Monica's Travels 18

by Richard Alexander (Gromets Plaza)

(story continues from Monica's Travels 17)

Chapter Eighteen – Medical Specimens  – Monica’s Story

When I say that night was one of the most depressing I have spent, I suppose it had stiff competition on what was turning out to be one long nightmare.  Our idyllic round the world trip had gone down the toilet in a big way.  We had been separated and sold into slavery, it seemed.  Not knowing what had happened to the others was as bad as anything physical I was experiencing – well, nearly.

Emma and I spent the night bound to the frame in the smaller room.  Marilyn took delight in showing some selected members of her audience how the black box that went with the Ultimators could be programmed for random switching. I had been returned to the frame, stripped of my dress, bracelets and the leg noose, then bound facing the frame, with my arms outstretched along the top rail which had been lowered to shoulder level.  My feet remained in the high heels and my ankles were stretched apart and tied to the two posts.  It was perhaps not the worst bondage I had endured, but the thought of being there for the night was not a happy one. 

This time my captors had used duct tape on my arms, at several points from wrist to shoulder securing my arms along the length of the upper bar. 

“I’m surprised at you, Monica,” Marilyn had said when we were alone. “Did you really think I was so unprofessional as to tie a bow where you could reach it?”  She tut-tutted as she wound more tape around my arms.  “The whole thing was stage managed, and you played your part well.  It’s just unfortunate that because you opted to try to escape, you have to be punished.  And of course Emma will suffer as well, along with you, because quite simply, that’s the way it is.”

This announcement was followed by Emma’s reappearance, now minus the straight jacket and harness gag, but still wearing the ridiculously high heeled thigh boots.  She still looked most desirable, even after what she had been through, and from the sad mmning noise she was making, I gathered that her lips had received the ‘Skin-Tite’ treatment as had my own.  It seemed that not only were we going to have an uncomfortable night, but we were going to be hungry and thirsty as well.

Emma was bound to the other side of the frame, her eyes looking sadly into mine as more tape was used to secure her arms to the bar, while enveloping mine with further turns in the process.  Emma’s legs were spread, and her ankles tied off to the poles, then Emma’s own Ultimator was inserted and jammed all the way in with the crotch belt pulled tight.  She had her eyes closed while this was happening, and I could feel her breathing become shallow and quick as the big prongs were thrust inside her by Kris, who obviously enjoyed her work.  Emma made a long sighing exhalation as Kris buckled the crotch strap tight then set up the wires to both our devices, again connecting them to the black box that had been used previously.

Our evening of entertainment was not to begin just then.  The crowd had left, but Marilyn returned to our prison with a man and a woman.  The woman was in her early thirties, I guessed, and he perhaps a few years older.  They were both dressed in casual black, and I recognised them as having been in the crowd that afternoon.

“We had a little competition while waiting for you to escape,” said Marilyn smugly.  “Names went into a hat for the pleasure of giving you both a sound thrashing.”  I groaned inwardly.  My physical and mental strength was being worn down by this constant punishment and the uncertainty of my whole future.  At every turn we seemed to be encountering a further unpleasant surprise, and this was just another of them.

The woman had chosen a thin whip that was more like a small fishing rod in being able to bend almost into a circle, ending with a single thong and a small bulbous tip.  The man had a flogger with perhaps a dozen tails on it that looked as though they were made of thin rubber.  Marilyn and Kris brought in a pair of stools and proceeded to make themselves comfortable in a corner, with expressions of expectant pleasure on their faces.

Our two tormentors took their places – the woman behind me and the man behind Emma.  They began the punishment slowly and softly, and I knew at once that they were experienced in this.  There was the gradual warming up of the whole of our bodies from calf to neck, with an unspoken swapping of sides halfway through.  The swats came steadily, the tips of the whip and the flogger at first just brushing our skin, then becoming more pronounced, the brush changing to a stinging slap-slap-slap as the thongs went back and forth in steady rhythm.  I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and saw Kris starting to squirm on her stool, and I realised she was becoming aroused by what was happening to us.  Her hands were firmly in her crotch and she had a dreamy look on her face.

By this time my skin was glowing like a bad case of sunburn, but so skilfully had the strokes been applied that no single part of the flesh on my back seemed to have been targeted more than another - it was all sore.  Now, however, I could sense the tempo speeding up, and the strength behind the blows increasing.  Our assailants swapped again, with the sound of the flogger dominating in the room, a flat swish-slap against Emma’s back.  Behind me I could hear a thin switching noise followed each time by the biting sting of the whip as it scored across my exposed flesh.  We were both starting to feel the pain in no uncertain terms, struggling against the tape holding our arms with each strike and grunting plaintively behind sealed lips.  Emma screwed up her eyes in pain and shook her head, snorting in distress as the blows kept coming, up and down our vulnerable backs and legs, with a few on our arms for good measure.

When the man and the woman finally opened their shoulders, Emma and I were both crying and keening through our noses as the pain became unbearable, and I felt the flesh was being shredded from my back.  I was just aware of Kris shuddering and finally getting herself off, when the torture finally stopped.

Emma – no doubt like me – had runnels of tears etched on her face and I felt her naked breasts heaving against mine as she struggled to control her sobs and breathing under the handicap of her closed mouth and the sponge ball that she doubtless had trapped inside.  I rested my forehead against hers in the best show of consolation and support that I could manage, scarcely aware of the other four people in the room.  Marilyn showed the guest whippers out, while Kris - looking just a little shaky on her legs, but with a smile of satisfaction like a cat who’s found the saucer of cream – sidled up to me and ran her hands over my back.  I trembled and moaned while Kris licked my neck and ran her hands around my body to grasp my nipples and give them a squeeze.  I whined in pain.

“Mmmm.  That was soo-o-o-o good, Monica…” she purred in my ear.  “I really enjoyed it.  We should do it again sometime.  What do you think?” 

I shook my head exhaustedly, uttering a negative through my nose.

“Kris!”  Marilyn had returned.  “That’s enough!”

Kris shot Marilyn a resentful look but said nothing, though she stepped away from me.  Marilyn held the blonde’s gaze and stared her down, until finally Kris left the room in a sulk.

Marilyn took only a minute to set the controls of the black box.

“As you know so well,” she told us, “your little friends will deliver pleasure or pain.  The control box also has a random generator which can be set with limits for intensity, duration, and time between activation.  Aside from my setting these limits, the rest is all random, and both of you will get it at the same time, in whatever form it takes.  I wonder if it will be more pain than pleasure?  What do you think, Emma?”  Emma rolled her eyes in misery and uttered a muted moan.  “I’ll leave the lights on, so you can see each other’s enjoyment.  Seeya girls.”

*   *   *

Emma and I had always been close, primarily in a professional way.  I had trained her to recognise her talents and to focus on her strengths as a submissive.  Her relationship with Jillian had complemented this and I had grown very fond of Emma as she had explored and expanded her abilities and desires.  Of course, I was Emma’s boss and paid her wages, but in Bilboes any professional relationship inevitably went much further than simply numbers on a balance sheet.  We were a team, and as the team leader I was responsible for their welfare, as much as I could manage it.  As a team, we also looked out for each other, and in this regard I could not have asked for a better group of girls.  Now I was sharing pleasure and pain with Emma in a situation neither of us had ever envisaged in our worst nightmares. 

Almost before Marilyn had left the room, the inserts buried inside us hummed into life and before long we were within their power.  It was a devious position that Marilyn had left us in, for our breasts were permanently touching and it took little effort to make contact at crotch level.  Inevitably this was the case, as we thrust our loins together, forcing the clit stimulators harder against their targets as we urgently sought the relief we needed.  It did not take many minutes before we were grunting and moaning cheek to cheek, humping each other stupid and moaning ecstatically as we climaxed together.  To say that it was not unpleasant was perhaps expressing it euphemistically, but this was not some gratification exercise that could be wound down after the first orgasm, when the participants would be untied and led to their beds to fall into an exhausted and happy sleep.  The buzzing machine was mechanically unaware of our climax, and kept vibrating, building us up again for a second time, before abruptly stopping just when we were lining up the runway for takeoff.

Things went quiet for a bit, as our heart rates slowly returned to normal and we felt the beads of perspiration run slowly down our bodies.  We jerked simultaneously as the first serious jolt as close to full intensity shot through our insides.  Emma uttered a muted scream – as much as she could manage through her nose – and stared wide-eyed at me as the pain made us stiffen and tug at the tape holding our outstretched arms and the ropes on our ankles.  Then it died, and we were again left to recover, our breasts heaving as we tried to recover our breath. 

This was in your face stuff, in the literal sense of the word.  I stared into the black depths of Emma’s eyes and during the course of the night we shared countless moments of agony and ecstasy that left us damp with perspiration, trying our best to comfort each other with wordless looks and little mewing moans and grunts.  Once or twice our eyes closed with fatigue, but always the insidious machines inside us burst into life again, stimulating our swollen passages or making us buck and struggle against the zaps that made our insides turn to jelly.

It was probably the longest night of my life.  I thought about all sorts of things, not least like why I was even in this business, and all the misery I had brought on my friends, never mind myself.  The sight of Emma bravely trying not to cry, then finally being unable to contain the tears as they slid down her cheeks to the accompaniment of muffled sobbing and sniffling.  I nuzzled her face, doing my best to kiss her with lips still sealed closed with that terrible glue.

The night dissolved into a series of half-remembered dreams and hallucinations.  My feet and arms slowly turned numb and I was almost hanging in the duct tape restraints, braced against Emma at the crotch, when I was brought back to reality.  I must have been dozing in one of the intervals between the tormenting juice being activated, for I never heard anyone come in until somebody began to undo the crotch strap holding the Ultimator in place.  I opened my eyes, but the place was in darkness save for the beam of one of those torch lights you wear on a strap on your forehead.  I was confused as to where I was and what was happening, though I felt the two big invaders withdrawn in a sudden rush that left me relieved but somehow empty, for the thing had become part of me over many hours of teasing and torment.

I was making little moaning noises of relief and sensed that Emma was now awake and wondering what was happening.  For a brief instant I thought we were being rescued, or at least freed, though I couldn’t work out why it was happening in the dark.  A few seconds after my hopes of released soared, I was dropped into the depths of agony and despair again, as a big slippery dildo plunged up my arse and a female form pressed against my back.

“It’s payback time, Monica Armstrong,” Kris’s voice hissed in my ear.  “Payback for the time I spent impaled on that pole after the swimming event.  I was best in my year at college, I’ll have you know!  That Leila bitch never deserved to win!”  She thrust deeper into me and I moaned in desperation. My butt was really tender from the treatment it had received all night, never mind the previous day or two.  Kris must have been wearing some sort of pvc catsuit with a strap-on, for I felt the slickness of the material against my equally tender back, with firm breasts and rock hard nipples pressing through the pvc.

“And this is for the night that you and your mate Steven left us in the dungeon, during the assault course!”  She gave a huge hump that buried the dong up to the hilt.  We both groaned, me in pain and Kris with satisfaction.  Her breathing was growing faster and she was panting right next to my ear as she thrust harder and quicker.  Her arms wrapped around me and were playing with my nipples, tweaking and pinching them for all she was worth.  I knew she was coming as her breathing turned to a series of gasps and a mounting crescendo of cries. 

In the middle of all of this the lights came on, but I don’t think either of us realised it.  It was too painful for me, for I had my eyes closed and I just wished she would get it over with, while Kris was off in Krisland somewhere.  Probably the first we knew that we had a visitor was when an arm abruptly slapped a handcuff on Kris’s wrist and pulled both arms behind her, locking the second cuff in place.  Kris came down to earth with a thump, though she was still embedded inside me.

“I should have expected this,” Marilyn snapped.  “You’ve been sneaking about behind my back before, haven’t you!”

“Wha- what?”  Kris was confused and tried to disengage from my arse, but with Marilyn’s knee in her back she only succeeded in rogering me further.  I made more protesting hmmming sounds but was ignored. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see the mercury switch turned up to high, the extra string to Monica’s mouth straw, the fresh whip marks.  Really Kris!  How stupid do you think I am?  I’m getting really tired of this.  If you want to be a full partner in this enterprise, you need to start acting professionally!  Sometimes you really piss me off!”

Kris obviously saw the vulnerability of her situation and immediately tried to be conciliatory. 

“Okay, I’m sorry.  Let me go, okay?  But the slut deserved it!”

“Kris!  You will never get anywhere in business if you harbour grudges like this.  It affects your judgement, and people will learn not to trust you.  If you have hidden agendas you’ll lose customers.”

“Oh but Marilyn…” Kris whined.

“Shut up!”  Suddenly Kris was making gurgling sounds that I knew were symptomatic of something being stuffed in a mouth, and moments later I felt the withdrawal of the big dildo as it slid out of my arse.  I could now see Marilyn, and she was looking decidedly annoyed with what was obviously the junior parner in the company.  Marilyn was wearing a charcoal leather skirt and matching lycra top with long sleeves which showed off her figure but which was – given the nature of the place – quite conservative.  Her handling of the black pvc-catsuited figure now silenced with a ball gag was sure and professional.

I was taken aback at this course of events, as Marilyn forced the handcuffed Kris to her knees and wrapped a rope around her knees and then around her neck, forcing her gagged mouth down to within a few inches of the black strap-on. 

“I can see I’m going to have to do a few things around here myself,” Marilyn said.  “I thought you’d got your act together better than this.  You just want to make things harder for me, don’t you.”  It was a rhetorical question, but Kris shook her head, mmphing denial of the statement around the ball gag.  Marilyn bound and cinched Kris’s ankles, then looped the tail through the handcuffs, before rolling her helpless accomplice on to her side and pulling the rope tight, forcing Kris into a foetal ball..

Evidently the handcuffs had been meant for Emma, with Kris’s little performance not having been anticipated by Marilyn.  She left the room and returned with another pair of cuffs, these being thumb cuffs, and soon had Emma with her thumbs linked behind her before her ankles were released.  Emma tottered uncertainly as her circulation slowly returned, and allowed herself to be led out of the room, presumably to the bathroom.  I was dying to go myself, but was forced to wait what seemed an interminable time.

With my back to the door I couldn’t see Marilyn’s return.  I heard the click of high heels on the concrete floor, but it wasn’t Marilyn’s voice that reached my ears.  Instead, the smooth, slightly accented English sent a shiver down my spine.

“Good morning Monica.  I hear you’ve had an interesting time here.”  Jade Wong walked slowly into my field of vision.  Like Marilyn, she wore a conservatively cut outfit, a deep green leather skirt to mid-thigh, and matching knee-length boots and jacket over a pale green top of some sort of stretch material.  She looked immaculate and in control of the world, and her cool gaze heightened my sense of vulnerability.  She placed the pointed heel of a boot on the neck of the bound and gagged figure lying on the floor.  Kris’s eyes widened and she mmphed in fear as Jade Wong dug the heel into the captive flesh.

“Tsk tsk.  Always so sad when business partners fall out.  Damaging the merchandise is a poor way to do business.  People don’t want damaged goods, Kris.  I think Marilyn may have to make you learn a few things about business relationships.  Monica is not here for your personal gratification.  You must learn not to harbour grudges, right Monica?”  I made a faint affirmative sound through my nose, not knowing what was going on.

“You and I are going to have some fun today, Monica, after which we’re going on a trip.  I hear LA is nice at this time of the year.”

Los Angeles!  God, when were they going to stop carting me around the world?  I didn’t know if I could take more hours buried alive in the sand box, breathing rubberised air and unable to move.

“Unfortunately, before that happens I have to feed and wash you.  Sometimes this business can be most distasteful, but life is full of such little burdens we have to endure.”  Right then I reckoned I was the one doing all the enduring of anything remotely distasteful, but I was hardly able to argue the point.  Jade Wong produced a retractable box cutter knife and slit the duct tape holding my arms to the bar.  I had almost no feeling left in them, and they sort of flopped to my sides, before the tingling started with returning circulation.  By that time, however, my wrists were securely handcuffed in front of me. 

I looked down at the handcuffs.  They were non-standard – a custom made one-piece set without a chain and bent at an angle so that the hands came together at ninety degrees.  They were quite comfortable, but I also noticed that the shape of the wrist holes was not round but a sort of oval shape, made in the exact profile of a wrist so that I could not rotate my wrist within the confines of the steel.  All in all it was a very thoughtful and clever design, and I was impressed.  I had also no doubt that it was a very secure design, for I noticed that the key hole was on the inner face, and there was no way I could get to it, even if somebody had handed me the keys right then.

“I see you notice the cuffs.  Yes, they are very secure, and quite comfortable - and very expensive.  There is just so much merchandise available at this place, one can be spoilt for choice.”  She fastened a thin chain around my neck before undoing my ankles, and like Emma I found difficulty in walking, still being perched on the high heels I had been forced to endure since the previous afternoon.  “Come, my dear.  I’m sure you could use the bathroom.”

I clattered after her, and it was only after I was allowed to use the loo, then had my neck chain locked to a pipe along the tiled wall, that Jade allowed herself to relax and bend down to undo my high heels.  That was when she finally applied the solvent to my lips working it into the seal between them until they finally parted and I encountered the foul taste of the solvent.

“Gahhh!” I exclaimed, spitting out the saturated sponge ball that had been there for so many hours. “God!  That tastes disgusting!”

“Would you rather I sealed them up again?” Jade purred.

“No! God, no!  Please, just turn on the water and let me wash my mouth out…”  She did so and tossed me some soap, and soon I was letting the tepid water run over my bruised and battered skin.

“You’re quite a mess, Monica,” Jade said from her position perched on a wooden stool out of water range.

“Thank you.”

She smiled at my attempt at sarcasm.  “Looks like someone gave you a real going over.  I presume you still have the strength to eat?”  I said yes, trying not to sound as desperately hungry as I felt.  Already I was drinking the water from the showerhead, trying to replace the pints that I must have sweated in the vac-bed and the other humiliations that I had been forced to endure the previous day and during the night.  I felt my strength returning, but my back and the backs of my legs felt as though they had been slow-roasted, and I was still fatigued from the almost sleepless night and the constant interruptions.

While my jailer left the room – I presumed in search of some food for me – I took stock of my body.  I could not really see my back, but my legs were criss-crossed with a network of red lines which had been inflicted in a manner just short of drawing blood.  My skin was very tender and my pussy and arse were both swollen and sensitive.  I was aching in every muscle, for such is the effort you put in to resist the forces at work on you, not even realising at the time how tensed up you have become.

The chain was just long enough for me to sit, letting the coolness of the tiles take some of the heat that still lingered in my back and buttocks, while the water drizzled down on me.  I wanted to go to sleep right then and there, and felt I perhaps could have, had Jade not returned with some sandwiches and milkshake, presumably from some catering outfit in the main hall.  Did you tell them it was for a naked prisoner you’re keeping chained up in the shower room, I wondered.  Very funny Monica - keep focussed, I thought.

I devoured the breakfast and felt much better for it, though still only at half strength.  I wanted to quiz the Chinese woman, but decided this was not a good idea until I had eaten. 

“Where are you taking me to?” I demanded finally, satisfied there was not a drop of milkshake left nor single breadcrumb remaining.

“You’ll find out in due course,” she said impatiently.  “Now stand up and face the wall.”

For a moment I remained where I was, trying to stare her down, but I knew it would never work.

“Monica,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.  “We can do this two ways.  One of them is easy.  The other involves me going back to the display room and fetching the most painful instrument I can find to come and beat you further with it.  You know I’ll do it, and I will also be cranky and exasperated when I come back, and I’ll probably hurt you more than I intend at this point in time.  Now which way is it going to be?”

Reluctantly, in the manner of a submissive who knows when she has run out of choices, I obeyed, pressing my breasts against the tiles as Jade fastened a head harness and ball gag in place.  I felt the click of a small padlock at the nape of my neck amidst my wet hair.  She then took a towel and after rubbing down my front, with unnecessary attention to my pussy, she turned me roughly to the wall again and did the same to my back.  I screamed into the ball gag, so tender was my skin.  It felt like the towel was made of sandpaper and I blinked back the tears of pain as best I could, and did my utmost to be composed when I was led back into the big room with the stage, here to be chained by the neck to the wall again behind the screen.

Kris was nowhere in sight, so I could only presume she was still tied up on the floor next door.  I felt a sneaking admiration for Marilyn in that she didn’t suffer fools gladly, nor did she tolerate disobedience.  I could recall more than a few occasions when I had made an example out of one of my own staff in a similar manner.  And I had to say that the carrot and stick approach worked well.  Now, it appeared, Jade Wong was going to be the assistant, and she seemed to be enjoying every minute of the opportunity to ritually humiliate me in front of a bunch of Marilyn’s well-heeled clients.

During the time I had been showering and eating, poor Emma had been on the receiving end of Marilyn for the morning show.  With her hair in a long pony tail, Emma now wore a severe-looking metal brace that kept her posture perfect.  It comprised a piece of stainless steel pipe running from her neck to below the cleft of her buttocks.  The pipe was perhaps two centimetres in diameter and was fastened in place primarily with a five-centimetre stainless strap that was attached in two pieces to the pole by hinges at the small of Emma’s back, curving round her narrow waist to lock in front at her navel.  Two further straps curved round level with her breasts, dividing at the outside of each and continuing above and below her breasts to be screwed together between them.  The screw did more than just connect everything, however, for it served as a clamp, pulling the top and bottom halves of the strap together and trapping Emma’s boobs between them.  Emma’s breasts were a pleasurable sight at any time, being full and bouncy in a way that hinted of extra substance, when there was none, but now they were swollen and bulging, the nipples jutting out rigidly like pointing fingers.

Above this constriction, a further, padded restraint ran from the top of the back bar around Emma’s neck, lifting her chin, and with a vertical extension either side of her jaw to keep her head from turning.  The top of the vertical extensions turned forward at the level of the mouth and connected in front of Emma’s lips, where a ball gag was held in place with an eyebolt passing through a hole in the connection. Emma’s body was thus rigid from the waist up, except for her arms.

The usual suspects were now being let in for the session, and once again the numbers seemed to have increased.  Marilyn was doing her meet and greet thing out front, extolling the virtues of her wares and towing a high-heeled Emma behind via a chain attached to the eyebolt in front of her mouth.

After a few circuits and inspections by the masses, Marilyn showed how arm extensions could be simply bolted on to short stubs that protruded from the pole just above waist level.  The extensions were basically horizontal L-shaped pieces that had metal cuffs welded on top of them at the outer ends.  The arms were thus locked in a position with the upper arms vertical and the lower parts horizontal.  “Ideal for carrying a tray” was how Marilyn described it, and at once thrust a tray of champagne glasses into Emma’s hands and told her to circulate amongst the customers.

In her high heels and with limited ability to look down at where the steps were, Emma did remarkably well – a tribute to my training, if I do say so myself.  The poor dear was scared witless of making a mistake, of course, and who could blame her.  When she returned with an empty tray, Marilyn took great delight in showing off how the pole could be secured at a ‘docking station’ as she called it.  A square steel plate sat on the floor with two upward protrusions.  One was a short stub over which the back pole slid and which was secured in place with a pin through a hole at the base.  The other protrusion, required to be incorporated simultaneously with the pole connection, was a large phallus which Emma was required to squat on. 

Emma did so with much protest, albeit not well expressed.  I had no doubt that her arse – like mine – was very tender with things having been thrust in and out of it on a regular basis, not to mention all the electrical stimulation it had been receiving of late.  Emma squirmed and whined in complaint as she slowly lowered herself on to the big acrylic plug, grunting and snorting as it slowly penetrated her back passage.  It was of considerable girth, and I felt for her as she was obliged to perform the act in front of the audience, forcing herself down until the pole finally came to rest and the pin could be pushed home.  Emma was now unable to move, squatting on her high heels and penetrated fully. She would have lowered her eyes in submission if she could have, but the steel brace kept her head lifted and staring directly at her amused audience.

With Emma securely anchored, it was obviously my turn.  Marilyn had Jade Wong bring me out and introduced both of us.  Most of the crowd had seen me before, and a lot were obviously intrigued with Jade’s exotic looks and elegance.  Between Jade and Emma, the Asian look was clearly on show.  I felt quite ordinary by comparison, especially with the marks on my back, not to mention the fact that my hair was a mess, not having been given time to dry properly before the head harness had been buckled and locked in place.

Marilyn displayed the handcuffs first, and like Emma I had to parade through the group and let them inspect the cuffs.  There was much interest, and I could see Marilyn’s eyes lining up the possible customers.  She was a cool one, I thought.  She was clever, too, having identified this exclusive niche in the market, dealing with only the best products and selling only to those who could afford them.

“This morning we will be angling a little to the medical side,” Marilyn was saying.  “Of course we touched on that yesterday with that lovely straitjacket that Emma modelled for you.  Now we’re going to look at some more specific medical restraints.  The first ones that Monica will be showing off are adapted from the medical braces, which we shall see a little later.”

The restraints were straightforward – simple leather sleeves that wrapped around each arm, from mid-forearm to mid-bicep, but reinforced with some sort of thin, stiff rods that made it impossible to bend my elbows.  Multiple buckles – three above and three below the elbow - secured the sleeves in place, and Marilyn showed how the braces could be hidden by borrowing Jade Wong’s leather jacket.  My handcuffs were removed and Marilyn slid the jacket upward over my rigid arms and buttoned it down the front.  The silk lining felt cool against my skin and the smell of the leather was nice.  The jacket was just a little tight over my breasts, since Jade had one of those willow slim figures that few western girls could hope to match.

“Walk for us, Monica,” ordered Marilyn.  I did as I was told, naked from the waist down and clothed above, feeling faintly ridiculous as I did several model strolls across the stage.  “You may take your gag off if you can reach it,” she added.  The inference was obvious, and of course I could not get my hands anywhere close to my head.  Marilyn rubbed my vulnerability in even further, opening the jacket to release two nasty steel clips loose on my nips, which had been stimulated enough by the cool silk lining to be erect and sensitive.

“You may take them off, too, if you so wish,” said Marilyn, unable to hide the smugness in her voice.  She turned to the audience.  “You see, you can take your subbie for a shopping trip, forcing her to wear such little accessories, with the comforting knowledge that she will be unable to take them off.  Try Monica – go on,” she teased.  “It can’t be that hard, surely?”  I did my best, but it was hopeless, and I whined in pain from my efforts.

The demonstration was well received, and the jacket was removed and handed back to Jade Wong.  The next stage was the application of further braces, this time around my knees.  I was starting to feel like Frankenstein’s monster, as my knees were similarly immobilised, and I was made to parade around the stage.  Marilyn added a clear acrylic neck brace, just to finish me off, securing it so that I could not turn my head without turning my body at the waist.

“These things can be a lot of fun, especially combined with another little device which some of you may have come across, called a mercury switch.”  I groaned inwardly.  “Come here, Monica.”  I moved across to Marilyn as she showed the switch to her audience.  “This particular one is very simple, just like a large medicine capsule.  Tilt it one way and the mercury slides to the end and bridges across two contacts, closing the circuit.  Tilt it the other way and the mercury runs to the other end and the circuit is broken.  There is another version that will tilt in any direction, which is also fun, isn’t it Monica?” 

“Mmmph,” I said.

“That’s a ‘yes’,” Marilyn clarified with a smile.  “Today we’re going to tape one of these switches to each of Monica’s wrists.  All she will have to do will be to keep the switch level.  Drop it too much and allow the contact to be made and she’ll get a nasty buzz.”

The aforementioned nasty buzz turned out to be through the nipple clips, which had a contact in each jaw, and when the circuit was closed, the juice went right through my nip.  It was very painful, as I found out.  There was a small battery which I was made to hold in each hand, one battery feeding my left nipple – via the switch on my left wrist – and the other feeding my right nipple.  I was told to raise my arms like a crucifixion and then the wires were connected.

I soon discovered the limits of what I could and couldn’t do.  The first time I lowered my right arm just a little too much a jolt shot through my nipple and I squealed into the gag, abruptly raising my arm again.  Talk about aversion therapy and Pavlov’s dog.   While part of my mind was concentrating on keeping my arms up, another part could not stop thinking about the potential for this.  Posture training, gym equipment, obedience, you name it. 

I experimented with my arms, noting that I could swing them from being out the side to being straight in front of me, but soon they began to get tired, and after a couple more painful spasms, I stomped over to the wall and leaned forward against it, my arms outstretched and pressed against the wall in front of me.  I could thus gain some relief and some support.  Marilyn had been busy giving some details on some of the equipment and had not noticed my action until several of the group applauded my initiative.

Marilyn looked up and smiled sardonically when she saw me.  “Necessity is the mother of invention,” she said.  “Monica, get your ass back here, before I chain you to something less supportive than that wall.”

Reluctantly I did so, but soon the strength in my arms was beginning to fade, and my muscles were beginning to tremble with the strain of keeping my arms horizontal.  Several times, with increasing frequency, I shocked my nipples as I let my arms droop.  Tears of pain were starting in my eyes and I could not help myself making pleading nasal whines to Marilyn as the strain became intolerable.  Keeping one’s arms up like this was at least as painful – in a different way – as a lashing with a flogger.  I gritted my teeth as much as I could, biting down on the ball strapped between my teeth and making muffled pleas for release, much to everybody’s amusement.  Finally Marilyn took pity on me and disconnected the switches, at which point she and Jade Wong let me slide to the floor where I lay inert, barely able to move, both because of the immobilising braces and the sheer exhaustion I was feeling.

I closed my eyes and lost interest in the world.  I hurt too much and everything was just becoming more than I could deal with.  The attention turned away from me and just before I dozed off I was aware of Emma again becoming the focus of the show.

I suppose I must have been out for ten minutes, and the brief nap did me a lot of good.  I awoke with Jade Wong undoing my leg braces and dragging me to my feet, before hauling me behind the screen to be again chained by the neck to the wall pipe.  I could now see Emma, strapped to the thing that had previously been under a dust sheet, and which turned out to be a brand new medical examination bench, straight out of the gynaecology equipment shop.

Emma was clearly not happy, lying on her back with her legs lifted upwards and outwards, draped over supports at the knees and secured at the ankles.  Emma came from a nursing background and had no doubt seen expectant mothers being attended to on such contraptions, but when you weren’t pregnant and were instead having all your most vulnerable and tender parts opened to the world, it was most likely an equally unpleasant experience.

Emma’s arms were secured by velcro straps to stainless steel bars running beside her body on the black vinyl padded bench.  The bench sloped slightly upwards towards her head, which was cradled in a dentist’s chair headrest, anchored by a strap across her forehead.  Her mouth was held open by a whitehead gag, the ratchet device holding her jaw wide and allowing a clamp to be fitted to her tongue such that it was held protruding beyond her lips.  The clamp was as long as a pencil and extended either side of her mouth, such that any attempt to retract her tongue brought the ends of the clamp up against the corners of her mouth.  It was a very uncomfortable situation, and poor Emma could do nothing other than roll her eyes at the goings on around her.

Her body was further trapped by further velcro straps at the neck, above and below her breasts, at her waist, and over each thigh.  Marilyn was as usual singing the praises of her products.

“The tongue clamp, as you can see, is a wonderful, much maligned and under-used gag, particularly when combined with the whitehead.  If you love to hear your slave moan and squeal, this is the way to do it.  Isn’t that right, Emma?”  Marilyn gave one of Emma’s nipples a hard twist.  Emma let out an incoherent cry from her open mouth.  Without the use of tongue or lips to enunciate, it came out as an animal-like moan from deep in her throat, totally different from the nasal hums that traditionally emanated from the nose of a gagged slave.

“Having the air way clear like this means one can play with the nose,” Marilyn went on, producing a double curved steel nose hook with plugs, and inserting it into Emma’s nostrils.  The hook ran up each side of her nose before joining above the bridge and continuing with a thin cord.  Marilyn pulled on this, increasing the pressure and distorting Emma’s nose as she squirmed and gurgled, before the cord was finally tied off.

“This leaves us free to work our way down this lovely body,” said Marilyn.  “Emma has such lovely tits that it seemed only reasonable to use them to show off the latest in suction devices.  The first things I want to demonstrate are the nipple tubes.  Now both nipple tubes and breast tubes can be operated either with a vacuum pump like the one we used on the vac-bed, or else with a simple hand-operated pump.”  She held up a nipple tube in one hand and the pump in the other.  The former was like a solid test tube – open at one end and with some sort of small white connection point at the other.  The hand pump was like a cut of version of a caulking gun, with a grip handle underneath, a pressure gauge on top, and a short piece of flexible hose hanging off it.

“These tubes are the finest quality acrylic,” said Marilyn.  “No risk of breaking under pressure.  Very easy to use, and made easier if the subject’s nipples are erect.”  She turned to Emma. “Here’s a pair I prepared earlier.”  A chuckle went through the crowd.   “As we see, Emma – like a good slave – is highly aroused at the moment.”  Marilyn flicked the nipple tips standing upright on Emma’s breasts, prompting a moan from the helpless patient.  “”Simply connect the top of the tube to the hose fitting like so – it slides off and on real easy – then work the open end of the tube over the offending nipple – then pump.”  She squeezed the handle of the pump a few times.  “It doesn’t take much to extract the air from the tube, and at around 20 psi it’s starting to get a tad uncomfortable, right Emma?”

“Aarr!” said Emma

“A couple more squeezes and it is really starting to hurt, yes?”

“Aargh!  Arrgh!”

“Very good, dear.  Now, we slip the hose off like so and the tube stays there.  Now for the other one.”  Moments later Emma was gasping and exclaiming as her right nipple matched her left, both sporting the clear tubes containing the stretched and distorted nipples encased inside.  Marilyn flicked the tubes several times and demonstrated how they would not easily be dislodged.

“We can go one step further, of course, with the breast tubes.”  She held one up.  “Again, made of unbreakable acrylic and working on exactly the same principle.  I think it’s fun to place the tit jar over the nipple tube.  It doubles the enjoyment.”  She proceeded to work the bell-shaped jar over Emma’s right breast with its erect and quivering nipple tube, before beginning to pump the air out of the jar.  Emma’s breast was slowly sucked into the jar, extending from its graceful rounded shape into a distended cylinder topped with the tube, as the jar mouth tried to burrow around the base of her breast. Marilyn disconnected the jar and repeated the process with the other breast, while Emma made increasing noises of discomfort and protest, her restrained hands flapping uselessly at her side.

“Of course, if you’re so inclined, you can also include a little nipple electrotherapy at the same time.  Just imagine what that would be like.  We have a special deluxe version of the tubes available for this, which feature internal electrodes and attachments for wiring.  Hours of fun for the whole family!”  The crowd tittered and on Marilyn’s invitation clustered closely around the bench to examine the holding power of the tubes, straps and tongue clamp.  From the midst of the group I heard more pitiful moans from Emma.

After the crowd was satisfied, Marilyn carried on with her presentation, firstly with a range of specula – instruments used for holding a body cavity open for inspection.  In this case it was Emma’s pussy and butthole, and I could barely contain myself at the misery of Emma’s moans as the various devices were inserted and expanded.

“Ideal for getting those Ben Wa beads out when they come apart,” Marilyn joked.  “And while we’re in the area, as the travelling salesman might say, why not look at a few new vibrators on the market.  I particularly like this one…” 

I could not see what was going on with the crowd of people clustered round the bound and recumbent figure, but I could hear a new intensity in Emma’s guttural cries as the vibrators were applied singly and successively to her wide open pussy and clit – and probably her arse as well.  Several times she was almost ready to climax, at which point Marilyn stopped proceedings and proceeded to lash her exposed pussy with a small flogger.  Finally, with the consent of the crowd, Emma was allowed to climax, and she did so in a loud and throaty fashion, to the urging and then applause of the audience.

As the demonstration wound down, Jade Wong appeared next to me.

“This is going so well,” she enthused.  “I’m very pleased for Marilyn.”  Personally I couldn’t imagine Jade being pleased for anybody other than Jade Wong, but once again I could not argue the point.  I had the suspicion that I was about to become the centre of attention again, and this was confirmed as I became the possessor of another pair of leg braces, this time with steel sections stretching down each side of each leg, from the top of my thighs to my ankles, strapped snugly in place.  There was a rotating joint at the knee, which meant that I could in fact walk in these, but there was also a locking mechanism which meant that they could be secured at any angle from straight to bent.  For the moment the joints were left loose, and she began to remove the rigid arm braces, replacing them with braces similar to those I wore on my legs, again able to be locked at any angle, and in this instance locked in the straight position.

From the crowd beyond the screen there came a noise which might have been an audio version of a geyser going off, as it made several starting groans then ascended rapidly in pitch and intensity, soaring to a frantic throaty howl, as Emma hit the big ‘O’ again.  I became aware of Marilyn checking Jade’s progress with me, helping remove my harness gag.  For a moment I had hopes of freedom of speech, but again the dreaded Skin-Tite glue tube appeared.  Jade pinioned me against the wall with a forearm across my throat.  She was surprisingly strong for all her petite figure, and I reckoned she must work out or do some sort of sport on a regular basis.  Marilyn shoved a sponge ball the size of a golfball into my mouth, and I figured out what was going to happen next.

“Don’t make trouble now, Monica,” Marilyn said pointedly.  “We wouldn’t want this stuff to go somewhere it shouldn’t, would we?”  I did as I was instructed, figuring it was better to have the glue properly applied if my mouth was going to be closed for some hours.  I wouldn’t want to go out and face my fans with a twisted smile.  Marilyn did the application and held my lips closed for a few seconds, then it was all over and I was shut up until further notice.

“Comfy?” she asked with mock concern.

“Mmm,” I said.

Marilyn left to attend to the crowd, shooing the audience back off the stage where they had been taking much delight in Emma’s reactions.  As they retreated, I could see Emma’s breasts heaving, the jars on them and the nipple tubes inside wobbling about with her efforts to breathe.  Poor Em.  I wished desperately that I could do something to help her, but events were way beyond our control.

“I think we all enjoyed that,” Marilyn was saying.  “Especially Emma.  Now, the final items I’d like to show remain with a medical theme, and again provide some options for you to think about.  Firstly, we offer you the ability to transport a slave in a manner that – while not exactly inconspicuous – is at least legitimate and may actually provide you with some sympathy in the process.  On a slightly different level, talking your subbie for a stroll in the mall may be a fun thing to do.  So, let us proceed. The volunteer for this demonstration will be Monica, just to let Emma recover.  Jade, please bring out our willing participant.”
The chain around my neck had been undone and Jade Wong held me by the arm as I walked stiffly out to face the audience.  Walking with the braces on was awkward, but at least I could bend my legs – for the moment.

“These braces are excellent value – made from the best quality steel and leather.  They can be locked at any angle, simply by screwing up the elbow and knee joints, and of course they can be physically locked on to the limbs themselves, with padlocks at the buckles.  Come over here, Monica darling.  Now, ladies and gentlemen, I want you to picture Monica as the victim of a car crash.  The poor dear has suffered terrible injuries and is now undergoing therapy, so you decide she needs to go out into the big wide world for a breath of fresh air.  We need to dress her first, if we’re not to cause a riot down at the mall.” 

Marilyn ducked behind the screen and returned a second later with a pale green dress on a coat hanger.  It was a wrap-around, short-sleeved dress that nearly reached my knees after they threaded my arms through the sleeves and tied the belt around my waist.  I was surprised how good it felt to be clothed again. 

“Obviously she isn’t going to walk far as she is, so we’ve arranged a wheelchair.  Jade, be a sweetie and fetch it from under that cover, please?”  Jade Wong moved to the edge of the stage and removed a dust sheet from the wheelchair, turning it towards us and pushing it across the stage.  A ripple of laughter ran through the audience at the sight of the black dildo that moved up and down like a piston through a hole in the seat, in time with the turning of the wheels.

“Yes, never let it be said we don’t give our patients the best of attention and care,” Marilyn said.  “We like to take them out with a smile on their faces.”  This was just so unfair, I thought.  There was only so much a girl could take. Marilyn released the locks at my elbows and she and Jade manoeuvred me on to the wheelchair, settling me in the seat with the dildo embedded in my pussy.  I squirmed to get comfortable and Marilyn moved the chair back and forth just enough for me to establish how it felt, then rearranged my dress so that it sat demurely over my thighs.

“We can now lock the elbow and knee braces in the bent position, and you will see that there are discrete velcro straps to hold wrists and ankles in place on the chair.  Of course we also have this waist belt, to ensure she can’t fall out.  The final – and I think most convincing – accessory is the head restraint.”  I turned my head as best I could to see what Marilyn was pulling out of a box in the corner, and didn’t like what I saw. 

“First we have the collar support,” said Marilyn.  “As you can see, it’s like one of those old diving helmet collars, except it’s made of high impact rigid plastic – very light and very strong. It drapes over the shoulders and down the chest, fitting between the breasts and then widening to permit a belt to go around the torso, just below them, like so.”  I was watching all this with a fascination I could not help, stemming I guess from a professional interest.  I was made to lean forward while the thing was positioned on my shoulders, with a corresponding stiff back plate behind me.  The straps from the back plate to the front below my breast were done up, making my breasts strain against the thin material of the dress, and inevitably making my nipples poke out as though the air conditioning was set too low.
“There are four sockets on this collar, two on the front on the points of the collar bone and two matching at the back, and each of these receives a vertical bar, reaching up to the top of the patient’s head, like so.”  I watched, intrigued despite myself, as Marilyn screwed the bars – as thick as my little finger – in place, then fitted a steel band around my head at the level of my temples, with the ring supported by the four bars.  The band was about an inch bigger all round than my head, but became connected to my head through a number of flat-ended screws that screwed up against my scalp, two at the temples, two on the sides of my head and two at the rear.  Marilyn did them up only finger tight, but suddenly I found myself unable to turn my head at all without discomfort as the pressure was applied at the screwtips.  I shuddered to think what the result would be if somebody decided to tighten the screws with a screwdriver.  It would be like something out of Pearson’s chapel of horrors.

In this instance, it seemed that I was now a complete invalid.

“There, ladies and gentlemen.  You see before you poor unfortunate Monica, victim of a dreadful accident, with spinal damage, not to mention limb trauma.  Of course it has affected her brain, as well.  She’s unable to speak, can you Monica?”

“Nnnn.”

“But you understand what I say?”

“Mmm.”

“And we can still make you happy, can’t we…” She began wheeling me in circles around the stage, and I felt the steady in-out of the dildo pistoning up between my legs.  “Is that nice?”

“Mmmnnn…” It was mostly an affirmative, but partly a protest at having to endure this again, and an uncertainty as to how much I could stand.  It felt good, especially with the knowledge that there was not suddenly going to be a shooting jolt of electricity through my insides, or across my nipples.  Okay, so I might get off again, but it was nothing new amongst these people.

“And that concludes the demonstration for today, ladies and gentlemen.  Unfortunately Monica and Emma have a transportation commitment, but I will be here again after lunch to take orders and to discuss any of these products in more detail.  Thank you so much for joining us in these demonstrations – I hope you have got something out of them, and had as much fun as we’ve had.  We have had fun, haven’t we Monica?”

“Mmmn…”

“Emma?”

“Aarrhh…”

The audience filed out.  I could not see what was happening to Emma now.  I was stranded in the middle of the stage with the others behind me.  I heard them working on Emma with Marilyn making some remark about an ambulance.  Then she said:

“Why don’t you take Monica for a spin in the main hall?  It seems a shame that she should miss out on the biggest bondage exhibition in the world.  I’m sure you and your disabled friend will get a lot of sympathetic looks.  Maybe you’ll get some free samples?  Just be back here in twenty minutes.  I’ll have Emma prepared by then and you’ll be ready to go.”

To go? Damn! These guys were going to ship us out again, over to LA, of all places!  Maybe I might just be able to pull something in the big hall…

Jade Wong pushed me to the edge of the stage and lowered the wheelchair carefully down the two steps, then pushed me to the door.  It was a solid wooden door with a key in the lock, still unlocked from the last of the guests that had left through it.  She opened it and we entered the other world that was the real BondCon.

The place was vast – but then exposition halls usually are, I guess.  We had emerged in the corner of the main hall, which was jam packed with all manner of stalls and display stands.  The place was buzzing with people and the sound of business.  Jade began pushing me down an aisle, weaving around people and occasionally stopping to look at goods on display.  We halted beside a display of leather outfits, and Jade pulled a dress from a rack to hold it up against herself.  As she was distracted, I tentatively tried out my restraints, but found that I was well and truly secured to the wheelchair at wrists, waist and ankles.  Frustrated, I mmphed to myself.  The sales assistant, a pallid blonde woman of middle age looked at me sympathetically. 

“Your friend looks a little restless,” she said to Jade in a voice that probably wasn’t intended to carry to me, but did.  “What happened to her?”

“Car accident,” said Jade, still engrossed in the leather dress.  “Brain damage, unfortunately.  Daft as a dodo now.  Can’t speak properly.  Has no idea what’s going on.  Bones are recovering, but her personality’s totally screwed.  We have to keep her restrained at all times.  Isn’t that right Monica?” She grinned at me.

“Mmmp!” I hummed, tugging vainly on my restraints and trying to shake my head, but ending up nodding because of the restrictive frame.

We didn’t buy the dress and moved on down the aisle.  Reaching the end of it, we turned into the more open space running along the length of the building, which was probably a couple of hundred metres long.  Here Jade stepped up the pace, moving at a brisk walk, that suddenly awakened all sorts of uncontrollable sensations between my legs as the big dildo began moving in and out at a faster rate.  In previously deciding that perhaps this experience would not be so bad after all, I had not considered having an orgasm in a public place.  Not since Steven had forced me to have a discrete climax after a Southbank Concert, back in Brisbane, had I had to undergo this sort of ignominy.  Well, yes, there was the walking race across Brisbane, where Warren had managed to distract all of us… Suddenly I realised that I had a string of convictions for climaxing in a public place, and it seemed I was now about to have another.

I squirmed against the relentless penetrations of the dong, my brain suddenly filled with a stupid child’s song – something about “the wheels of the bus went round and round, round and round, round and round…”  Every time round meant another thrust, and my swollen pussy took little time to become more sensitive, such that the big ‘O’ was on me with a rush, and I was rattling and heaving on my restraints and making loud mmming noises.  Jade considerately stopped the chair and squatted in front of me, to all appearances like a concerned carer.

“What’s wrong, darling?” she asked concernedly, like a mother to a five-year-old.

“Mmmmmmmnnn!” I moaned long and hard as the fiery rush shot up from my loins and I hurled myself in utter frustration against my bonds, snorting and moaning.  A young woman stopped with an anxious look on her face.

“Is she all right?”

“Oh yes, just a little temper tantrum,” Jade replied with a smile. “She’s not quite right in the head after the accident.  It’ll pass very quickly.”  The woman moved on and I opened my eyes just long enough to glare at Jade with all the fury I could muster, before succumbing to the final waves of pleasure as they slowly died down, leaving me sucking in great lungfuls of air through my nose, and watching as my breasts strained against the dress material held tight by the head and spine restraint.  God, when would this ever end?

Jade continued with her tour of the displays, and of course the ramrod continued with its tour of my pussy.  We did another slow trip down one of the cross aisles to reach the other side of the building again – the side with the door into our own private display centre.  We were heading away from the door, and I was only half with it, when we stopped abruptly.

“Oh shit!” Jade exclaimed under her breath.  The change in pace and exclamation were so abrupt that I snapped out of the torpor I had descended into, lulled by the insistent intrusions of the dildo.  I opened my eyes and saw the unmistakeable figure of Steven perhaps twenty metres away, talking to what looked like one of the stall holders.  I was galvanised and let out a huge moan, again throwing myself against the restraints.  Then he was out of my field of vision as we spun around and began a quick sprint towards our exit.

“Too late, honey!” Jade taunted.  “So near, huh!  Hope you got a good look, because that’s the last time you’ll see him!”

I moaned again and tears of despair overflowed down my cheeks…

*   *   *

14.07.04

story continues in Monica's Travels 19

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