled them at her waist in front. Her arms were now held in a high double hammerlock, with her elbows only about six inches apart in the small of her back, the strained position making her pull her shoulders back, arch her spine and thrust her bosom forward delightfully.

"Now," I smiled, "let's put the legs on view, too." "Okay, come and get your drink," I said, seating myself on the couch once more.

Proud as a peacock, Nicki minced over, a study in helpless arrogance and perched on my knee. I held the glass to her gaping lips. Little by little, because swallowing with her mouth so tightly stretched was still difficult, she drained the glass.

Suddenly we both froze. A car had driven up outside and stopped. Nicki jumped to her feet and I instinctively followed, as we heard footsteps outside; first on the walk, then up the steps and finally across the cabin porch. There were two sets of steps; the slow, heavy; pace of a man and the quick, light tapping of a woman's high heels. Then two figures appeared in the doorway, a woman in a long cloak in front and a tall, grey-haired man of about fifty just behind. For a moment we all stared at each other. The man, I had never seen before. The woman, at first, I thought was Vicki. Then I decided she wasn't, because her hair was a deep red and wore it dressed in a long, flowing, pageboy effect. Besides, though the eyes looked like hers, the lower part of her face was quite different being very long from nose to chin, with oddly high cheekbones and hollow cheeks. I could tell nothing about the rest of her because of the concealing cloak.

In a second, the man stepped forward, smiled, and offered his hand.

"You're Ted Walk, aren't you?"

"Why, uh, yes, I am," I foundered.

"Thought you must be. Had enough trouble to find you. I'm Dick Roberts. Husband of Vicki, here, and father of that leather and rubber-covered bondage lover over there,"

and he nodded to Nicki, who pertly curtsied an acknowledgement.

"But she doesn't look like Vicki!" I protested, nodding toward the red-haired vision that stood stiffly in the doorway.

"Well, a red wig, a horse-face gag and a thin rubber mask can change a face completely. Here, take a look," he answered, stepping over to her.

In a second he pulled off the wig, unzipped the back of the mask, which covered her whole head and peeled it off.

I recognised Vicki immediately, chiefly by her curling black hair, now once more revealed, and her wide green eyes stretched wide open in the typical "Gag Look"-and well they might be. Her mouth was obviously stretched wide open and packed very tightly I couldn't see what was used for packing, since the lower part of her face was completely covered with strips of adhesive tape. It was the pressure of this tape, which had given the mask the hollow cheeks and high cheekbones.

"I can see why you call it a `horse-face' gag," I remarked, as he prepared to remove her cloak,

"The great length from nose to chin gives her a very horse-jawed look. Must be very uncomfortable to wear, though."

"Oh I don't know," he grinned. "I don't hear any complaints."

At this point the cloak came off from high neck to waist, Vicki wore a skin fitting, white lace blouse, through which her dark corset and brassiere showed very interestingly.

From her tiny wasp waist, encircled by a wide patent leather belt just to the tops of her thigh high boots she wore a skirt of black silk fringe, which played peek-a-boo at every slight movement.

For some reason, I felt impelled to say,

"Well, it looks like we're all here but Fifi. Why didn't you bring her?"

"Oh, but I did " he answered surprisingly. "She's down in the car. Good as gold and quiet as a mouse. Why don't you look?"

You can understand I didn't need a further invitation. I was out of the door and going down the steps in a second. I heard the tap of high heels behind me, but was too intent to turn and see which girl it was. I found a large and opulent imported limousine parked next to my rather humble domestic product. I looked in both the front and back seat, but saw no one.

I was wondering whether Dick was having some sort of joke at my expense when I felt somebody nudge me. I looked around to see Nicki. Signalling with her masked head for me to follow she led me to the back of the car, pointing with a pretty high heeled foot toward the trunk compartment. It took me a moment to figure out the catch, then I swung the lid open. Inside, hunched over in a curious manner, I saw the short-skirted, mesh-stockinged form of the French maid. I spoke to her and then invited her to get out, but the only answer I got was a strange squirming motion. Obviously, she was secured in some manner. In the faint fight from the open cabin door, it took me a while to figure it out. There was a steel bar, about three feet long. At the lower end was a pair of ankle cuffs which were clamped tightly around her slim ankles.

Higher up, another pair encircled her knees; a third pair held her wrists tightly against the bar. At the upper end, a steel hoop went around her head in such a manner that a large hard rubber ball, which was fastened to the end of the rod, was forced deep into her mouth, acting as a very powerful egg. As a final touch, her elbows were strapped tightly to her tiny waist. Each of the clamps was held closed by a wing nut. Thus, though the luckless wearer of the device could not remove it, anybody else could. I soon had her free of the device, but poor Fifi was so cramped that it was several minutes before she could move freely or mumble creakily,

"Thank you, M'sieur Ted."

I was wondering whether to try to lift her out and carry her up to the cabin or what, when Dick leaned over the rail and called down to me.

"Leave her there, Ted. She'll come up as soon as she gets the kinks out."

Nicki was standing close beside me, so, with my arms around her rigid waist I went back up the steps and into the living room.

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