GC-01  Gord Collection
Gord


Author's Note
For those of you who have never encountered the zany work of Gord, these short stories
may appear to be the ravings of a homicidal misogynist, who’s sole aim in life is to
torture and degrade women.
Whilst one could be excused for arriving at such a conclusion, one would be entirely
wrong. I adore women! No! I worship women. They are the sole reason why I bother
to exist on this otherwise miserable planet of hypocrisy and double standards. To me,
women are the elixir of life, and in my case, are required to do no more than just be there
for me to admire.
It is a certain fact that I would willingly give my life to protect one of these creatures
from the unwelcome attentions of a male assailant, and in fact, I would never be able
to carry out such misdeeds as are chronicled in stories like Doll-Dames, or Maxine. I
might be easily coerced into participating in something like Witchfinder, but alas, as
with all these works, time travel is still a fantasy. More's the pity. I would enjoy
wandering the trails of time rescuing damsels in distress and taking my rewards.
Julia is probably the closest I will ever get to a true life situation. Ihave my own special
Julia, albeit not as flexible as the incredible, spinning feline creature in the story. But she
has been close in days gone by.
Rebecca is another story close to my heart, and was in fact written whilst lying in
hospital, surrounded by nubile apron starched raw material in the form of nurses. It
may interest you to know that Rebecca is the only commissioned story of them all. I was
asked to write a bondage story for the disabled by a lady who had lost her legs in a car
wreck. Needless to say, I accept her informed opinion as the only valued comment on
this strange tale. She liked it immensely. And I enjoyed writing it!
By now you must be thinking that I am a complete paradox of conflicting thoughts and
emotions. Ain’t that the truth!
Of all these stories, I choose ]ulia' Birthday to dedicate to the fun loving ladies of the
world. It was the first bondage story I ever wrote, and it came straight from the heart.
At the outset, I had no plot in mind, and only the barest of ideas on what I wanted to
describe. Pen hit paper, and what followed was a spontaneous outpouring of ideas,
including my own humble effort at trying to describe the female orgasm - as related by
women who have tried to pass over concepts and levels of pleasure that are truly
staggering for the male mind to even try and conceive. My wife read this story and has
rated the description at around ten percent of what it is really like!
If there is such a thing as reincarnation, let me return as a woman!
Read on, dear friends, for the world of fantasy knows no boundaries, and no one gets
hurt in an entertainment of the mind!
Gord
August, 1996


Doll-Dames

Three weeks had passed since Fiona took the job of secretary with
Hersch Brothers, and in all that time she was still no wiser as to the
finished product produced in the small factory adjoining her office
block. Her repeated questions about the matter had been brushed off
with comments like, ‘Experimental’ or ‘Very hush-hush’ or similar
statements; all leading her to believe that perhaps they were contracted
to some clandestine government operation. Whatever it was, it certainly entailed the use of some sort of rubber - of this she was certain,
her assumption based on the strong, pungent odour of raw latex that
could often be detected on her boss’ clothes whenever. he appeared.
Another fact she was sure of was that whatever it was that they did, it
paid well. Very well! The small delivery van left only once a week with
the production quota, and yet the cheques always rolled in within a few
days for amounts of generally more than £50,000 per unit; each unit
always being designated by the invoice prefix of RFT/ and then a
number.
It was during the fourth week while Fiona was working late one
evening to catch up, when her attention was drawn to the window
overlooking the small loading bay, by a shout in the yard. Looking
down, she watched with interest as the van which had been about to
leave reversed back to the dock and prepared to take on a late addition
to its load.
Fiona realised that she didn't have time to waste watching the loading,
but nevertheless was intrigued. The sudden departure of her office
colleague, Cindy, had left her lumbered with a mountain of work. ']ust
like that haughty little bitch to walk out without even giving a notice,’
she thought. Her attention was drawn back to the loading bay as two
men appeared at the factory doors. The van driver had opened the
doors of his vehicle, so they disappeared from sight for a few seconds,
but then reappeared carrying the new addition to the load.
Fiona strained her eyes to make out the nature of their burden, but
could only see a long, black torpedo shape about six feet in length and
some eighteen inches in diameter. Although she couldn't be certain at
this range, the object appeared to be made of some sort of rubber. The
van driver approached the two workers and his words carried up to
Fiona’s window as she watched.
“You'll have to give me a hand to shift the load, lads,” he was saying.
”I’ll never get this consignment in with the others stacked as they are."
The two men dropped their load none to carefully on the dock and
disappeared into the van’s interior, closely followed by the driver. The
load had bounced slightly as it was dropped, confirming her surmise
that it was made of rubber. ‘What did you expect,’ she chided herself.
The factory stank of rubber! Fiona started to turn away for there was
nothing more to gain by continuing to watch — but as she turned, a faint
movement on the dock caught her eye. ’That’s odd,’ she thought. The
men were still inside the van and the only thing on the dock was the
sausage-shaped rubber consignment. She stared long and hard at the
silent rubber object but could detect no movement at all from it.
Shaking her head, she concluded that it must have been a trick of the
light.
She could have sworn that she saw that sausage bend slightly in the
middle. With a shrug, she returned to her Work and was soon engrossed in preparing accounts.
The work progressed, but try as she might, Fiona simply couldn’t rid
herself of the fleeting image of the imagined, quivering sausage. In fact,
the more she tried to push it from her mind, the more her conviction
grew that she hadn't been mistaken. Her mind worked overtime on the
possibilities of what could be packaged within those rubber containers
that could produce such a movement. The list was endless, and there
was no way she could ever put her insatiable curiosity to rest unless she
actually managed to see what they made down there.
The offices were dark and deserted save for herself and Fiona knew that
this was probably the only chance she would ever get to sneak down to
the factory unnoticed and return with no one being any the wiser. Her
mind was made up - she just had to know.
Slipping off her high heeled shoes, Fiona tiptoed out into the corridor
in stockinged feet, carefully checking each office as she passed them by
for other late workers. There were none! Soon she had safely negotiated
the staircase and was at the inner door leading to the factory floor. A
large notice blared a warning from its inner face.
NO ENTRY T0 UNAUTIIORISED PERSONNEL!
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Fiona hesitated as she read this, but already knew that it would be
insufficient to quell her aroused curiosity. She eased open the door and
carefully peered inside. Rows and rows of neatly stacked pallets stared
back at her, all emblazoned with the legend ‘Raw Latex’.
Of the staff, there was no sign. The sounds she could hear indicated that
this was only a storage area and that the working area was beyond these
stacks of stores. Silently, she crept forward through the canyons
between the pallets, the stench of raw rubber now strong and pungent
as she approached the bright lights and sounds of activity. The last row
lay before her as she flattened herself into the shadows before sliding
carefully forward to a position where she could see.
At first, her only view was of men's backs as they worked on something
hanging from an overhead track. Then, as they moved back, Fiona saw
for the first time the unique product of Hersch Brothers.
Her mouth sagged open as she looked upon a life-sized rubber doll
hanging from the track. It was perfect in every detail, and yet totally
made from shining black latex. Every tiny feature one would expect of
a real person was present in the glistening surface of that doll. Even the
creases around the eyes were faithfully reproduced. Fiona was at a loss
to understand. What on earth were they making? Blow-up Sex Dolls?
This was her first thought because the effigy hanging before her was
very definitely female. Her second thought was that maybe it was some
form of highly advanced robot, or android, made popular by sci~fi
films. After all, she had been led to believe it was all very hush-hush!
Uncertain, she waited for further developments that could maybe give
her a clue as to what it was. The denouement, when it came, was a
shock!
The men moved closer and began to work on the feet of the effigy and,
in amazement, Fiona saw the rubber eyelids open wide, revealing a
pair of frantic, human eyes.
Stunned, Fiona struggled with her conclusions - seemingly impossible
conclusions that wouldn’t bear thinking about. As she wrestled with
these thoughts, she continued to study the eyes. Eyes that seemed
disturbingly familiar!
Cindy! My God! They were Cindy's eyes!
It was her vanished colleague - encased in rubber!
Struck dumb by this realisation, Fiona stood petrified while she watched
Cindy's eyes lock onto her partially concealed figure. Cindy’s eyes
opened wider, and muffled pleas for help seeped around the huge
bath-plug stopper filling her mouth. Fiona jerked her body back into
concealment as the men turned to locate the source of their captive's
surprise, but Fiona was already out of sight. She heaved an inward sigh
of relief as the men turned back to their task. Her curiosity ruthlessly
sated, she began to the long shuffle back whence she came and the
safety of the open air.
A very relieved Fiona reached the door, but her relief would have been
short lived had she looked up to see the figure of Mr Hersch on the
workshop office cat-walk above her head. She would have been even
more distressed had she known that he had been watching her ever
since she'd first entered the warehouse.
Scurrying back to the office, Fiona quickly donned her shoes and
snatched her bag from the desk before heading for home. With a start,
her eyes met the bulk of Mr Hersch blocking the doorway, a slight smile
on his face as he closed the door behind him.
“Finished everything, have we?” His manner seemed pleasant enough,
but there was a hint of menace in the tone. Somehow, Fiona got the
impression he couldn"t give a damn whether she's finished or not.
Calming her impulse rush past him, Fiona brazened it out - knowing
that he could easily stop her if she tried. No! It was keep your cool time,
and talk your way out of this one.
“ Oh! Well no, actually," she finally managed to stutter out. "My mother
rang and she needs me urgently at home, I'll... err... finish everything
tomorrow,” she added as an afterthought.
Hersch seemed satisfied, nodding his head in understanding, then
pointing to his office he spoke again.
“Could you just spare me two minutes then, before you rush off,” he
asked, guiding her inside. “I've got something to tell you that simply
can’t wait.”
His overweight bulk sank into the plush chair behind the walnut
covered top of his executive desk. He motioned for Fiona to take a seat
in the chair beside the desk as he reclined. Fiona moved over and sat
down, eager not to arouse his suspicions before she could make a rapid
exit and inform the authorities of the factory's activities. She never took
her eyes from his face, and as a result was totally unaware of the hand
that slid to a button beneath the desk.
A sharp pin prick jabbed at her buttocks and jumping up she was just
in time to see a thin hypodermic needle slide back into the upholstery
of her seat. She looked at Hersch for an explanation and was terrified
to see a wide, triumphant grin on his face.
“I suggest you sit down again - whilst you still can, Miss Ford. That
needle contained a measured dose of curare and you've got about one
minute of movement left!”
Panic exploded into Fiona"s brain as she realised that she had been
rumbled and she ran for the door. Hersch made no move to follow. Het
sat watching with the same infuriating smile still on his face.
She had barely taken three steps before her limbs turned to lead. The
hand-bag dropped from her grasp as she struggled to take a further
step, but the curare matched her effort. With very little grace, she
slumped to the floor in a heap, and watched horrified as Hersch stood
up and moved over towards her. Movement was impossible. Every
fibre of her being willed life into her limbs but they simply refused to
move. She was totally paralysed and yet still fully conscious. Completely immobilised, Fiona watched in helpless fury as more men
appeared, and with practised ease lifted her limp form to their shoulders.
Once in the factory, Fiona lay still on the bench as her clothes were
stripped. She was unable to resist in any way as the men explored her
nudity with probing fingers, laughing at the defeated stare in her eyes
as she unwillingly offered her charms for inspection. Fearfully, she
watched as a white-coated figure approached, layed down a surgical
tool kit, and removed a syringe from its depths. He prised her mouth
open.
She could do nothing as he systematically anaesthetised the whole of
her gum area. After waiting for the drug to take effect, proceeded to
remove every one of her beautifully shaped teeth. What had he done to
her? She knew that teeth were harder to pull than that! She had plenty
of time to reflect!
For two days she was kept paralysed and flat on the bench - each day
suffering more inspections as the dentist came to check that her gums
were healing. He never missed an opportunity to avail himself of her
helpless charms, and Fiona lay unmoving as his fingers routed in and
around her love channel. Apart from that, she was ignored save for the
twice daily ordeal to force water and a liquid food into her; a rather
unpleasant procedure requiring the insertion of a tube reaching down
into her stomach. As a further humiliation, she invariably ended up
lying in her own waste products, only to be hosed off by the crew.


Day three arrived, and with it the dentist's announcement that she was
fit to continue. He was returning her to the waiting work-force for
whatever fate was in store.
Fiona’s last hopes for freedom dwindled. The drug was finally wearing
off, although she still couldn't move, but at least a slight tingling in her
fingers and toes heralded the return of bodily control. Already, she
knew it was too late - she would be completely under control long
before the means to struggle was at her disposal.
A tube was forced into her mouth and her lips sealed to its outer surface
by some sort of glue. Thin, rubberised flattened tubes were added to
her lips and opaque contact lenses covering each of her eyeballs
blinded her to further additions, which later she was to discover were
minute capillary tubes running down to her feet. Another imposition
teased her pussy, and appeared to have the function of holding the
inner three inches of her sex tube open and inviting. More of the thin,
rubberised tubes formed a second set of lips between her legs as they
were added to either side of her mons. With horror, she felt the buzz of
a ruthless depilator as her pubis and head were denuded of all hair
leaving her totally nude and smooth as a polished billiard ball. It
seemed she was to be permanently devoid of all bodily hair. The device
didn't cut, it plucked, and suffering extreme torment, Fiona endured as
her tender pubics were removed by the root and her scalp set ablaze
with the searing sensation of having her long tresses torn out hair by
hair.
The next sensation she was to feel was as some sort of winch lifted her
paralysed form by the thumbs, suspending her over a vat of evil
smelling rubber compound — her earlier reconnaissance mission and
the sight of the hanging Cindy was sufficient to fill in any gaps in her
forthcoming itinerary.
Silent screams formed in her paralysed throat as the winch began her
downward plunge, but her noiseless pleas were in vain. Soon the
pleasantly warm, cool-mix latex compound was creeping inexorably
up her legs, over her thighs and, horror of horrors, flowing into her
opened tunnel of love. The cloying liquid continued its relentless
advance, marching over her ample breasts and flowing up over her
shoulders towards her neck. Within seconds, the dim light filtering
through the protective contact lenses changed to an impenetrable
blackness as her head was fully immersed.
As the tips of her thumbs sensed the liquid closing over their ends,
Fiona felt the winch stop as was left in a silent world of total blackness.
At a guess, she was left for some ten minutes or more - her only
connection to the outside world being the thin tube supplying life»
giving air to her lungs. A jerk on her aching thumbs, and she felt herself
rising from the ooze, eventually to hang fully extracted from the
clutches of that devilish brew.
The air drying Latex took scant minutes to cure as the ammonia base
evaporated in the warmth of the factory. And as it dried, Fiona felt
hands on her lips, pubis, and eyelids. The sealing layer was parted with
special tools before the final curing took place. Her protective contact
lenses were prised out, but with drooping, paralysed eyelids, her
vision was still restricted to the merest glimmer.
The feeling was returning to her limbs and the first signs were flickering movements in her eyelids. Within minutes, she was able to fully
open her eyes of her own accord, peering through the narrow slit she
had been burdened with for so long. The heavier components of her
body still remained obstinately inert.
Unable to resist, she hung quietly as the tube was removed from her
mouth and the Latex coating trimmed to a final smooth finish around
her coated lips. Similar operations took place below as her neat,
denuded pubis was trimmed and the dark secret orifice of her anus was
reopened for use of one sort or another. By the time this was completed,
the first twitches of movement were noticed by the working team as
Fiona’s limbs awakened from their long inactivity.
"Time for banding, ” suggested the foreman, who then watched as a box
filled with thick, heavy bands of the same black rubber was carried
over.
Fiona stared down at the bands as they were lifted out. None of them
appeared to be more than four or five inches in diameter and were
obviously too small to fit around any part of her anatomy. She was
mistaken! After lowering her down and removing the thumb suspension she was forced to watch with dawning horror as four burly
workers managed to stretch a band to twice its size.
Other helpers rolled her over as they dusted her entire rubberised form,
coating her completely with some sort of powder; apparently to
prevent the partly cured rubber sticking to itself. They gave a final
check all over before pulling her arms together behind her back and
allowing the stretched band to snap shut around her mated wrists. Two
more bands soon encircled her elbows and upper arms, crushing them
together in a single sculpture of rubberised limb. Her legs played host
to a further five of the crushing bands of merciless neoprene, so that she
was now welded into a single column of rubberised female. Strength
was rapidly returning to here limbs now, and she struggled valiantly
as a heavy, stiff collar of the same material provided the lifting point
that now hauled her helpless figure into the same position on the
overhead rail that she had seen Cindy occupy only days before.
Fortunately, the device had side extensions that snugged up both sides
of her head. Otherwise her entire body weight would have resulted in
slow strangulation. As it was, the upward tension clamped the side
bars tightly to her head and spread the load most effectively. Tea break
seemed to have arrived and the workers left her to swing for half an
hour, returning with Hersch himself in the group. He walked around
her encapsulated form, inspecting the finished product before stopping in front of her.
”Well, Miss Ford. Now you know what we make. Rubber dolls for rich
clients!” He was wearing the same self-satisfied smirk. The foreman
appeared with a clip board.
"What does this one stand us at?”
The foreman studied the board, mentally totting up some figures
before answering.
“I reckon she should retail at about £62,000,” he answered, after some
deliberation.
”That much?” queried Hersch, his eyebrows shooting up.
”Yeh! Well, we had problems finding a mortuary with the right body
for her disappearing act.” Hersch turned back to the anxious Fiona.
"As you may of guessed by that, my dear, no one is looking for you.
Your charred body was pulled from your car Wreck the night you
stayed late. Such a pity for you to die on the short journey home.”
He laughed as a look of total despair shaped the rubber coated features
before him. Then, as if enjoying his revelations, he continued to
appraise the helplessly cocooned woman of the technical genius of her
confinement.
“My own invention, this stuff,” he said. “Cold dip latex - with a
difference! It"s permeable. you see. Your skin can breath naturally
through it without harm. And more to the point, it physically interlinks
with the molecules of your skin. In short, that means you have a new
skin that will last for five years - more if the material isn’t abused too
much!” A broad grin interrupted his monologue. "It's not just a
coating, it has become part of you. Peel it off and you peel part of
yourself with it!”
He beamed at her as if expecting some applause for his invention, but
the rubberised Fiona was not in a congratulatory mood.
I-lersch’s eyes narrowed as she remained silent so, turning to the
foreman, he gave more instructions.
“Take her to the test bench and let's see what she can do.”
The overhead rail began to move and Fiona felt herself being carried
towards a small, cordoned-off area to the rear of the shop. The rail
halted, leaving her swinging impotently and facing a large mirrored
wall and surrounded by instruments and equipment. She could see the
men busying themselves making connections and fussing around her
as she stared dumbfounded at the rubber coated doll she had become.
Hersch broke into her thoughts as he arrived on the scene and stood
waiting for the test. Fiona felt her fear mushrooming within as the men
stood back and indicated that all was ready. What was the testing to be?
What on earth could they do with her when she was so completely
trussed and helpless?
A hiss of air sounded and Fiona felt the tiny capillaries buried invisibly
in her new outer skin begin to twitch as compressed air ran through
them. Something on her lips stirred, then a stiffening sensation ran
around the extremities of her mouth. With something akin to morbid
fascination she studied her image in the mirror as her lips ripened and
stretched, forcing her mouth ever wider as they expanded into a fleshy
rubber covered ‘O’ shape. The final shape of her oral cavity was
predetermined by the moulded shape of the deflated bladder. The
hissing stopped and Hersch stepped forward to inspect her gaping
mouth.
”Hmm! Not bad. Those new inflatable bladders seem much better than
the last consignment," he observed as he tested Fiona"s inflated lips
with squeezing fingers. “The bonding onto her lips is permanent all
right and the extra ballooning effect with this rubber should give a nice
comfortable feel to her buyer when he sticks his cock in.”
Fiona’s eyes widened in horror and disbelieve as the image she saw
before her of herself suddenly made sense. Her gaping, round mouth
was an exact living replica of the obscenely designed blow-up dolls
sold in sex shops. Except that there was a living woman behind that
hole. Tears coursed down her cheeks as the cruel inhumanity of her
demise burned into her soul. She was just a toy - an inflatable sex toy
with no means of escape. Sold to some rich, dirty old man to be used as
a glorified aid to wanking.
Hersch’s voice snapped her back to the present.
“Right! Let’s test the others, then.”
The air hissed again and at once Fiona remembered the attachment of
another bladder as her pubic lips stirred into to life, stiffening then
stretching - eventually opening into a gaping maw. Fiona looked across
and saw that even with her legs tightly banded together, her most
treasured possession was now the parody of a melon with a quarter
slice cut out. The deep pink interior showed blatantly, way past the
rubberised outer extremities of her love shaft. Her innermost secrets
were displayed for all to see, and available to do with as her owner
wished. More hissing and she felt her buttocks being forced apart as the
ring bladder attached to her tight little ass began to stretch her open
with irresistible force. The pain of her violation forced frantic noises of
dissent from her still widely opened mouth and she treated the lusting
onlookers to a spectacular display of wriggling erotica.
Fully expanded in all areas, she struggled with all might - only to have
even this luxury denied her as they strapped her feet to the floor,
stretching her rigidly between neck and ankles;
A thorough inspection followed, after which Hersch stood up and
spoke to his team.
"Seems okay on static. Better get on with the cyclic testing and see how
it stands up to repeated use.”
Fiona sobbed pitifully as they switched the valves controlling her to
auto and stood back as the machine began repeatedly to expand and
release all three bladders in quick succession. Her pleas for mercy
flowed and ebbed from loud MMMMPPPHHI-IHs! to screaming
OOOOOOOOOOWWSI as her mouth was repeatedly stretched open
and then sealed shut by the irresistible rubber edges that now controlled her oral cavity movement. Her pussy pouted and pumped with a
mind of its own, whilst behind a clenching, stretching ring added a new
dimension to the word torment.
“We could save time if you do the ‘Latoskin’ abrasion resistance tests
at the same time,” added Hersch, looking at his watch and referring to
the trade name of the evil outer skin coating Fiona. “If you start now,
you can finish in time for this shipment.”
Fiona was left to her pulsing plight as they readied new equipment.
Having positioned everything as required, they switched on without
any consideration of the effects on the terrified occupant of that
traumatised rubber effigy.
Burning lines of fire raced across her buttocks adding to the already
unbearable torment of her inflatable orifices as the abrasion test began.
Machine mounted canes lashed with relentless regularity across her
helplessly offered buttocks and rubber coated breasts as she was left to
test the molecular bonded confinement's durability for the duration of
Apparently, he had perfected his technique on many other women in
the same predicament, for at the point of his explosive response, he
pushed the mouth stretching sausage deep into her throat with a
stiffened forefinger, and then reaching behind to the panel set all her
openings to tightly close. It was a masterful ploy. Not only was she
committed to swallowing the sausage whole, but her pussy clamped
onto his manhood with a vice like grip. Fiona felt him stiffen as she
absorbed his explosive outpouring, but was powerless to prevent her
own instinctive, frantic writhing convulsions as she tried to swallow
the massive frankfurter. Ierking and wriggling, irrevocably joined to
her tormentor by her own pussy clamp, she provided him with a most
enjoyable sensation as she cavorted on the stiffened rod of his manhood. The evil sneer on his face did little to reassure her that she was
anything other than a pleasurable and convenient dumping ground for
his excess body fluid. Gulping and straining, Fiona finally managed to
get the monster moving downward.
"Perks of the job, sweetie," he leered. “Had the last one up the ass;
lovely and tight she was. The one before her was tested upside down
- got her to swallow my balls as well,” he chortled, obviously pleased
that he had managed to get his huge shaft halfway down to the
unfortunate woman's stomach before dumping his seed.
”Didn’t half wriggle when I gagged her with a pound of hot throbbing
cock,” he added remembering with some relish the desperate struggles
of a suffocating rubberised effigy. "Had a great blow job by an automated mouth, and she was really pissed when I blew cigarette smoke
into her pussy! In pulse mode, she blew some neat smoke rings! Pity I
won't be around when that frankfurter reaches the other end, that
should be really interesting, seeing as it can't be digested with a
condom wrapped around it. I'll bet that brings tears to your eyes,
darling.”
The satisfied technician returned to his book after switching her back
to pulse mode, leaving the crying Fiona to drain in a series of long
drools with each opening impulse of her love shaft. Her uncontrollable
sobbing, distorted horribly by the regular opening and closing hole in
her face didn’t even seem to distract her tormentor, who was obviously
well used to having converted females hanging around the place.
Fiona, meanwhile, was considering this small foretaste of her future
use with a feeling of total despair. This lusting lout was only a worker,
what other atrocities would a more inventive owner be capable of
inflicting on her performing body?
Hersch and his staff returned after an eternity, and without switching
off the machines of torment they proceeded to inspect the mechanised,
rubberised woman as she performed for their inspection. Twitching,
pumping, pouting with mechanical regularity.
"Seems okay,” Hersch said at last and at a signal to his men, Fiona felt
her pulsing form begin to slow to a stop.
"Have you done the gripper test yet,” inquired Hersch. The foreman
shook his head.
"No, didn't have time before lunch, we'll do it now.”
Hersch turned back to Fiona as the Foreman busily began to switch
valves on the test rig.
"You should find this amusing,” he said, inserting a large steel dildo
into her widely stretched pussy. “New design I thought up. Double
bladder in your fanny. One opens you up, the other internal one is
shaped to close you down like a vise. Gives variety to the client you
see.” He smirked. Hersch was good at smirking.
The air hissed again and Fiona felt a hideous stirring deep inside her
body as the outer bladder deflated and an inner, far more sinister
bladder began shaping itself inside. She struggled valiantly as she felt
her inner tube being drawn in and forcibly reduced until it held the
invading dildo with a grip of iron.
Hersch tugged on the dildo and Fiona gasped as the pull tried to turn
her inside out. But Hersch wasn’t satisfied with that. He motioned the
foreman forward. He grasped the hook of a nearby chain-hoist, leaned
down and attached it to a ring on the outer end of the dildo.
The chain rattled through the hoist and Fiona found herself being
pulled inexorably upward from the crotch. The lift stopped and her
neck suspension was disconnected as she was left to hang inverted at
an angle of 45 degrees, supported solely by the grip of her pussy.
For ten minutes she was left hanging as Hersch attended to some paper
work. l/Vhen they finally decided to lower her down, it was by the
easiest method. A quick twist of a valve and Fiona felt the awesome grip
of her fanny-vice begin to fail. She screamed into her deflated and
tightly sealed lips as her own weight dragged her from the suspending
dildo and allowed her to plummet downward. But Hersch had no
intention of allowing the goods to be damaged, he made sure that three
burly workers deftly caught her trussed, falling form.
As the last gasping hiss sighed away from the air valves, another
worker appeared rolling one of the torpedo shaped objects she had
seen on the dock.
“Are we sending this one out with her,” he asked, nodding to the
suspended Fiona.
Hersch nodded.
“Yes, it's a pity we missed the last shipment due to those faulty
bladders. We could have been paid by now. Oh! By the way, did you
vulcanise the eyelids shut as the client requested.”
The foreman confirmed that he had. Hersch turned and saw Fiona
fearfully studying the shape on the floor, the number RFT / 233-( D) now
stencilled clearly on its surface. Her puzzlement at the meaning of the
marking was evident.
”RFT/ 233 Deluxe... that's Rubberised Female Toy Number 233, deluxe
model,” he enlightened her. “You know it better as Cindy! You'll soon
be RFT/234-(S)... standard version!”
He paused as the look of hopelessness spread over her face, the
whereabouts of Cindy's rubberised form no was no longer a mystery.
And rather stupidly she felt miffed at only being a common ‘standard
version’. That made the humiliation seem even worse.
Hersch continued.
"She was a nosy bitch, just like you," smirked Hersch. “And vicious
too! She gave me a nasty nose bleed before the curare took effect, but I expect her delayed delivery 
and being packaged like that for three or
four days whilst we got you ready has calmed her down a bit.”
He kicked the rubber sausage which promptly bounced away from him
and commenced a series of slight bending movements as the woman
within struggled for release.
“Special order she was and I'm glad to say the customer requested
some additions that I personally took great enjoyment in installing.”
He took even greater delight in relating them now to his captive
audience.
"Real deluxe-doll, this one,” he explained. “Arms forced into a back
prayer before coating, nicely moulded so that her hands clasp her neck
from behind. Very uncomfortable! Hair retained and plaited into a long
pigtail from the top of the head, then dip moulded in special strength
rubber before the coating went on. Useful for suspension, I suppose.
She's also triple dipped with spring steel wire embedded between the
layers. Took a hell of a job to band her! You see, she's designed to spring
into a spreadeagle the moment anyone releases the bands. It took five
men to compress her and get her straight for banding."
He paused, prodding the unfortunate Cindy with his toe, before
turning back to a horrified Fiona.
“All that plus all the same fittings as you, of course, although she differs
from you in that her ears were left without a seal when she was dipped
so that she has solid rubber plugs permanently fixed into her deepest
ear now and her eyelids were vulcanised shut when the customer
changed his order. She's blind until the rubber needs replacing five
years from now.”
He returned to the now inactive package and rolled it back and forth
with his foot, visualising the rubber encapsulated, spring loaded sex
toy into which he had converted the ferocious Cindy.
Fiona tried to visualise the terrifying plight of the encapsulated woman;
primed and ready to snap into a supine helplessly offered toy the
moment anyone released those bands. A whiff of compressed air and
that same spreadeagled rubberised doll would open up her delightful
openings like a blossoming flower as she lay quivering in the relentless
control of high tensile steel and bonded rubber. Hersch no doubt
thought it a fitting demise for a woman who had dared to punch his
nose. He had even added a packing note to her enclosure, offering to
take her back and modify her at reduced cost when any new and more
interesting developments were available. References were made in the
pamphlet to the new electronic/ silicone implant devices being designed that would allow an infinite choice of sizes in boobs and
buttocks, the dimensions of which would be altered at the press of a
button. The discomfort such outrageous expansions would cause as
they stretched within the doll were irrelevant.
Fiona stared down at the piteously converted Cindy and realised that
she must be the one who had already undergone the trauma of being
reamed up the rear by that disgusting technician. The rolling sausage
she had seen on the loadingdock had obviously contained his reluctant
‘Blow-]ob' conquest. Her thoughts were interrupted as Hersch turned
back from his musing's and addressed Fiona directly once more.
“Like the packaging?” he asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he continued to expound his theories.
“A fitting packaging I thought,” he said, chortling to himself. “Turning
women into giant phallic symbols so that they can be shipped for use,
shaped like the object they're going to be servicing.”
Fiona struggled to absorb the enormity and inhumanity of Hersch's
trade in living female toys as he continued with his lecture.
“lust had a new special order in from the States,” he was saying. “The
client wants a Viennese Oyster doll and fortunately the raw material
arrived yesterday; an ex go-go dancer called Marie with just the right
amount of flexibility.”
He hesitated, as he saw the look of puzzlement in Fiona's eyes.
“Oh! Of course, you wouldn't know what a Viennese Oyster was,
would you? he said laughing. “Well, we take the young lady and bend
her legs until her feet are behind her head. Then we bond the soles of
her feet together so that she's fixed in that position. Her arms we put
into a back prayer, like Cindy over there.”
He gestured towards the silent sausage nearby.
“Of course, we bond the palms and forearms as well before dipping. It
doesn't really require dipping, there's no way to escape anyway, but as
they say, the customer is always right, so our little Oyster is rubberised
and fitted with the standard control bladders. As a special service to our
customers, we usually connect the bonded feet to the wrists and tension
them down tight. This pulls the feet away from the back of the head and
allows the head to remain upright instead of bent forward. That little
modification of course has the added advantage that we can bond a
lifting pad onto the skull which becomes part of the rubberising coat.
They make lovely hanging ornaments when not in use, these Oysters.
And the final coating seals the whole arrangement into a one-piece
immovable unit!”
Fiona cringed at the thought of being moulded and rubberised in this
style, contorted and foreshortened into a pair of hideously offered
holes - destined to remain that way for five years without relief! A
hanging sex toy, or alternatively a saucer—shaped sexual floor decoration that rocked gently with every invading shaft. She thanked God for
small mercies in that shewas only designed in standard mode. Hersch's
next words shattered her completely.
“We usually only do that conversion on exchange dolls, and the tradein is resold as an Oyster. This is the first time we've been asked
specifically for a brand new version. In fact, when you come back
eventually that's how you'll be going to the next buyer, although we
usually sell ‘Oysters’ in packs of four at knock down rates. Very easy
to pack and ship, you see, and the shipping rates are cheaper if we can
keep the crate below a cubic metre. We get four to a consignment if we
flat-pack them - arranged pussy-to-face and banded.”
He smirked, again, as a look of pure horror came over his captive’s face
and pointed to a small, silent crate resting on the fork-lift, its dimensions about three feet square and two foot six high.
”There’s a consignment now - we got five in there! That one's going to
a private South American zoo. The guy wants some hanging toys for
the Gorilla enclosure. He's hoping that four hanging Viennese Oysters
will give his prize bull-gorilla the incentive to get amorous with his
mate - or alternately get some practice in first.
”He’s been a good customer, this guy, so we've thrown in a free offer
- a tiny little Chinese girl we were going to scrap and send to Algiers for
the brothel trade. She should make a nice toss-about toy for Papa Ape
- or maybe somewhere to keep his spare bananas. Hmmm! Come to
think of it, she’s small enough for him to use as a lunch box. She was very
flexible; used to be a contortionist in a circus, so we’ve done a special
with her. She’s got her knees resting against her ears and her calves and
feet drawn down to cross over her arm arrangement. Very compact and
manageable; especially with her feet out the way. That allowed us to
bend her head back a full ninety degrees and bond it in position
between both knees.
“I was going to keep her for a desk ornament - paper weight or
something, but what the hell! My place is already cluttered up with
rubberised ornaments and in any-case, she's not very interesting
moulded like that. No movement at all you see - not even the slightest
twitch! I might as well have a genuine blow-up doll that takes up less
storage room!”
Fiona stared at the crate with its hidden cargo of torment. All the
incarcerated, compressed ‘Oysters’ were no doubt fully aware of their
future use and helpless to avoid the ultimate degradation they would
suffer. It was hard to envisage that such a small insignificant crate could
contain five women, packed like a tin of sardines, each with her nose
pressed suffocatingly into another's pussy and forced to breath the hot
cloying fumes of rubberised crotch.
Her heart went out to the tiny distorted ball of Chinese femininity that
by now must resemble an oversize, screwable Tenpin bowling-ball -
compacted, contorted, inanimate! A neatly curved, black coated ovaloid
complete with finger holes.
It was, in fact, a similarity that had already been noted by the workforce. In particular, a hulking brute had demonstrated transporting
such a ball in a two fingered grasp - to the amusement of his fellow
workers and the discomfort and humiliation of the Chinese girl. But
humiliation had become a way of life for this poor unfortunate, and
would remain so for the forseeable future.
This was the fourth time she had been traded in since being ’Oysterized'.
Each successive owner had tired quickly with her inanimate form
having exhausted all the possibilities for her usage. Over the period of
three years she had variously been used as a comforter during a 4-x-4
trans Sahara rally, her usual mode of transport when not in use being
mounted alongside the spare wheel on the back door. Her next owner,
a woman who generally used her as a foot warmer in bed. She was
something of a hygiene nut case and insisted that her ‘warmer’ was
washed in the washing machine on a daily basis.
Perhaps her most degrading and traumatic usage had been her use as
a fishing float. A flotation collar around her neck barely kept her head
above water, whilst the baited hook hanging from her ringed clitoris
became a source of searing pain when the bait was taken by a large fish.
Dragged into the depths by the unseen diner below, she would be
pulled gasping to the surface as the line to her breast rings jerked taut
and both float and fish were reeled in.
Assignment number four was a relative holiday due the fact that she
was utilised in an inverted mode where her two built-in vases were
used solely for flower arrangements.
Fiona had listened in shock as Hersch reeled of the list of atrocities this
poor girl had suffered, then was distracted as she perceived movement
on the other side of the shop.
RFT/234-(S) strained her head sideways for a better view as an unpacked, re-cycled ‘Oyster’ - RFT / OY / 299 - travelled along the-opposite
production rail on its way back from the dipping vat and Hersch
laughed again at seeing her shocked stare as she beheld her future
configuration.
“Last time she'll be around here,” he remarked nodding to the slowly
travelling Oyster Doll. After five years in that mode, they can't be
straightened out again for re-cycling so we have them sent direct to the
baby-farm for re-coating and mounting into breeding frames.”
He chuckled again.
“Apparently, it's quite amusing to watch them giving birth with their
feet behind their heads - brings a whole new meaning to the term
‘dropping a sprog' when they're suspended like that for the birth. The
farm workers have great fun shafting them up the rear as the contractions start. It seems it's a completely different experience."
He stopped as tears rolled down Fiona's rubberised cheeks, then as if
to console her, gave further details of the farm.
"Oh! Don’t worry, my dear. Most of the time you’ll be left alone. The
whole affair is an automated process. As soon as you've been inseminated they place you in your very own incubator box and connect you
to a machine. Look, there's an old incubator over there,” he said,
pointing to a metal cube that was slightly larger than the average family
cooker and resembling a safe more than a habitat with the dial lock on
its front. Presumably this was to prevent workers tampering with the
fertilised occupant. It also guaranteed that the incarcerated Oyster
remained exactly as she was, a dangling embryonic component in the
baby producing machine; doomed to hang and slowly ripen like fruit
on a tree until she filled every square inch of that claustrophobic cube.
“For the next nine months, everything is done by tubes, ” he was saying.
"Feeding, breathing, waste disposal; in fact, everything including day
and night time are controlled by the computer, although we did have
a problem once with that damned computer. It went haywire and overfed one of the incubators for the whole nine months on high protein,
high fat foods. Couldn't get the woman out when we opened up, she’d
gone from seven to twenty-two stone and actually formed into a cube
shape as she grew into the container. We had to cut the container off her
in the end, but she never resumed her normal shape after that so we
sold her to a Russian circus as the world's only cubic woman. But not
to worry, we've ironed out that little bug now. The new computer even
senses when the baby’s due and sends your box along to the delivery
bay.
“They deliver the sprog, have a bit of fun before re-inseminating you
from the sperm bank and then you go back to your nice snug little home
for the next nine months. It's all a good laugh, you'll have lots of fun and
you won’t be lonely. There are about three hundred incubator cubes
stacked in that bay at any given time.
“With luck, a healthy girl like you will produce at least 10 to 15 young
before retiring. But don’t worry about that. We’re a green company,
you know. If the computer senses that the fertilisation hasn't taken after
four months it automatically fills your cube with concrete and sends it
for dumping at sea. All nice and clean - no pollution. Neat, don't you
think? An Oyster at the bottom of the sea! In fact, we've just secured a
contract to Supply sinkers for buoys With the harbour authority, so I
expect you’ll end up serving a useful purpose eventually.”
The humour of it all was lost on Fiona as she contemplated her final
destination some ten to twenty years from now, no longer a sex toy, but
instead a baby producing machine. A living incubator for some unknown male's offspring. Now she knew what it felt like to be a garden
plot and have seeds planted in you; not to mention the task of providing
an anchor to some rusty buoy in a deep polluted harbour.
She got no more time to consider the horror of being installed perpetually in a tiny sealed box, her every opening connected to hoses and
pipes and frozen forever into that hideous oyster shape. It was time to
complete her packaging. A switch was flipped and the bladders all
inflated together, stretching all her orifices to aching limits. Huge plugs
were rammed into her lower openings, before the most undesirable of
all was pushed into her mouth. The bladders deflated and her plugs
were tightly gripped and held firm by her newly rubberised flesh. A
hole in the gag plug was immediately fitted with a breathing tube and
her eyes sealed again with the contact lenses. She could feel her form
being sprayed all over with something, but was in no position to realise
that it was a coating of gel designed to prevent her new outer skin
sticking to the next item of packaging.
Hoisted once more, the pitifully wriggling blinded rubber doll was
positioned over a large stainless steel tube and then lowered until her
form had vanished within its confines. Two men climbed onto steps
alongside and began to pour a thick viscous liquid into the tube.
At first, Fiona could feel the goo lying thickly around her ankles, but
then to her dismay and terror she felt the mixture of chemicals stir into
life as the reaction started. The expanding flexible urethane foam crept
purposefully upward, thwarted only in its bid for escape by the lid that
had been fastened over the top of the tube. Angrily, the contained foam
continued to expand as it increased its density and Fiona found her
frantic movements being steadily reduced to near zero.
Barely ten minutes had elapsed before the cured torpedo was being
extruded from its moulding tube, the entornbed Fiona now safely,
hopelessly packaged for transit. Ready for the first stage of a new
existence that would ultimately end with her entombed, fertilised,
fattened and serviced by a machine - reduced to a module, a binary
number in the silicone chip brain of her keeper.
Pamela looked down from the office window as her third day's work
ended and as she did so she Wondered what was in those two strange
sausage shapes that were being loaded in the yard. Whatever it was, it
was some sort of secret project, but she knew that eventually her
curiosity would drive her to find out. Pamela strained her eyes and
could just make out the markings on the shapes as the men dropped
then and allowed them to bounce partly into the open back of the van,
completing their loading with well aimed kicks that rolled the objects
from sight.
”Hmmm! Iust what the hell is RFT/233-(D) and RFT/234-(S)," she
murmured to herself. A noise from behind startled her, and she turned
to see a smirking Mr Hersch enter the office.
"Working late again, Pamela?” he asked. She nodded silently.
"Well, I'm off now, so I'll see you tomorrow,” he advised as he turned
for the door. He added a warning.
"You just make sure you stay away from the factory, young lady.
Remember it's all Top Secret work down there."
Pamela smiled sweetly.
“Oh! Of course, Mr Hersch, I wouldn't dream of going down there,” she
replied in a pained voice.
Hersch nodded and smiled. Obviously, he was in a rush to get to some
sea-food restaurant thought Pamela, catching a muttered comment
about nice oyster as he disappeared through the door.
WITCHFINDER GENERAL
– Discovery
Time travel in the year 1652 was the sole preserve of Witches, Wizards
and Gods. In 1999, a mere mortal learned the trick. Being a sensible
fellow, he kept the fantastic knowledge to himself. His name was
William ]ames Quail.
Bill, as he preferred to be known, headed a team of physicists at
Lyneham University, which group had for years been studying the
effects of high energy particles on living tissue. Whilst the rest of the
team were compiling data on the destructive effects of these tests, Bill
was doing his own research into a strange side effect that became
apparent, and had yet to be satisfactorily explained. A small sample of
amoeba laden gelatine had simply ceased to exist on being subjected to
a hefty dose of L-gamma radiation whilst surrounded by a high gauss
magnetic field.
The sample, although enclosed in a sealed test container, could not be
traced. The container itself, appeared undamaged. Exhaustive tests
found nothing that even remotely resembled traces of the test material.
Baffled, the search went on for months, eating away at valuable
resource capital.
It was eventually decided that the disassembled molecular debris from
the sample had in some way penetrated the magnetic flux and been
absorbed by the surrounding container. What other explanation was
there? The work moved on, as it usually does, and the issue of the
disappearing amoeba faded from memory in some dusty archive.
Except that Bill just couldn't get the phenomenon out of his mind.
Something about the mystery nagged him to distraction. Something he
had read tickled the distant reaches of his mind. Was there something
in that old hypothesis that could shed some light?
Months passed, and as his team worked on, Bill became obsessed with
the idea that the vanishing cells had a meaning of truly stupendous
scientific importance. He spent almost every waking hour devouring
tomes of scientific data from the past.
Bill was exhausted and disheartened as he rubbed his tired eyes and
prepared to call it a day. That was a joke. He'd been reading since 7.30
am, and now it was 2.30 am on the following morning! The heavy
volume slipped from his fingers and fell to the side of the chair. Leaning
over, he reached down to retrieve the rare manuscript, made all the
more valuable by the handwritten notes entered therein by a young
Albert Einstein long before his face became as famous as his equation.
Bill lifted the old book onto his lap, eyes absently scanning the page at
which it had fallen open. His hands froze as scribbled equations leaped
out of the page and burned into his brain. Pushing his half frame
spectacles onto the bridge of his nose, he eagerly read line after line of
Einstein's notes. Many times he went over the text, each re~read
bringing fresh signs of understanding and realisation to his frowning
face. It was all there. The answer to the puzzle of the missing sample lay
in those scribbled, random notes and mathematical formula. Why had
it not ever been published?
The clarity of his perception was exhilarating. They would never find
that missing sample because it simply wasn't there! At least, not in the
way they had perceived. It had never left the container! It was still there,
but in a different time! The bombarding of L-gamma rays, coupled with
the effect of the strong magnetic field, had split the time-space continuum and allowed the adventurous amoeba to slip through the wall
of time into another era!
Dazed, Bill contemplated the significance of his discovery. Even for his
nimble brain, the possibilities offered by controlling such a force were
almost beyond the power to conceive.
More months passed and Bill’s appearances at the Lab became increasingly infrequent with each passing week. Concerned enquiries by his
colleagues produced no answer to his unexplained absences and
disinterest in current projects. Offers of help, and counselling, were
brushed rudely aside. Visits to his house were wasted effort, though it
was obvious from the flickering lights through the basement window
that Bill was there.
In all, fourteen months passed and Bill Quail was quietly written off.
His contract was terminated. Occasionally, his reclusive figure was
seen scurrying through the streets with various bundles or packages,
but he never stopped to talk.
A new year rolled around, and with it came the completion of Bill
Quail's dream.
– Time Machine
Bill rose from his workbench and stretched his cramped limbs. It was
finished! His dream project had tested successfully atlast. After dozens
of abortive attempts he was now able to send both living and inanimate
objects through time to a specific moment, accurate to only a few
seconds. More important was the fact that he could now bring them
back - alive and undamaged. There remained only the final test. He had
to replace the various rats and mice with himself!
Drawing a deep breath he made the final decision and began to clip the
miniaturised transducer to his belt.
During his construction, Bill had come across an anomaly in the time
matrix. He had deduced from this quirk of nature that it was possible
to arrive in the past in either an invisible, quasi-plasmic form - or
alternatively as a solid example of reality.
For the first test, Bill had decided to observe from the safety of the
ectoplasmic shield of invisibility. Furthermore, he'd decided that to
rely upon the mother device to return him after a predetermined time
would be sheer folly. Hence the clip-on transducer that would afford
him control from another time.
With the time set for one week in the past, Bill activated the time
transmitter. Nothing happened other than feeling a slight buzzing
sensation. It would appear that all his calculations were wrong, but
then, Bill knew that was impossible. He checked his watch. A smug
smile creased his lips as the door swung open.
Bill walked into the room, completely unaware that every move was
being watched by his future self. He busied himself adding some of the
final stages to the matter displacement unit, at the same time going over
calculations in his mind that had cropped up during a cross check on
some data.
Apparently, if everything worked he could time travel in either solid or
plasmic form. The problem was that calculations predicted an unstable
situation if his future and present self ever made contact in solid form.
The nature of this instability he was unable to determine, but having
discovered the possibility of its existence he had already decided not to
tempt providence by meeting himself for a handshake.
Bill watched himself for some time, then reaching for the transducer he
energised the future machine by remote. Bill the worker vanished
instantly and once more the time travelling scientist found himself
alone in the basement with only the humming machine for company.
A few quick checks revealed that he had returned a mere 1.3 seconds
after he left; and yet he had been in the past for some thirty minutes,
judging by his watch.
More calculations and additions to the machine and Bill discovered
that not only could he shift in time, but he could also control the locus
of materialisation - within a radius of a hundred miles or so.
Weeks passed and with each passing day Bill became more adventurous in his time travels. At first, he had limited himself to hours and days
into the past, but with a growing confidence he widened the scope of
his wanderings to encompass years gone by. As a result, he became
regular a spectral visitor to the eras of Victorian splendour and beyond.
Later, the dim medieval past had become his favourite. The fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries seemed such barbarous times, seething with
interesting battles and people; not to mention horrific acts.
It was during such a visit to the mid fifteenth century that Bill had
chanced upon the visit of a Witchfinder to the village of Sileby, in the
County of Leicestershire. He watched entranced as a young Wench was
singled out as being inhabited by evil spirits, to be dragged forward
screaming to face her inquisitor.
The Witchfinder was not impressed by her protestations of innocence
and decreed that she be put to the test. Bill continued to watch from his
secret, ethereal vantage point as the young nubile woman was stripped
naked before the village crowd and strapped firmly to a pivoted plank
set up by the local pond. Her screams of protest were silenced with an
evil spiked brank that threatened to pierce the tender lining of her
mouth the moment she tried to speak. The Witchfinder explained to the
crowd that this was necessary to prevent the devil within being passed
to another by speech; apparently a ploy often used by Satan when he
was cornered in a captive host.
Bill found to his astonishment that the sight of this naked, bound
damsel was having profoundly interesting effects on his libido. The
sight of her rope-cinched, struggling form sent hot waves of pleasure
streaking through his loins. Suddenly, the creaking ropes and muted
screams for mercy were quelled as the plank was tilted and the luckless
woman disappeared below the green, slimy surface. Silence reigned
amongst the onlookers as each contemplated the rippled, agitated
surface concealing the slowly drowning woman. Bill happened to see
the Witchfinder's face and was shocked by the look of sadistic glee
shaping his features. The bastard! He was really enjoying torturing this
helpless woman.
The plank rose after an eternity, revealing a choking, gasping, trussed
female who violently shook her head as she was questioned again by
the Witchfinder. Her refusal to admit the presence of inner entities had

her returned to the suffocating claustrophobia of the pool's slimy
agitated waters. Time and time again she was submerged, until mercifully unconsciousness claimed her tortured body.
The Witchfinder had her removed to the village jail for the night, where
she would remain fastened into a barbarous body shaped cage suspended from the jail roof until morning. Bill was sickened. There was
no other intent by this self appointed Witchfinder than to enjoy the
suffering of any unfortunate woman he decided to nominate as his next
victim. He could have forgiven the man if he had genuinely believed in
what he was doing, but pure sadism for his own personal gratification
and the destruction of this beautiful woman was beyond any limits Bill
could allow for self indulgence.
With a quick manipulation of his remote control, Bill was transported
in an instant to the morning of the next day. Seconds later he was reeling
in shock as he watched the unfortunate woman who had been released
from the cage, now being subjected to the most horrific insertions of
instruments of torture into her tender lower openings. The Woman’s
gagged screams echoed around the room as her savagely trussed form
fought to resist these assaults on her body. Undeterred, the Witchfinder
continued with relish as her pain increased to unbearable levels.
A full ten minutes passed before the woman capitulated to the persua-
sion of pain and indicated with frantic head movements that she was
ready to confess. The Witchfinder stood back, annoyed that all valid
reasons for inflicting more pain were removed by her confession.
The poor, wretched woman was duly condemned to be burned at the
stake without delay. Bill watched in horror as she was savagely rebound in a different configuration and carried out to the already
prepared pyre that would scorch her nubile form into a blackened
effigy. The maiden Eleanora would now amuse the Witchfinder in a
final fifteen minute display of the ultimate agony.
Horrified, Bill watched as the flames licked high and the struggling,
screaming woman fought against the non-flammable chains binding
her to the pole. Bill could stand no-more. A flick of the transducer and
he was back in his basement with a lot to think about.
– Intervention
For hours Bill sat deep in thought. His problem was two-fold. To save
the woman from her terrible, agonising fate would alter history itself
and this in itself was a serious consideration. The fact that to do so
meant that he would have to fully materialise in that distant past with
all its inherent risks did not escape him either.
Another problem was far more difficult to equate, or indeed accept. He
had actually enjoyed watching the woman bound and gagged. For
some reason, he just couldn't fathom the sight of this woman's naked
helpless body had fired his lust with the heat of a blow torch. The
thoughts of the sheer humiliation of her public display alone brought
fresh surges of feeling to his already rampant manhood - the same
thought also brought a feeling of guilt. He had enjoyed watching the
woman's exhibition of bound nudity, her struggles for freedom and the
terrible humiliation of being paraded before the whole village. Then,
having given this pleasurable display, she had been left to suffer and
die when she needed him most. This was something he couldn"t live
with. Bill already knew that he was going to do the unthinkable and
tamper with historical events.
For twelve hours Bill sat pondering his dilemma as the seed of an idea
began to germinate in his fertile mind. An idea thatwould not only save
the woman's life, but would also indulge his private fantasies. The fact
that he could engineer the downfall of that sadistic Witchfinder whilst
doing so was an added bonus that didn't escape him.
Days flowed into weeks while Bill prepared his plan of action. There
was no rush, the daesel had beef long dead these last three hundred
years. She would suffer no-more as he carefully assembled all the many
items needed to save her from a fate she had already suffered. In any
case, to acquire a genuine document empowering himself as Witchfinder
General had required some careful talking at the British Museum, and
even more careful forgery as he worked from the copy he had been
allowed to make.
The rest of his equipment proved easy. Visits to local sex shops and
various equipment suppliers proved an enjoyable part of his planning
as he was appraised of the many ways a woman could be restrained
without pain. Some five hundred years after her death, the rescue plan
for the virgin damsel Eleanora was ready for implementation.
Bill linked all the equipment, including a horse and a medieval cart
parked in his garden, to the matrix field of his machine. Setting the time
zone carefully he boarded the cart and prepared for his rescue, pausing
as he considered what he was about to do. He was nervous at the
thought that for the very first time he would be materialising as solid
matter in a time long gone. The implications of making a wrong move
could be catastrophic if he should change anything that directly affected himself or his ancestors.
His mind made up, he pushed the switch that would send himself and
his cart-load of equipment hurtling back into the mists of time.
Mists were an understatement! Wraith-like tendrils of fog surrounded
his materialised form. Leicestershire hadn't changed much in five
hundred years! The bowl of the valley carved by the River Soar had
always given rise to dense early morning fog. Bill peered through the
gloom and made out the well worn track leading to the village of Sileby.
The stone block at the side of the road was emblazoned with the carved
legend of ’Sileby 2 Miles’. Right on target, he thought with some
satisfaction. Let's just hope that time-wise he was just as accurate for the
sake of that young woman Eleanora.
A quick flick of the reins and the placid old horse he had bought from
a local farm trudged into motion, unaware that he was now treading a
path travelled daily by his own distant ancestors. Bill hoped that no one
noticed this strange breed of Shire that was not due to be bred until
some 100 years in the future. If necessary, he could pass off the
powerful work-bred animal as a freak of nature; a mutant horse caused
by some accident of birth.
As he moved towards the village his mind went over all the details of
his planning, his clothes, the cart - everything had to be in keeping with
the standard trappings of 1532. His equipment, however, was a whole
different ball game. The very nature of the materials he intended to use
would bring immediate suspicion from anyone who saw or touched
these complex compounds of modern rubber or nylon; not to mention
the stainless steels and plastics of 20th century industry. Rubber, the
most basic element of modern man, although still little more than a
purified tree sap, was yet to be discovered by explorers travelling to the
distant East.
Introducing these truly wondrous materials would be a tricky part of
his plan. He had somehow to answer their curiosity without actually
saying anything. Fear and mysticism would be the tools of his trade in
this particular matter; the rest he hoped would be covered by imagination and a deep seated fear and respect for the office of Witchfinder
General.
Darkness shrouded the village as a shadowy figure moved stealthily
along the wall of a small cottage. Eleanora and her parents had long
been asleep when the faint creak of a shutter sounded briefly in the still
of the night. The day had been tedious for Bill as he sheltered from view
on the edge of the forest; his powerful binoculars watching every move
made by the unsuspecting woman of his attentions. Now, with darkness shrouding his activities, Bill prepared the second stage of his plan
to rescue this fair damsel from her terrible, preordained death.
Looking down at her slumbering body, covered by the warm furs and
skins, Bill could not help but feel a strong arousal as he contemplated
the successful outcome of his nocturnal activities.
Slowly, being careful not to knock anything over, he reached out to the
cluttered log that served as a bedside table and gently lifted the earthen
water pitcher. He felt inside and confirmed that it was half full before
removing a small packet from his garments. With equal care he
emptied the contents of the packet into the pitcher and with slow
movements designed not to cause a splashing sound, mixed the contents in a swirling motion. The deed was done! All that remained was
for him to retire to the darkness of the forest and allow fate to decide this
pretty young damsel's future.
If she drank the potion he was sure that her life would be long and
fruitful. Failure to do so would almost certainly condemn her to a
terribly painful death at the hands of the Witchfinder due to arrive
sometime in the next day.
Morning dawned and with it Bill's first sight of the newly arisen
Eleanora. He watched with interest as she stretched innocently in all
her naked beauty by the open window, oblivious to the watchful eyes
of binoculars well beyond the range of normal human vision. She
turned and ruffled the long golden tresses of her hair, then reached for
the pitcher and a small carved wooden cup by her side. The cool water
tasted good to her dry throat as she sipped the brackish liquid down.
Bill checked his watch with a growing sense of success for his venture.
By his reckoning it would be roughly nine o’clock when the first signs
of his potion began to manifest themselves in this young woman. His
estimate was some fifteen minutes out.
At nine fifteen, the half demented shrieking figure of Eleanora burst
from the cottage followed by her parents. They caught up with her
fleeing figure and attempted to subdue the frenzied thrashing of her
flailing arms. As if trying to beat off invisible attackers, Eleanora swung
wildly at thin air. Fear and loathing twisted her pretty face as the
ravages of Bill's LSD potion brought drug abuse to this quiet rural
valley of ancient England for the very first time. Eleanora was having
as bad trip.
Other villagers ran to help and within a few minutes Eleanora’s
writhing, twisting body was subdued and carried back into the cottage.
Time for my appearance, thought Bill, as he returned to the concealed
cart and prepared for his fortuitous entry into the village of Sileby.
As the cart creaked and rattled its way down the main street many
turned to look at the driver; each feeling the same chill pass through
them as the black sombre clothes and trappings of a Witchfinder
General were recognised.
Bill made his way directly to the house of Eleanora, then feigning a
divine intervention, he halted and searched around him as if seeking
some hidden force. Standing up in the cart, he spread an outstretched
palm before him and began to scan the surrounding cottages. His scan
continued round, then abruptly came to a stop as his palm faced
Eleanora's cottage. A serious frown for the benefit of the watchers
creased his face as he dismounted from the cart and turning to a man
who was obviously the village leader, he spoke in a loud, commanding
voice.
“I sense evil here,” he pronounced, indicating the door to the cottage.
With a theatrical flourish he whisked out the forged document and
handed it to the village Elder. “I have been appointed and sent here by
his eminence, the Archbishop, to seek out all manifestations of evil and
destroy them in the name of the Almighty."
The Elder looked suitably impressed, and scared, as he scanned the
official seal of the church. Although he couldn’t read, he was well
aware that to question such authority as was represented by this design
would be unwise in the extreme.
"Your visit is well timed, Witchfinder General,” he grovelled. "This
morning, a young maiden has been taken by evil spirits and at this very
moment is possessed of the devil as she lies in her bed.”
Bill scarcely hid his grin as the seeds of his planning bore fruit.
“I will see this poor unfortunate without delay,” he ordered, moving
towards the door as the crowd drew back and formed a passage. The
interior of the cottage was cool and dark as he entered the living area.
Remembering his role of almost god-like supernatural talents, he
scanned the house with his palm. After a few moments he indicated
that the evil lay in the room to his left where he already knew Eleanora
would be. The gathering were impressed. This stranger knew instinctively which of four possible rooms harboured the evil manifestation.
Eleanora was still writhing and groaning in the grip of four burly
menfolk as they held her spread-eagled on the bed. No doubt a very
bad LSD trip, thought Bill. But then a bad trip was infinitely preferable
to the fate the other inquisitor had in mind, as he covered the last
eighteen miles to Sileby.
Bill placed his hand on the woman's forehead and nodded his head
knowingly.
"She is indeed bewitched, “he announced to the awestruck throng.
“Possessed of a very powerful and evil entity that will not only destroy
her but all of you unless we act quickly."
The crowd, as one, took an involuntary step back as Eleanora's innocent form seemed to radiate dark shafts of potent evil. Already the
seeds of ignorance and fear were beginning to blossom as Bill's plan
moved on.
“We must act swiftly to save her. Fetch all my goods from the cart!”
Bill watched as several men vanished from the room to carry out his
bidding and whilst they were gone he turned to Eleanora’s watching
parents with a look of great gravity.
“You must trust me completely if you wish to save your daughter.
Many things you will see will be beyond your understanding, but fear
not for Eleanora will be whole again and free from these evil Daemons
of Satan. My methods are strange and the secrets known only to the
Almighty, but if you do not trust me there is only one way to ensure the
safety of the village. If I fail, she must be burnt at the stake!”
Bill waited as a pregnant silence shrouded the room. It was boom or
bust time for his plan.
"You have our blessing,” ventured Eleanora's father after considering
the options. “Do with her as you must, Master Witchfinder. Anything
you can do to save our dear daughter from the fires of hell must be
done.”
Bill placed a hand on his shoulder and assured him that Eleanora
would not suffer, then turned as the men returned with his equipment.
All eyes in the room widened in wonderment as the masses of strange
paraphernalia were transported to Eleanora's bedside. Bill, meanwhile, was watching the slowly subsiding efforts of the woman with
the realisation that the mild dosage of the drug was wearing off. Soon
she would be rational, and if that happened too soon, the surrounding
throng might get second thoughts about his planned cure.
Urgently, he ordered her body stripped then, as her tortuous movements subsided further, he ordered that all were to leave the room.
"Quickly," he warned. “She's losing the battle for her body, the devil
is taking over!"
The orderly exit turned into a stampede as Eleanora groaned loudly,
leaving a jubilant Bill alone with the recovering maiden.
Rapidly he bound her wrists with padded leather cuffs, spread her legs
and inserted large dildos into both of her defenceless and virginal
openings. It was a painstakingly slow - albeit pleasurable - job! He had
no wish to damage the delicate, untouched portals of this yotuig lady,
and using liberal doses of jelly he eased the inserts into her succulent
young openings. These he connected by thin wires to a small control
box taped into the small of her back. His next item was a huge ball gag
with a solid bar running through its middle. This was wedged into her
groaning mouth with some difficulty until the bar rested tightly in the
corners of her lips. A sturdy strap soon secured the whole arrangement,
immovably and punitively, into her oral cavity leaving her gagged and
silent.
Ankle fetters and a heavy duty Latex body-binder were the next items
of Eleanora's wardrobe to be added, not easily in the case of the body
binder. It took Bill some twenty minutes to stretch the tight sheath over
Eleanora's fettered form; and a further ten minutes to thread the laces
running from ankles to head that pulled the pleated seams together.
Before drawing the laces tight, the pleat had been stretched fully open
by Eleanora's enclosed body. Now with the laces drawn taut the pleat
had vanished and the two rows of eyelets nestled neatly side by side.
Only a firmly gagged mouth and Eleanora's nose remained visible as
he called the waiting parents back in.
“She's safe to approach now,” he confided. “Satan's evil cannot escape
the confines of this Holy shroud.” Bill emphasised the shroud’s total
enclosure by running his hands over the smooth, rubber encased
curves of her body.
"Now, you must help me complete her confinement before the devil
returns to fight for possession of her soul.”
Eleanora's parents approached her encapsulated form with trepidation, tentatively reaching out to touch the strange skin coating their
daughter. Quickly they snatched back their hands as they encountered
the warm smoothness of her body, fearful of this strange, all-enveloping sheath that appeared to grow on her body. Nervously, they assisted
as Bill threaded heavy leather straps through the many loops in the
outer surface of the cocoon and completed her total immobilisation.
Within minutes, the steadily reviving Eleanora was reduced to mummified helplessness by the encirclement of the tightly cinched bands of
leather covering her form from neck to ankles.
Bill was glad of the loose fitting clothing of the medieval age that
conveniently hid the raging erection in his trousers. Sweet Eleanora
was certainly possessed now, but of the ability to raise massive feelings
of lust in his body with the image of her totally trussed helplessness!
The sweet torment he had planned for her future almost caused him to
explode into his duds at the mere thought of it!
“But why the gag?” inquired her mother.
Bill turned and, with an air of impatience, explained the necessity of
this seemingly unnecessary item.
“Satan moves in dangerous ways,” he warned. “Once he finds he is
trapped in her body without being able to move or flee he will try to
escape by using her voice to carry him to another form. The bar is for
her own good. When Satan finds he is thwarted he will vent his anger
on her body and cause her to thrash and fight."
Eleanora’s parents nodded as if understanding these matters.
“Many times I have seen poor unfortunates driven to bite off their own
tongue by the fury of his anger,” continued Bill. “Now we must act with
haste and prepare, for there is another evil-one approaching your
village at this very moment. A false claimant to the title of Witchfinder.
The parents looked shocked as he paused for effect.
“We must hide Eleanora from his sight and prepare to trap this
harbinger of evil with his own actions. Quickly, place this unfortunate
maiden in the chest until we can return and drive the devil from her
body.”
Bill slid a specially vented and padded coffin shaped box forward and
assisted as they lifted the rubber entombed damsel into the box. With
the lid shut it only remained for the heavy brass banding and locks to
be secured to ensure that Eleanora's continued occupancy was not an
issue. A final gesture of theatrical window dressing by Bill entailed a
heavy chromed crucifix which he solemnly placed on the top of
Eleanora's casing.
“To protect the woman from further intrusions of evil spirits,” he
informed the silently Watching pair.
Bill was highly pleased with his plan so far. Before him lay the crated
form of a beautiful woman - bound, sheathed and gagged into a
motionless impotent silence, packaged in fine oak and awaiting his
pleasure with no hope of escape. He led the way out and was joined by
the others, none of Whom wished to be alone in that room with the
forces of evil. Thus the stiffened, silent cocoon was left to its own
devices as they prepared for another unwelcome visitor. Unseen,
unheard, a nubile young women strained and writhed against the
unbreakable bonds of modern technology.
– Day of Reckoning
Approaching the village Elder, Bill inquired of him the whereabouts of
any other good looking females within the community. The Elder
looked puzzled as he pointed out another cottage further down the
street.
"There is the lass, Megan, yonder.”
He studied Bill suspiciously.
“But what does the Witchfinder General want with her? For tis' of good
faith in our Lord that this woman is protected from the Daemons of
Satan.”
"Perfect!" replied Bill. “Tis just such a holy woman I need to entrap this
evil-doer who has been taking my name in vain. For her to be proclaimed a witch by this man will surely prove that he is an impostor
who preys on innocent women.”
The Elder considered Bil1’s wisdom at length and then confirmed that
such a declaration of witchcraft would certainly be false with this
woman.
“But how do we trick him without allowing him to torture a confession
from her?” he asked thoughtfully. “This woman doth not deserve to be
put to the test when it is known that she is innocent of evil doings.”
Bill smiled, glad that he had foreseen such a reaction and planned for
its eventuality.
“Fear not old man, for trick him we shall and not a hair of dear Megan’s
head will be hurt. But you must trust me for I make a strange request.
Megan must not know of her use as a means to trap this man for she will
surely give doubt by her demeanour if she knows she is not to be
tortured. Tis cruel, I know, to deceive the maiden in such a way, but far
less cruel than to let this man continue to torture and murder innocent
damsels. True, she will be frightened, but the Devil cannot harm a
woman of the faith. Our Lord will protect her from his wrath!”
The Elder seemed convinced, although not too happy, as Bill ordered
three strong men to take and strip Megan.
“Bind and gag her securely, then install her on the stake ready for
burning!”
The screaming woman was summarily stripped. Struggling madly, she
was chained and roped to the post as Bill explained his plan to the
listening Elders of the community council. He interrupted his deliberations, and crossing to the frantically straining Megan instructed that
turns of rope were drawn tightly between the join of her legs and across
her mouth.
“We don't want any openings available for torture instruments!”
His attention was drawn back to the stake as a gasp sounded from
Megan's sealed lips and he was in time to see three turns of course rope
being drawn deeply into her cleft by the cinches. The lips of her mound
bulged roundly and then parted to swallow the taut cords into the
valley of her sex.
Bill studied her trussed form, noting with some pleasure the rope
framed breasts jutting outward to form two ballooning spheres, the
eight rope turns encircling her neck holding her stiffly erect - and
finally, the savagely cinched body with its many curving protrusions
bulging painfully between the taut encircling bands of hemp. She was
well secured. Barely a ripple showed in her as he reached down and
tested to see that she was sealed and felt the rigid bars of cord covering
her innocent pussy. With difficulty, Bill turned his attention away and
back to the task in hand.
“When the impostor enters the village, he must be told that she has
already been tested for the truth and has admitted her dastardly
partnership with evil forces. You must convince him that you knew of
his arrival and were waiting for his final inspection and judgement
before she is put to the torch.”
One of the council timidly ventured a suggestion he had expected.
"But if this man enjoys inflicting pain, as you say, sir, he will surely wish
to test her himself?”
“Surely he will. But not if he has the promise of three or four other
women to test after proving Megan is corrupted by the devil. Trust me.
I will ensure that Megan is not so attractive to him.”
The senior Elder nodded slowly, acknowledging Bill's cunning as he
answered.
“Aye! Tis true. All we need do is show him four of our most comely
wenches through the bars of the jail to Wet his appetite. I'm sure the
wenches of sin from the house of ungodliness will be only too pleased
to gain favour with the Elders by offering to help.”
He smiled as another thought crossed his mind.
“Perhaps they will be converted if they do work for the Almighty and
will see the error of their ways.”
"I doubt it,” murmured Bill to himself.
Everything was settled and the trap primed. Barely in time, as it
happened, for no sooner had the protesting ladies of ill repute been
trussed securely and locked in the jail than the solitary figure of the
Witchfinder appeared at the forest's edge. His eyes narrowed as he saw
the distant figure of a female bound to a stake and surrounded by
brushwood. Kicking his pony into action, he rapidly covered the
remaining ground separating himself from the scene of a woman about
to suffer.
Met by the Elders, he listened as they proudly proclaimed their
expertise at extracting the truth from this evil Witch and bade him to
check the voracity of their findings. They made sure that he was
appraised of the other four accused at present residing in the jail before
standing back and allowing him passage to see for himself.
His eyes slitted and gleamed with evil intent as he surveyed the four
voluptuous lasses writhing in their ropes on the jail floor. These chattels
would provide excellent sport, he thought, studying the ample breasts
and soft curving figures. He ordered that they be strung up by the
ankles from the beams ready for testing, and watched with undisguised relish as the four writhing forms were hoisted to hang helplessly
awaiting their fate. Satisfied that he had plenty of sport in the offing, he
made his way back to the stake in the square.
The Witchfinder approached Megan's frightened figure as she struggled in vain against her chains and ropes. Her muffled pleas for help
were effectively distorted by the huge wad of hessian in her mouth, and
garbled words served little purpose in appraising the Witchfinder of
her innocence. But the Witchfinder was not pleased. He was not about
to be robbed of his pleasure by a well meaning crowd of ignorant
yokels. No! He would have to test this Wench further, he thought, as he
approached her wildly struggling figure.
“Release her! I must carry out more te...!”
His voice trailed off as the abominable stench of dung and rotting eggs
pervaded his nostrils. Sure enough, he perceived the source of this
awesome nostril searing stink to be the damsel at the stake. His nose
wrinkled as he approached her and confirmed his suspicions. The
woman stank to high heaven - of what he had no idea! Bill's stink bomb
mixture hadn't even been invented in 1532, and was therefore something of an unpleasant novelty.
The Witchfinder really didn't fancy touching this evil smelling object
when he had four other, sweeter smelling subjects awaiting his testing
in the jail. No! This woman he could forgo without feeling any loss. He
Walked around her tethered form and searched for the means to
confirm her guilt without recourse to further testing. He probed her
cinched crotch with his stick, at the same time careful to maintain his
distance by using the stick at arms length. Thwarted by the cinches, he
was unable to open her and check for the Devil's mark, nor could he
avail himself of her rear passage thanks to Bill’s tightly administered
rope barrier. Frustrated at missing this chance to inflict pain, he moved
on. C ontemptuously, he sliced the cane down across Megan's extruded
bosom and Bill was barely able to hold back the angry surge of the
watchers as an livid red line appeared on the surface of her creamy
lobes. The Witchfinder moved behind his victim and sliced viciously at
Megan's cinched, taut buttock skin and enjoyed her muffled screams of
pain as she strained against her bonds. For several minutes he stood
savouring her distress, then raising his eyes he located the mark he
needed.
“Aha!” he announced loudly as he spotted a mole on Megan’s shoul-
der. “Tis obvious the woman is a chattel of Satan! She bears the mark
of the devil blatantly on her body and without shame!”
The Elders gathered to peer at the offending brown dot that had been
sufficient to condemn poor Megan to a burning hell. Querying the
Witchfinder’s judgement, they earned themselves a lecture on not
interfering with things they didn't understand. '
“Burn the witch,” he ordered. “Burn her and watch the devil squirm!"
He snatched a torch and stepped back from the brush pyre, grinning
evilly at the wide, desperately pleading eyes of the distraught woman
bound tightly to the pole. At least he would have the pleasure of
watching her terror and pain as the flames stripped her naked flesh
from her bones.
He lit the torch from a fire and drew back his arm to toss the blazing
faggot at Megan's feet, but a powerful hand held his wrist in a grip of
iron.
"Not so fast, my fine friend. Thou hast just condemned the village holy
woman as being a Witch, how dost thou explain this?" queried Bill in
his finest medieval tongue.
Megan watched uncomprehending as her fate was postponed and her
accuser was surrounded by angry village people. The Witchfinder
stumbled for words as the trap was sprung. He knew that to survive
this day was going to be a slim chance at best. At worst, he would suffer
the same hell as all his past victims, a fate that Bill had planned would
happen for sure.
The Witchfinder's fate was sealed in a second as Bill ventured the
hypothesis that he was an agent of the Devil himself, sent to vent his evil
desires on innocent maidens as he impersonated genuine Witchfinders
appointed by the Parliament. A cry of put him to the test was soon in full
bloom with the baying crowd and the ex-Witchfinder's fate was no
longer in doubt.
Bill had no stomach for the actual testing and busied himself freeing the
dumbfounded Megan from her position on the pole as they were left
alone in the square. At one stage, she was freed from the waist down,
whilst still held firmly by her upper bonds. Bill was sorely tempted to
avail himself of her tempting charms, but contented himself with a
fumbling attempt to undo the tight knots that ensured ample groping
of her mature breasts. Her incredulous and sometimes angry looks
were diverted from Bill by screams of pain from the nearby jail. Bill's
explanation of how she had been used as bait found no sympathy from
the wronged Megan; that is until he pointed out that without her
unwitting help, some young women of the village would now be
screaming instead of the evil Witchfinder. Put to the test, the luckless
Witchfinder was forced to disclose to his inquisitors a cornucopia of
hidden Daemons. Shortly thereafter, he graced the recently vacated
pole at the centre of the pile of brushwood. He was not missed more
than he deserved!
- Eleanora is Exorcised
With the threat from the bogus Witchfinder removed, Bill was allowed
a free hand in his quest to rid the delectable Eleanora of her Satanic
lodgers. There had been moments when this pleasure had been in
doubt. Eleanora, having recovered from her LSD trip, had initially
fought madly to escape the claustrophobic confines of her restraints,
only to slump in exhaustion as the bonds refused to release her
sweating form.
This inactivity had been interpreted by the villagers as a sign that the
Daemons were destroyed; exorcised by the death of their master, the
late and unlamented Witchfinder - a possibility that Bill had already
foreseen. A sly press on the_controller within the folds of his clothes had
rapidly dispelled any such thoughts as the de-crated Eleanora suddenly burst into a frenzied activity; courtesy of the finely tuned
electrical impulses passing from the dildos in her filled orifices.
Turning the control knob altered her gyrations from frenzied thrashing
to rigid, arched quivering stiffness that soon persuaded the villagers
that there was still work to be done before Eleanora would be rid of the
monsters within. They were not to know that these internal Daemons,
far from being spectral, were a mixture of plastics, metal and state-ofthe—art micro-chip wizardry! The tingling shocks surging through
Eleanora's body were not designed to be painful. Nevertheless, they
were sufficient to control her muscles most effectively; more like a
powerful Slendertone device than an instrument of torture. Bill, eager
to proceed with Eleanora’s exorcism, pointed to a strange stand affair
in the pile of equipment and called the men forward.
“We must prepare her for the driving out of these evil spirits. Take
yonder device and erect it in the village square where the shadows
never fall. She must be bathed in God's pure light and away from all
buildings during the time of her greatest danger.”
Bill gave precise instructions as to the placement of the device in
relation to various points of the village. His directions were carefully
calculated to ensure that the stand occupied a precise spot in the village
square, a spot that was vital to his planning. He neglected to mention,
however, that the public mounting of Eleanora ensconced in her rubber
cocoon was also designed to enhance his enjoyment of her predicament. Nor did he mention that her ordeal would be long and arduous;
and although a secondary consideration, he wanted her placed in a
position whereby he would be able to see her struggles from any point
in the village.
The men hefted the heavy beam device and disappeared out into the
glare of the midday sun and Bill felt the heat of arousal strengthening
in his groin. He'd saved the sweet damsel from a terrible fate. Now he
would collect his reward!
The emplacement of Bill’s stand required the digging of two holes in
which to implant the legs supporting the cross beam. This took some
time, but Bill was happy to stand and watch as the work continued. He
was tempted to use the other facility of the radio controller in his pocket
and energise the box taped to Eleanora's back in a different mode.
Exercising enormous constraint he resisted the temptation. He would
wait until she was safely mounted as planned before he introduced her
to the mechanised pleasures of the 20th Century.
The holes were complete and the heavy wooden mounting rail lifted
into position as he watched. It took only a few minutes to refill the holes
and tamp the soil tightly around the legs of his device and then all was
ready. Eleanora's rubber sheathed form was carried forward and
placed flat on her back on top of the cross bar; her precarious perch on
this narrow platform being maintained by the two men who held her
steady. Bill advanced with extra leather strap fittings and clipped them
to rings attached to the encircling straps of the cocoon. These in turn
were passed under the horizontal beam and drawn taut with heavy
buckles. The placement of these additional leather bands left Eleanora
welded to the cross beam at neck, waist and ankles.
Producing a battered book from his apparel, Bill motioned the crowd
back until they were a distant ring lining the square, then opening the
book he began to chant unintelligible mumbo-jumbo for the listening
crowd. His flat, toneless chant soon had the onlookers believing that
they were hearing sacred Words that would cast the devil back to the
fires of his own hell.
“The square of the hypotenuse is equal to the...!”
Bill was amazed how magical a book on trigonometry could sound
when recited in such a way. He had toyed with the idea of using a book
on magical incantations from that era, but had decided against it in case
the words were known and he somehow got the wrong version. Quite
apart from that consideration, there was the problem of ‘Ye Olde
Englishe’ language, not the easiest of text to decipher when under
stress like this. No! This was much better; his dialogue up to now had
been absorbed in awe by a crowd who had never heard anything like
it! Truly this man was a messenger from the Almighty with such
strange and powerful words, not to mention the amazing magical
symbols they had fleetingly glimpsed in that book of the mystic arts.
Computer generated graphics were obviously the writing of the God's
in 1532!.
Bill finished off his act with a flourish, laying on hands, dwelling perhaps
seconds longer than proprietary on the young swelling breasts encased
in their rubber moulds. His squeezing fingers were unseen by the
distant onlookers, but felt by the moaning woman within the cocoon.
He leaned down and placed his lips close to the side of her head before
speaking to the encapsulated woman.
“Fear not, Eleanora, for I have come to save you from the evil Daemon
infesting your body. You will feel no pain, only the forces of evil as they
try to escape or take control of your soul. Do not be despaired, for they
cannot harm you any more. The Almighty will enter your body to help
you and you will feel great pleasure. Do not deny that pleasure. Allow
it to grow. Feed on it, for it is the poison that will destroy the Daemon
within.”
Eleanora lay quiet and still. She had already felt the Daemons shaping
her body and accepted the words of this unseen saviour without
hesitation. His words enticing her to enjoy the pleasure were, however,
received with a measure of disbelief. Had she not been taught that the
pleasures of the body were a sin sent by the devil? Should she not deny
them or risk losing her soul to the very Daemons who now controlled
her? Her mind was in turmoil as the faint sounds of her adviser could
be heard retreating. But to where? Where was she? Eleanora knew that
she was not in the cottage by the absence of footsteps sounding on the
stone floor. Surely she must then be in another place designed for
expelling the devils within, a sanctity of the church or even a blessed
house.
Bill joined the awestruck crowd and feeling that it was time to start the
event, he pressed the button that would start the electronic Daemons
shaping and contorting Eleanora’s captive body.
A murmur rippled through the crowd as his prophecy that the evil
would return was seen to be true. Eleanora began to heave and twist
against the powerful restraints securing her body. The glistening
surface of the Latex sheath rippled with magical shards of sunlight as
her helpless form was forced to tense and relax; manipulated by the
surging currents circulating within her captive body. Even from this
distance, Bill could hear the muffled cries for help and the creaking of
strained leather binders.
He allowed her Daemon attack to run for another ten minutes before
switching off her internal tormentors so that she could lie in peace with
breasts heaving delightfully. The next stage was to be the tricky one. If
her mounting had been incorrectly placed, his clinching demonstration
of connections with the powers above would be a flop.
Taking a deep breath, he slid his finger to the as yet unused third button
on his controller and pressed down firmly. Hallelujah! They had placed
her perfectly in position.
The crowd gasped in awe and shrank back as an unearthly blue light
streamed through the distant trees and bathed the fettered woman in
a shroud of pulsing colour. The intensity of the light was such that even
in bright sunlight its track was plainly visible. Bill heaved a sigh of
relief. Thank God that modern day low~power gas lasers were reliable.
He was ecstatic at the effect that was even better than he had dared hope
for. Eleanora's movements and the shiny skin of her containment were
combining to produce a pulsating effect that gave the reflected laser
light an appearance of life itself. For all the world it looked as if this
bewitched woman was now surrounded by a spectral entity from the
heavens. Eleanora had her own personal Aurora Borealis. Bill quickly
pressed the middle button and waited for effect. This channel control
was not liable to have the same immediate effect as the other two and
he didn’t want anyone getting bored.
Inside her dark clinging womb of rubber, Eleanora lay still as she felt
the Daemon’s efforts subside and her bodily movements returned
normal. But what next she wondered, half in fear, the other in wonderment. She sensed the feeling of fullness between her legs and some
slight discomfort from the rear orifice, but was in no position to
determine the cause. Besides, the sensation was mildly satisfying and
not at all unpleasant.
Suddenly she felt a slight warming of her sheath and was unaware of
the ghostly light now bathing her outer covering. She was fully aware
of the next stage as a gentle tingling buzz seemed to spread through her
lower body emanating from deep within her front shaft and then
spreading to her other more private tunnel. The sensation grew in
power and Eleanora was torn between her belief that to acknowledge
it was sin - or should she trust the words of her saviour and accept it as
a gift of the Almighty sent to help destroy the Daemon within.
For several minutes she was undecided as she fought the tingling,
satisfying feelings racing through her body. She could feel her breasts
coming to life and groaned into her gag. Nipples pressed tight by the
rubber grew into hardened turrets of need and poked miniature
mountains upward into the tough sheath. The clearly visible nodules
stood out proudly for the benefit of the onlookers who Bill had now
allowed to draw closer.
The vibrating temptation in her body suddenly increased to undeniable levels as Bill wound up the vibrators and Eleanora knew that her
battle was lost. She could not deny the Almighty's advances. She was
his to do with as he pleased. With that capitulation to the forces of good,
Eleanora felt her pubic lips swelling rapidly as they engorged with
blood. Her clitoris became a hard kernel of throbbing need and the wet
oily sensation oozing from her love nest heralded nature's awareness
that she was ready as her love juices trickled hotly between clenched
thighs. Believing herself to be alone in a room of sanctity, the writhing
woman allowed herself the luxury of releasing all the powers of her lust
to ravage her beleaguered and bound form.
The crowd watched enthralled as the spasmodic jerking of Satan’s evil
efforts were replaced by the sensuous flowing undulations of a woman
in ecstasy. Loud moans of pure joy filtered past the huge ball gag and
rebounded in echoes from the buildings as Eleanora surged into her
first union with the perceived Almighty. The dancing beams of blue
light glinted and glistened from the wildly cavorting cocoon and the
onlookers were pleased as fleeting shafts of this supremely God-like
light played on their bodies.
Bill groaned loudly and closed his eyes as the sheer erotic spectacle of
Eleanora's exertions triggered an unsolicited orgasmic climax of his
own. The crowd looked on, mistaking his demeanour as one caused by
a link with the spirit of the Almighty as he amused himself with the
captive damsel. They marvelled at the powerful connections of this
Witchfinder General, for truly he was a great man on a Holy mission to
rid the world of evil.
Bill opened his eyes just in time to see the writhing parcel of displayed
eroticism explode into unbridled spontaneous eruptions of lust. Eleanora
was unwittingly performing for the silent watching crowd the most
awesome display of carnal enjoyment anyone had ever seen. Men and
women alike stood transfixed as they each struggled with their own
arousal inspired by this captivated erotic dance.
Enough was enough! Bill felt that for the present Eleanora could be left
to simmer in her own carnal pressure cooker and with a great effort of
self control, he turned to an Elder.
“There is no more we can do for the present,” he advised. ”She’s in the
capable hands of the Almighty for the moment and we must leave her
until we are given the sign that she is ready for the next part of her
exorcism.”
With that, he turned away leaving Eleanora to the mercy of those
tireless invaders buried deep in her lower body. The damsel would
suffer the inquisition of the new Witchfinder to be sure, but her trauma
would consist of endless pleasure instead of pain. Perhaps he would
return after a meal; but then again, perhaps not. Eleanora was safe
where she was until he decided that it was time for her present ordeal
to end, and for the new one begin.
– The Daemons Within
Bill watched the distant solitary object at the centre of the square from
his seat by the window of the Elder’s cottage. The throng had tired of
watching Eleanora's endless antics and had all retired for lunch. Bill's
gas powered Spectral light had disappeared and all that was left was
the tirelessly squirming mounted cocoon wrestling in the grip of both
good and evil tormentors on an alternating basis.
He returned to the damsel’s lonely vigil before taking nourishment and
removed the separate circular latex covers that formed part of the
cocoon covering Eleanora’s breasts. Her youthful mounds of pleasure
immediately sprung into view, smooth and inviting as they jiggled
slightly with her struggles. With great relish he enjoyed handling these
young nubile mounds of erotica as he affixed additional torments to the
captive's exposed and vulnerable breasts. The buzzing cones now in
attendance on her dancing nodules of ecstasy were just further proof
that this Witchfinder was indeed a great magician. The crowd watched
with fascination as Bill secretly energised both shock tormentors and
arousal vibrators together and simulated a great battle of good and evil
within the pulsing woman’s form. He was delighted as he watched and
listened to the rising and falling sound of her exquisite torment. Her
moaning pleas for physical human fulfilment reached new heights of
despair with each ensuing orgasm. The writhing contortions of every
climax took on a new ferocity as her libido tore her resolve to shreds.
With wicked intent, Bill took to energising both muscle stiffening
electrodes and vibro stimulators at the same time. The effect of an
orgasmic, electrically stiffened and lustfully arching Eleanora was a
sight to behold. Truly, the young maidenwaswithout doubtatoy in the
hands of his insatiable machines.
The day drew to a close and as the last rays of the sun cast golden fingers
on Eleanora's exhausted figure$ Bill ordered that she be released and
her encapsulated body returned to the cottage.
Alone in the quiet of the cottage bedroom, Bill began to peel Eleanora’s
cocoon from her tired, sweat coated body. Her eyes opened as she was
uncovered and she stared long and hard at her saviour's face. Bill
returned her looks and as she tried to speak with stiff jaws, he laid his
finger on her lips and bade her be silent.
“It is not finished yet, young woman," he warned. "The evil still lies
within you. It is at present resting from the great battle you fought
today, but its death is still to come. We must continue as it gets Weaker
until it is vanquished forever."
Eleanora looked suitably impressed and lay unresisting as he took her
freed limbs and proceeded to stretch her stringently to the four corners
of the heavy oak frame of her bed. The adjustable straps he used were
soon pulled to the limits of her endurance and then he left her offered
like a starfish in all her resplendent beauty. She was not ashamed of her
nudity for to be seen by such a great magician was no disgrace but in
fact an honour.
Eleanora tried to thrust ungodly thoughts to the back of her mind as she
contemplated this great man taking her as she was - ravishing her
carnally as she lay helpless and vulnerable. The thoughts were transformed instantly into liquid betrayals of her inner feelings as her wide
spread, needy sexual mouth oozed copious amounts of love juice. She
blushed and tried to turn her head away in her shame, but Bill grasped
her gently by the chin and turned her face back to his as he counselled
her like a wise Elder.
“Do not deny your body, young maiden. It is a great gift from your
creator to be cherished and enjoyed to the full. There is no evil in your
gift. The sin is only in the thoughts of others who would cast shadows
on your pleasure. They defile the glory of a wondrous creation by
slandering the natural instinct you were endowed with by the Almighty.” '
Eleanora’s blush was replaced by a puzzled frown as she struggled to
come to terms with this new concept of morality, her exquisite face was
creased by lines of thought and that delicate little nose turned even
further upward with the contraction of her facial muscles.
Bill eased open her lips and slid a large dildo gag between the generous
glistening portals of her oral cavity, then reaching behind he fastened
the strap that would hold it in place for the night. She was securely
gagged and helplessly offered and yet he refrained from slaking the
raging lust in his loins. He tensed as he reached over her spread-eagled
body for the controller and felt his rock hard manhood press against
Eleanora's raised mound. He paused and felt her gently rise and
tentatively thrust her aching pubis against his shaft. His resistance was
waning rapidly and yet he knew he must not weaken. Not yet! The time
wasn't right!
He drew back and saw the blush return to her face as he succumbed to
the desire to stroke her breasts. My God! She was truly a beautiful
woman - so fresh, so desirable in her naivety. The innocence of youth
was a wondrous thing to behold. Bill rose from the bed barely able to
control his urge to remove those vibrators and thrust powerfully into
the depths of her warm inviting body. But he knew he must resist. The
time had yet to come where he would be free, or invited, to sample the
delights of her succulent body. First, she must suffer the agonies of
arousal and denial to better understand the great moment of final
joining.
There was, of course, the other consideration in that he couldn’t deny
himself the pleasure of watching her suffer the exquisitely pleasurable
internal fires of lust as he toyed with her captive form. This was his
payment for her rescue from a fate she would never know existed. Bill
reached down and stroked the long fronds of silky, golden hair back
from her brow, then taking a lipstick from his equipment he carefully
drew a large crucifix on her torso. The tip of the cross ran from her lips,
down over her throat to the cleft of her widely spread crotch, whilst the
arms of the symbol ran from nipple to nipple. He leaned close to her ear
and whispered quietly to his future conquest.
"Sleep safely, sweet damsel, under the protection of the cross.”
With those parting words he left the room, pausing only to flick the
vibrators to a low level of tingling massage that played softly through
her nether regions and wooed her into a warm, pleasantly erotic
slumber.
– Death of a Daemon
Bill rose early the next day feeling tired and drawn. His sleep had been
fitful as he thought continuously of the helplessly prepared woman in
the next room. It had been impossible to erase the image of that
succulent well of ecstasy from his thoughts as he visualised her lying
opened and helpless. But the arousing images of his thoughts were not
entirely to blame for his restlessness. There was something else; an
indefinable feeling of disaster that refused to take form was casting
dark shadows of doom in the far reaches of his mind.
In the early hours of the morning sleep had put these denizens of the
dark side to rest as his mentally exhausted mind sank into the enveloping shrouds of unconsciousness. He would have slept much later had
it not been for the bright shafts of light through the uncurtained
window opening. Once awake, his thoughts immediately sprang to the
woman next door. He rose rapidly, now fully awake and entered the
cool dimness of Eleanora's room, a room as yet untouched by the early
morning sun.
She lay as he had left her, skin glistening softly with a slight perspiration as she continued her night-long undulations of pleasure. The
vibrators had not fired her to the mind bending levels of her previous
stimulation, but had instead kept her simmering gently in the first
glorious levels of an awakening arousal. Her sleep had been deep and
untroubled as she bathed in the glow of sexual tranquillity flowing
through her fettered form.
At first she had fought the tingling fingers of eroticism and strained
against her bonds, but then as the futility of her resistance became
apparent she had opened her being to the ministrations of this Almighty being who had deemed her worthy of his attentions. Eleanora
not been disappointed when his perceived skilful ministrations had
continually bathed her in a sea of pleasant sensation.
Bill moved over and stared down at her rippling form, his eyes
travelling slowly from face to breasts, breasts to mons, and on down her
lithe, fettered limbs. As he gazed down Bill knew at once how a sculptor
or artist must feel, struggling to capture the indefinable quality of grace
and perfection that only a female could possess. In an instant, he knew
that they would never succeed. No inanimate substance could trap this
combination of body and soul that made up the essence of a living
vibrant woman.
A sound behind caused him to turn as Eleanora's parents timidly
entered and stood nervously in his presence. Bill felt slightly annoyed
at their intrusion into his world of private thought and gruffly ordered
them to release her. He watched as the bonds fell away then quickly
shackled her fine delicate wrists behind her with padded manacles.
The parents looked worried, but upon seeing their daughter's trust in
her saviour they resisted the urge to ask why she needed to be
restrained. Bill gave orders for her to be bathed and fed, making sure
that she would only be ungagged for feeding.
“Be sure, young Eleanora, that you do not speakwhen you are ungagged
for to do so would put your parents in grave peril of inheriting the
Daemon's possessing you.”
Eleanora nodded her understanding of the danger and stood still as Bill
gave more instructions to her parents.
“The sign of the cross must be replaced as soon as she is bathed for
without its protection Eleanora will once more be dragged into the pit
of evil by her tormentors. Do not forget, for today she will be freed for
ever from their attentions."
The little family trooped out leaving Bill standing agog as he watched
Elean0ra’s naked, shackled form move gracefully down the passage;
but as he watched and savoured the thought of taking her virginity,
that same indefinable feeling of unease invaded his thoughts.
At ten o'clock his charge was returned and stood demurely shackled -
innocently confident as she awaited the final ritual that would cast out
her evil lodgers. By now she trusted him implicitly and no longer felt
fear at the thoughts of the invading spirits lying in wait within her
body. He had promised she would feel no pain and she believed him.
No longer did she feel guilty when feelings of carnal longing surged
into her for he had taught her that they were moments of beauty to be
savoured; intimate moments of union between her creator and her
physical self. And so it was that she stood fully prepared for the
Witchf'mder’s final great exorcism.
Bill waved the parents out and closed the door of the room. He had
things to prepare that no one must see if his power and mysticism were
to remain a source of wonderment to both Eleanora and the villagers.
Moving the woman to the centre of the room, he stood her on a small
pedestal and cautioned her to remain still then, as she watched apprehensively, he retrieved a small battery powered clipper from his array
of tools. Eleanora quivered slightly as he approached and the clipper
buzzed into action, unsure of what this miraculous device would do to
her. But Bill calmed her and gently grasped her hair.
Eleanora's eyes moistened as lock after lock of her beautiful crowning
glory fell to the floor, yet she stood Lmprotesting as he steadily denuded
her head. She remained stoically silent as he gently parted her legs and
paired the lush fine hair of her maidenhood from the lips of a barely
ripened pubis. Still Eleanora stood without a whimper as he replaced
the clipper with a safety razor and proceeded to reduce both her head
and pouting cleft to smooth silky expanses of youthful skin. He stood
back and surveyed his handiwork. Truly, Eleanora was the finest
example of a twenty year old woman he had ever seen. It was a fact that
the surreal image of her denuded figure surpassed anything he had
encountered before.
Patiently she waited, supremely confident that all that was happening
to her was essential in the preparations for her exorcism. There was no
doubt that she was fully convinced that her captor was endowed with
supernatural powers and therefore entitled to do with her body as he
wished.
Bill gently fitted a blindfold over her eyes then bid her open her legs still
wider. Now came the tricky part. Until now, Eleanora had never been
in a position to realise that the feeling of fullness in her lower openings
was anything more than a manifestation of either the good or evil
inhabiting her body. Fortunately, her toilet activities had been confined
to the passing of water and therefore unaffected by the huge insertion
of the dildo save for a little misdirection as the liquid was released.
Without food for two days, Eleanora had not felt the urge to use her
other facility and, hopefully, would not need to do so until her recent
meal arrived at the other end.
Reaching gently between the V of her legs, Bill released the inner cores
of both dildos and slowly slid them clear of their respective containers.
The outer casings remained in place and there was no sign from the
silent, blind Eleanora to suggest that she had any idea what the
movements in her crotch meant. The stretching fullness was still there
and all she had noticed were slight vibrations that trickled wickedly
into her very core.
Bill heaved a sigh of relief as he stooped to slide new and far more
interesting inserts into the gaping mouths of the dildo casings. Once
safely secured into place he was guaranteed to be acclaimed the
greatest Witchfinder General of all when the crowd witnessed Eleanora's
release from the clutches of evil. The inserts clicked into place and were
firmly ensconced in the warmed sheaths of their housings. Assured of 
their retention, he pulled closed the crude window shutters before
continuing with his next addition - an addition that had to be applied
in reduced light.
Bill smoothed the scented, oily liquid evenly over Eleanora’s trembling
receptive body. Not a single millimetre of her sensitive flesh was left
untouched as his sliding hands anointed her with a creation of the finest
theatrical agent in modern London. Soon she stood resplendent, a
gleaming statue that glinted erotic messages with each minute ripple
and movement. Bill was stunned by a feeling of longing that threatened
to devour his entire body in a blazing gust of superheated passion. He
was barely able to continue as the muscles of his throat contracted in
nervous tension in the face of this appallingly devastating temptation.
Reaching up, he gently snapped an ornate gilded collar around her
neck before stooping to encase her trim ankles in similar metal constraints; the ankle cuffs being joined by a glittering golden chain that
would limit her steps to tiny, tripping movements.
He was almost done now with her restraints. All that remained was to
replace the manacles with cuffs to match her other shackles, a feat
completed in seconds as she stood unresisting under his touch. Bill
removed the blindfold and allowed her to look down at the fittings she
could see. With interest, he noted the gleam of approval at his choice
and the quality of craftsmanship. He had to admit they really did look
the part. Without doubt, Eleanora looked dressed for a ritualistic
exorcism; quite apart from the fact that the items were extremely strong
and virtually unbreakable.
For a half hour Bill busied himself applying the same lipstick used for
her protective crucifix to coat her virgin lips, a decoration that Eleanora
also accepted as ritualistic markings; as she did the eyeliner, eyeshadow and blusher that he painstakingly applied to her doll-like
features - the skills of application being painstakingly learned on a shop
dummy four hundred years into the future. The final item was ready
for insertion as Bill eased the present stifling ball from her mouth and
replaced it with a softer yet no less filling gag of immense proportions;
and infinitely more interesting content.
Eleanora was ready. Never had such an apparition of heady erotica
been so prepared and available, nor so devastatingly innocent and
naive as to not consider her infinitely desirable vulnerability. Bill
groaned inwardly as she impishly tested her bonds and conveyed her
helplessness to the man she needed so desperately. But the time had yet
to come. Eleanora had much more to experience before he could
contemplate such carnal delights.
Stooping, he picked up a coil of glinting iridescent gilded rope and then
snapping a leash to her collar, eased her down from the pedestal and
over towards the door. Eleanora baulked slightly as she realised that
she was to be taken out in public, leashed, shackled and denuded; but
his firm yet gentle pull eased her coyly into the open.
A gasp went up from the gathering as her gleaming, oiled figure
stepped from the shadows of the door. Her mother's hand flew to her
mouth as she stifled a wail and held back the tears of emotion that were
flooding her eyes. Her little daughter had been transformed from an
innocent young woman into a sylph-like goddess of erotic excess.
Bill proudly paraded his short-stepping, chained creation of love
around the square, occasionally darting looks to his charge and noting
the flushes of arousal as she smarted under the adoring glances of the
menfolk.
The circuit complete, she was handed to the Elders along with the rope
as they took her for final preparation. The form of her exorcism had
already been decreed by the Witchfinder General and the men knew
exactly what was required of them as they led the apprehensive damsel
to a sturdy post at the centre of the square.
Pressed with her back to the hard oak, Eleanora stood still as the golden
cords began to cinch her tightly to the post. The rope seemed endless
as inch by inch the tight encircling coils climbed up her body, the final
bands eventually holding her head back rigidly as the coils passed over
her forehead. She squirmed slightly but could find no respite from the
fearsome grip of those bonds. Whatever her fate was to be, she now
knew that there was no return. Her life and body were fully committed
to the safe keeping of the Witchfinder General.
Nervously, Eleanora watched as he approached and locking eyes she
was comforted by a confident appraisal of her restraint. He was
pleased! Everything was as he had directed, and being so, she felt sure
that he would succeed in freeing her from her satanic tormentors.
She saw him look at the strange device on his wrist and noted the slight
frown forming on his features. Eleanora could not know that this
device was a watch that informed him that his time was running out.
Hurriedly, Bill assembled the crowd behind him. He had minutes to
explain and then start his ritualistic utterings before the clock ran down
on his preparations and an unstoppable chemical reaction started.
“We must now wait for the Almighty to enter Eleanora's body and
protect her from the evil one as we drive him out. He is weakened but
still dangerous,” he warned.
"Do not step inside the circle I have marked if you value your soul.” The
crowd shuffled and adjusted their feet to be well clear of the dividing
line between sanity and the screaming devils of hell. Now all stood
silent as Eleanora was lifted, pole and all, and inverted before the pole
was relocated in its hole.
All present saw the quivers of fear ripple her body as she began her
lonely helpless vigil at the centre of that empty circle. For minutes
nothing happened, then suddenly she was aware of a warm tingling
glow spreading over her entire form. The fear welled in her body as she
contemplated the imminent occupation of her form by the entity of her
creator.
Bill stood entranced as the chemical reaction created by the ultra violet
of strong sunlight began to react with the phosphorous and metallic
particles in the body oil of his captive. Eleanora was beginning to glitter
and glow from head to foot with an eerie sparkling glow. A passing
cloud cast dark shadows on the scene and enhanced the growth of this
apparently supernatural light. He flicked on the vibrators and watched
intently as she began to squirm with the passion of her arousal. The
novelty of her inverted exhibition was sufficient to overcome any
thoughts of embarrassment as she performed for the stunned audience.
Her movements increased and with them the glow of incandescence as
her body temperature rose and fuelled the oil still further. Glints and
flashes sparkled from the gilded rope as her straining form thrashed in
its embrace and the silence was shattered as Bill’s loud incantations
rolled across the square.
His voice rose steadily in tempo and tenor as he worked the crowd and
led them towards a common peak of fervour. Eleanora became delirious as the combined effects of her bondage stimulus and her enforced
inverted exhibition to the crowd fuelled the furnace within.
Bill's oratorical skills led her to a natural, unavoidable climax of
immense strength and cataclysmic orgasmic thrashing as her denuded
love lips gushed a torrent of fluid. With the sound of her loud wail of
muffled ecstasy echoing across the square, Bill pressed the final button
of his display.
Deep within Elean0ra's clenching channels, minute circuits clicked
into action and released the pent-up pressure of miniature phials of
compressed gas.
The crowd wailed in fear as thick tenuous tentacles of bright green gas
began to pour from Eleanora's mouth and the two lower openings of
the trussed woman's inverted body. Soon the trailing gaseous snakes
combined to form a heavy dense cloud that slowly rose towards the
sky. Whilst below, Eleanora's body relaxed from its exertions at the
same time as her openings ceased their outpourings. The cloud appeared to change colour and began to twist and turn like a demented
beast as it was melted by the rays of the sun.
“Behold!” shouted Bill. “Behold the power of the Almighty as he
destroys the beasts of darkness with his swords of light.”
The crowd stood silent and shocked as they witnessed the destruction
of the evil one they feared most.
The final wisp of the evil entity dissipated in the air and the stunned
crowd returned their gaze to the silent still form of the glowing
Eleanora. A few moved forward as if to release her, but were halted by
Bill's warning.
“Stop! Do not touch her whilst the Almighty still resides within her
mortal body. If you touch her, his power will destroy you both.”
Bill knew the chemical effect would take several hours to subside and
he didn't want any of the villagers glowing with the still active
chemical. Besides, the waning reaction would allow ample time for him
to stand and savour her helpless demise as she remained firmly
secured for his appreciative gaze. As it transpired, he was rewarded
with a display lasting some four hours as the damsel Eleanora struggled with her bonds. He toyed with her using the hidden tools of his
vibrators and delighted in the wet streaks of arousal that lined her
stomach as her juices of arousal ran freely. Throughout her ordeal, he
could see that her eyes were fixed on his as she thrashed in a half
demented orgy of arousal. The moment he had waited so long to enjoy
was fast approaching as he feasted his gaze on her smooth hairless love
lips pouting impotently at the sky and the surreal spectre of her shaved
head. A helpless virgin prepared and ready, boiling with her own lust;
the same lust that would catapult her into his embrace the moment he
chose to indulge himself.
The glow was dimming and Bill wound her vibrators up to a devastating peak as he wrung the last vestiges of resistance from her wriggling
form. Wide pleading eyes and wildly straining limbs heralded the final
explosion of orgasmic fury within her fettered body as the glow
dimmed and finally winked out.
The crowd rushed forward and gently released the exhausted woman
from her long ordeal on the pole, but before they could remove her
shackles Bill intervened.
“Take the damsel to her room and shackle her as she was last night,” he
ordered. “There is but one final deed that must be done before I
depart.”
There were no arguments as Eleanora was led away to her final ordeal.
The look she cast as she was coaxed into motion by her leash assured
Bill that if she had not already guessed what it would be, she was
desperately hoping that it was as she needed!
Parents and Elders gathered around him as her shackled figure dwindled into the distance and vanished into the gloom of the cottage, each
tiny restricted step and flexing lobe of buttock being savoured by the
watching males as they contemplated her helpless, shackled form.
Bill explained his requirements.
“The Almighty has left the power in her body, a power I must possesses
to continue his work.”
He paused as he saw the steady realisation begin to creep into the
listening faces of the attentive audience and he hastened to allay their
fears.
“Her consent is essential for the power to be passed,” he added.
“Without that, it would be pointless for the power would be impure.”
The concern in the listening faces vanished and in the eyes of her
parents he detected a willingness to ensure that his wishes were
fulfilled. Without further ado, they all trooped into the cool interior of
Eleanora's room as the final fastenings drew her into a taut, offered star.
Her face became alarmed as she saw the serious looks on the faces of her
admirers and she almost jumped as the Elder leaned down to speak
quietly into her ear. Eleanora’s eyes travelled first from her parents and
then back to Bill as the extent of her co-operation was explained. She
looked back to her parents as the old man finished and withdrew,
searching their faces for a clue as to their thoughts. She was rewarded
by the slow nods of approval from both of her guardians. A great sigh
welled up from within as the pathway to her fulfilment was cleared of
all obstacles.
One of the men tried to remove her gag, but the hand of the Elder stayed
his arm as the nodding head of the captive woman answered all in a
simple gesture. Bill explained that Eleanora was to remain silenced and
secured, for in this way the Almighty would consider that her spiritual
virginity was still intact. She was helpless and unable to prevent the
removal of her most treasured possession. She would be powerless to
prevent her de-flowerin g and therefore not guilty of promiscuity in the
eyes of the Lord.
All eyes turned to the fettered maiden, feasting on her availability as
she squirmed in her bonds. Eleanora felt her skin burn under the
jealous gaze of those men who would not be sampling her offered form;
yet at the same time she was excited by her helpless, blatant display and
the power of her bound image over these strong men.
No one seemed prepared to break away from this carnally inviting
sight until her parents started the move towards the door. Bill stayed
with eyes riveted to her body, his eyes noting the birth of tiny flexing
movements in her lower torso and the quickening of breath as she
sensed the approach of her de-flowering. Her eyes momentarily fixed
on his own, then broke away in embarrassment as a warm trickle of
fluid slowly rolled from her mons. Bill smiled down at her and running
his finger through the hot syrupy liquid he leaned forward with his
glistening finger and gently anointed each of her pert nipples with her
own balm.
- Birth of a Legend
Silently the group filed out, reverently closing the door behind them as
they left the virgin damsel to her fate. Bill turned to his prize and slowly
began to shed his garments as he studied her taut body - glad that he
had waited for this supreme moment. Eleanora gave vent to a huge
groan of feeling as the vision of his rampant manhood sprang into view
and stood out straight from his body in preparation for her penetration.
Naked and ready, Bill slowly moved over her form and bridged her on
hands and knees. He looked into her eyes and saw the look of pleading
as she arched towards his shaft. But Bill wasn't ready. She must beg! He
wanted to hear the desperately pleading entreaties of a woman driven
to despair by her raging lust. His fantasies demanded that her struggles
fed sounds of anguished leather to his ears as the straps stretched to
breaking point with her efforts to reach her fulfilment.
He reached over her head and pulled sharply on the self locking
adjusters of the straps. Eleanora groaned as the last vestiges of movement were snatched from her grasp and she was tensioned into
stringent submission. Hot rivers of fluid seeped from her widely
offered pubis sending shivers of feeling running through her inner
thighs as their eyes met in a flash of mutual passion.
His hand moved up and kneaded her receptive breast, then shifting
across sent tingling electric shocks racing through her body as he
trapped the nipple between two fingers. Eleanora strained upwards
towards the shaft she knew was there, but her bonds denied her the
touch she so desperately needed.
Bill's hand moved again and as it snaked between her thighs she felt his
fingers probe gently into her slick love nest. A gasp sounded as he
withdrew the hidden monster that had been filling her so full for the
past days, but she was unable to see her tormentor as he threw it into
his bag of tricks. The rear invader soon followed and Eleanora was left
with an empty feeling that could only be slaked by the real shaft of her
new tormentor.
The hand returned to her breast drawing snorts of air from her flaring
nostrils as the searing bite of arousal burned through her body. Her
eyes closed and she was unprepared as he lowered his mouth to her
other turgid nodule. She felt her body expand in explosive feeling as his
tongue teased and chased the vibrant nipple in a game of exquisite
feeling. Eleanora was frantic. She must have that waiting rod of
orgasmic release; he could not deny what she had earned. It was hers,
she had paid the dues; now he must allow her the fruits of her
endeavours.
Bill's hand left her breast and traced a tingling line slowly down the
curving softness of her belly then, reaching her mound, his fingers
skilfully, wilfully began darting in and out of her saturated cleft in
series of devastating exploratory forays.
Her movements became frantic jerking struggles as she tore at her
bonds in an effort to reach that maddeningly distant shaft of joy, then
thwarted in her efforts she lay still as their eyes locked in an embrace
of emotion. Bill saw her desperate pleading looks and heard her
plaintiff muffled pleas for fulfilment. He decided that the time had
come!
He lowered his body and felt the tip of his bloated manhood nuzzle at
the lips of her drenched cleft. The sexual mouth twitched and tried to
suck him into its warm inviting depths as he taunted and withdrew.
She followed him upward, but again was cheated by the taut straps as
she thrashed impotently out of reach. He teased her and slid the
bulbous hardened helmet of his shaft through the slick crease of herjoin
and felt her tremble with the power of her need. Eleanora heaved
against the straps, her head thrashing from side to side in futile
movements of despair. The eyes were now imploring him; begging
unreservedly as she capitulated to his control of her raging lust. She
was finally his, body and soul. His to savour as he had never savoured
a woman before. He moved closer and Eleanora’s body seemed to
expand with the realisation that her release from torment was at hand.
She lay still and responsive to his requirements as he located the
awesome tip of his shaft carefully into her virgin nest. Then he paused
to look down into her beseeching eyes and seeing her need he began to
push into her quivering love shaft with irresistible power. Eleanora's
eyes widened, her pupils darting from side to side as his massive bulk
levered her open like an advancing juggernaut. It was impossible, she
would surely split in two as the mighty wedge drove between her legs.
Her delicate nostrils flared and great blasts of hot air wafted against his
chest as he bored remorselessly inward to her distant core. Inexorably,
the invading pole slid forward, stretching out the delicate tissues of her
inner channel and bulldozing the last remnants of her maidenhood into
shattered ruins. Eleanora screamed into the gag, her overwhelming
feelings of lustful needs reaching volcanic proportions as she boiled
and seethed in a sea of ecstatic arousal. Like never before she felt
possessed; owned - a slave to that massive boring monolith of pulsing
manhood now reaching deep into the farthest reaches of her body. She
could feel the powerful surges of his blood as his heart raced to
maintain this massive erection and she felt as one when her own
throbbing surges matched his, pulse for pulse.
The shaft began to move, gently withdrawing with maddening slowness, then returning to ream her in a series of devastating strokes. On
and on the cyclic torment continued as his root crushed her clitoris with
an all-consuming feeling of lust. His tempo increased in time with her
own rising climax as the powerful urges of nature wrested control from
both bodies. Bill reached up and wound his hands into the loops of the
straps’ loose ends, then using this new purchase he thrust deeply into
her body. His effort drew even more leather through the retainers and
strained Eleanora into a vibrating sheet of helpless sinew and tantalising vulnerability.
Madly they clashed and meshed. Eleanora jerked frenziedly against
the restraints as Bill released his grip on the tensioners holding her slim
nubile body in a grasp of iron, his thrusting manhood powering deeper
and deeper with each shattering drive. The final explosion was upon
them before they even realised and they surged into a shattering
climatic union as Eleanora felt her body torn between the unyielding
restraints and Bill's clutching grasp in his fight to grip her closer. She
was but a rag doll being shredded between three forces - leather, lust
and her lover!
Silence reigned. The creaking leather and sounds of stifled ecstatic
gasps of joy were stilled as they basked in the warm inviting aftermath
of orgasm. For maybe an hour they remained coupled as they drifted
together in a semi sleep.
Bill, sensing that she had finally drifted deeper into the world of
dreams, carefully extracted his waning shaft of manhood to the tune of
soft moans of pleasure from his prize. Without awakening her, he
climbed from the bed and quietly dressed before gathering his equipment and stashing it in the bag. It was time to leave. He had lived his
dream and the damsel was safe from harm. Now he must return from
whence he came and leave her to live the full life she so richly deserved.
He took one last look at her tethered form and allowed his eyes to roam
over her tautly stretched body, drinking in the exquisite curves and
mounds of her offered form. He sighed and cursed himself for the
practical fool that he was before turning wistfully to leave.
The Elders and her parents were waiting patiently outside as he left and
as he walked towards them his face told them that his mission had been
successful. The parents glowed with pleasure, for to have such a
powerful and knowledgeable - possibly divine - being de-flower their
daughter was an honour that would stand the whole family in good
stead for generations to come.
Bill faced the father and started to make his farewells.
”Tis time for my departure, my mission is fulfilled. Your daughter is
now safe from the ravages of Satan and will remain so forever, I bid
you...”
His voice trailed away as the listeners began to back off with looks of
incredulous disbelief on their faces and looking down to the source of
their consternation he saw that his arm was fading into invisibility. A
cold fear gripped his mind as too late he understood the cause. At this
very moment, a single seed of his love-making was creeping into a
waiting egg in the womb of the sleeping Eleanora. That single sperm
was eradicating his existence as it altered the ancient roots of his
beginnings. With Eleanora alive, his ancestral great, great, great, etc.
grandfather would marry Eleanora's female offspring instead of the
woman he would have married had Eleanora and Bill not sired a
daughter. There was only one way he could save his very existence -but
Bill knew he could never change the course of history back by the death
of his beloved Eleanora.
His form slowly dissipated before the watching Elders, who were
puzzled as they perceived a wry smile on the face of the Witchfinder
General. They couldn't know that as his memories and the very essence
of his being began to dissolve, Bill found himself thinking that it had all
been worth his sacrifice. He was unaware that the quirks of nature were
at this very moment transferring his personal life force and deepest
thoughts to a new line of Quails as the tiny egg in Eleanora’s spreadeagled form took on a life of its own.
The gathering watched until all trace of their divine visitor had gone,
each and every detail of his visit now etched forever on their minds. In
times to come, they would tell the tale to their grandchildren and they
in turn to theirs. Generation after generation would each add its own
embellishments to the tale until the being of Bill Quail assumed the
stature of a God, for this is how legends are born.
Nine months later, the maiden Eleanora gave birth to a daughter. The
daughter grew into a beautiful woman who matched her mother's
splendour in every way. But from an early age, something about the
child bothered Eleanora and many times she would find her young
daughter studying a piece of rope or laying spread-eagled on the bed.
Occasionally, she would find that the child had wrapped herself tightly
in skins and would refuse to come out. It was as if she were trying to
unravel a distant memory that was niggling in the back of her mind.
Eleanora decided that whatever the cause, she was the only one who
would ever understand this strange preoccupation with containment.
As a result, the fair maiden never wed. Instead, she chose to lavish all
her care on the offspring of her first encounter.
Many vied for her favours, but few were chosen to share her bed. And
whilst she enjoyed the attentions of the few, none would ever rekindle
the fire of true ecstasy she had shared with the Witchfinder General.
 * * * * *
REBECCA
This story is dedicated to Nichola, a real woman who lost her legs and
was paralysed in a car accident. A woman who asked me to write a
bondage story for a disabled women who once enjoyed the sport with all
her limbs and mobility. Hopefully, she has enjoyed this tale.
Until that fateful day, Rebecca's life had seemed set on a normal and
fruitful course. Her upcoming marriage to a wealthy, handsome tycoon was the ideal union for an exquisitely beautiful girl like herself,
especially in view of the fact that her tastes were expensive. The truth
was that Rebecca, although not exactly repulsed by her suitor, could
not find it within herself to fall in love with the man. Something was
missing. ]ust what it was, she wasn’t sure. Va guely, she had the feeling
that he was just too adoring; too gentle and doting; altogether too good
to be true. Her subconscious couldn't seem to shake off the image of
having a partner who controlled her - owned every fibre of her being,
used her for his toy.
Her choice in marriage was far from these ideal thoughts, but then
again he Was disgustingly rich. Fate, however, was about to deal a
crushing blow to Rebecca's plans for a rich, idle existence and as she left
the shop after her final fitting for the wedding gown, the seemingly
cruel forces of life began to grind into action.
Rebecca never even heard the approaching vehicle as she stepped out
onto the crossing; nor did the shouts of waming register until scant
micro-seconds separated her from the speeding car and its drunken
driver. The impact, when it came, was painless. A loud, roaring crash
sounded in her head as the mass of steel smashed into her frail form and
bludgeoned her to the ground. She never even felt the searing pain as
her body was dragged along before vanishing beneath the car, and
mercifully she was spared the terrible agony as her flailing arms caught
a whirling prop-shaft and were pulverised into flaccid tentacles of
flesh. The bone crushing impact as thighs were crushed under the rear
wheels was heard only by the sickened onlookers as they saw the
broken doll that had been Rebecca reappear from the rear of the car,
rolling over and over like a bundle of rags. They watched in horror as
the vehicle sped off, leaving a pathetic mound of silent womanhood
lying huddled in the road.
Tom Cheney, the surgeon, stared hopelessly at the shattered body
lying on the gurney. Stripped of her shredded garments and cleaned
for his inspection, Rebecca lay unconscious as he contemplated the
wreckage of life and limb.
Miraculously, there were only minor internal injuries and the beautiful
face and shapely torso would soon heal the livid bruising without
permanent marking. The long, elegant legs and her graceful arms were,
however, a totally different story. Tom knew without further checking
that the repair of her limbs would at best leave her with horribly
deformed, grotesque appendages that would serve only as units to fill
her clothes and would be useless for all other intents and purposes. A
further consideration was the high risk of infection or cardiac failure
and death from the terrible pain she would endure whilst they were
healing.
His eyes were moist as he contemplated the other alternative. Did he
have the right to condemn this woman to a life of horror - a life as a
hopeless cripple pitied by all who saw her? Tom dug deep into his mind
for the strength to do what he knew he must do. He would operate, but
he considered it might be an act of mercy to ensure that she passed into
the oblivion of death whilst she slumbered painlessly under the anaesthetic. He turned to the nurse and instructed her to begin the preparations for surgery then, turning back, he was stunned as he saw Rebecca's
eyes wide open and fixed on his.
Tom went into a state of shock. He felt himself being inexorably pulled
into the deep pools of those beautiful eyes; his body turned to stone as
the sensuous mouth tried to form words from a bruised larynx. In an
instant, he knew that he would never be able to end her suffering as he
had planned. He reached out and soothed her brow. Tingling sensations burned his fingers as he touched her smooth, peach-like skin. In
that split second he knew without doubt that he had fallen madly in
love with this pathetically crippled woman.
The eyes remained boring into his own as Rebecca tried to convey some
vital message, then as the drug began to take effect he watched the
shining vibrant eyes dim as she drifted into a world devoid of pain.
The nurses wheeled Rebecca's sleeping form away and Tom walked
into the scrub-up room to prepare. His thoughts were in turmoil as he
unconsciously carried out the routine of preparation. Assistant surgeons present in the room spoke to him; but their voices were unheard
as he wrestled with his dilemma - unaware of the strange looks passing
between his colleagues as they tried to decipher his silence.
Suddenly, Tom's face took on a resolute look. The answer was clear in
his mind as he donned the offered gown. He was the best in the
business when it came to plastic surgery and his assistant Peter
Macdonald was acknowledged to be the most skilful orthopaedic
surgeon in the country.
Turning to Peter, he hesitated slightly before confiding his innermost
thoughts and plans to his friend and partner. Peter listened intently - he
was also having similar thoughts regarding the moral ethics of repairing such a horribly damaged woman. It was therefore with some relief
that he absorbed Tom's revelations and then, with enthusiasm, listened
to a solution that was both ethically and morally acceptable; indeed
desirable, if this young lady was to have any sort of life from this day
onward.
The operation took eleven and a half hours, during which time both
surgeons employed every ounce of their skill and knowledge to complete the task they had set themselves. Tom was a fiend for perfection.
He personally inspected every small detail during the operation. Every
smashed bone had been trimmed to an accuracy measured in fractions
of a millimetre. 
Drifting in a world of hazy, pain-free drug induced sleep, Rebecca was
nurtured for two days by attentive nurses as implants were rapidly
manufactured to exact specifications by the hospital laboratory. The
silicone implants specified by Tom were tailored to the finest degree of
fit possible - and when Rebecca was returned to his theatre, he began
the painstaking task of masking Peter's internal handicraft and repairing the awesome damage to her delicate shape. Flesh and skin were
trimmed and sutured with infinite care. Peter, only a bystander in the
plastic surgery phase, advised on shaping of hidden bones that would
affect the overall effect once the swelling of injury subsided. It was a
joining of minds in a single, great surgical adventure that had, at best,
a fifty-fifty chance of success. But at least they tried. No matter the end
result, neither could be accused of not giving their all.
Finally, the exhausted pair stood back. Everything that was humanly
possible had been done. Rebecca was in the hands of the Gods. No one
could have done more to give her a life with meaning. The nurses,
themselves exhausted, looked down on her anaesthetised form and
more than one of them felt a surge of indescribable feeling as they
studied the finished product.
The weeks passed and Rebecca lay in a world of painless, semianaesthetised sleep as her body mended. Tended only by silent,
dedicated nurses, she was given the best attention possible. Visitors
weren't allowed during this stage; nor was the full extent of her injuries
disclosed to her impatient fiance. Tom wanted her to be fully recovered
and looking her best before anyone approached her. He felt she would
need every morsel of help she could get to overcome the traumatic
realisation of her return to the land of the living.
Meanwhile, Rebecca was still unaware of the hideous injuries she had
sustained as she lay slumbering, and oblivious to the terrible truth.
Some seven Weeks elapsed and, after carefully checking the healing
scars, Tom began to reduce the pain-killing, sleep inducing injections;
Watching anxiously as, day by day, slight movements and murmured
sounds bespoke her returning consciousness. One morning, some fifty
three days after she had been so savagely mutilated by the errant car,
Rebecca's eyes snapped fully open for the first time since that terrible
day.
Tom was there, as he had been for many days; waiting for the moment
he'd dreaded. Now he would find out if he had made the right decision.
He watched with apprehension as Rebecca wriggled slightly, testing
her new found awareness; shrugging off the lingering effects of her
drugged sleep. A smile creased her pale face as she saw the concerned
looks of her surgeon saviour and, feeling no pain, she tried to sit up. A
puzzled frown clouded her face as she realised that she couldn't rise
and she allowed Tom's gentle hand pressure on her shoulder to ease
her arching body back down to rest on the bed.
”Don’t try to get up,” he warned in a soft caring voice. “We have a lot
to talk about as soon as you feel up to it.”
Rebecca's voice was dry and cracked as she spoke.
“What happened, where am I?” she asked, trying to gather her jumbled
thoughts and make sense of vague recollections of seeing Tom's face
somewhere else.
“You're in hospital," he informed her. “You were hit by a car and badly
injured, ” he continued in a voice that threatened to crack with emotion.
Rebecca sensed there was something terribly wrong and felt a sudden
chill pass through her body. She tried to reach down and scratch an
irritating itch on her left leg, but once again found that she couldn't
move her arm.
“Oh! My God! I’m paralysed!” she voiced aloud, then stopped as she
saw Tom shake his head. She looked at him questioningly and asked
him if he could scratch that infernal itch on her calf. Tom didn’t move
and seemed unsure what to do or say next. Rebecca watched as he
struggled with some internal problem, then steelecl herself for the
worse as he summoned up the strength to reveal whatever was
bothering him.
“Rebecca, I... I can't scratch your leg, you see... you...”
The words were painfully slow in coming and Rebecca could see the
emotion Welling up to form a block in his throat.
"You don't have a left leg any more!"
The words had come out in a rush, and Rebecca lay stunned as she
absorbed the impact of this revelation.
Tom leaned forward and took her gently by the shoulders, tears now
streaming from his eyes as he continued.
“I'm sorry, so sorry! But you have no limbs at all... any more!”
A hideous fear flooded Rebecca’s shocked mind as she struggled to
come to terms with the unbelievable horror of her plight. Bewilderment mercifully shielded her from the full effects of his words and she
lay still and hardly hearing as he continued.
“We had no choice, if you were to live...”
Venomously, Rebecca lashed out with the only weapon she had! Her
voice was scathing and accusing. She had to strike back at the terribly
cruel hand of fate that had taken her ability to enjoy life with one single,
vicious stroke.
"Then why the hell didn't you just let me die, you bastard,” she
snapped out, glaring angrily at Tom. Instantly, she regretted her
outburst for she could see the deep hurt her remark had inflicted. For
some unfathomable reason she felt her anger dissolve into compassion
for the man who had obviously suffered great torment of mind in his
battle between the ethics of his profession and her own future. The dam
broke and all the bottled-up fear and fury of her plight burst forth as she
began to sob uncontrollably. Tom was there comforting her, holding
her and joining in her tears, until many hours later she sank into a
troubled sleep.
Some two days elapsed and Tom, unable to restrain an impatient fiance
any further was forced to admit him to see his bride—to-be. He tried to
prepare the man for the shock of that first encounter with a difficult
disclosure in his study as he outlined the extent of Rebecca's injuries.
But as they made their way to her bedside he knew that the man hadn't
really absorbed the full impact of the scene awaiting him.
As they entered, Tom saw the tiny pathetic shape of Rebecca almost
fearfully hiding behind the rumpled bed clothes that hid her depleted
form. With horror, he also saw the look of pity and revulsion in the eyes
of her groom. Oh! God, the fool! The last thing she needed to see now
was pity.
The visit was short and difficult and Tom could sense that Rebecca's
fiance was looking for the earliest excuse to leave. He could also see the
same feelings in the helpless woman's eyes. Rebecca knew it was all
over with this man and just wanted him to leave - and leave he finally
did - never to return.
More weeks passed as Rebecca struggled to come to terms with her
plight. The nurses watched her sink gradually into a state of catatonic
indifference to her surroundings as the ever present Tom fussed
around her, checking and double checking the rapidly healing wounds
- wounds that by now were virtually invisible thanks to his skill with
a scalpel.
Slowly Rebecca became aware that Tom's attention was something
more than that of a conscientious doctor and could feel the warmth of
his presence whenever he was near. She began to study him at length
as he fussed with her useless body and slowly she perceived a caring
that surpassed anything she had ever experienced before.
Tom almost jumped with fright when one morning, as he removed the
final dressings, Rebecca actually started a conversation for the first time
since hearing of her disabilities.
“Bring me a mirror, please.”
It was a no compromise request.
“I want to see what I look like!”
Tom baulked for a moment, but seeing her obvious agitation, he
eventually capitulated.
"Make it a large one!”
Tom returned some ten minutes later and holding the reflective side of
the mirror to his body, he approached the bed.
“Are you sure you're ready?”
He threw her a worried look. Rebecca screwed up her courage before
looking him straight in the eye and answering.
“I have to see what I've got left to live with eventually, so why not now?
Pull the sheets off and let me look! ”
Tom carefully peeled back the sheets then, after hesitating for a few
seconds, he reversed the mirror and held it horizontally above her
truncated form, His eyes fearfully scanned her face for the expected
reaction.
Rebecca's eyes gave nothing away as they traversed the mirror’s
surface and surveyed the reflection of her body. At first it was a shock
to realise that the image of that limbless torso was that of her own. As
she studied it further, a strange warm feeling began to steal through her
lower body. Tom"s skills had been used to the full. Where once had
sprouted long, sylph-like legs, there were now round domes of continued buttocks that curved gracefully around to frame her pouting love
nest. Her armpits had been carefully re-shaped with internal silicone
implants to form a smooth continuation of the sweeping lines from her
hour-glass waist to her graceful shoulders. Without this careful reconstruction, the removal off her arms would have left her with a narrowing form topped with two hideous cavities that had been her armpits.
Incredulously, she tried to locate the scars of surgery but was unable to
pick out the healed hairlines of Tom's handiwork. It was if she had been
born like this. Rebecca was stunned by the sheer exotic artistry that
Tom's skilled hands had produced and, as she turned her eyes to his,
she noticed that he was looking at her lower body.
Feelings of guilt flitted through her mind as she realised that the image
of her helpless availability had engineered a serious moistening of her
blatantly exposed and vulnerable mons. She was unsure of how to
continue as she realised that his continued stare was causing her juices
of arousal to flow copiously. Silently, Rebecca watched as his eyes
followed the trickling progress of her passion. Magically, they appeared from her cleft like fresh dew-drops and rolled slowly down the
smooth curves of her newly re-sculpted nether regions. Deep within
Tom knew he had made the right decision all those weeks ago.
Flushed and embarrassed, Rebecca's form wriggled sensuously as
Tom placed the mirror at the side of the bed and reaching down, drew
his finger through the outer reaches of her love tube. He studied his Wet
finger at length before turning his eyes towards her face.
Their eyes met and locked, neither daring to speak their thoughts as the
obvious implications of Rebecca's arousal became apparent to both.
Tom smiled as he spoke.
“We have things to talk about I think, young lady, but not now. The
nurses will be back soon.”
Rebecca nodded slowly. For the first time since learning of her injuries,
she felt there was a future after all.
“Better clean up this little leak you have here,” Tom joked, nodding
towards the glistening lips of her sexual opening. That was easier said
than done. No sooner had Tom applied a swab to her mound, then the
liquid began to flow with renewed vigour. "Rebecca shifted her body,
unable to suppress the fires that were roaring within as his strong
nimble fingers manipulated her superheated crotch. He gave up the
unequal battle with the forces invading her nubile body and without
further consultation began to stem the flow with a host of wadded
swabs.
Rebecca moaned softly as her pussy began to swell with the steadily
increasing mass of stretching material being gently inserted into her
hot slick opening. Tom, seemingly satisfied at last, stepped back,
leaving her thoroughly plugged and moaning provocatively. He covered her form with the sheets. An arm, either by mistake or design,
brushed her erect nipples drawing a sharp hissing breath of approval
from Rebecca's lips. Again their eyes locked, but the sound of approaching nurses sounded in the corridor and prevented either taking
the moment further. Tom blew her a kiss and Rebecca almost swooned
as she contemplated what he had in mind for her in the future. Her eyes
closed lightly as she savoured that moment of blissful sensation.
Tom left the room as the nurses entered, his mind in a turmoil as he also
contemplated the future; a future that he had planned but never dared
to hope would materialise. Iauntily, he strode down the corridor
leaving the object of his thoughts to the caring hands of the nurses. Had
he known just how caring, he would never have left.
Nervously, the two nurses approached the faintly squirming Rebecca,
still lying with eyes closed and luxuriating in the feelings of warmth
and well being nurtured by Tom's packing of her orifice.
The taller of the two women looked nervously over at her colleague as
she withdrew a pre-cut length of surgical tape from her apron pocket
and approached the slowly undulating Rebecca.
Rebecca’s eyes snapped open as the tape suddenly sealed her lips.
Frantic guffaws of panic sounded through the clinging material as she
attempted to raise the alarm - but to no avail. The tape held her lips
firmly shut and defied all efforts to remove it.
She watched fearfully as the two women ignored her for the moment
and began to clear a small surgical trolley of its equipment. The top
soon cleared, they turned and approached her once more. Rebecca
struggled as best she could, but could only manage a series of wriggling
undulations that did nothing to deter the two nurses. They lifted her
from the bed and carried her to the trolley, the elder of the two trying
to calm her frantic, useless struggles with soothing words.
"Trust us, young lady, it's for your own good. We’re going to try and
give you a reason for living again.”
Rebecca was helpless to resist as they deposited her on the trolley, and
with a large roll of the surgical tape began to band her truncated form
tightly down onto its surface.
Soon she lay still, her frantic body-bending reduced to zero by the taut
multi-layered bands of tape now passing over her mouth, throat, waist
and below her bust. Fearfully, she eyed the two Women as they
positioned themselves on either side of her and with a sense of dread
she saw the smirk pass between them as she resumed her struggles.
Rebecca didn’t know what to expect, but whatever it was, she was
totally unprepared for the incredibly sensuous feelings that invaded
her body as the women's mouths closed onto the peaks of her breasts.
A muffled gasp escaped the securely sealed lips, growing to a groan as
silky tongues began to tease her erect nipples. She had never been
touched in this way by a woman before, and until now would have felt
revulsion at the mere thought of it. But as she lay helplessly beneath
their manipulating tongues, she couldn’t deny the indescribable pleasure their actions were nurturing within her trussed, helpless form.
Hands began to steal across the surface of her body. inexorably, they
were approaching the fully awakened mound at her base, until with
exquisite joy she felt the first fingers touch her engorged love lips and
begin to stroke the taut receptive surface. The fingers grew more
daring, and locating the nodule of her clitoris, they began to roll its
stiffening projection between practised fingers.
Rebecca found her sexual spring was being wound to unprecedented
levels, the outcome of which could only be a sudden carnal release of
cataclysmic proportions. It no longer mattered that women were the
instigators. All that mattered was the release of the boiling torment of
ecstasy that was exploding within her body. The fact that no woman
had ever been so impossibly helpless in the hands of a captor served
only to pour fuel on the furnace within.
The nurses toiled onward, increasing their stimulation to match the
rising level of animated eroticism that was straining their captive
against her bonds. Rebecca could not deny her internal urges, and at
last the ensnared female volcano on the table erupted into frenzied
gyrations. The nurses continued, sucking strong and hard on the
bursting nipples within their mouths, sustaining an incredibly stimulating suction on those electrifying nodules of pleasure.
Rebecca's limbless form arched and bucked against the bonds, her eyes
were wildly darting from side to side as she exploded into an undeniable orgasmic fury that lasted for an endless breath-taking eternity.
Then, as the tidal wave of pleasure passed, she sagged back to the table
and sank into a swoon.
Slowly her awareness returned and with it the realisation that the
nurses were looking towards the door. She turned her head and as her
eyes re-focussed she saw the bemused figure of Tom watching from the
door.
No-one said anything as he walked over, then after studying the bound
form of Rebecca he turned and spoke to the fearfully waiting nurses.
“It would appear that our patient has fully recovered, ” he observed to
their astounded ears. "Now might I suggest that we transfer Miss
Rebecca to a gurney and expedite her discharge.”
The nurses hesitated, not sure whether to believe what they had just
heard, then unable to decide what to do, they made as if to release the
bands of tape holding the woman down.
“Oh no, don't do that,” chided Tom. "Lift the top off the trolley and take
her as she is.” Rebecca struggled to understand. Surely he wasn't going
to send her out like this, trussed and helpless - wet with the juices of
lustful outpouring, and offered to anyone who wanted to take advantage. She watched as he scribbled something on a piece of paper and
handed it to the nurses.
"Cover her up and deliver her yourselves with the private ambulance
to this address,” he instructed.
Turning to Rebecca, he looked down and smiled.
“It's my home address,” he informed her and as he did so saw the look
of puzzlement in her eyes turn to one of interest and undoubted
longing. She tried to speak through the tape gag but he placed a finger
on the smooth, tight surface sealing her mouth and bade her be silent.
Turning to the two nurses, he gave further instructions.
“When you get there, please make her comfortable.”
He paused and looked back to Rebecca.
“Any way you feel suitable,” he added with a smirk. ”...and then you
stay with her until I get back. I think I may have some long term
overtime lined up for you two - outside the normal duties!”
The nurses looked at each other in amazement. Neither could believe
their luck as they turned back to the silent female sculpture on the
trolley and began to lift her gently onto a gurney whilst still strapped
tightly to the table-top.
Rebecca writhed slightly and the soft moans emanating from her gave
them assurance that she was becoming even more excited as her
impossibly helpless situation deepened. It certainly wasn't the reaction
of a woman trying to resist her abduction. '
Two dumbstruck nurses stared around them in awe. The inside of
Tom's house resembled some sort of medieval castle - festooned with
hanging chains and various items bygone eras. All the items had one
thing in common - they were designed to restrain the human form in
one way or another.
“My God! He must be a bondage nut,” remarked one of the nurses in
a hushed voice. Then, remembering their helpless charge, both looked
down to the pinioned torso on the gurney, each wondering if they
should have delivered this woefully deprived woman into the lair of
such a man.
Rebecca's shining excited eyes soon appraised them of her opinion
before they even removed the gag. Once her voice was restored,
Rebecca urged them to show her more and her obvious arousal
mounted as room after room revealed an unending plethora of devices
designed specifically to ensure total control of the unfortunate so
ensconced.
The end room on the second floor produced a collection of devices that
defied all efforts by the nurses to fathom their function and were Lmlike
all the previous equipment. This collection was new, the pungent smell
of fresh latex and a arousing aromas of leather were untainted by usage.
A groan of pure uncontrollable pleasure behind them caused them to
turn back to Rebecca who appeared to be in pain. It was only the look
of exquisite feeling on her face and the wetness of her displayed pubis
that told them otherwise. Unlike the two nurses, Rebecca had instantly
recognised the equipment for what it was; a special collection constructed entirely for use on a person without limbs.
As she struggled with the inevitable conclusion, Rebecca's vague
recollections of Tom using a tape measure during his many visits to her
room suddenly had meaning. As she had drifted sleepily in her
recovery period, Tom had been planning for this moment. The nurses
finally understood, and with a sense of reverence, sifted through the
mountain of equipment as Rebecca looked on. Lifting and displaying
each piece to their captive audience, they commented on how she
would look once installed in the displayed article and drew further
groans of ecstasy from their charge.
Their search finally centred on a leather harness affair, which also
included a complete head harness, collar and gag arrangement. Expectantly, Rebecca watched their approach, excited by her inescapable
plight and slightly nervous of her impending initiation into the world
of bondage.
The nurses descended on her and within seconds her torso had been
released from the grip of the tape. She struggled slightly as the leather
began to encircle her form, but it was more in the form of token
resistance than a genuine attempt to prevent her becoming enmeshed
in the strong embrace of those straps. It was exciting her to enact the
helpless role. Even as the buckles pulled tight, Rebecca already knew
that she wouldn't object to their embrace and although her mouth was
free to call for help or mercy, no such entreaties were forthcoming.
Soon her limited ability to move had been reduced to pitiful wriggling
gestures that drew laughs of scorn from her captors. With gleeful
abandon they rolled her form around the bed like a living beach ball,
teasing, prodding, stroking and generally enhancing Rebecca’s realisation that she was just a helpless toy.
With her drastically reduced body weight, the limbless woman was but
a baby to these two nurses who regularly had to struggle with sick old
men - and they took full advantage of this fact as they positioned
themselves on either side of the bed. Taking the truncated trussed form
in her arms, the younger nurse threw her into the middle of the bed
where she immediately bounced upward and on towards the waiting
arms of the woman on the opposite side. Using the bed as a trampoline
the two women laughed continually as they played ball with the
luckless Rebecca, who still ungagged, added her own laughing, joyous
feelings to the game. It was a novel experience for her to be bounced on
her vulnerable pussy, and not one that any normally endowed woman
would ever get to experience.
This was the scene that Tom eventually walked in on, and as they
noticed his entry, the women halted their game and propped the
bubbling, red-faced Rebecca on the bed. It was obvious that Tom
wished to be alone with his new acquisition and with this in mind both
made their excuses and left the room.
In the privacy of the now deserted master bedroom, Tom stripped
slowly as he locked eyes with the prepared figure sensuously undulating on the bed. Every movement transmitted by Rebecca was calculated to send the message - come and take me... I ’m helpless... I ’m waiting.
The additional body straps and suspension head harness the girls had
added to her limbless form were purely for effect. In fact, of all the
powerful straps encircling Rebecca's body only three had any function
at all. The two above and below her breasts simply held in place a stiff
leather open front halter that squeezed and sculptured those magnificent orbs even more, whilst the wide padded collar around her long
slender neck served to hold her head erect and stiffly positioned.
Tom approached the bed and saw her eyes widen with anticipation as
his rampant and bursting manhood stood out rigidly before him.
Rebecca looked as if she was going to faint from the powerful feelings
that were taking control of her delightful body and Tom was pleased
at her obvious pleasure. He eased himself onto the bed beside her erect
body, propped neatly between two pillows. But as his weight sagged
the bed she slowly toppled sideways from her perch.
The eyes looked up at him and her mouth curved in a laugh as he
reached out to draw her stunningly desirable form towards him.
Tom hesitated as she pressed lightly against him, unsure how to
proceed with this strangely desirable woman. He could feel her pulsing
within the cinching strap harness and knew that she wanted him as
much as he needed her. He knew he could take her any-time; but that
wasn’t the result he desired. He needed to savour her total availability
and study the strange, surreal image of this perfectly constructed toy
of the dream world.
His eyes alighted on a large ball-gag on the bed, and picking it up he
considered Rebecca's mouth - a sensuous, generous lipped mouth that
hardly needed to be silenced in view of her obvious acceptance of his
intended actions. Then, as he looked like he was about to throw the
device away, Rebecca caught his eye and nodded her head. Obligingly,
she opened her mouth - confirmation that she did indeed feel the need
to be silenced and have her last defence removed. '
With some effort and a much pushing and packing he eventually
managed to insert the huge sphere deeply into her mouth. A totally
unnecessary strap then drew it deep into the cavity.
No women had ever been so helpless as this young lady now was!
Tom reached over to a dangling hoist-wire placed conveniently at the
side of the bed and holding her gaze, he deliberately snapped it onto the
ring at the top of her head-harness, at the same time studying her eyes
as she pondered his next actions. With equally slow deliberation, he
reached out and began, one click at a time, to wind up the winch.
Rebecca began to arch slowly backward away from him as the steady
pull from above lifted her towards the vertical position. Still her eyes
bored longingly into his own as she urged him to continue.
Soon the lust—fi1led, enticing bundle of female joy was hanging some
two feet above the bed and slowly rotating on the swivel hook. Tom lay
back and took advantage of this panoramic view of the gloriously
inviting body that he would soon be sampling. Standing, he walked
around the bed. His eyes never left the twisting form that was trying to
follow his movements; and as he came round to her front, he mused
absentmindedly to himself.
“I wonder what you looked like before you lost your arms and legs?”
A worried frown appeared on Rebecca's face as she questioned the
sincerity of his attraction to her strange form. Seeing the unsettled look
on her face, Tom speedily reassured her that she still had everything
she would ever need to ensure his undying interest in her. He went on
to other things and reaching forward, toyed with her nipples as he
spoke.
”]ust how helpless are you, really?" he said, thinking aloud.
The next few minutes were to remain burned in his mind forever as
Rebecca gave him a demonstration. With sagging jaw he watched as
the leather trussed and gagged form before him thrashed impotently
on her leash - bouncing and jiggling like a demented jumping bean
trying to escape the fingers gripping her nipple without success. Five
memorable minutes later, Rebecca hung still, breathless and defeated
as her eyes flashed a hungry message. Tom prised the ball from her
mouth and left it hanging by the strap.
“Does that answer your question?” she inquired. "I'm yours to do with
as you will.” Use me! For Gods sake! Use me as your plaything! I'm the
toy you always dreamed of owning. Play with me! Tease and torment
me! I'm just a warm female hole for you to poke and a pair of boobs to
squeeze. When you've finished, pack me away in your toy cupboard
until you need me again!”
Her lips ceased their urgent tirade as he absorbed the sincerity of her
message, her eyes imploring him to understand, but before he could
reply the pretty mouth spoke again.
“Don't you see, Tom? I was destined to be a man’s toy the moment that
car hit me. It's the only thing I can do - and lwant to be the best! The girls
can give me lots of pleasure, but only a man can use me as I should be
used. They would see me now as a woman who needs comforting and
compassion; which is sometimes the case. But they can never see me as
you do. Go on and enjoy yourself, look at me. Silence me so that I have
no voice! Stuff my mouth to bursting! Look at me! Don't be afraid to
enjoy my helplessness! Savour my plight, head held stiff by this
incredible collar and all of me packaged in leather, a hanging helpless
parcel of sex to be used whenever you feel the urge!”
Stunned into speechless silence, Tom's reply, when it came, was a
strangled croak.
“Your wish is my most pleasurable command, dear Princess," he
managed to mutter as he climbed back onto the bed and forced the ball
between her lips with purpose and resolution.
The hanging woman wriggled, impatient to continue and Tom spun
her to face him, his eyes travelling directly to the dew-drops of passion
oozing from her cleft and dripping continuously to the bed. Reversing
his position, he lay below this rnusky valley of lust and wriggled his
tongue into the secret depths of her quivering passage.
The pocket sized sex-aid -above responded immediately and he heard
her leather harness groan with strain as her body expanded into its iron
grip. Looking up past her jutting, swollen mound, he could see the
leather sculpted orbs of her breasts, thrusting lobes of unrestrained
flesh bulging further forward with each second as the internal pressure
rose. Her nipples had become turgid prods of wanton lust demanding
the touch of his fingers to trigger the gathering storm growing rapidly
within her twisting, arched form.
He sensed her readiness and, shifting position, he lay with his rampant
column poised and waiting. Spinning her rotating body back round to
face him, he held her steady and positioned directly over the rod she
craved so desperately. Reaching out, he began to lower the winch. Once
again he teased her with the suspense of delayed fulfilment. One click
at a time he lowered her until, after an age, the wet glistening lips of her
vulva nuzzled at the vertical shaft it so urgently needed to consume.
Tom stopped the descent and gave her a gentlepush. Her suspended
body swung to and fro. Each pass over the stiff, throbbing member
parting her love-lips set her alight, almost as if his tool had become a
plough-shear peeling her open with each swing and stroking her
jutting, blood engorged clitoris with devastating effect.
If a scream of desperate need had been possible, Rebecca would surely
have used it. But secured and helpless, she was reduced to a series of
devastatingly sensuous writhings on the end of her tether. Pleading
eyes said all that needed to be said in one awesomely erotic look.
He stopped her swing and left the reaching groping lips of her pubis to
suck gently on the tip of his shaft. For several minutes he allowed the
hungry mouth of lust scant contact as it sought to devour him then,
sensing the moment, he reached for the winch handle again. Her
glazed, wide staring eyes followed every move as his fingers closed on
the handle. A great gust of air blasted from her flaring nostrils.
Each click and each advancing millimetre of that rod of pleasure drew
further blasts of air. Steadily, Rebecca was being impaled as she sank
lower and lower. Now she was denied even the freedom to swing as her
cavorting peanut shaped body provided inertia. The huge throbbing
column of her desire located her firmly like a jutting rivet, sending
exquisite waves of energy pulsing through her body as it stretched and
bored its way to her very core.
Finally, her beautifully sculptured lower end touched down on his
hips; but instead of allowing her to rest fully, he permitted only the
barest touch of her weight.
Tom grasped her by the hips and with great care began to slowly turn
her suspended form on his pulsing pivot.
The torso rippled and vibrated with the intense feelings of pleasure
generated by his actions within her tethered and displayed frame and
as he continued he felt Rebecca begin to Wriggle madly like a frantic
worm on a hook as the moment of her fulfilment drew close.
Now struggling for control himself, Tom gritted his teeth, determined
that this handicapped girl should feel the true ecstasy she so richly
deserved for the pleasure she was giving to him.
The hanging peanut shaped satchel of exploding female began to buck
and writhe with a ferocity that surprised even Tom - lying back with a
groan, he lay still as Rebecca erupted on his bursting rod of iron. The
sounds of her insanely snorting nostrils were pure music to his ears as
the woman’s cataclysmic, orgasmic gyrations triggered his own. The
monolithic column inside Rebecca swelled and he felt the powerful
surge of fluids racing towards her interior through his conduit of pure
ecstasy. His body stiffened and he was held rigidly by the shattering
feelings of the cavorting body above. For endless eons of time he felt the
great gushing floods of hot liquid exploding into Rebecca and sensed
her response as she was inflated by the sheer volume of his outpourings.
The carnal storm subsided and Rebecca sank into a faint as Tom's spent
body relaxed from the quivering, muscle stiffened form he had been
powerless to override.
With the warmth of fulfilment glowing in his exhausted body, Tom
drifted gently into a dreamless sleep; only to awaken some hours later
and find the patiently waiting pendant still clutching his half erect tool;
her gently massaging tunnel of love skilfully coaxing him awake with
beautifully controlled ripples of muscle action.
He looked up to the animated love-.toy above. So helpless, so desirable,
so utterly defenceless and useable. Instantly, he felt his manhood surge
to full size in seconds bringing a look of joy onto the rigidly strapped
and gag sculptured face balanced on that leather encased neck. Rebecca
felt her lower opening stretched to aching fullness by his rapidly
returning libido and luxuriated in the hot breeze of lust fanning her
nether region.
Their cycle of ecstasy continued through the night, and each time as he
awoke that magical bundle of femininity was always waiting on her
suspension.
By early morning Tom was so exhausted, even Rebecca’s demanding
movements could not wake him. Nor did he stir as the girls silently
slipped into the room and with infinite care, re-arranged his arms and
legs into a straight line before festooning his ‘naked body with tight
ropes that held him stiffly in position.
The wide awake Rebecca watched silent and helpless as the scene
unfolded - watching with interested eyes as her own suspension was
disconnected from the winch and re-attached to some sort of crank
affair that had been wheeled in and set up by the bed.
The final preparation came as one of them ran out a lead from the device
to a wall socket and plugged it in. All was ready and by now Tom was
fully awake and straining at the cords securing him below Rebecca's
still penal-mounted form.
One of the girls bent forward and tweaking his cheek explained their
seemingly crazy stunt.
“Oh! What tangled webs we weave, " she said. “Did you really think we
didn’t know you were planning to have fun with Rebecca?” Tom said
nothing, not sure what to say for the best now that his secret was out.
“Well,” continued the nurse. “We checked out all your equipment
before you arrived and it didn’t take too long to figure out how it all
worked and so now you can reap the fruits of your labours. But first we
have Something for you, you naughty little thing,” she said, placing her
finger on the end of Rebecca’s nose. “We've been watching you egging
this male sex-maniac on, so you can have your own share of torment.”
The two girls gathered round Rebecca's suspended form and for a few
minutes Tom's view of the dangling woman was obscured. When the
bodies cleared, Rebecca was blindfolded and fitted with an extra
vibrator in her spare recess. As if this wasn’t enough he saw that
specially modified vibrators now hung from clips attached to each
nipple. Busy motors were already sending devastating tingles racing
through these aroused nodules and into Rebecca's shuddering body.
“Have fun, you two,” their tormentor chortled. And with those words
she flicked a switch on the strange device which to the consternation of
the blinded Rebecca and himself, engineered an irresistibly sensuous
movement as the crank began to turn.
With that movement came the continuous lifting and lowering of
Rebecca's pendant form.
The girls laughed and giggled as Tom found the gripping pussy of
Rebecca being relentlessly powered up and down on his shaft. An
arrangement that appeared to be immediately acceptable to the owner
of the tunnel of pleasure as her squirming and rippling form attained
new heights of animation. .
And so they were left to perform. Tom gave up the struggle to escape
at an early stage. He found himselfbeing sucked relentlessly into a well
of hopeless abandonment, triggered by the image of that perpetually
oscillating sex-toy dangling in front of him.
For twenty four hours the restrained couple were left to the mercy of the
machine and when an exhausted Tom finally awoke it was to find his
fetters gone and the torso of Rebecca absent from her suspension. He
rapidly dressed and rushed into the hall-way, fearful of what he may
find, then skidded to a halt as he saw the vision by the entrance door.
Suspended by a pigtail from an ornamental bronze flower suspension
device was the nude, nubile figure of his adorable, limbless creation.
She was humming softly to herself as she basked in the early morning
sun shafting through the Window and glinting from her bathed,
perfumed body.
Sensing his nearness but unable to turn herself she called over her
shoulder to him.
“The girls have gone to work and left me here ready for you. So what
have you in mind for me today?” she asked impishly, her eyes travelling suggestively to a device she had asked the girls to leave out - a
device that would clamp around her Waist and leave her pivoted and
available for virtually any use he could think of, and at any angle that
he chose.
The thought of resembling an egg timer when so mounted sent hot
flushes racing through her body as she contemplated her up-ended
offered openings. The look of pure bliss on Tom's face was enough to
confirm that she had chosen the toy he desperately wanted her to try
and she had a feeling that it wouldn't be sand running out of this egg
timer when he’d finished!
 * * * * *
MAXINE
Maxine shifted uncomfortably; although shifted was something of an
exaggeration - strained against her bonds may have been a better
description for the odd millimetre of movement she attained. As she
heaved against the restraints, her eyes were drawn back to the factory
clock, barely visible through the gaps in machinery surrounding her
fettered form. The clock held a fearful fascination for her in that it
would ultimately display the moment of her final downfall.
Exhausted after hours of futile struggles to escape her restraints, the
trussed girl sagged into a motionless resignation with no option other
than to wait silently, helplessly, for the unavoidable retribution awaiting her. Maxine found her mind Wandering back to the preceding days
that had set her on this seemingly inescapable course of self destruction.
For more than a year now she had been Robert’s fiance - a shift engineer
at the nearby factory of Benning Brothers. The relationship, by and
large, had been fairly normal; with the exception that Maxine had
always withheld her consent to anything other than a cuddle and kiss.
Sex was strictly for married couples in her book. Robert fortunately
accepted her chastity. He favoured the idea of their wedding night
being something special as he broke her maidenhead for the first time.
All in all, everything seemed to be shaping up for a solid lifetime of
marital bliss for these two young people. But that was before Steven,
one of the boss's sons became involved in the firm. He was appointed
to the position of a junior manager in his preparation to eventually step
into father's shoes, and Maxine, being an experienced secretary, was
the first choice for Steven's team. All involved were of the opinion that
young Steve would be well served by having someone of her standing
to lend a helping hand. Some of the difficult decisions he would have
to make during his inauguration into the business world would be
child's play to Maxine, who had worked with top management on
many occasions. Such close interaction meant that she had acquired a
thorough knowledge of company procedures.
Months passed and the arrangement worked well. Steve’s natural
business acumen soon came to the fore and Maxine found the burden
on herself easing as he took up the reins with an ever firming grip.
With the arrival of a new found confidence in his position, Steve was
able to relax a little as he found his day to day duties becoming second
nature.
It was with this easing of pressure that he found the time to take more
interest in his surroundings; and in particular the delectable Maxine
with her tight blouses and clinging pencil skirts. Maxine, for her part,
was unaware of his interest for some time and barely noticed the veiled
comments and double meaning jokes that he cast with an ever increasing regularity. Nor did she notice that the hand on her shoulder during
conversation was becoming ever more adventurous. That is until his
playful fingers began to toy with the lobe of her ear on one occasion.
Her first reaction when she did notice was to break contact as quickly
as possible and move out of range. But Steve wasn't to be put off so
easily. He embarked on a carefully calculated program of seduction;
increasing his advances on a stealth basis that always put him in a
position to corner his objective and make escape that much more
difficult.
Maxine was by now fully aware that she had become a target for this
go-get-em executive and although she was loyal to Robert, she couldn't
deny that this vibrant youngster was interesting. Like most women,
she had a fatal attraction to strong successful males. The interest grew
and with it her tolerance of Steve's advances; advances which had
become blatant invitations to grace his bed. Maxine's female curiosity
was by now fully inflamed and she actively encouraged his actions
with a degree of coy flirting. Neither were aware, however, that a third
person knew of their game and was watching with jealous eyes.
Robert felt the burn of jealous hatred every time he passed Steve"s
office. Virtually every time he looked, he saw Maxine away from her
desk and either sitting on Steve's knee or in close proximity to his rival.
He knew that he had a fight on his hands,-but as a relatively shy man
he had no idea how to combat the flamboyant approach that Steve had
towards his prospective conquests; of which there were apparently
many. The shop floor was rife with stories of the trail of used women
left in his wake.
Steve, on the other hand, was for the first time in his young life coming
up against a something he had never encountered before and it
intrigued him. Maxine couldn’t be coerced into taking that final step
into bed. For some reason that he couldn't fathom, Steve found this
exciting and his intentions towards Maxine took on a form he had never
considered in his earlier quest for her favours. Dammit! Perhaps he was
actually falling in love with this woman.
Maxine continued her relationship with Robert, but somehow the
scene had changed. She still liked him, but Steve offered excitement
and glamour, not to mention wealth, when he finally took over the
business. Her eventual capitulation to Steve's advances was a foregone
conclusion from the moment she had started to compare the two
suitors vying for her attentions. As a result, it was only some four weeks
later that she made an excuse to be away for the evening and left Robert
at his front door. A splendid, home—cooked meal followed at Steve’s
luxurious flat, well laced with an expensive wine. Good music and
attentive male company soon destroyed her last bastions of resolve.
Her final resistance to his wooing became a token affair as she allowed
herself to be manoeuvred into the sumptuous silk sheeted bed.
Robert swore to himself and smashed his fist against the nearby wall as
the last light winked out in Steve's flat. The long cold wait in the alley
opposite had rewarded him with proof that Maxine wasn’t playing a
fair game. Well if Steve wanted her, he could have her. But not in the
way he imagined.
Maxine felt different as she sat in the office the next day. Steve’s
lovemaking had been surprisingly skilful, much to her amazement.
Mindful of the fact that she was a virgin, he had eased into her with the
tenderness of a surgeon; halting his advance with each gasp of pain as
her virginity was breached and she opened into full womanhood. The
pain had soon vanished with his long sliding strokes. Her awakened
desire had responded instantly to this new and ecstatically pleasant
sensation and it took only seconds for her to surrender herself fully to
his intrusion.
The door to the office opened and looking up, Maxine felt guilt flush her
cheeks as Robert walked in and spoke directly to her before she could
even say good morning.
“I won’t be able to see you for a few nights. We’ve got a rush job on to
finish the refit on Line Two. It’s got to be in production by Monday at
the latest.”
Maxine just nodded, still unsure of what to say as her guilt froze all
thoughts in his presence.
“We should finish by Sunday night, so if you can manage it, maybe you
could come round to my place about 8 pm.”
Maxine nodded again.
"Yes, that’s okay. I'll be there for sure, there are a few things we have
to talk about,” she finally managed.
Robert seemed in a rush and, accepting her approval of the date, he
vanished into the corridor with a wave.
Maxine sat back in her chair. Something told her that he already knew
that he was expecting a bombshell, but could he know about her
assignation with Steve? She dismissed it as unlikely and returned to her
work, although in the main she was working automatically. Her
thoughts were occupied on compiling the speech which she knew
would destroy Robert's World of bliss as she broke off their engagement. -
Sunday night arrived far too quickly for Maxine, as nervously she rang
the doorbell to Robert's house. Her prepared speech seemed woefully
inadequate for the task in hand. Robert appeared and ushered her in
with a smile, but for some reason his smile seemed false.
“Coffee?” he asked, continuing down the passage as she turned into the
lounge.
"Oh! Er, yes please.” Maxine walked to the sofa and settled herself
awkwardly, ready for the coming traumatic disclosure.
Robert returned, and for some moments they sat sipping coffee and
simply looking at each other. In the final analysis, it was Maxine who
broke the pregnant silence, and placing her half empty cup on the table,
she steeled herself for the inevitable unpleasantness of her task.
“Robert, I've got something to tell you." She paused before continuing,
trying to gather her thoughts. ” I have...”
“I know,” butted in Robert. “I was outside Steve’s flat on Wednesday
night! "
Maxine’s jaw dropped as the full implications of his statement struck
home. He knew already! He was fully aware of her betrayal. She was
speechless as she fumbled for words to excuse the wrong she knew had
been done to this caring, thoughtful man, but was unable to find
anything that could adequately compensate for the pain she knew he
would be feeling.
Robert looked her straight in the eye as he spoke and for a fleeting
second she was afraid of the venom she saw.
“You can have him, if that's what you want! Good riddance to you! You
slut! ”
The venom boiled over as he rose and approached her seated form.
"In fact, I'll give you to him on a plate!”
A wicked smile crossed his face as he realised what he had said.
“Not a bad comparison,” he mused as he thought over some private
joke.
Maxine got up to leave. Discussion was pointless now. Robert was in
a fury and liable to do anything if she stayed.
Her first attempt to rise ended in her flopping back into the chair as the
strength of her arms failed her. A slight look of puzzlement crossed her
face as she grasped the arm and tried again. The result was the same
and, looking up, she saw a look of triumph on Robert's face.
“The coffee! It was drugged,” he informed her. “Now it's my turn to
have some fun!”
Fear seared through Maxine's body as she felt the blackness of unconsciousness rapidly approaching. Her eyes pleaded with the grinning
Robert to forgive her for the wrong she had done; but as the final
blackness descended she could detect no softening of his features
which were still twisted into a sneering, mocking grin.
Again Maxine struggled against her restraint, but even as she strained
she knew it was futile. Compressed into a folded bundle by the steel
arms of the automated material's handling devices, she was a helpless
toy. Folded legs were squeezed tight into her sides; as were her arms
running neatly down both sides of her body. Her young firm breasts
crushed painfully against knees did nothing to ease the discomfort; nor
did the snorkel type arrangement stretching her lips to taut tearing
limits.
Her fear was growing by the minute as she saw the last fifteen minutes
of her long wait ticking rapidly away on the clock. Instinct told her to
cry out through the tube. But if she did, the result could be catastrophic.
A built-in microphone would cause her ordeal to start immediately. As
long as she remained silent there was always the chance that rescue
would come before 6.00 am. Robert had described in detail the nature
of his vengeance and as a result Maxine suffered continued visions of
terror at the thought of her plight.
The handling machine held her naked form firmly offered over the bed
of a computer—programmed horizontal borer, although with her rear
end towards the face plate she could see little of the machine itself. But
this had not always been the case. During preparation, Robert had
allowed her to remain facing the tool-head and she was left in no doubt
as to the nature of the tool being affixed to the face plate of the machine.
She watched with dread as he slotted in and fastened a two inch thick,
chrome-plated dildo of some ten inches in length. All the time she had
listened with a sense of panic as he proceeded to program the machine,
describing each minute detail as he worked.
"So Steve liked your tight little virgin pussy did he? Well that's the last
time he'll ever enjoy that luxury. Let’s see if he still fancies you when
you're as slack as the slut you pretend to be.”
Maxine shuddered with revulsion as he outlined the machine’s intended modus operandi.
"First it bores in, rotating at 20 rpm. The speed is increased in steps to
100 revs over half an hour.” He paused at her look and grinned. “Don't
worry, the lubricator spray will ensure we don't get a tool burn—out,”
he advised her before continuing with his description of her planned
punishment.
"I expect a tart like you will soon get used to that, so I’ve programmed
the head to start trepanning outward. That means the tool will move
off-centre.
I’ve set it for a rate of 1 millimetre a minute, to a maximum of 75.” He
moved close and gripped her chin cruelly in powerful fingers.
"A half hour after that starts, your pussy will be stretching out to about
six inches overall - first one way and then the other as it turns.”
Maxine began to sob as the enormity of his revenge became known. The
mere thought of that chrome monster being inserted with infinite care
brought shudders of fear to her mind; to be inserted by unfeeling
hydraulics simply didn't bear thinking about. But this was to be only
the start. Her body would be reamed by a rotating steel phallus as the
programming began - later to endure a horrendous stretching and
elliptical elongation as the shaft moved steadily off centre whilst it
spun. Robert's voice cut through her near panic.
“You should love program two,” he ventured. “The head withdraws
and steps up two inches before resuming the same routine.”
At first, the full impact of that statement was lost on Maxine, then as she
mentally computed the adjusted target she felt her anus clench involuntarily
at the prospect of its violation. Frenziedly she struggled
against the unyielding clamps holding her in position as Robert swung
her arotmd and locked the arms in position. Visually now out of sight,
the huge tool facing her offered rear-end loomed massively in her
mind. Maxine's thoughts raced as she searched in vain for an escape
plan. Surely the morning shift would notice her fettered form long
before the machine whirred into action. She could scream through the
tube. At least some sound was bound to escape and draw attention to
her plight. Robert grinned as if reading her thoughts.
"You're on Line Number Three. No-one comes in here at present, we
only commission this line next month.”
Hope faded - then, as she thought again, she realised that her sounds
may carry to the next shop. Robert had already foreseen that eventuality.
“Perhaps I should mention the breathing tube has a microphone built
in. Shout or make a noise and the machine starts immediately on
automatic and runs all night.”
Maxine's resurrected hopes were instantly dashed. Only the faintest
glimmer of optimism remained as she contemplated shouting for help
seconds before the machine started at six in the morning. Her forlorn
hope was pinned on the fact that someone may hear before the normal
factory din rose to drown out her pleas for help; and if lucky, before the
insertion began.
She didn’t know that Robert planned to be in half an hour early to
ensure that at least one piece of noisy machinery was running before
the men clocked in.
Left to suffer the ravages of fear for the remainder of the night, Maxine
hung pitifully in her clamp as the apocalypse of her rnechanised rape
drew closer.
Five forty—six am showed on the clock. Maxine's whole body was
gearing up for the final gamble as she prepared to scream for help at the
first sound of workers. Suddenly her ears picked up the sound of a
heavy machine in the next shop rumbling into action. Tears of frustration
coursed her cheeks as she realised that to shout now would only
serve to start her ordeal fourteen minutes early. Already the noise from
next door was easily sufficient to mask any small noise she could make.
Five fifty~nine and the control room on Line Two was full with
engineers. Steve had also turned in early to ensure that start-up went
as planned. Line Two was important in the planning for a new venture
and it was essential that all went off smoothly in the commissioning.
Robert nodded a greeting and checked to see that the indicator lights
for the silent, as yet unused Line Three were concealed by his morning
newspaper. The buttons for that line weren't needed for his plan. Borer
number 7 was cross wired to the ‘ON’ button for the conveyor servicing
Line Two.
Everything was ready. All presses were running and the men at their
stations. The only thing remaining was to start the conveyor. Robert
reached forward as the clock clicked to 6.00 am then, as if having a
second thought, he motioned Steve forward to do the honours.
Checking that all was ready, Steve pressed the button. Only Robert
whose ear was tuned for an unusual sound, managed to pick out the
faint garbled scream from somewhere nearby. To all others the clashing
roar of the press line was unaltered in content or volume. He lifted the
newspaper slightly and peered underneath at the glowing light on
Borer 7 - Line Three, his face creasing into a grin as he envisaged the
trauma being enacted on the other end of that connection.
Maxine thrashed and squirmed as the monster machine rumbled into
life. She felt the saddle of the clamp begin to move towards the faceplate and struggled violently against the encircling steel as she was
carried backward towards that spinning steel phallus. Her folded,
tautly stretched crotch tensed in readiness to try and repel the advancing monster.
It was a futile effort. The chrome shaft didn't even hesitate as it
encountered the resistance of her clenching pubic lips, it simply shouldered them aside and bored the slowly rotating polished head into
Maxine’s warm depths. She screamed a hideously distorted scream of
pain and terror as her opening was defiled, then gasped in horror as the
fully buried shaft began to pick up speed.
Within seconds her first horribly unwanted orgasm engineered an
automatic flexing of her violated pussy and she strained madly at the
restraining arms as her body threatened to explode. The machine
whirred on, unmindful of the tormented bundle it had been programmed to ream. Maxine was powerless to deny the incredibly erotic
feelings being poured into her lower body; nothing could stop the
procession of orgasmic explosions she was doomed to endure. Even
thoughts of stage two in Robert’s plan did nothing to dampen her outof—control libido.
Thirty minutes passed in endless orgasmic racked minutes, before
Maxine felt the monstrous shaft within beginning to deviate from its
central spinning position. At first, the slight off-centre spin added to
her awesome stimulation, but as the misalignment progressed she felt
the first pangs of pain from her slurping juice laden sexual mouth. The
torment increased and with it the desperate distorted screams for help
as her pubic lips were elongated and stretched in every direction by the
whirling crank of the dildo.
With the groan of reverse braking, the half conscious Maxine registered
the shaft grinding to a halt. Seconds elapsed and then the shaft was
withdrawn to her everlasting relief. It was a short lived postponement
from the ordeal as the face plate moved upward and the trussed girl
remembered the next stage of her demise and commenced a demonic
attempt to escape the inevitable rear reaming.
In an empty control room, Robert looked down as the indicator lights
of Borer 7 informed him of a program change. He leaned back in the
chair and watched as the spindle drive light flicked back on. Maxine by
now was experiencing her very first rear entry, an experience which he
was sure was proving extremely unpleasant. The Bitch! I hope it hurts,
he thought as the pain of her betrayal burned deep within.
Hurt was not the word to describe Maxine’s pure agony as the ultra
tight orifice of her ass was stretched and bored by the whirling
chromium shaft. Gone was the serni-pleasure of being raped in her
previously tight front opening. There was no pleasure at all in the
violation she endured now. It was pure unadulterated torment - a
minor taste of things to come as the borer expanded its field of
operations to off-centre trepanning.
As the shaft moved outward and its elliptical track increased in radius,
Maxine felt her puckering clenched ring stretching and deforming with
excruciating pain. To her disbelief she found that even though she was
secured in impossibly tight clamps, her rear end from the Waist down
was being flexed and deflected from centre by the awesome cranking
motion within her tender hole. No doubt to anyone fortunate enough
to be a spectator, her enforced movement would have been a joy to
behold. The view of those deliciously stretched and tautly offered nates
performing elliptical gyrations surpassed anything that could be conjured up in a male fantasy dream.
Robert glanced up from his newspaper and saw the borer light wink
out. Programs 1 and 2 had been completed. He had an irresistible urge
to go down and inspect the result of his machine's alterations to the
dimensions and elasticity of Maxine's orifices - but alas, he had work
to do. Reaching forward, he flipped a program switch before pressing
‘Program proceed’. That should keep her interested he thought; she
hadn’t been told of the final stages.
Maxine hung blubbering and half delirious, her rear facing openings
slopping with liquids; both her own and that supplied by the borer.
Slackly, her violated orifices hung open, reamed and stretched to a
level that would take years to recover from. She could never have
imagined that more was planned in the way of revenge by her exfiance.
The borer released its own clamp leaving her held simply by the
portable device used for work being transferred from process to
process. There was nothing she could do as the line jerked into motion
and carried her away down the shop - stopping eventually as she
passed in front of a strange machine that hung half over the production
line conveyor. A green light fla shed on Robert's panel and reaching out
he slapped another button before returning to the crossword.
Maxine heard a swishing sound and with terror watched as shiny steel
bands of thin steel snaked out of the machine and encircled her body.
A moment's pause and a clicking sound of relays told her that the
machine had yet to complete its allotted task. The loose bands suddenly
drew taut and compressed her into an impossibly tight bundle cinched
at three inch intervals by the tough steel bands. Further clicks sounded,
followed by a multiple snicking sound as each band was crimped with
fasteners and the trailing ends snipped off.
Maxine screamed and moaned as the final clamp retracted leaving her
banded and compressed form balanced impotently on the conveyor.
Her scream was cut short as the belt surged into motion and carried her
to another device, only to have her sounds of distress rekindled as huge
plastic polypropylene plugs were inserted into her defenceless openings. A six inch diameter plug, easily the size ofababy’s head, stretched
her front opening while the four inch version fitted into her ass was
equally as painful given the lessor degree of elasticity inherent in that
most private orifice.
In the next shop, Robert noted the indicator advised the consignment
was banded and plugged. Immediately, he operated the sequence that
would carry his unfaithful bitch to ‘packaging and packing’.
Maxine was beyond the level whereby she could be shocked or surprised by anything. She fully expected her final ordeal to result in
death. As a result she watched with resignation as a loose tube of
opaque plastic descended around her and hardly noticed as the conveyor carried her through a tunnel full of bright hot lights. The
industrial shrink wrap surrounding Maxine reacted instantly to the
heat and ultra-violet light, shrinking rapidly and drawing as tight as a
drum skin around her banded form inside the tube. Robert watched as
the light showed completion, then on a whim, pressed ‘re-pack’.
Maxine was recycled and another skin went over the first, increasing
the compression that threatened to crush her into nothingness. She was
completely enveloped in the plastic drum-skin; her only contact with
the outside world was the small tube of the snorkel that was now held
tight in the gripping shrunken neck of the tube.
Maxine heard a swishing sound and with terror watched as shiny steel
bands of thin steel snaked out of the machine and encircled her body.
A moment's pause and a clicking sound of relays told her that the
machine had yet to complete its allotted task. The loose bands suddenly
drew taut and compressed her into an impossibly tight bundle cinched
at three inch intervals by the tough steel bands. Further clicks sounded,
followed by a multiple snicking sound as each band was crimped with
fasteners and the trailing ends snipped off.
Maxine screamed and moaned as the final clamp retracted leaving her
banded and compressed form balanced impotently on the conveyor.
Her scream was cut short as the belt surged into motion and carried her
to another device, only to have her sounds of distress rekindled as huge
plastic polypropylene plugs were inserted into her defenceless openings. A six inch diameter plug, easily the size ofababy’s head, stretched
her front opening while the four inch version fitted into her ass was
equally as painful given the lessor degree of elasticity inherent in that
most private orifice.
In the next shop, Robert noted the indicator advised the consignment
was banded and plugged. Immediately, he operated the sequence that
would carry his unfaithful bitch to ‘packaging and packing’.
Maxine was beyond the level whereby she could be shocked or surprised by anything. She fully expected her final ordeal to result in
death. As a result she watched with resignation as a loose tube of
opaque plastic descended around her and hardly noticed as the con-
veyor carried her through a tunnel full of bright hot lights. The
industrial shrink wrap surrounding Maxine reacted instantly to the
heat and ultra-violet light, shrinking rapidly and drawing as tight as a
drum skin around her banded form inside the tube. Robert watched as
the light showed completion, then on a whim, pressed ‘re-pack’.
Maxine was recycled and another skin went over the first, increasing
the compression that threatened to crush her into nothingness. She was
completely enveloped in the plastic drum-skin; her only contact with
the outside world was the small tube of the snorkel that was now held
tight in the gripping shrunken neck of the tube.
Robert pressed ‘re-pack’ four more times before his whim was satisfied. As a result, the solid plastic blob that contained his ex-lover barely
reacted to the jolt as her pre-packed, ‘bench run-in’ form was dropped
into a crate. Oh! yes, she was well and truly run-in thought Robert. No
problems with a seize-up there now. And the prolonged stretching
provided by her new static inserts would ensure that she couldn't start
the long process of shrinking back to size for some time yet. It pleased
him to think of that treacherous bitch stuffed and chicken wrapped.
As the pre-programmed packing plant began the job of banding the
crate it also carried out a task that included adding packing notes and
addressing.
The automated lights blinked rapidly with each sequence and Robert
turned and reached into his jacket hanging on the chair back. His
fingers closed on an airline ticket which he withdrew and studied at
length. Yes, all was in order. By the time that crate arrived at its
destination he would be thousands of miles away. He sighed. It had
meant giving up all he had worked for, but what-the-hell! He had done
it all for her and now she didn't want him. -
Iwonder if Steve will still want her when he opens that crate tomorrow,
he mused. I hope he has some tools handy at home, those plugs are
going to need a tyre lever to get them out. He laughed out loud and with
a flourish pressed ‘Proceed Dispatch Bay’, his laugh increasing as a
lone crate appeared on the side conveyor and unnoticed by the work
crew joined the flow on the main output conveyor heading for the
dispatch department.
It was hard to imagine that such a small crate contained a live women,
her lower body packed to bursting point and gift wrapped to excruciating levels of compression; but then he had personally adjusted that
bander to maximum tension with that end in mind.
“Bye bye, slut! Have fun,” he whispered, as he watched the crate
disappear through the swing flaps at the end on the conveyor.
Steve looked perplexed at the small crate sitting on his step, then seeing
the address markings, he accepted that it must be for him and proceeded 
with some difficulty to lug it into his hall-way.
Retrieving some tools from his shed he set about snapping the banding
and prising the lid off. Minutes late he stood aghast as he looked down
at the tightly banded and shrink-wrapped package within. Through
the opaque plastic coating he could see what was obviously a compressed naked woman. From the faint movements visible in the outer
coating it was obvious that she was still alive, albeit, very uncomfortable.
He reached for a Stanley knife, his first thoughts to free this poor
unfortunate as quickly as possible, but then as he bent forward his eyes
alighted on a packing note affixed to her outer covering. The note bore
an emblazoned legend.
IMPORTANT!
READ BEFORE UNPACKING!
Steve retrieved the note and opening it, read the contents carefully, his
eyes widening and straying to the pathetically encased Maxine as
Robert’s detailed description of her ordeal unfolded. Easing the package out of the crate he lay it on the rug and studied the dark shapes of
the plugs through the plastic covering, a frown creasing his forehead as
he perceived the hugely stretched openings hosting these monsters.
Steve put the note down and seating himself on a nearby chair he sat
deep in thought as he studied the gleaming capsule of femininity before
him. It was pulsing slightly, and faint mewing sounds permeated the
packaging as Maxine sensed help close at hand. She recognised the
patterned carpet despite the opacity of her confinement and knew that
it was Steve beyond that impenetrable wall of shrink wrap. But why
wasn't he tearing at the packing? Why was he just sitting there instead
of rescuing her from this awesome compression?
For almost an hour Steve sat silently contemplating the package.
Reaching a decision, he reached for the phone and consulted his
personal international directory before dialling a long number.
“Ah! Achmed, how are you, old friend? Long time no see.”
The conversation continued for several minutes as customary pleasantries were exchanged, then seeing his chance in a lull in the conversation, Steve brought up the reason for his call.
”Achmed, I heard rumours when I was last out there that you dabbled
in certain, shall we say, personal cargoes?”
He listened as his friend answered, his frown relaxing as the answer to
his problem was resolved.
”I’m glad to hear that because I have just such an item of merchandise
available at the moment... No! No-charge... A gift. Oh! Yes, immediate
delivery... in fact, it's already packed and ready for shipping right now.
Achmed arranged for pick up and Steve ended the call before turning
back to the mewing package on his carpet - a package that had
overheard every word of the conversation.
“Sorry, Maxine,” he said, rolling the package gently back and forth
with his foot. "I never use second hand goods, especially Well worn
items.”
He slewed the trussed women around, rolled her onto her back and
poked at her inserts idly with his toe. Maxine's squirming protest
showed faintly through the plastic and Steve took advantage of the taut
plastic encased buttock mounds as he utilised them as foot rests. He
had to admit that Roger had done a nice job, and had she not been so
incredibly stretched by those inserts he could have enjoyed keepingher
like this for a while. For a while he mused over the thought of piercing
the crotch covering plastic, withdrawing one or the other invader and
using her as she Was. But a deal was a deal and Achmed was expecting
a pre-packed shipment.
Stooping down he hefted the package and dropped it back into the
crate, refitting the lid as best he could before retrieving his coat and
leaving for his favourite restaurant.
”Hmmm! I think I fancy stuffed chicken tonight,” he mused as he
climbed into his car.
SEEDS OF CHANGE
Doctor Adam Ekkhart eased back into his chair, flexing his cramped
muscles as he stretched lazily in his seat. A movement beyond the
laboratory window caught his attention, and he glanced up to see the
prim form of Miss Eve Wimslow, his assistant, moving down the
passage beyond.
Her white starched smock did little to hide the thrusting protrusions of
an ample yet firm bosom; nor did anything to disguise the deliciously
formed length of smooth tantalising thigh. But this was due more to the
woman's statuesque six foot bearing than any lack of material. Ekl-(hart
felt a warm glow pass over him as he watched her vanish through the
swing doors at the end of the corridor. He'd long been tempted to
sample the delights that Eve could offer; but despite his repeated
prompting and sly innuendoes, she had yet to give any indication that
she had ever noticed him as anything other than a brilliant botanist and
biochemist. But that would soon change!
The doctor swung back to his microscope and began to study one of the
hundreds of slides with a new found fervour. His sense of purpose had
been renewed by that short sighting of his assistant; as if by an infusion
of some new wonder drug capable of revitalising even the most tired
worker.
His work over the years had become almost mundane. Little had
happened in the world of botany to inspire any new or interesting
research, and as a result the main thrust of his activities had been
reserved for the love of his life - an exotic greenhouse with the most
amazing variety of plant forms ever assembled under one roof.
These oddities of the botanical world encompassed almost every size
and shape of living vegetation it was possible to imagine, ranging from
the most minute fungal growths to mighty vines and shrubs. Experts
and enthusiasts from all over the world visited his collection and
marvelled at these wonders of nature.
Had those visitors been privy to the contents of a closed section at the
end of the greenhouse, their wonderment would surely have known no
bounds.
It was late. Eve had been gone some three hours when Ekkhart finalised
his research on the tiny spores he had been scrutinising. Generally, it
had been a good day, and everything he'd hoped to achieve had been
completed with only a few minor set-backs. All that remained was the
practical realisation of his endeavours.
The short drive from the laboratory to his country house was barely
noticed by a mind that was filled with optimistic plans.
Swinging open the door to his private section, Ekkhart stood still for a
second surveying the contents of his enclave, his mind still not fully
able to grasp the enormity of his discovery; a discovery of pure chance,
handed to him many months ago when a small, insignificant fragment
of meteorite had plummeted into the lush green turf of his front lawn.
The bluish tinted lump of fused rock unearthed by his curious dog the
next morning proved mildly interesting. It was, however, soon forgotten as it lay on his lounge coffee table. It never occurred to him that the
injury his dog seemed to have sustained had any connection with the
meteorite, a limp that first appeared to manifest itself on the right front
leg.
Ekkhart barely gave it a second though after first examining the leg and
ascertaining no visible damage - probably just a pulled muscle or
something. His concern was rekindled the next day when the limp not
only got worse, but appeared to be spreading to the other leg. He
wasted no time in taking the ailing dog to the vet, but to no avail.
Nothing untoward could be diagnosed, and at a loss to explain the
condition, the vet put forward the opinion that his dog was suffering
the early stages of Arthritis.
Ekkhart wasn’t convinced. Over the next few days he kept a close watch
on his canine friend and observed some alarming changes that defied
all medical precedent.
The affliction was spreading at an alarming rate, and within four days
the animal was almost entirely paralysed. A further worryin g development went unnoticed until the fifth day, when during an examination
of his pet's paws, he noticed strange hair like tendrils appearing on the
pads.
At a loss to explain this growth, Ekkhart’s scientific curiosity began to
assert itself. Donning a pair of surgical gloves, he carefully removed
one of the tendrils and placed it in a sample jar; surprised that the
operation appeared to have no effect on his pet as the keen scalpel sliced
through the root of the hair like growth.
Within minutes he had a sample slice under the microscope, and his
eyes widened in ever increasing disbelief as the searching eye of the
scope revealed the complex cell structure of the sample. Ekkhart found
himself staring down at the first tangible evidence of life from another
World.
The sample was certainly not of a structure normally associated with
mammals, or for that matter, any species endowed with a locomotive
life form. The cell structure was without doubt in a category that placed
it firmly in the botanical sphere, and yet, it was growing from his dog!
Ekkhart spent the next twenty-four exhausting hours engrossed in
deep study as he strove to identify the vague nagging thoughts that
told him he should recognise this cell structure. Then, in a flash it came
to him. It was root growth, albeit of type never before encountered by
man. His dog was trying to put down roots. Ekkhart's studies became
intensified as a strange metamorphosis began to take place. The dog
was obviously in no pain, and seemed to have surrendered to whatever
this new symbiotic life form intended.
The week drew to a close, and with it, any signs of animation from the
animal; now completely immobilised by the astounding changes that
had resulted in tissue structure. Ekkhart was ecstatic. First hand, he had
witnessed and catalogued something that was unique in botanical
research - something that could have far reaching consequences for
man's knowledge and understanding of the universe.
With great care, Ekkhart picked up the stiffened form of his pet, his
analytical mind instantly recognising the feel and texture of the inanimate body as that of some kind of wood, as yet unknown to man.
Every feature of the animal had been preserved and reproduced in
minute detail, and yet even though it appeared dead, Ekkhart was
convinced that somehow mammalian life still remained in that vegetated form.
Days grew into weeks - Weeks to months as his research continued.
Nothing was left to speculation as he methodically unravelled the
secrets of this new life form.
In the early days he had ascertained that the dog had absorbed all of the
organism present on that celestial rock at the first encounter, which
would explain why he himself had not been affected by subsequent
unprotected handling before the rneteorite's secret had been revealed.
The organism seemed content to concentrate on colonising and consolidating its growth with each new host in turn, before searching for
new ground to propagate the species. Further revelations revealed that
it was indeed a symbiotic parasitic growth, which meant that it understood the need to preserve and protect its host so as to guarantee a
healthy environment for itself.
The greatest discovery, and potentially the most devastating, was that
although the entire body of the dog had been colonised and converted
to a wooden cellular structure, the brain had remained intact, completely unaffected by the invader. In fact, the oxygenated blood required to maintain life in this mammalian component had been replaced by a sappy fluid that had exactly the same function.
Ekkhart was stunned by the revelation as the full impact of its potential
impinged on his thoughts. The dog was still alive and thinking; trapped
in a wooden effigy of itself and maintained by a benevolent invader.
Thoughts of those past months flitted through his mind as he paused
at the doorway to his private domain. His eyes alighted on the flourishing
form of his former pet, and those of the many other assorted
mammals and reptiles who had subsequently been exposed to an
invader that was now fully established in the pilot colony and eager to
expand into a new and unpopulated world of potential hosts.
Each experiment had been interesting and absorbing. But the underlying interest in each had been in an entirely different direction.
Eve waited impatiently at the front door. Her ringing of the bell seemed
to have no effect. She looked down towards the greenhouse at the far
end of the property, and straining her eyes in the gathering gloom of
evening, was able to make out a tiny glimmer of light escaping the
partly open door of Ekkhart's secret inner sanctum. Turning from the
main door of the house, she made her way across the lawns towards the
signs of life. Secretly, she was pleased that Ekkhart was already at
work. She didn't mind giving up her evenings to help prune and care
for the vast variety of plants in his greenhouse, but preferred that it
didn't consume too much of her free time.
If he started early, the chances were that they could finish by eight
o'clock or there-abouts.
Arriving at the greenhouse, Eve swung open the first door giving
access to the airlock that was required to maintain a carefully controlled
environment within. Fully aware of Ekkhart’s insistence on observance
of the rules, she carefully closed the outer door before turning to the
inner. She cursed softly to herself as the door resisted her first attempt
to open it. Dammit! Why did it have to stick when she was in a rush to
get finished. She pushed harder but to no avail. The thing was jammed
solid. Frustrated and annoyed she turned to let herself out of the outer
door, only to find that it too had become jammed shut. No matter how
hard she tugged and jerked at the handle it simply refused to budge.
For a second or two, the small confined space of the airlock invoked
claustrophobic panic in her. Then, rationalising her predicament, she
began to hammer on the inner door. Ekkhart was bound to hear the
racket and come to investigate. For several minutes she thumped at the
inner door, pausing on occasion to listen for the sounds of any approaching help. The silence became oppressive as her earlier panic
returned. She resumed the assault on the stubborn door with something akin to a frenzy, unaware that wispy tendrils of vapour were
seeping from a vent to surround her feet.
Eve was well into her fourth attack on the jammed door when the first
insidious effects of the vapour began to take effect. Initially, it was
merely a slight giddiness that she equated as the effects of being
confined in a small space. Only when her legs began to buckle did it
register that something was seriously wrong. By then it was far too late,
and slowly she slid to the floor as consciousness ebbed away.
Ekkhart peered through the glass viewport in the door, studying Eve's
still form for several seconds before slowly removing the iron bar
jamming the handle. He opened the door and stood back, allowing the
residual anaesthetic vapour to dissipate before venturing inside. He
was nervous that pockets of Nitrous Oxide might still be lurking for the
unwary, and having gone this far, he had no intention of falling prey to
the agent of his own nefarious scheme.
All was well. He could detect no blurring of vision or light headedness
as he stooped to lift the slumbering form of his assistant.
Hampered by the limited space in the airlock, he found himself unable
to lift the languid form, and resorted to dragging her into the greenhouse by the shoulders. After much heaving and straining, Ekkhart
finally managed to transport the sleeping Eve to his potting shed. With
some difficulty he managed to lift her to the bench, somewhat surprised at how awkward a human form was to handle when drugged
into a limp, unresponsive state.
Eventually, he stood back and surveyed the recumbent form of his
delectable assistant as she lay stretched on the bench.
At first he was almost afraid to touch what had long been denied him.
Then, fortifi ed by his lustful resolve, he began to strip the clothes from
her nubile body, pausing only to study each newly revealed section of
her superb figure. She was alabaster perfection in female form. With a
sort of reverence for an artefact of exquisite beauty and value, he found
himself stroking the curving buttocks, rolling her over and testing the
soft erotic resilience of her orb-like breasts as he steadily divested her
of all clothing. Finally, she was naked and he returned her to the face
down position before reaching out for the long flat piece of wood lying
nearby. It was not unlike the spatula type of item used for marking new
seedlings, or correcting the growth of a wayward plant. In fact, it varied
only in the unusual size. Being some six feet long, it was far larger than
anything used in the plant world, with perhaps the exception of a
support used for a young sapling. the other departure from the norm
were the rows of holes down each edge.
Placing the heavy spatula alongside the unconscious woman, he drew
her hands behind her back, and securely bound them with a waxed
twine. The board was now placed on top of Eve, and with infinite care,
he began the lengthy task of mating woman and spatula.
Starting at the ankles, he moved upward, cinching and securing with
the waxed twine in multiple encirclements, neatly threaded through
the holes, and cross cinched to draw them tightly into her supple body.
Steadily, the woman was reduced to a stiffened line of womanhood as
board and female became one and the same item. Eve, once she
recovered consciousness would discover that her movement capability
had been reduced to zero. Those clever holes would ensure that none
of her bindings could slip or move, she was effectively ensconced in a
cage of cords.
The final cinches were hardly completed when the slumbering woman
showed the first signs of recovery. But the returning faculties were too
late to be instrumental in any escape attempt. Eve had long since passed
the point of no return in Ekkhart's plan.
Ekkhart stood back, surveying his work with undisguised relish. She
looked so sweet with all those curving cinches marching up her body.
Somehow they conveyed the total vulnerability of the woman in a way
that defied description. The cocoon of bonds at a one inch spacing
instantly conjured a picture of complete control. There was no way Eve
could ever gain her freedom until someone chose to release her. And
that wasn’t about to happen.
As she moaned softly in the dawn of returning awareness, he treated
himself to a feast of sensory delight, stroking each curving bulge of
cinched femininity and savouring the tautened skin effect produced by
her inescapable bonds. The moans grew more insistent as her faculties
began to flood back. Tiny movements flitted continuously over her
body as subconscious thoughts struggled to resolve the lack of freedom
her befuddled brain told her she should have. She strained against the
strictly stiffening back board; but as expected, without success. Ekkhart
decided to complete his work with some final additions before full
consciousness returned. He prised the licentiously inviting lips open
and inserted an large, wooden plug gag. More waxed cords fixed it in
position. Then, as an after thought inspired by head rolling movement,
he added more cords to her slender throat, and around the forehead.
Those simple additions removed all vestiges of movement from the
bound woman.
Ekkhart was well pleased. But he, of all people, knew that by far the
most important aspect of raising any new plant was the planting itself.
Lifting the statuette of stiffened womanhood with some difficulty, he
located the foot end of his cinched female seedling in a prepared pot
nearby. Eve was by now fully conscious, and seeing the pot realised
that it was of the size usually reserved for small trees. The knowledge
did little to appraise her of his intentions, and even less to placate the
fear of what was happening to her.
Steadying the woman with one hand he began to shovel in a mixture
of soil and highly nutritious peat. Regularly, he stopped and carefully
tamped the earth tightly around her feet. It took a few minutes to fill the
pot enough for her to become self supporting, and using both hands, he
continued at a faster pace, seemingly eager to complete the irrational
chore in hand. Eve could do nothing other than ponder the eventual
outcome of his madness with increasing trepidation. She saw him rise
to retrieve a plastic tube from the bench, but could only surmise that it
had been planted with her. The ability to look down was denied her by
the tight cords around her head and throat.
It took a half hour to fill and tamp the pot fully, and Eve found herself
firmly held in a vertical mode as he stepped back to survey the results.
Ekkhart’s face was aglow with eager anticipation as he checked over
her situation, implanted inescapably to the upper calves, and the
ominous tube jutting from the soil by her knees. All was ready.
Eve watched fearfully as he returned with a bag of powder, instantly
recognised as rooting compound, then felt the cool ingress on her feet
as it was poured down the tube. Suddenly, she perceived the objective
he had in mind, although it did little to ease her Worries as she
perceived him as a maniac who had actually planted a woman like a
tree. Ekkhart had crossed the thin dividing line between genius and
sanity! The poor man actually thought he could grow a woman!
His next actions mystified her as she wa tched him don a pair of surgical
gloves and take up a set of tweezers. With a sort of morbid curiosity,
Eve watched as he moved over to a barely visible shrub in the shadow
of the green house and stooped down. As far as she could see, he
appeared to be removing a small nodule or bud at the base of the plant,
but the dimness defeated her best efforts to pierce the gloom.
He returned holding the amputated nodule at arms length then,
stooping below her vision, she assumed he had dropped it into the
tube. Something landed on her foot and came to rest in the cleft
produced by her big and second toe. She wriggled her foot to dislodge
it, but pressure of earth and twine defeated her efforts. She could feel
him capping the tube, and then he reappeared in front of her face.
Wearily, yet unable to protect herself in any way, Eve saw the gloating
lust in his eyes as he pulled off the rubber gloves and reached out to her
fettered form. She was unable to repel the assault on her body in any
way, other than to make protest with her glaring eyes and by garbled
sounds past the dowel in her mouth. But Ekkhart just ignored those
futile attempts and continued with his not unpleasant petting and
stroking. She had no idea that as he savoured the alabaster smoothness
of her body, he was comparing her form to the furry outer covering of
previous experiments and speculating on the final result of her meta—
morphosis.
He didn't speak a word as he leered and touched, yet the arousal his
power over her was generating was clearly displayed in the flushed
face and shining eyes of her captor.
Unable to repel his advances in any way, Eve endured with an indifference she didn't feel. Eventually he had taken his fill of her offered body,
and she watched as he reached up and flicked on an overhead light. It
was of the ultra violet type, a lamp designed to enhance the growing
cycle of indoor plants without recourse to placing them in the natural
sunlight they would normally thrive under. The main lighting blinked
off leaving her bathed in a surreal blue glow, then her hue changed as
he added an infra red to the illumination of his female plant.
He studied her a while longer, then turned for the door, ignoring
muffled pleas from his captive as she realised that she was being left to
root in a semi dark, moisture controlled environment.
Miserably, Eve wondered how long she would have to endure before
someone realised she was missing. It was a thought that terrified her.
Ekkhart and herself sometimes worked for months without other
people coming near either the greenhouse or the laboratory.
Alone and afraid, Eve struggled against her bonds, fearful of Ekkhart’s
wrath when he finally realised that she couldn’t just be planted and
grown like one of his other shrubs. Her terror grew as she cast her mind
over the many other techniques used in horticulture, not least of which
was the practice of pruning to propagate growth. A madman like
Ekkhart might do anything if he really perceived her as a plant.
Her violent but ineffectual struggles continued well into the night,
masking the slight prickling sensations between her toes as the bite of
the cinching cords held her strictly to attention.
Nor did she give the strange feeling of deadness in her lower limbs
more than a passing thought. After all, what could be more natural
given that they were encased in tight cinching cords that restricted
blood flow to her limbs.
The night wore on for the planted Eve, unaware that radical irreversible changes were already taking place within her helpless form. The
fact that she was no longer struggling was a visible sign that the nodule
between her toes was beginning to exert its influence through the tiny
tendrils now invading the pores of her skin, and reaching out in search
of the nervous system that it would soon control. An army of microscopic
rhizomorphs were already advancing on the conduit to her
brain provided by the filament like nerves.
Eve began to feel strangely at ease. And although ignorant of her alien
invader, she sensed an indescribable awareness of a benevolent entity
somewhere nearby. She tried to come to terms with these feelings, and
in doing so lost track of time. Even without that distraction, it would
have been difficult to gauge the hour, or even the day. Her growth
inducing lighting could be pro grammed to longer or shorter day cycles
so as to fool normal botanical specimens and produce rapid growth.
Even the periodical dousing from fine mist sprays could be adjusted to
any length of cycle.
It never even occurred to Eve that her natural bodily functions were
inexplicably absent. There was no hunger or thirst. Nor was there a call
of nature to void any waste material accumulated in her lower body.
She couldn't know that already thousands of tiny root tendrils festooning
her feet were drawing up and converting nourishment from the soil in
the pot. Tap roots were burrowing and searching for essential minerals
in the peat at an amazing rate as the alien spores consolidated their hold
on the new host. Unbeknownst to her, changes in her rapidly forming
new epidermal layer were venting wastes silently and inconspicuously
into the atmosphere.
Three days passed for Ekkhart, although Eve had by now lost all notion
of passing time. Then the door opened as he came in to view his protege.
He was ecstatic! Peering into the tube, he was rewarded by the sight of
massive root growth as Eve's feet vanished into a mass of new tendrils.
With gloved hands he carefully scraped away the soil surrounding her
buried ankles and studied the steadily advancing sheen of wood rising
up the formally peach-like skin of her limbs. Already the lower cinches
of her containment were being absorbed as they became an unwarranted interruption to her smooth lines. The alien was degrading and
absorbing the fibres of the twine as it moved inexorably upward.
At first her flesh seemed to turn a pallid white as red corpuscles were
either absorbed or denied access to the area then, as it encroached, the
new epidermis took in its new teak like appearance. Had it not been at
the expense of her own body, no doubt Eve would have agreed that it
was a marvellous and beautiful conversion. Forttmately, she was
unaware of the changes in her own body.
As it was, Eve chose to humour him and quietly accepted his inspection
of areas denied her. The bonds holding her so cruelly in check no longer
had a bite. Better to humour him and behave like a plant whilst she
awaited rescue than to incur his wrath.
The days passed, and each artificial dawn usually brought another visit
from her attentive gardener. He would spend hours checking soil
chemistry and watering her buried feet with hormone growth compounds. As far as she knew, none of these compounds were harmful,
so that was merely a minor discomfort, although of late, the feeling of
wet cold feet didn"t seem to arise. Strangely, it was the reverse. Cold
moistness felt good to her.
Eve had no idea that her legs were not still bound. Her lower limbs were
as immovably now as the first day she had been planted. It never
occurred to her that it fact she was now being restrained by the
inflexibility of her own body. Already the teak exterior was up to and
passing her knees, developing into a grained and beautiful sculpted
parody of her former soft curves. She could feel Ekkhart stroking her
legs, and for some unfathomable reason it transmitted feelings of
remoteness and hardness. The same applied days later when he ventured up to her vulnerably exposed pussy. She could feel his touch, and
as he caressed the peach shaped segments of her mons, Eve found she
couldn't deny the sensuously pleasing feelings it generated in her
lower regions. At first she was vaguely annoyed that the feelings of
arousal came without her bidding, but then given the long, boring vigil
she had been forced to adopt, Eve eventually brushed these thoughts
aside and allowed herself the luxury of gleaning whatever small
pleasures she could from her plight.
Ekkhart, on the other hand, was highly pleased with progress. As with
all other experiments, the parasitic invader was faithfully mimicking
every minute detail of the host as it moved steadily upward. All of Eve's
converted areas had acquired the appearance of polished, oiled teak.
Whorls and weaves of grain structure added an unprecedented beauty
to the female form, endowing her with even greater charm than he
could have thought possible. Eve was destined to become a carved
statue of intensely satisfying allure, the like of which would never be
surpassed by any mortal sculpture.
The growth continued rapidly, accelerating as the invader became
more at home in its new host, and infinitely more knowledgable about
the complex structure of the human form. Ekkhart was fascinated as it
marched upward to engulf Eve's youthful, fully developed breasts.
Within the space of one day it had converted these sumptuously
desirable cones into twin mounds of polished erotic sculpture. But Eve
found her previously felt contentment waning as she perceived at last
that there was something dreadfully wrong with her body!
Her respiratory organs were now feeling the effects of the burgeoning
woody growth, and breathing was rapidly becoming a task that
required extreme effort as the contents of her cardiovascular cavity
began the conversion to non flexible tissue. The change over from
oxygen breathing to carbon dioxide absorption was a slow and painful
process. With panic welling in her captive body, Eve fought to breathe,
desperately pleading with her grinning captor as all the effects of
drowning became a nightmare of reality. She fought at non-existent
bonds, not realising that from the neck down they no longer existed. All
below her graceful neck was a petrified replica of the body she once had
sole ownership of. Ekkhart relented and removed the gag. The lips
moved as her eyes begged for help. But no sound issued forth. Already
her lungs were incapable of producing an airflow that would generate
sound in her vocal chords. Ekkhart watched her, unmoved by the
trauma. He had watched as other experiments went through this stage,
and whilst it was uncomfortable and frightening, he knew that Eve
would soon be through the ordeal and done with mobile respiratory
needs for ever. An hour later, all movements in that magnificent chest
and the decorative orbs of her breasts were gone. Now only the head
showed human traits. It seemed odd to look at what was essentially a
young tree with human attributes at the crown.
The pallid sheen seemed to romp up her neck as the invader sensed
total capitulation. Ekkhart stayed long enough to wa tch the shoulders
and neck complete the change, then left the room as an inexplicable
attack of guilt played on his conscience. He found he was unable to
witness the final conversion as the last vestiges of the vibrant women
he had known as Eve were absorbed for ever.
And so in the dimness of that potting room, Eve was left alone with the
final horror of realisation as her sight dimmed and the shining, lifefilled eyes became dulled with the sheen of polished wood.
Ekkhart returned later an stood transfixed by the ebony statue, lifeless
in human terms, yet radiating a new beauty that defied description as
the wondrous shape of Eve stood resplendent in her hardened format.
He tended her regularly. She was the prize possession in his botanical
wonderland, albeit one that was reserved exclusively for his own
viewing. Tests and sensors affixed to her smooth surface proved that
the brain was intact and functioning as normal, as were all the faculties
of sensory perception previously endowed upon her. She could feel his
touch, luxuriate in the stroking sensations as he toyed with her form,
and even experience a strange glow in her wooden pussy.
Ekkhart was even more amazed to find that she had also gained the gift
of telepathy in her botanical form. Instruments left attached faithfully
recorded her reactions to his return even when he was still miles from
home, and far beyond any human means to discern.
Another unannounced event had him completely baffled. The clefted
delight that had once been her succulent sexual mouth began to ooze
a treacly liquid. It was a phenomenon that lasted a few days then
seemed to cease of its own accord. He dismissed it as a sap leakage, and
only when it reappeared several weeks later did the truth dawn. It was
almost exactly a month since the last occurrence. Eve's parasitic intruder was somehow, for whatever reason, maintaining her menstrual
period, albeit it a botanical equivalent. Sure enough, after a few days
small buds began to appear all over her form. On the first attempt these
buds had been absent, but now the symbiotic life form had perfected
the technique.
Under the influence of the ultra violet lights, the buds soon began to
open and blossom into beautiful flowers that fully reflected the stunning magnificence of the human part of their host. El-<1-chart studied
them at length, only realising at the last moment the danger he was in.
Eve was in her reproductive cycle. The pollen from those deceptively
innocuous flowers bore the spores that could colonise himself should
he accidentally inhale them. He rushed from the potting shed sealing
the door, careful as the spectre of his own botanical conversion loomed
large in his mind.
Equipped with respirator and suit designed for the spraying of dangerous chemicals he ventured back, confident that his protective clothing
would prevent any ingress of the deadly pollen.
As he stared at the delicate blooms and superb smooth perfection of his
protege, it was hard to imagine that such a wondrously beautiful
creation could conceal such danger. Nor could he possibly imagine the
frustration within as Eve's silent form sensed his deliverance from her
planned revenge. _
The months passed, and Ekkhart continued to experiment with his
permanent captive. He found that her body had adopted the properties
of an Ash tree, albeit one endowed with the appearance of a hardwood.
She was flexible without risk of snapping, and could be trained to form
different growth patterns by fixing the form in a strained position that
was slowly adopted once her springiness capitulated to the strength of
a new directional anchor. By applying a constant pull in any one
direction she could be shaped to new and more exciting configurations.
Remove the pull and she would reach for the light and slowly straighten
back into her former stiffly erect shape. Ekkhart had no concept of the
fury contained within the silent form as he trained her to a bent format
that left her folded at the hip. The resultant thrusting smooth wooden
lobes of her buttocks were much more available in that form; a fact that
Ekkhart made full use of as he patted and fondled.
Not content with a mere ninety degree bend, he gradually trained her
to a hairpin fold that left all her attributes blatantly exposed in an
upward thrusting edifice of carnal delights. He had always admired
her superbly flared hips, her sumptuously rounded bottom, and her
shapely thighs. Now it was all on offer for as long as he chose to savour
her new configuration.
It was on one such savouring occasion that he noted that his constant
abuse of her offered pouring mons had dulled the normally shining
surface of the hard wood. Fetching a cloth and polish, he set about
remedying the situation.
Minutes later he was amazed to see the unmistakable signs of an
aroused woman as her pouting pussy crevice began to ooze the thick
secretions of love juice. It was probably the first time that he realised the
full extent of her diabolical fate. Eve had been converted to an inanimate object, yet was still endowed with all the sexual sensations of a
fully human woman.
Entombed in her wooden hell, Eve’s brain accurately interpreted and
reacted to each and every sexual stimulus she was subjected to. The
horror was that she was unable to do anything to relieve the awful ache
of denial in her present form.
Ekkhart, instead of interpreting the revelation as a condemnation of
what he had done, was in fact overjoyed at the power he now wielded
over the helpless, solidified woman. With a lustful fervour he began to
polish the projecting pussy, and her hard daggering nipples.
The seepage of viscous sap leeching from her love cleft increased
dramatically. Soon it was a torrent of creeping liquid love juice coursing down the shining edifice of her elegant legs and soaking into the soil
of her pot. It pleased him to consider the perfect cycle of seeping and
reabsorption of her own body fluids as the roots broke them down and
re-ingested her own love juice as food.
Eve's next reproductive cycle was a joy to behold. Her upward thrusting love tube had actually sprouted a flowering bud. She looked so
sweet with that delicate bloom growing from her love nest. A second
appeared shortly after, actually blossoming from her jutting clitoral
nodule.
Carefully he snipped the unique bloom from her love trigger and
rushed away to preserve it for future reference.
Inside her silent hell, Eve winced mentally as the secateurs nipped the
flower stem. Didn't the fool realise she felt everything that was done to
her form? Obviously he didn't. Days later she endured the trauma of
having her wooden nipples drilled so as to hang ornamental flower
baskets from the jutting protrusions.
The tormenting fingers continued to rape her form unabated as a
raging libido ravaged her body from within. Denied all but the most
basic and ineffectually response, Eve's lust for revenge grew stronger
by the hour.
She was on the point of madness. Her hyper active brain tried to come
to terms with the fact that she was doomed to remain in this living hell,
maybe for hundreds of years. After all, who could predict the life span
of a human plant? What made it worse was the change in her understanding of Ekkhart, the certain knowledge that he was in fact fully
aware of her human thoughts, the mental anguish his ministrations
were creating; the torment and mental anguish her form would endure.
That bastard knew what he was doing, all right. She could feel his
sadistic thoughts with her new powers of telepathic perception.
Eve was near to breaking point when a new and potentially more
sinister development made itself felt. It was that indefinable presence
she had sensed right at the initial stages of her conversion - as if
something, someone was trying to communicate. Could it be that the
invading parasite was capable of intelligent thought?
Her searching telepathic probes were interrupted as Ekkhart's hands
returned to roam freely over her outer Cambrian layer, and with a
sinking heart, Eve reconciled herself to the fact that his expertise at
manipulating her carnal sensations was growing by the day. She could
no longer deny the sensual input and found herself gripped by impossibly unfulfillable urges the moment he touched her. Secretions of love
juice could no longer be confined to her sexual orifice. Despite her
Gargantuan mental efforts to block the inflow of sensory excitement,
she found her woody form leaking the streamers of lustful betrayal
from almost every pore of her grain structure.
Ekkhart seemed ecstatic at this new development. She could sense his
enjoyment as her body emitted sounds of stressed wood, like a giant
oak flexing in a strong wind, Eve was groaning with internal torment
as her excruciatingly denied arousal created unbearable internal stresses
in her fibrous form. But that was only the half of it.
Ekkhart had taken to pruning her budding flowers each month. Denying her even that small chance of revenge as she was effectively
neutered by the snipping secateurs. However, that wasn’t his aim. He
could easily negate that risk by wearing the suit for the few short days
she was in bloom. The pruning was to encourage growth in areas of
interest.
Within two reproductive cycles, Eve found herself forced to bloom in
the manner he was dictating. Whole groups of new blooms were
clustered and sprouting from the redundant clefts of her mons and
buttock crease. It was the ultimate humiliation as she was forced to
flaunt her womanly attributes in this humiliating manner.
Ekkhart settled into a pattern of tending and teasing, a ritual that filled
the endless days of incarceration with torment and anguish. Her only
moment of relief came when Ekkhart decided to move her pot to his
study, and for the first time in her new form, Eve felt the soothing
sensuous rays of sunshine as only a plant could. His abuse of her form
became simply a matter of unavoidable torment which she couldn’t
avoid, and was slowly coming to accept as part of her existence. He had
removed the tensioned growth control items, an as the months passed
she resumed her formal statuesque glory.
The pet parrot who insisted in perching on one of the hanging flower
baskets and pecking at nipples and breasts was another matter; as were
the termites placed at her feet. She was unable to see that they were
safely contained and unable to start colonisation of her body. It was just
another item of proof that revealed Ekkhart's knowledge of her awareness. In a tree form, termites produced the same sort of terror a normal
human would feel at the hands of ycannibals.
There was one new and infinitely more interesting development within
her woody form. Over the months she was steadily learning to understand
the nature of her alien occupier; and in doing so, getting closer by
the hour to the point where communication by thought was a very real
possibility.
Unaware of these subtle changes within his captive charge, Ekkhart
continued his life of bliss, ever conscious of the threat posed by Eve's
blooms. But he had not allowed for the wily brain of a thwarted female,
nor the fact that the invading parasite was of a truly symbiotic nature,
in that it would work closely with the host in order to preserve and
enhance its environment.
It was now some three days since the last flower had withered from her
floral display, and Ekkhart considered it safe to dispense with the
protective suit.
That particular morning he had some very special retraining in mind
for the delectable sapling that was now reaching a height of some ten
feet. He was so preoccupied with preparations that he scarcely noticed
the fine dust in the air when he first entered the study. It was only as he
approached to start work that he registered the strange spurts of dust
emanating from the cleft of Eve's mons.
He was completely mystified at first, then suspecting the work of some
sort of wood boring insect, he collected specimens in a test tube and
hurried to the study. The last thing he wanted now was to loose his
prize possession to a destructive borer insect.
With a sample under the scope he set about identifying the pest. But
very quickly his assumption as to the cause was disproved. This wasn't
wood dust or larvae. It was some sort of living organism related to
botany. He'd seen a similar specimen somewhere before. But due to the
slight anomalies in this species, he found it difficult to slot into any
known category. Leaning back, he sat deep in thought as his brain
struggled to place the haunting memory. A vague uneasiness crept
over him as piece by piece the jigsaw of buried knowledge slotted into
place.
A chill swept over him as the final connection was made.
Lycoperdon calvatia! The giant puff ball fungus! Those innocuous
puffs of dust spurting from his wooden captive contained millions of
spores - spores that were the combined life form of both Eve and the
parasite.
Panic blossomed in his mind as he swung to face the silent Eve. Without
doubt he’d already breathed in thousands of spores, and at this very
moment they would be colonising the trillions of cells in his lungs.
Within seconds he could feel a tightness in his chest as the first signs of
metamorphosis began to convert his molecular structure, and as he
looked up to the impassive frozen features of his prize creation, he
perceived a new shape to the lips. Eve was smiling in triumph.
The tightness grew, crushing the breath form his body as the transformation began in earnest. Then, as he crumpled to the floor, Ekkhart
realised that the study windows were open. Already clouds of spores
were spreading across the countryside, and he knew without doubt as
he returned his gaze to the wooden woman, he was seeing the future
of mankind. Or, as it happened - womankind! The spores released by
Eve were composed entirely of female genes. Anything they took as a
host would become female in gender as the trans formation progressed.
The male component of the drifting specs of new life was relegated to
a microscopic particle that was sufficient to spark the regeneration
cycle, and no more.
A strange compulsion began to invade Ekkhart’s thoughts; he had to
get to soft ground, away from the sterile hard floor of the office. As a
plant form the basic instincts to root in nutritional ground could not be
denied. With maddening slowness he crawled towards the partly open
French door, across the patio, and then with his dwindling reserves of
flexibility managed to roll down onto the lush green lawn.
A great feeling of well being flowed through his rapidly converting
form as his feet touched fertile ground. '
Ekkhart's final fully human thoughts as the change accelerated still
more, were strangely enough a reflection on historical events. It looked
very much as if Eve was once more to be the mother of the human race,
and Adam it's sire, albeit both of them in a radically altered form. And
although he had yet to discover the full extent of Eve’s triumph in the
gender war, it looked as if there would be no dispute over the superiority of woman as the dominant gender of the species.
Of course, as the final light dimmed out in his wooden eyes, he still had
no idea that as a male he would soon be only represented as a
microscopic spec of dust at the mercy of the prevailing winds.
 * * * * *
JULIA'S BIRTHDAY
Iulia stood silent and expectant as he fussed aroimd her, painstakingly
putting the finishing touches to the arm sheath now holding her arms
in a stringent back prayer. Willjngly, she opened her mouth as the huge
ball gag appeared before her, bracing herself against the push as it was
slowly but surely worked into her mouth. She savoured the helpless
feeling of her silencing as he fastened the mouth filling object in place
with a strap. Standing still, trembling slightly with the emotion of the
moment, lips stretched deliciously tight around its circumference, ]ulia
felt the heat of arousal rising as the helmet was pulled over her head
and moulded to her features by his smoothing hands. Then, as he
moved behind her, Iulia felt her body's tremulous reaction building as
the laces began to draw tight - stretching the rubber like a second skin
around her encapsulated features and enhancing her sensation of
helplessness as it crushed her head in a welcoming embrace.
The helmet fitting complete, Iohn began to oil her naked body with a
perfumed body lotion; smoothing it on and polishing her skin till she
gleamed and glistened like a bronze statue. Patiently she stood, her
love lips wet with desire as strong male hands stroked her receptive
body. Finally, his pleasurable task complete, he stood back and surveyed her magnificent form. ]ulia basked in his appreciative looks as
his eyes wandered freely over her captive and provocatively displayed
body.
He was clearly satisfied in the image he'd created. Iohn motioned for
her to lead on through the door and down the passage; standing aside
as she strutted past him on her skyscraper heels. 
As Julia walked ahead of him, he studied her exquisite shape, his eyes
taking in the soft curves of her body, the rounded lobes of her buttocks
and her long graceful legs. His eyes feasted on the arm sheath and
helmet contouring her upper body and holding her head erect and
proud. The polished rubber rippled with erotic flickers of burnished
sensuous movement in the light filtering down the passage. It gave her
the appearance of an awesome goddess of erotic excess, and ]ulia,
knowing that he was watching, swtmg her hips in an outrageously
exaggerated swagger; taunting him with her mincing nates, and feeding on his obvious arousal. She was bound and helpless, yet she felt a
power radiating from her core that endowed her with a form of control
that defied logic.
Reaching the door to the dungeon, Iulia halted and half turned to look
at him as he leaned forward to open it, a look of intense anticipation
sparkling in her eyes. Iohn turned the ponderous handle and swung
the great studded oak portal open, the faint rush of air from within
carrying her scent to his nostrils. A different scent now! Not just
perfume, but musky and exciting - the scent of a sexually aroused
woman. A smell of heaven that sent the blood coursing through his
veins.
Iulia hesitated, not trusting herself to look, for within lay the culmination of her dreams. It was a fantasy born ten months before in a
recurring dream - now brought to life by her lover for her pleasure. The
ultimate birthday gift. She looked in on her fantasy and was transfixed
as her eyes roamed eagerly over the machine resting in the middle of
the room. It was beyond her wildest expectations, a device that was
accurate down to the last detail; her most private thoughts, reincarnated in steel and leather.
Julia's knees felt weak as powerful feelings began to invade her body
- immensely pleasurable, infinitely satisfying feelings. She had seen the
device during construction. In fact, she had even assisted in the many
complex mouldings and fixings it required to bring her mental creation
into being. But at that stage it had only been a collection of fibre glass
shapes, blackened welded steel tube, and leather patterns that bore no
resemblance to the imagery of her mind. The object she now beheld was
beautiful. It was the most erotic sculpture she had ever seen, and now
it stood silently waiting. Waiting for her!
Polished chrome reflected shafts of light, whilst the glistening black
leather trimmed with shining buckles and polished steel clamps seemed
to be beckoning, silently, patiently, eager to imprison her shapely
limbs. She could feel it tempting her to test its embrace, mocking her
weakening will to resist, yet scornful of her ability to withstand its
potential for pleasure. It was inviting her; challenging her to sample the
nectar of the Gods!
It was alive!
A living machine fuelled by pleasure, waiting to drain her body of it's
erotic feelings and emotions, and then to wring more and more from
her trussed form - oblivious to her puny struggles and muted pleas for
release as it drew on limitless power resources in its quest to drive her
beyond the known boundaries of pleasure.
Standing quietly alongside her, Iohn allowed the full impact of his
creation of love to take effect, then watched without comment as Iulia
tentatively Walked into the room and across to the machine.
Slowly she strutted around it on her high heeled shoes, only the
daggering stilettos breaking the silence of her licentious appraisal as
they clicked on the stone floor. She paused regularly, studying it from
every angle, her eyes noting every detail. The lovingly made straps
with their soft padding soon to hold her firmly. The long tubes
designed to spread her legs and hold them stiffly spread, exposing and
offering her furry mound and the warm inviting love tunnel it concealed, ready to be ravished by the mindless machine as the lush lips of
her mons were parted and rendered helpless by the tensioned spread.
Her attention was drawn to the motor nestling snugly in the base; an
irresistible motive force that would drive her beyond earthly pleasures
and on into an unknown plane of ethereal experience. Iulia trembled as
she contemplated the image of herself mounted trussed and exhibited
on this creation, her eyes turning to the second part standing beside the
frame and feasting on the impressive central attraction.
The bearing plate stood strong and firm on three legs, whilst from its
centre rose the object of her attentions, the key to the whole arrangement -.a key that would wind her sexual spring to unprecedented
levels. Iulia quivered as she studied its semi-gloss surface of smooth
latex rubber concealing the steel core and its intermediate layer of
spongy, soft expanded foam rubber. Involuntarily, she felt her thighs
clench against each other, squeezing the soft throbbing clitoral nodule
lurking between swelling peach segments of her mons as it rapidly
moistened; excited at the prospect of her imminent mounting on this
welcoming dagger of eroticism.
Behind her, Iohn grinned to himself when he saw the tensing of her
buttocks and heard the sigh of nylon as her thighs meshed. He felt her
pleasure and basked in its glow as his own arousal took hold with
rampant anticipation. He was pleased at her response, and moving
behind her, he allowed his hand to stroke and caress the smooth warm
curves of her rump. ]ulia's muffled giggle sounded through the thick
helmet as she misc-hievously moved her inviting curves out of reach
and tempted him to pursue her. She stood facing him; then unable to
resist the intangible attraction of the device, her eyes were drawn back
to the machine as her chest heaved with quickening breath.
The spell broken, he walked her forward and positioned his prize over
the frame, then searching her face, received the look of approval and
consent for her forthcoming captivity.
Slowly, with Iohn steadying her, she slid into a perfect sideways splits;
a feat which she had practiced long and hard for the last nine months,
and now was able to accomplish without stress or pain. Finally, her legs
were stretched out in a straight line on either side of her body, their
underside resting snugly in the shaped cups of the restraining straps.
Then, after wriggling to adjust her position, she leaned back against the
padded back support.
]ulia's mind wandered as he began the job of securing her to the frame.
Was she still dreaming? Was this really happening? She felt the straps
draw tight and ]ohn's arm brush against her out-thrust nipples, causing a feeling of elation mixed with fear to flow through her. Elation at
the realisation that she was to experience her dream - fear that it
wouldn’t live up to her expectations. Her thoughts came back into
focus and she became aware of her lover standing looking at her. With
shock, she realised that he had finished securing her. She explored the
powerful, inescapable bonds shaping and holding her, revelling in the
fact that they afforded her not even a modicum of movement. Iohn
reached down and caressed her nipples, thrusting turrets of passion
that were now standing erect and alive with feeling - projected forward
in abject surrender by the shaped back rest and the arm sheath drawing
her limbs tightly behind her.
Iulia gasped through her gag. Delicate nostrils flared as the electric
shock of his touch seared through those tiny turrets of pleasure. A soft
moan grew in her throat and was all but stifled by the helmet as his
hands opened and cupped her breasts, gently massaging and stroking
their taught surface. For a while he played within his captive toy then,
having sampled her offered charms, he held her unstable form carefully and slowly lowered her forward.
She tensed as her nipples made contact with the cool stone floor, then
relaxed as her oiled skin became accustomed to the change of temperature.
The stretched area between her hugely spread thighs rippled delightfully in the grip of the surge of feeling creeping through her body, so
that she barely registered the soft click of the lifting hook connecting to
her mounting frame.
Iohn turned the handle of the winch, each click of the ratchet bounced
from the walls and seeped through her helmet, and with a gentle
movement she felt her displayed form begin to lift away from the floor
and climb towards the vertical once more. With a faint scrape of metal
on stone she felt the inflexible support frame leave the ground and
continue its climb towards the ceiling, carrying her bound and gagged
form with it. It was a pleasant sensation as she swung gently on the end
of the chain, but this was swamped by the clicks of the winch, each one
fuelling her desire as it counted off the distance towards her mounting
on that awesome rubber coated shaft. The lifting stopped! With baited
breath she watched Iohn bend and adjust the positioning of the base
beneath her suspended body, then returning to the winch, he began to
lower once more.
A desperate longing for that first contact passed through her as she
sank downwards towards the Waiting monolithic phallus until, after
an age, she felt the waiting finger of pleasure touch her vulnerable
mons - just the barest touch, tantalising her hovering love lips, then
brushing lightly on her pubic hair as she swung gently to and fro.
Propelled by her own movements, she savoured and explored the
rigid, unyielding strength of her tight bondage, the swing of her
suspension ploughing her love lips apart as the stiffened shaft passed
tauntingly through the outer reaches of her love shaft.
The lowering stopped, and looking at Iohn, she saw an inquiring look
on his face. Did she want to go on? ]ulia moaned softly as she squirmed
and attempted to increase the contact with her hungry sex-lips. It was
an insistent, imploring moan, her eyes begging him to continue as they
opened and closed slowly in time with the waves of undeniable passion
flowing through her body. John turned back to the winch, and as it
began to click again. The swing halted as the phallus centred her
hungry portal, and she felt the touch become an irresistible push
against the resilience of her lust ripened mound. For a brief moment her
love tube denied the intruder access. Then, as she sank lower, the labial
guardians of her sacred tunnel succumbed to its oiled insistence,
stretching to accommodate its smooth surface. Iulia began to swallow
its immensely satisfying girth in her helpless love channel.
The tide of erotic pleasure rose higher and higher as the phallic shaft
continued its remorseless advance into ]ulia’s interior. Her breath
became laboured, eyes fully closed as Iohn wound her down. He was
watching intently as the shaft was steadily engulfed by her eager sexual
mouth. It was truly an erotic sight to see her greedy mons swallowing
the monolithic phallus in urgent spasmodic gulps, salivating with
copious love juice streamers that stretched out to the floor in a never
ceasing procession. His hands trembled in excitement on the winch
handle as he sensed the powerful waves of energy flowing from Julia’s
bound form; each undulation in the spiralled shaft brought fresh
moans of pleasure as it smoothed out the delicate membranes of her
succulent interior. Finally, with the faint sound of metal on metal, the
two disks met, and the disk on ]ulia’s frame came to rest on the lower
supporting disk. The shaft of joy had disappeared, all eight inches of its
impressive mass now being hidden inside ]ulia's body as her super-
heated tunnel slowly warmed the cool surface. She was speared like a
fish on the thrusting pole, located and positioned by her own love
channel.
Iohn moved over to his charge and disconnected the lifting hook, his
hands feeling vibrations of ]ulia’s straining, wriggling body through
the metal of her frame as the uncontrollable forces within worked her
body on the shaft. Moving round to her front, he began to stroke her
breasts once more, patiently waiting for her to open her eyes so that he
could look into her soul. He had to know! He had to be sure that she
wished to continue!
Slowly she opened her eyes and stared with shining intensely, imploring looks into his own, then as prearranged, winked slowly with her left
eye as a sign that she wished to continue.
]ohn moved behind her to collect more equipment, and as he did so
Iulia ran her mind over the explicit instructions she had given to him
which would in three stages remove all possibility of going back. She
knew that without these preparations she wouldn't be as completely
helpless as she had dreamed. As long as Iohn was with her, she could
always gain release by appealing to him with eye movements or
sounds through the gag. She needed to be at the mercy of that unfeeling
machine. Doomed to endure unimaginable levels of pleasure with no
hope of release, for that was her dream.
John returned and proceeded to fit tiny copper rings on each nipple,
which were then connected by thin wires to a box on the frame behind
her, but even this simple task threatened to unleash the boiling volcano
of lust in her lower body. She became aware of his voice through her
struggle to maintain control.
“Ready?”
Julia tensed, and taking a deep breath, Mmmpphhed! her approval
through the gag. An ominous click sounded behind her.
“Stage one complete,” Iohn announced to a now silent and stiff Iulia.
With the switch in the ON position, a microphone built into the gag and
movement sensors on the frame were active - with the result that any
sound or movement would trigger the box behind her and pass a
painful, but not dangerous shock through her nipples. ]ulia's silent and
still form watched as he continued with the next stage, her eyes
following him as he picked up a steel collar which he proceeded to lock
around his own neck, there to stay until the key to release it was
retrieved from the safe at the other end of the house. Dangling from the
collar was a short chain with a strange looking key at its end, the
purpose of which the silent Iulia knew only too well.
He moved in front of her and, looking down, waited for the final signal
before continuing. Iulia hesitated. This was it! If she winked again her
fate was sealed. The movement of that one eyelid would reduce her to
a helpless statue, doomed to be ravished and tormented by the machine
holding her so firm and silent. The forces of lust and uncertainty battled
within her as he stood patiently waiting. Then, as another surge of
exquisite pleasure rippled through her lower body, she took the bull by
the horns and winked at his smiling face.
Instantly, feelings of apprehension flooded over her as his hands
moved up and fitted the leather blindfold over her eyes.
Now she had done it! There was no way to go back! No way to
communicate! Oh! My God! What had she done? How on earth had she
allowed her lust to plan her own downfall with such precision and
finality?
The blindfold drew tight as he pulled up the strap behind her. Then,
obviously satisfied with its fitting, ]ulia heard his footsteps retreating
across the room. She could picture in her mind the scene as he
approached that small hole in the wall, the key on his neck chain in his
hand, and as she did so, her bonds seemed to grow tighter and the
massive intrusion in her lower body began to swell in her mind, its cool
surface expanding more and more; stretching her tender pubic lips
wider and wider until they formed a shiny stretched ring around the
unyielding mass of its girth. Hot blasts of pure lust gushed through her
form as she contemplated the impending, irreversible torment of never
ending pleasure and arousal,
Iohn approached the insignificant spot on the wall that bellied its secret
power to unleash the incredible power contained within a woman's
body. The hole in the wall was in fact a key hole; he only visible sign of
a special key-timer switch mounted in the wall and concreted in place.
Once inserted and turned, the key couldn't be removed until it had
timed out, and so he would be secured to the wall and out of reach of
the machine his beloved Julia was mounted on,
]ulia's body trembled involuntarily as she heard the rasp of the key
enter the lock. She tensed in anticipation of the click as he turned the
key, but hearing nothing relaxed slightly as she listened. Was she to be
released? Had John at the last minute had second thoughts?
Iohn looked on at the stiffened and helpless form across the expanse of
the room. His hand trembled on the inserted key as he wondered. Was
she trying to communicate? Was she desperately willing him to stop?
No! She'd planned it this way. This is what she wanted. He couldn't go
back now!
With a firm twist, he turned the key towards the first locking position
on the timer, a position which would not only secure him to the wall but
would start the machine she was mounted on. At the same time it
would be deactivating the sensors at present ensuring her silence and
immobility. A loud click sounded in the stillness of the room as ]ulia's
fate was sealed.
As the sensors’ restrictions were removed, ]ulia's brow furrowed and
her moans became insistent. Her body pumped helplessly on its buried
spindle in an attempt to gain more purchase on the invading shaft as
with a feeling of exquisite pleasure, Iulia felt herself begin to turn, and
at the same time felt the first cool trickle of water force its way out of the
tiny hole in the shaft and add its lubrication to her own body fluid The
movement of the shaft within defied description. Its caress was far
beyond anything she could have imagined in her wildest dreams - the
spiralled flutes added to her original design by the inventive Iohn, were
a stroke of genius, whilst the spring mounted shaft altered its angle
continually as it faithfully followed her sloping internal passage of
womanhood.
As she swung round, Iulia felt her protruding clitoris being tantalised
by another unexpected treat as the rippled ring of soft latex he had
fitted to the stationary ring below flipped the magical sex nodule back
and forth with its multiple fingers. She bathed in the sensation of
fullness created by the shaft as it stretched her opening around its
circumference. Writhing in pleasure, Iulia luxuriated in the deliciously
lustful sensations as the spiral alternately expanded and contracted the
inside of its warm, snug rotating prison.
The timer moved on to the next step and her turning body began to pick
up speed. Iohn stood transfixed at the image provided by the whirling
pillar of unbridled lust he was now witnessing. He listened in awe, his
ear tuned to her sounds as he waited for the moment of her fulfilment
- the culmination of their plans and hopes.
On and on she whirled, not wanting it to end, yet fearful of the storm
of ecstasy building within her. The thoughts of her rotating image and
its effect on Iohn fuelled the furnace within, as she saw herself, a
pirouette of feline eroticism ravaged by the titanic forces being unleashed within. On and on she spun, her breath quickening as her
heaving chest devoured oxygen to feed the colossal efforts; her proud,
jutting breasts riding up and down on the heaving bosom, now tingling
with electrifying sensations of pleasure, and capped with throbbing
nodules of sheer solidified joy.
Julia sensed it coming; like a tidal wave of immense destructive power,
the orgasm to end all orgasms loomed before her, rushing towards her
at terrifying speed, smashing aside all in its path with effortless ease. It
was accelerating to enormous velocity as the timer moved on, hurling
her helplessly offered body with ever increasing speed towards the
oncoming wall of destruction, and then it was upon her, devouring her,
bending, shaping, tossing her around like a piece of drift wood, until at
last screaming in triumph, it broke her into a thousand pieces. She was
powerless in its awesome grip - crushed into nothingness by its might,
pulverised into fragments of screaming ecstasy.
John stood entranced, listening to the long drawn out quavering wail
of rapturous sound seeping around the filling in her firmly gagged
mouth as the orgasm burst upon her whirling body. Massive convulsions of ecstasy strained her against the straps, whilst the huge shaft
below remorselessly wound her sexual spring tighter and tighter as it
bored into her helpless charms. Beneath the blindfold, her glazed eyes
were wide and staring, as they slowly rolled up under the lids. The
spiralling shaft in her whirling love channel was winding her sexual
spring faster than she could ever hope to dissipate the enormous carnal
momentum. Wave after wave of erotic energy pulsed into her, the
surface of her captive form rippling and writhing in the grip of its
massive onslaught of pleasure. Then suddenly she was still, her body
rigid and quivering as she spun endlessly on the shaft of joy and the
carnal eruption levelled out to an unspeakably exquisite climax that
made all previous events pale into insignificance. An awestruck ]ohn
looked on. Oh God! How he longed to be inside that body with her. To
join with her in this moment of triumph - the moment of supreme
experience!
He marvelled at the female's immense capacity for pleasure, and the
joy they could bring to others by displaying their superb mastery of the
licentious arts.
Iulia, unable to cope with overwhelming levels of pleasure, sank into
a trance-like state. Her body was seemingly flying apart in space, a
kaleidoscope of whirling, sparkling fragments, scattering in all directions; an explosion of her very soul. Weightless, these fragments
floated in the ether, slowly spiralling into the distance like the debris of
an exploding star. And yet she could feel each and every piece, remote
as they were, her conscious earthbound being holding them together
with nebulous threads as she drifted in a sea of tranquillity. It was a
place where time could not exist. Only ultimate pleasure and a feeling
of total well being, a state of complete fulfilment could survive its
empty wastes.
Endlessly she floated, undulating in some gentle cosmic breeze as it
stirred her formless body, sometimes as a coloured cloud of gas, and
then as pure thought, until slowly - oh, so slowly - Iulia drifted back to
her body and became aware of her material self, and of the tight
bondage holding her.
As she opened her eyes, she became aware of a concerned Iohn. The
blindfold was in his hand. Having been released from the wall by the
timer, he now stood close with his strong arms around her helplessly
trussed body. She became aware of the motionless shaft within, warm
and comforting; stretching her, filling her completely - and waiting
with ominous portent!
Gently, he released the restraints on her helmet and began to remove
the device but Iulia, not wanting the moment to pass, shook his hand
free from her now mobile head. With a sigh of contentment, she gently
nuzzled his chest with her encapsulated cheeks, emitting soft moans
that sounded like the purring of a cat as she contemplated her next
birthday. There was always the possibility of another gift that surpassed even this one!
Raising her face, she made contact with his eyes before turning to look
meaningfully at the key dangling on his neck chain. Then her gaze
moved to the key hole in the wall. Unspoken thoughts were betrayed
by the slow, rhythmic undulations of her lower body as she tried to
coax the annoyingly inactive shaft into motion.
As Iohn started to get up from his crouched position, she laid her head
back into the restraints for him to secure her once more. Instantly, the
irresistible carnal power returned to her body as the straps pulled tight.
Her pubic lips clenched on the shaft when the click of a switch
announced the end of her freedom to object as the microphone and
sensors ensured her total control.
His task finished, Iohn savoured his illusory power over her; warm
strong hands caressed the jutting mounds of her breasts and toyed with
the aroused copper ringed nodules of her nipples. The teasing hands
left her and she heard him walk to the switch in the wall with mixed
feelings of joy and apprehension. He couldn't know that she had
reprogrammed the timer. If it was used a second time it would run for
six hours! And there was no way she could Warn him now!
A distant click sounded and the drive motor beneath her whirred into
motion as she began her self engineered orgasmic marathon.
Julia smiled inwardly as she started to spin. Iohn thought he was in
control, but it was she who would be enjoying herself whilst he was
chained to the wall. The spiralled flutes stretched and massaged deep
within her body and Iulia abandoned herself to the inescapable inevitability of never ending orgasmic torment.
Thank God that Birthdays lasted for a whole day!
 * * * * *