Monica's Travels 26

by Richard Alexander (Gromets Plaza)

(story continues from Monica's Travels 25)

Chapter Twenty Six – Closure

“You forgot to tell them about the cameras,” Monica said as we walked back down the dirt road in the dying rays of the evening sun.  It was now cooling down to a nearly pleasant temperature, and the air hummed with chirping insects.

“Damn.  So I did,” I said, in mock dismay, and she smiled.  “I thought it might be all too much to expect them to take in the fact that they would be appearing live on the internet as well,” I said.

“Mmm.  You’re probably right.  Maybe they’ll get suspicious of the camera lenses behind the Perspex in the corners of the container, but they won’t be able to get at them. I think maybe we should leave that news for a little later, after they’ve got settled in.”  She appeared to think about it some more.  “It’s a hard one.  We have to tell them some time, if only to see the looks on their faces.”

“I’m sure we’ll get a better look when they realise how long it’s been going on and they try to recall all the things they’ve done that they might not have done otherwise,” I suggested.

“And you know the best way to do that?” Trish offered.

“Tell us.”

“Route the picture feed through the television screen, so that the first thing they know about it is when they see the live feed with the internet address at dommesinchains dot com.”

Monica laughed, and we joined in.  It was nice to think that things were under control once again, after all we’d been through.

Back at the house Shawnee was sitting at the computer in one of the spare bedrooms.

“How’s it going, Shawnee dear?” asked Monica as the rest of the group clustered round.  Of course asking Shawnee a straightforward question was rather like pulling a pin on a hand grenade, unless you wanted a full history leading up to the answer, all at a hundred miles an hour.

“Well I got on to Dianne like you said, and she set up a web page from there and connected it to a link on our own site – I mean the Bilboes one – which you know the name of – this new one, I mean – the dommesinchains one.  And its working really well, and Dianne says she’s linked it with a number of other sites and search engines so the word will be out and its really funny to watch and –“

“Thank you, Shawnee,” Monica sighed.  “Any more running off and you may join them as a sacrifice to their frustrations.”  Shawnee pouted but kept quiet, and all eyes turned to the screen. Phil had that morning fixed up a connection between the container’s television and the DVD and video players in the house, such that we could broadcast whatever we wanted to the container, though this wouldn’t happen for a few days.  He had also installed a switch that would over-ride the head harnesses, and create the need for the platform to be occupied and the ropes to be tied to a volunteer.  

“They must be hungry,” Jill said. “They’re experimenting with the stove already.”

“I’m not surprised,” Mary said.  “They’ve had no food since breakfast.”

“Look – Portia’s getting to ride the bike!” Leila exclaimed gleefully.

Jade was pointing to the bike.  Shawnee turned up the sound and we could hear the grunting as they tried to communicate through their gags.  Portia was decidedly unhappy at getting the short straw on the bike, but Jade pointed again to it with an expression that brooked no argument.  Reluctantly Portia climbed on the bike, awkwardly putting her high-heeled boots on the pedals and untangling the chain between her ankles and waist so that she could pedal freely.  

“I’ll bet that’s a real pain in the arse,” Leila smirked.  “Whose idea was that?”

“Who else but the master, here,” said Monica, making me blush.

“And I think you’ll find that the only way she can pedal properly, with the full leg extension, is with her butt plug hard in place,” I observed.

“You think of everything,” Monica said with a sigh of mock admiration.

We watched as Portia pedalled away, making occasional snorting sounds that indicated obvious discomfort.  Jade ferreted under the sink for pots and came up with more than what she’d expected.

“Oh, she’s discovered the riding crop and the vibrator.”

“What are they for?” asked Leila.

“We thought they might get bored, and we’re also interested in the human dynamics of two dommes trying to be in control, even if one is the employer,” Monica told her.  “I wonder how long it’ll be before Jade’s position as employer ceases to be relevant.   I suspect Portia may throw caution to the winds.  There may be a battle for possession of the whip and vibrator.  It’ll be such fun to watch.  I do like it when thieves fall out.”

We watched for fifteen minutes as Portia pedalled and Jade boiled some water to heat a frozen boil-in-the-bag meal.  The pair would be heartily sick of those, before long.

“Why don’t we spice things up a little?” I proposed.

“Power over ride?” asked Monica, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh.”

She reached forward and flicked the over-ride switch beside the keyboard.  Immediately the screen went dark and Shawnee pressed a key that would switch the picture to infrared.  A series of muffled grunts came from the prisoners as they tried to take in what had happened.  We had installed an infrared light in the container, which gave good resolution, though of course Portia and Jade could see nothing and were groping around in the dark.

Portia climbed stiffly off the exercycle, squatting briefly and trying to ease the big plug embedded inside her.  She fumbled about and found Jade, and through a series of grunts and mmphs, they established that it was time for somebody to be bound on the platform if the power was to come on again.

They were in agreement as far as the action that was to be taken, but when they had blindly felt their way along the container to the platform, there was some disagreement as to who was to be the first volunteer.  With the advantage of being able to see the people involved, it was quite clear to us that Portia considered her ride on the exercycle was enough, and there was no reason she should have to undergo this as well.

Jade seemed to think that as the employer, she could still dictate the terms of the relationship, and there was the start of a struggle.  We found it hilarious, and the girls were soon crying with laughter at the efforts of the pair to overcome each other in the darkness.  The rigid handcuffs and the fact that they were gagged and blind made it all the harder for them.  Portia was marginally stronger, we reckoned, and ultimately we weren’t surprised when Portia finally managed to get the top rope around Jade’s handcuffs.  From there on it was over, as Portia quickly located one of the foot ropes and secured it to Jade’s left ankle, then the same for the right one.  As she pulled hard on it, the lights came on, and the pair were left sweating from their exertions and glaring at each other.  Spitefully, Portia tightened the ropes and mumbled something that was probably highly uncomplimentary.

She went back to the stove where we figured the food was just about heated through in the plastic bag.  She fished it out and opened the bag with difficulty, using a plastic knife, tipping the contents into a plastic bowl before retreating to the bed to sit cross legged next to the spreadeagled figure of her boss.  It was only when she unbuckled the gag harness that everything fell into blackness again, with the tiny red indicator lights appearing along the walls.  Portia muttered something that was evidently uncomplimentary Cantonese about Jade’s behaviour and ancestry, according to Emma, before she began eating her meal in the darkness.  Only when this was finished, and she had found a plastic mug under the sink and drunk from the tap, did she put the gag harness back on again.

The lights came on and she returned to lie down on the mattress and eventually fell asleep, ignoring Jade mmphing plaintively from her stretched position on the platform next to her.

*   *   *

For the next week we explored Los Angeles, doing all the touristy things – Disneyland, Knotts Berry farm, the Queen Mary and the Spruce Goose, the movie studios and live shows.  We had a day down at Tijuana and a visit to San Diego.  In short, it was the holiday we had been planning  - or at least part of it.  Each day we came back and checked up on our two captives, who were barely on speaking terms, as Trish described it with a touch of irony, given their circumstances.  The pair hadn’t come to grips with the fact that they had to depend on each other, not dominate each other.

Their habits were now confused in that they had no light or mechanism to tell the time.  The only contact with the outside world was sensing the sun as it heated the container, and possibly hearing the dawn chorus of birds.  This latter was not possible when the air conditioner was going, however, and temperatures were such that they seemed to need it on most of the time.  As a result, through the need to remain air conditioned and to also keep the fridge and freezer running, they were obliged to wear the gags most of the time.  Sometimes they did take them off and have short conversations in Cantonese, which usually seemed to develop into a bit of a needle, then a screaming match.  Many people think that even normal Cantonese sounds like two cats fighting in a bag, but when you’ve heard two Cantonese women abusing the crap out of each other, you begin to appreciate the mildness of normal speech.

We got them into the habit of being obliged to suffer the ropes on the platform at least once a day, and they managed to at least agree to take this in turns.  However we played one off against the other, for whereas Jade’s turns might run for an hour or two, Portia’s were much shorter, with the result that further tension began to build between them.

After a week of this, we introduced the videos.  These were quite raunchy B&D specials, and we knew several things for certain.  Firstly, they were both bored as hell, and secondly, they both got off on B&D.  Thirdly, of course, their chastity belts made life just a little uncomfortable, especially when combined with the butt plugs they were forced to wear most of the time.

The first time we played one of these was when Jade was bound on the platform.  The video contained a particularly painful scene where a very attractive subbie got her rocks off while being beaten by a domme with a riding crop.  And of course we’d be lying if we denied the timing hadn’t been orchestrated.  Sure enough, between the temptation of the bound Jade, the availability of the vibrator and riding crop, and the access difficulty caused by the chastity belt, it really wasn’t surprising that Portia ended up taking out her own frustrations on Jade’s helpless body.

After that, we showed a couple more films, and Portia finally managed to get herself off under her own steam, while Jade, bound, beaten and forced to listen to both the movies and Portia’s eventual orgasm, moaned and cried into her gag.  Such was daily life in the container.  And, regrettably for Jade, the movies only seemed to come on when she was unable to resist.

*   *   *

We drove up to San Francisco and spent a week there, again doing all the touristy things, while Louise looked after the fort for us.  When we returned, our prisoners were feeling very sorry for themselves, deprived of outside contact for the best part of two weeks, and having to endure the butt plugs and gags for much of their waking and sleeping hours.  Their high-heeled boots, glued and held in place by the steel cuffs were obviously causing discomfort, as were the tight corsets and chastity belts themselves.  I didn’t want to think what the smell might be like in there, and though they seemed to wash regularly with the flannels we had provided, there were clearly some body parts they could not reach.

We decided it was time to break the news to the poor dears that they were appearing on Domme Cam, and judging from the emails we had received, the whole spectacle was being very well received. Of course there were a few Dommes and Doms out there in cyberland who thought the whole thing quite disgraceful and utterly against the culture and principles that we should have been upholding, but for the vast majority, the word was overwhelmingly positive.

We chose a time when the pair were both eating in the dark.  They had their harnesses off and were sitting on the mattress, not talking, even though they were able to.  Jade had just finished her turn on the bike while Portia had cooked, and Jade had as usual complained that Portia had put in too much water to deliberately make it take longer to boil since Jade had to provide the bicycle power to maintain switch closure.  Portia had ignored her, and even though we westerners couldn’t understand the language, we could read the body language, and we thought Jade Wong was becoming very subdued.  It was not just this aspect, but how she was starting to lose her fight against Portia.  Portia was winning the battle of wills between them, and was starting to take control.

All this ceased to be relevant, however, when the television screen burst into life.  It was an appropriately named slave screen to the computer we used in the spare bedroom, in that whatever view we called up on our computer, the same view appeared in the container when we had that feed switched on.  All of us were clustered round the screen when we switched the feed on.  The screen began with an “Email your comments page”.  Here a typical fan had written:

“Your site is the best ever.  Truly wikid.  I don’t know what those two are saying to each other but the psychology is great.  Long may they remain prisoners!”

Another said:

“I am Chinese and understand what they are saying.  These two truly deserve each other.”

And another:

“I have thoroughly enjoyed the last fortnight, seeing these two get what they deserve.”

Under the infrared light, we watched as Jade and Portia stopped eating, their mouths open at what they had read, and now at what they were looking at, namely themselves, sitting on a mattress together, wearing corset, boots and chastity belt, ignominiously handcuffed in a container. 

For a moment they could not work out how their image was so clear, while they were sitting in the dark.  Then the situation dawned on them.

“No! No! No!” Jade screamed, getting awkwardly to her feet and shouting at the screen.  In a fury she threw what remained of her meal at the screen then promptly lost her balance on her high heels on the mattress.  Portia, too, was going just a little mad, abusing the screen and seeing herself acting irrationally.  She snapped something at Jade, who was now in tears, though of course Portia couldn’t tell that in the dark.  She felt around for one of the head harnesses and climbed on top of where Jade was sobbing on the mattress, forcing the ball into her mouth and strapping the harness into place as best she could with her own handcuffed wrists.

Abruptly the lights came on.  Whereas Jade was now sniffling and sobbing, Portia was spewing.  She looked at the screen and worked out from the angle just where the cameras were, tucked up in two of the corners of the container behind small Perspex shields.  Portia raged at the cameras, cursing them with all the invective she could think up, but limiting herself to Cantonese, which she obviously felt more comfortable in and which, to be honest, suited the situation far better.  The  cameras, two and a half metres above the floor, were safely out of reach, and Portia could only shake her cuffed hands impotently at them.

Jade, however, was a shadow of her former self with the realisation that her humiliation had been broadcast to the world for the last two weeks, and would potentially continue to be in the foreseeable future.  She lay and wept on the mattress, seemingly unhindered by the gag now strapped in her mouth but which was providing light and power to the container.

Portia was still going off, however, and dragged Jade to the platform, where she bound her in the inverted Y.  This time she put her full weight into the ropes, and Jade could barely move as Portia began beating her with the riding crop.  Jade was screaming into her gag, trying to writhe under the rain of blows, but she was stretched rigid and helpless.  For a short while I looked anxiously at Monica, wondering if we should go to rescue Jade, but Monica shook her head at my unspoken question.  After fifteen minutes, Portia had exhausted herself in what must have been a very hot and humid container without the air conditioning on.  Finally, sweat streaming down her semi-naked body, she sank down on the bed and was still.

*   *   *

For the next week things became more ordered in the container, not least because Portia had taken over the running of things.  Jade Wong now did all the cycling while Portia chose what would be eaten and did the cooking herself.  Similarly Jade was the one who spent her time on the platform when the trip switch over-rode the system.  

Portia, however, was succumbing to the imprisonment, sinking into a lethargy that saw her sleeping more and more and not bothering about releasing Jade until such time as Portia found it necessary to heat some food – an activity for which she needed assistance.  Only at these times was Jade allowed to wash, use the toilet and share some food as well.  For the rest of the time, when not bound to the platform, she remained meekly awaiting Portia’s instructions, which were mercifully few, given the limited facility for amusement.  Notwithstanding this lack of entertainment, however, Portia was not past providing her own, with both the riding crop and the vibrator, using them freely on her former mistress whether the latter was tied up or not.  Jade had lost her will to resist, and took her abuse as a gagged submissive should, accepting the whippings until Portia would collapse exhausted.

After one such session, we concluded that the time had come to end the protracted torment of the two, and we began to put our plans in place for a strategic withdrawal.  We had purchased our homeward tickets a week previously, knowing that the end was in sight.  That afternoon all the team except Monica and myself boarded an Air New Zealand jet for the homeward trip via Auckland.  Louise had come with us to the airport, and now returned with us to what we called the Jade Garden.

The next day we put a healthy dose of rohypnol in the water tank on the roof of the container, before disconnecting the air conditioner.  It wasn’t long before the prisoners had drunk enough water to put themselves into the land of Nod, and we were able to open the container for the first time in three weeks.  

It was not a nice smell that greeted us.  Portia and Jade were both flaked out across the mattress, allowing us to lock a heavy cable between their collars.  It was only two metres long but with special locks at each end, it would again need cutting gear to remove, for no bolt cutters would get through it.  Further cables secured each collar to eyebolts welded to the steel wall where it was exposed through the timber.  Portia and Jade would not be leaving their home in a hurry.    

It did not take long to disconnect the television set and the air conditioner and toilet, covering up the holes in the wall with plywood screwed to the container interior, but leaving a small gap for air at the top of the air con opening.

The container truck arrived right on time and loaded the container using its side-loading hoists.  Then we were off, the truck following us in the car as we headed inland, then southeast along Highway 15 towards San Diego.  It was nearly lunchtime when we reached the outskirts of San Diego and turned east on to Highway 8.  It took us into Cleveland National Forest wilderness area, where the highway passed amongst rugged mountains close to the Mexican border.

Here we selected an appropriately remote but easily described location, and off-loaded the container, checking the cargo to find them still sleeping.  The container truck driver was sent packing with a thousand bucks in the hand, courtesy of Jade’s petty cash, as we drove back to LA to collect our luggage and say goodbye to Mr Foo and SK, before heading for the airport.  

We stopped off at the domestic terminal to make a call to the police, giving them the precise location of the container and saying we thought it to be full of illegal Mexicans.  Only then did Louise take us to the International terminal to board our flight to Auckland.  We hugged her and swore eternal friendship - as you do.  And in this case I thought that just maybe there was something to it.  Louise had been enormously helpful to us, sparing no effort to get us what we wanted in our time of need.  Without her, we might not have got Monica back.  We were sad to leave her, but already home was calling, and the lure of the quiet back balcony of Bilboes, with the kookaburra calls and the odd possum disturbing the peace, were too much for us.

We took off from LA with mixed feelings, wondering if the San Diego police had found the container yet, or if they had any idea how to release the pair of Chinese women from their collars, chains and handcuffs, let alone the ankle cuffs and bizarre corsets and chastity belts.  I had a feeling, however, that whoever found them would not be really surprised.  This was America, after all.  Most things had been done before.

*   *   *

THE END
 
 

18.09.04