The
interior of the SUV limousine was spacious and plush, to say the least. A
central bench seat stretched the width of the vehicle, with the backrest in the
middle, so that those sitting on it would face opposite directions. Each was
covered with the softest of leather. The armrests were pure walnut. A small bar
occupied the wall opposite the door and the bottles contained the finest wines,
whiskeys and cordials that money could buy. Gentle light glowed from recessed
bulbs in the ceiling and instrumental music came from speakers which were
cleverly hidden in the walls. The windows were frosted in such a way that not
only did they provide total privacy from the outside but the occupants also
could not see anything from the inside.
Megan
Jaffe could see only a small portion of this luxurious atmosphere from her
perch on the rear-facing seat. It was very difficult to move her head much with
the four-inch thick black leather collar holding her head very erect and very
still. The pressure that the top edge exerted against her jaw was exacerbated
by the deep red ball which forced her mouth open nearly to its limit. The black
leather strap, buckled at the back of her neck, ensured that it would not be
expelled.
It would
have been quite simple to manipulate the buckle and yank the gag from between
her lips save for the fact that each wrist was held by a soft but secure
leather cuff and attached to another cuff which encircled the opposite arm just
above the elbow. The tine of each buckle ended in a small loop through which a
minute padlock was secured, meaning that even the most dexterous fingers would
be unable to release them. As an added insult (and wholly unnecessary, in
Megan’s opinion) was the leather strap, which was wrapped around her forearms
where they met halfway up the middle of her back and secured to the back of her
collar. It provided little in the way of restraint, but was already making her
shoulders ache. She did not have enough experience with the current situation
to grasp that this was the strap’s primary purpose.
Her legs
were spread wide by a long bar which had been secured to each ankle by similar
leather cuffs the moment she had been escorted into the limousine. The cuffs
were clipped to the bottom of the seat, which made it difficult for Megan to
lift her feet for a bit of relief. The six-inch heels with wide ankle straps
and narrow, closed toes that had been put on her were pure agony to walk on,
which had been clearly illustrated by the few steps she had already taken in
them. Similar clips attached Megan’s collar to the seat, while a third set of
clips did the same from the belt that encircled her waist.
At that
moment, however, the tight and complete restraint was not foremost in Megan’s
mind. The woman, Ellen, in the seat next to her, occupied her as she deftly
untied the top of Megan’s bathing suit despite her muffled protests that she
did not wish it to be removed.
“Oh,
hush,” Ellen was saying. “Isn’t it obvious I’m not listening?” In the next
moment there was a pull and the small bits of white fabric which had been
covering Megan’s breasts were gone. She flushed red in embarrassment.
That
feeling was compounded as she listed to the two individuals on the seat behind
her. Her friend, Jill Taylor, was bound exactly the same as Megan, or at least
had been only moments before when the two had been led into the vehicle. From
Jill’s grunts, Megan could tell that the gentleman next to her, Ryan, was
working on removing her top as well. After a second or two, a wail of anger
told Megan that both women were very likely naked from the waist up and that
Jill’s top had been casually tossed aside.
***
The day
before had been cool and overcast, with frequent showers, not beach weather at
all. It was obvious early on that alternate entertainment would have to be
found. For a couple of weeks, Jill had expressed interest in heading down to
Red Bay, the more affluent end of the island, to peruse the numerous shops,
galleries, boutiques and vendors of that town. Megan liked the idea. Not that
she could afford to buy much; she had spent the entire year working two
part-time jobs in between a full class load just so she could afford to rent a
room in the beach house this summer, despite the great deal that they had gotten.
She could, however, window shop. She especially wanted to see some of the art
galleries.
Jill,
however, beat her to the punch. “Hey, Meg, don’t you think today would be
perfect to head down to Red Bay?”
“I was
just thinking that! I was going to ask you at breakfast.”
“Let’s do
it! Will you drive?”
“Sure.”
She was the only one of the housemates with a car.
“Let me
get showered and we’re out of here. We’ll get a bagel or something on the way.”
On her
own, Megan brought the idea up to the six remaining housemates at breakfast,
but there was absolutely no enthusiasm among the others. She noticed that a
concoction was already in the blender, so it was easy to understand their
priorities. A few minutes later, Megan and Jill were driving south on the main
drag.
Red Bay
was even more affluent than they had believed.
Delis advertised $11 egg salad sandwiches. Women walked the streets in
Enzo Agonnili sandals. One shop had a change purse
going for $330. It was a different world for them both.
Early in
the afternoon, Jill grabbed Megan’s arm and steered her into the S&M
Gallery, a small building tucked away at the back of a small outdoor shopping
mall off the main strip. Thinking the name to be an accidental coincidence,
Megan nonetheless wanted to see what they offered. She had always had a
slightly more-than-casual interest in art of all types and was eager to get a
feel for the local flavor.
Upon
looking at the first photo, however, Megan knew that the business was
appropriately named. The black-and-white image showed a woman standing in a
stark room, completely naked. Her body was hairless (totally hairless,
Megan noted); her head may have been as well, but it was impossible to tell, as
she wore a black leather hood that revealed her face and nothing else. A huge
ball gag filled her mouth and her arms were pulled over her head by a rope that
disappeared into the unknown. The muscles in her legs were prominently visible,
due in large part to the ridiculously high heels that forced the unknown victim
nearly onto her toes like a ballerina.
The silver
clamps biting into her nipples at least partially explained the look of agony
on her face. The fact that the chain connecting the clamps was being held up
and away from her body by a muscular man clad only in a pair of riding chaps
and Frye boots certainly justified her remaining discomfort. His grin of
superiority was in strong contrast to the look of pain that defined the eyes
above the wide ball parting her lips.
Megan
stared at the image for several minutes (it carried a price tag of $3,300) and
then at Jill, who also had the wide-eyed stare and open mouth of someone wholly
and totally surprised. “Good call on this place,” Megan whispered with a smile
before moving on to the next image, a color picture. This print showed a closer
view of the same woman (she did have hair) looking directly into the camera, a
broad collar holding her head immobile, a wooden bit pulled so tightly into her
mouth that her cheeks bulged slightly around the strap as it disappeared behind
her head. A gloved hand extended from the foreground, gripping her lower face
as though the woman was a possession to be manhandled.
The images
went on and on in this vein as the two women moved separately throughout the
display. They were all signed with the same name, “ryel.”
Megan could feel her body temperature rising and was thankful that Jill
appeared as entranced by the images so that she could not sense her arousal.
The pictures radiated sexual heat. There was something about the interaction of
the two characters that suggested deep intimacy (as if standing naked,
bound, and gagged in front of someone wasn’t intimate enough! Megan thought
with a short laugh to herself) that went beyond posing for an erotic picture.
More than interested, she was getting turned on. She could feel charges of
electricity between her legs and her nipples were standing out clearly against
the thin fabric of her summer shirt. She decided that, before she drove her
fingers under her shorts to take care of those sensations, it was time for them
to go. She turned to talk to Jill and found her speaking with ... the woman in
the pictures.
“Hello,”
the woman said pleasantly as she turned slightly away from Jill. “Are you
enjoying our work as well?” Even more stunning in person, at about 5’9” and in
her mid 30’s, she radiated confident sexuality. Her
brown hair was longer than it had been in her pictures, it hung below her
shoulders. She had rich green eyes and a friendly smile that nonetheless
managed to be sexual. Several seconds passed before Megan’s brain computed that
a question had been asked and that she was expected to provide an answer.
“Yes, I
am,” she managed to stammer. The woman’s smile intensified with polite
tolerance as Megan flushed a deep shade of crimson. Right behind her were
dozens of images of this woman with little or no clothing, involved in deeply
personal situations. Her buxom body was modestly covered in a casual outfit,
but her naked form appeared to Megan for the briefest instant before she
regained a degree of composure.
“I’m
sorry,” she said. “I ... well, it’s just that I recognized you from the
pictures and I was just a little embarrassed. “
“Oh,
please don’t be. I’m very proud of my work. My name is Ellen. The gentleman in
the picture is my husband, Ryan.” Ah, Megan thought, the signature on
the art. Jill had evidently already introduced herself. The two women shook
hands and Ellen invited them to stay for tea.
“So,”
Ellen asked after usual pleasantries had been exchanged and the herbal brew had
been poured, “I always like to interrogate people who seem to enjoy our images.
What draws you to them?”
Jill
answered first, telling Ellen how sensual the photos were and how the light did
this and that and why the graphic symmetry was so strong and so on. Megan barely
heard Jill as she considered Ellen’s question in her own way. She had never
been so excited by mere erotica or even pornography, especially that of a
woman. Certainly, both Ellen and Ryan had exceptional bodies, but that seemed
off the mark. She thought about the pictures that she had lingered over,
searching for a common theme. Most of them had been close up, clearly showing
one or both faces, which seemed to be important. Each time Ellen’s face had
been visible, she had appeared in pain. But it was more than that. There had
been elements of trust, fear, humiliation and even hatred in her eyes. That was
it. Ellen’s expression spoke of giving up control, either willfully or not and
knowing that Ryan had the ability to apply pain or give pleasure at his
discretion. She felt beneath him because of her helplessness and was even angry
with him for making her so helpless. At the opposite end of the spectrum, Ryan
evoked confidence to the point of arrogance, daring his tied and gagged victim
to attempt to defy him in even the smallest way.
When Jill
finished, Megan tried to convey this idea. It took her some time to express
these thoughts to Ellen, who nodded continuously as if she knew where the
answer lay and was waiting patiently for her new pupil to get there. During
that time, Ryan entered the shop. There were brief introductions before he
disappeared into the back of the studio.
“Does that
make any sense?” Megan asked at the end of her halting diatribe. She wondered
what she was doing, discussing these things with a woman she didn’t even know. What
the hell, she thought, I’m 20 years old. Live a little.
“Dear, it
most certainly does. I have to ask you, did they excite you?” A tiny voice
wondered why Ellen seemed fixated more on her than on Jill, but other thoughts
were entirely too loud and blocked that question. Ellen’s stared intently at
Megan as she awaited an answer, making her want to dive under the table. But
she couldn’t do that and she figured that Ellen probably knew the answer
anyway. She nodded, unable to find her voice. Jill did the same.
From
nowhere, Ellen produced an ivory envelope. “I figured they did. There’s no
reason to be embarrassed about that. If you are interested in learning a little
more, I’d like to offer you an invitation to a get-together Ryan and I will be
hosting tomorrow night.” She handed over the invitation.
“The event
is casual attire – we are not a pretentious group. We recommend a bikini so
that you can enjoy the pool if you’d like, but with a modest blouse and skirt
or sarong as cover. However, I want to be very clear; these parties –
especially for those attending their first time – do not consist of what you
would consider casual interaction. There will be demonstrations which relate
directly to the work you see here and not everyone is comfortable with such
things. Your physical person as well as your reputation and emotional
well-being will not be in danger, but, as far as we are concerned, by accepting
our invitation, you are consenting to view and possibly engage in these
activities. You may lose some basic physical freedoms from the moment you enter
the door until the moment you are permitted to leave and, although you will
have the right to halt anything that happens, it is something not everyone is
comfortable with. If you are not comfortable with this aspect of the evening, I
suggest you do not attend.”
Megan sat
across the table, gulping air as she read between the lines. Could she go?
Could she not go? What was Jill thinking? Megan’s kinkiest encounter to date had
been being handcuffed and blindfolded at her sorority initiation. That had
excited her, but she had written it off to nerves because of the event. Now she
had received an invitation to a party where she might be restrained and – who
knew what else would happen to her? Could she trust this woman? Could she trust
the people that would be at this party? She didn’t know what to do.
Ellen cut
short the reverie. “I’ve told you everything you need to know. The rest of the
information is in the invitation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we have to close
for the day.” Megan and Jill suddenly found themselves standing on the
sidewalk, listening to the door being locked behind them.
“Holy
shit,” Megan breathed. She looked at Jill, who said nothing. Her entire face
was a blunt question. “Did that just happen? Did we just get invited to a
bondage sex party?”