I always resented the Brookings
family. It would have been easy enough to accept that my dad worked for a
company of some kind, or the government, but that my father worked as a
servant for someone, that was harder to take. Who wants to admit to
everyone their father is a freaking gardener!?
There's a lot of rivalry in school.
It's all about status, see. I fought hard for my share, and I got lucky
because, well, I'm pretty good looking and I have a really nice body. Everyone
made that perfectly clear to me every day of my life.
Everyone liked me. Everyone wanted me
around. Whenever I walked into a classroom, or any other kind of room, heads
turned my way. Girls wanted to be my friends. Boys just wanted me.
And yet my father worked as a gardener!
A gardener! That was the job for greasy wetbacks and others of that ilk. True,
the gardens at the Brookings' estate were huge and varied. And my father had a
three-year college diploma in horticulture. He wasn't usually the one doing the
digging and weeding. He directed his staff (the greasy wetbacks).
But telling my friends my father was a
gardener was something I very much avoided.
It had always made me feel low,
damaging my pride, when I had to accompany him to the estate. Especially
whenever I met one of the Brookings – the rich bastard Brookings. And most
especially when I had to be in the presence of Sophie Brooking.
Sophie was a year younger than me. She
was a pretty girl, though not up to my standard, and kind of nerdy. But she had
everything! Everything! She wore the most expensive designer clothing with the
same degree of casualness as I did the clothes my father bought me at Walmart.
Her bedroom (when I had been ordered to 'go play' with Sophie, was the size of
our apartment!
Sophie had her own big-screen
wall-mounted TV, a huge four-poster bed with a canopy and lace curtains! She
had so many toys and dolls that she had been given a separate bedroom just to
house them all! And Sophie lived in the
big mansion with its swimming pools (indoor and outdoor), home theater, bowling
alley, games rooms and other amenities which made me green with envy.
As I got older I could not resist doing
my best to show off what I possessed – which was a fine body and great
beauty. If I absolutely had to go to the estate I'd wear tight tops which
emphasized my breasts and my taut, slim waist, and either tight pants or short
skirts.
My blonde hair always shone, for I
took extra care with it if I was going to go to the estate for any reason, just
in case Sophie saw me. I was so glad when she had to start wearing glasses! Ha!
That just made her look less sexy and more nerdy! And she got the most unstylish
glasses, too, sort of rounded like Harry Potter! Was she TRYING to look like a
giant nerd!?
When I got old enough to have summer
jobs I at first refused the offer of the Brookings, preferring to search out
almost any kind of job rather than be another of their servants. The problem
was the Brookings were awfully generous, perhaps in part because I was my
father's daughter. The jobs I got paid half what I could have gotten from the
Brookings.
I was determined to go to university
and become a lawyer, or something else with a proper sense of status. But that
took money, and so, the year I graduated from high school I gritted my teeth and finally accepted Mrs.
Brookings' offer to work there as a maid.
It was so hard, though! Not the work,
but having to work there as a maid, especially whenever Sophie or her brother
was around! I felt terribly degraded, and my resentment for the Brookings grew
worse.
Sophie was always pleasant to me, and
even pretended to treat me like an equal, even a friend, but I had to struggle
mightily just to be civil in return. I resented the stupid uniform, and that
the practical Brookings had me wear sneakers with it instead of high heels.
I was still six inches taller than
Sophie, who was a short girl, so could literally look down at her, at least.
But I liked to wear high heels to emphasize my height even more, as well as how
nice my legs were.
I got to know the house pretty well,
of course, and my own inquisitive nature as well as a dark desire to find
something bad about the Brookings, maybe some sort of criminal behavior, caused
me to poke around even where I was not assigned.
I dreamed of watching Mr. Brooking and
his wife on TV being led off in handcuffs for some sort of financial fraud! And
in the background would be a sobbing Sophie! Oh Boo Hoo, bitch!
So when I discovered a room which was
always locked, I was more than curious. It was in the basement, far down the
back of a narrow corridor I had no business being in. The door was thick and
padded in dimpled black leather, like the doors of fancy offices where no sound
would be allowed to escape.
What was going on in this room that
the Brookings wanted to keep it quiet?! Most likely it was just some sort of
music room, I conceded to myself. But what if it was something more!?
Getting the key took weeks. I filched
various keys I found during my cleaning, tried them, then returned them. I
finally got my chance when the butler needed to get a duplicate key for a room
for me, and opened a cabinet filled with keys.
Once I knew of the cabinet, and how
casually the butler treated the key, it was only a matter of time before I
managed to get the key, sneak down the hall, and unlock the door.
What I found shocked me!
It seemed to be a whole separate
complex of rooms! First came a round entry hall with a black and white marble
floor. Then came a corridor with luxurious, black(!) carpet. This led to a
living room, a luxurious bathroom with a walk-in shower, and a storage room.
Then in the other direction I found a strange room with a bizarre collection of
wooden and leather frames of various sorts.
At first I thought it some sort of
exercise room. But when I came to the far wall and all the items mounted on it,
my jaw dropped and I realized that the physical activity the room was made for
was quite a bit different.
There was a rack which had all manner
of straps, belts, whips, flogs and crops. And shelves upon which sat leather
and steel restraints, straps, coiled ropes in various collars, clamps, gags and
chains of every variety!
“Holy shit!” I gasped, my eyes wide.
Another shelf had an amazing
collection of male penises and vibrators in every size, shape and color! Then a
cupboard revealed all kinds of kinky leather and PVC halters, catsuits, boots,
shoes, gloves, skirts and amazing and kinky looking harnesses!
I wondered whose playroom it was with
a sense of delicious and sadistic anticipation. And how could I get word out to
humiliate the Brookings!?
The start of that was to take
pictures, and I took a number of them with my iPhone, giggling in delight all
the while.
I had been using my beauty, my
sexuality, and my desirability as the basis for what status I had held since
adolescence. I'm not embarrassed about that. Most girls do the same. As such,
it was impossible to not think of how sexy and hot I might look in some of this
stuff. And frankly, some of the dildos and vibrators looked intriguing!
And since Mr. and Mrs. Brooking were
gone for the day and I had the spare key no one was likely to find me here.
First I tried on the high heels, then
the thigh-high boots. Those looked neat! They had six-inch stiletto heels and I
found a pair which fit me well enough to pull on!
I felt so tall in them! And there was
a huge wall mirror next to me I could look at myself in!
They didn't go very well with the maid
outfit, of course, so I quickly discarded that. Then I removed my underwear as
well. None of the things in the cupboard could be worn over them.
Being naked, and naked in these
incredible thigh-high boots made me feel terrifically sexy! I couldn't help
taking a picture of myself, with my face turned away and my long blonde hair
hiding it, but my breasts pushed out proudly! Then I pulled on a pair of PVC
gloves that went all the way up practically to my shoulders!
I pulled on one of the harnesses, then.
It consisted of leather straps held together by small, stainless steel rings,
and it hugged my body tightly, accentuating my breasts. I felt my breathing
growing more ragged as I examined the straps and figured out how to tighten the
ones around my breasts so they squeezed in deliciously and made them throb!
The part which went down over my pussy
was wickedly narrow, and I gasped as I had to pull on it to clip it into place,
for it pulled up so hard it pulled right in between the lips of my sex! The pressure
against my soft sex made it ache, but also throb deliciously!
“I look so hot!” I gasped, staring at
myself in the mirror, then taking pictures – below the chin.
The lower strap was attached to a ring
which was strategically designed to press against my soft flesh right where my
clitoris was located. In fact, it neatly framed my clitoris, which was feeling
hot and swollen just then.
I loved looking hot and sexy! I fought
constantly with society's expectations to wear clothing which was as revealing
as possible without being quite over the edge. I didn't want people calling me
a slut, after all! Or worse, accusing me of 'trying'! It had always been
frustrating to feel such restrictions on how hot and sexy I could look!
Looking at myself in the harness,
boots and gloves made my pussy thrum with excitement, and I dropped a gloved
leather finger down to rub lightly against my clitoris.
I gasped at the rush of sensation!
I was going to need to masturbate!
As the hunger grew within me I could
feel it starting to affect my judgment. I just didn't care. I examined the
dildos excitedly, then picked up one which seemed just about right. It was
thick and realistic looking, but not too long.
My heart was pounding as I looked down
my body, then squatted on the floor. I unsnapped the lower part of the harness
and eased the thin strip of leather out from between the lips of my sex.
I'm already so fucking wet! I thought excitedly.
I pressed the nose of the dildo
against myself then sank lower, moaning, gasping, then rubbing my clitoris as
the thick head began to make my swollen lips ache. It slowly pushed forward as
I let more weight down, the lips of my sex stretching wider and wider until the
head pushed up through the mouth of my sex!
I was almost ready to come! Panting, I
eased my fingers away from my clitoris, moaning as I sank down deeper and
deeper. I wanted every inch of the thick, phony cock inside my now trembling
body!
I succeeded! I impaled myself on the
thing, then grasped the strap and pulled it in between my thighs, then up my
front. I moaned as the strap pressed against my sex, gasping as I felt the head
of the dildo jammed high inside me.
Just a little more! Just a little
more! I
thought as I forced the strap up harder. It ached, but I didn't care. The heat
was scalding! I managed to do the strap up, and then stood up, gasping for
breath, staring at myself with wide eyes.
No! I wasn't going to come yet! I was
enjoying myself too much! The heat was too delicious! I didn't want it to end!
I put on a pair of the leather
restraints around my ankles, then my trembling hands fumbled through things,
looking for more! I pulled a studded leather collar around my neck and buckled
it in back, then a ball gag! I pulled that up, slid it into my mouth, and
strapped it behind her, then stared at myself in the mirror, my eyes wide.
God, I look so incredibly sexy!
I took a few more pictures.
Then I swept my arms up and back
behind me to arch my back more, and my hand hit something, something which gave
way with a metallic sound.
I looked up and saw the bar and
chains.
Oh my God! I thought, awed.
I inspected it excitedly, trying to
see how it worked, the hunger and heat sweltering!
The restraints on my wrists had rings
on them, as did the sides of the bar when I freed it and it swung overhead. I
inspected the shelf and found some clips and various shorter lengths of chain,
and then tried to figure out how to make it work.
The bar overhead was attached to a
pulley. I found this out when I accidentally stepped on a small pedal on the
floor and the machine noise almost scared me out of a year's growth.
The bar rose above my reach, and I
looked down at the pedal. It was next to a ring set in the floor, and I stepped
on it again. Now the bar descended, all the way to my waist.
The image which appeared in my mind
was so clear and sharp and desperately erotic that it was irresistible! I
placed my left foot near one of the rings on the floor, then attached it by
clipping a short chain to the ring, and to the studded leather restraint I'd
put around my ankle.
I spread my other foot and placed it
just next to the pedal, then chained it in place as well.
I attached a short chain to rings on
each end of the bar, and then clipped them to the wrist restraints before
stepping on the pedal.
The bar rose, rose up to chest level,
as my pussy throbbed, rose up before my eyes as sexual electricity coursed
through my body, then rose higher, as I willingly raised my arms high and
apart. The moment I felt actual tension against the restraints I almost came! This
was so hot! So wicked! So exciting!
I stared at myself in the big mirror,
transfixed!
The bar pulled higher, and I gasped as
it almost pulled me off my feet! I shifted my toe of the pedal and the bar
halted in place.
I looked sooo sexy! My only regret was
I wasn't able to take a picture of this! But I would. I would figure it out. I
just had to set up my phone and put a timer on it! I posed for own eyes for
now, wallowing in how hot and sexy and helpless I looked.
Poor me! The noble, sexy, beautiful martyr!
A prisoner of some evil, wealthy blue-blooded (and handsome) nobleman!
My nipples were so hard that I longed
to squeeze them! And if I could have gotten a finger down between my legs at
that instant I'd have come immediately!
What a rush this was!
I knew that when I finally touched
myself I would come like crazy! But given the soundproof door and the gag in my
mouth that hardly mattered!
I finally decided I'd looked at myself
long enough. I wanted to start touching myself! I shifted my foot to press down
on the pedal. The machine hummed, but the bar pulled up, not down, and I gasped
as I was lifted completely off the floor!
When my foot was pulled off the pedal
the bar stopped, but that left me suspended in mid-air, hanging by my wrists!
The leather restraints around my
wrists were soft and padded, and I had the leather gloves under them, but even
so my wrists began to ache almost at once!
I didn't really care, though. My mind
was filled with a shocking clamor of anxiety and terror as I stared down at the
pedal just barely below my wriggling toes!
It was simply not possible! I could
not possibly have locked myself into a position like this where I couldn't get
out!
I forced myself to calm down, though
my heart pounded furiously. I tried furiously to stretch my foot out just that
little bit, just enough to press the pedal! What was infuriating was that I
could touch it with the tip of my toe – just barely. I couldn't apply any
pressure!
I tried to narrow my hands, tried to
pull one out of the restraint, turning and twisting it from side to side as
best I could. But that didn't work. I tried jerking with my legs against the
restraint and chain, trying to pull the ring out of the floor.
That didn't work either.
The chains attached to my wrists were
sitting on hooks on either end of the bar. If I could raise an arm I could
simply slip the chain off the hook. But my arms held the chains taut and I
couldn't raise them because they were already stretched tautly!
The full shock of it began to hit me
as I stared at myself in the mirror, stared at myself looking undeniably hot
and erotic and sexy. I couldn't free myself! I could not get loose! Not unless
someone came to free me! And what a humiliating experience that was going to
be!
I tried again, frantic, thrashing in
place to no avail, only to finally stop, breathless, gasping, sweating, then
whimpering and finally sobbing as the full reality of things hit her. I was
going to be mortified!
In front of the Brookings!
As time passed my wrists and arms
began to ache more, and I found myself becoming exhausted. I tried to simply
hang in place, giving up, but that didn't prove possible. I wasn't able to
breathe unless I tightened the muscles of my arms and pulled up just a bit.
For every breath.
I was a fairly fit girl, because I
wanted to be sexy and that meant toned. But as the time passed I began to feel
a sense of rising horror. What if no one found me! What if they just thought I
had gone home early for some reason!? What if nobody came down here for days!
I could die!
I could die and then be found in this
humiliating position!