Couple Therapy 3 | free bondage story

Our guests where to arrive that evening and we hurried to get things set up. Lisa had known that she was to be a special guest for tonight’s festivities, though she was unsure of how she would participate. Very quickly it became evident. The main dungeon space had been cleared, many chairs set up around the center of the room. Lisa was led into the middle. Angela untied her elbows then reattached two wrist cuffs that connected with a small ball joint. Her collar was replaced with a much heavier model and a cable from the ceiling was lowered behind her. As the cable was fed through a ring at the back of Lisa’s collar and connected to her wrists, Taylor was ordered to attach a chain to Lisa’s ballet boots and secure them to the floor. Soon, Angela was turning a crank and pulling the cable up, forcing her wrists to climb up her back. Lisa began crying in pain as her arms where inverted behind her, but Angela had made particular preparations to make sure she was flexible enough for this. As the crank turned, her wrists rose, until the last few clicks brought her wrists level with the back of the collar. A lock was placed through the collar ring and connected to the ball socket on the cuffs, locking Lisa’s arms off. I could see the twinkle in my wife’s eyes as she produced an additional strap, just as Lisa was coming to terms with the pain in her arms. The strap circled Lisa’s elbows and was pulled tight, forcing her lower arms closer together and wrenching her shoulders impossibly back.

Pulling the ball gag from her mouth, I unhooked her nose ring and fit a smaller ring through her septum grommet. Welded to the ring was a short rod that I fed into her mouth and through the grommet an inch from the tip of her tongue. Attaching a plate to the other end, under her tongue, I fit a small wrench onto it, and began to turn. The plate had a threaded attachment that extended up, forcing Lisa’s mouth open wider, using her nose as leverage. As her mouth reached its limit, I was sure the pain in her nose and jaw was excruciating. With another few cranks, I pulled out the key. Her mouth was now held open impossibly wide, while the rod captured her tongue. Luckily we made the grommet through her septum large. I fit another ring through it, then lowered a chain from the ceiling and attached it to the new ring, removing enough slack so it could support her without saving her from standing on her toes. Taylor unlocked the chains holding her ankles down and we backed away to admire our new slave in the light. It was a remarkable sight to behold. Lisa’s body had grown firm in training as we tasked her day and night. Her breasts stood proudly away from her chest as her tortured shoulders forced them out, the dual nipple rings gleaming in the light. She had separated her legs enough to gain balance and the result was a statuesque body with her ass poking out and her chin raised to the ceiling from the tug on the nose ring. If she weren’t crying slightly, she would look almost proud. From the front it looked like she had no arms. Angela had bound them so far back they disappeared behind Lisa’s shoulders.

We left her like this for the time being as we prepared for the party. After 2 hours, when the doorbell chimed in announcement of our first guest, Lisa had begun to whimper slightly from both her arm bondage and the pain in her toes. We ignored her, of course, and went to welcome our guests.

Mistress Madeline was first to arrive. We had the particular pleasure of an underground entrance and valet parking during events like this. So rather than having to hide anything, our guest would often arrive in full form, tugging a young slave behind them. This was no exception. Madeline was fond of animal training, often keeping her slave girls in a cat or dog outfit for as much as a year. She too had become proficient at kidnapping and had brought along two of her victims.

It was difficult to tell who they where. Covered in an impossibly tight rubber body suit, their arms had been doubled up, their wrists locked to shoulders, removing any use of the hands. The suits legs where designed short, so that only a bent arm could fit into it. Wide rubber straps clamped the arms together so they became a seamless limb. Each finger had been fed into a special glove that, when tightened, pulled each finger into a tight ball, removing any ability to flex. Then, the hand had been twisted to fit into the slave’s armpit, thus removing any visible evidence that this was not an animal’s limb. The suit had built in paws that helped create a brilliant illusion of a cat’s feet. Legs where similarly bound, though the length of the lower leg versus the thigh required some modification. The legs where doubled then forced into a single sleeve, but an added modification where wide straps at the end of the toes. The other end of the straps connected to the lower back, yanking the feet into an en pointe position, much like the ballet boots. An additional strap yanked the feet tightly together just around the slave’s ass, then were fitted with a rubber pouch with a length of stranded rubber sticking form it. The illusion was perfect. With the little motion the girls could move their bound feet, they could simulate the swishing of a cats tail. The custom suits fit like skin and had been bonded to their bodies at their asshole and pussy. It was interesting to examine how well the suits had been applied. The rubber was cut to the body so that a long tube fit into the anal canal, creating the illusion of an entire rubber person, while holding each hole wide. The appearance was a totally exposed sex doll, shaped into a cat. The final touch was the harsh hoods that fit snuggly to both girl’s heads. Tiny lenses allowed the slave’s to see, though the image was considerably distorted. Madeline told us it was much like a bug, upside-down and broken into numerous small images. Thin tubes seemed to disappear where the nose would be and the mouth, though harshly gagged with an inflatable rubber ball, seemed to have a feeding gasket fit into its core. Madeline was happy to share the fact that both girls had been hooded for over 6 months now, with only the ability to breath their own. Even the feeding tubes connected to force feeding devices once a day, with the opposite ends buried deep into the slaves’ stomachs.

It was strange to watch these two slaves make their way in. I knew that both had been in training for at least nine months, giving them plenty of time to learn their roles, but it was uncanny how believable they where. If it weren’t for the visible feet being pulled back and the sizable breasts both slaves had dangling beneath them, you would swear you were looking at a large cat.

Other, equally bizarre guests began to arrive, and Angela and I had trouble greeting them all. The usual group was assembling, with a few extras brought along in confidence by trusted members of the club. Doctor Mansa arrived in a flourish, towing his latest prize behind him. If only the A.M.A. knew, he would be burned at the stake. The last time we had seen Justine, she had been a demure 18 year old girl, innocent, young and freckled, just being introduced to the world of bondage and slavery by this wealthy and handsome doctor. She had agreed to let him try a few things on her, and now, after a year of experimentation, I was sure she was regretting it. His first experiment was in hormonal breast enlargement. Justine had been a petite girl, only 5’6” and 118 lbs., with 34B breasts. For the first 3 months of her “adjustments”, Mansa had locked her in a tiny steel box, forcing her to stand upright in ballet boots, with her arms bound severely behind her and large dildos on poles supporting her by way of her ass and pussy. A wide, steel posture collar kept her head immobile and a thick, leather hood blocked out all sight and sound. He had told us he actually tricked her into the box, telling her it was just a short test. His sadism shocked even us at times. For 3 months, Justine stood immobile, screaming in sheer terror into her gag, being fed through feeding tubes and her breathing fully controlled by a machine, while he fed her hormones to enhance her breast size. Upon release, her chest had grown to an amazing 40D, so large that the weight made it difficult to walk upright.

But the doctor wasn’t through. In an effort to reduce her waist, he removed two ribs from her, then fit her with a ratcheting steel corset that pulled her waist into a remarkable 16 inches. The months in ballet boots made it impossible to stand flatfooted any longer, so Mansa shortened Justine’s Achilles tendon permanently, removed her toe nails and fitted her feet with permanent steel ballet slippers. Designed to force the feet into a harsh point, the metal band at the bottom of the foot, extended from the toes to a wide ankle cuff that fit perfectly, then was welded onto Justine. The result was her inability to unflex her foot. And without the aid of any heel, she was forced to learn to walk on her steel covered toes.

Despite her protests, the doctor realized there was no turning back. Justine was already frantic from the major modifications her lover had performed on her. She was beginning to realize she would never return to the demure young girl she had been. Mansa had no intention of stopping, and despite her protests, had continued with his plan.

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Now, watching him lead his slave in, I wondered if he could think of anything else to do to her. Her long, lean frame was extended even further by her now permanent ballet stance. Mansa had added a short four inches of chain, welded between her ankle cuffs, to prevent any large strides, as if that were possible. Her waist was impossibly tiny, and now permanently tightened by the steel corset she wore. He had told me how the corset was built with steel tension bands, thus exerting a continual pressure on her waist despite the fact that the corset was now welded onto her waist. The corset could actually close, due to the bands, to a 4 inch waist. Though her body would never conform to that shape, Justine would forever feel the constant and painful pressure against her waist. Her huge breasts were beautiful, especially with the added banding he had put on them. Two inch wide steel bands with sharp metal spikes on the inside had been forced around the base of Justine’s breasts, then riveted shut. The result was to turn her tits a constant shade of red. Not too much to be a danger, but enough to increase sensitivity and provide a unique color to her massive tits. Her arms had been forced into a similar position as Lisa’s, but I could tell Justine’s had been mounted in position permanently. I once asked him why he didn’t just surgically remove her arms. Mansa noted with a smile that he preferred that she know she still had arms, but would never use them again.

Other more traditional guests began to arrive, and I made sure they all had a chance to examine Lisa. With the extreme nature of our friends, even their comments as they argued over her possible modifications caused new tears to flow down her cheeks. But soon everybody had been seated, and served drinks by Taylor. I watches as Angela took a deep breath and marched out in front, smiling at her friends.

“Thank you so much for coming tonight,” she smiled again, then moved to walk around Lisa. “As you can see, we have a new slave with us tonight. As you know, we like to play games at our little gatherings, and this night is no exception. As you enjoy your drinks, a small box will be handed around. Each person is to fill out on a small piece of paper, a particular torture or modification that we can perform on Lisa. Then, we will draw five of these from the hat and actually do them. Remember, it has to be something we can do this evening, and my only requirement is that we don’t remove any limbs!” Angela laughed with the others, but she could see Dr. Mansa almost frown in disappointment.

“So, take a few moments to come up with your worst and we’ll start shortly!” Angela smiled again and turned back to Lisa, fitting her finger through Lisa’s right nipple ring. “You think you’ve felt pain up ‘till now. Wait until tonight.” With a twist that brought a wail from Lisa, Angela moved away, hoping that her sadistic friends would do her proud.