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DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Monica Armstrong: Mistress of Bilboes; at twenty-nine, the blue-eyed, raven haired,
entrepreneurial Monica is the master-mind behind the setting up and developing of Bilboes
into what she hopes will become the best B&D establishment in Queensland. Her
hand-picked team knows to obey her commands without question, and has enthusiastically
embraced her creative and imaginative treatments for clients. Monica is ambitious,
organized to the point of obsession, secretive and strict. In short, she knows what she
wants – and how to get it.

Steven Reynolds: Handyman, builder, reluctant tester of devices and participant in
Monica`s scenarios. In his thirty-four years, Steven has led a relatively sheltered life,
and his chance involvement with the development at Bilboes has been a revelation to him,
not least in the sexual department. On one day he is convinced he has landed his dream
job, while the next he is suffering at Monica`s hands and plotting revenge. He
nevertheless concludes he lives in interesting times. He has not yet discovered just how
much more interesting they are to become.

Mary Ramirez: Born to Spanish parents who had emigrated to Australia, Mary had, at one
time, been a prominent television newsreader, and is gifted in speaking both Spanish and
Arabic. At thirty-eight, she is the most senior and experienced of the Bilboes team. Tall
and willowy, she has been described as an Audrey Hepburn with an attitude problem –
something she is happy to take out on clients and team members alike, if they dare to
cross her.

Trish Taylor: Trish arrived in Sydney from her native British Columbia at the age of
twenty-two, after completing a course in interior design in Vancouver. Now, fourteen years
later, she takes a dominant role in the running of Bilboes. A striking brunette, she is
practical and passionate about all she does, her professionalism overlaid with a wicked
sense of humor.

Jillian Whitford: Intelligent and ambitious, Jillian has forsaken a career in
physiotherapy which by chance first brought her into contact with Monica at the tender age
of nineteen. Nine years later, the striking blonde is working alongside Monica as her
deputy in running Bilboes. Bisexual Jill has had a long-running relationship with Emma
Cheng, begun in their late teens, and is able to function as a Switch within the Bilboes
sexual hierarchy.

Emma Cheng: A year younger than Jillian, Emma is Hong Kong Chinese, her parents having
brought her to Australia ahead of the Communist takeover. Her relationship with Jillian is
both sexual and D/S, and it was through Jillian she came to join the team, her propensity
for the submissive role being expanded and developed by Monica as an exotic selling point
to clients.

Leila Mackay: Bright and vivacious, the twenty-four-year-old Leila is the youngest on the
staff of Bilboes. While primarily a submissive, Leila is nevertheless occasionally
required to participate as a Domme and to understand that side of the business. She is
artistic, and enthusiastic, her pre-Bilboes background in photography coming to the fore
whenever documentary records are required for the Bilboes pictorial archives.

Shawnee Lewis: Monica and Shawnee have struck a deal that appears to benefit both
parties. Shawnee is a self-confessed bondage-aholic and will do anything she can to get
herself on the receiving end of the Bilboes Team`s skills. As a result, Shawnee finds
herself working part time at Bilboes to finance her studies at university, while receiving
additional payment in kind as a live-in slave.

As a team, the girls are prepared to take on all manner of clients and client requests.
The arrival of Steven in their midst – and the options his presence now provides for the
fulfillment of Monica`s ideas and ambitions – is to have unforeseen consequences, both
within the team and through their developing involvement with the outside world and the
darker forces therein. None of them have any concept of how far this will lead and the
harrowing adventures they will ultimately experience.
 
PRELUDE

Bilboes – An iron bar with sliding shackles for confining prisoner`s ankles
It had been nearly two months since I became resident handyman, builder, inventor and
jack-of-all-trades at Bilboes. I was employed by Monica Armstrong, mistress of the house,
supposedly to convert the spacious basement to a series of specialist dungeons. It seemed,
however, that my contract – had there actually been such a thing – also specified that I
was also to test all my creations, and to participate in sessions with the clients. I was
quite flattered in obliging with the latter, but the former had proved painful in the
extreme. Monica brooked no nonsense in her establishment, and the other five girls – Mary,
Trish, Jillian, Emma, and Leila, and of course live-in slave Shawnee – all jumped when
Monica directed. Well, mostly.

In my short time there, however, I thought I was starting to detect the first
over-stepping of the mark by Monica, as she set about building up Bilboes as the foremost
bondage establishment in Queensland. I saw the first instances of bad people skills that
meant Monica was pushing people just a tad too far. After suffering at her hands, then
scoring a return point or two myself, I knew Monica would be watching me closely, and I
suspected the situation was developing into something more than just a behavioral issue.
It was becoming personal.

There was no doubt Monica was a stunning lady – jet black hair and piercing blue eyes
that could wither you on the spot or make your heart melt when she honored you with a
radiant smile – but there was so much more to her than looks. To me, Monica was an enigma
– devious, organized, creative, and certain of what she wanted. It was just that she never
shared this with anyone, and sometimes we were never sure when we had even reached the
target she`d set.

I had seen the disciplinary treatment she handed out to Mary, to keep her in line, and
I`d been taken aback by some of the devices she wanted constructed for her clients. But
this was Monica`s world, where she ruled as Mistress, and where things were done her way
or not at all. Above all, satisfying the needs of the clients came first, and I was soon
to meet the first of the involuntary clients who were sent to sample the corrective
services offered by the House of Bilboes, and to see the efficient running of the
business.
 
CHAPTER ONE: THE TARDIS

It was time for gym workouts to begin in earnest. Because of the nature of the
"sessions", the facilities were of necessity used in short bursts. One of
Monica`s axioms was the need for privacy for clients. They did not expect to be
embarrassed through being humiliated in front of total strangers. (It did not seem to
matter that our team could strip them, tie them up, beat them and shove things up their
orifices – they would only be embarrassed if someone else saw them, it seemed.)

Monica and Jillian worked the rostering well with judicious booking times. Sometimes
clients came in pairs – master (or mistress) and slave, or two women looking for something
different and providing moral support for each other. Such an arrangement obviously got a
discount, since two were more productive for us than one. In the cases of singles, and
depending on bookings, we sometimes had to use either the holding cells or one of the
other rooms such as the Post Room, to store these people between exercise sessions, while
others took a turn in the gym. Monica hoped to encourage a regular clientele that would
come once or even twice a week for their workouts, in the same way the rest of the human
race might use a normal gym membership. Chances were they would "come" once or
twice during their workouts, in fact.

With all this activity going on I could not help but encounter clients in various stages
of discomfort in the course of my building work, as I moved about the dungeon complex with
my materials and equipment. My next installation task was to utilize the area under the
stairs, as a short term holding area. This was relatively easily done by simply
constructing vertical partitions in concrete blockwork underneath the stairs. I built in
four this way, the interesting feature being their dimensions.

I had discussed the concept with Monica and we did some testing. The smallest cell was
under the lowest part of the stairs, the sloping roof of which went from about seventy
centimeters above the floor down to nothing. The cell was only half a meter deep and was
just big enough for a person to kneel or sit side-on to the door with her knees pulled up
to her chest. Within the space there were strategically placed eyebolts for securing necks
and limbs and anything else that needed to be immobilized. Three of the cells had
cage-like doors with vertical bars at five-centimeter spacings. All occupants would be in
full view except when a black curtain was stretched over the grille and held in place by a
continuous velcro strip around the edge. Since the cells` occupants were intended to be
bound, or at very least restrained, there was little chance of them pulling the curtain
down, especially since the grille was set back ten centimeters from the outside edge of
the stairs, which was the line of the curtains. And woe betide anyone who dared try such a
stunt in any case!

The second smallest cell, named "Little Ease" after a similar medieval version
from the Tower of London, was slightly roomier, but it was of such dimensions that it was
not possible to stretch out any limb. There was space for the occupant to turn around but
not stand nor sit with their legs extended. It was seen as longer-term restraint, for up
to twenty-four hours, by which time the cramped confinement would take its toll. The last
two cells were the same, and I dubbed these Tardis One and Tardis Two, in light of their
apparent (and actual) confined space. However, contrary to television`s famous Doctor Who
time traveling phone booth, whose interior was dramatically bigger than its exterior,
these two cells looked slightly smaller than a phone booth and in fact were.
They were of adequate size in which to stand – as wide as a human body, but only just
deep enough for one. The captive was backed in and the grill was closed or the U-bolts
were installed.

In the case of Tardis One, which had a grille, we had trialed the exact depth such that
with most women their breasts were compressed against the bars. Due to the lack of space,
even in an unrestrained condition a captive would be unable to raise her arms from her
sides because of the grille. Which gave plenty of scope for torment through the bars and
playing with nipple clamps and other tools of the trade. The victim was unable to bend her
knees, nor – if a couple of bars were inserted into strategic holes in the blockwork
behind her, such as one bar just below each ear – could she turn her head. `Simple but
effective` was my motto.

Again, in this instance, the occupant could be wearing a simple blindfold and a tape gag
but would be unable to reach them even with unbound hands. Monica and I were really proud
of the elegance of it, to tell the truth. It was a bit like a modern day version of the
famous Iron Maiden, and we resolved to modify the barred door to take various devices
which would be pressed into the various human orifices or against strategic or tender
parts. I made further modifications which included blockwork holes at various points in
line with the insides of the legs, where bars could be placed at right angles to the
grille to restrict the legs further and maintain better access to vital places. In the
head area I glued a one-centimeter sheet of dense foam to the blockwork. I knew from
experience that the head was a hard structure itself and tended to bruise easily if forced
against something unyielding.

In Tardis Two, with the foam in place, I bent some large U-shaped bars from steel the
thickness of my small finger. I threaded each end and drilled further holes right through
the blockwork. In this Tardis cavity I extended the foam to cover the whole block wall at
the back and drilled a series of holes in the rough shape of a human body, through which
the u-bolts would fit to pinion the limbs and torso to the wall.

I had spent the weekend completing the blockwork and foam lining and on the Monday I
installed the steel grilles which I had had made at my friendly local engineering shop. It
was to this shop I was to go on a fairly regular basis for anything I thought would not
conjure up too many questions.

At our regular Monday morning meeting, Monica detailed Jillian and Trish to help me. In
fact this really meant Jillian and Trish had the dubious job of being test pilots. I was
ready for Trish even before I had collected the grilles. What I had planned for her did
not even need a grille. Trish was taken to Tardis Two, which was slightly wider than
Tardis One – wide enough for the occupant to have her feet maybe half a meter apart and
arms perhaps a handspan away from the hips. I rocked up with an armload of silver-painted
U-bolts, which Trish observed with some trepidation. I explained to them they were all
numbered and all Jillian had to do was go behind the rear wall and fit the washers and
nuts after I had pushed the U-bar into place. It was simplicity in itself. A prisoner
could be held by one U-bar or ten. They could not get away or reach the nuts. The only
escape was to rip the bar out with a bit of wall, or to bribe the jailer. Neither was
going to happen in Trish`s case since the first one that went in was fitted with a bit gag
that was jammed in her mouth. I waited while Jillian screwed up the nuts, watching Trish`s
wide-eyed expression for the first sign of unnecessary strain on her jaw.

There was no need for the bars to be excessively tight. That would only produce bruising
which was the last thing anyone wanted. In this case, Trish was secured at the mouth,
which totally immobilized her head, then at wrists, ankles and around the waist. It was
exceedingly effective and very elegant. Trish was wearing only a bikini, as instructed by
Monica, and after being pinioned to the wall looked a divine picture, being unable to
create more movement than a bit of toe and finger wiggling and eye-rolling. There was a
bit of plaintive spluttering around the bit gag, which really wasn`t designed for total
noise suppression the way some of the mouth-filling gags were. Monica was very impressed,
as was Leila when she turned up to do her photographer`s act.

Monica, of course, could not walk past a couple of tits without taunting them, and after
bringing Trish`s nipples to attention with a bit of delicate fondling in the southern
regions, installed two rather wicked plastic clothes pegs on the protruding nips through
the thin lycra of the bikini top. Leila had explained to me early on the various features
of different types of clothes pegs, including their spring force, whether they were
plastic or wooden, and the shape and area of the contact points. These particular pegs had
concave rather than flat gripping surfaces and could pinch painfully like a thumb and
forefinger meeting nail to nail. They were the least likely to be pulled off, and if they
did they provided excruciating pain in the process, I was told. Installed through lycra
meant less grip and more chance of coming off, but the pain would be there nonetheless.
Trish was clearly not a happy camper and glared at Monica while trying to say some
probably very uncomplimentary things about her. Naturally the solid rubber bit distorted
her complaints unintelligibly and merely resulted in two little strings of drool sliding
slowly down on to the nicely filled material of her bikini top.

"Relax and enjoy, Trish. You have a free day. You`ll be released in time for dinner.
Unless we decide to feed you here. You can probably do without lunch – you look as though
you could lose a kilo or two," Monica said cheerfully, pinching Trish`s tummy. I knew
she was joking – about the weight, anyway – but Trish just shot a withering look at the
boss. There was nothing like a cheap shot about weight to get the girls wound up, and
Monica was the world`s wind-up expert.

* * * *

Jillian was dressed in cut-off jeans that left nothing to the imagination, plus a tank
top and sneakers. She went with me to collect the grilles from the engineering yard, and
her attire predictably almost caused half a dozen industrial accidents in a very short
space of time. Jillian, of course, flashed her wonderful smile and nearly added to the
mishaps.

We loaded the three grilles into the back of my ute and returned to the place I now
regarded as home. Jill helped me unload the cargo through the steel emergency door
directly into the basement area. This was how I accessed the place for the most part,
particularly with any form of construction materials, and my comings and goings were
routine to the girls, just as I routinely encountered bound or restrained clients in the
course of my exits and entrances.

It took us the rest of the day to fit the three barred doors. They were heavy and their
hinges had to be bolted through the full thickness of the blockwork. Both Jill and I
worked up a sweat but had the good feeling at the end of the day that comes with having
achieved something productive which we could display.
 
Monica, of course, had to do the final inspection, and pronounced herself pleased with
the result. Jillian was then reluctantly backed into Tardis One. It was a snug fit
widthwise, with her arms nestling against the sides with not a lot of room to spare. I
swung the door closed. It did not leave much room here, however. Jill had a couple of
finger widths in front of her nose, but her breasts were cushioning the bars, preventing
the door from catching on the latch. Monica solved that one with a determined shove and
the steel catch slid home with a solid finality that had an ominous sound. Jill gasped as
the bars pressed into her boobs before she managed to wiggle as best she could to try to
make herself comfortable. She had nice breasts but they were bizarrely distorted by the
vertical bars forcing the flesh to protrude between them. Monica grasped each nipple
through the cotton of the tee-shirt and waggled them until they were central between the
bars.

"Ow! Ow! Monica!"

"Can you reach the latch?" Monica asked, ignoring the plea.

Jill wriggled some more, but there was a horizontal bar running across the grille at
waist height, and even though she could get her hands through the bars, she could not
raise them above this level, nor could she rotate her wrists since the gap was not wide
enough.

Monica poked and prodded and pronounced herself satisfied with the limitations on Jill`s
movements. She produced a piece of rope from her pocket and bound Jill`s wrists outside
the bars. There was a gap of a body width between her wrists which were in turn secured to
the bars themselves.

"See you after dinner, Jill. We`ll save you some."

"How long do I have to stay here?" Jillian asked ingratiatingly, probably
guessing the result.

"Maybe an hour, maybe the night."

"Aw Monica!"

"Be good." As Monica turned to go there was a spluttering from Tardis Two. Poor
Trish was still pinioned to the block wall by the u-bars.

"Of course. Sorry Trish. It must`ve been very boring for you. Your nips must be
really sore by now." Monica deftly removed the clothes pegs with two quick flourishes
– an action that elicited high-pitched wails and snorting from behind the bit gag. Trish`s
breasts heaved under the lycra and she was panting hard through her nose as Monica pulled
down the bottom of the bikini and worked a large vibrator into Trish`s pussy. She pulled
the bikini bottom back into place and I guessed the material was tight enough that the
inserted device would not be dislodged in a hurry. I also guessed Trish was in for a late
dinner as well. The buzzing of the vibrator sounded and Trish closed her eyes and groaned,
but this time it was the sound of pleasure.

"Any chance of some distraction here?" asked Jillian demurely.

"You`re a slut, Jill," said Monica agreeably, before disappearing to the
storeroom and returning with a flat vibrator she slipped down the front of Jillian`s
cut-off jeans. Jill`s eyes lit up.

"Thanks, Mon."

"But remember what goes around comes around," Monica continued, seizing each
protruding nipple and releasing the clothes pegs on to them that had been kept warm by
Trish until a few moments before.

"Ow! Shit-shit-shit! Those really hurt! Ow–Monica – I didn`t ask for them!"
"And I didn`t ask to have the house shouted down, so open wide!" Jillian knew
better than to argue in her position and reluctantly let Monica push an inflatable gag
between the captive lips. A few squeezes of the pump and Jillian`s angular jaw began to
open further. She started `mming` as her cheeks bulged. Monica gave a couple more squeezes
that left Jill`s eyes wide and pleading while incoherent noises escaped her nose. It would
be a fight for her attention between the warmth in her loins, the pain in her nipples and
the restrictions to her speech and breathing.

"Come, Steven – dinner time."

* * * *

An hour later I returned, this time with permission to free the girls from the
imprisoning steel restraints. I went behind Trish`s block wall and undid most of the
bolts. More specifically I undid all of them except those on her wrists, then returned to
the front to slide them out of their holes. Trish looked most relieved when the bit was
removed from her mouth and worked her jaw while I freed her ankle and waist.

"God, that`s better," she said at last. "You gonna undo my wrists?"

"In due course," I told her. "How`re you surviving?"

"It was hard work," she said, flexing her neck and legs experimentally.
"Really hard work. It`s not a strained position, but yet it is. Does that make sense?
Anyway, come on, get my hands free."

"Why, what`s the hurry?"

"You know damn well what the hurry is."

"Tell me."

"Because, oh blind one, this vibrator is driving me crazy and secondly because I
have to pee." She shifted from one foot to the other, obviously trying to get some
purchase on the big vibrator still wedged in her pussy and held there by her bikini
pants.

I moved up against her and stared her in the eyes, my right hand undoing the front clasp
of her bikini top. The two sides remained in place, held momentarily by the swell of her
breasts until with a little encouragement they slid to the sides.

"Steven, what are you doing? Don`t be a bastard."

"I`m being a helpful bastard – don`t knock it."

"Steven – I –I – oh shit!" By that time my left hand had found the base of the
vibrator and given it a firm lift, while my right hand confirmed the rock hard arousal of
Trish`s nipples. I sucked them and nibbled them with my teeth while Trish shuddered and
closed her eyes, making short gasps. Mr Willy was fully aroused as well by this time,
naturally, but he was just going to have to wait. Poor Trish had been stuck here all day
so it was only fair that she get something out of it, which wasn`t long in coming as with
a series of struggles she thrust her body against me and climaxed with a series of short
cries, biting down on my shoulder while her hands flexed and grasped at thin air within
their steel pinions.

After a minute she began to relax and slumped back against the wall. I returned behind
the wall, undid the remaining two U-bars then pulled them free of her wrists, which
appeared surprisingly clear of bruising. The bar I had used was ten-millimeter, and I had
considered sleeving it with foam if necessary, but it did not seem to be required at that
time. Trish pushed herself off the wall and sheepishly did up her bikini top, smiling at
me as she did so.

"You sure know how to take advantage of a girl, don`t you mister."

"Is that a complaint?"

"Hell, no. It was just a long time coming… God, I really do have to pee… See you
later. `Bye Jill."

Trish moved off, walking with a peculiar waddle that was due, I realized, to the vibrator
still being in place. She was probably afraid to remove it until she got to the bathroom.
In the meantime, flushed with excitement of events, I had totally forgotten about Jillian,
still trapped behind the barred gate, her nipples clamped and the inflatable gag stifling
any cries. To make matters worse, she had had to listen to the sounds of Trish`s orgasm
from the adjacent Tardis, which probably hadn`t done anything for her own self control,
given that our Jill was a bit passionate herself.

"Hi," I said, poking my head around the intervening block wall. She moaned and
rolled her blue eyes at me pleadingly. God, she looked so desirable, trapped as she was,
but still clothed. I have to say that in some cases a sexily clad girl can often be more
arousing than a naked one. Jillian managed to make the cut-off jeans and tank top look
seem like high fashion, at least in the bondage world, anyway.

I took pity on her and gently eased the pressure of the clothes pegs on her nipples,
gradually freeing her of the wicked bite of the jaws. She closed her eyes and moaned
again, her breath coming faster through her nose. After this I released some air from the
gag – enough to ease the discomfort but still not permit speech. Jill`s hands fluttered
where they protruded through the bars and were restrained by the rope Monica had tied them
with. There was a pronounced dampness around Jill`s crotch and I put my hand down there
where Monica had lodged the flat vibrator. The area was warm and moist, and I immediately
felt the pressure as Jill pushed forward, trapping my fingers against the bars. With some
dexterous movement I let my fingers ramble about, and it wasn`t long before Jill was
thrusting herself unrestrainedly against the bars, her breath coming faster and faster. I
could not resist myself.

"You`re a slut, Jillian. Look at you, humping a steel gate. What are you?"
"Uh ghut!" she moaned through the gag, her eyes closed, but not pausing in her
frenzied movement. She climaxed a moment later, uttering a long high-pitched whine ending
in soft gruntings as she turned her head sideways against the steel bars and shook
uncontrollably.

I eased my fingers free while Jill remained, trembling and shaking, her eyes still shut
and her breath coming in rapid pants and snorts. It took but a moment to undo the rope
around her wrists and undo the latch to the gate. It swung open easily, the bulb on Jill`s
gag slipping through and banging against her chest. With tremulous fingers she undid the
valve to the gag and worked it out of her mouth, bending over and gasping for air for a
long time.

"Jesus," she whispered to nobody in particular, slipping her hand down her
jeans to presumably quell the vibrator.

"Very impressive," came Monica`s voice from behind me. "I`m glad to see
we`ve all enjoyed ourselves." Her tone was mischievous but I still felt guilty, like
someone caught smoking after they said they`d given up. "Some people get all the good
jobs, right Jillian?"

Jillian smiled, flushing, but said nothing. In all the excitement neither of us had heard
Monica come down the stairs, nor had we realized she was not alone. Behind her was Emma,
her wrists handcuffed in front of her, naked. At least I presumed it was Emma. She wore a
leather discipline helmet which was presumably locked on, via a wide strap around her
neck. The helmet had no openings save for a small triangle where the nostrils were. From
the bottom of the leather strap I could see a cascade of black hair, and I had little
doubt that those gorgeous breasts, now seen for the first time in all their glory, could
belong to anybody else but Emma. She also wore a leather belt about her waist with a wide
crotch strap. Both were locked in place with small padlocks. He ankles were nominally
restrained by a hobble chain about a foot long.

"Emma has volunteered to test `Little Ease`," Monica told us. I suspected it
was a kind of involuntary volunteering – the kind that comes from being in the wrong place
at the wrong time. "Come, Emma, dear." Emma did not respond until Monica took
her by the arm and guided her toward the second smallest cell. I suspected Emma had her
ears plugged and probably had her mouth taped up as well, as was Monica`s usual style.

I watched as Monica maneuvered Emma backward into the small cell, making her bend over
into the meter-cube. She helped Emma sit down then pushed her legs into a bent position
before closing the grille and locking it with a padlock. Emma lay on her side in a
semi-fetal position. I had put some spare rubber flooring into all these cells, left over
from the gym flooring. It was easier to stand on for long periods and kept the cold of the
concrete at bay in just such a predicament as Emma now faced.

"She can stay there for the night," Monica told us. "Let`s see what she
has to tell us in the morning about `Little Ease`. Good job, Steven. And you, Jill."
Jillian blushed again. "Your dinner`s waiting for you upstairs."

* * * *

The following morning we sat on the veranda and, over breakfast, discussed the experience
of the cells the previous day. Trish said it had been very hard – harder in many ways than
stricter bondage where one was more tightly restrained and could push or pull against
ropes or straps. The steel bars were unyielding and were difficult to relax against. She
said the hardest part was not being able to move her head or bend her legs.

"It`s not like being suspended or something where you can just hang in there. Any
relaxation means some part of you gets weighted down on a steel bar – mainly your head. In
fact you could restrain someone entirely with that bit gag. It really was pretty
awful."

"Except the end?" I queried.

"Yeah," she admitted. "The end was okay."

"Okay? Your little hands were clenching and unclenching like mad!"

"All right! It was a happy ending. A good ending. Everyone went away satisfied. Is
that what you want me to say?"

I grinned. "I guess."

"I suppose I have to make some sort of endorsement as well?" Jillian asked.

"Absolutely no pressure," I said off handedly, "but any good reference is
always welcome." Jillian`s blue eyes sparkled briefly.

"Let`s just say I slept well."

"Any discomfort being behind bars?" Monica asked Jill.

"No."

"How long could you have stood it?"

"I don`t know – as long as you can stand still in one place. At least I could
shuffle my feet a bit and shift my weight, and turn my head. I guess a day wouldn`t be out
of the question. Better than poor Trish`s plight."

Just then Mary turned up with Emma on a leash. Emma was as I had last seen her, only now
her wrists were secured in the steel cuffs behind her back, instead of in front of her. I
guessed this aspect was a Mary refinement. Mary tethered her charge to a table leg. Emma
immediately knelt then laid down on her side, stretching her body out straight with a
faint moan of what I took to be relief or pleasure. Mary appeared to be in the middle of
some form of client servicing or supervision; she was dressed in a black PVC catsuit that
left nothing to the imagination. The outfit included wicked-looking stilettos and several
light chains that clinked when she moved. From her hip hung a small ring of keys. She
squatted briefly beside the prone form of Emma and fiddled with the crotch belt. A faint
buzzing began and Emma stiffened before trying to curl up in a ball again, as muffled
noises came from deep within the discipline helmet. She tried to reach the base of her
pussy but with the steel cuffs securing her wrists was unable to do so.

"It`s a bit early for that, isn`t it Mary?" Monica commented.

"I`ve never known you object to it, whatever the hour," Mary shot back acidly.
Touché, I thought. Monica smiled faintly and shrugged. "Anyway, I don`t have
time for nurse-maiding at the moment. I have a client doing Dracula impressions from a
beam." She stood up and went back through the kitchen, her heels clicking on the
timber floor.

"Looks like Mary got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning," Jill
murmured. She bent over Emma with a fond expression on her face. "Poor Emma. I`ll bet
she`s dying for a pee, but being the little tramp she is, she won`t want to miss out on
anything. Can I play, Mon?"

"Sure. I just want to find out how she managed last night. But only when she`s
ready, of course," she added quickly.

Jillian bent down and tweaked Emma`s nipples. They were hard and pointing. Emma groaned
and rolled on to her stomach, trying to grind herself into the floor. Jillian slipped a
sneakered shoe between Emma`s legs. It was immediately seized upon as Emma`s manacled
hands grasped Jill`s ankle, using the foot as a solid point to press against. Jill sat
there, smiling tolerantly at us, the way one would with a child or pet acting up or doing
something faintly embarrassing.

"She has no shame," Jill said conversationally as the prostrate body twitched
and jerked, the leather-covered head twisting from side to side as the climax finally
came. Jill nudged the now-prone form in the butt. "You can let go of my ankle now,
you tart!" The hands slowly released what looked to be a seriously tight grip on the
ankle. Little whimpering noises were coming through the hood as Emma rolled onto her side
and displayed her heaving breasts. There were worse sights to start your day with, over an
orange juice, I decided.

Jill unlocked the prisoner`s collar using a small ring of standard keys all the girls
carried. She unlaced the back of the hood and pulled it free. Emma blinked in the morning
sun, her face flushed and sweating, her hair plastered down. She had three pieces of duct
tape across her mouth which Jill now peeled off before unlocking the handcuffs.

"Good morning Emma," she said. "Did we sleep well?"

Emma looked embarrassed as she saw the audience that had witnessed her performance.

"No, thank you. It was very uncomfortable."

"How uncomfortable, Emma?" Monica quizzed.

"It was okay to start with, and I even fell asleep, but after a while when I tried
to shift position it began to get difficult. You can`t straighten your legs and it`s very
hard to straighten your waist. The only way I could do this was to lie on my stomach, and
even then I had my head twisted in a corner. The rubber stuff on the floor is okay – I
just couldn`t straighten. That was the problem."

"That was the point," said Monica.

"I guess I slept in snatches, but I kept waking up with cramps in my legs."

"Did you play with yourself to ease the pain," Jill asked slyly.

"Yes," Emma admitted. Then she added: "I also heard a lot of banging and
heavy breathing just as we got to the bottom of the stairs last night. You wouldn`t have
had anything to do with that, would you?"

Jill said nothing, pretending to be interested in a half-finished mango on her plate.

"How long could you have stayed there, Emma?" asked Monica.

"Maybe the rest of the morning? I don`t know. Maybe longer. It was weird being able
to move but not being able to stretch. It`s a different form of restraint – much more
frustrating in many ways than being tied tightly. Look, I have to pee. Save me some
breakfast."

She picked up Jillian`s key ring and went inside, while we returned to our breakfast
discussion. I could see Monica`s mind working and wondered what the result of all this
would be. I was sure I would find out in due course.

* * * *

The completion of the understair cells meant a big increase in our holding capacity, and
it was about this time activity really did seem to increase downstairs. We now had the two
holding cells, the understair cells, the Post Room and the Chair Room, plus the gym, to
cater for our inventive minds and the needs of our clients. The cells under the stairs
meant that the two main holding cells could be used for longer periods, such as for
`kidnap` victims who might need to be incarcerated for a week while various forms of
persuasion were applied to get them to tell us where the money was, or alternatively for
them to wait while it was `paid`.

During the following week or so I could not help but check out the understair cells from
time to time when I had to go upstairs for any reason. Quite often they were occupied with
women in some form of restraint. In this regard I have to say the majority of Monica`s
clients were female, probably on a three to one basis. I started to see a pattern of usage
of these cells, and saw the smallest cell occupied for the first time. It would have been
a tight fit in most cases, even with an unrestrained prisoner.

I saw a brunette whose wrists had been bound in front of her to her ankles, with her
knees drawn up to her chest. She was jammed in sideways with little room to move and
little ability other than to turn her head. The trend with the use of these areas seemed
to be to keep the prisoners blindfolded, rather than use the curtains. Likewise, prisoners
being transported were usually hooded or blindfolded to avoid unfortunate confrontations
with somebody they just might not wish to see. This particular girl was gagged and
blindfolded with a complex leather harness sporting a red ball for the mouth and pads over
the eyes. She was moaning softly and squirming as much as she was able, which really
wasn`t a lot. I guessed she was having to cope with something rather large up her rectum.
That was at nine in the morning. She was gone shortly after lunch, though I didn`t know
where. I had other things on my mind which I tried not to get distracted from.