Chapter One

“AIR DISASTER. 91 DEAD.” So proclaimed the headlines that marked the end of a pattern in the lives of two young people. Timothy Lawrence and Laura Richardson were cousins, he seventeen and she sixteen years old. Their parents had arranged to make up a foursome for an early holiday in Spain whilst their respective offspring, only children, went on their own holidays.

Laura had joined a pony trek and Timothy a sailing cruise in the cutter ‘Cormorant’ down the south coast.

One night Timothy awoke with a start; he seemed to have an impression of a terrible impact and he felt uneasy. Yet there were only the normal night’s sounds at sea, the lapping of waves along the sides, and the creak of spars. Nevertheless, he swung his legs from his bunk and quickly climbed the companionway. All appeared well; the ‘Cormorant’ was rustling along under all plain sails with a light breeze. He saw the glow of Commander Bob’s pipe by the tiller. The pipe moved.

“Anything wrong, lad?”

“I thought we hit something.” Timothy shivered in the cold night breeze.

“I’ll turn in again then.”

They entered Brixham Harbour for supplies next day. The Harbour Master met them with a grave face. He spoke to Commander Bob, who called Timothy over to them. Timothy noticed the strange inflection in his voice. The Harbour Master was direct.

“I’m afraid I’ve some very bad news for you. There has been an air crash. Your father and mother were killed.” Timothy was numbed, it seemed unreal. “What happened?”

“A crash in the Pyrenees, they don’t know why yet.” Commander Bob took Timothy’s arm. “Come below and we’ll have a tot of rum.”

The cousins’ only close surviving relative was their aunt, Miss Diana Quick. Though only thirty-six, she had a very wide experience of the world, having worked as a nurse, an air hostess and then qualified as a dental surgeon. She had a practice in Penzance, Cornwall, where she lived in a flat above the surgery. She had lost the pilot she loved, in the war and had never married.

She offered to look after Laura and Timothy and, as a first step, invited them to stay with her in Cornwall for the rest of the holidays.

As Laura had to come down from Scotland, it was agreed that Timothy should meet her train at Kings Cross. They had not seen each other for five years so Laura said that she would wear a pink rose.

The sun was glinting yellow through the glass roof of the station as Timothy waited for the ‘Flying Scot’ to draw in. At last it jerked to a halt and Timothy began to walk along its length, starting at the engine to make sure that he would not miss Laura. Doors were flung open and porters scurried in and out. A girl stepped from an open door just in front of him. She wore a tightly belted white riding mackintosh and on her bosom was pinned a pink rose, glowing against the smooth ivory surface of the stiff material which enfolded her beautiful high breasts. Timothy cried, “Laura,” and held out his hand.

She saw him and smiled, her grey eyes sparkling. Putting down the light case she carried, she took his hand in a firm grasp with her small brown one. “Hallo Timothy, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks, how are you?”

“Very well, thank you.”

There was a slight pause - Timothy saw a tall, slim girl with short curly hair lying as black as jet against her mac collar. She had broad, delicately curved cheek bones and a wide, generous mouth that revealed rather irregular teeth when she smiled. Timothy was charmed by her appearance; she was wearing knee-high boots of black patent leather with fairly high Western heels. These boots had become very fashionable and he thought how attractive they were, with their tall shiny tops disappearing under the skirts of her mac.

Laura saw a slightly built but lithe boy, with a deeply tanned face, topped by a mop of wavy golden hair. His features were fine and his blue eyes were steady. He gave an impression of athletic grace in his blue polo-necked sweater and fawn cavalry twill slacks, falling over smooth brown Chelsea boots.

“Let me take your case.”

“No, it’s all right; you’ve got a kit-bag already.”

“No, of course I’ll take it, it’ll balance me anyway,” he smiled.

As they walked down to the ticket barrier he asked, “Did you have a good journey?”

“Yes, I rather like trains.”

“So do I, they go through unspoilt country and you can see the wild flowers and so on.”

“Mm, they don’t even frighten a lot of animals, they’ve got used to them and know they won’t hurt, I suppose.”

They had breakfast in the station buffet then took a tube to Paddington and Timothy found an empty compartment on the ‘Cornish Riviera’.

“What magazines would you like?” he enquired.

“Get me a Vogue, please.”

He was rather pleased at this request as he had noticed the picture on the cover of this magazine, and found it intriguing. It showed a girl wearing hip-length leather boots with extremely high stiletto heels and a polished black rubber cape. He had been fascinated by the illustration but had not liked to buy the woman’s magazine himself. Now he purchased it eagerly, with a copy of Sea Breezes, and hurried back to Laura. As he entered the compartment she was just unbuttoning her mac with a ripple of rubber. He found her feminine presence most pleasurable and the scent of her hair delicious, as he held the mackintosh whilst she slipped out of it. He folded it carefully and put it on the rack with the cases.

“I do like your boots, they’re super,” he blurted out.

“Oh, I’m glad you do, I saved up for them for ages.”

“You look very smart altogether, your white mac goes with them beautifully; I think it’s very hard to beat black and white as a colour combination.”

“You have a good fashion sense,” smiled Laura.

“Well, I think it’s all part of art,” replied Timothy. “I find the fashions very appealing, this year; that’s a good one.” He pointed to the cover of Vogue.

“Really way out, I wish I could get an outfit like that too,” agreed Laura.

They became fast friends on the train trip, discussing horses and boats, with enthusiasm. They had tea as the train emerged from the tunnel in the red cliffs of Torbay; then ran alongside the silver sea. Later, as the diesel chugged slowly through the woods between Plymouth and Bodmin they drank in the beauty of the countryside and finally, when the fairy tale bulk of St Michael’s Mount appeared, Laura uttered a little exclamation of pleasure and soon she saw the strip of sand below the rocks curving round to Penzance.

There, Aunt Diana met them. Her hair, too, was as sable as the raven’s wing and beautifully thick; it fell over the shoulders of the long mackintosh of black polished rubber. She had an enthrallingly small waist and she walked with the grace of a cat, even in the fantastically high-heeled black leather thigh boots which encased her shapely legs. As a sea mist had crept in she had the hood raised on her Aston Martin DB sports car. Having disposed of the luggage, she suggested in her captivating Cornish drawl, “I think we can all squeeze in on the front seat if Timothy doesn’t mind getting his legs each side of the gear lever.”

Timothy certainly did not mind; he had been used to almost exclusively masculine company and to be pressed tightly between two smartly mackintoshed and pretty girls was rather thrilling for him. With the exciting, vibrant music of the Aston’s exhaust reverberating between the stone walls, they speedily swept up to Aunt Diana’s flat. Laura had a bed made up in the living room and Timothy had a camp bed in the kitchen.

The weeks passed most agreeably; Aunt Diana took them sailing and riding and introduced them to the fascinating underwater waters. These diversions helped them to adjust to the tragedy and the cousins were so attracted by each other that they did not feel their loss as much as they might have done in other circumstances.

They all consulted with the solicitors and it was decided that Aunt Diana should buy Trevanion farmhouse on the south coast between Penzance and Land’s End so that the three young people could live there with plenty of facilities for cars, horses and diving. Laura and Timothy had been left quite well off, so money was no obstacle, the formalities were quickly completed and they even managed to move in by the end of August. It was arranged that Laura and Timothy should continue their studies at local schools.

So far, they had not had any disagreements, but one Saturday afternoon when they were all sitting in the car on the cliffs having a picnic and warming up after a swim; Diana broke the news by saying. “Now I think the time has come for a little plain speaking. I have a couple of bones to pick with you two. First, Timothy, you laid in bed yesterday morning after I had brought you your early morning cup of tea and then you were late for school. That won’t do. You must be punctual. If I can teach you this lesson I think it will serve you well in life. I must punish you severely. Now you, Laura, you borrowed my lipstick this morning. Of course you would have been welcome to do so if you had asked, but you must learn to respect other’s property. Now I’m going to drive into Penzance to do some shopping and as part of your punishment I want you to buy me two rubber dog balls of two inches diameter and fifty yards of thin cotton rope, so that I can tie you up!” she ordered with a laugh.

Laura and Timothy walked down the railed pavement of Market Jew Street looking for the ironmongers shop to buy the rope. They had purchased the balls. Timothy listened to the sweet rustling of Laura’s mackintosh as they walked.

“You don’t think she meant that, about tying us up, do you? I thought she was joking.”

“I don’t know, it sounds so extraordinary and she did laugh. I expect she was pulling our legs and I can’t think what on earth she wants dog balls for, as we haven’t a dog. Anyway, she’s such a decent sort that I’m quite prepared to accept any punishment she wants to give me.”

“Me too, she’s one of the best.” Timothy was secretly fascinated by the idea of being bound. He had felt that way from about four years of age, when he saw adventure stories in comics, dealing with situations in which the hero or heroine was bound by the villains.

They made their purchase, both rather excited as they did so in spite of the seeming probability that the rope was intended for some other use really. They passed the statue of Sir Humphrey Davy and returned to the car park behind the square block of St John’s Hall and found Diana waiting for them.

“Well, have you got the apparatus we’ll need?” she inquired. Laura and Timothy were too shy to ask if she was really serious and soon the Aston was sliding back west. They shot over the hump-backed Buryas Bridge, becoming airborne in the process and before much time had passed they were having tea in the farmhouse by the sea. Afterwards they washed up; then Aunt Diana said: “I’ll just put the cream on to scald then I’ll attend to you. It’s thundery and the milk may go off if I don’t put it on right away.”

Indeed, the air was sultry and a storm seemed to be brewing.

“Now bring the rope and balls and come up to my bedroom.” When Laura and Timothy were standing, somewhat sheepishly, in the very feminine room with her, Diana spoke. “Now I want you to agree that the punishment I propose is fair and that you will undergo it willingly and without any ill feeling. I certainly hope there is none on my part; I want to correct you. I believe that to accept this chastisement will benefit you in the long run. I want to try to make the punishment fit the crime, in fact, to demonstrate the principle of Karma, the doctrine which states that as you sow, so shall you reap. Now I’ll tell you what I propose and then you can say if you agree to submit to it. Timothy, as you seem to like staying in bed, I’m going to put you to bed for three hours. But I don’t think you’ll be as comfortable as you were yesterday morning. You must strip completely and then put on my rubber slimming suit. Then... I propose to give you twelve strokes of the cane.” She produced a long school cane. Timothy and Laura looked startled and exchanged glances, but did not speak.

“Then I shall put you into this bed,” Diana drew back the coverlet as she spoke, revealing that it was made up with red rubber hospital sheets only, with a rubber pillowcase too, “strap you down and gag you with this rubber ball so that you will not be able to ask for any remission of your sentence, tuck you in and switch on the electric blanket. I fancy you will not find lying in this bed so pleasant and you will have plenty of time to reflect on the virtues of prompt rising. Afterwards you must have another twelve strokes of the cane to emphasise the point. I hope you will not feel it beneath your dignity now to suffer the cane, but I believe a short sharp lesson will prove better than reiterated reprimands. Do you agree? Think carefully, the bed will be very comfortable.”

The beautiful girl looked searchingly at Timothy. He looked straight back at her and replied bravely. “Dear Aunt Diana, I agree. I was at fault and I gladly accept your punishment. I’m sorry to be such a trouble to you.”

“That’s all right; good boy. Now I just want a private word with you.” Carrying the slim suit she escorted him to his own room. She opened the wardrobe drawer, took out the hot water bottle which had had its bung removed and handed it to him. “You’d better put this on; I found it at the back of your drawer when I was checking your shirts.” Timothy flushed beetroot, and just stammered. “There’s no need at all to be ashamed of it, I’m glad to see you using your brains; it’s perfectly natural. Now strip right off and put on the slim suit, I’ll help you zip it up if you come into my room when you’re ready.”

Left alone, Timothy threw off his clothes and then took a packet of cotton wool from the drawer and, tearing off a wad, thrust it into the bottle with a ruler. Quivering, he buckled a belt round his waist then got the hot water bottle, strapping it in place. He stepped into the heavy mackintosh suit and worked his feet through the latex seals at the bottom of the legs so that they fitted snugly around his ankles, then he pulled the suit up over his hips. To his surprise it had no arms. The garment was made of strong fabric proofed with smooth rubber on each side. As he walked down the corridor to Aunt Diana’s room it made a marvellous loud crinkling and rustling. His heart was beating fast and his mind was in a whirl.

“Ah, here’s our penitent,” smiled Aunt Diana. He felt better, as her manner helped to put him at ease. “Here you are,” Diana passed a strap round his hips. “Now you can let go of the suit while I tie your hands. Fold your arms in front of you.” Timothy did so and, taking the cord, Aunt Diana carefully and firmly bound them together and fastened the cord above his elbows. She then drew it tight across his body in front of his chest and behind his back, finally passing the rope right round him several times and knotting it so that he was securely trussed. As his liberty was lost he grew more excited and Aunt Diana’s manner became abrupt, whilst her eyes flashed. She pulled the top half of the suit up over his shoulders and zipped up the back. He shuddered at the touch, half repellent, half delightful of the rubberised material against his skin, as the cold, clammy mackintosh garment enveloped him.

“Now you’d better have my Wellingtons on, you must be completely encased in rubber to keep in the heat.” Aunt Diana took a pair of her long, Cuban-heeled Wellingtons from a cupboard. “These are light and clean. Get a pair of his stretch nylon socks, please, Laura.”

The girl brought them back and they were fitted. “Help me put these boots on him.” With Laura’s aid the glossy rubber boots were forced onto Timothy’s feet, though they were very tight. “Now the gag,” Aunt Diana took one of the rubber balls; she had made a hole through its centre and threaded a piece of string through it. “Open your mouth.”

Timothy did so and Aunt Diana crammed the ball between his teeth. It was a very close fit but at last she managed to work it right into his mouth so that it was behind his teeth and he could not remove it without using his hands. To make quite certain of its security the string was tautly knotted behind his head. Aunt Diana picked up an old rubber diving hood and pulled it onto Timothy’s head, back to front.

“Hold your breath for a minute which I mark the places for breathing holes and eye slits, take three deep breaths, you may have to hold it for quite a while, it’s difficult to get these things on and off.”

Timothy did some deep breathing, then took in air to the full capacity of his lungs. “Ready?” He nodded. Aunt Diana pulled the hood down over his face. To be engulfed in pitch darkness and to be unable to breathe was a frightening feeling. Timothy sensed the gentle pressure of his aunt’s hands and the chalk around his eyes; then he heard her exclaim - “Sugar! I’ve dropped the chalk, it’s rolled under the bed, get it, quickly please, Laura.” Timothy heard sounds of scuffling as Laura wriggled under the bed.

“I can’t find it.”

“Well, get another piece, there’s some in my left-hand top drawer. Are you all right, Timothy?”

Timothy nodded, but after a further interval he felt that he must breathe. He tried to cry out but the rubber ball pressing on his tongue strangled the sound. Beginning to panic, he prayed, ‘please be quick.’ Aunt Diana and Laura seemed quite indifferent to his plight. He wrenched at his helplessly bound hands and tried to stand up, but Aunt Diana held him down. “Hang on, won’t be a second now.” Just as he gasped out the carbon dioxide laden air Aunt Diana steadied his head whilst his cousin marked the position of his nostrils. He tried to breathe in but merely sucked the tight rubber against his nose. A wave of weakness rose over him as he began to suffocate. His penis was rigid and bearing out against the rubber bag holding it down. Aunt Diana wrenched the bottom of the helmet up and he sucked in a great stream of delicious air and looked into Laura’s anxious eyes.

“Sorry about that,” said Aunt Diana, “I didn’t realise you were so desperate. Are you feeling OK now?”

The fettered young man nodded, so relieved at being able to breathe again, and feeling a strange pleasure at submitting to the humiliating and painful attentions of the two women.

As Aunt Diana began to cut the slits in the hood, she asked Laura: “You attend your drama class at seven o’clock, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, for your punishment I want you to wear my other rubber slimming suit the whole evening, which will mean that you will to keep your mackintosh and Wellingtons on the whole time as the rippling and rustling of the rubber is too obtrusive under ordinary clothes. Then when you come back you must submit to a dozen cuts from the cane. You wanted to wear my lipstick, well now you must wear my sweat suit as well, whilst in company and the centre of attention. I expect that will make you more careful about the rights of property in future. Do you agree to my suggestion?”

Laura was silent for a moment, envisaging the terrible embarrassment of appearing before the producer of the play and the other actors, whilst she read her lines clothed indoors in mackintosh and wellingtons on a hot, sultry summer evening. Beside this ordeal the thought of twelve cuts with the wicked looking cane paled into insignificance.

“What shall I tell them if they ask why I won’t take my mac off?”

“That’s your worry, not mine; and I shall inquire afterwards to see if you’ve attended the session and insisted on wearing your mac indoors. Not that I shall need to inquire, I don’t doubt that I shall hear anyway.” Aunt Diana concluded with a chuckle.

Laura knew that she had to agree and brazen out the situation somehow. “Yes I agree, you beautiful witch; if you don’t object to my referring to you as such.” She uttered a despairing laugh and decided firmly that she wouldn’t follow Timothy’s example and apologise for putting Diana to the trouble of correcting him. Laura suspected that the Celtic beauty was far from finding the action a chore; rather, she seemed to enjoy it tremendously and this knowledge added to Laura’s feeling of helplessness, but she was in a cleft stick and she knew it.

“Well done, the suit’s in the middle drawer; put it on whilst I finish fixing up Timothy, then come straight back.”

Laura took the suit, this time, one with arms and a neck seal but otherwise similar to the first one and went to her own bedroom to don her apparel of contrition, like the hair shirts and chains worn by nuns.

Aunt Diana finished cutting the helmet and dusted it inside with French chalk again then pulled it down over Timothy’s head once more. The nose and eye slits were well placed and this time he could see and breathe though the hood was rather too tight for comfort. She tucked the skirt of the helmet down into the neck of the suit and then laced this close.

“Just one more item and you’ll be dressed.” She went to the drawer again and came back with her white bathing cap and drew it over the smooth rubber of the hood which enclosed Timothy’s head. “This will cover up the face aperture at the back of your head,” she murmured, fastening the strap under his chin. “Now walk over behind the armchair.”

Timothy rose to his feet, and with her hand under his elbow she assisted him across the room, in case he should stumble in the high-heeled boots, as he would be unable to regain balance with his arms bound. An odd feeling came over Timothy as, for the first time in his life; he walked in lady’s high-heels. He saw his bizarre reflection in the wardrobe mirror - a prisoner encased in rubber, at the hands of his attractive jailer, who guided him to the place of punishment, her slim fingers with the long red nails, gripping him firmly. The sight of himself in the glossy black boots, red rubber suit and grotesquely masked head, under control from the fashionable young woman gave him a piquant sensation. He came to a halt behind the chair and leaned against it whilst Aunt Diana tied his knees, ankles, insteps, and, finally, the heels of his boots together and then to the rung of the chair. She then took a strap and wound it round each of the back legs of the chair a few times, so that it was stretched between them with the ends hanging down each side.

“Right, now bend over.”