Chapter 9: Meeting Maggie
=======================

And strangely enough it was my geekyness that saved her.

I'm a geek, a fact I freely admit that to anyone who would want to
listen. I'm the guy who actually buys things from the gadget
catalogues you find on airplanes. Lot's of things that I own have
computers in them even ones that don't really need them. It's hardly
surprising then that when I came to build a dream house it was a
"smart building". I could talk at length about optical packet busses
and redundant control but is enough to say that one machine is
dedicated to the security aspects of keeping a slave.

Suicide was one unpleasantness that I'd been forced to consider. Some
people don't react well to being locked up. Taking their own life is
sometimes preferable and any prison warder can tell of ingenious
suicides even when the inmate was being closely watched. When
Caroline collapsed she had enough slack chain to fall perhaps 3 feet
before it became taught. At the very least that could hurt as the
collar pulled tight, at worst she could break her neck. The moment
the mounting point came under load a strain gauge registered the
sudden impulse and this was sent to the computer. Now the computer
understands the difference between static and impulse loading, it will
let much more than Caroline's weight be applied to the chain but not
suddenly. In the instant she fell at a speed far faster that any
human could react the machine determined she was in danger and fired
an explosive bolt severing the mounting at the ceiling.

She lay on the floor winded and too surprised to do anything as the
chain landed on her. When my heart started beating again I reached
down and helped her up. With a strength I didn't know I had I lifted
her as if she was a rag doll.

"What the fuck is the matter with you!" I almost screamed, "Are you
trying to kill yourself."
"You...you said...."
"What the fuck does that mater!!" I shook her. For the first time I
came within a heartbeat of hitting her. She started to cry.

"About the baby being a GIRL." She said as if the answer was somehow
self evident. I put her on the table, my anger started to subside.
In the background part of my mind continued to analyze what I'd
discovered. The conclusion was that I'd kidnapped a mad woman. It
wasn't good but it did calm me down.

"A joke," I said, "That's all. If I'd realized there was lemming
blood in your family I'd have been more careful."
"So it's a joke?"
"We need to discuss this, " I said, "But not now."
I pushed her back against the table and locked the chain to one of the
tables mountings. I wanted her secure before I proceeded any further.

"Now take the gloves off."

As she started to comply I went over to the cupboard and started to
root around inside. She was finished by the time I returned. She
eyed the new contraptions with some dread, she couldn't tell how upset
I was and she didn't know if this was some new torture device. It
took the treat of the crop to get her to place her hands behind her
back and hold steady while I pulled the single sleeve up her arms.
When it reached the top I buckled the top strap and replaced her
collar with the posture collar already attached to the sleeve. Next
came five minutes of tightening numerous straps. When I finished I
stepped back to admire my handiwork.

Houdini once said that straight jackets were easy to overcome once you
realized that they were designed to hold crazy people. This creation
from a fetish supplier in England made no such mistakes, made from
black leather with buckles everywhere it left no room for escape. She
was still struggling with it when I went to phase 2. First, I again
placed her hair in a ponytail. Then I reached for a nest of straps on
the table. She didn't know what most of it was for but she could
guess were the rubber ball was going.

"Please?"

"Open!" I commanded in no mood to be messed around.

She hesitated but not for long and I pushed the large rubber ball
firmly into her mouth. For some reason they call this a ball gag
trainer, despite the fact that it is considerably better designed than
a ball gag. As well as the usual ball and strap there is a harness
that attaches to the strap then runs either side of the victims nose
to buckle at the back of the head. A second strap passes under the
chin to force the jaw tightly closed around the ball. It is very
effective and has the added advantage that once locked in place it
can't be worked free even if the victim has the use of her hands.
Yesterdays fiasco would not happen again. Once everything was
strapped and locked I decided to keep her entertained and distracted.
I showed her what I had in mind, a vibrator and harness just as
inescapable as the rest of the bondage. It had an added twist, a
block of tiny rubber fingers that fastened over the clit and which the
designers claimed increased the stimulation without improving the
chances of achieving orgasm. This seemed like a good time to test it
.
There was a bit of a struggle getting it locked in place but when it
was finished the harness looked just like a tight pair of latex
panties. The only exception was the speed control knob which jutted
out between her legs. Reaching down I set her to simmer, and listened
to the small moans that escaped from behind the gag.

The head harness had a number of additional components which I'd put
in my pocket I quickly retrieved the blindfold section and fastened it
over her eyes using the snap fasteners provided. She just stood and
shivered as I completed my preparations. She didn't resist as I
fastened a pair of leg irons to her booted ankles. I looked down and
started to breath again, she'd been made safe. I didn't know what all
that was about but I was sure that there was no way she could hurt
herself now. I took her back to the cell, she started to whimper and
tried to say something. The trainer had been modified so that I
didn't need to remove it to get at the ball. I gently unlocked a
small padlock, undid a couple of buckles and popped the ball free.

"Please," She said, "I'm sorry I didn't mean....."
"You have one minute to furnish an explanation, or you are on
punishment Slave."

"Please, I can't."
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"A sss...ss..slave Master."
"What do slaves do?"
"Give pleasure to my Master and all others he designates."
Which was true but not what I wanted her to say.
"What is rule number one."
"Obey first time, every time."
"And if a slave doesn't."
Her lip trembled, "She is punished."
"So I'm giving you a direct order, I want you to tell me what this is
about right now!"
She paused, even with her eyes and most of her face
covered I could see a conflict underway.

At last she said, "It was what you said about a baby girl."

I smiled, though of course she couldn't see it. "What of it Slave," I
said, "As Master that is my right!"

It was the wrong thing to say. She started crying again. I tried to
get though but is was no good. In the end I attached the wire and
left her sobbing on the bed.

I now knew absolutely that there was something wrong. Her reactions
hadn't been right from the beginning. Her sudden mood swings, her
lack of backbone and now this. I had a number of theories most of
which revolved around major mental illness. One thing was certain I
was going to need expert help.

I made two calls. First I called Vicky at work. I explained that a
last minute personal problem had come up and that I'd have to postpone
things for a week. She seemed disappointed until I offered to pay her
for the cancelled session and take her to lunch to discuss future
plans. Next I called an old college friend, much to my relief she had
most of the afternoon off so I arranged to meet her at a bar we both
knew. I made my preparations, gave Caroline a drink and helped her to
the toilet. She was silent though out and I said as little as
possible. Then satisfied that she would be all right for the next few
hours I left.

Vicky worked as a Dental Hygienist in a section of town that didn't
have many good restaurants. I'd arranged to meet her outside the
front of her building then go to a little bistro I knew. As she
walked towards the car I knew I'd made a good choice. She was almost
exactly Caroline's height and build. Instead of Caroline's mane of
golden blond hair she had a short mousy bob and they didn't look much
alike in the face, but all in all I was satisfied. Any of the outfits
I had bought should fit with little difficulty and most importantly in
a blond wig and wearing Caroline's clothes they would be
indistinguishable in long shot.

Once we were at the restaurant I showed her my portfolio, shot's I'd
taken with Andy Pearson using some of his models. I had a few photo's
taken in Paris last year; Sam, Jean Paul and me, the two of us
chatting with Claudia. I'm not usually a name dropper but this was
the girl's first modeling job and I felt the need to convince her
that I wasn't some random freak. I paid her and apologized again then
we ordered.

She had a pleasing if somewhat dull personality and tended to limit
conversations to subjects she felt comfortable with. For the first
part of the meal the subject of teeth made up a large part of the
discussion. Then I lucked out and discovered she had a liking for
motorcycles. This was more up my alley and the second half of the
meal was more entertaining. I said my good-byes, promised to call and
headed for Boston.

Mike's is one of the hidden gems of Boston night life. Those who know
it call it the real "Cheers" a quiet unassuming Irish American bar
with a loyal clientele which doesn't feel the need to advertise or
cash in on the tourist trade. The regulars keep it their little
secret and to be accepted there feels as much a privilege as being a
member of some exclusive gentlemen's club. Mike's draws most of it's
regulars from the academic staff of the local universities. No one
knows how that came about but I suspect that it is far enough away
from any of the colleges to be outside undergraduate stagger range.
This allows the professors chance to meet, talk and drink without the
risk of student interruption. I arrived early and bought the first
round planting myself in my usual booth and waited. A number of
regulars passed and a few stopped to chat and the business of Mike's
flowed around me. I was part way through the Globe crossword when a
damp figure noisily shook her umbrella next to me.

I glanced up, "Hello Maggie, is it raining?"
"No," She said, "I just like carrying wet umbrellas about. For a
supposedly intelligent man Richard Cody you do say some of the most
stupid things." She pointed at the pint of Guinness on the table, "Is
that mine?" When I nodded she drank it at a surprising speed. The
waitress had already seen that coming and was heading in for the next
round.

"Same again?" I asked.

"Hell no. If you asked me to drop everything and head on over it
means you've got yourself a problem and that being the case I'm on a
professional rate." She smiled at the waitress. Tell George I'll
have a brandy and ginger ale, and I want VSOP non of that cheap
rubbish. Mr. Cody here tells me he's a paper millionaire lets see if
we can't make him spend some of it shall we."

I'd met Margaret O'Hanks during my postgraduate research. She was a
short slim redhead with wonderful green eyes and a pushy personality.
I can't remember exactly how we met but I think our attraction was
based on common need; I needed a friend and she needed a TV set.
I could virtually guarantee that three minutes before the start of
"Saturday Night Live" there would be a knock at the door and she would
just walk in sit down and watch it as if she owned the place. She had
also been my first gay friend and we spent many happy hours cruising
the bars for chicks. It hadn't done my ego any good that she seemed
better at picking up women than I was. For a time we had shared a
house forming an unlikely threesome with a tall, willowy, bisexual
blonde called Kathy. Three in a bed sessions had been quite common
though Maggie and I only ever did it together once which had been
enough to persuade her that penile sex was over rated. She was a keen
if sometimes viscous practical joker, and being her friend was no
protection. Some of her exploits had become legends yet surprisingly
she had been asked to stay on after graduation and had been there ever
since. She was now a well respected researcher in experimental
clinical psychology. As always she had guessed right, I needed
advice.

She hung up her coat and deposited the umbrella in the stand making it
back to the booth about the same time the drink did.

"Keep an eye this way dear and keep them coming," She said to the
waitress who sensing a large tip in the air started to orbit a
discrete distance from our table. Maggie took a sip and then looked
up and smiled.

"So Cody how's the love life, finally got over the Ice Queen."

"Her name is Samantha."

"I know what her name is," She said sharply. "And I also know that
you're well rid of her. Jumped up little bitch. Some women are made
too beautiful for their own or anyone else's good."

"You're only saying that because she turned you down!"

"She was tempted boy! Little miss smarty pants likes the boys all
right but she's got an itch in her pants only another woman can
scratch."

I smiled, this was an old argument one, we'd started almost
twenty years ago and it was still going strong. It was Maggie's
contention that everyone was bisexual, that screaming heteros and gays
were just extremes being 90% plus in one direction or the other. She
believed that it was only social taboo that stopped people
experimenting and realizing the truth. Of course she was willing to
help any girl who wanted to see if this was true, but that she claimed
did not invalidate the point.

I felt it was time to change the subject.

"Talking about itches how's things with you?"
A strange mixture of emotions played across her face, "I'm thinking of
becoming a nun."

"Why?"

"Hey, I've been celibate for almost nine months. If I'm going to do
without then I may as well get the recognition for it." She spat it
out with a bitterness I'd never seen before.
"Cheers," She downed the drink and as if by magic the waitress
appeared. "Same again."

"Look," I said feeling uncomfortable, "If this is a bad time..."

"No, look I'm just a little pissed off right now." She gave a deep
sigh. "Last Christmas there was a bit of a scandal, girl claimed a
professor offered to fix her grades for sex. Now just about everyone
knew she was lying, the guy she accused was more interested in this
years star quarterback for one thing but the Provost's office sent
around a memo about fraternization. Well you know."

"And you're taking it seriously?"

She scowled again, "It hasn't really stopped anyone. I don't think
anyone really trades grades but there are a lot of smart young women
attending college these days. If you're getting close to a girl,
especially if she's gifted and you want to give her extra help. Well
you know." She took another sip, "Current Provost doesn't like me.
Oh he'll turn a blind eye while some of this male friends play around
but you can bet that if I so much as look at a girl."

I nodded.

"And it's so unfair," She continued, "I'm interested, she's interested
and I know that if I see her some stoolie will blow the whistle so
fast I won't even have time to take my pantyhose off." She sat
and moped for a while I could tell she was twisted up inside. I
started to wish that I'd kept in contact more, but after Sam dumped me
I was too preoccupied and the past few months had been full of
preparations for the kidnapping.

Eventually she looked up and smiled "Anyway what about you."

I was tempted to forget about it, but that would leave me with a
dysfunctional and potentially suicidal slave. So I let another round
come by before I started into my story. I couldn't tell her the
complete truth of course, Maggie was ok but I couldn't really start
with "There is this girl I kidnapped..." So instead I told her the
story I had concocted in the car on the way up. I said that I'd met a
girl called Elizabeth at a college party. That we'd been attracted
and started dating, I said that she liked bondage sex and rough trade
that we had been going steady except that she had these little
incidents. I recounted the stories as close to how they happened as
possible omitting only the non consensual nature of her imprisonment
and the existence of the dungeon. Maggie listened without saying
anything but I noticed the occasional flicker of interest most of
which coincided with details of the bondage.

"You think she's crazy." It was a statement and her green eyes
watched intensely.

"I think it's a possibility," I said, "If I hadn't made such a bad job
of tying off that rope she could have hung herself."

"I'd really need to see her, do a full interview." She paused, " Look
I have a little practice outside the university she could go there."

I shook my head, "If she even suspects that I've spoken to a
psychiatrist she'd walk, I'm sure. She's a very private person if she
won't tell me, then god knows how she'd react to you."

She sipped her drink and in a quiet voice said, "Was she abused as a
child."

I frowned. "I don't think so. Her father was a minister," I said
hoping I hadn't given enough way that could link Caroline with
"Elizabeth".

"That doesn't mean anything. Nine times out of ten families involved
in incest look perfectly respectable from outside. It doesn't even
have to be a family member just someone with perceived authority over
the child. One thing to me seems telling, the girl has difficulty
attaining orgasm except when forced."

I scratched my head, I didn't see that but then I wasn't the
professional.

She glanced out of the window. It had stopped raining and was already
quite dark. A young woman was crossing the street dragging her seven
or eight year old daughter with her. For a moment I thought of
Caroline's imaginary dusty faced daughter. "Look at that child,"
Maggie said, "Assume that you wanted to have sex with her." I pulled
a face. "Look just concentrate on the practicalities. She is smaller
and weaker than you, something a lot of pedophiles find particularly
attractive. She has no chance of stopping you but when you're done
there is a problem; what if she tells. You could bribe her, but that
may not work, you could kill her but that's even worse. Threats are
much better and the best yet is to suggest to the child that they have
done something wrong. You see if you threaten to kill her or her
parents that may work, but even a child knows that you can't watch her
all the time. Sooner or later they'll feel safe enough to talk. Now
what if you tell her that she was responsible, that she was the one
that caused it and that if she is found out she will be the one
punished? Then she is never safe. The trusted adult that she may
otherwise talk to becomes a potential enemy. The rapist and the child
share a secret, one which the child believes is her fault. She
believes that any adult discovering the truth will punish her."

"I still don't see." I said, "Sorry if I seem a little slow but what
does this have to do with orgasms."

"Ever have performance anxiety Dick?" She smiled when she saw my face.
"Men's sexual wiring is fairly straight forward, stimulus, erection
ejaculation. Yet despite that a bit of emotional stress and the whole
thing shuts down. Women are far more connected emotionally far more
susceptible to emotional shutdown. Suppose that little girl grows up,
she thinks sex is dirty, evil and her fault. All the stress and
trauma get transferred to the act whenever she has sex she associates
it with that trauma and she shuts down. Now you perform a highly
symbolic mock rape one were she is told that she is nothing, a slave
with no choice, no responsibility. Do you see if she is forced she
has no responsibility. If you then demand orgasm as part of the
ritual not only is part of the opposing stimulus removed you are
adding extra incentive through threat of punishment."

"Seems somewhat unlikely," I said, "And it doesn't explain the recent
incident."

"Has she had an abortion?"

"Hell I don't know, it's not something that comes up in conversation.
She's a bible belter, I doubt she could find a clinic that hadn't been
burnt down."

"Exactly! To me that clinches it. Suppose he got her pregnant, he
knows the baby means discovery so he want's her to get rid of it.
She's been told all her life that abortion is evil so she resists. So
he threatens her, there is still a lot of stigma associated with being
an unmarried mother in some places, she's probably seen what happened
to other girls. So he tells her that her life is over if she keeps
the baby, tells her about the pointed fingers, the accusing looks."

The waitress swung in with yet another round.

"I need to see her Richard. If I'm even a little right about what's
going on here she needs at least counseling, possibly therapy."

"I don't think she's ready for that. What could I do for her, perhaps
if I could start the process then she may realize she has a problem."

She shook her head, "You know my feelings about amateur psychotherapy.
You're likely to do more harm than good. What you need to do is get
her to acknowledge the problem then find someone willing to take her
case. My offer still stands and you get the added benefit that I
can't hit on her if she's a patient."

I felt the need to extricate myself from the conversation.

"What else are you doing these days, at college."
She took the hint, "The physiology of social responsibility. We have
the use of an MRI. I'm trying to find what makes Mother Teresa
different from Ted Bundy."

"Oh," I said starting to wish that I hadn't changed the subject.

"What we discovered is quite interesting. Sociopaths tend to be very
intelligent, fastidious beyond belief and have real difficulty dealing
with people. Bit like you in fact."

"Thanks," I said, "Now you must excuse me I haven't killed someone for
over an hour."
She rolled her eyes, "We also discovered that under an MRI they have
certain abnormal characteristics, a general change in brain
morphology. The surprising thing is that this abnormality is shared
by 10 to 20% of our sample usually the more intelligent ones, yet
serial killers represent less than one percent of the general
population."

"Great," I said, "And I didn't feel secure before."

"What it means is that the structure of your brain has less impact on
what you do than the conditioning it receives through life. The
Manson family for instance. When we ran tests on Charlie we found
that he was far gone, but other members even those who committed
murder would be considered normal according to the scan. It's almost
as if they somehow became an extension of Manson, playing out his
madness."

I started to get interested. "How is that?"

"It's not that uncommon actually, over time people can become totally
dependant on one another even to the point where a person is basically
just an extension of someone else. They continue to function as
individuals but act in concert with another to the point were that
persons wants and desires become more important than their own. The
so called Stockholm Syndrome is a minor manifestation. I wrote a
paper on it last year something you would know if you bothered to look
me up now and then." The hint of bitterness had returned and I was
confused. We had only ever really been close friends, given her
sexual preference that was all that we could have been. Yet she
sounded like a neglected lover.

"Well I have to go," I said, "Got a trip to Seattle day after tomorrow
and I still need to pack."

"Wait," She said and I recognized the look of need in her eyes.

"Maggie? I didn't think?"

"Desperate times," She smiled weakly, "I have an itch. Don't worry I
won't hold it against you if the answers no."

"But why now?"

"What I said, about the child and the guilt. It wasn't entirely from
clinical experience."
She must have seen my shocked face.
"It was my uncle, both my parents worked and he was a postman. After
work he used to collect me from school and I'd stay with him until my
father came home. I always felt that was why I preferred to do it
with women, no bad associations. I can't even masturbate properly."

"Oh god!" I said and I was genuinely sorry.
She smiled weakly, "Nine months...."
"What do you want?"
"Do what you do with her," She begged, "I think it can work. It
removes the responsibility, the feeling of guilt."

"I can't," I said as the dark side of my brain screamed YES.
"Please, just this once. I won't blame you either way."
I looked into her eyes. "Have you done this before?"
She shook her head and my mind went into turmoil. She was almost
begging and it would answer some of the fantasies I'd had since
college. On the other hand I stood every chance of blowing things
with my oldest friend.

"If I agree there are a few ground rules. First you must call me
Master and yourself This Slut. Second for the next three hours you are
mine, you have no right to question any of my decisions. You will obey
first time every time. If you don't think you can do that walk away.

She looked up. I could tell it was a struggle, if there was anyone I
knew with a dominant personality it was her. To go to being a sub was
the most dramatic change I could think of.

She looked up, "Master, this slut is ready."
"Go into the bathroom and remove your panties and hose. Put them in
your bag." She blushed but stood and headed for the ladies. I
whistled the waitress over and settled the bill.

She came out of the toilet so red that several people inquired if she
was all right. To look you couldn't tell that she wore no panties but
she knew and she walked very carefully again causing comments from the
others.

I pulled her over, "What are you doing?"
"Please I...."
"This slut!" I hissed
"Please, the..this slut doesn't want them to see....."
"They won't if you move normally. You just bought your first
punishment, if you don't put your head up and strut out of here like a
slave slut should we'll make that two." Then we left, as ordered she
took long strides with her head back and when she found that her long
skirt still hid everything she started to relax and enjoy things.
She'd taken a taxi to get here so we wandered up the rapidly drying
streets towards my car.

I think she thought we were off to her apartment but I had other
plans. The sex shop was not one of my usual haunts, the ones in New
York carried a better stock, but I'd made a point of finding it in
case I had any special needs. This one had a female cashier which was
not as unusual as you might think, sex shops obey the same economic
laws as your local deli. The cashier looked up from her paper as we
entered but was smart enough not to comment. My principle interest
was restraints, I didn't carry any with me in case the car was
stopped. However that night I was feeling especially generous so I
browsed the female apparel section. The choice wasn't that good
mostly cheaply put together PVC and rubber items at over
inflated prices. Fortunately Maggie was relatively small and I found
a nice leather corselet that had obviously been overlooked. I
couldn't find matching gloves and boots but cheap PVC pairs would do
for now. I handed her my choice and nodded towards the changing
rooms. She blushed and started to open her mouth to say something but
catching my eye she stopped and did as she was told.

While she was gone I took a pair of handcuffs, a ball gag, a
blindfold, a collar, some cuffs and a pair of nipple clamps. I had
them put rapidly into a plain bag so that she couldn't see what I'd
bought. I glanced back towards the changing room and saw a gloved
hand reach out through the curtain and beckon. Smiling I asked the
cashier for another bag which I stuffed in my pocket.

Pulling aside the curtain I glanced inside. The change was
astonishing, it seemed that the leather loved her body, flowing over
her torso like fine black paint. Her nipples were already very hard
and pushed uncomfortably through the peepholes cut into the cups.
Down by her crotch traces of pubic hair showed around the point were
the corselet passed between her legs. I also noticed the zipper that
passed between her legs allowing easy access without the need to
remove the whole thing. All in all I was quite taken with the design
and decided to have something similar made for Caroline. The boots
and gloves were a bit of a disappointment, but if Maggie took to this
look I could always get her a decent set for next Christmas.

"Well Master what do you think?" The thrill was starting to get to
her and she was more like the fun loving kid I first knew. I
scratched my head as if undecided. In truth I'd already paid for
everything but I had something in mind.

"Don't know," I said, "Why don't you show the cashier?"

She looked shocked. "No I couldn't!"

"Why not?" I asked, "She doesn't know you and you'll never meet
again. Besides if she likes it you may have found someone who will
scratch that itch a bit more regularly."

Her nipples had hardened some more and I knew it was only a few
minutes before her brain did what her body already wanted. "Strut
slave, remember you are your Masters slut. Do it with pride."

She started to walk towards the cashier slinking along with no
difficulty. Maggie had always loved high heels and had quite a few
years practice on poor Caroline. There were no accidents, no
tottering, she just oozed towards the desk while behind her I pulled
out the bag and got busy.

She was a big hit with the cashier as I walked towards the counter
they were already exchanging numbers.

"She likes it," Maggie said with some glee, "Are you going to buy it?"
"Already have, " I said and passed over her jacket. Then she realized
what was in the other bag. I followed her gaze, "Yep we're wearing it
out." Her face was filled with horror. I had given her a short
leather jacket, her overcoat, and purse were with the rest of her
clothes in the bag. Before she had time to think I picked up the bag
of restraints and headed for the door. It took a while for her to
catch up I was walking deliberately fast and running in high heeled
thigh boots isn't easy even for an expert.

"You...You.."
I smiled, "I knew you couldn't take it," I said, "So you want to give
up."
Maggie never gave up. It was her creed, she would never admit that
she couldn't cut it. I knew that she was fuming but in the end all
she said was, "You are walking too fast Master!" I smiled and slowed
down. We'd parked a fair distance away and the walk was quite
interesting. She managed to fasten the jacket over her erect nipples
but is was obvious from her breathing that they were rubbing on the
lining. A faint odor told me that she was now truly damp.

At the street corner two working girls stood and touted for custom.
Hearing the click of heels on concrete they turned. Maggie was quite
a sight, The jacket hid most of the outfit down to the waist but her
shiny gloved hands gave some hint of what was underneath. The leather
covered crotch was a bit of a give away too as were the vinyl thigh
boots. They made the obvious conclusion that Maggie was intruding on
their territory. If she had been alone they would probably have taken
it from her hide but I was either a customer or her pimp and whore
etiquette meant that nothing would happen now. Maggie could sense the
hostility and started to fall back.

"Hey mister, she with you?"
"Yep," I said stopping at the corner to allow her to catch up."
"How much she charge you?" The shorter one asked.
Maggie was close enough now to hear the conversation. I turned towards
her.
"A C note wasn't it love?"
She was lost for words, the short whore wasn't.
"Hang on I know her." Maggie winced, the thought of anyone she knew
seeing her like this was unbearable.

"Hey Red didn't the doctor tell you not to go out again until the
infection cleared up!" The taller one got the idea and ran with it.
"That's right Red you have to finish all the tablets." Maggie was too
horrified to speak. "I'd leave her alone if I was you, she's got the
clap. Now both me and Trudy are clean and we'll even take you at
the same rate."

I turned to her looking shocked, "Is this true?" I could see she
wanted to die.
"N.....no please."
It was time to put her out of her misery.
"Sorry ladies but the police doctor assures me that my partner here is
free from all diseases."
Now it was their turn to wince. The small one swore.
"You lucked out girls, we're not Vice and we're too tired to work out
jurisdiction. I turned to Maggie. "If we let them off we can get
back sooner. What do you think?"
Maggie had pulled herself up to her full height and was smiling, she
gave the girls a reasonable imitation of a thousand yard stare.

"I should run you in by rights," She said sounding unsure, "But then
there's the paperwork."
Feeling uncomfortable and afraid Maggie would change her mind they
moved on taking the occasional glance back at us until we were out of
sight.

She felt better when we got in the car.

"Can I ask for a time-out here."
"What's the matter Slave can't cut it."
"I can cut it. All I want is a 2 minute time-out.
"Ok," I said,"But we add the two minutes on at the end."
"Is this how you treat this Elizabeth girl?"
"Nope, it's the way I treat you?"
"Why?"
"Well for a start there's my twenty first birthday party when you left
me naked and handcuffed to that tree. What was it you said, something
like if you can't torture your friends who can you torture? "
She turned white, "God I forgot all about that."
I turned and smiled, "I didn't."
"That was different, it was a joke!"
"It was snowing."
"Not when we started. Do you mean that you've been
saving that for all these years"
"Revenge is a dish best served cold," I said with the biggest smile I
could manage. Then some of the tension broke and she started
laughing.
"God I feel like I'm eighteen again. Were we nuts or what?"
"Still are!" I said, "You only grow old if you want to. End of
time-out!"

We stopped of at a seven eleven on the way back to buy some general
supplies. I felt sure that the cashier should have figured out what I
was doing, buying duct tape, clothes line and the like. He didn't
seem to think it odd or pass comment, probably relieved I wasn't
trying to rob him.

I got back to find her rubbing her crotch.

"Naughty slave," I said and reached for the restraints bag. I'd
already tried the key in the handcuffs and added them to my key ring
so all I needed to do was feel for the metal object. I made her lean
forward and before she knew what was happening I'd cuffed her hands
behind her.

The smell of hot cunt still filled the car and she squirmed
occasionally looking to get a bit more sensation. We drove to her
apartment complex, she didn't have a car but she did have a space in
the basement car park. I used her key and headed down. Once there I
relented a little and fastened the overcoat about her shoulders. Of
course it couldn't do anything about the fuck me heels but it hid most
of the outfit and the handcuffs. Her apartment was near to the
elevator so I decided to take one last risk. While we waited in the
empty car park I went through the bags and collected a few items.

"Open wide."
"What?"
"I'm going to gag you," I said sweetly.
A look of horror suddenly spread over her face. "Oh god not here.
These are my neighbors!" She saw the look in my eye and opened her
mouth. I shoved her panties firmly inside, of course she was no
stranger to pussy juice so they probably tasted familiar. I few
strips of duct tape later and she was effectively gagged. I was
pleased with the result but it was a little obvious. As Maggie was a
consensual partner it was not quite as critical as if I was
transporting Caroline, if we were caught we would be embarrassed but
non of us would go to jail. Still I wanted to give her the thrill
with minimal actual risk. So I took a head scarf I'd bought at the
convenience store and tied it around her head. I deliberately tied it
a little forward so that it concealed the gag from the side. If
someone looked her square in the face they could see it easily but I
had no intention of giving them that opportunity. The elevator
arrived, mercifully empty and we went to the back. There I had her
turn towards the side wall allowing the scarf to hide the gag more
completely. The elevator went up slowly. I gradually became aware of
the smell of hot pussy; for all her protests this was obviously a turn
on for her. Maggie lived on the fourth floor and we had both hoped
that the lift would stay empty but at the first floor the door opened
and a middle aged couple got on. I thought I heard a little gagged
squeal and I thought they must have heard it too. Worse the hot pussy
smell was very obvious in such a small space. Any second I expected a
comment so trying to head it off I went into my planned routine. Of
course unlike a real captive Maggie had no intention of drawing
attention to herself so she was already facing the wall and looking
down at the floor. I stepped between her and the couple and started
to continue an imaginary conversation, a long involved discussion on
the Boston Tea Party that I'd had to memorize for school. As planned
the couple phased us out and we could have been painted pink for all
they cared.

They got off at the next floor. The one risk now was that there was
someone waiting for the elevator on four. Not only was there little
chance of us getting off unnoticed but the chances of someone
recognizing her were greater. She realized this and rubbed her taped
mouth against my arm in a very Caroline gesture. I pulled her forward
so that she was near the controls and positioned myself in front of
her. Her eye's were wild she made a few gagged noises obviously
wishing to be ungagged.

"Trust me?"
She closed her eyes for a second then nodded.
"Good girl."
The events were having a great effect on my erection and secret
bondage in public had always been one of my fantasies. I imagined the
other couple going back to their apartment and continuing there lives
never realizing that the girl in the elevator was a prisoner. "Now
when the lift stops go between me and the right wall. I will move
with you. If there is someone in the corridor turn to face the wall
and act upset."

It turned out to be unnecessary as four was empty. I played around
finding the right key for a while feeling her panic mount. Finally I
got her inside. The smell of hot cunt was now overpowering. I took
off scarf, overcoat and handcuffs. She reached for the gag but a
quick slap on her hand stopped her.

"Not yet!" I handed her the shaving supplies I'd bought and pointed
at her crotch. "I'm sure you know the routine now loose it. Leave a
little for decoration but the rest goes."

While she headed for the bathroom I started to prepare the bedroom. I
tied a couple of lengths of cord to the legs at the bottom of her bed
and waited. She came out with the crotch zip open to show her nude
cunt I passed her the cuffs.

"Wrists and ankles, now!"
She complied and I rewarded her by removing the gag.
"Ok Slave, dildos and vibrators, where?"
She pointed at the bedside cabinet. There was an impressive
collection and I had no trouble finding a nice powerful little friend
to keep her company. I made her turn and fastened her cuffed wrists
together with a short length of cord. Then I introduced her cunt to
the vibrator and pulled the zipper up to lock it in place. Her hips
started to quake and while she was distracted I pushed the ball gag
into her mouth and fastened it tightly. She complained but there was
little she could do. "Dance slave," I said, "Do a good job and I'll
release you." She danced, not as well as Caroline but then I doubt
she had the same imagination. Towards the end she moved her body
against mine her eyes sparkling when she saw the size of my erection.

I took her to the bed and used the cords to spread her legs. I chose
now to show her the nipple clamps. This she didn't like as much but
with her erect nipples still poking through the peepholes she had
little protection. I applied the blindfold and felt her body tremble
as her helplessness increased. I knew that she wasn't very good at
the old skin flute so I didn't bother to ungag her. Instead I removed
the vibrator from her damp box. Sam had demanded oral sex and had
taken the time to school her various beau's on the correct technique.
I know that I probably wasn't going to be as good as some of Maggie's
partners, ownership promotes a certain understanding, but the little
noises from behind the gag told me that she appreciated it.

I teased, deliberately denying her completion, she groaned. A gentle
tug on the nipple clamps every now and then kept her interested and
when I knew she was ready I stopped.

I reached up and removed the nipple clamps. Then momentarily freeing
her legs I tied her ankle cuffs to her thighs using large hanks of
cord. When I'd finished she was helpless and unable to protect her
naked cunt.

I smiled "Well Slave time has come to fuck your worthless cunt. It's
no good resisting because you're helpless. Struggle slave and see! "

She did, it was futile. I'd practiced on Caroline were escape meant
prison, Maggie had patiently let me tie her up.

"Scream slave. Perhaps the neighbors might hear."
This had worried me. Not knowing how thin the walls were I had the
roll of tape nearby in case the gag needed supplementing. It didn't,
even when I encouraged her to really let rip there was nothing that
could attract attention.

"Guess not," I said and slowly removed my clothes letting the bound
girl shiver in anticipation.

I pulled her over and as with Caroline positioned her on top. Her
bound legs would mean that I'd have to do most of the trusting and
that would make it slow but the feeling of complete helplessness was
what we were after and she was.

"I'm going to rape you now," I said "I'm going to force you to cum you
little whore if you like it or not. And if you don't cum this time
perhaps a pussy whipping will persuade you."

I felt her tremble. Then I started and as the excitement built I
taunted her. Telling her to scream, that it made no difference
because the gag kept her silent, that the bonds stopped her struggles.
That I had made her helpless and I was in charge and that I decided
her pussy should be fucked and that I wanted her to cum for me or she
would be punished. Each time I emphasized the *I* hammering the
message home that she was helpless that it was my will and my
responsibility. I felt the heat rising as those nine long months came
bubbling to the surface and heard the gagged screams as she came again
and again.

Afterwards she made me a light snack and a drink. She seemed quiet,
subdued and quite happy. She told me that it had been all that she'd
wanted, and the first time she had ever orgasmed with a man. The
cashier from the sex shop was apparently a sub in search of a
mistress, and Maggie thought that she might give it a try now that she
knew the ropes so to speak. She was happy and I felt relieved, the
entire event practical jokes and all seemed to have strengthened our
friendship.

Maggie hinted that she might want to try this again and an evil
thought came into my head, after all I'd always liked the idea of two
girls in bondage. So with that happy thought I departed back to the
house and Caroline.

It was nearly midnight when I returned to the house. A quick video
check found that she was well and still as tightly bound as I left
her. I made two coffees and headed down. She moaned and attempted to
move when I entered. Helping her up I removed the blindfold then
waited as she greedily downed the coffee. Then she looked at me with
those large expression filled blue eyes.

I smiled, "Slave, we have got to talk."