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Housebound Ch. 01

By: Doctor_Tease



Chapter 01: Katie

Katie dreamt about a soft, mossy bank next to a rippling stream; sunlight shone through green branches overhead and played over her shoulders, her bare legs and her toes. She couldn't have said where the creek was in her memory, or even what she was wearing; it was more an impression of a scene than a true location, shifting, the way dreams do. The stream was her body now, rippling, thrumming with pleasure. She was on the edge of the waterfall. She was so close, she was going to come, she was--

A sharp smack landed on her pussy. She woke, squirming and wet and sore, gasping in confusion.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Why wasn't she in bed? She struggled and kicked, found something restraining her legs, tried to twist over and got another smack for her reward. At last the world began to clear up around her.

She felt her face land on the rubberized floor of some kind of vehicle--a van? It was dark outside, cold with the chill of a fall night, but she was dressed only in the gray string bikinis, white socks and thin t-shirt she'd worn to bed. A hand grabbed her arm and she tried to pull away, only to realize that her wrists were bound tightly almost up to the elbow behind her back. Her mouth tasted of wet cloth.

"Easy," chuckled a male voice, "you'll strain something," and she was being lifted up like a toy.

Katie didn't go easy, or tried not to, but whoever was handling her really knew how to hold a girl in place! Within moments she found herself hoisted and her wrists shackled to some kind of steel pillar in the middle of the large van. Her ankles were pulled back and locked together too, but with the way her arms were kept straight and bent upwards, this forced her to dangle painfully forward and stand on her tiptoes. It was awkward. She figured this kidnapper-rapist wanted it that way.

He had to be a kidnapper, she'd decided, because she wasn't the only one in the van. There were two other girls bound the same way to the pillar, and now they were all facing away from each other, all in similar states of undress. And he had to be a rapist because there was a vibrating egg buzzing deep in her pussy. Katie felt heat grow in her cheeks as she realized what exactly she'd been feeling in her dream.

Heart racing, she tried to put the pieces together. She hadn't been drugged--she'd fallen asleep on her bed with a textbook, as usual. Did that mean he had her roommate too? She tried to remember the glimpses of the girls she'd seen before being turned around, but no, neither of them looked like Jade. Had he killed her? The thought sent a stab of ice through her.

The van door slammed and left them all in the dark. Kate tried to ask in a whisper if the other girls knew what was happening, but no, dammit, the cloth gag in her mouth wouldn't allow for that. Anyway, after a moment she could hear a tiny muffled groan, and felt the other girls shift awkwardly against their bonds.

Katie made the educated guess that she wasn't the only one with something stuffed inside her.

The front door of the van slammed as well, the engine grumbled to life, and Katie felt a new strain on her arms for a moment as they accelerated and drove away. She tried to keep track of the turns, picturing the road away from her dorm in her mind, but soon realized that she'd lost count--and, for that matter, didn't know which way they'd been facing when they started out.

She spent what felt like hours testing the bonds on her wrists, but while they were soft enough not to make her hands fall asleep, they were more than tight enough to keep her from working her way out. She'd been positioned expertly to keep her as uncomfortable as possible, even as the vibrator pulsed in her cunt. That had been set carefully too, she realized: it was fast enough to keep her drippingly wet (her panties had quickly soaked through), but not intense enough to actually build to an orgasm.

By the time they stopped again, she was trying not to admit to herself that she was more frustrated about that than anything.

The van shut off and she could hear him get out, but the back doors didn't open. Katie held her breath for a few minutes, eventually deciding that he must have left them--to get gas or use the bathroom or get something to eat, who knew? She thought it would be worth taking her chances by making some noise. Perhaps someone would hear her and rescue them!

It took her about a minute to give up on that as well. Her screams for help were not only muffled and unintelligible, they seemed to vanish into the walls of the van, which he must have had the foresight to soundproof. And the way she was restrained, though she could sway slightly back and forth, she couldn't make the van rock or stomp her feet.

Another chilling though: this guy had a system.

So she sagged in her bonds and waited, just as, she realized, the other girls were doing. Minutes ticked by, and the egg teased her. Katie slipped into a sort of fog of exhaustion and arousal. She could almost find herself back at the stream...

Then the door burst open again. She blinked in shock at the blaze of an orange streetlight, coming from behind and keeping her captor's face in shadow, as he tossed in another bound and barely-dressed girl. This one was petite and slender, around Katie's age--shorter, but with long legs and her straight black hair in an elaborate knot around a pair of sticks. She was blindfolded, but Katie guessed from the bones of her face and the rosebud lips around her gag that she was Asian, maybe Korean-American.

The girl seemed to have come from a club of some kind, wearing strappy heels and a tiny blue cheongsam-style dress that, Katie couldn't help thinking, she would have killed for. It looked like it would barely come down to her thighs under normal circumstances, and as the man quickly bound her to the fourth hook on the pillar--this time with her legs spread wide apart--it rode up well above her tiny black thong. He spent a little longer securing her than he had with Katie, and as the doors slammed and the van started back up, she couldn't help but wonder why. The new girl hadn't been able to struggle any more than she had.

Then she heard an electrical-sounding snap, and the new girl let out a muffled squeal. Katie could have sworn she saw a small, bright blue arc at the juncture of her legs. The girl subsided into whimpers. A few minutes passed as they drove. The snap and the pained yelp again.

Katie found herself grateful for small blessings.

The next segment of the drive lasted even longer, and Katie was soon well into her fugue state, letting the stream run through her body, riding the teasing little buzz of the egg for all it was worth. Only the occasional snap-squeal! and the soft noise of the road did anything to distract her, until finally the van stopped again.

She expected the doors to stay shut as before--in the brief moment of light, she'd caught a glimpse of shackles on the wall, so clearly this van wasn't full to capacity yet--but instead they were opened almost immediately, and Katie squinted into a harsh fluorescent light. This time she could see the face of the man who'd taken her.

"Welcome home," he chuckled, and reached forward to lift her out.

Housebound Ch. 02



Ch. 02: Jen and Amber

Fucking club.

Jen had been really enjoying herself, even on only one dose of molly, downing water and dancing with everybody and getting ushered into the VIP section to do it some more. Then the lights had come down around two in the morning, and just when she'd been about to pout, they'd brought out blindfolds for the girls.

It had been hot. It had been SO hot. Just rolling and dancing and touching and the thump of the bass in her body, and then someone was taking her arm and twisting it behind her back and dragging her off before she had any idea what was happening. She'd tried to say that this wasn't fun anymore, that she wanted to stop, but then he'd stuffed a gag in her mouth and she found herself hoisted into some kind of vehicle and tied in an incredibly uncomfortable position.

And then she'd had a slippery little vibrator pushed into her pussy, and felt a painful electric shock snap right against her clit.

It was at this point, squealing in surprise and pain, that Jen had decided the whole affair wasn't on the up and up.

Not that she could have done much about it, rattling off to God knows where in this sicko's van and being held taut and teased and shocked and kept constantly aroused; she could barely even think. Sometimes the electric snap would drive her right up to the edge of a painful orgasm; other times, when the vibe sped up, it would jerk her back away from the verge. It was maddening, and it was some time before she became aware of muffled whimpers and realized she wasn't the only one in the van.

They'd stopped at last, and she'd heard her captor's voice--was there really only one of him? She and the other girls were unhooked and carried out like rag dolls; she'd tried to struggle as soon as he tossed her over his shoulder, and got a painful smack on her pussy and a doubly intense shock in return.

When the blindfold came off at last, Jen found herself on her side, lying on a pile of pillows and facing one of the other girls. This one had her hair in dark red curls, with a pink flush high in her pale cheeks, under a spray of freckles. Her eyes were a flashing hazel, and she looked as angry as Jen was confused.

She was also half-undressed, white blouse unbuttoned and plaid skirt pushed up to reveal a pair of white cotton panties beneath. The faint red impressions on her sides seemed to indicate that she had been wearing a bra before having it cut off or removed (her breasts were as small and firm, Jen noticed, as her own; maybe an A or a small B cup). She was shoeless, but white elastic stockings rose up to her thighs. She was gagged too, and though her voice was muffled, Jen could guess what kinds of obscenities she was trying to yell through it as their captor clipped a thick metal collar tight around her neck.

He finished, straightened, and winked at Jen. She stared in disbelief. This guy was maybe three years older than she was, with brown hair and glasses and a winning smile. She'd expected a monster, some leering brute with paws for hands; instead she was staring at an Emile Hirsch lookalike.

"Jen, meet Amber," he said, walking around the pile to gently lift her head and snap another collar around her own neck. "Amber, Jen. I'm going to leave you two to get acquainted while your new friends and I conduct a little business, okay?" He tugged something back behind her head, and Jen groaned in relief and worked her jaw as the gag was pulled away. "Don't hurt yourselves trying to escape. The windows don't open and the door locks from the outside."

He pulled off Amber's gag, and she immediately turned to sink her teeth into his leg; Jen was startled at how fast she moved, but even more startled as he seemed to turn her movement into something else entirely. One moment she was twisting on her side, the next she was on her stomach, yelping as he delivered four loud smacks to her ass. "I told you not to hurt yourself," he chided. "Back soon." He stood, tossing Amber back onto the pillows, and the door clicked shut.

Jen scrambled to her feet and went for the door, her legs still weak from their hours of strain in the van; though her wrists were still laced behind her, she could turn around and try the handle. Unfortunately he'd been telling the truth, and it didn't budge.

It looked like the day was dawning outside, though she couldn't see much more than trees and a sloping hill. They had to be out of the city, then--but where? They could be hours into the rural areas in any direction. Jen stumbled back to the pillows and collapsed, just in time to receive yet another shock to her aching clit.

She didn't even realize she'd was groaning with pain and frustration until Amber mumbled, "I bet you want that thing off."

Jen's eyes flew open. "Oh, FUCK yes," she said. "Do you think you can reach it if you turn around? I'd do anything--"

"Anything?" said Amber, not moving, her eyes still glittering and intent.

Jen opened her mouth, then shut it.

"You don't understand," said Amber, her voice trembling a little. "He picked me up first. I was in that fucking van all night, Jen, and this little goddamn vibe has kept me wet and I don't want to let myself respond to him but JESUS, I need to come so bad I can't think. So... okay?"

"Wh-what do you want me to do?" asked Jen, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Amber used her shoulders to push herself up onto her knees, walking on them over to the side of the pillow-pile where Jen lay. "It's very, very simple," she breathed.

"Amber," said Jen with mounting dismay, "look, I... I'm not a lesbian or anything, so..."

"You think I am?" growled Amber. She twisted and then she was straddling the other girl, pinning her on her back. Jen could smell Amber's pussy, see the battery pack taped to her leg and its slender wire snaking up under the edge of her soaked panties. "I don't care what you are, Jen, I just need your tongue. NOW."

Jen found her next protest quite effectively stifled.

Amber didn't seem to care whether or not her panties were still in the way; the fabric was thin and wet enough that Jen could feel the outline of her lips right through the fabric. Resigned, and a little afraid of suffocation, she nuzzled upward with her nose and pressed her tongue against where she thought Amber's clit would be.

Amber's reaction was immediate: she rolled her hips hard, pressing down hard against Jen's mouth and letting out a long, stuttering groan of relief. Jen wrinkled her nose a bit, but she had to admit that the taste wasn't nearly as intense as having a cock in her mouth. Even if Amber didn't seem to know how to do this gently.

Jen had thought Amber's cheeks were flushed before, but now they were nearly as red as her hair: her mouth was hanging open and her eyes clenched shut as she ground the wet, rough cotton harder and harder against Jen's tongue. Jen actually stopped needing to do much at all, just pushing out her tongue and lips and letting the panting girl bounce herself against them. "Oh God," Amber managed, "oh fuck!" Then she was frozen for a long few seconds, mouth wide open and silent, face twisted and legs trembling as she came.

"Fuck," she repeated, "fuck, Jen, sorry, fffuck, please pull it out, please, please!"

Jen took the cord of the vibrator gingerly between her teeth and tugged, eventually working it out of Amber's sopping pussy. There was a yelp from the other girl as it slid out and made contact with her clit for a moment, then Jen had it out of her panties and managed to click the power button off with her tongue.

Amber rolled off, still gasping, unable to hold herself up anymore. Jen rolled over on her side as well, blushing and humiliated--as if being taken and tormented like this wasn't bad enough, now one of her fellow victims had practically raped her! She tried to wipe her face on one of the pillows, and then found herself biting down to muffle a sob of pain as the device clipped onto her delivered yet another crackling shock.

"Oh shit, Jen, I'm sorry, I know I promised," said Amber, getting up on her knees and moving awkwardly toward her. "Here, roll onto your back--" Jen gratefully complied, and after a few awkward moments (as Amber worked with her hands behind her back), she felt her own egg slide out and something detach with a quiet sucking "pop" from her labia.

Jen just lay on her back for a few minutes, savoring the relief from the constant stimulation and pain, trying not to feel crestfallen that Amber hadn't offered to take care of her frustration as well. That's just what this bastard wants, she thought. Get the girls worked up and wet, lock them in together and watch them turn into horny lesbians. Get real! She felt proud of herself, for a moment, for having resisted.

Then she felt Amber's teeth taking the side of her thong and gently tugging downward, and said nothing, and realized that maybe he was right after all.

Amber was much gentler as a giver than she had been as a taker: she pushed a couple of the pillows up into a mound and wordlessly encouraged Jen to move herself up onto them, then knelt down and took an experimental taste. Jen was obscurely glad she'd just gotten a full wax down there. She hadn't been teased as long, and her clit was still aching from all the shocks; she expected, a little vengefully, that Amber would have to work for a while to get her off.

Then she looked down at the auburn ringlets tumbling over her thighs, at the freckles and pink cheeks of the girl who was nervously lapping away at her sopping pussy, and came almost immediately.

She only realized she'd been crying out and wrapping her legs tight around Amber's head when she came back down. Gingerly, more embarrassed than ever, the two girls separated and collapsed onto the pillows. Jen wondered if she should stand up, prepare herself for when their captor inevitably came back, but what was there to do? The pillows were the only furniture in the room, and she wasn't about to try breaking a window with her head.

"Um, Jen--"

"I'm not doing that again," she found herself snapping at the other girl, coldly.

"I'm sorry." Amber glanced over at her, hesitant and regretful. "I wouldn't have made you if I hadn't been--look, I swear. And I made it up to you, right?"

Jen said nothing. Not a lesbian, my ass.

After an awkward pause, Amber tried again. "So where did he get you?"

"The VIP room at Rust," sighed Jen. "I thought it was just a stupid game at first. You look like he picked you up at a Catholic school."

Amber's cheeks flared again. Jen wondered if she ever stopped blushing. "No! I'm twenty-two. The outfit is--I'm a dancer. I was getting fitted for my costume for this music video, and he just grabbed me out of the changing trailer."

"You were filming? Where?"

"This warehouse studio down by 92nd and Alder."

"That's all the way across town from me," said Jen, frowning. "So this wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment thing--he had a route planned out."

"Really?" said Amber dryly. "I guessed as much from the custom-built creep van."

Jen blushed herself a little, and scowled. Silence returned.

"So, an Asian girl in an Asian dress and a redhead in a schoolgirl outfit," said Amber after a while. "I didn't see the others--think they're fetish stereotypes too?"

Jen had to laugh a little at that. She turned over and found Amber looking at her, smiling a little, still apologetic. She found herself imagining how many guys had been mollified all too easily after a tantrum by that face.

"I'm hapa, actually," she said. "My dad's from Korea."

"My family's Jewish," sighed Amber, "so of course my parents gave me a name straight out of Bodices of the Moorlands, on top of the freckles and hair."

Jen laughed again, but the moment passed quickly. As the sun rose higher outside the windows, the girls drifted into an aching, exhausted sleep. 




Housebound Ch. 03



Note: This takes place just before and then during the events of Housebound, Ch. 02.

Katie had jerked and kicked like anything as her cheerful-looking captor had removed her from the back of the van (Why me first? she'd wondered, frantically), but he'd handled her with ease, as if anticipating every move she would make. She'd barely gotten a glimpse of the garage where they'd parked before he carried her, slung over his shoulder, into a hallway and through a waiting metal door.

He swung it shut behind them, with an ominously heavy click, and Katie couldn't help noticing that there was no knob on this side.

The room was dark and windowless within; the only light was a single bright beam, focused downward to illuminate a strange little chair. It consisted of a long, narrow backrest and two knee pads. Kevlar straps dangled from all three pieces, and it seemed to all be supported by a single metal beam attached to the back wall.

Katie knew instinctively that she did not want to be put in that chair--and that it was where she was headed. She redoubled her efforts to get away from him, but before she knew it he had her doubled almost backwards in his arms, one hand gripping her hair and the other squeezing the soaking crotch of her panties.

She'd been locked up in the back of the van all night, and the vibrator he'd put inside her hadn't stopped working its magic yet. His hand was the first pressure she'd had on her pussy at all, and Christ, it felt good.

Katie didn't realize she'd moaned, an aching, lustful sound, until he'd gotten her arms behind the backrest and locked her wrist bindings into some kind of cuff there. Fuck! He swiftly pulled the straps tight around the backs of her knees, and there she was: strapped into this thing despite all her efforts, kneeling a couple feet off the ground.

He looked her over, as she fumed and jerked at the bonds, then seemed satisfied. He reached behind her head and untied the gag; Katie groaned again and worked her jaw.

"Hi, Katie," he said. It chilled her: she'd sort of hoped this was just a random, sloppy job, a grab bag of girls, the kind of thing that would get him caught. But if he knew her name, that was doubtful.

"Fuck you," she spat.

"You know, I've been doing this for years," he said thoughtfully, "and there are only two things a girl ever says when I ungag her: 'fuck you' and 'what do you want?'"

"I know exactly what you want," she said, trembling. She was still wearing her skimpy gray cami top, panties and socks: she had no doubt that was deliberate. She'd taken his clothing for a burglar's grubby black sweater and jeans at first, but now she could see that it was actually nice stuff, Gucci and Hudson. Her status was supposed to be beneath his in every way.

"You almost certainly don't," he said. "Well, okay, you probably have at least this next part figured out." He took the hem of her cami in both hands and tugged upwards until it was over her head, not entirely off, but wadded into a band of fabric over her shoulders and behind her neck and upper back.

"Oh, yeah, this is really unexpected," snapped Katie. She hadn't wanted to play her part, to turn her head away in shame, but there was a hot flush in her cheeks anyway as he ran his hand possessively across her collarbones and down to her small, round breasts. The way her arms were bound behind the chair forced her back to arch, chest forward; it was a position that accentuated even her minor assets.

He smiled and cupped one. "I'm going to leave you alone in a minute, Katie," he said. "I promise. But first I wanted to give you something to think about." His thumb circled her nipple, teasing it into stiffness despite her best efforts to ignore the sensation. Then he withdrew his hand, reached into his back pocket and came out with a small pair of blunt-tipped scissors.

"All I'm going to think about is what's going to happen to you when you fuck up," she said bravely. Snip, went the scissors on one side of her panties; his hand traced a tingling path under her tummy as it moved to the other side. "Do you know what they do to guys like you in prison?"

"Yes, I do," he said. "That's why I never fuck up." Snip.

Her humiliatingly sopping panties dropped into his hand, though not before he rubbed one knuckle against her clit through them, making her catch her breath. She barely contained another groan, then yet another, as he finally pulled the little egg vibrator out of her slippery cunt and unstrapped its battery pack from her leg.

He was grinning with appreciation at the sight of her exposed pussy and its tiny landing strip of fuzz, which she'd carefully trimmed just a day ago. "In fact, I take very specific care of my girls, Katie. That's why you're in here--to get personally measured. I know you're into clothes; I thought you'd like the idea of having everything tailored to fit you."

Katie stared in disbelief, but he didn't bring out a measuring tape; instead, he walked behind her and flicked on a computer monitor. She could barely make out the screen when she craned her head. It was black with white text--she hadn't thought they even made computers like that anymore.

init, he was typing, -subject 229 -thorough -record. Clack went the enter key, and there was a hum, then a quiet, high-pitched whine of machinery. She looked around frantically, wondering what it could mean--which was when he walked back over, grabbed her face roughly in one hand, squeezed her cheeks to make her lips pout, and kissed her hard.

Katie objected, with a muffled squeal of protest. He pulled back and simultaneously gave her a sharp spank on her unprotected, sensitive pussy; Katie gasped in pain, and she found the scrap of fabric that had been her panties stuffed into her mouth.

Her objection this time was barely more articulate, and louder. In a second he'd tied the dangling straps tight behind her head. This new gag wasn't as big or awkward as the previous one--it wasn't really supposed to keep her quiet--but now she was forced to taste her own arousal, cold and wet and faintly sour against her tongue.

She yanked and squirmed desperately in her bonds, but he responded by taking the previously unfastened straps on the backrest and pulling them tight just above and below her breasts. Now she could barely draw a deep breath, let alone move her body. He stepped back.

"Oh, I promised you something to think about, didn't I?" he said as he walked to the door; it clicked open at his touch. "I walked into your dorm, then your room, and took you out bound and gagged before you even woke up. Do you think I could have done that without help? Somebody sold you to me, Katie. Who do you think it was?"

Then the door clicked shut once more, and she was alone with the machine.

Katie renewed her struggle, flushed and panting through the wet gag, her small athletic frame straining hard against the straps. For all her frantic attempts, though, she could barely shift her body to one side--as she discovered, to her dismay, when the whining sound turned out to be a slender silver dildo mounted on an articulated metal arm.

The straps had her positioned perfectly above it, of course, and in a moment it was nudging at her lips. Even if she hadn't been still dripping wet from the endless teasing of the egg, the thing seemed to have been lubricated, and slid inside her without a hitch.

She was almost disappointed at how skinny it was.

Glancing backwards, she could see characters streaming down the monitor, recording some kind of data she couldn't comprehend--though she could guess at its source. The little shaft pumped up and down a few times, slippery and quick, in a way that she found almost disinterested. She had a distinct feeling that this was just a warmup.

The dildo withdrew all the way, then disappeared under her. There was a whirring sound, two clicks, and the arm reappeared, this time tipped with a rubber cock that was much shorter and at least three times as thick. Katie caught her breath, as his comments about getting "fitted" suddenly made a horrible kind of sense.

The new dildo plunged into her well-lubed cunt, and Katie winced as the thickness filled her completely and stretched her taut. Her legs were trying to lever her up off it, hips jerking, but of course she had nowhere to go; and then she almost forgot about going anywhere, as the black rubber toy began to rotate and pulse with vibration.

She'd had a vibrator inside her all night, of course, but this was... different. Katie felt her eyes fluttering a little, the surge of heat in her belly almost robbing her of thought altogether. No! She shook her head violently, biting down on the thin cotton, trying to keep focused. She wasn't going to let this bastard's machine get to her. How arrogant was he, to think that his prisoners could be turned into wanton sluts by a rubber cock and a couple of gears?

Then something wet and warm rolled firmly over her clit, and Katie cried out at the surge of pleasure.

Eyes wide, she looked quickly down, to find that another spindly steel arm had crept around her waist and was engaged in massaging her swollen nub with a blunt tool--wet and textured like a rough tongue, but shaped more like one of those round-tipped markers she'd seen her grandmother use at the bingo hall. It was frighteningly effective. The twirling, pumping movement of the dildo was only getting faster; the room was full of the soft sucking sound as the machine fucked her throbbing cunt.

Katie clenched her jaw and closed her eyes tight, willing herself not to feel them. A bright red flush rose up her neck to her cheeks as she breathed, shallow and fast; she didn't even realize that her taut little body was still twisting as much as it could within her bonds. The bright light from overhead gleamed on her skin, glistening with sweat.

It was almost with relief that she realized she couldn't stop it: she was going to come.

Her panting changed tenor and her legs froze, trembling in place. The tongue-machine had accelerated too, now alternately rolling her clit and firmly slapping against it. After all that time with nothing at all on her most sensitive spot, Katie had no defenses. The tingling rush of her orgasm built and built, mounting her spine--

And everything stopped.

In disbelief, Katie looked down to find that the machines had withdrawn. The dildo had pulled out of her pussy and frozen an inch below her; the tongue was similarly frozen. Awkwardly, without even thinking of what she was doing, she tried to move her hips down and forward--to get them back. She'd been so close!

A blast of frozen air hissed from a nozzle below the tongue-machine, and Katie squealed in shock. Condensation quickly formed a cloud between her legs, and as the stream went on, she could feel icy water beading up on the bare lips of her throbbing pussy. Her jerking struggle became even more frantic before as she struggled to escape the painfully cold jet.

After an endless minute, it stopped, and she was left trembling, her orgasm now well out of reach. Blinking back tears of shock and pain, Katie glanced over at the monitor again.

///log entry 4425, 11:28:22: subject 229 approaches breakpoint #1

///log entry 4426, 11:29:04: subject 229 reprimanded

///log entry 4427, 11:29:05: resetting...

Reprimanded? she thought, furiously. That son of a bitch!

Then the machines went back to work, and this time, they were less gentle.

The dildo began to slam so hard into her slippery cunt that she was bodily shaken, breasts bouncing, the tongue carefully following her jerking clit. Katie couldn't keep from letting out a little yelp each time it penetrated her, but the relentless machines still forced her arousal to spike with each thrust. After what seemed like only minutes, she was helplessly dangling on the verge of coming again.

They stopped. Katie held her breath, knowing what came next, but she still squealed when the icy chill sprayed her pussy.

Then they did it again. And again. And again.

Katie had long since given up on keeping quiet and abandoned herself to moaning like a bitch in heat; her pussy would have been raw if not for several reapplications of lube. She sagged in the straps and let the machine fuck her until she almost came, then thrashed wildly at the cold, then waited for the thick rubber cock to begin using her again.

She thought she was past the point of caring, almost detached from her needy, aching body. Until the dildo withdrew entirely, and with two whirring clicks, was replaced by something worse.

Katie stared at the cock in disbelief. It was blue, conical, and almost medical-looking, ringed with several graduated ridges that seemed to indicate its increasing girth toward the base.

There's no way that's going more than two inches into me, she thought in a panic.

On the first thrust, it went five.

The straps were the only thing that kept her from flying off the chair each time it slammed into her dripping cunt; the assault on her clit increased to a frenzy, and still she was not permitted to come. Katie could barely breathe between squeals as she was fucked deeper and harder than ever. She was a mess, hair sticking to her gasping face, chest and neck flushed, pussy swollen as the tendons in her thighs stood out taut with anticipation.

Still the machine managed to surprise her, as the slender, lube-dripping dildo lined up behind her and slid unerringly into her ass.

Katie's eyes went wide with panic, and she frantically struggled to escape yet again, but another thick dildo was already nestling up to her as the lubricator withdrew. It began to force its way between her cheeks, one inch at a time; she grunted and squirmed with the pain, but each movement was accompanied by a thrumming pressure on her clit. She wasn't sure which was more frustrating: the way it made each new shock of pain almost pleasurable, or the way the pain kept each mechanical lick from bringing her any closer to coming.

Once it had buried itself, withdrawn, and pushed slowly in again, the machine seemed to decide that the time for caution was over. Both cocks began to fuck her, in an offbeat rhythm so that sometimes they would be alternating, and other times both plunging deep into her together. She tried to count the number of times the machine fucked her to the brink and blasted her with cold this way. She lost count at two.

She seemed to remember that once upon a time, the clock on the computer had said it was eleven-thirty. When she managed to glance again, breathlessly, it was well into the evening. She'd been bound and teased for almost twenty hours, and still it wouldn't--

The machines stopped and withdrew. Katie, whimpering, prepared for the blast of ice--but it didn't come.

All the arms clicked and whined as they disappeared behind her. Following them dazedly with her eyes, she saw the screen again:

///log entry 5817, 20:06:10: subject 229 fitting complete.

///log entry 5818, 20:06:11: subject 229 breakpoint sequence beginning...

She thought she knew what "breakpoint" meant by now. With trepidation, she looked down.

A new spindly arm had extended from her left side, a wire running along its length, tipped with a black contact pad. It pressed lightly against her clit and paused.

A jolt of electricity surged through her, and Katie came.

There was no relief, no fulfillment in this: though her body arched and trembled and jerked, though her toes curled and her eyes rolled back, the device seemed calculated somehow to rob the deep satisfaction she needed after the endless denial. Katie sagged and whimpered, hating the unfairness of it almost as much as she'd hated the cruel forced arousal.

Then the pad crackled against her again, far too soon. Katie screamed and jerked upright as the second orgasm shook her aching hips. This time it didn't even wait for that to run its course; just as she came down from its peak, she was forced to come again, then again. Her clit was so sensitive that every brush of the pad was pain, but still it wrung the climaxes from her body.

Through tears, she caught sight of the monitor again.

///log entry 5825, 20:08:54: breakpoint #4 achieved.

///log entry 5826, 20:08:55: charging for breakpoint #5.

///log entry 5827, 20:08:55: don't worry, katie. only 16 more to go... 



Housebound Ch. 04



Note: This, as you might guess, takes place just after and then during the events of chapters two and three. You don't need to read them to figure out what's going on, but if you like this kind of thing...

*

Emma had quickly grown to hate her workout clothes--the little black lycra shorts, low-rise cotton panties, tiny white socks and black-and-pink sports bra she'd thought were so cute when she checked herself out in the mirror. They itched now, and wearing so little in the back of the damn van all night had made for a very cold ride. Even her ponytail holder had betrayed her, falling out early on and letting her hair flop everywhere--and with the gag in, she couldn't blow it out of her face.

She was almost lucky he'd grabbed her at the beginning of her run, before she had a chance to get sweaty. She hadn't been able to believe it at first--grabbed and pulled into a van while out on a night jog? Really? Was this real life or a cautionary anecdote? But by the time he'd bound her hands behind her, locked her to the post, shoved vibrator inside her and spent the rest of the night picking up two more bewildered girls, she'd been forced to believe it. Especially when he stopped the van, far from anywhere she knew, and started pulling them out.

By the time he'd taken the rest of them, one by one, and carried them off into... whatever this place was, Emma had more or less given up on the idea of struggling; she'd watched the redhead, then the blindfolded girl, then the feisty brunette all kick and squirm like wildcats, only to be handled easily and spanked for their trouble, like this guy was some kind of judo master.

It hadn't escaped her notice that their hair colors all differed (brown, red, black and her own nearly-white blonde), or that they all had similar figures: from slender to athletic, petite but leggy, with small breasts and within a few years of the same age. This guy clearly had not only a well-honed system for picking up girls, but particular tastes he was looking to sate. The four of them were a matched set. But Emma had no intention of playing her part.

So when he returned for her, she went limp as he untied her, letting her shoulders shake a little, turning her face away. Yeah, she thought as he heaved her out, just lull yourself into believe I'm going easy, you bastard...

In the meantime, dangling upside-down over his shoulder, she tried to get an idea of where they were. The garage where he'd parked the van was large, holding two more vans just like it, along with a few expensive-looking cars and a motorcycle. Every one gleamed as if it'd been freshly detailed. That gave her hope: if there was some kind of staff here, or at least visiting attendants, there was a chance of escape.

Out of the garage and into a basement hallway lined with six ominous metal doors; the clanking she'd heard must mean that the brunette girl was behind one of these now. She noticed that each one had a peephole--but that the eyepiece was set to look inward.

They came to a more normal-looking staircase with hardwood steps, split by a landing halfway up, and began to climb. As they went, Emma noticed the door of what was almost definitely an elevator opposite the stairs. How big was this place? It seemed like just a large house, but what kind of house had an elevator, and why?

Then she had a vision of herself tied to that pillar again, but this time on a wheeled platform, on its way down the elevator to those metal doors. Emma felt her heart pound against her ribs.

Confirming her house hypothesis, Emma glimpsed some kind of large, open room at the top of the second flight--decorated like a teenage boy's dream hangout, with a massive television and speakers, but again incongruously spotless and organized. Then they were climbing up another flight, and another, until they emerged from the stairway (another elevator door here, she noted) onto a glassed-in balcony.

Emma was looking out onto a forest, with hills rising slightly to either side, and no other sign of civilization--the sun was rising, and she couldn't even see a streetlight anywhere. This house was completely isolated. A perfect place, she thought, to spend some time alone with your victims...

The balcony led to another hallway, though the doors up here were mahogany, not metal. Yet the one he opened seemed to belong in a much darker place.

It was laid out with a frightening clarity: the large bed in the center was a four-poster, but its posts were steel, anodized to a dark red color. There was only one sheet. A few feet away on either side were steel tool cabinets with dozens of drawers. One wall had several panel doors set into it, made of some kind of smoked glass that offered a dim view of another balcony and the trees beyond. Two more walls were lined with shackles. There were rings set into the floor, mirrored by rings welded to the ceiling--which, she noticed, was a grid of dark pipes like that of a black-box theater. In fact, the light in here came from a number of dimmed theatrical spotlights, aimed to highlight the gleaming metal pieces in the room.

Emma knew exactly what was going to happen in here.

So the minute he tossed her onto the bed, she rolled away frantically, bouncing sideways off it and stumbling onto her feet. He was already moving for the door, but she faked toward him, then spun and darted for the balcony door.

Before he could get to her, she wedged a toe into one side, and the door slid open as she'd hoped; a quick glance confirmed that it was too high to jump down from the outside, but she was out of the room. This balcony seemed to continue all the way around the second floor, so she picked right at random and ran, tucking her feet in a roll as she went to get her hands under her legs. They were still bound, but at least now they were in front of her.

Emma ran.

Glad he hadn't removed her running shoes, she made for the corner of the house. She could hear him stepping out onto the balcony behind her. Emma darted around the corner, adrenaline making her weary muscles suddenly alive and quick.

There were more of the same smoked-glass sliding doors on this side. Taking a gamble, she ran to the second one and pulled it open with her bound hands--then left it behind and headed forward again, around the next corner of the wraparound balcony. With luck, he'd assume she'd gone back inside and check that room, whatever it was. She thought she'd glimpsed workout equipment inside it.

No time to wonder. Rounding onto the back side of the house, she saw that the balcony extended onto a proper deck with an external stairway--yes! Trying to move quickly without making much noise, she headed straight to it and swung herself around and down.

Glancing back where she'd come, she still didn't see him. Her ruse had bought her some time! Emma was sure her heart was pounding loud enough to give her away, but she made her footsteps careful and quiet, angling to get far enough down that the deck would hide her from sight.

Soon she was back at the ground floor, looking in the large windows of a huge kitchen that extended from the back of the house. She ducked around behind it and took a moment to untie and toss aside the gag from her mouth, then to stick a hand down her shorts and pull the insistent egg vibrator out of her pussy. She tossed both aside with a hateful look.

Breathing fast, Emma took a moment to consider her options. Until she figured out where she was, finding a phone wouldn't help--she wouldn't be able to tell anyone where to find her. That left two choices: running off through the woods and hoping she stumbled onto civilization, or stealing a car. Without any knowledge of the surrounding forest, she liked her odds with the car better. Unfortunately, that meant going back inside.

If her mental map of the house was right, the garage was in a partially-exposed basement--on the opposite side from her. He'd have to have figured out that she wasn't in the workout room now, so he'd be looking around the perimeter of the balcony. Going straight through the house was a better choice.

Climbing to her feet, she crept to the exterior door of the kitchen and softly twisted the knob. The door opened without a creak. She remembered noticing how well-maintained this place was. Inside, she crouched for a moment; the only sound she could hear was a soft whimpering from somewhere else on this floor. It caught at her heart, but the fact was that she had no way to uncuff the other captives, any more than she could herself. Her best chance was to get out and send help back to them.

Still, there were no footsteps. Keeping herself crouched to hide behind the big island in the middle of the kitchen's tile floor, she moved slowly to its open side, and found herself looking out at the big entertainment center she'd noticed on her way up. She was closer to the garage than she'd thought--there was the doorway to the staircase.

Every part of her body wanted to sprint for it, but Emma knew she had to be cautious. A house built to keep girls prisoner, as she was beginning to suspect this one was, had to have cameras everywhere. She made herself step softly onto the carpet and creep around the edge of the wall until she arrived.

Emma stepped into the staircase, knowing this was the riskiest part: he could easily look down the center gap and spot her. She pulled off her shoes and, holding them in one hand, took two steps at a time down the wooden stairs.

She was out into the frightening hallway and its array of steel doors. Emma wanted to peek inside--whatever was happening to the brown-haired girl in there, she was sure it was awful--but she didn't know which was the right one, and her time was running out. She gritted her teeth and moved past them.

She was in the garage at last. Emma didn't know much about cars, but the second one in the line had a logo that she thought she recognized as a Bentley. More importantly, it looked fast. Still in her socks, she padded to the driver's side and pulled open the unlocked door.

If these cars had been professionally detailed, then something she'd seen on TV shows might work--she reached her bound hands up above the little flip-down shade, and a thrill of elation ran through her as she felt a key ring. She was going to make it out of here. She was going to escape!

The arrogant bastard hadn't even bothered closing the garage door behind himself. Emma buckled her seat belt, shoved the key into the ignition, and turned it.

"Thumbprint identification failed," purred the car. "Initiating restraint procedures."

"NO!" Emma cried out in horror as the belt suddenly tightened across her waist and shoulder; within a second, more belts were deploying, snapping over her arms and ankles. Her hands were ripped away from the ignition and pulled back against her body. The seat was reclining automatically, going back impossibly far, until she was forced to arch upwards by the tightness of her bonds. A belt snapped across her mouth, pulling her head back and gagging her once again.

Emma struggled desperately, but the belts were immovable. After being so close to freedom, here she was--strapped down tight and helpless, with her grinning captor looking down at her through the windshield.

"I sort of hoped you'd try this," he said, opening the driver's door. "I thought you looked like a fighter. And if there's one thing I love, it's when a girl assumes I'm an idiot."

"Mmmm MMMM!" Emma managed to jerk a little against the straps, but they only drew tighter. Meanwhile, he climbed into the car and straddled her, pulling a rubber-lined steel circle from his back pocket.

"You should have tried making it on foot," he says. "You wouldn't have, of course--the woods are filled with security cameras, and there's a fifteen-foot fence around the perimeter of the estate--but you could have stayed out a little longer, since I hadn't gotten this on you yet." Carefully, he pulled her loose hair from behind her slender neck, then fastened the collar snugly around it.

Emma felt her heart drop as it clicked shut. She was sure there was more to this than just the symbolism--which was confirmed as she felt a paralyzing jolt of electricity down her spine. She gasped through the gag.

"Refreshing, isn't it?" He tapped the face of his wristwatch, and Emma let out a little squeak this time as the collar jolted her again. "It does all kinds of other things, too, as you'll learn... like emitting a tracking beacon that will let me find you pretty quickly if you try to run off again." He was pulling more slender straps out of the glove compartment now, clipping the metal ring at one end of them to her wrist cuffs, the other end to her collar. Then he pulled a pair of blunt scissors from his pocket.

"I bet you hate these clothes by now anyway," he chuckled, and began to slice through the sides of her shorts.

Emma closed her eyes and tried to think as she felt the tight fabric start to go slack. Playing possum had worked once, but he wouldn't fall for that trick again. The bonds obviously weren't about to give her any slack. She'd foolishly bypassed the other girls in her rush to save herself, so she had no backup--she hadn't even thought to grab a knife from the kitchen. She was running out of plans...

Her shorts were gone; the cold metal of the scissors slid up her side and under her sports bra, then began to cut.

She couldn't plead with him, gagged; she couldn't bargain, or even threaten. If she somehow managed to get free of him, she wouldn't get far without shoes. The tight elastic of her top snapped loose as he finished cutting through one side and moved the scissors to the other. In a moment, it would be gone. She was helpless, stripped and out of options; she could be shocked like cattle whenever he wanted, or tracked down on a whim. She was utterly defeated.

Emma tried very hard not to admit that the thought made her pulse race.

He tossed aside the remains of her bra, and she squirmed under him in nothing but her black cotton panties, socks and steel collar. He took one of her small pink nipples between his fingers and pinched, then began to pull slowly upwards, until her back arched even further and she clenched her eyes shut against the painful tightness.

"I'm going to undo the belts," he said. "I'm going to paralyze you and lift you out of the car, and I'm going to make you crawl on your knees and elbows before me, like a little bitch. We're going back upstairs to the red room, where I will chain you to the bed and violate your cunt, your mouth, and your ass. Your clit will be stimulated thoroughly, but you will not be permitted to come. Any sign of struggle will be punished swiftly and sharply. And oh, Emma... I do so hope you struggle."

Emma groaned through the strap and shut her eyes. She tried to tell herself it was from fear, and not from the pulsing ache in her pussy--and then the shock hit.

Gasping in pain, she felt the belts loosen, but her muscles wouldn't work. She was lifted out easily and dropped belly-down on the dirty garage floor, her pale, slender form twitching and rigid. When at last the shock subsided, she discovered that the gag was gone, but that the straps around her wrist cuffs still kept them tight against her neck. He hadn't been kidding about crawling on her elbows; she was going to have to do exactly that, and with her face practically pressed to the floor to boot.

"You don't have to do this," she managed, and then yelped in pain as his open-handed smack landed square on her pussy.

"Trying to negotiate," he said calmly, "is resistance," and one hand tangled tightly in her fine blonde hair. The other spanked her most sensitive place again and again, while a knee in her back kept her from rolling over or pulling her legs together.

Emma tried to count them to distract herself--five, six, seven--soon she was squealing loudly each time, unable to contain it. Fuck, he was strong! "Please!" she finally cried out. "Don't, please, stop, stop!"

One more slap, even harder than the rest, and then he finally relented. "Then move, Emma," he murmured, and she could hear him panting from exertion too. The pressure on her back let up, and she felt a click as he snapped a chain leash into the back of her collar.

Emma moved.

Inch by inch, she made her way into the hallway again, with him close behind and the chain wound up short. If she went too fast, she felt the leash jerk tight, choking her; when she slowed down a tiny bit, she was rewarded with another spank. Her face was bright pink with effort, anger, frustration and fear. Emma tried desperately to think of something to say that would make him reconsider, give him pause, convince him to let her go or even just wait a minute, but nothing came; the pounding of her blood in her ears mirrored the throbbing in her swollen pussy, and only some of that was from pain. She could barely think at all.

They were at the elevator; another reason to have it, she thought, to transport crawling women. But he jerked her away from the door and forced her to turn the other direction. "Ah ah," he said, smacking her again and making her gasp, "your little stunt with the workout room means you get to take the scenic route."

Panting and humiliated, Emma found herself crawling step by step up the staircase, like a child. At the first landing, he pulled her up short and put a knee on her back again, forcing her face against the hardwood. Then he yanked down on the back of her panties, and Emma felt her eyes go wide at a sudden pressure between her cheeks.

"Every good bitch needs a tail," he said, and the first lubricated bead slid into her ass. Emma squirmed desperately, wanting it out, now, but he held her down and pushed in a second... then a third.

At last he released her, and she felt the rest of the chain of beads fall to swing down between her thighs. "Y-you're a sick fuck," she managed.

"Acknowledged," he said. "Now mush."

Two steps. Four steps. Seven steps. Ten. Emma couldn't bear to look out into the main living area, where she'd been free for such a short time; she kept her face turned to the wall and bit her lip as he held her down again and shortened her "tail" by pushing three more beads inside her. The worst part of it was that each time he pushed one in, she felt her pussy pulse with need; he was degrading her, humiliating her, and it was making her soak right through her panties.

Another flight. Three more beads. The last flight, and they were at the top, where he forced five beads inside her--the last of which felt twice as big as any of the others, so that he had to press painfully hard.

Emma yelped at the sensation as it slid inside her at last. With his knee still pushing down on her back, she felt his finger run gently up her neck, then brush a little of her fine blonde hair away from her heated cheek.

"You're wet," he murmured. "I can smell you from here, girl."

"You had a vibrator inside me all night," she managed. "Don't be too fucking proud of yourself."

He laughed a little. "No, I know you left that one outside. This... this is fresh." His hand worked its way under the side of her panties and stroked slowly over her swollen, moist, achingly tender lips. "You're not just a bitch, are you, Emma? You're a bitch in heat."

Emma was about to retort when his fingers closed on the little nub at the top of her pussy and began to slowly tighten. She bit her lip and panted through her nose as he toyed with her; her clit had been cruelly denied any pressure all night, until he'd started spanking it downstairs, and now this mix of pain and pleasure was almost a sensory overload. She felt her hips jerking involuntarily as she tried not to let him have the satisfaction of hearing her squeak like a toy.




Housebound Ch. 04



She failed.

His fingers released her, then, and she panted with relief until she realized he was digging in his pocket for yet another of his seemingly endless supply of devices. When he found it, he flipped her easily over onto her back and shoved his knee between her legs to hold them apart, even as one hand pressed between her breasts to keep her down. The other hand was tugging off the last scraps of her clothing.

Collared, nude, achingly wet against her will, with a string of beads shoved up her ass. Emma didn't see how her situation could possibly get any more degrading. That was, until he brought out a specially shaped clamp and set it on her clit.

"No!" she gasped, and bucked wildly, consequences be damned; but he just smiled and started to tap the face of his watch, still holding her down. Each shock was more painful than the last; she grunted with pain, then yelped, then screamed aloud by the time he got to ten jolts. Her muscles were shaking too badly to even squirm. He spanked her pussy a few more times, until her clit was throbbing and stiff, and put the clamp back onto it. He tightened it and flicked her once to make sure it was on firmly, as she gasped raggedly for breath.

Then he took the leash off of her collar and clipped it to the clamp.

"Up," he said, standing and finally releasing her. She failed to get her legs under her on her first try; he snapped the leash until she managed it, legs still shaking. Then he made her walk behind him, wrists still strapped to her collar, as they once again entered the room with the bed in the middle.

Emma was right back where she'd started, and even worse off. Her whole body ached. Heat burned in her lower belly, and she could feel a trickle of her own wetness making its way down her left thigh.

He pulled her to the bed, then pushed her down onto it, on her back. The last time he'd done that she'd managed to use the bounciness of the springs to get away from him, but this time there was no chance of that. She tried to squirm away, weakly, but he simply grabbed her collar and hauled her over to where he wanted her: horizontally splayed across the sheet, with her head hanging off the edge of the mattress.

"Would you like to be gagged?" he asked matter-of-factly, as he unzipped his black jeans and let them drop, then pulled his sweater off over his head. His cock wasn't huge, but it stood out rigid enough under his boxers until he pulled them down as well. "I ask only as a courtesy."

"Fuck you," Emma panted.

He grinned, clambering onto the bed above her and forcing his knee between her thighs again. Emma still hadn't quite recovered from her last bout with the electric collar; she couldn't keep him out. Soon he had her legs on either side of his waist, putting one hand under her hips to lift her wet pussy up toward his cock.

"You first," he said, and jerked the leash.

The pain in her clit was exquisite. Emma inhaled sharply and felt herself bucking her hips forward, forcing herself onto him to relieve the pressure, her body completely at his command. His cock impaled her and still he yanked at her clit-leash; she found her legs wrapping around him, pulling him as deep as she could bear into her aching cunt.

She learned the correct rhythm soon enough: he snapped the leash, and she pulled him as deep inside herself as she could; he released, and she slid back a little, just enough to pull him in again. Her ankles were crossed behind his back, and the bed was damp and cool beneath her with their sweat and her wetness. Jerk, release. Jerk, release. Fuck, release. Fuck.

It wasn't until he actually released the clamp and took it off her clit that she fuzzily realized he'd stopped using the leash some time ago, and that she was fucking him anyway.

"How does that feel?" he said, throaty and amused, as she hissed through her teeth at the tingling pins and needles that accompanied blood rushing back into her clit. The sensation grew suddenly more intense, then began to recede, and she glanced down in mid-fuck to see that he'd placed something new against it: like a little vibrating silicone cup, lubricated, at one end of a thick handle.

Even after all the abuse he'd dealt her pussy--perhaps because of that--it felt good. Really good. Emma's cunt was flooding anew, and she found herself fucking him even faster, because when she relaxed her trembling legs and pulled away he pulled the toy away too.

"Subject is nonverbal," he said, panting as he braced himself against her bucking hips, "but reaction is very positive. I've often wondered if I could control a slut like you purely through clitoral manipulation, Emma."

"--not a s-slut," she gasped, in the face of all available evidence, chest and cheeks flushed, body gleaming with sweat.

"Then stop," he whispered. "Try to escape again. Show me what you're really made of."

He pulled the toy away.

Emma, whimpering, tried to make herself unlock her ankles and push herself off his hot thick hard cock. Instead, she felt herself arching desperately upward, like a begging puppy, her clit following the cup.

He laughed and began to brush the tip softly and lightly against her, breaking her rhythm, until she was squirming like a marionette to follow his hand. "Now, now, a good slave must recite her lessons before she gets her reward. What did I tell you would happen, down there in the garage?"

"That I'd c-crawl," she managed.

"Crawl like what?"

"Like a little--like--aaAAHH!--like a l-little bitch!"

He gave her a brief burst of pressure, just as she pulled him deeper than ever, and Emma felt her mouth opening, eyes rolling back in her head. "Good! And then?"

Her mouth was so dry (yet she was so wet)--she had to lick her lips several times before she could continue. "Chain me to the b-bed."

"Oh! Do you know, I nearly forgot that?"

Her eyes went wide, and he reached down, roughly grabbing her pussy and shoving her away from him. Confused, she let her legs untangle from around him as he pulled out of her, but before she could have a moment to figure out what was happening, he'd flipped her over onto her belly.

His hand was at her collar, doing something, and then the straps binding her wrists came free of it with a metallic click. She had no opportunity to do anything about this (and at this point, she found herself wondering, what would she have done?), as he was instantly yanking her arms out straight and locking each wrist into a ring a couple feet up the tall steel bedposts.

She was almost kneeling, now, but pitched considerably forward, with much of her weight on her wrists. To get any kind of balance at all, she had to try to pull her legs under her--but his knees were pressing down hard on her ankles, so that when she did that, the only effect was to pull her body back a few inches.

Onto his waiting cock.

"I do think the cameras like this angle better," he breathed in her ear, as one hand began to tease her clit with the toy again and the other came up to pinch a stiff pink nipple.

Humiliatingly, Emma realized she'd already begun to fuck herself back against him again--but only because she couldn't help it, in this awkward position. Right? The question blurred into meaninglessness in her mind as she groaned with animal need, his cock now in the perfect position to grind against her g-spot.

"We haven't reached the end of the lesson yet," he reminded her. "What did I say I'd do next?"

"Ffffuckme," she breathed.

"Be specific," he murmured, biting her earlobe sharply.

"Ngh! Uh, v-violate my cunt!"

"And then?"

Emma's heart pounded. "M-mouth?"

The teasing pleasure at her clit suddenly stopped, and she found the pulsing little cup at the end of the toy before her lips. She could see the way it gleamed, her own wetness coating the tip.

"Open," he said.

Still fucking him, Emma sucked it clean.

He began to pound back against her for the first time, forcing the toy deep into her mouth; Emma knew he couldn't possibly last forever, and she could hear the ragged edge of control in his voice as he whispered again. "I gave you a rule to obey, didn't I, Emma?"

"Mmm nnn mmmm--"

"That's right," he said, pulling the toy out from between her lips with a pop, "you aren't going to come. Not today, girl. No matter how bad you want to." He pressed it down hard against her clit, now wet from her tongue instead, and she was sure he was wrong: she was definitely going to come, any minute now, she was so fucking close! But he pulled away at the last moment, and suddenly slowed his thrusts, leaving her balanced on the very edge. Thoughtlessly, Emma pushed back, trying to get his cock back inside her. She only needed a little more--

"No no no NO," he growled, and she felt the clamp snap onto her clit once more.

Emma squealed like a--well, like nothing so much as a girl throwing a tantrum, she had to admit, as her body thrashed wildly at the sudden pain. He rode her gyrations for a minute or so, enjoying her desperate squirming, before a tap on his damnable watch stilled her with a paralyzing shock.

"You skipped something, didn't you? Such a naughty slut, thinking she could be clever. I suppose I'll have to instruct you. I promised, Emma, to violate your cunt, your mouth, and... oh yes."

Emma hung in her chains, exhausted muscles twitching, dripping with sweat and her own arousal. She knew what was coming. She almost welcomed it.

He began to fuck her again, pressing the toy against her clamped and hypersensitive clit for a slow and measured second with each long thrust. Emma felt herself climbing to the peak of orgasm, getting closer and closer--and then, just as he rammed himself particularly deep, he pulled the first bead out of her ass.

There was pain to it, and pleasure, and shock, and somehow it was just enough to distract her from the attentions being paid to her pussy. Then he thrust again, rolling the tip of the toy against her, and she surged upward--and the second bead on the chain popped out.

Over and over he did it, manipulating her body with masterful precision, until she was too wild with desperate need to do anything but writhe and fuck... and beg him.

"No," she heard herself whimper, "please, don't, fffFFUCK, can't, c-can't, cunt, please, please please please nnnoooo--"

The words leaving her mouth seemed distant and independent somehow; she had no control over them, and wasn't even sure if she was begging him to stop or to just fucking get on with it. All Emma could think of was being bound here, wrists and cunt and clit and ass aching, always wet, always frustrated, always completely possessed.

She couldn't remember how many beads he'd put inside her, and she lost count at a ten on the way out. Then, when she finally felt the last one leave, he pulled off the clamp. Again, the pins and needles; again, the overstimulation and gradual relief of the toy, keeping her trembling on edge.

He began to push the beads back in.

Emma broke; she knew it, felt it happen. Her body ceased to be her own. It was his toy, his possession; she existed to provide him with a cunt, and her clit and nipples and mouth and ass were controls on her to be used as he chose. "Please," she whispered, "please, please, you win, your cunt, all yours, please!"

He pulled out, and she felt his hot cum splash against her back; she cried out with each spurt against her gleaming skin, feeling something happen inside her aching pussy that wasn't an orgasm exactly--a pulse, a contraction, a tightening of a leash that offered new heights of desperate pleasure without a hint of relief. Hanging there on her knees like a sacrifice to some ancient beast, dripping with sweat and wetness and his seed, Emma closed her eyes, unable to believe the deep satisfaction thrumming through her still-needy body.

His hand stroked her cheek. "We're going into the bathroom now," he said, his own voice a little raw. "You will crouch on the floor, where I will clean you, after I've cleaned myself. You will be permitted water and a little food, and then we'll go to the bedroom across the hall. I'll lock your collar to the end of that bed, and you'll sleep naked at my feet. Disobedience... well, I think I can rely on you to be tame for the moment, can't I, Emma?"

Without looking up, she nodded.

He unclipped her chafing wrists from the bedposts and locked the slender leash to her collar once more. He didn't even have to snap it; aching and stiff, she lowered herself down onto the floor, on her knees and elbows, fingers locked behind her head. She arched her back to look up and follow his finger. He pointed toward the door.

Emma crawled.



Housebound Ch. 05



At some point, after her twenty-one forced electrical orgasms had ended and the machine had begun (slowly but firmly) fucking her again, Katie had simply passed out. Overwhelmed by the powerful stimulation of the machine as it held and toyed with her body, she fell into strange and cruel dreams of enormous steel hands, shuddering pleasure and dozens of girls moaning in unison with her, all kneeling submissively at the base of a throne.

When she woke, stiff and aching, she found herself free of the machine. She was lying tangled in a white blanket atop a loose pile of pillows, with sunlight streaming in the windows of a small, plain room.

She sat up quickly, only to discover that she wasn't quite as free as she'd thought. She was wearing some kind of heavy collar, padded but snug enough that she couldn't twist it. Her hands were still bound with leather-lined cuffs behind her. Her legs were unbound, but the thought of running was quickly pushed out of her head when she realized what the thing between her legs was.

It was a very strange sort of chastity belt--but Katie had no doubt it was one. A sort of flat, glossy black cup covered most of her pussy, held in place by a pair of black leather straps that rose up above her hipbones and seemed to connect at the small of her back, just over a cold metal disc. As she squirmed around, trying to get a better look at it, she could feel that it was holding itself in place inside her cunt as well--not painfully, though she had no doubt it would become painful if she tried to remove it.

Completing the setup was a little X of black electrical tape directly over her clit, holding a hard little bead of some kind in place against it. A slim wire ran from the bead down under the cup: Katie had figured out enough by now to guess that it was a vibrator, and that she was sick of these toys. She reached down, arching her back to get her hands between her legs and pull the whole apparatus out.

"I wouldn't," said a girl's voice from the doorway.

Katie looked up to see one of the other girls from the back of the van: the pretty blonde one, who seemed to have been grabbed in the middle of a nighttime jog. She was out of her workout clothes now, though, wearing a metal collar of her own--and one of the most humiliating outfits Katie had ever seen.

It was something like a slutty maid costume that a sorority girl might wear for Halloween, but even those weren't as outrageous as this one. The underlying little black dress barely even reached her hips, exposing so much leg that Katie could clearly see the girl wore a chastity belt too. Predictably, she was wearing a pair of black stilettos that must have been like walking en pointe. Her white stockings rose to her thighs, and the matching white pinafore over the dress wasn't just low-cut--it was actually scooped to frame and push up her completely bared breasts, which were small and perky enough not to need much support. As she turned to close the door and walk in, Katie could see that it was completely backless, tied together behind her only by a little black-ribbon bow.

And she was holding another costume just like it.

"I'm not putting that on," Katie said immediately.

"I didn't want to either," said the blonde girl, sounding a little desperate. "But believe me, it'll get so much worse. He can do things to your body that--you just can't understand--"

"Oh, I can understand," said Katie, shuddering. "He had me down in this little room all night, strapped into a machine."

The girl turned bright pink. "Oh," she mumbled, "that was you?"

"But if he's stupid enough to think he can turn me into some brainless bimbo just by torturing me," snapped Katie, "then he can just take all his little toys and shove them up his ass. I'd rather go naked than wear his little fetish outfit."

The girl winced. "I was afraid you'd say that."

The shock that snapped through Katie's body from her collar left her unable to think, move or even scream; her muscles locked up, arching her back and making her writhe on the pillows, and even when it finally ended and left her gasping, they were still trembling too hard for her to do more than writhe.

"My name's Emma," muttered the blonde girl, bending down to gently roll Katie onto her back. "You're Katie, right? I know this is going to seem like I'm being his, y'know, his Judas goat or something, but I'm just trying to play it smart." She began to dress Katie in the humiliating maid's uniform, tugging it tight and tying another bow behind her before pulling out another pair of thigh-highs. "There's no way we're getting out of here if we don't let him think we're playing along... trust me, I already tried."

"Ffffuck that," managed Katie, gasping for breath as her body slowly began to recover. Somehow the slutty uniform really was more humiliating than being naked. Noticing that it seemed to have been tailored to her proportions brought back his mocking words the night before, about getting her "fitted."

Emma sighed as she finished pulling Katie's stockings on and began putting her feet in the stripper-shoes. "Look, just try it my way for a little while, okay? The other two girls fought back together when he went to get them this morning, and they got absolutely nowhere. He told me a little about what he's going to do to them, to--to punish them, and I don't..." She shuddered. "No offense, but I don't want to wind up in one of those basement rooms with you."

That brought Katie up short. She wanted to fight, but she couldn't take another round on the machine; even thinking about it made her whole body tremble in fear, anger and--she had to admit--arousal. The thing had practically turned her mind into jelly, and she needed all her wits about her if she was going to get out of here intact.

"Fine," she muttered. "Whatever you say."

The relief on Emma's face was so clear that Katie almost felt guilty, knowing deep down that if she had to leave this girl behind to get free of their abductor, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

With Emma's help, she climbed to her feet, legs and arms still shaking from the shock. She quickly discovered that even walking (or tiptoeing) with the chastity device on was a maddening tease: there was something like a short, bulbous dildo inside her, cunningly shaped and flexible enough that any shift caused it to thrust and withdraw just a tiny bit. Katie flushed as the sensation of slipperiness made her realize the thing had already made her wet. It seemed to have been molded perfectly to her inner walls; she could just guess where those measurements had come from. She didn't even want to think about what it would do to her if the bead vibrator or the strange metal disc at the small of her back were activated to do... whatever they did.

Walking precariously, tarted up and fucking themselves with every step, the two girls stepped out into a short corridor. Emma, leading the way, had to steady herself on the wall at one point to stay in her heels; Katie resented the fact that her own hands were still behind her. But maybe that meant she was the one he still considered a threat...

Actually, she thought as they left the hallway and entered a very tall, circular, mirrored room, things could have been worse.

Emerging from another hallway was their kidnapper, pushing a steel thing like a bellhop's luggage cart. Instead of coat hangers, the rail at the top of it had two steel hooks attached to it, each with a long, rigid haft. Bound back-to-back and hogtied, vaginally impaled on the hooks, were their fellow victims--the redhead and the Asian girl.

Both were gagged and nude, except for their own collars and a pair of white thigh-high stockings on the redhead. They looked like they'd been struggling hard; he, meanwhile, didn't seem to even have broken a sweat. The girls would occasionally let out a muffled cry and jerk wildly, as the wheels on the cart rolled over some sort of contact and triggered a jolt of electricity from the battery wired to its base.

Even the sight of them being tormented like that brought a rush of memory from the basement room back to Katie's mind; her legs trembled. She would have liked to think it was nausea making her knees weak.

But that would have been a lie.

"Good morning, Katie, Emma," he said, stopping the cart with his foot as if this situation were the most normal thing in the world.

"Good morning, Sir," Emma chirped. Katie, sullenly, said nothing. She was trying to figure out if the two of them together could take this guy by surprise--but her hands were still cuffed, and if he'd really overpowered the other two that easily...

"You should teach Katie the proper greetings when you have a moment, Emma," he said, giving her a slightly harder look. "I need to take Jen and Amber here downstairs to instill a little discipline. You two can each take a kneeling pad and wait for me. I wouldn't attempt to leave; your collars have just been locked to the borders of this room. And we know what happens when we defy our collars, don't we?"

He winked. Katie gritted her teeth, but remembered the overpowering shock of just a few minutes before, and said nothing.

"Very well. I'll return in a moment." The girls on the cart whimpered again as he resumed rolling it out of the room.

"What was that about 'proper greetings?'" scowled Katie when she thought he was out of earshot.

"What do you think?" Emma shrugged. "He wants us to call him Sir, Master, or James."

That made Katie blink. "James?"

"Yeah." Emma turned slightly pink. "He said that, um, after last night we might as well be on a first-name basis."

Katie had no idea what to say to that.

Emma was walking over to a set of four blue velvet pads, about two feet by six inches, arranged in a semicircle on one side of the room. "I think we're supposed to settle down on these... and don't think he hasn't got cameras to make sure we're doing what he says."

Katie didn't like the idea of kneeling, but anything had to be better than standing around in these heels. She settled down onto the pad next to Emma, unconsciously settling onto her ankles and spreading her knees to keep the chastity device from digging into her thighs. Combined with the pull of her bound arms behind her back, she found herself in a naturally arched posture that was somehow the least uncomfortable position--and almost obscenely submissive.

"You picked up on that fast," said Emma, one eyebrow raised.

Katie glanced at the mirrored wall opposite them to see them both in almost exactly the same position: kneeling, spread, breasts pushed out and backs arched in their ridiculous little maid costumes. The sight made her turn several shades of red with embarrassment, among other emotions she didn't want to think about.

"It's the least awkward way to sit, I just--" With a start, Katie felt a gentle humming begin between her legs. "--what the fuck!" she finished. It wasn't just the vibrator or the dildo; the whole device was pulsing with some kind of charge that felt both physical and vaguely electric. It throbbed through not only her cunt, but her whole pussy, pelvis and even her lower back where the disc attached. It carried a certain tickling pleasure, but it was indirect and more than a little frustrating.

"He said something about... induction charging?" said Emma, shivering a little. "Like, we have to kneel on these things for a while every day to keep the batteries on the collars and... things... topped up."

"I don't think I like it," Katie said, swallowing and trying to steady her legs.

But that was a lie too.

*

Down in the basement, Jen almost sobbed with relief when her kidnapper finally stopped the cart and lifted her easily off the hook. Enduring hours of having her clit shocked the night before had been awful, but having that thing shoved so deep inside her AND still getting shocked... it was a brilliant sort of cruelty.

They'd had it all planned out that morning--Jen would be lying there on the pile of pillows when he returned, pretending to be asleep; Amber would hide behind the door as he entered. Then Amber would knock him down from behind while Jen kicked him in the balls, and the two of them would make a break for it through the door. Even with their hands bound, they'd thought that two-on-one and being prepared would be enough to get the drop on him.

It hadn't quite worked out that way.

He'd simply walked in and slammed the door wide open, trapping Amber behind it; when Jen rushed him anyway, he'd handled her like a clumsy child, flipping her upside-down with ease and locking her ankles to her wrists before she could think. Then he reached behind the door and hauled out a struggling Amber, forcing her down on her belly and shoving a knee between her legs, controlling her squirming, desperate body as if he'd been doing it his whole life.

Then he'd started spanking her pussy.

"I know this was your idea, Amber," he said firmly, even as Jen tried not to watch or listen to the wet smacking sounds of his hand or Amber's stifled gasps. "I should have known better than to put a good girl like Jen in with a bad apple like yourself." Smack; gasp. "But now you're both going to have to learn proper behavior the same way..." Smack. "Slowly." Smack. "Painfully." Smack!

Amber had finally let out a desperate, wordless squeal then. He'd grinned and held his hand out to Jen--his palm was visibly wet from spanking her.

"Or maybe she's taught you a few things already?" he mused.

"Why are you doing this?" said Jen furiously. "Leave her alone!"

He'd ignored her, locking Amber's ankles to her wrist cuffs in the same way he had her bound, then removing a sharp pair of scissors from his back pocket. Jen was humiliated to know that he had had a weapon on him the whole time and hadn't even bothered to use it to threaten them.

She was even more humiliated when he cut away her dress and left her bound, collared and totally exposed. How many guys fantasize about having an little Asian girl conveniently packaged up like this? she'd wondered bitterly. It's like he ordered us online and we just showed up at his door.

Jen tried not to think about the way that idea, along with watching his treatment of Amber, had started making her lower belly and pussy throb with warmth.

Then he'd stripped Amber down to her stockings, forced gags into both their mouths and brought in the goddamn cart. Getting picked up helplessly and dropped down onto that hook had been more than just painful; it made her feel like nothing more than a fuckdoll to be wheeled around and used when he saw fit.

When he'd started rolling them out, giving them a shock deep inside every few feet, she'd thought things couldn't possibly get any worse.

Then he'd wheeled them into the basement room.

Jen wanted very much to ignore the fact that she was both sore and absolutely dripping with wetness from that hook. He wasn't about to let her, of course. After removing Amber from her hook and dumping her on the floor, he lifted Jen off and laid her on her back (very uncomfortably, as her bound limbs were still behind her) on a high table with a hard, cold surface. Then he pulled out a speculum.

Jen's eyes went wide as he spread her lips with his fingers; she tried to wriggle away, but there was nowhere to go.

"Forgive me if I don't warm these up," he smirked, "but I don't really care if you're comfortable."

She gasped as he pushed the cold metal lips inside her and spread them wide, clicking them open with some kind of ratchet mechanism. Going to the gynecologist had never been like this. Especially when, leaning down to look into her cunt, he brought a small tool of some kind out of his pocket and started applying vibration to her clit.

Jen wriggled even harder; the gag muffled a stream of blistering curses, but he held her down and continued to examine her as if she were some kind of animal. "You're only making this last longer, you know," he said calmly, pinching her clit harder against the vibration, then removing it, then pushing the vibe up between her cheeks to buzz against her anus. Jen nearly arched off the table when he did that.

"Sensitive, hmm?" He grinned. "Thought you might be. The machines will be gathering plenty of data on you in a moment, of course, but I like to do an exam myself too... I feel it brings a certain intimacy to the proceedings."

Jen glared at him, cheeks flushed and hair clinging to her face, her whole body covered in a thin gloss of sweat and with her own wetness visibly dripping from her swollen cunt. She hated him more than she'd ever hated anyone at that moment.

He stroked the vibe lightly over her clit, and she realized that her body didn't seem to care about that.

He began to toy with her body in a series of escalating cycles. He would work her clit slowly but surely between one finger and the vibrator-tool, up and down, hands steady no matter how much she writhed. After a couple minutes of that, he'd suddenly pinch her clit and hold it between his thumb and forefinger, even as he flicked on a tiny flashlight at the end of the tool and used it to peer deep inside her. When she tried to squirm free of his grip, he simply took two fingers and pushed them up between her cheeks; they were already wet and slippery from her own juices, so she was forced to jerk up again to keep him from penetrating her ass.

Then he'd mutter a couple of notes to himself, release her clit, and ratchet the speculum open a notch wider, stretching her painfully. He'd start working her clit with the vibe again--this time maybe in circles, or side to side, or sliding it easily inside her open cunt to probe at her g-spot.

Jen hadn't even been sure her g-spot existed, but she was sure as hell certain now.

By the time he finally closed and withdrew the speculum, she had to admit, she was trembling at the edge of orgasm--nearly as worked up as she had been after spending hours in the van with that vibrating egg inside her. The way he could seemingly control her arousal with barely an effort infuriated her. It was as if he knew her body better than she did.

He lifted her up off the table and replaced her with Amber, who had been watching with mounting fear the whole time. She hadn't even tried to make for the door--not that there was much point, Jen realized, in a hogtie with the heavy door securely shut. Jen lay panting, the heat of arousal still pulsing through her belly, and watched him work on the red-haired girl.

Jen actually thought she'd handled it a little better herself. Amber absolutely couldn't control her body when he pushed the tool deep inside her; she would thrash and scream into the gag, and he'd have to grab both her nipples and hold to keep her from squirming right off the table. His ability to control a girl's body was more than just a talent, Jen found herself thinking: it was almost supernatural. He read girls like some people read stock tickers.

Watching Amber's torment was somehow making her even more aroused. Trying to distract herself, Jen glanced around the room: concrete walls with racks of cuffs and rings bolted into them, a few inset bulbs casting a harsh light straight down, the table, the cart... and something else, in the unlit area behind her. Jen peered at it. Was it something else to transport them with? There were definitely restraints on it...

The shape of it suddenly resolved in her vision, and a chill went through her. It was a machine, some kind of torture device like she'd never seen before, obviously designed to hold two girls in place. Dozens of clamps, pads and electrodes dangled from a central trunk, which was crossed a few feet off the ground by a rounded beam on a fulcrum--something like a miniature seesaw with a couple of bumps near the center.

What worried her most, though, were the two rods on pneumatic pistons that jutted up from the floor, each of which just barely poked through a hole drilled in the crossbeam. They were rubber, but with a visible steel core, and even the sheath was covered in protruding studs. She didn't want them anywhere near her, let alone inside her.




Housebound Ch. 05



She had a sinking feeling about that, though.

At last, he finished with Amber and hauled her up over his shoulder. Just as Jen expected, he walked her over to the machine, the lights automatically rising to illuminate it as he approached. Jen could hear Amber's gasp of fear as she got her first glimpse of it.

He lowered her onto one side of the beam, straddling it and facing the trunk, and undid her ankles from the hogtie just long enough to lock them again into cuffs at its base. Amber groaned in anger: she was being forced to stand on her tiptoes just to keep her smooth pussy resting lightly on the beam. It was at just the right height so that if she let herself down at all, the studded dildo would start pushing itself into her cunt.

Jen began to struggle desperately as he turned back to pick her up, but there was no escape. He set her down as well and repeated the uncuffing-recuffing procedure; since Jen was actually an inch or so shorter than Amber, it was even harder to stay up and away from the rod, and the beam between their legs was tilted up to press even more against Amber's pussy.

He undid the cuffs behind her back. Jen couldn't help but moan a little with relief as the twisting pressure on her shoulders was relieved, but he immediately wrapped her arms around behind Amber's back and locked the cuffs again, pulling them within inches of each other. He did the same with Amber's wrists, of course, leaving the two girls in a sort of forced embrace. It even had the effect of pulling their hips closer together, which meant that Jen found the bumps on the beam pressing just above and below her clit.

She couldn't help but wonder how long he'd worked on this thing, and how many times he'd tested it. It was an insidiously perfect design for holding two girls together, but she had a feeling this wasn't the worst of it yet.

"Ladies," he smiled, "meet Gemini."

He began to circle them, taking the dangling electrodes and taping them to the same places on each girl's body: her lower back, the curve of her belly at her hip, above and beneath her left breast, on the fluttering pulse at her throat. "These aren't to shock you," he said, not unkindly, when Jen flinched at the cold touch. "You've had enough of that for a little while... they'll be measuring your responses instead. A girl really isn't much more than a bundle of nerves in a tight little package, you know. This machine is designed to find out exactly what happens when you stimulate the important ones."

He winked at Jen, then gave Amber a playful spank on her taut ass. She barely mmphed in response, but to Jen's left, the wall suddenly lit up with an array of green readouts. They must have been coming from a hidden projector somewhere. She couldn't understand most of them, but others were clear: a pulse rate (both pounding), a timer, and--oh God--graphs labelled "Subject 1 Arousal," "Subject 2 Arousal," "Orgasm Count," and "Punishment Grade"...

He pulled a black marker from one pocket, leaned down a little, and wrote "Subject 1" below Jen's belly button. Amber got "Subject 2." "Forgive me," he murmured as he wrote, "but I do occasionally need a little memory aid."

Finished, he straightened and looked them over with an air of satisfaction. "All right, here's how it works," he said. "If either of you relaxes those nice taut legs, the seesaw will press harder against the other girl's pussy. In addition, the machine will detect the imbalance, raise the whole bar half an inch, and begin to fuck the girl who weakened--quite forcefully, I understand."

Jen could feel the blood draining from her face. No, no, no, she thought to herself, he's going to rape us with these things, but of course he wasn't done yet.

"Because you are sluts, obviously, being fucked will cause you to orgasm. Any time one of you succumbs to that urge, the intensity of the stimulation to the other girl will double--so, if you want to show your friend any mercy at all? Don't come... and don't relax." He winked, then gave Jen a gentle nudge at the back of her knee.

To her horror, that leg collapsed under her, dropping her down onto the studded rubber dildo. Amber squeaked as the beam pressed up hard against her pussy, lifting her off her toes for a moment, but Jen cried out through the gag as the thick rod suddenly penetrated several inches into her tight cunt. Embarrassingly, she was almost glad he'd spent so much time tormenting her on the table--it would have been much worse if she hadn't been so wet.

Jen scrambled to regain her footing and push herself off it, forcing herself back up onto her tiptoes and locking her knees straight--but her situation was quickly deteriorating. As if it had sensed the warmth of her body, the rod followed her up, quickly pushing itself just as deep as before, then deeper. Jen was lifted almost off her toes just like Amber had been, gasping as it seemed to probe the depth of her tight and slippery cunt.

After a few breathless seconds, it withdrew. Jen swallowed as she saw that the graph labelled "Subject 1 Arousal" had suddenly risen.

Across from her, Amber was getting her own turn, eyes clenched shut and biting the gag as her dildo gave her a businesslike, very deep thrust. It finally let her down again, and Jen was somehow a little annoyed that "Subject 1 Arousal" wasn't quite as elevated as hers.

"Don't be jealous," he murmured in Jen's ear, reaching around her to take her pert breasts in his hand and roll his thumbs over her nipples. Jen squirmed a little, but in her position there was nothing she could do to get away; her nipples were erect from the cold air down here, and little shocks ran through them as he tugged at them until they were hard as pebbles. Then he reached forward and took two the clamps dangling on chains from the central pole. Jen could do nothing but bite her gag as he carefully tightened them onto her sensitive nipples. Amber got the same treatment, of course, though she struggled more fiercely with no apparent effect. Somehow, Jen was struck by the look of the silver clips, dangling there below the freckles that faded down Amber's chest to her pale breasts and pink nipples. They looked almost like jewelry.

At last, he checked their bindings and electrodes, then stood back to look them over. "You three have fun together," he laughed, watching them struggle. "I'll be back when the experiment has run its course. Remember... don't come." The heavy steel door clicked shut lightly behind him.

Jen was almost hyperventilating with fear, her skin prickling with goosebumps, but then she felt Amber trying to lift her arms behind her. What was she doing? It wasn't like they could pick the handcuff locks. It only became clear when Amber managed to work her hands up behind Jen's head and fumble for the release of her gag. It popped out, finally, and Jen groaned in relief as it dropped to the floor.

She quickly undid Amber's gag as well, and for a moment the two just worked their aching jaws. Standing there across from each other, nude and still bound to "Gemini," Jen had no idea what to say.

The device provided a topic of conversation when it rumbled to life and began to fuck them in earnest.

"Ohmyfuckingchrist," Jen managed as the dildo plunged inside her, deeper than its first experimental probe--and faster. It alternated its thrusts, so first Jen would be lifted up off her toes by the force of it, then Amber, over and over again. The thick shaft was unforgiving, stimulating every inch of her tight cunt as it fucked her with slick, obscene noises. Jen couldn't stand to look over at the graphs again; despite herself, she knew her body was responding to this forceful assault, and that "Subject 1 Arousal" would be climbing.

"J-Jen," Amber whimpered, and Jen saw that her green eyes were squeezing shut, a flush high in her cheeks as she bit her lip and tried to ignore the machine that was insistently fucking her. "I'm still all worked up from--FUCK--from being on that table, you have to distract me, talk to me or something or I'm gonna..." She inhaled sharply and dug her fingers into Jen's skin.

That actually made things much worse for Jen. Trying quickly to stop thinking about the associations with having nails raked down her back, she stuttered, "Look, it could b-be worse, right?--oh fuck, UNGH." She had to pause as the machine decided to try an especially deep thrust that left her suspended in the air for a second. "--Jesus. I mean, okay, I don't even usually come from penetration, do you?"

"Sometimes," Amber admitted. "But you're right--ngh--if he thinks this is going to lead to some kind of endless cycle of orgasms, he must be pretty clueless about..."

Right on cue, a deep vibration began to shake the seesaw, focused on the little bumps just above and below Jen's clit.

"Fuck," Amber said, a despairing little sound, as the machine suddenly switched from alternation to fucking them at precisely the same time.

It was worse than Jen could have imagined. Each girl was lifted up into the air, gasping as the shaft buried itself painfully deep--and as the clamps on their short chains suddenly pulled sharply on their nipples. Just when she thought this position was unbearable, she was dropped down onto the bar, where her clit would be trapped between her body and the thrumming little nodules. Speech was almost out of the question. The two of them could only let out a rhythmic chorus of squeals and strained moans as they were bounced helplessly up and down, a pair of sweaty ragdolls with their own wetness actually puddling between their feet.

Amber had started digging in her nails again, pulling the Asian girl close, but the sharp sensation only stimulated Jen more. Trying not to think about the way Amber's perky little breasts shook with each thrust, she accidentally glanced over at the chart again. Both "Subject 1 Arousal" and "Subject 2 Arousal" were nearly at the top of the vertical axis, and had shaded from green through yellow to red.

"Please, please, please," Amber was begging in a high-pitched voice, but Jen had no idea whether she wanted the machine to stop or pick up its pace. She was having the same issue herself. The rod could thrust inside her with slippery ease now, and she could swear it had started angling forward to rub against her g-spot with each thrust. Sweat dripped down her spine and between her breasts, clinging to the clamps, sliding around the electrodes on her skin and joining the moisture that had already dripped down the shaft of the dildo.

"Jen," cried Amber, and Jen did the only thing she could think to do: she leaned forward and bit Amber's lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, trying to snap her out of it.

Amber's eyes went wide--but the effect was not what Jen had been hoping for. Instead, Amber pressed into the kiss, her whole face flushed red with frustration, embarrassment and arousal, and Jen felt a strange feeling sweeping up from her back through her belly to her throat. This was nothing like when they'd fucked the night before, out of pure need. Amber's lips were full and soft and wet, so different from any guy she'd ever kissed, and for a moment she was so caught up in it that she was able to ignore the thick rubber cock still rapidly fucking her.

Then a buzzer sounded, and Amber came.

Through the haze of forced arousal and dizzying feelings, Jen could almost swear she felt the other girl's orgasm somewhere deep inside. Amber pulled away from the kiss and arched her body, throwing her curly red hair back and opening her mouth in a soundless scream. Her abs went taut and trembled as the machine automatically slowed and fucked her deeper than ever, forcing her to ride out every last wave; Amber's fingers were digging into Jen's hips even harder than before, but all Jen could do was stare, hypnotized by the sight of the other girl.

Both sides of the machine slowed to a stop, and Amber sagged down, panting helplessly. "I'm s-sorry," she mumbled, unable to look Jen in the eye. Head foggy with lust, Jen couldn't figure out what she meant, for a moment.

She glanced over at the graph on the wall. "Subject 2 Arousal" had dropped back into the yellow, but "Subject 1 Arousal" was still in the red. "Orgasm Count" clicked over from 00 to 01. "Punishment Grade" clicked over from 1/1... to 5/1.

Jen's mouth opened helplessly. "No no no no," she managed.

Then the machine restarted.

Amber let out a surprised squeak as a jet of icy-cold lubricant suddenly sprayed the apex of her legs, making her jerk back up onto her tiptoes, but Jen barely noticed. Her dildo had suddenly increased to triple-time, driving into her aching cunt faster than any human could possibly have done. Her toes no longer even brushed the floor; she was simply bounced up and down like a doll, her whole body weight alternately forcing the slippery cock inside her and forcing her clit against the vibrating rod. The effect was none too kind to Amber, who was now getting her pussy smacked with the beam over and over, but Jen had it far worse.

Don't come, she tried to remember, as she heard herself shrieking with the overwhelming sensation. Don't come don't come don't come come come come--

She held out for almost a full minute before the buzzer went off.

When it happened, it wasn't slow like the usual ones, or a quick burst of relief like when Amber had gone down on her. It was like an explosion, as if her body was simply giving up all control. She thought she was screaming something, far away, but she couldn't make it out; all she could do was hold on for dear life as electricity climbed her spine, and her pussy clenched the thick firmness of the dildo over and over and over. It wouldn't stop, even long after the momentary pleasure had died away and her cunt was simply aching with the strain of the spasms that shook her. She'd never known she could come like this. She really wished she still didn't.

She slowly came to herself to realize that the higher grade of punishment had switched sides again. Amber was crying out helplessly, bouncing on the piston so fast she was a blur in Jen's vision. Dark strands of her hair were clinging to her sweaty face, and the machine had momentarily slowed.

"02," said the orgasm count on the graph.

With a deep and complete resignation, Jen realized that the double digits were there for a reason. Their captor wasn't going to walk in the door in a moment and announce that they could have a break now, or take them back to the little room where they'd curled up and slept together. Neither of them was going to come up with a clever plan to dismantle the machine and turn it against him. Amber was going to come (even if "Subject 2 Arousal" hadn't been spiking into the red, Jen knew instinctively that the green-eyed girl couldn't hold out long), and then Jen was going to come, until they were long past resistance or exhaustion or mindless whimpers. The machine was going to fuck them until they broke, and each of them was going to watch it happen to the other.

Jen could feel the pulse throbbing in her aching pussy. It was almost all she could feel. She closed her eyes and waited for the spray of icy lube to wet her little slut pussy down. 



Housebound Ch. 06



Note: this is a bit of a divergence from the previous chapters, focusing more on Katie's humilation than force and mechanical torment. There's still plenty of bondage, struggle and desperation, though, so I hope you'll stick with me. Next chapter it's back to the usual robo-fuckery. --DT

He made them listen.

Katie spent some time squirming on her kneeling pad, next to Emma, both of them dolled up in their degrading, breast-baring fetish maid outfits; she tried to keep her mind on their next step for escape, but the weird static-charge sensation pulsing from her chastity belt kept distracting her. Before she could come up with anything but stupid ideas, James was climbing the stairs back into the mirrored room with them.

"Much better," he said. "I suppose eventually they'll figure out that if they can both manage to come at the same time, the machine will stop... although, frankly, it may be a while. Jen and Amber aren't the brightest binary star in our little constellation." He winked at them. Katie felt sick. "But in case they surprise me, why don't we have a little audio accompaniment?"

He pulled a small silver remote from his pocket and touched a button. Built-in speakers that seemed to be installed throughout the house came to life, and Katie and Emma were treated to a surround-sound feature of mechanical thrumming, rhythmic slippery penetration, and one of their fellow captives whimpering "please please please--"

"What are you doing to them?" Katie snapped, before she could stop herself.

He raised an eyebrow. "Just a two-for-one fitting, Katie. You're familiar with the process. Does your lack of proper address mean that Emma failed to teach you what I requested?"

"I told her, Sir!" Emma blurted out. Katie rolled her eyes.

"Yes, she told me. You can dress me up and handcuff me, but that doesn't mean you can make me play the part."

"No, it doesn't," he agreed. "But I can try to persuade you. Emma..." He tapped his foot. "Come here and present yourself."

Emma cast an anguished glance at Katie, then crawled off the pad on her hands and knees. She moved over to him and turned around, pressing her face to the floor, but arching her back to put her pert ass high in the air, knees spread apart.

With an ominous zipping sound, he unbuckled and pulled off his belt.

"Clearly, Katie, you're the kind of selfish little slut who doesn't mind a good fuck... and whose memory doesn't retain a corrective shock very long," he said. "But misbehavior always has consequences, even if not for you." He sat down cross-legged next to Emma and pulled her across his lap. The blonde girl was breathing quickly, but her face was hidden in the carpet.

"Don't," said Katie quickly, "stop it, you don't have to punish her. Sir."

"Getting better," he mused, "but mere correction does not suffice in this case." He doubled the belt in his hand and brought it swinging down with a sharp crack, just at the top of Emma's thighs. She let out a quickly-muffled squeak in his lap, but didn't move.

"What do you want?" Katie said angrily. "I'm sorry! Sir, Master, James, whatever you want me to call you!"

CRACK. The belt came down again, a little higher. The straight line from the first blow was already beginning to turn pink. "Think harder, Katie." CRACK. The belt came down a third time, straight across her firm white cheeks. Emma's fingers were digging into the carpet.

"I don't know!" Katie said. In the background, the sound of the machines fucking the other girls had just picked up in tempo, and their surprised squeals echoed through the halls. Katie was still sitting on the charging pad, sending tingles through the cup sealed against her pussy; the sound, the feeling and the sight of Emma being punished were doing... things... to her that she was desperately trying not to think about.

CRACK. He caught her eyes and held them as he worked the belt over Emma's trembling ass, unhurried and unerring. CRACK. "Perhaps," he said, as if daydreaming, "you could offer to make it up to me?" CRACK. "Or to her."

Emma was clearly trying to keep quiet, but she was making little whining sounds that grew louder as he continued to spank her, like a punished puppy. Katie glared at him with intense hatred. "Please," she forced herself to say, "let me do whatever is necessary to correct for the error of my ways, James."

"Hmm." He paused, set the belt down, and began rubbing Emma's bright pink buttocks with his hand, soothing her. "I suppose that will be acceptable. I think I have just the thing. Emma, good girl. Turn over."

The slender ice-blonde girl squirmed in his lap, rolling over to arch her back over his knees, looking up at him with a strange mix of fear, hurt and anticipation in her eyes. He smiled at her and reached down to tug her tiny skirt, exposing the flat black surface of her chastity belt. He set one hand down on it, and Emma inhaled sharply, closing her eyes and biting her lip.

As Katie watched, she arched a little up off his lap, moving her hips against his hand; she couldn't quite hear it above the chorus of pants and squeals still being piped through the speakers, but she was sure he was using some kind of built-in vibrators to stimulate her. With his left hand, he brushed his fingers back and forth across her small, firm breasts, tweaking her nipples like a skilled musician idly tuning an instrument.

Katie could feel a slow heat building under her own chastity belt, but of course she felt only the faint, continuous tease of the charger. She was annoyed to find herself irrationally jealous of the other girl.

"Well?" she said finally (Emma started at the sound, eyes opening, and blushed with embarrassment). "How am I supposed to do... whatever? Sir."

"I would have thought that you'd rather take a moment to watch your friend enjoy her reward than rush off to your next task in this house," he said, eyes glinting, lightly shoving Emma off his lap. "Emma, Katie must be starving. Why don't you make her some breakfast?"

Emma scrambled up, still not looking Katie in the eye, and trotted off down the hall in her stripper heels. James stood, adjusting his erection through his pants without a trace of shame, and came to stand over Katie.

He dangled his belt from one hand, and his pants didn't sag without it, she noticed. He must have had them tailored. She locked eyes with him, not looking at the belt, and the strange combination of defiance and arousal and jealousy swirling inside her made her pulse pound.

"Remember our little chat last night?" he asked. "I wonder if you've figured out who sold you to me."

"I don't believe anyone did," she said. "Sir. I think you're just trying to get under my skin, and you'll have to try harder than that." Her brave face was subverted a bit as her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

"Hungry?" James murmured. "I can help with that."

"If you try to feed me any part of your body," Katie said, "I'll bite it off. Master."

"God, you're fun," he grinned. "No, I promise, I won't be fucking your mouth until you beg for it--and you are going to beg, eventually." Katie's nostrils flared with hatred, but she didn't rise to his bait. "You will be getting protein for breakfast until you earn the use of your hands, though. Come along."

He reached down and clipped the buckle of his belt to one of the rings on her collar, then turned and tugged lightly. It made a very short leash. Katie stumbled to her feet, wishing more than anything that her hands weren't bound behind her, and trotted behind him as he followed Emma.

The sounds of the other girls panting and squealing in the basement continued as they went. Katie thought one of them was about to come.

Down the hall the house opened up into a large, beautifully appointed kitchen; the hope of finding a weapon here surged inside Katie for a moment, until she noticed that all the drawers had discreet little locks on them. Emma had just finished mixing some kind of milkshake and was pouring it into a tall plastic cup.

Katie could smell bacon lingering in the air; she glanced at Emma, who met her eyes and looked a trifle more embarrassed than she was already. So that's how it works, Katie thought: she fucks him, she gets a decent breakfast. I fight back, so I don't. Her stomach tightened at the thought of any kind of food, though, and she didn't make a fuss when James tugged her down onto her knees again in the middle of the stone-flagged floor.

Emma clicked carefully over to her. "Um, are you going to undo her hands, or..." she faltered, staring at James.

"Go ahead," he said. "Katie, you don't mind if Emma feeds you, right?"

"Actually," Katie began, but found the cup being tipped against her lips before she could finish.

It was a cheap protein shake, with a gritty texture and a whiff of fake strawberries, but she drank as fast as she could anyway. She hadn't realized how hungry she'd been. The thought of some kind of drug in the drink flitted across her mind, but she ignored it. What could it possibly do to make her situation any worse?

Emma was careful and attentive. Kneeling in front of her, swallowing as fast as she could, renewed the weirdly erotic feelings that Katie had found in herself a few minutes before. She was crouching here totally helpless and exposed, relying on the other girl for the most basic necessities, the two of them acting out a strange little play under James's watchful gaze...

When the vibrators in Katie's chastity belt clicked on to a slow, gentle buzz, she was almost grateful.

The cup jerked a little against her mouth and Emma's eyes glazed slightly: she wasn't the only one being rewarded for playing her part. Katie wanted instinctively to jerk her hips, wriggle, try to get the invasive toys away from her pussy, but she knew that the damnable little thing wasn't going anywhere.

She wasn't going to admit that she wanted to buck her hips for other reasons too.

The cup was nearly empty; Emma pulled it away and spilled a couple of cold drops. Katie glanced down to see her chest rising and falling, the pink liquid dribbling between her small, pert breasts. She felt James run his fingers up the back of her head, tangling them in her hair, but for some reason she was too distracted to spit any nasty barbs at him.

"Clean her up, Emma," he said softly.

Emma bent her head, and Katie watched straight, pale blonde hair spill over her collarbone as the other girl pressed mouth to skin. The vibrator clicked up another notch. Katie became aware that she was breathing a little quicker than she wanted, with her mouth slightly open.

She also became aware that Emma's lips were very soft.

Then they were pulling away. "That wasn't so bad, was it, Katie?" James murmured in her ear, still holding her head gently but firmly.

"Fuck you," she muttered, because it was the only thing that came to mind.

"That wasn't an answer," he said coldly, and began to push down, one knee pressing on the back of her ankle to keep her legs from moving. Without her hands, Katie could do nothing to push herself back up, and he simply had better leverage than she did. In a moment, though trembling with effort, she found her face being pressed to the cold stone floor.

"Want to try that again?" he said.

"Did I stutter?" she growled, and felt a knee shoved between her legs. The weight of her body was transferred partly from her shins to the cup against her pussy, and the sudden jump in intensity as the vibrators pressed into her made her gasp.

"I enjoy the way you seem to deploy clichés when you can't think of any other retort, Katie," he chuckled. "It lets me know when I'm getting to you." He pulled back on her hair, then down; the pain made her eyes water as he made her arch her back, still pressed down against his knee as he rocked her back and forth. Katie's hands clenched behind her, grasping for his balls, his shirt, something, but the way he had her bent made it useless.

"Maybe that's because you are a cliché, you boring psycho creep," she managed.

"Better!" he said. "But you're a bit trite yourself." He pulled down even harder, grinding her against his knee; the stubby vibrator inside her clicked up to a new speed, and Katie couldn't contain the tiny whine creeping out of her throat. "Spitting fire, squirming, all the while desperately hoping I'll just break you and fuck you like the dripping little slut you are... Or am I mistaken in remembering that you came twenty-one times for me last night?"

Katie caught a glimpse of Emma's frozen face as she stood there, watching, and realized that there was a flash of jealousy in the other girl's eyes. It gave her a dirty little feeling of triumph; how nice not to be the one feeling that for once.

Of course, she had nothing to say in reply to him, and she could feel the twenty-second orgasm building in the depths of her belly.

"Good girl," he breathed in her ear, rocking her helpless, arched body against his knee. "You'd like to come this way, wouldn't you? It would be such a pleasant change from the things that machine did to you... just to clench and squeal in my grip, being watched and held, every eye on your perfect little body..."

Katie wanted to grit her teeth and scream, but she couldn't get her mouth to close. Fuck. Her clit throbbed against the little bead vibrator, tension building in her aching back. She was going to come, she was going to come, she was going to--

He stopped. Of course he did.

Releasing her, he shoved her down onto her face on the floor. Katie could do nothing but lie there for a second, panting, annoyed at the quiescent toys and at herself for letting him get to her that way again. She wasn't about to admit it, but she was completely powerless to resist his control over her cunt.

"Good girls don't get to come until they do their chores," he said lightly, standing and brushing off his knee. "Emma, there's a bucket of cleaning supplies under the sink. Fetch it. There's a reason I picked the maid outfits for today, after all."

He jerked up on Katie's belt-leash, dragging her to her feet, and the three of them descended the stairs to the basement. Katie trembled a bit when she saw the concrete hallway lined with steel doors again; the memory of being locked behind one of them, getting "fitted" by a relentless machine, was still very fresh in her mind.

She barely even thought about the two girls who must be locked behind another one of the doors. She couldn't help them until she figured out a way to help herself.

Katie didn't say a word as he pushed open the heavy door and pulled her inside. The machine was still there, exactly as she remembered it, a hideous contraption of steel, leather and rubber that had held her trembling and desperate until she passed out from sensory overload the night before. The black rubber rod, the freezing nozzle, the electrical contact pad and the huge, conical blue monster dildo still glistened wetly. Her gray panties and pajama top were lying on the floor, and the room smelled distinctly of sex.

Emma was staring at it with a stunned expression; glancing over her shoulder, Katie could see terror, curiousity and something else all flit across her face.

"Now, there's only one of these," said James, taking the bucket and starting to fill it at a hose faucet set low in the wall. "Emma will need it to wash the car she got all sweaty yesterday. That means I'll just have to leave you this, Katie." He squirted some soap from a bottle into the bucket, then plunged a sponge into it, squeezing it until it was lathered with suds. Then he grabbed Katie's belt-leash again and yanked her close.

She recoiled, but he took the cold sponge and shoved it down the front of her costume, so that the top half protruded between her breasts. Cold water dripped down her belly, and she was almost resigned to the fact that her small pink nipples immediately tightened under his gaze.

"I'm not sure you'll be able to get to all the important parts with this thing," he said thoughtfully, "but try."

"You're not going to uncuff my hands?" Katie blurted out, forgetting everything he'd said about "proper address" in her outrage.

"I told you," he chuckled, "you'll need to earn that, and this is the first step. You're smart, Katie. I'm sure you can figure out how to get along without them if you improvise." He ruffled her hair like a child's; Katie could do nothing but tremble with hate.

"I want the device sparkling clean by the time I return. Should you not feel like hurrying, well..." He smiled at Emma. "You can imagine how I'll punish your friend if you disobey me twice, right?"

Emma glanced back, mute pleading in her eyes, as the door clicked shut behind them.

Katie tried to control the panic that rose in her throat as she was locked in the room once again. She was okay. She could do this. She wasn't bound to the machine, she could still move, she just had to perform one demeaning chore and then he'd back off a little, let them breathe. And that was when they could start planning their escape.

Right?

She forced herself to totter over to the device, still in the humiliating stripper-shoes, and get down on her knees on the cold concrete. She took a deep breath, and then leaned forward, pressing the conical blue thing between her breasts and slowly rubbing the sponge up and down it.

Not for the first time, Katie found herself wishing she were a little better-endowed. Her little b-cups were nice when she was out running around on the soccer field or deciding to go out without a bra, but now, as she hunched her shoulders forward and tried to keep the sponge trapped between them, she could have used a decent rack.

Of course she hadn't expected to be titty-fucking a torture device the last time she skipped past a "mammary enhancement" ad in a magazine.

Laboriously, Katie rubbed the sponge over as much of the surface as she could, though it was tough to get behind the thing, in among the struts and servos. Up close to it for the first time, she could see some of the intricate construction inside it, and she wondered if James had built it himself. If he had, he was a master machinist--not only did it seem incredibly complicated, but durable. She would have loved to smash the thing to bits, but without a sledgehammer, she didn't think she could even dent it.

She managed to get the blue rubber clean, but her sponge was getting dry. Improvise, he'd said. Reluctantly, Katie squirmed over the icy spray-nozzle below the machine and contorted herself until she could press a switch at its base with her toe.

It was even colder than she'd remembered. Katie let out an involuntary gasp as below-freezing water misted her sensitive breasts; her nipples were painfully hard, and her whole body clenched at the sensation. But at least the sponge was wet.

Arching her back and bringing her belted crotch perilously close to the dildo she'd just cleaned, Katie worked the suds over the hateful electric contact pad that had shocked so many climaxes from her last night, then awkwardly twisted herself to wipe it clean with the side of her thin polyester uniform. A fine sheen of sweat was cooling on her skin from her exertions, but now she had a different problem: the black rubber cock and tongue-like vibrator were down among the lower part of the machine, and there was no way she could fit her whole torso down in there.

Gingerly, Katie tried to bend down and pluck the sponge from between her breasts with her mouth--maybe she could somehow get it behind her and use her hands--but all the rubbing had made it work down farther into the neckline of the uniform, and as she moved, it dropped down out of reach and came to rest against her belly button.

Fuck.

With an awful resignation, Katie realized there was only one way she could possibly clean the two remaining tools. He'd probably planned this all along, the bastard. But she wasn't about to let him get the pleasure of punishing Emma and blaming her for it. She wouldn't give him a single inch.




Housebound Ch. 06



Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Katie leaned down and covered the stubby tool with her mouth.

She could still taste herself on it, a strange tang she'd never expected to have on her own tongue. She'd thought she might gag, and she did want to a bit, but it wasn't nearly as bad as she'd feared. Slowly, she made herself push her wet pink lips over the full length of the dildo; it hadn't seemed all that long last night, but it was long enough, and so wide that her jaw ached as she stretched it wide.

Whimpering with the effort, Katie moved around the device, breathing hard through her nose and working her tongue over the black rubber. She kept finding new surfaces, trickles of lube and her own wetness, and every time she started to pull away from it she had to push herself down to the base again. She closed her eyes and tried to think of it as eating a sausage, or having dental work done, or something. But there was no way to keep her mind off what she was doing: thoroughly, laboriously sucking a machine's cock.

At last, she thought it was clean. She straightened, wincing at the ache in her back from having bent over for so long, and then got down on her knees to do the same thing to the weird, blunt tongue-vibe.

She put her mouth against it, and it slid its tongue against hers.

Katie jerked back, startled. She hadn't expected that. Maybe this one was activated by pressure? Cautiously, she bumped her elbow against it, and the rough wet surface hummed and moved again.

A thought crept into Katie's head.

She'd been here for over twenty-four hours by now, and despite a great deal of stimulation, frustration and all those forced electrical orgasms, she still hadn't really had a moment of genuine relief. She'd been teased all morning, too, first by the charging pad, then by the vibrators when he'd made her ride his knee in the kitchen.

His whole goal was to own their bodies, to drive them crazy with his ability to control their arousal. If she could take back some of that control... it would be like striking a blow against him.

Another thought crept in, this one something about rationalizing, but Katie ignored it.

She moved over to straddle the machine, leaning her chest against what had been her backrest, and put her knees against the tops of the ankle cuffs. It wasn't the easiest posture to maintain, but it did let her position the toy against the top of her just-exposed clit, above the bead vibrator attached to her chastity belt.

She pressed down, and was rewarded with the wet movement of the tongue against her most sensitive spot.

Heat was rising inside her, a pink flush in her cheeks and chest and something deeper growing in her abdomen. Katie took a long, shivering breath and pressed harder. It responded by beginning to pulse with vibration. Damn, this thing felt good, better than any ordinary toy she'd ever used. No wonder it had gotten her so hot so fast the night before.

Rocking her hips a little, she began to work her clit in little circles around its moist tip. Her back flexed and arched, and her thighs were clenched as she continued to squirm against it. Katie closed her eyes and bit her lip, her small tight body glistening under the harsh light in the basement room, strands of her dark hair sticking to her forehead. She quickly discovered that if she slowly ground down and rocked her hips backward, she could get the the tool to slide up and tug at her clit like a real tongue--but one that buzzed and stuttered as it went. Pleasure surged up her spine; the glossy black cup was tight against her warm, swollen pussy.

This isn't going to take long at all, she thought fuzzily, especially now that the little chastity-belt vibe is on--

Oh shit.

She jerked upright, trying to spin around, but James had her by the hair again and forced her down. "Don't let me interrupt the show," he said, putting one foot on her handcuffs and slowly pushing down. Katie grunted as she was forced down to her knees, farther than she wanted to go: the still-buzzing tongue now had her clit trapped tight against the top edge of her chastity belt, and it pinched painfully even as her orgasm continued to build.

"Don't hurt her. Sir. Please," Katie managed, panting, casting one eye back over her shoulder. Emma was kneeling there silently, looking hopeless, her costume soaking wet and with suds still clinging to it. Katie was sure washing the car hadn't been any more straightforward than cleaning the machine had been for her.

"Touching," he said, still holding her in place, and brought the doubled leather belt smacking down against her clenching ass. Katie yelped involuntarily and jerked upward--that thing HURT!--before he dragged her back down against the tongue-tip, not letting her up for a second. Her whole body arched as she ground her teeth and struggled, helpless against his sheer weight.

"And I do appreciate your dedication to this task," he continued. "I particularly enjoyed your decision to suck the device clean--although when I said to improvise, I was thinking you'd just wet your old clothes under the faucet." There was a distinct amusement in his voice, and Katie turned deep red as she realized that her gray cami top was still sitting on the floor behind her, a perfectly serviceable cleaning cloth. "So I'll consider sparing Emma this time... but Katie, dear Katie, you couldn't even finish one little chore without masturbating?"

He brought down the belt with a SMACK on her other cheek, and it was only with incredible effort that she kept herself from squealing again. "You d-don't control me!"

"Really?" he said. "Come."

Katie did.

The slick rough pressure of the toy was just too much against her long-denied clit, and combined with a sudden burst of intense vibration from the rod buried inside her, she couldn't stop herself. Katie writhed, toes curling against the slutty shoes, mouth open as ecstasy clenched and exploded over and over again deep inside her. The pain in her scalp and the ache of her contortion vanished as every muscle in her body tightened with sheer pleasure, all at the same time--

Nothing she'd ever felt could compare to that moment, bound and forced, dripping with sweat, kneeling on the concrete floor in her slutty joke of a costume. She didn't even realize she was screaming until she had to stop to breathe.

James pulled her backwards, and her trembling legs gave out. Katie collapsed onto her side on the cold floor, still trembling and gasping for air. She was involuntarily squirming, her body wringing every last drop of pleasure from the release, but other than that she could barely move.

He crouched down next to her, brushed two fingers over her pink cheek, and then moved them down to gently push just into her mouth. Without thinking about it--without wanting to think about it--Katie pulled them a little deeper and sucked.

As she did so, she came again.

It was just a little one, completely unexpected, since even the chastity-belt vibe had shut off. It was nothing like what had come before it, definitely a separate event. Katie whimpered slightly as it moved through her, a shudder taking her by the shoulders as she helplessly rode out another surge from her aching cunt.

"Feel that?" he murmured. "What I've done so far has been testing your defenses, Katie, and we just found the first crack. This is where the real training starts. You're going to learn to learn to control your orgasms for me, because I'm going to teach you, like it or not." He pulled his fingers from her mouth and pressed them lightly against her lips, in the converse of a kiss.

"What do I get," she said, between breaths, "if I learn?"

The question seemed to take him aback. "That's an interesting question, Katie. As much as I'm enjoying your little shows of resistance, it might be fun to see if you can obey again in exchange for some token concession." He grinned. "What do you want?"

She locked eyes with him, still half-curled on the floor, and there was something strange in that: a weird sort of power, as if she were challenging him with her submission, challenging herself even more. "You said someone sold me out," she said. "I pass your little training course, and you tell me who."

His gaze was thoughtful. "I just might, Katie. If I decide you've earned an A."



Housebound Ch. 07



Most of the time, James seemed to like to describe his little inventions, taunting her as he prepared whatever new diabolical thing he had prepared, but not now. He'd just stripped her out of the fetish maid outfit, disengaged her chastity belt (she'd gasped as its stubby dildo popped out of her, followed by an embarrassing dribble of her own wetness), and dragged her through the last steel door in the basement hallway.

The fitting machine had been frightening--and, she had to admit, erotic--because of its simple, sinister simplicity. Restraints, a vibrator, a big damn dildo. It was built for one specific purpose.

This machine, by contrast, took up the whole room. It looked like it had many, many purposes. And none of them were nice.

The upper part of it looked like the root ball of a tree, anchored in the ceiling; from it sprouted an array of slender, gleaming, articulated steel arms, every one tipped with a different tool. There were dozens of them--maybe a hundred--and Katie had glimpsed vibrators, clamps, electrodes, prods, cuffs, edges and needles (oh shit), nozzles, specula, even some rigged up with floggers and mechanical hands. And those were just the things she recognized. Some were too complicated to figure out at a glance; others were just... exotic.

Her heart pounded. Katie told herself it was fear.

Beneath that was a squat pillar, a couple of feet high, topped with what looked a bit like a giant hand: a central flat area and six thick "fingers" projecting from around it. It was covered in black leather, but the clear shape of the corners underneath it made it clear that the device was otherwise unpadded. That was where he was pulling her--and though she squirmed a bit, already uncertain about her decision, she didn't exactly resist.

When he lifted her onto it and set her on her back, the six dividers fit between her head and shoulders, shifted inward to pin her sides, and--of course--pressed against her inner thighs, keeping her legs wide apart. With calm efficiency, James pulled thick nylon webs from recessed pockets and began strapping her in: one wide strap across her ribs to hold her down, doubling her legs and securing them ankle to thigh, then doing the same with her arms, wrists to shoulders.

She tested the bonds, already knowing what she would find: she could squirm a little, shift, twist, but she could go approximately nowhere. The straps were a little lower than her body, and as he tightened them, she found herself being forced to arch upward, a sacrifice on a strange altar.

Katie really was amazed at how he managed to make each new bondage position more intimate and humiliating. To complete the effect, he pulled down one of the steel arms, which ended in a little LCD monitor. Katie found herself staring at a magnified video feed of her own bare, puffy, still-glistening pussy. She'd shaved down to that little strip of fuzz only the day before yesterday, but it seemed like a very long time ago...

"I think I had to do this in Women's Studies," she grumbled, squirming uncomfortably.

"I would have liked to audit that class," James smirked as he stuck a few electrodes into place on her lower back, inner thigh and flank. "Especially the part where they told you the female orgasm is magical and special, controlled by so many subtle and sensitive things, so different from the male version... right? Except you learned last night that they were wrong. Your orgasms are a response to stimulus, and that response is very, very reliable."

Katie blushed, and then felt ridiculous for doing so while being bound and completely exposed. "And I think you should have learned by now that you can't just try to control me with... o-orgasms." She made herself say it, trying to take the power of the word away from him, but then her voice wobbled and ruined it.

"That hypothesis needs more evidence," he said. "But I know controlling your orgasms will have very little to do with your conscious mind. Stimulus, response. Like this."

He reached up and tapped a little button concealed in the workings of the machine. Somewhere, a speaker played a recording of his own voice saying one strange word: "Hadi."

Katie pursed her lips. "Oh yes, yes yes," she said. "I just came so hard. Oh baby. Ungh."

"Christ, I like you," he laughed, running his hand casually up her slit and then spreading her labia apart. His other hand followed, and Katie saw him holding a long, thin silver chain--with a wide, flat clamp at each end. She tried to flinch away, but the straps held her so tight that all she could do was grunt and strain her legs. Calmly, unerringly, James took her outer lip and snapped the first clamp onto it.

Being spanked and shocked hadn't prepared Katie for that. She caught her breath, eyes watering, using every bit of her willpower not to squeal like a punished child. James grinned and tugged on it a couple times, making sure it was secure, then ran the chain down under her back and around to the inside of her thigh again.

The snap of the second clamp wasn't any better.

Blinking away tears, she found herself looking at the little monitor again: she'd never seen her own pussy this way, spread wide by the taut chain, glistening with pink wetness in the dim light. It was... lewd, somehow, a bizarre thought in the middle of a mechanical bondage torture chamber. But there it was. She'd never felt so completely exposed.

"Don't worry," he said, "I won't make you look at it forever," and pulled out the mask.

"James," she started. "Um. Sir, if I have to call you that. I don't--I mean--I think this wammmMMMFF!"

She jerked and tried to turn her head, but he secured it around her quickly enough anyway. It was a strange mask, wrapping around her face to the back of her head but leaving her hair to spill out free: like a thick rubber band, almost, but made of some tightly woven stretch fabric that didn't seem to let condensation build up underneath it. It was more than dense enough to blindfold her, though, and when she tried to gasp she found that it had a thin latex-like pouch situated just above her mouth. With humiliation, she realized it was a built-in condom.

That meant she was only going to be breathing through the two little nose holes. As she felt a pair of headphones sealed against her ears, cutting off every sense but touch, Katie felt her pulse accelerate uncontrollably. She'd thought she could take it. She'd thought she could challenge him. But she hadn't known he had this waiting for her...

She was trussed up like a captive animal, naked, clamped and spread. She was blind, deaf and speechless, being cradled by a baroque machine with what she suspected was a frightening capacity for controlling her body. Katie trembled. Any sense of inner strength she'd had, any semblance of control, he had stripped away from her in just minutes, and the machine hadn't even started yet. She had no self-possession. She was possessed.

She felt her body jerk when he brushed the back of his hand against her flank. She couldn't hear him, but she knew he'd be chuckling at her reaction. He moved his touch lower, tracing the curve of her belly as it rose and fell, brushing his thumb over the dip of her belly button; Katie felt goosebumps rise on her skin. For all his force and cruelty, all the times he'd held her down or punished her, there was a gentleness to this touch that she hadn't expected.

His finger tapped once against her clit, and then his hand was gone.

Katie waited expectantly, but nothing else happened. She counted ten breaths, sixty, another sixty. With her ears and eyes covered, she had no idea if he was still in the room. But when the machine suddenly began to move, with the whir and hum of motors activating in its base, she knew.

It captured her left breast first, with something that felt like a rubber mouth, cool and firm and slippery with contact gel. She could feel it seal onto her and give a couple of experimental tugs, then a firm thumping pressure as it began to rhythmically suck most of her little breast into itself, release, and pump again. Under normal circumstances, she didn't think it would have done much for her. As it was--she realized with an uncomfortable prickle of awareness--her time being used by (and using) the fitting machine had... changed her somehow. There was something about its unvarying pace, its sheer mundane functionality, that her body responded to instantly. Each tug at her skin sent an aching tingle through her, and that was even before its companion on her right side came into play.

It was completely different--a hard, flat metal surface and a blunt prong that unerringly captured her nipple between them. Trying to think of what she'd seen before she was hooded, Katie remembered with a jerk of horror that there had definitely been knives on the ends of some of those arms. He wouldn't possibly--would he? The cold steel began to tug and twist slightly, tweaking her nipple against its cold edge, while a third piece descended to orbit them, like a sharp wheel that circled and circled her areola. The rubber mouth had made her want to struggle and pull away; this one made her want to freeze very, very still.

She could just barely hear the noise of the machine through her headphones, echoing in the room, and then there was the hiss of an audio stream cutting in and she lost even that. It sounded like a machine too, but a different one, hissing and clanking like some kind of pneumatic pump. There were jingling clinks that sounded like chains, and an echo that she recognized all too well from these basement rooms. Playing over it, helpless and desperate, were the cries of two young women.

Jen and Amber. Oh shit, it had to be--he was playing the audio feed from their torture room, forcing her to be a voyeur as he subjected them to whatever horrible device he'd dreamed up in there. She hated this, wanted desperately to shake the headphones off, but her mind raced ahead in an attempt to imagine what they could possibly be undergoing. Clanking metal, the slap of wet flesh over and over, vibrators buzzing, and the slick fucking sound of two dripping cunts being put to hard use.

Every once in a while one of them would try to say something--"no no no no no no no," gasped one, and "fuck I'm sorry I can't" squealed the other--and then a buzzer would sound. The noise would redouble, and one girl or the other would positively scream. Orgasm? Katie wondered, deep in her shivering mind. Surely not. But James had certainly made her come that fast, when he wanted to, and he'd definitely seen fit to couple it with pain...

She squirmed against the straps, despite the pulse-racing danger of the sharp tool orbiting her breast. The places he'd stroked her before he left still tingled, somehow, the memory of his touch so different than the machines mindlessly working on her body. She couldn't help but imagine what he'd done to Emma, alone with her that first night, to bend her so completely to his will. Even on the fitting machine, Katie hadn't broken--not quite. But when he focused his attention on her, she had to admit, the world had shifted underneath her feet.

An involuntary flutter in the muscles of her lower back made her shiver. Was that the electrodes stimulating her? Or were they just for monitoring her responses? The twitching could very well be her own nerves, figuratively or literally. She was certain this was just the warmup stage for this baroque machine, and she could imagine all too well what it would do to her once it got going.

Letting herself imagine it was a mistake. It could stretch her, couldn't it, pull her taut and snap a row of clamps off her sensitive skin like she'd seen in that kinky video once? It could turn her head-down and jackhammer her, or flip her back over and bounce her on a fat rubber cock just like last night's machine had done. It could close her nostrils and make her suck helplessly for air. It could fuck her mouth with the same dildo it used on her cunt, and work a whole chain of beads into her convulsing ass while it did so. It could stimulate her in a thousand places and hurt her in twice as many, and she knew by now that these machines could detect when she got too close to coming, and respond in even more horrible ways.

It wasn't just her lower back shaking now, it was her thighs, her body overloading with a combination of too many emotions to separate and name. Fear was in there, and growing fast, and so were anger and panic, but there was no way to pretend arousal wasn't too. There was a weird sense of being... filled, lifted, like the lower part of her torso was floating at the top of a saltwater tank. The places where he'd touched her were sensitive to even the brush of still air in this room, and it felt like her nerves had all gathered at one point, and just the slightest pressure would hit them all at once and--

With a shock, Katie realized that she was teetering on the edge.

Fuck. No. He couldn't. Not even James, with his fucking evil machines and his creepy girl-control jujitsu, could make her come without even touching her clit. That was impossible. There was no way that just having her nipples stimulated, even combined with this awful form of eavesdropping, could actually get her off! Get her wet, maybe, and make her throb with need, make her clench involuntarily...

Katie had the disquieting thought that even if she were right, and he couldn't make her come like this, forcing her to edge without so much as a breath on her pussy could be an even more effective form of training.

The pincers on her right nipple squeezed extra hard, accompanying it with a tiny electric shock, and Katie almost sucked the latex of her mask into her mouth just to have something to bite down on. Fuck. She could feel herself dripping. She kept rushing closer to climax and then pulling away, her legs trembling in the tight straps as she jerked her hips against nothing. She whimpered. Pain and pleasure on her tight nipples had become almost indistinguishable. She couldn't even remember whether she was supposed to be holding back or not, but it didn't seem to matter--the machine had her balanced perfectly at the peak of her arousal, and it showed no interest in letting her down either side.

Then a thin, flexible switch snapped directly across her clit like a line of fire, and before she could even squeal into the rubber, his voice in her ear whispered "hadi."

It ripped an orgasm from her, making her twist and strain at the straps until her muscles cramped and she tried desperately to get enough breath. It wasn't a deep orgasm like the one he'd triggered in the other room, or a forced one like those from the electrical contact pad--this was definitely her own body responding to the machine, a sharp wash of pleasure from her cunt as it clenched on nothing. When it released her she collapsed back against the pedestal, muscles weak, feeling sweat gather at her lower back.

It gave her about three seconds to recover.

Cold metal curves worked their way between her lips, then deeper, and she gasped as they suddenly ratcheted apart. A speculum. What a stupid male way to think of her body--as a hole to be clinically spread apart and plugged again with whatever damn object he had lying around. Katie was disgusted by it. Unfortunately, in the afterwash of her painful climax, the thought of herself being strapped down and turned into an object that way was also a humiliating turn-on.

Even through the headphones she could hear the clanking hiss of a valve opening, and then she jerked up again despite her exhaustion, squealing into the rubber as a jet of his trademark icy-cold lube sprayed hard against her wide-open pussy. Not that she needed it--and damn him, James knew fucking well she wouldn't--but even as the cruelly cold liquid finally dribbled to a stop, she was scared of what could possibly be coming next.

It was steel, rigid steel, and it felt as if it had a ninety-degree bend in it as it pushed its way inside her: a thin, flat L-shaped bracket with a knob at the tip. She gritted her teeth despite the lube. This thing was not designed for her comfort. Each movement was distinct and mechanical, like a series of gears slotting it into place in her cunt. Katie helplessly tried to shift to ease the discomfort, tilting her hips as much as she could, but it followed her movement, pressing upward hard until she couldn't arch any farther. Then it switched on.

It was a vibrator, a powerful one, but this one still wasn't touching her clit. It wasn't even designed to fuck her--too thin, maybe a centimeter in diameter. What it did, the only thing it did, was shove that buzzing knob up into her g-spot.

His goddamn fitting machine again. It knew exactly where to press, relentless and much, much too powerful, driving against her still-sensitive flesh from inside in a way that absolutely should not have turned her on. It was like being fucked by the hammer on a fire alarm bell. Katie's back ached, and the muscles of her abdomen were taut and trembling as she tried to keep it from jamming even harder against her. It was not gentle.

The speculum contracted, and with a shivering sound of metal on metal, it began to slide back out of her--leaving the metal tool inside her. The lube didn't help one fucking bit. Her pussy was shaping itself around the bar, still feeling stretched but in a different way now--if anything, it was even less comfortable, as the vibrations that kept the knob going also caused its edges to rub against her walls.

It was like nothing she'd ever felt before, and not in a good way. Katie felt herself clench in panic, which only made things worse. She wanted it out of her like she'd never wanted anything. She absolutely hated it. She was also well on her way to another orgasm.

How could that possibly be happening? It was one thing to have been edged all night and then has the electrical toys force her to come--that was just convulsion, a muscle reaction and pure physics. This was different. This was her body under stimulus, direct and focused, reacting as if she were having the best sex of her young life. She wasn't. This was nothing like sex, even if there had been someone else in the room: there was no communion, no fulfillment, no connection...

Was there?

In her headphones, the girls groaned together, as if all the forced pleasure-pain had driven them somewhere past conscious thought. They were just bodies, squirming wet stretched warm clenching bodies, existing under the absolute dominion of the machines that drove them on. Like her.

Katie shook her head, whimpering, as the now-sporadically-chattering tool stimulated her and stopped and stimulated her and stopped and stimulated her and stimulated her and stopped. If not for the pieces still cruelly pinching and pumping her breasts, her entire world would have been reduced to the rod wedged into her body. It wasn't playing with her--playing implied a sense of attention, of fun. This was a machine that forced her nerves to activate in one place, and if that scraped her mind back and forth over the edge of her raw desperation, it had no capacity to care.

"Hadi," James said coolly in her ears, and just as she began to buck and squeal in the first throes of climax, he said it again.

She came twice, one on top of the other, the waves slightly out of phase with each other as her body struggled to obey the near-simultaneous commands. From a hazy distance, Katie could tell when the waves met and interfered, giving her a moment of odd flatness in the middle of her screaming orgasm, and then again when they met and redoubled, sending pleasure shooting through her back and thighs so intensely that halogen lights flickered in her skull.

She couldn't breathe fast enough. Her muscles were shaking where they weren't cramped and immobile, and she knew she was high on this, her consciousness altered by the chemicals the machine had brought out of her own body. The first proof was when the two tools popped off of her nipples and she felt a leather flap smack her breast hard to one side.




Housebound Ch. 07



Normally that kind of pain didn't do anything for her. It just didn't. This time it made her hallucinate.

It was just a brief flash, a sudden intense vision of herself from outside, arched and masked with her limbs doubled and strapped tight together: almost dehumanized, a sweaty slick helpless girlbody, gasping into a wet rubber bag as the crooked steel implement jammed up into her cunt. Then she was back in her body, with the sting and the flush of heat from her breast just starting to radiate from the slap. She got one bewildered breath as she jerked uselessly, still caught in place by the unbearable stimulator, and then the strap cracked against her breast again.

This time she got an image of what her pussy would look like on that video monitor from before: considerably more wet and puffy, swollen and pink-red, tight but trying to shape itself around the invasive metal bar. It was a thought that would have made her twist her face in disgust the week before. At this moment, overstimulated and throbbing with pain and at the edge of panic, it was somehow the most insanely erotic thing she could imagine.

In the brief moments she had, between the next twelve slaps on her increasingly bright red breast, Katie realized that James wasn't just training her to come. He was disassembling her and building her back up again. He'd found the cracks in her will and her imagination; as brutal as his methods were, they were also sophisticated, targeted just to leverage those flaws and pry until she popped open like a clamshell. And as she slowly, inevitably came apart, he was changing the fundamental way her mind worked, forcing her brain to mold itself around his cruelty and control the same way her cunt was stretched around the stimulator.

He was right. It didn't matter what she wanted. It didn't even matter if she had agreed to his training program, if she'd chosen and tried to do exactly as he said. Her conscious mind had no say in this. She was a soft piece of flesh between hard tools, and when he was done she'd be shaped exactly the way he chose.

Almost disinterestedly, the machine pressed a bulbous round vibrator against her clit, slightly off-center. It was a powerful one, a Hitachi or something. Between the metal inside her and its head on the outside, it trapped the most sensitive places on her body and squeezed hard.

Oh no. She couldn't. Not this fast again, not this way, not from this mechanistic unthinking stupid simple--

"Hadi."

It hurt to come. Katie screamed into her mask, every muscle locked as the orgasm marched inch by inch up her spine to her constricting throat, dimly conscious that the leather strap was now cracking against her other breast once a second. The pain was just a dim pulse under the climax that had gripped her and seemed to be refusing to let go--not even a series of waves, but one long sustained contraction that went on and on. She couldn't take any more. She wanted more. She couldn't.

It kept going.

Katie didn't breathe. She had nothing left to breathe with. Her body wasn't obeying her. She couldn't. She couldn't. In an almost detached way, she began to count the strikes of the leather strap on her bouncing little breast, just to know how long this was taking.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

She had no idea how long it would have gone on if not for the water.

The steel suddenly yanked back out of her, the electrodes released, the column supporting her just--disappeared, and then she was plunging down into a tank as cold as ice. It shocked adrenaline into her, and she panicked, struggling, but her legs and arms were still bound tight together. Water rushed into her nose and she choked, starved for oxygen, and oh fuck the orgasm was still going, the lack of air somehow making it surge again--no, no, she couldn't take another sustained one like that, she'd drown first, she'd freeze, she'd die--

Then her limbs went taut and she was yanked up out of it, a gush of water surging up above her as the machine hauled her out of the tank. Katie coughed up water from her nose, heaving for air, and then she felt a hand grip her hair and another pull the suffocating mask off her head.

She looked up at James, a blurry dark shape against the harsh lights, unable to speak, barely able to think, everything in her body screaming with exhaustion and pain and the echoes of impossible pleasure. She sobbed for breath. She had no barbs left, no sarcasm, not even anger, not even hate. Those were luxuries he'd stripped from her.

Slowly, certainly, he pushed two fingers into her mouth. Still gasping raggedly, she felt herself lowering her jaw to hold them. She accepted. That was what her body was for. That was all she could think of. They locked eyes, hers dilated and almost senseless, his calculating, attentive, watchful. With his other hand, he took the chain connecting the almost-forgotten clamps on her labia.

He yanked them off. It hurt in ways she'd barely dreamed of.

Katie's helpless, dripping form twitched, but her mouth stayed open, holding his fingers between her lips. Only a little helpless "nggk" made its way out.

"Hadi," said James quietly.

Katie's body came.

"Hadi," he whispered again.

Katie's body came.

"Hadi."

Katie's body came.

She lost track of how many times he did it. Her eyes slowly closed, and her lips came together, beginning to suck at his fingers in a reflex buried so deep she could barely understand it. There was no resistance in her. She felt the overwhelming exhaustion and pain in every part of her, but they didn't matter. She had a job to do and her body knew how to do it. She came. She came. She came.

After a while he stopped and sat there on the floor, pulling her still-bound body into his lap, letting the water from her sopping hair pool beneath her as she moved her lips and tongue against the pads of his fingers. His other hand cupped her pussy and moved slowly in time with her mouth, not quite hard enough to inflict pain on the sore flesh there, but keeping the nerves from relaxing yet.

Katie came back to herself, at length. She knew where she was and what she was doing. She was hurting. She was sickened and shaken at the memory of the things he'd put her through--was still putting her through. She could have stopped submissively servicing his hand, or slowly working her hips against him. She didn't.

With patience, he worked her at both ends, letting the pain ease its way out and hover just at the edge of his touch. A push of his fingers against her tongue, a matching push against the hood of her clit. Little circles. Slow strokes. Her body responded, somehow discovering the ability to feel pleasure at his touch despite the machine's punishment.

He was giving her a little more pressure, a little more speed, somehow reading her perfectly to know when either would be too much. He wet his fingers again just inside her slippery folds and drew them back up: light tension, a little tug against her, teaching her how to move her tired lower body and find the sweet spot between hurt and comfort.

"Do you remember how to get to the edge?" he murmured, and her body knew, and she was there.

James held her there, cradling her body and balancing her mind, finding a perfect tempo like a metronome to brush--brush--brush the lightest possible touch on her clit. When he'd forced her to edge before it had been a way of frustrating her, an avenue for his cruelty. This was different. This, her body was gradually beginning to understand, was home.

She was supposed to be flushed. She was supposed to be wet and puffy, feeling her own pulse beat between her legs. She was supposed to want release and not get it. This was what Katies were for.

He drew his hand away and she stayed there, breathing shallowly, caught in a long moment of perfect, deep, satisfying need.

"It hasn't quite set yet," said James, at a distance. "In a little while you'll forget this, and revert, and go away from me again. But I'll bring you back here. Rest assured, Katie. I'll bring you back here to stay."

Yes, Sir, said Katie soundlessly, her lips forming words with no breath behind them.

Then he stood, lifting her, and the spell was broken. She thrashed in his grip and screamed, hating him, hating what he'd done to her, hating everything she'd felt and all the terrible sucking desire to feel it again, hating his resigned little laugh at her useless struggle. He gripped her body by the straps on her arms and legs and lifted her up on his shoulders. Like a yoke, he bore her out of the room with the machine and up the stairs, and her used-up body could do nothing about it but writhe.

There was a short hallway off the main floor, with the kitchen and the living room. At the end of the hallway was a half-sized door. Behind the door was a barely-human-sized cage. On the cage door was a padlock. Katie did everything, absolutely everything, in her power to stay out of the cage. James popped her into it and handily, as if he were packing a suitcase.

"This is where you'll live for the duration of the program," he said, reaching through the bars to undo and loosen the straps on her limbs at last--not that she could go anywhere, or even move them much, cramped and tingling. "Today was your first class. The number of classes, I'm afraid, is indefinite. While you are enrolled in the class, you are not a woman, you are not a student, you are not even a girl. You are an object lesson. You will have absolutely no control over your progress or lack thereof. Or anything else."

He pulled out a low, flat dish filled with something that looked like cream of wheat. "You expended a lot of calories today. Your body will need to replenish them. You're going to eat this, and you're going to hate it, and then you're going to finish it and have a drink of water from another animal bowl. Then I'm going to edge you again, close this door, and lock you in. And tomorrow we'll begin again."

As he pushed her face down into the bland, lukewarm, disgusting food, and as Katie tried to hold her breath until the inevitable moment when he forced her to start swallowing, all she could think was that the second class couldn't possible be any worse.

She already kind of knew she was wrong.