Monica's Place
CHAPTER TWELVE: SHANNEN'S STORY - DAY FOUR
Day 4. At least I think it is. Today I was woken from darkness by Trish,
wearing a short-sleeved black lycra leotard and a maroon skirt of the same
material, which clung to her thighs and butt. She was dressed to kill in black
tights and boots. Unfortunately the look she gave me suggested that I was to be
the victim. My wrists were crossed and bound behind me and my ankles were freed
only long enough to perform my ablutions. Then it was on with a hobble rope
while a rope connecting my crossed wrists was pulled tightly through my crotch
before being secured around my waist. I was still half-asleep, with no idea
what time it was. It seemed like the middle of the night. The tape was pulled
from my mouth most unceremoniously and a sort of padded ring was forced upright
between my teeth, secured by a wide strap around the back of my neck. It had
the effect of holding my jaw open while not trapping my tongue. I found I could
almost talk, even if I couldn't form some consonants very well.
"Ot are oo ooing? Ot's aaening?" I asked. Trish was obviously grumpy and
her response was to screw a kind of tight-fitting cork into the mouth ring.
That shut me up pretty effectively. My muscles were protesting as I was pushed
out of the cell ahead of a riding crop that Trish did not hold back from using.
She pushed me down the corridor outside, which was lit only by red nightlights
near floor level. At the end of the corridor she opened a door and I was shoved
inside. I looked around. It was some sort of observation or monitoring room, I
reckoned, with windows on 3 sides, but there was only darkness beyond. Trish
pushed me on to a chair and turned to glare at me.
"You still haven't learned, have you?"
"Unnh?" I said. She pulled some pages of writing out of the waistband of
her skirt and flung them at me. I recognised them as my scribbles from last
night. I had no idea what she was on about.
"You haven't learned that things you write get other people hurt - other
people who have tried to be kind to you, to make your life a bit easier." My
blank look must have still shown through. "You don't think about what you do,
Shannen. You don't think things through or consider the consequences. Your
description of your time with Steven yesterday. He took pity on you first by
leaving your nipple clamps off for much of the time and then by letting you have
a brief bit of pleasure with the vibrator and then having the gag out. And of
course you have to blab about the whole episode! Who do you think reads this?
Monica, of course! You ought to know by now that what Monica says, goes. Her
word is law in this house. Steven is a lovely guy - we all have a soft spot for
him. Unfortunately he's now suffering for your stupidity."
With a dramatic flourish she switched off the light in our room and flicked
another switch. The room next door came into focus. A single light bulb
illuminated a solitary figure in the centre of the room.
My heart sank. Central to the room were two solid timber posts about the
thickness of a man's thigh. Standing between them was Steven, motionless. His
arms appeared to be bound behind him, and he was held in position by the same
diabolical method that I had suffered in my forays up and down the drive. A
thin rope was tied to a stainless steel clamp on each nipple, which ran through
a brass ring at each end of a bit gag before being tied off high up on each
post. Steven could not turn his head or move in any direction without an
opposite reaction being transmitted through those cruel clamps. He was
blindfolded with a harness sporting two eyepads, and his ankles, placed about a
metre apart, were chained to the posts.
"He's been there for nearly two hours," Trish told me. "It isn't difficult
to overpower someone at three in the morning when he's asleep. And it's all
because of you, Shannen." I swallowed. "Now you're going to make it up to him.
It will be up to you to figure out how - that's your problem. But just so you
remember why he's there, it's only fair that you should experience what you
missed out on yesterday while you were doing your pony show." She reached into
a drawers and pulled out a pair of those horrid adjustable clamps that look like
miniature nut crackers. I tried to back away but she grabbed me fiercely by the
hair and placed the evil implements on my nips. I was whining away into my gag
as the pain began, but I upped an octave when she hung a lead ball the size of a
walnut on each.
She pushed me to the door and thence to the adjacent room. There she pulled
the plug out of my ring gag and left me to my own devices. Freed of much of my
speech restriction I begged her:
"Ease ake ees oh! Ey ur o uch! O ease ish!" By that time I was weeping
with the pain and talking to the back of the closed door. Sniffling and sobbing
I turned to Steven, who was now standing more alertly, trying to work out what
was going on. I moved towards him, whimpering as the weights swung from my
tortured nipples. As I got closer I realised that he wore the exact gag I had
worn the previous day. Somebody obviously had a penchant for irony. I then
noticed something behind him, and saw to my dismay that he was impaled on a rod
bolted to the floor. About a metre behind him the rod was fixed to a floor
plate, and extended at 45 degrees before terminating in - I suspected - a nasty
butt plug. Secured by the ankles and nipples he was unable to move. I also
noticed, aghast, that a wire was taped to the rod and disappeared into the butt
plug. I could now see that his hands had been crossed and bound high between
his shoulder blades, the supporting ropes looping over his shoulders, under his
armpits to return and be tied to the wrists again. Steven was stretched taut
and immobile. He was breathing hard, but I couldn't hear that above my own
racket.
"O e-en! I o orri! Eerri I anh! I e-er ort..." It probably made no sense at
all to a listener. God, what could I do? I was standing, trying to think when
there was a faint humming and Steven jerked suddenly, making a high-pitched cry
through his nose. He was brought up short by the nipple clamps and I knew at
that point that the butt plug inside him was somehow being zapped with
electricity. There was another hum, another strangled cry and more jerking.
In desperation I moved across to the rod and looked at the wire. At the
lower end it disappeared into a hole in the floor. In the hope of pulling it
free, I squatted, trying to get hold of it, but my hands were pulled too tightly
into my bum and I couldn't reach down far enough. Reluctantly I sat down with a
thud, screaming as the heavy weights tugged hard on my nipples. But at least I
was down. I grasped the wire and pulled, crying out again as the weights swayed
and bounced, but the wretched thing would not come loose. My only other hope
was to pull it out from the butt plug, hoping that it was the usual cheap
Chinese equipment made for speed not for comfort or durability. I struggled to
my feet again, tears still streaming down my face while I made incomprehensible
noises through the ring. I straddled the rod and backed up its length until I
reached the upper end of the wire. I bumped Steven gently, eliciting a muffled
grunt. His skin was dripping with sweat. God I felt awful. I had never
thought I could cause this sort of thing to happen to another human being, much
less be forced to witness it. I grasped the wires and pulled with my whole
body. It came free, as the same time as the lead weights tried to go into
orbit.
I screamed again and hunkered down on my haunches, trying to support the
balls on my thighs - anything to relieve the agony of my nipples. I sobbed and
cried from the pain, fully aware of what he must have gone through against the
terrible spasms of the electricity. How could these people do this to one of
their own? How could I possibly make this up to him? What had Trish been
suggesting? Think, Shannen, think!
I wondered if somehow I could free him. I stood up again, very slowly this
time, groaning as the weights took hold. I moved around to the front of him.
His ankle cuffs appeared to be locked on and the chains padlocked to the posts.
Not much future there. Maybe I could get the nipple clamps off somehow... I
moved up against him, feeling the warmth of his body and finding myself unable
to help admiring the slender but muscular body. We were about the same height
and I backed against him to see if I could reach the clamps with my hands.
Alas, bound as they were, my hands could get no higher than waist height, while
at the same time giving me a charge on the rope between my legs. As I dropped
my hands from straining, I could not help brushing his dick. It seemed to react
momentarily, leading me to caress it gently. Perhaps my hands were at least in
the right place for something. In no time, it seemed, Steven was aroused and I
was surprised, to say the least, at what he had to show, but it was still very
awkward with my hands crossed and tied as they were.
The solution was obvious, I suppose, but the thought of more pain was
something that I recoiled from. Gingerly I turned around and moved my tongue
over his nipples where they were trapped in the jaws of the clamps. I wished I
had use of my own jaws and teeth so that I could perhaps remove those terrible
devices. I licked some more, eliciting a groan from him and feeling his
hardness between my own legs. But this groan was something different, and
suddenly I became as randy as all hell. If only this damned rope wasn't
embedded in my crotch. I thrust against him, trying to ignore the pain in my
breasts. I knew it wasn't going to work this way, but his dick was like a
flagpole that I couldn't ignore. I squatted again, finally getting on my knees
with much distress, but finding the object of my desire rigid in front of me.
Carefully I put my mouth over it, finding it just fitted inside the ring with
nothing to spare. Steven groaned again and the whole game was on.
It goes without saying that this was the most careful but painful act of its
kind that I have ever carried out. Now, I consider myself pretty good at most
things I attempt, and this is one of them. Steven was incredibly aroused,
however, straining in every muscle yet barely able to move. As he approached a
climax his hips began to move, and I knew at the same time that he must be
getting screwed in the arse in a major way. Not that that was necessarily a bad
thing, of course, but each to their own. He came with a ferocity I couldn't
believe, as I half gagged on the ejaculation into my mouth. It seemed to be
Shannen's week for mouthing off. I felt the heat rising from the ropes in my
pussy and reckoned I was not so far off it myself. As he shuddered and jerked I
think we both felt the terrible hurt in our nipples, which in this one instance
seemed to heighten every sensation such that we both groaned desperately through
our respective mouth fillings, before everything gradually subsided. I had not
succeeded in my quest, and in fact knew that Steven would now be feeling a
heightened pain in his nipples as the blood retreated from his spent loins to
return to the points of agony. His moans told me I was right.
I stood up slowly, only now wondering if I could use his hands to any
advantage. I moved behind him and nuzzled up to his back, realising as I did so
that he could reach the tormentors hanging from my tits. It was difficult for
him with his hands pointing upward but eventually I managed to manoeuvre one of
the clamps between his fingers. He squeezed the grips and the hated object
slipped to the floor while I gasped and cried as the pain knifed through my
breast. Gritting my teeth into the ring I repeated the process and screamed as
the other one fell away. I was crying again, big sook that I was. So much for
Shannen the hard girl. But I was on a roll now. I turned around and nuzzled
the back of my head against his hands. After several goes he managed to undo
the buckle of the gag, but so solidly was it wedged behind my teeth that I had
it turn around again for him to tug it out. I don't think I have ever been so
relieved in my life - relieved that I could close my jaw, relieved that I my
breasts were no longer being tortured, and relieved that I could say I was sorry
to Steven.
The most immediate thing I could do was to now use my teeth to rid Steven of
the nipple vices, which, after several (no doubt painful) attempts, I managed.
He was now able to move much more freely, and more importantly, was able to bend
over, albeit unable to ease himself off the terrible butt plug. But bent over
as he was, I could then reach his gag and blindfold harness, along with the
ropes binding his wrists and arms. It took a few minutes to undo these, after
which he returned the favour to me, undoing my wrists and allowing me to remove
the teasing rope through my pussy.
About this stage, as we now talked in whispers, comforting each other and
apologising, I noticed he was growing hard again. We were oblivious to Trish or
anyone else who might be watching as I hugged Steven and wrapped my legs around
his body, supporting myself on the dreadful rod behind him. I must have
climaxed a couple of times in as many minutes, ignoring the ache in my tits as
they pressed into his chest and his arms encircled me. In my selfishness I
blotted out the fact that he was still impaled himself, just as I impaled myself
on him. It was one of those fierce, intensely physical, rampaging moments when
the world disappears and you both loose yourselves in hoarse cries and a mixture
of pain and pleasure so great you think you're going to die.
I was crying again - but I couldn't help myself and it had nothing to do
with the pain. Then Trish appeared, smiling this time and unlocking Steven's
chains. She whispered something to him and after he gingerly disengaged himself
from the plug he picked me up and carried me to one of the upstairs bedrooms.
It was stunning in decoration but I was too exhausted to notice.
I have no idea what the time is now. It's perhaps late afternoon. I slept
most of the day in the gorgeously soft bed, then luxuriated in the old fashioned
bath in the ensuite, amidst a host of oils and fragrances. This was obviously
the lighter side of the business in the house. Food had appeared on the bedside
table sometime during the day, which I scoffed - I was so-oo hungry. What a joy
it was to be freed of fetters and gags and intruding devices. That said, I
found a wide variety of the latter in the bedside drawer, and with the memory of
the episode with Steven an exhausted blur in some far-off dungeon, I confess I
tried out several of the toys. And of course there was the obligatory story
line to run, so here I am, writing for the first time without being contorted
into some uncomfortable position.
I sense the end of the ordeal. And of course at such a denouement there
always has to be a moral. I'm not one for cliched endings. In this case it's
pretty simple.
Dear All,
Thanks. Point taken.
Shannen.
Postscript by Steven:
We waved goodbye to Shannen that evening. She was wearing the same black
high heels she had arrived in, which were now somewhat the worse for wear. The
rest of her clothes had long since died. She looked stunning in simple emerald
green sheath dress that Monica donated. Monica told me with a grin that Shannen
was also wearing a crotch strap with a vibrator fitted. More specifically, the
buckles were locked on with two small combination locks, the vibrator was
operating and could not be turned off, and the belts were threaded through with
a stainless steel trace from a fishing tackle shop. In short, it was not
something you would be able to cut off without the right hardware, which it was
doubtful Shannen would have in her no doubt trendy apartment. The combinations
to the locks were being delivered by express post, I was told.
Shannen was looking just a little flushed as she gave me a lingering kiss
before descending the front steps to her car.
"You really are a pack of bitches," she said with a smile. "Maybe I'll come
back for a visit sometime."
