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In addition, the portion of the story line at the end, with 
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Punished - A Seminal Tail

By Caitlain McCarren

I failed!  I failed miserably.  Mistress says I forget 
myself: miss opportunities to serve her and my master.  
She sites several occasions.  Worse, she says she forgave 
those transgressions.  I know she's been generous and 
forgiving.  The straw that broke the camel's back was 
yesterday, when I spoke back to her.  It was such a little 
thing.  She told me to pick up the dirty clothes.  It's a 
chore I do everyday anyway.  She just asked that I do it then 
instead of an hour from then when it was in my usual 
schedule.  I didn't even say no.   I just mumbled under my 
breath while I did it.  It was a mistake, a big mistake.  

"You forget why you're here.  You had the temerity to 
question my orders.  Admittedly you did it under your breath.  
It's the fact you did it at all, that you find yourself in 
this position."  This position is wrists crossed in the 
center of my back, they and my bound ankles tethered to the 
post and my neck tethered to the ceiling, a tether short 
enough to keep me standing on tip toes.  The discipline hood 
is tightly laced over my head.  The earcups, when not 
carrying her irate voice, steadily pump out high amplitude 
white noise.  The straps are so tight my head throbs.  I see 
nothing, I hear nothing, I speak nothing for the foot long, 
two inch round, jelly penis gag stuffed in my mouth and down 
my throat.  

Frankly, Mistress is correct, as always, and it may be that I 
get my just reward.  It is just so very difficult to stand en 
Pointe like this, I hope that Master takes pity on me when he 
returns home.  It seems like I stood here like this a day.  
Suddenly the noise stops.  With the blood rushing in my ears 
I don't notice at first.  When I finally do, I summon all my 
will to stand straight and tall for my master.  I do so want 
to please him so he may show me some leniency.  I strain with 
the effort to remain tall and still.  I hope he will speak.
I hope he will chastise me, but then loose the neck tether.
I'm trying so very hard to remain still on my toes.  Finally,
exhausted, I can't hold position any longer.  As I begin
teetering on my toes my ankles release and the neck tether
tugs cruelly as my heels touch floor.  I'm immediately back
up on one foot to relieve the tension around my neck.

Barely able to breathe, again I hear the laugh through my 
earcups.  It's a woman's laughter, high pitched, nearer a 
cackle than a chuckle.  "No dear, I'm not your Master.  
Though I'm impressed with that physical display, I'll show no 
pity.  You get what you deserve.  Your Master just called.  
He won't be home for another two hours.  If you save your 
strength you could try that again.  It might impress him 
enough to let some slack in the rope around your neck.  Even 
if it does, you'll pay in other ways, deary.  Huh, ha, ha."  
Then the dead air again, just noise.

I'm crushed.  She just wore the fight out of me, or, more to 
the point, she let me do it to myself.  I can't any longer 
use both feet to stand.  It just hurts too much.  So I'm left 
to swap foot to foot until he comes in.  This in turn doubles 
the pressure, instead of my weight balanced evenly on both 
sets of toes all my weight now rests on just one set.  I 
shift my weight foot to foot.  I shift more and more often.
If she had just left me alone I'd have made the next two
hours.  Right now I don't know if I'll last the next ten
minutes.  Bitch!  Oh, Oh, I've got to stop thinking like
that.  It's what got me into trouble in the first place.
Please, help!  I can't make it.  "Oh, please, Mistress," I
try thinking out loud,  "I'll never show myself to be cross
or angry again.  I'll do anything you say, anything at all,
just please loose the rope around my neck, please."

Then I feel it.  No, it can't be.  She couldn't.  She 
wouldn't.  Aiiieeee, she is.  Ahhhhh, she just turned on a 
vibrator and is holding it to the hood of my clit.  In- 
stantly, I arouse.  My nipples become instantly tight and 
erect and the scent of my own lubrication fills one of the 
two senses left to me.  It arouses me further, and I'm 
willing to bet, arouses her too.  She's using the other sense 
to toy with me.  While holding the vibrator to the hood over 
my clit she is absent-mindedly licking at my nipples, 
occasionally nipping at them too.  The push-pull is going to 
kill me.  I want so desperately to chase the orgasm.  It's 
right there, I know I'm close!  If I do I'll faint, my heels 
will touch floor and I'll hang myself!  She knows it: what a 
total bitch!  I suddenly hear the cackle again, and then as 
if she read my mind she utters "Cast Iron Bitch, wench, make 
sure you have it straight," then just the noise!

She doesn't believe I'll kill myself to come.  Unfortunately, 
she's probably right.  Oh, she's moved the vibrator.  She's 
rubbing it between my pussy lips.  It feels so good there.  
"Oh, please," I try to think out loud again, "oh, please, 
Mistress, push it in there.  Oh no, oh no, Mistress, take it 
out.  Oh, please, oh please, push it in.  Oh no, oh no, take 
it out."  She's playing with me, strumming the strings of my 
lust, making the music of my ill-used soul.

She's stopped, I think.  Wait, what's that? She's wrapping it 
around my waist.  My chastity belt, it's my chastity belt.  
She's pushing her hand between my thighs.  She's pulling the 
end through.  She's putting it back in!  It's running!  Oh, 
no!  She's going to lock it in place!  I don't think I can 
stand it!  Can I withstand the sensual assault?  I've got to.  
I've just got to.  She's made it a contest.  How long can I 
endure?  The prize may be my life.  Is she that callous?  
Would she risk that much: my very life?  Stupid question!  
She's already risking it.  I've got to concentrate.  I've 
got to resist.  Aaaughnnn!  Got ... to ... resist!  Aaaugh!

Aaaaoooooooh!  It seems I've come back to my senses, at least 
enough to think about taking stock.  I'm in a new position.  
I don't remember being repositioned. I was really out of it.  
My ankles are rebound crossed left over right.  I'm kneeling.  
Obviously the tether about my neck has been released.  It 
seems it's used to connect my wrist tether to my ankle 
tether, for my body arches back because of it.  My calves 
cramp badly, and my open thighs are on the verge.  The 
chastity belt is still in place and my friend warmly buzzes 
away beneath.  Nipple clips have been applied and a small 
vibrator hangs between exciting them.  Oooh!  I'm feeling 
chilled!  It seems really cold and clammy.  I could be 
experiencing shock.  Oooh, auuughn!

"Wakies! Wakies, oh useless wench!  Your master returns, and 
he has new attire for you to don."

I hear through the earcups the door swing open.  "Hi, honey, 
how's our infractious wench?  Have you been punishing her 
properly?" asked my master.

"I've tried to stop short of total abuse.  She near killed 
herself to come earlier.  I don't think she managed, though 
she fainted dead away.  I had to cut her quickly loose, lest 
she strangle herself.  I've tried to rearrange her in at 
least as flattering a form while she relaxes.  What do you 
think?"

"Pretty," he allowed.  "I especially like the sheen from 
perspiration you managed to raise.  It seems she's had quite 
a workout.  Do you think you've prepared her?  Will she give 
us any further trouble?"

"I've kept her on a hot simmer since the strangulation 
incident.  It would take nothing more than your caress to 
bring on an earth-shattering orgasm just now.  Won't you 
try?"

"If true, I'd like to see that.  All right, let's try her!"

Then noise.  To leave me in anticipation they cut out the 
sound so I won't hear him coming.  It has the desired affect.  
I long for Master's touch, now.  I do so hope he will release 
me and I am determined to do anything that will please him to 
gain it.  In the end it is just as mistress has predicted.  
The rough handling, the constant stimulation, the general 
hostile atmosphere, conspires to keep me on sexual edge.  He 
cups a breast and kneads it gently and a moment latter I am 
over the edge, on my way, and trembling with delight.  He 
grabs a handful of my mane, rolls my head back and to the 
right and starts planting kisses, oh so softly, slowly, 
working his way toward my neck.  The stars fill my vision, 
even with my eyes closed tightly.  I go limp with lust.  The 
warm tinglies invade down there.  The orgasm rocks me back 
so; I faint dead away at the very moment he kisses "that" 
spot on my neck.

I come back to my senses to find myself at the same level of 
sexual tension.  I know I'm badly abused, but frankly, right 
now, this horny, I care not.  I just want him to touch me 
again!  "Please, Master," I think out loud, "do that again.  
Just touch me, please.  I'm your devoted slave, I'll do 
anything at all you ask, anything at all, just touch me like 
that again, please, Master!"  But, it seems my pleas go 
unanswered.  My anticipation wanes not.  I cry out my 
expectations around the gag, "Meef, meef?"

Then, blessed silence.  I hope he'll speak.  "I'm yours, 
Master," I think, "command me."

I hear his breath.  Then I feel it, hot, heavy, on my 
shoulder.  I turn my head left, and tip it back, to allow 
access to my neck.  "Uhm, Danielle, you smell delicious," I 
hear in my right ear.  His voice alone sets my abdomen 
aflame.  "Will you allow me to take a bite, Danielle?"  
I nod my affirmation furiously.  My climax approaches.  
"Very good, dear.  Danielle, before I send the wave crashing 
on you again, I need reassurances for myself, and for your 
mistress."  

Instantly I nod, thinking, "OK!  OK!  Anything you ask, 
anything at all!  Just touch me!"

"Wait, Danielle, before you agree to anything further, you 
must know to what you agree."  I stop nodding to listen.  
"Good girl!  First, am I your master?"  I nod.  "Am I a good 
master, Danielle?"  I nod again.  "Well would you say I'm 
fair and kind, Danielle?"  I nod.

His proximity, his breath, drives me crazy with desire.  
"Just touch me, Master.  Your caress will melt my will like 
butter.  I'll let you kill me, if you kill me with that 
touch!"  Then, as if he read my mind.  "No, not yet, 
Danielle.  I'll not touch you and send you into those lovely 
spasms until we're through this.  Pay attention Dear One."  
His words sooth my mind, but not the lust.

"Now being fair, you must agree that what mistress has told 
you, at my direction, about your behavior is true, is it 
not?"  I nod.  "Do you believe you serve us any better than 
your Mistress believes you have?"  I pause, then negatively 
shake my head.  "Well, then, your Mistress insists that what 
she's done here is a fair shot at punishment and she is 
willing to be lenient further, but, Danielle, punishment is 
simply not discipline.  Further she insists you must be 
disciplined for your transgressions.  So I decided, over the 
next ten weeks you are to suffer discipline at her hand.  It 
is she who bears the brunt of your intransigence, so she has 
the right to punish you.  Danielle, do you agree to submit, 
at my behest, to satisfy my wife's requirement for your 
discipline?"  I nod.  "Even if she is the one to choose the 
way in which you're disciplined?"  I pause.  "Danielle, I 
could just let her take over your pending orgasm!"

Instantly, I shake my head, "No! No! Master please, don't 
let her near me."

He continues, "Very well, Danielle, but, you must agree to 
discipline at her hand weekly even knowing she selects the 
mode of that discipline."  I pause, but only a moment before 
I nod, relenting.  What is there to do, it's his wife, she 
will be denied nothing.  He'll let her do it anyway whether 
I agree or not, just to punish me for disagreeing.  "Very 
good, Danielle.  Now, as for what I want.  I've been out 
shopping today.  I purchased a few pieces of very pretty 
attire for you to wear and over that same period of time I'd 
like you to model the attire for me.  It's fair to say I 
don't want to see you again after this unless you wear these 
pretty things for me.  They are foundation garments so it may 
seem I won't see them all the time anyway.  This is true, but, 
trust me, I'll know you aren't wearing them.  Will you agree, 
Danielle, to wear these garments, to please me, Dear Heart?  
If you'll agree, I'll let you come."

Well, by now all this talk and no action have my fire waning 
and I am afraid we'll never get back to my orgasm.  All he 
wants is for me to wear pretty lingerie?  What is the 
problem?  Without thinking too much about it, I nod 
affirmatively.  This is the second big mistake in as many 
days, though I don't know it yet.

"Very, well, Danielle.  Thank you for wanting to please me, 
Dear Heart."  He cups and kneads my left breast, playing with 
the nipple with his thumb.  He touches me down there, rubbing 
between my navel and sex, and instantly my flame is high, and 
my blood is just about to boil.  To bring the boil to full 
and rolling he starts planting kisses from the outside of my 
shoulder to my collarbone.  Then he licks from there to under 
my ear where he nibbles intermittently just to see to it I 
come for what must be ten minutes of real time, but seems 
endless to me.  This time I don't faint and it is delicious.  
Finally I come down exhausted and just lay in his arms.  He 
holds me for several more minutes before he speaks again.  
"Now dear, to let you out so you can wear your new pretty 
things.  Bear in mind your punishment continues while your 
discipline begins, Danielle."  I find this confusing, but in 
the afterglow I let it go.

I think they will start with the hood, but that is not to be.  
They instead cut the tether between wrist and ankle and my 
weight springs up and forward at the instant release of the 
tension.  Unfortunately, unprepared, I loose my balance and 
fall forward until the tether between wrist and post stop my 
forward motion in opposition to my forward momentum.  The 
sudden reapplication of tensions and my entire weight thrown 
forward place an incredibly painful pull on my wrists and 
elbows to the point I think them rent asunder.  The cry of 
pain escapes around the gag and through my nostrils and I'm 
sure is heard 'round the room.

Master immediately pushes back on my shoulders in relief.  I 
shake with sobs caused by the wracking pain.  "I'm so sorry 
dear," I hear Master speak, "I didn't know that would happen.  
It was entirely accidental."  With his body holding me 
upright, my breasts pressing to his strong, ample chest, the 
fire re-lights.  Master reaches behind and cuts the wrist 
tether.  Laying the knife down at our side and placing his 
strong hands upon each shoulder, he gently lowers me to the 
floor.  All the while he is muttering epithets aimed at 
Mistress.  There he picks up the knife and uses it to cut 
the loop around my wrists loose.  Slowly he adjusts my arms 
until they lay out in front of me at right angles to each 
other.  I turn my head to the side, the better to breathe, 
and continue to sob.  He lets me rest there for some time.  
When the pain sub-sides I bring my hands together to rub the 
pain from my wrists.  This he allows for some minutes.

When he thinks me rested he checks my joints and bones to 
know all is whole.  He rubs loose my shoulders.  He then 
snaps on and locks my wrist restraints.  To these he attaches 
a two-foot spreader bar and to this a rope.  Slowly he pulls 
the rope attached to the block and pulley and lifts me up and 
back until I am on my feet.  He takes stock of me for a 
moment and continues to pull until my toes just touch down.  
My feet are bound back by the ankle to post tether.  This he 
releases with the knife a moment latter and catches me above 
the knees to guide me forward.  At this time he shoes me with 
six-inch heels locking them in place with what I was later to 
find to be a four-inch diameter ring between.  I am now most 
severely hobbled and back to teetering on my toes.  Master 
adjusts the block and tackle again taking up the slack from 
my release and seeing to it I stand with my towering heels 
up off the floor.  "Sorry, Dear One.  The shoes are 
Mistress' affectation, not my own.  She insists.  You must 
wear them for the duration.  Relax Dear One. Let your body 
relax and stretch out.  After that horrible ordeal with the 
ropes you must stretch to relax."  

"Here is the warm water you requested, Master, and the soap, 
and sponge," Mistress' voice chimed.  

"Very well kitten.  Will you give our charge a sponge bath?  
Make her feel warm and cared for, won't you? A lot of lather 
and gentle strokes of the sponge," asks Master.  This makes 
me a bit skittish, the Mistress' torments earlier setting me 
on edge at the thought of her touching me now.  However, in 
short order mistress has me purring with pleasure.  Her 
gentle kneading, lathering the soaps she applies to me, the 
gentle strokes of the loofa to rinse it off, lingering 
spongiform caresses around my breasts, buttocks, and sex, all 
conspire to soon relax me entirely.  Master adjusts the rope 
holding me up when my body has relaxed enough to allow my 
heels to touch floor.  Mistress finishes her ministrations 
and they withdraw to allow me to relax further.  They 
eventually close the communications and the static returns to 
my ear, but not so loud this time.

It seems I wait a lifetime for what is to come.  I believe 
they are trysting in the corner before my less than fully 
aware self and the thought of them copulating warms my loins 
and mind with jealousy.  Eventually Master readjusts the rope 
one last time and I am left with the toes of my new shoes just 
barely touching.  The sound comes back on and I hear feet 
shuffling and a low buzz is present all about the room.  He 
bound up Mistress!  By the sounds she is to suffer her own 
share of degradation, humiliation, and forced denial.  I hear 
a murmur from behind an obviously ball-gagged mouth and have 
a secret smile at her expense when she cries out her 
frustration.  I just hope I don't make it obvious behind my 
mummer's countenance.

I hear Master rolling something across the floor in front of 
me.  It stops and he walks across to from where he came and 
then back to me.  "Now this may tickle just a bit going on, 
Dear One," says Master. "Bear up!"  He approaches from my 
front and swings his arms around me to the back.  When his 
arms sweep forward he encircles my waist and begins fastening 
what it is up the front.  Whatever it is, as he closes the 
front it pushes my breasts up and together.  It pinches some 
under my arms.  Then he finishes the fastening down, down my 
sex, down my thighs to my knees.  "There, Dear One, almost 
ready."  Master then releases the straps on my discipline 
hood and the throbbing intensifies momentarily before sub- 
siding over several minutes.  He loosens the laces at the 
back then slowly removes the hood.

It's very bright and it takes a moment for my blinking eyes 
to adjust.  When I do I catch sight of myself in the 
full-length floor mirror he rolled before me.  My body is 
covered in slick silver over black fabric from just above my 
knees to just under my arms.  My breasts are held up by a 
pair of contoured shelves in which they fit, leaving my 
nipples and now abundant cleavage exposed.  The heels are 
covered in the same iridescent fabric.  It is beautiful and 
if I get my matted hair cleaned up I might look quite 
beautiful in it.  Almost as interesting as my new lingerie 
was the silvery flash I was seeing beyond it.  Obviously 
Mistress fights some stress as the flashes are quite 
pronounced, but the mirror hides the nature of her torment 
from me. Despite her earlier torments of me I hope Master 
will relieve her soon as it is obvious she suffers badly.  

Master reaches up before me, drawing my attention and 
releases the excessive gag that has filled my mouth and 
throat for many hours.  I gag a little as it moves but it is 
cleared quickly and I cough to clear the accumulation that 
formed behind it.  I swallow to clear having no other way to 
dispose of it. I work my jaw back and forth just to ease the 
expected cramping and allow my mouth to close.  Master 
positively hates a slack jaw and punishes it most severely.  
"Do not speak," he admonishes me.  He walks behind me and 
makes adjustments to the garment he drapes on me.  Then in 
one fast, smooth motion, he draws three feet of slack from 
what are laces on each side.  This closes down the waist 
magically about three inches.  I let out a squeak of surprise 
and gasp.  "Too much, Dear Heart?" he asks.

I whisper back, "Maybe too much at one time, Master?  Please, 
continue as you please."

"Very well, then."  He repositions his hands so as to 
conserve what was drawn in.  I look in the mirror and note my 
strangulated waist and the accentuated curve of my hip.  I 
look in the mirror and catch his eye looking back.  "Do you 
like it?" he queries.

"It gives much definition to my waist and hips, but leaves my 
tits exposed, Master.  I presume you have something in mind 
for them?" I query in reply.

He answers, "Yes, and you'll soon see, Dear Heart, you'll 
soon see.  Ready?"  I nod in reply.

We lock eyes in the mirror and he waits.  Soon I sigh, and as 
I breathe out he draws in another three inches.  Not 
expecting this I loose the recovery breath and become a 
little dizzy.  He grabs me and holds me until I seemingly 
recover.  "I think that is enough for a few minutes," he 
states quietly.  " I'm going to lace down the girdle."  He 
proceeds and my thighs are drawn tightly together, further 
exaggerating my hips.  "We'll take a little break dear.  If 
you allow I'll wash and dry your hair."  He pulls up a chair 
and adjusts the block and tackle allowing me to lay back into 
it.  My movement in the garment is limited and my posture is 
more one of supine recline.  It does leave my head hanging 
over the back of the chair, perfect for washing, rinsing and 
blow-drying.  Master does a superb job, as usual, and I 
otherwise totally relax losing track of time.  When dry he 
gathers my hair and ties it up at the back of my head.  
"Done."  He re-adjusts the block and tackle standing me up 
on my toes again.  "Did you want to see what I have in mind 
for your breasts, Dear One?"

"I'm not sure, Master.   I realize I will eventually.  Do you 
want to show me?"

"Well, the two of you are just hanging around and I guess it 
couldn't hurt.  We have to wait for you to catch up with your
stays anyway."  With this he walks to the mirror and reveals
his handy work. By rolling it away he reveals Mistress, in
her own very pretty garment with her waist drawn tighter than
mine, caught in a web of glistening strings.  She struggles
still, and every awkward move she makes tugs at her.
"Ingenious, isn't it?  Any move of resistance pulls
mercilessly at those nipples."

My shocked response is, "Have mercy, Master."

"Mercy, huh, did she show you any mercy?  This is her
punishment for taking excessive liberty with my property.
Namely you," he replies.

I look again.  Hanging over Mistress' bosoms is a frame the
purpose of which is to give leverage to pull at her nipples.
The frame hangs out over her breasts and hanging from
threads almost impossible to see at this distance is a large
heavy block.  The strings to the block don't seem to tug
directly at her nipples though.  There are four anchor
points, one above her head, one in front of her feet and two
more diagonally behind and to the outside of each ankle.
Strings run in all directions between her ankles, her waist,
her neck, her wrists, the anchor points, and of course her
lovely purple distended nipples.  "Oh, my. She looks to be
in agony, Master."

"She is Dear Heart, but trust me it is a sweet agony.  Her
nipples are now distended about six inches but before I
release her in about fifteen minutes they'll be distended
nearly ten.  She's undoubtedly come at least six times
already, and it is likely she'll come ten times more before
the agony ends.  She positively hates this form of torment
so I use it to punish her.  The wonder of the arrangement is
that it doesn't matter what direction she moves, any movement
creates a tension in one string and a corresponding slack in
another string.  The tension is employed to further distend
the nipples, the slack is taken up by the weight hanging from
the front, thus reloading the 'trap', so to speak.
Accelerating the weight causes it to become a tensioner after
it drops a few inches, so as it swings it too distends the
nipples, but, only if she moves.  She held very still for the
first ten minutes or so."

I visibly shivered.  "What happened then, Master?"

"Why I turned on the butterfly over her clit which only
minutes before she volunteered to lock in place under her
chastity belt.  She thought it a nice diversion for what she
thought would be a light flogging. Only after she locked it
in place and I sufficiently bound her so I controlled did I
announce my intention."

"Oh, Master, she looks to be suffering so, but look at the
feint of a smile which plays across her lips," I exclaim.

"I told you dear, sweet agony.  If it comes to the point she
can stand it no longer she need only break the strings, there
are only two you see, but, if she breaks the strings to escape
I won't turn the butterfly off until morning.  I denied her
the expectation of coming for the duration of your
discipline, as an extension of her discipline for starting
you off so irresponsibly.  So, tonight is all she writes of
orgasmic pleasures for quite sometime to come.  The choice is
hers'.  She may have as many orgasms in the time it takes me
to bind you into your pretty things as she can muster.  The
butterfly is not enough stimulation for her to come.
However, it does keep her quite flush with expectation.  When
you are bound into your pretty things I'll go turn off the
butterfly ending the clitoral stimulation and she can break
the strings to escape.  If it turns out to be too much she
can break the strings before I return, but I'll not turn off
the butterfly before the battery fails.  That will leave a
long period of enhanced frustration just before a very long
dry spell."

He continues, "The way I figure, I have no reason to deny her
these last pleasures before the end.  She has no reason for
me to hurry back to end them.  No real harm comes until we
reach her proven limits of nipple distension and I
constructed the bondage so that won't be exceeded.  Are you
in a hurry for me to reign in your waist the next three
inches?"

"No, Master, it seems I can barely breathe now!" I reply.
He allows me to watch her agony/ecstasy for some time.  She
continues to twitch, jerk, and jockey for a more comfortable
position, but every time she shudders or twitches the block
falls and her nipples distend.

Breaking the silence and distracting me from my watch, he
says, "Well, Dear One, your Mistress approaches the limits of
her endurance.  Exhaustion will soon become the deciding
factor in the balance of torment she experiences.  In order
for her to have a chance of success I must release her soon.
So, we must finish with you."

I reply "As you wish, of course," and turn my attention back
to my watch, fascinated; transfixed.  He works at my sides
this time, taking in laces on the right, the left, the right,
and the left again.  I breathe now with utmost difficulty,
taking in breaths in short gasps.  Only over a matter of
several minutes does this ease somewhat, but even then is
troubling.

He holds a red ball up to my mouth and I open it with
trepidation to speak, "Master, please forgive my outburst.
May I speak?"

"This is so unusual that I expect it is important, you may,"
he replies.

Still staring at mistress, transfixed, I beg using my most
pleading voice,  "Master, I must know."

"What must you know, Dear Heart?" he queries.

"Master, I must know what it is to stand in her place.
Please, I beg of you, let me be her!"

"Dear Heart, I worried you'd not ask." came his quiet, even
reply.  "Now?"

"Please, Master, please!  Especially if it pleases you that
I should!"

He queried further "Would you have me treat you as I treat
her?"

"Within your most considered estimations of my endurance and
limits, and Master?"

"Yes, Dear Heart?" he asks.

"If it is not too much trouble, could she be made to stand
here, gagged and blindfolded, while you put me to the test?
I want that she should hear my whimpers of pleasure."

He inquires, "A little revenge, my Sweet?"

"Retribution, Master, though I realize it is a fine line.
The results might please you as much as the idea pleases me,
and it will light my way through the test."

"I see," he replies, and after a momentary pause, "I see merit
in the idea, and I like the subtlety.  It will be so."

"Oh, thank you, Master, for allowing me to know."  He holds
up the ball and I open my mouth to accept it.  He turns my
head straight and level and applies a stiff collar, lacing it
up the back.  The collar has extensions at the back of my
head and under my chin.  As the laces draw tighter my head
tips back slightly, my lower jaw pushes up trapping the ball
between my teeth, and it squeezes my neck and pulls my head
up off my shoulders making me light headed.  I must now look
down my nose to see Mistress suffering across the room.  I
step back slightly, as the bondage allows, easing my view.
Master works closing the flaps over the lacings and applies
small padlocks to the flaps.  I realize this may be as much
in my defense as it is a denial of release.  He adjusts the
shoulder straps pulling my shoulders back as severely as I've
ever known.

He releases the block and tackle and lowers my arms.
Disconnecting the device he attaches the center of the
spreader bar to a fastener at my waist.  Using thin braided
tapes he binds my fingers and thumbs together on each hand
immobilizing them.  He uses one of the tapes to bind my
wrists, hands palm to palm, behind me.  He then slips my
hands inside this leather restraint closing it over my hands,
around my wrists, and begins lacing it up toward my elbows.
As the laces are extracted my elbows are drawn closer and
closer together until they're joined.  Master ties off the
laces and closes the flap over them.  Using small locks he
denies release and fixes the end of my bound hands to my
waist in back.  "Done," he pronounces.

Now, I turn toward the mirror to see and this is the picture
of me.  My hair, washed, brushed and combed, is gathered and
pinned in a large knot at the back of my head.  This great
iridescent silver and black leather collar looks as the mouth
of a grand sea beast attempting to swallow me whole.  All
that is left of me is the area above a line from the knot of
hair running round both sides of my head just under my ear
and along the jaw line ending at the front just below my
lower lip.  Lodged in my own mouth is the large red ball and
it appears I myself am attempting to swallow whole something
entirely too large.

As if out of gill flaps, my arms thrust out revealing my
shoulders, now sprung back to reveal my breasts, globular
prominences, thrust forward and jutting out.  The smooth
iridescence descends from under arms to my knees and has me
gripped tightly in a stranglehold from which there can be no
escape, a hold so close and stiff it appears I fit to the
beasts shape, taking on its sleek, hydrodynamic form.  Below,
it appears I thrust free of the body splitting the monster.
My feet acquire the beast's fishy form and extend as though I
swim through the air.  All this as if I'd been swallowed
whole then burst out.  My breath coming in short gasps due to
the constriction makes it seem I just exploded through the
surface to catch it.  The arches in my back and shoulders
create a round and aquatic form at which I stare
distractedly.

"Dear Heart," Master whispers, "it takes some doing to walk
from here to where you are bound.  I go to help Mistress.
You start your shuffle and, yes, you are beautiful."

"Mankvf" I reply.  It is awkward to say the least to take but
one-inch steps.  It works better if I don't overstep and what
figures to be three quarter-inch steps has me moving most
quickly. As I shuffle I watch Master remove a chain from his
pocket with a ring in the middle and two monstrous nipple
clips at the ends and clip them on Mistress' nipples close to
the bases, then tug at a string distending her nipples more.
She lets out a mournful shrill animal cry in protestation.
He works his index fingers into the string winding it around
them.  He lays his thumbs over where the string runs finger
to finger and snaps, breaking it.  Holding his fingers
together he slowly releases the tension in one until
mistress' nipples are relieved.  He remove his thumbs and the
weight crashes to the floor with a dull thud.

Mistress cries around her gag, "Nhhhooooooooohhhh!"  It is
pitiful.  Her nipples, trapped by both sets of clips, are
blue, large, and as Master brushes past them I see very
tender.  Master helps her off the short triangular pedestal
she stood on for so long her stilettos left indentations in
the wood.  Master picks up the end of the string hanging from
above and winds it around his open palm retrieving it.  When
he collects it all he slips it off his hand cuts it twice
with a pocketknife and throws it in a refuse bin.  Turning to
Mistress, he removes the clips at the ends of her nipples,
leaving the ones at the bases, and lets blood in.  She
shudders, mewls through the gag, and turns away in pain.
When she stands straight he pulls the harness over her head
and locks a finger in the binding ring at her waist.  He
slowly guides her a safe distance away, leaving her to come
to me.

Upon arriving he lays the harness over me.  He pulls my
discipline hood out of a rear pocket and drags it over the
top of my head stopping me.  Drawing the laces down firmly he
proceeds to buckle the straps and after adjusting the harness
again, locks it in place.  He goes a moment but returns with
what I presume is the weight, which he hangs off the front of
the harness.  Cantilevered as it is, it seems very heavy and
leaves me second thoughts for what I volunteer to do.  He
hooks a finger in the binding ring at my waist and guides me
to my position on the pedestal, turning me to proper
orientation.  He then leaves me.

I presume he goes to bind mistress into my old position.
Returning, he wets my left nipple, then my right and blows
air to make them stand-up.  They comply and with the vibrator
still locked in place and operating, re-ignite my flame of
love.  Master clamps the ends with what I'm certain are the
huge clips he used previously on Mistress.  They hurt and I
howl in pain.  My pangs of titillation nearly allow release
then and there.  Fortunately they only whet the fires of my
passions.  He releases the lock tying my hands to my waist at
the back.  Then the binding begins in earnest.  I feel him
working, rather than hear him for the white noise in my ears.
He starts at the bottom and works up, out, and around from
there.  It seems interminably long before he even comes close
to my exposed breasts, but when the time comes my trepidation
builds and I think it too soon.  Quickly enough he threads
the strings through the harness and stops.  The white noise
goes and I hear my Master's voice.

"The cusp of a seminal moment, Dear One.  No one before
Mistress has dared this bondage, though many were asked.  As
you are told, Mistress prefers never to experience this again
and does only when she is particularly careless or obstinate.
I say this once and I know you can't respond so don't try.
The object of this exercise is not to move.  Saying this I'll
now finish the bondage placing your nipples in tension, then
release the weight.  Prepare yourself."  At this time he
laces the string from the outside of the harness through the
rings on the ends of my nipple clips. Then out to the bar
underneath.  Crossing the strings right to left, left to
right, he threads them through again evening the outward and
inward tensions causing the nipples to extend straight out,
away from my chest.  This pulls the harness into my chest and
seats it firmly.  Crossing them over again he threads them
back through the bar at the top and takes up all the
available slack line.  I feel things tightening down, the
string tension increasing, my movement taken away until all
is tense: the string, my body, and my nerves.  Apparently
satisfied, Master ties the strings together and releases
them, relaxing them just slightly.  He then stops.  I think
to step back and admire his work; my greatly stiffened body
structure.

After what seem several minutes he grunts in approval.  "I'm
going to turn on Mistress' audio so she can hear you 
‘enjoying’ yourself.  That means I'm going to turn yours off.
You may be pleased to know the butterfly over her clit still
excites her though she'll not know enough stimulation after
the recent 'rough handling' to get off.  For both of us you
are allowed, neigh expected, to be vocal about your
tribulations under this duress.  Loud as you want is quite
all right with me.  Enjoy if you can, Dear Heart."  Then the
white noise.

After several moments the weight at the front is first
relieved then attached again and pulls my nipples hard.  I
cry out in immediate distress, "Auuuughhhhhhh!"  It hurts, I
come, barely able to stand.  My weight shifts forward ever so
slightly and the slack is taken up immediately while the
string pulls my nipples microscopically further away from my
tits.  "Ooooohhhhhhhh!" I exclaim.  I find no need for
prompting to be vocal.

I now know the heights of helplessness, frustration, and
hopeless abandon.  The stimulation causes me to twitch, which
in turn pulls at the string, pulling at my nipples,
stimulating my sex, which causes me to twitch... you see the
circuit.  I come intermittently at first, but hard, and they
roll over me like steamrollers.  Soon they come closer
together and then it turns into a continuous stream orgasm.
One piles on the other, which piles on the next.  All the
time the string tension gets tighter, my freedom of movement
is geometrically restricted, while my movements create ever-
greater stimulation, which seems to build exponentially.
After some time my orgasms roll into each other so closely it
seems one continuous come.

At this point my struggle to remain motionless is first in
mind.  "Oh, oh, oh, that hurts, Stand still!" becomes a
mantra.  Producing any further tension now just plain hurts.
I stop momentarily and enjoy the orgasm only to lose my "Stay
still!" train of thought.  I relax, of course and rock just a
little until the added tension brings home to me the mantra
again.  I'm helpless to stop the circuit of pain, and totally
frustrated at losing concentration to stand still.  Soon it
becomes plain that I'll not control the pain, the orgasm, or
myself and even give up hope of mitigation.  Helpless,
frustrated, and hopeless, just as a saucy slave wench ought
to be.

At this point, this great long vibrator works its way round
the front of my cervix and jams itself comfortably onto my
G-spot and the whole world, what little there is of it now,
turns dreamy.  Immediately a sense of supreme satisfaction
and total distraction overcome me and I melt.  "Oh, what a
feeling!" is the only thing in my mind until my knees give
out, just a little, and the tension increases beyond my
threshold of pain tolerance.  Not thinking I stand back up.
"Aiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeya!" I push past the ball in my mouth.
Momentarily the pain chases away the warm fuzzy feeling.
Then it hits - the orgasm of a lifetime.  It rocks my world,
curls my toes, and leaves me mindless.  My vagina squeezes up
and down on the vibrator so hard my natural lubrication
launches off its end past my chastity belt, making me totally
wet and sticky under there.  I don't care!  I relax frozen in
place while it washes over me in endless waves.

I feel a tug at my nipples again and am certain I did not
move!  "Naaaaaaaaaaooooooooohhhhhhhh!" I screamed at no one
in particular.  Then nipple clips are applied at the bases,
near the areola, and the string is snapped, the tension
released.  Someone, undoubtedly Master, holds me upright from
the front with his arms under mine in a bear grasp.  I'm
thankful for the frame protecting my now unbelievably
sensitive nips.  I melt yet again and rely on Master to
support me (a job he does all too easily, for which I'm
thankful).  When I can put my feet back under me I stand and
master releases me.

Master collects up the string, I feel it drawing through all
the anchor points.  Then a short pause and he lifts the frame
off me.  Then the noise abates and his voice, his wonderful
voice, "Seems you enjoy this, Dear Heart.  Let me help you
off the pedestal."  He hooks a finger in the binding ring at
my waist again and guides me off.  He un-straps my discipline
hood and loosens the laces, then lifts the hood over my head.
The light is bright and my blinking eyes adjust only after a
minute or so.  The last of my Earth-shattering orgasm dies
away.  "Uhm! Uhm!" I clamor at the loss, dejected.  Master,
walks behind and re-attaches my hands to the binding ring in
the back with the padlock he used earlier.  The monster
vibrator continues to buzz merrily away as I now fully note
the thickening viscosity of my excretions on my thighs.

Master comes to the front, hooks his finger into the binding
ring at the front, and guides me back to the post again.
There Mistress is bound via a chain around the post locked on
to it by the padlock master also hooked through the ring in
the chain between her nipple clips.  Master unlocks the
padlock and does the same for me.  The heavy weight chain
pulls hard at the clips and our nipples, forcing us both to
turn and face the post side by side.  Master walks out in
front of us and addresses us.  "The two of you have one more
painful humiliation to live through.  I must prepare."  He
wrestles pillowcases over our heads and pulls the nipple
clamps from the front of my nipples.

Our heads uncovered, we hear what happens but dare not move
for fear of yanking at our pained nips.  He comes in the
door, he goes out the door.  The open door chills us and we
shiver.  Finally, prepared, he comes back to us.  He releases
me first and using the bonding ring again guides me outside,
up a short ramp and stops me.  "I will guide your feet."  He
grabs behind my right heel saying "Lift.  Forward slowly.
Down slowly.  Got you.  Good.  Now the left.  Up.  Good.
Forward.  Down.  Great."  Then he closes a cover over my toes
and I'm immobilized.  Foot Stocks!  It's cold.  I shiver in
the night air.

Soon he guides Mistress out and guides her the same way he
guided me.  I hear the cover slam shut and the application of 
padlocks.  "Click, click."

"Now," he says, "to let each of your tortured twins free.
First right."

"Aieeeeeeee!" in unison.

"Then left."

"Aaaaauugh!" in unison.

"Now, for the hoods.  First left," Mistress.  "Then right,"
me.  We stand before a very large oscillating fan aimed up at
us from about waist level.  Into the front grill are tied
hair ribbons.  The fan points directly at our breasts and
tortured nipples.  We panic, Mistress and I, and attempt to
move, but, foot stocks anchor us and our restraints bind us
so there is nowhere to go.  "Now ladies, it is a clear night
and quite chilly.  You can imagine that that fan will make
you both freeze like Popsicles!  However, I insist you must
endure at least two hours of further torment in this manner.
I make one concession.  You may decide when to start."  At
this Master moves around behind us and clips something
between the rear binding ring of my costume and the rear
binding ring of her's.  "Either of you may start the fan by
simply swinging your hips away from your partner.  It might
be interesting to know who will start the fan.  Alas, it
seems I'm ill fated to see such sport for I'll be in the
sleeping bag, lieing in the hammock over there, sleeping.
The longer you wait to start, the more likely you are to
catch your death of exposure.  Of course it is hard on those
ill-used nipples to chill them down, make them sensitive, and
stimulate them with the brushing of ribbons, especially so
soon after your previous abuse!  Oh, by the way, it's just
three hours till dawn when you both are visible from the
road.  Delicious! HA!"

He walks away muttering, "Got to hand it to those Internet
stories writers," and Mistress and I watch with following
eyes as he unrolls the bag and climbs in, then lays back in
the hammock, head on the pillow.  "Which way do the two of
you think that oscillating fan will turn on start-up?  Who
catches the air first?  Too bad, I'll not see. Ha, ha, ha,
har, har har!  Night ladies!"

END





Well, what do you think?  Would you like to read more of
Danielle and her torments?  Do you think the Cast Iron Bitch
should get her comuppance?  Write to me and let me know if I
should continue the story-line at caitmccarren@yahoo.com

************************************************************
*                                                          *
*  Implied                                                 *
*  Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway,              *
*  And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd, --            *
*  Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,              *
*  And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.                    *
*                                                          *
*        Milton's Paradise Lost, book iv, Line 307.        *
*                                                          *
*  Something to say from the submissive's point of view?   *
*  Hard to find the "right" words?  Want it in a story?    *
*  Tell me about it by mail at caitmccarren@yahoo.com.     *
*                                                          *
************************************************************

