Bondagium & Disciplinare
Tegan & Bindan Mfg.
“Ya ever been inside?”
“Nah, but I think they make nuts and bolts or somethin’ ”
“Yeah, I asked one of the girls who works there what they made. She said fasteners.”
“Ah, kinda funny how many women they got workin’ there‑makin’ nuts and bolts …”
The whistle blew and the two hard hats returned to work. Work at Tegan & Bindan continued in all the departments of the multi-faceted manufactory. The craftsmen in furniture, the blacksmith, the leather workers led by the curmudgeonly Armenian tailor, who seemed to rival the pyramids in age, worked through lunch to fill a special order. Quality control was ongoing with constant testing and experimentation with new designs as well as the stock items that were only made to order. The quality control staff was exclusively female and worked tirelessly to inspect and test each item before it was sold to a very exclusive clientele. The big commercial orders were hard on the all-female staff, but then so were the single special orders because of their unique nature, which required extensive long-term testing before delivery.
Tegan & Bindan Mfg. shared a seedy waterfront area some distance from a marina studded with a forest of blue masted sailboats. It was clustered with other small factories and industrial enterprises including a ship’s chandlery, sail maker and a marine hardware supply. It was the largest and last in a long row of connected shops and offices, but set apart some hundred yards from the others. They had a good-sized staff, mostly young women, as well as artisans and craftsmen in various areas of specialisation. Their parking lot was generally full by eight in the morning and, although most of the staff left at four or four thirty, many worked late and upstairs, lights could often be seen burning into the small hours. The mechanical engineers, untoward numbers of the female inspection and quality control department and the indefatigable old tailor worked late habitually.
During the day raw material arrived at one end of the building and finished products exited from the other in a continuing process of industry and transformation shrouded by the drab exterior and its corrugated tin roof. Exotic hardwoods, fine leather skins, even iron and steel, chain and hardware arrived in modest amounts while wooden crates and small packages of merchandise left with regularity. The brown UPS truck made daily calls, delivering and picking up at each end of the building. Neither the freight office nor the delivery bay was unusual although some of the items delivered to a fastener manufacturer were curious. The medical supply houses frequently delivered small packages and large crates with equipment and furnishings that Tegan & Bindan Mfg. modified and customised for their customers. The business office was unmarked and unremarkable. Should someone have stumbled upon it by chance, a young woman behind a small counter would courteously give directions, usually to another building, because the business office of Tegan & Bindan conducted no business.
There were two employee entrances, also not marked, but remarkable in that one was for males and the other for females. The doors were alike but the men’s door simply opened to a hallway leading to the central part of the building where the speciality shops were. The female entrance was more complex. It opened to a short hall and another door behind which were a series of connected rooms that included dressing rooms, clinical looking bathing facilities and several other rooms dedicated to the particular needs of women staff members employed by Tegan & Bindan. There was a customer’s entrance, unmarked as well, with an automatic door nearly as big as the delivery door. It accommodated automobiles with space inside for half a dozen cars to park. The actual business office was accessible inside the garage and known only to the private clients which were the only type of clients Tegan & Bindan had.
The office was totally out of character for the building and the district. Once inside the steel fire door and through a small uninspired foyer, it opened into an opulent space as well appointed as any executive office found in the business capitals of the world. It was like a small hotel lobby with groupings of fine furniture discreetly segregated from one another to afford privacy by space rather than with walls. Each of the six arrangements of furnishings had its own phone as well as a silver tray holding crystal sherry and port bottles and a cedar cigar box well stocked with Cubans. Plush carpeting created a quiet environment that was as subdued and rich as its understated elegance. An elegant young woman, as well dressed and refined as the space she occupied, sat behind a high semi-circular mahogany desk with a bank of phones that chimed instead of ringing or chirping. It was not a busy place, but one of quiet purpose that catered to Tegan & Bindan customers in a personal and private way, as most of them expected. Celebrities from nearby Los Angeles were not infrequent visitors. Sports figures, politicians and even heads of government, usually military, from Asia, Latin America and the Middle East were regular customers. High position was not a guarantee of good manners or discretion, however. Those who felt they needed an entourage or wanted to arrive in limousines were tactfully discouraged since Tegan & Bindan preferred not to draw attention.
Ingrid Morrison had worked for Tegan & Bindan for over six years. Just turned thirty, she was among the oldest and most senior of the female staff. Her seniority permitted her to choose, within limits, any of the jobs allocated to women. Hence, Ingrid sat behind the mahogany desk in customer reception. Impeccably groomed and made up, her stylishly tailored skirt and blouse set off her trim figure attractively. Her long slim legs seemed to travel for miles beneath the hem of her short skirt. High jaunty breasts spiked her nipples into the resilient silk of her blouse without the aid of a bra while the constant caress of the fabric on the bare nubs made them jut stiffly into her blouse in pronounced tumescence that Ingrid found irritating and stimulating at the same time. That pleasant ache kept her constantly aware of her breasts with a subterranean emotionality that struggled uselessly against the fierce instruments of external influence. Ingrid had been subject to those instruments for six years; now she couldn’t do without them. She dithered over what department she would choose for her next regular monthly rotation. She could remain in customer reception, but in a different capacity or she might choose the demanding job of testing equipment in one of the shops.
he glanced at Stephanie sitting alongside her desk on one of the chairs Tegan & Bindan made. Called the penitent’s chair, its function could only be observed when Stephanie rose to greet and wait on customers. Ingrid imagined herself in the chair, wearing the costume Stephanie wore for her month-long role as a soubrette. It was not an altogether unpleasant idea although it didn’t have the diversity of working in one of the shops. One never knew what would be required from one day to the next in the speciality shops. Some testing required overnight stays and the job was always varied and interesting, although it was hard work, to be sure. She even considered the blacksmith’s shop where all new girls were assigned. It was considered the most arduous and demanding job in the company. That’s why new employees were assigned there; if they could get through their first six weeks in steel, as it was called, they were considered promising for long term employment. They were still required to serve in a probationary capacity for a year and the steel shop was never short of female staff both because of the newly hired girls and those who returned from nostalgia or to prove their mettle to themselves and others. Ingrid shivered slightly as she deliciously considered a month in steel.
The phone chimed into her reverie. Ingrid made an appointment for a regular client, sewing machines buzzed to life in leather, steel rang with hammer blows and forges glowed devilishly hot, saws screamed in furnishings ‑ and another day of production began at Tegan & Bindan.
The last of the quality control girls emerged from the women’s entrance and trudged upstairs in the company uniform. She was naked except for towering high heels and steel leg-irons. A wide leather belt cinched tightly around her waist held her leather cuffed wrists above and behind her hips with her palms turned out. Methodically and slowly she mounted each step, pulling the chain between her fettered ankles tight as she placed one high heel clad foot on the next tread and then brought her other foot up with the chain clinking softly as it slackened between her ankles. She teetered down the hallway, tapping staccato rhythm to her clinking ankle chain with her stilted high-heeled gait as fast as she could and skittered into the assignment room to join the rest of the quality control staff.
Twenty-one young women stood in two long ranks facing a podium with high windows behind. Each wore the same outfit, with slight variation, and each stood in posture resembling parade rest. With their wrists positioned as they were, their elbows jutted out to the sides and they exaggerated their posture by bracing their shoulders, elevating their rib cages and proffering their breasts in an attractive parade of womanly pulchritude. Holding the chain between their ankle fetters taut by spreading their legs to the extent the chain permitted, they stood chests out, chins up, paying rapt attention to the assignments being handed out. As soon as they were made the girls broke ranks and formed new lines against respective walls that corresponded to the day’s assignments. When three groups of seven stood facing the walls labelled with shop names, keeping the same posture, but with their foreheads, breasts, bellies, thighs and the toes of their shoes right into the wall; the shop stewards stepped behind them locking steel rings around their necks. Loops formed at the front and back of the neck-rings accommodated snap links and one at a time the girls were turned from the wall to stand one behind the other while the stewards snapped short chains between their neck-rings. The shortness of the chains caused them to stand quite close together. When the hair of the girl in front was moved to fit the snap-ring at the back of her neck, it brushed the face of the girl brought to stand behind. When all seven girls in each line stood chained together, they touched. Breasts lightly brushed the back of the girl in front, nipples pressed to her shoulder blades. Pubic thatches of those who weren’t shaved nestled lightly in the cleft of the jutting buttocks ahead. Except for the girl in the front of each line, all any of the girls could do was stare at the long hair in front of her.
Ingrid heard the cadenced rhythm of heels drumming the floor above her. The scrape of ankle chains on the wood floor made a metallic rattling drone beneath the measured tap of high heels as the quality control teams made their chained way to the inspection rooms. Ingrid had made that morning muster and chained jaunt every day for years until she had the seniority to bid for other jobs. The familiar noise vicariously induced mental and physical images in memory as she sat at her desk in reception. It had taken weeks to learn how to stay in step and move properly with the warm nakedness of another girl pressing close front and back. Since she was of average height, she was never posted at the front or back of the line as the lines were always formed in height order. At the order to place hands on hips, since their wrists were already strapped holding their palms out behind their own hips the order was the signal to move up close and place their hip bones in the palms of the girl ahead. This of course caused them to stand nestled together, touching from hips to breasts into the girl ahead and, with the hips of the girl behind in her palms, they could feel the pubic thatch of the girl behind in the cleft of their buttocks and her naked breasts and belly at their backs. Ingrid recalled that warm intimacy with the other girls nostalgically. In an undulating line of closely pressed flesh, like a long-legged centipede, they had marched in fettered precision unmatched by any military drill team down the long halls to their particular daily venues. With the clean smelling hair of the girl before her inches in front of her face and with her hips pressed forward into her hands, Ingrid felt every motion of the girl’s naked body with her own, while the girl behind, who Ingrid could feel moving in co-ordination with her palms, buttocks and back, pressed warmly into her. literally breathing down her neck. Thighs touching and rubbing at each short step while moving in fettered restraint without tangling their feet took a good deal of practice. They practised twice a day. The sheer physical warmth of naked proximity and the added heat of exertion always had the girls excited and ready for another day of work in steel, leather, or furnishings when they finally arrived at the various testing rooms.
Ingrid remembered the feeling with a quick little shudder of ecstasy. Just the delicious memory of that early morning bondage, even the weight and restriction of the leg-irons turned her liquid between her thighs. She thought she might work steel next month just to feel the excitement of that erotic coffle once more; it had been nearly a year.
The phone chimed, another soft bell announced an arrival at the client’s entrance and Ingrid and Stephanie began the day’s business in earnest.
Ingrid attempted to explain the workings of a custom-made frame to a client on the phone while Stephanie rose to open the door. Glancing at the empty chair, Ingrid took note of the length and girth of the phallus rising from the seat. Its gentle curve glistened with lubricant, as did the rift in Stephanie’s buttocks at the bottom of her rear cheeks between the rounded luxuriant ripple of her buttocks and thighs as she made her way to the door. Ingrid thought the abbreviated skirt of her French maid’s outfit was a bit much, but had to admit she looked cute in it. She imagined the feel of that phallus dilating her own anus and riving her rectum. She could feel the length and girth filling her to the point of discomfort‑the point that always evoked exciting and sensual feelings. On a busy day, she knew that a girl appointed to the chair could rise and re-seat herself more than a dozen times. She knew the feeling of emptiness and the way her anus would gape for some minutes after she stood. She also knew the feeling of satisfying impalement she would feel as she returned to the seat spreading her bottom cheeks with her hands while she lowered herself back down on its imposing erectness. Ingrid loved that chair; the way it filled her bowels, stretched her anus open and made her sit bolt upright like a rigid doll on its hard spiky seat. One did indeed feel penitent after spending a day on that chair. Ingrid watched the expression of concentration on Stephanie’s face as her brow furrowed and she bit her lip while holding her bottom cheeks apart as she eased back down on the phallus until it disappeared and she sat firmly on the studded seat. She actually looked blissful.
Ingrid had to make an appointment with the man on the phone. He wasn’t mechanical and certain features of his bondage frame were beyond his grasp. When she hung up, the customer Stephanie had admitted stepped to her desk. He had come to pick up a tailored arm binder and matching hood. Ingrid pulled its long white box from under the desk and opened it for him. His eyes feasted on the supple leather and laces of the matching pair. They had been custom fit to his wife’s arms and head; there could be no question of fit. She had come in for half a dozen fittings as the garments had been cut and sewn. The old tailor was a master of his craft and it had fit her perfectly and kept her helplessly restrained at her last fitting. He had kept it merely to finish adding the last straps and buckles and to have it boned at the elongated neck piece so she would have to keep her head erect when wearing it; which would be frequently if the look in her husband’s eyes said anything. Ingrid re-wrapped it in tissue and closed the box. He left with effusive thanks ‑ Stephanie rose again to see him to the door.
It was nearly time for one of their regular customers to arrive with his lady friend; she was due for another fitting with the tailor, steel, and a custom-made chair waited in the fitting-room as well. They were an odd couple. He was seven feet tall and weighed upwards of three hundred pounds. She was not diminutive, but next to him, even a tall girl would have been dwarfed. Ingrid forgot exactly what he did, basketball or football, she wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, he was a multimillion-dollar player for one of the local professional teams. She had been one of the young cheerleaders for the team; beautiful and athletic in her own right with ambitions to be a dancer or actress in the town full of young women as attractive and talented as she was. Initially, she had merely been in awe of his stature and demeanour. His sheer size was awe-inspiring. His dusky complexion and Negroid features added a look of savagery that made him irresistible to a middle class white girl. She had discovered how huge he really was the first time she had gone out with him. After an expensive dinner in one of the places to be seen, he had simply driven her to his apartment where she was again in awe of all the things a multi-millionaire could afford. With neither ceremony nor preliminaries, he had ordered her to strip in the living room. She did. And he took her hand in a giant paw leading her into his bedroom. He put her on her knees facing him on the bed and presented her with what looked like a black fire hose. By morning she had tasted him and taken him between her legs numerous times to discover that she was multi-orgasmic and he was insatiable. She had moved in shortly thereafter, quitting her job to learn a new one under his demanding tutelage. He brought her regularly to Tegan & Bindan where he spent tens of thousands of dollars on specialised equipment, devices and clothing for her instruction and education. She learned well.