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The Mistress and Her New Toy V3
(Melissa DuVant)
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The Mistress and Her New Toy Volume 3 Melissa DuVant Copyright © Melissa DuVant The right of Melissa DuVant to be identified as the
author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of
the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic
mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author. All characters in this book have no existence
outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any
individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure
invention. Table of Contents Chapter 1: An Unsteady Awakening Chapter 3: Cleaning and Introductions Chapter 6: Full-Angle Inspection Chapter 9: An Uncomfortable Ride Prisonette's Dilemma Chapter
5 Preview - Uncertain Roles Thanks to everyone that reads and enjoys my works! Chapter 1: An Unsteady Awakening Heather woke up, her head pounding, mouth dry. Vague memories of dancing at different clubs flickered through her mind, the press of bodies against each other, flesh-on-flesh. And then her hand being held, the touch strange, her own skin sliding against a smooth, slippery surface, that was somehow still warm. Her eyes were gunky, and she could feel the makeup there still. And the bed beneath her wasn't her own, although it felt soft and welcoming, the sheets luxurious around her. She must have gone back with someone, but where was she? And who were they? She slowly opened her eyes, to be met with low, hazy light, filtered through thick curtains. It was hard to make out details, her vision vague, but everything looked expensive, a gilt-edged mirror on the far wall letting her just about see herself, wrapped up in the sheets. She felt about - there was no-one else in the bed, not even a warm spot. And she was clothed still, in her tight dress from last night, the silver fabric hugging her curves. Her head was throbbing - there had to be some water somewhere! When she cast the sheets aside, the air was comfortably warm, but she had to scrabble to reach the edge of the bed, the mattress seeming far huger than it needed to be. When she moved off the bed, metal clicked, a weight making her stumble, dragging on one leg. Metal scraped her leg - she twisted to look at it, seeing a heavy metal ring around her ankle, a chain leading to a bed-post, the other end sealed with a heavy and secure padlock. What the hell was this? Heather gave it a shake, hearing the metal jangle, the sound making her head ache again, but she couldn't do more than make it slide around a little. And the one on her ankle was locked into place as well, without any way of releasing it, at least without the key. Where was she? And why was she locked to a bed? The chain was only a few meters long, limiting her movement - she could reach a nearby wall, but nothing further away, and definitely not the door or window. And the bed was far too heavy to move herself! 'Ah, you're awake, my dear. I wondered if you were going to sleep away the entire morning.' The voice was light and feminine, the speaker hard to see in the low light. It took Heather several blinks to focus, wiping sleep-gunk out of her eyes before she was able to properly look at them - a tall woman, her figure a perfect hourglass, compressed in at the waist, wearing an ankle-length skirt and long-sleeved blouse, a ridged corset in black and red helping with her shape. A long whip of white-blonde hair was tied into a high ponytail, while her arms were sheathed in elbow-long black gloves, made of something that captured the light, bright and shiny. She looked down at Heather - she was commandingly tall, moving with silent grace. 'You look as though you need to clean yourself up as well.' She stepped forward, getting closer to Heather, who found herself frozen in place, staring into the woman's eyes. A hand reached out, taking her chin and tilting her head. The touch felt strange - she could feel the woman's heat through the gloves, but they were plastic-smooth and slippery, removing the aspects of a human touch. 'Whaa...?' 'Shhhh.' The woman leaned in, kissing her, tongue hot and slippery as it pushed into Heather's mouth. Her heart started to pound, heat racing through her before the woman broke the kiss. 'You seemed interested last night, so we're going to have some fun together.' Her other hand plucked at the hem of Heather's dress, pulling it upwards and then over her head. Beneath, she was naked, air rushing against her body, along with a full-body blush, sudden awareness of her situation slamming into her, make her squeak nervously. 'You certainly seemed enthusiastic enough about it last night. A shame you were a little too drunk to have any fun with.' A hand suddenly gripped Heather's hair, hard enough to make her grasp, shaking her head, the woman whispering directly into Heather's ear, little puffs of air making her sigh and gasp. 'You said you wanted to be a good little girl, collared and cuffed.' A hand, sleek and smooth, slid over her bare buttocks, before lifting away and lightly spanking one, making Heather whimper. 'You see? I couldn't let such a lovely little thing as you wander off, so that's why you're chained into place. And you were getting very excited about it last night, before you passed out!' She twisted Heather's head to the side, before kissing her on the neck, hard enough that it was almost a bite. 'But I suppose you need to clean up now?' Heather could barely manage to speak, her focus shattered. 'I'm... I'm not into women...' 'Well, there's plenty of time to change that. But first, a shower for you.' She shoved Heather away, making her stumble backwards against the bed, before turning to the chain. Metal clicked as she released the padlock, then took the chain and walked away. This dragged at Heather's ankle, forcing her to move as well, or she would have been pulled over. 'Hey!' 'This way. Let's make you a little more presentable, hmmm? Your hair is rather mussed, and your makeup needs wiping off.' As she was walked along, she saw herself more clearly in the mirror - her makeup had indeed smeared and run overnight, her ears blobby dark patches, her lipstick messy and uneven, while her auburn hair was a mess of tangles and knots, in need of a good brushing. Having one ankle be continually pulled on made it hard to keep her balance, and forced her to keep moving, as she was pulled across the room, the woman opening another door. It was a large and luxuriously appointed bathroom, white porcelain and brass taps gleaming. Metal brackets jutted out from the walls, the woman winding the chain around one and then pulling it through, forcing Heather to move in closer, finding herself locked into position again. 'What is this? Who are you?' Irritation at being yanked around was starting to seethe through Heather, making her want to resist. 'You don't remember my introduction from last night? Well, that's a little rude.' Metal and ceramic chinked, the woman dropping a tablet into a mug, stirring it with a metal rod. 'Drink this.' The chain was tight enough that Heather could barely move, taking the glass, feeling the liquid fizz down her dry throat, the taste strange and slightly chalky. The woman had picked up a hose, twiddling the end and standing back from Heather. Water blasted out, making her scream as it hit her, splashing off the tiles behind her. It was bitterly cold, sucking away her heat, and she tried to raise her arms to protect herself, the stream powerful enough that it felt as though it was scouring off her skin. It slipped around her arms, slamming into her body. 'Hey! Stop tha...glurphhh...' The water hit her mouth, making her cough and splutter. She threw the mug, hoping to stop the woman, unable to see what she was doing. 'Hmmm, that was rather ill-behaved of you.' The torrent of water got even stronger, flicking all over her body. 'Now turn around so I can do your back.' The stream was so strong that it hurt, stripping away her skin, making her whole body jangle, the coldness making her eyes bulge. She wanted to scream, but didn't dare open her mouth. Staying there was making the pain increase, her skin getting chafed raw, and so she obeyed, turning around and offering her back up to the brutal torrent, writhing under the constant flow, feeling it play over her back, and then her buttocks, soaking into her hair. Once it cut off, then the cold water dripped off her body, making her shiver and whimper. Before she could cross her arms across her chest to try and warm herself, footsteps approached, hands grabbing her wrists. Metal clicked, tight bands pinching against her wrists, forcing them close together. She twisted against them, feeling anger heating her up, even through the cold shivers. 'Let me go!' Trying to move her wrists just made them hurt, the metal harder than her skin, rubbing and chafing. She twisted her body, butting a shoulder against the woman, before a hand grabbed her hair, making her gasp in pain as she was ragged around. 'Naughty girl! It looks like you need some further training.' The chain clicked as Heather staggered around, reaching the limit of her movement. 'I had hoped to start with something more advanced, but it looks like I might need to break you down first, and then build you up from nothing.' A hand slapped against her backside, a loud spank sound echoing out and making Heather whine in pain, before her hair was yanked back. Something slid into her mouth - a fat rubbery ball, moving behind her teeth, straps wrapping around her head. Her tongue slid against it, tasting the rubber, unable to move it now that it was buckled into place. She tried to push with her arms, sudden fear flooding through her, but couldn't get any purchase, feeling the stiff corset meet her scrabbling fingers. 'No resistance, kitten! You don't get to be bratty here.' Her head was dragged around again. 'I suppose I'll have to leash you. Well, you were going to end up collared sooner or later.' A hand wrapped around her throat, tightening and making it impossible to breath, pain hammering through her skull. She struggled again, fingers scrabbling against the corset, feeling her body weaken, the strength going from her knees, slowly getting lowered to the ground, ending up in a cold puddle. 'You will need to learn your place.' Leather wrapped around her neck - a stiff, cold band, slightly too tight, metal spikes on the inside digging into her skin. 'You did say that you wanted this experience, but would probably resist.' 'Mrhhm!' The taste of the rubber was making her feel queasy, the ball forcing her lips apart, making it impossible to speak. 'It looks as though I'm going to have to train you from the very basics. But we can have some fun together on the way - I'm sure I'll be able to make your body compliant.' A booted toe jabbed into her ribs, making her whine, trying to suck air in to dispel the burning pain in her lungs. 'I was hoping to make you into a bed-slave to start with, but it seems as though I'll have to start with the very basics. Well, that's no bad thing - I'll be able to shape you fully. And you'll be a good and obedient doll, won't you?' Heather tried to twist her arms, wanting to get the collar off, splashing around in the puddles of cold water on the floor. The spikes chafed and rubbed against her neck, the pain starting to increase. And with the gag on she couldn't even protest, just mumble and groan! The toes kicked against her again, rolling her onto her back before stamping into her belly, a heel-spike jabbing into soft skin. She was staring up at the woman now, feeling the weight pressing down onto her steadily increase, making her belly hurt, until she stopped wriggling. 'When you learn to behave, then you may be allowed speech and movement. Until then, you will have to accept restrictions.' Heather was pinned in place, the pain too much, making her go slack, slumping into the water and starting to shiver. 'Your body will be trained, and your mind will follow. Do not worry - you'll enjoy it, I'm sure.' The foot moved between her legs, the sole pressing against her slit, with enough force to make her whine, feeling it push slightly into her. 'You will be shaped into something far more useful than you currently are.' The foot started to grind back and forth, stirring up an inner heat, desire and shame flushing through Heather, her hips starting to shake in time with the foot. 'See? Your body knows what it wants, it just needs some work for your mind to accept your place.' She pressed down harder, her long skirt sliding and rustling, before bending down and unlocking the chain from around Heather's ankle. Heather was too confused and hurt to take advantage of this, still writhing around as the chain clicked into place on her collar, the weight enough to pull on her neck, making the spikes press harder on one side. 'Good girl. Nicely collared - that will help you learn your place. Now, let's get you downstairs. The dungeon is empty at the moment, so there's lots of room for your training.' She moved away, pulling on the chain. This put pressure on the collar, the spikes digging into the back of her neck, jabbing painfully, making her twist and roll, coming up onto her knees. 'Yes, that's it. Crawl. At your level, you're not allowed to walk just yet. Walking is for people and slaves of higher rank - not fresh meat.' She walked away, moving briskly, Heather trying to crawl to keep up, the tiles hard against her knees, getting dragged out of the bathroom and across the bedroom. Another doorway was opened up, revealing a small lift, the metal box seeming claustrophobically small. A hand touched against her head, making her shiver, gripping her hair to keep her there, sending more twitches of pain through her scalp. The lift plummeted downwards, the grip on Heather's hair keeping her silent, not wanting to get hurt any more. What was going on? Where was she, and who was this woman? She didn't want to be here! She mewled in confusion, then gasped in pain as she was lifted slightly up, strands of hair getting torn from her scalp. The lift-door opened, cooler air rushing in, lights blinking on. Compared to the soft and sultry lights above, these were harsh and bright, making pitiless metal gleam, cruel curves of chains and fetters catching the light. Along one wall were several metal cages, all empty, while one wall was covered with whips, crops, paddles and other harsh-looking implements. More items that Heather didn't recognize were laid out - a triangular wedge, a heavy wooden chair with thick leather straps on, other assemblages of wood and metal, all of which looked painful and cruel. She tried to stand, but was dragged forward, unable to get her feet beneath herself. 'I think the meat needs to be tenderized first. You seem nice and soft - this should show you what will happen if you disobey.' Heather was pulled towards the center of the room, where hooked-ended chains dangled from the ceiling, Heather's neck aching as she tried to twist and see it all. She felt the metal between her wrists get grabbed and pulled upwards, forcing her to bend over at the waist, sticking her butt out, now stood up. When she moved, she could feel something pulling on her wrists, trying to turn her head to see. Her hair kept falling across her eyes, but it looked as though there was a chain snagged over her wrist cuffs - she could twist around, but wasn't flexible enough to unhook it. She whined in protest, dribble seeping around the edge of the gag, splashing onto the cold stone floor of the dungeon. 'It's been a while since I've had to use a whip. I think twenty strokes should be a good starting number.' She heard the slither of leather, and then a loud crack, before pain exploded across her buttocks. Heather gasped, feeling her flesh getting stripped away, a vicious heat swelling across her backside. Another slapping crack, another impact, and the pain got even worse, a fat wad of dribble splashing out of her mouth. 'Mphhhh!' 'That's two. Another eighteen, and then we'll be done. I should make you count them, but we'll need more training before that, won't we?' Each impact seared deeply into her buttocks, stripping away skin, slicing deeply into her. She'd never experienced pain like this before! Her backside was on fire, making her twitch and dance around with every impact, her body forced to jerk and spasm. She could feel tears trickling down her face, the whip-strikes breaking her down, her thoughts fading, lost amidst the agony. There was no hope of being able to count the strikes herself, the pain too much, the cracks deafeningly loud. 'There we go.' The aching in her backside didn't fade, settling deeper and deeper into her skin, tears trickling down her face. 'I'll leave you here to think about your position. I hope you will adjust swiftly - then we can move onto more pleasurable activities.' A hand pressed against her buttocks, just the light touch sending a strong and vicious pain coursing through her. She whined into the gag again, trying to shake it off, not liking the heatwave of agony cascading through her. 'I don't think you need to see - that should help encourage your future obedience.' 'Mrmphhh!' Heather tried to protest, more dribble spilling over the gag, her head getting wrenched painfully upwards, soft and padded leather sliding over her eyes, everything going black. And then she was released, head dropping, still forced to bend over, her ass on fire from the whip-strikes, held in the uncomfortable position. She heard footsteps move away, leaving her alone, with nothing but her own whimpers and the pain sliced into her body. Footsteps, quieter but still sharp and heeled, sounded out, along with a light metallic tinkling. Heather shivered, feeling the pain still in her buttocks, the whip-marks hot and vicious. A hand touched her tortured meat, making her whimper into her gag. This felt different to the woman's hand though, or at least wasn't sheathed in slippery latex - instead it was wrapped in soft and slightly scratchy fabric. But even the light touch made the pain flare up, dragging another whimper from Heather's throat. 'Ah, Mistress has a new toy? Well, I hope you won't make as much mess as the last one. That was most unpleasant.' It was a woman, sounding slightly amused, her fingers poking harder. 'I suppose I'll have to look after you. And Mistress does get a little carried away sometimes.' 'Mphhh!' Heather wriggled, not liking the pain, or not knowing who was poking and prodding her. 'This may help. I should try and keep you intact for Mistress.' Fingers, now bare skin, touched against her buttocks, smearing some cool cream into her skin taking away the throbbing, stinging heat-pain. 'And I suppose it will be nice to have some company - at least once you progress beyond being slave-meat.' The fingers pressed harder, making Heather squeal and squeak. 'If you're a good girl, then you might be allowed to remove the gag soon. But until then, you're going to be a good little gag-slut.' The fingers slid between her buttocks, curving up to lightly finger her crotch, making her shiver and twitch. 'Mphhh!' She tried to twist away, kicking out with a leg, feeling it connect. There was a hiss of pain, following by an annoyed sigh. 'I may not be Mistress, but I am allowed to punish you, even if not as severely.' A hand spanked against her backside, the other one gently rubbing against her slit. Despite the position she was in, it felt good, driving off some of the chill around her. 'If you wish for further punishment, that can certainly be arranged. I'm not as skilled with the whip as Mistress, but can certainly use it.' 'Nphhh!' 'Good. So then be a good brat, and don't dare to kick me again. Understand?' Fingers pinched into her buttocks, twisting the skin painfully hard. 'Maybe if you're good, Mistress will let you punish me, but I doubt that will ever happen. Let's have a look at you.' Metal clicked, the hook between her wrists moving away, letting her move out of the bent-over position, glad to take the strain off her body. Hands groped her, squeezing her breasts, sliding over her belly, then up and down her arms. 'Hmmm. You're a dainty thing, aren't you? Quite petite.' The hands slid back over her breasts, cupping them more closely. 'You're going to look lovely on display, wrapped up in a harness, or in lingerie.' The hands were warm against her breasts, her nipples pressing into palms. She still couldn't see, thanks to the blindfold, but could feel the fabric of a dress pressing against her from behind. Even with the cream, her backside still ached! And what was the woman talking about - "on display?" What did that mean? She tried to speak through the gag, but couldn't do more than wetly mumble, feeling a dribble of spit splash down her chest. 'Messy! Maybe you should be muzzled. Like a little pet.' 'Mphhh!' Who was this crazy bitch? Heather tried twisting around, wanting to kick away from them again, but she was shoved instead, knocked off-balance, and she staggered forward, colliding within something solid and wooden, slumping against it. 'You want to be mounted on the wooden horse? That's brave of you, if a simple whipping made you cry.' 'Nphhh!' Heather shook her head in frustration and fear - she didn't know what that was and didn't want to find out! But she couldn't talk, and with her hands cuffed and her eyes covered, there was no nope of fighting back. 'If you're a good girl, then you'll be hurt less. So let's get your feet sorted first. Your posture is terrible.' She felt fingers slide into the back of her collar and pull, making the spikes dig into her throat, hurting and choking her as she was dragged backwards, trying not to stumble. 'I suppose I should go through your things and find out who you are, but that can wait. Mistress won't be happy if I slack off!' Having to walk backwards while being hurt was hard, Heather's arms twisting, trying to find something to stabilize herself with. Her fingers brushed against material again, but it twisted out of her grasp before she could grip it. The grip let go, with enough force that she kept moving, and then stopped, something snapping tightly around her neck, drawing her upwards, onto her toes. She whimpered in pain, feeling the tears start to form in her eyes again, powerlessness and fear mingling within her. 'If you kick me, then I'll hurt you. So be a good girl and stay still.' Despite the chilling words, the woman's voice was calm, almost cheerful, hands sliding down Heather's body. 'You might even get a little treat.' Lips, soft and warm, kissed against her belly, just beneath her navel, a tongue lightly licking her. 'I won't tell Mistress if you don't.' The lips kissed further down, just above Heather's slit, gentle and sweet now, making her shiver before gasping in another choking spasm of pain. The tongue slid into her, making her gasp and tense, going all the way up onto her toes. It stroked into her body, the lips sucking at her own pussy-lips, stirring up her pleasure and excitement. She could hear her own drawn-out gasp as she was forced towards pleasure, the sensation growing between her hips. When the tongue withdrew, she sighed in disappointment, trying to twist her hips forward, wanting more. 'Behave! And maybe then a treat - I've not been told I can't, after all.' Something clanked, metal being moved, and then a hand took her foot, lifting it up. Straps wound around her ankle and then the top of her foot, a weight dragging down on her leg. She could hear the thing being adjusted, still dazed from the almost-pleasure tingling through her. When her foot was released, it was put back down on the floor, her body still stretched out so she was on her tip-toes, but something metal was strapped beneath her foot now. She tried to relax and lower herself, but then felt spikes jab into her bare sole and heel, sharp enough to make her yelp, sending more dribble oozing down her chest. 'You need to learn poise and elegance. These get the job done faster than ballet-heels - if you don't walk properly, then you'll hurt yourself.' Heather experimentally bent her foot, feeling the spikes start to jab, and then whined in protest, as her other foot was wrapped and bound the same way. She had to stay up on her toes, or else the spikes would jab and poke into her soft soles! 'Good. That should get you started.' Heather twisted her arms, trying to break out of the cuffs, feeling the metal rings slide and twist on her wrists. They were joined together - not even on a chain, but a single piece of metal. When she jerked at it, all that did was make both of her wrists ache, her skin much softer than the metal. 'You'll learn. Or be trained. Now let's get you walking.' There was another kiss against her slit, this one lingering longer, the tongue sliding deeper into her body, making her shiver and gasp. 'You see? Your body knows to obey. There's no way out of here, even if you somehow managed to get out of the cuffs. So be a good slave-slut and obey - otherwise the Mistress will punish you more harshly.' Another long and languorous cunt-kiss, making her gasp, head spinning, wanting more, before the contact was broken. As it did, she relaxed, her weight shifting onto the spikes, making her yelp and tense up, the woman chuckling. 'You'll learn. Just like I did! Now, I'm going to remove the blindfold, and then we can start the posture exercises.' Hands fiddled with the straps around her head, the padded leather moving away, lighting flooding around it, stinging her eyes until they adjusted and she could see again. Stood in front of her was a taller woman, wearing a neat and old-fashioned maid's outfit, with a dress that reached to her ankles, high-heels just about visible beneath. Around her neck was a thick metal collar, the steel bright and shiny, complimenting her smooth, pale skin. Red-brown hair tumbled from her head, curling down her back, some of it knotted around a long metal pin. 'Mistress does have a thing for brunettes!' She smiled at Heather, before holding up a leash, clicking the metal tab, and then attaching it onto Heather's collar. 'Ah, the spiked collar! I remember having to wear that - it took me a while to be allowed to graduate past it. I wonder how long it will take you?' Heather whined again - she didn't want to wear a collar! Especially not one that jabbed and spiked into her skin! Or that was currently semi-choking her, holding her up on her toes, with the needle-spikes menacing her feet. 'If you don't obey, then there's always the kennels. Being on all fours all the time and forced to be nothing more than an animal is probably worse - so be good, otherwise that might happen to you. Now, start walking. Nice and slow.' She reached out, unclipping Heather from the ceiling, so she was only connected to the leash, and starting to walk backwards. Heather yelped as her weight dropped, the spikes stabbing into her before she rose onto her toes, having to stay on them or be hurt. This forced her legs to tighten up, her shoulders drawing back, as the maid turned around to look at her. 'That's it. Nice and elegant. Mistress likes her possessions to show good poise. No slouching!' Her own posture was, Heather had to admit, perfect and precise, her steps making her skirts fluff and sway around her hips, even as she twisted to keep Heather in view. She was taller than Heather, even without her heels, her maid dress covering her body except for her hands and face. 'The sooner you adjust, then the less painful it will be. Unless you like being hurt? I find it can be a pleasurable spice - although Mistress can be a little rough sometimes. But you should absorb most of her attentions now.' She pulled harder on the leash, spikes digging into Heather's neck, making her stumble and take an uneven step, some of her weight falling onto the spikes and making her yelp through her gag. It hurt! And she couldn't relax, otherwise it would hurt even more! She tried to protest through her gag, but it was so large that it stretched her jaw out, making it impossible to speak at all, so all she could do was make pathetic and weak mumbling noises, getting dragged forward. It was hard to pay attention to her surroundings with the risk of her feet getting lacerated if she relaxed too much, but the room was filled with instruments to cause pain and suffering, all sorts of whips and canes ready for use. Maybe she could grab one and escape somehow? But she had no idea where she even was still - or how she'd gotten here! Heather was pulled around the place, trying to remember her posture and dance lessons, keeping herself upright and on her toes. With these things tied into place, there was no hope of moving fast enough to escape! And she'd have to get out of the cuffs somehow, and get the damn collar off. 'Hmm, that's not bad. I suppose you've had some training before? So at least I won't have to train you from nothing. And you do have a nice body - slender and trim, and soft and sensitive. But you'll need to cooperate, otherwise you'll be forced. Which will hurt you a lot more than it'll hurt me or Mistress!' Heather squeaked again, not liking the sound of that. 'I hope you have good enunciation -Mistress dislikes sloppy speech as well. Although I suppose some of the new devices can be tested on you.' She smiled, although not in a friendly way. 'That's certainly better than having to go into them myself! The hellbox looks unpleasant. But it will be much better to see how you react to it.' She pulled on the leash, Heather staggering forward, pulled by the neck, falling against the woman. Even up on her toes, she only came up to the top of her chest, breasts providing some cushioning. An arm slid downwards, lightly squeezing between her legs, a finger stroking her slit. With the woman for support, it made it easier to stand up without risking any pain in her feet, but it meant having to accept a finger in her personal place, an unwanted violation that nevertheless made her feel warm and tingly. 'I wonder how much experience you have? I suppose I'll have to train your tongue at some point.' Heather's stomach rumbled, making her feel bizarrely embarrassed, despite the scenario she was in. The finger continued to tease her, another arm strong around her back. 'Food as well? If I release the gag, you'll have to be a good, silent girl. There's no-one that can hear you if you scream, and it gets very loud and echoey down here.' The arm tightened around her back, lifting her off the floor, the maid turning her around and then sitting her on a cage. The metal was cold against her butt, making it flare with pain from the whipping, but at least she didn't have to worry about her feet now! 'Sit there. Don't move.' She turned away, Heather tensing up, considering running for a moment - but there was nowhere to run to, even without the spikes! But without the pain, she could focus a little better. Every time the maid moved, there was a faint tinkling noise - there was a small metal bell-ball on her waist, chiming as she moved. She moved to a cabinet, pulling out a strange-looking device, a plastic tube which she filled with a paste, giving it a shake before screwing it onto something that looked like a snorkel-mouthpiece, except connected to a wide strap. 'You'll need to keep your strength up. Mistress likes to be rough with a new girl - I'll give you a little extra. Oh, and we'll need this as well.' There was a small grunt of effort as she took down a large metal block, marked like a battery, with wires neatly coiled into place, and then bought both items over. 'Let's have a good relationship, OK? No screaming or otherwise being a problem?' She patted Heather on the head, making her flinch, still unsure what was going on, before starting to unbuckle the gag. The fat rubber ball was now wet and sticky with her spit, a large dollop spilling out and splashing onto her thighs. 'Plea...' A hand slapped her cheek, hard enough to make her gasp, turning her head. 'You've not earned a voice yet!' Another slap, this one harder, making her cheek throb in pain. 'Now open wide.' Her mouth hung open, a rubber mouthpiece getting shoved into place. The plastic tube now filled her vision, attached securely to the mouthpiece. Slightly bitter paste started to flow into her mouth, forcing her to swallow or choke, filling her belly with cold slime. 'Good. Now, into the cage.' She stood back, gesturing at Heather. It was hard to see properly with the feeding-tube in the way, the slime still sliding into her mouth, force-feeding her. 'Either you move, or I hurt you.' Heather whined, but only for a moment before she had to swallow, then carefully got off the cage, staggering forward, all her weight on her toes. 'Good. You've not got the stamina for the standing cage yet, so it's all fours for you.' The leash was grabbed, pulling her down and forward. Ahead of her was a small, low cage - just barely big enough for her, the front open. The floor was covered in small, blunt spikes. She tensed up, before the leash was pulled, forcing her to stagger forward, unable to resist the force. 'Down.' Heather tried to resist as the leash was pulled down, but she lacked the strength, dropping into an awkward stance, the front of the cage looming closer and closer. Fear started to course through her, the cage far too small, the bars thick and strong. She wanted to protest, but that made her cough and splutter as the food-slime went into her throat, disrupting her breathing and weakening her further. And then she was shoved forward, her head knocking against the cage. The door clanged shut behind her, locking into place. The metal spikes jabbed into her thighs, making it impossible to find any comfortable position, any movement producing more pain. Through the bars, she could see the maid take the battery, the block heavy enough she was having to strain to move it. The wires connected onto the cage somehow, the woman smiling from the other side of the bars, then clicking the battery on. 'Nphhh!' A shock went through the spikes, into Heather's thighs and calves, everywhere that was touching the sharp points. 'That should keep you busy. No rest for a few days, to make you nice and soft - and give time to make sure that no-one will follow you. I'd prefer it if you didn't soil yourself as well.' Another shock, Heather trying to wriggle around, but there was no way to avoid it, her own bodyweight torturing her by pressing her against the spikes. When she moved, her backside pressed down, the whip-lashes burning, the wounds reigniting from another shock. 'I have other duties to attend to, and so will leave you down here. I suppose you've been a good girl, so I'll leave the light on. You'll probably have plenty of time in the darkness later, so make the most of it now.' 'Nph...Ghkkk, hckkk...' Heather whined, then choked and spluttered as more of the food-slime made her gag. Each movement just made different parts of her body hurt! But she was powerless to do anything as the maid walked away, disappearing from view, leaving Hether alone with her suffering. About the Author Melissa DuVant writes a variety of BDSM-inspired stories, such as Digital Slave and is one of the co-writers of the St Michael's University setting. When not writing, she is generally planning RPG campaigns, reading or cooking. Prisonette's Dilemma Preview Chapter Five: Uncertain Roles Making friends is hard. But that doesn't
mean Eliza wanted to be locked into a torture chamber with some class-mate
she's never met! And now they're locked and shackled together, forced into
closeness and made to torment and tease each other. Made to hurt each other,
bound into confinement, never allowed to be apart, but never allowed to climax
or enjoy each other's presence. Soon, all Eliza can think of is the other
girl's soft body and warm eyes, but touching her brings pain! All Eliza wants
is the other girl's gentle touch, but without the shock or the lash... Will she
ever be allowed to take her pleasure with the other girl? It was dark around her, pushing in on her, the air thick and hot with her own breath. Eliza was inside a metal box or crate, just about large enough to hold her. She couldn't feel the jolting sensation of being carried, she couldn't hear anything... Where was she? And what was she wearing? She patted herself down - it felt like a uniform, crisp and fresh, but there was a metal belt around her waist and between her legs, something pushed inside of her, although at least it was currently passive. Her nipples were still sore from the clamps Sophia had applied, but the pain had died down, scratches almost healed already. She couldn't have been out for that long then, probably not even a few hours. Something felt different, and it took her several minutes to place it, as her fingers moved up around her neck - the collar, the omnipresent leather strap that showed her position and rank, had changed. There was still something tight around her neck, but it was now a heavier thing of plastic and metal, a chunky powerpack on the back of her neck. She whimpered, the sound making a soft echo around the cramped space. Someone wanted to control her - who, and why? And where was she? The device between her legs buzzed for a moment, pleasure forced upon her, before going still. Who was doing this? Was it the nurses? A vision of their blank, faceless heads, staring at her, latex-wrapped hands reaching for her, ready to torment her further, made her whimper again. Would they drag her into an examination room, strap her legs into stirrups and spread her wide? Or use her as a test subject, restrain her and electrocute her sensitive parts, strap a mask over her face and limit her oxygen supply until she was gasping and panting? She bit her lip, or tried to, finding her mouth locked open. She explored the intruder with her tongue - it was a double set of metal rings, one behind her teeth and one in front, forcing her mouth open, and was too tight to push out. It was buckled around her head, the straps locked on with metal clasps she couldn't remove. Was she going to be abused by men, her soft mouth used as a fuck-hole, unable to refuse? She couldn't talk, even to curse or plead, unable to make more than rough approximations of words and soggy mumbles. She went silent, trying to force herself to relax. She couldn't hear any sounds of movement, maybe she had been forgotten? A shock nipped at her neck, the collar giving her a mild shock, making her yelp. Although it was mild, staying in here would only invite further punishment. She pushed against the top of her container, finding it unlocked, the lid opening, allowing her out and for fresh air to rush in - it tasted sweet and cool, not hot and clammy with her own breath and sweat. She pushed herself to her feet and stepped out of the crate, looking around. It was one of the student rooms, but one of the smallest, most cramped ones, little more than a cell in its own right. No windows, the only light coming from a bare lightbulb suspended from the ceiling. There was a single bed, metal frame bolted to the floor, with cuffs and chains at each corner, so the occupant could be restrained. And another crate, about the same size, but of plastic rather than metal. Eliza checked the door - locked, with no key. Although there was a key in the chest she had climbed out of. So someone had chosen to let her free? A sound came from the other chest, something moving inside it. Eliza moved to open it, revealing Sophia inside, curled up to fit into the cramped space. She was dressed in a fresh school uniform as well, a chastity belt shining between her legs, a chunky collar around her neck, four lights shining. Her mouth was also forced open with a ring-gag, her eyes wincing from the light. A spark snapped from her collar and she grunted in pain before seeing Eliza. Eliza took a step forward and extended a hand towards her, helping her stand. She could feel Sophia's nerves, her hand shaking as they touched. The vibe buried inside of her started, moving to twist and buzz. What was going on? Eliza moved to check the room for cameras, any way that people might be observing them. She couldn't see any, but they could be hidden, or watching through concealed holes, and the vibrator was distracting enough to make a full check hard. Sophia bumped into her from behind and gave her a tight hug. Eliza's collar sparked, spiking her neck with pain, vibrator still lively. Eliza pawed at her chastity belt - it was locked tightly on, enough that she couldn't get a finger in, no chance of getting the belt off, or removing the intruder from her body. It was comforting having Sophia so close, the girl's scent soothing, despite, or perhaps because of, all the torments they had been through so far. Memories of the dungeon, of Sophia's face as she had pulled the plastic bag over Eliza's head, forcing her to gasp and pant for breath, the clamps tight on her nipples, brought a twinge of suspicion into Eliza's mind. Was the girl part of her punishment, the toy of a dominant? Or were her feelings genuine? 'ar oo oay?' Eliza tried to talk through the gag, her tongue flapping against the metal ring. Sophia clung on, body soft and warm against Eliza . 'Noooo! Whup iss gophing on?' The vibrator settled into a steady rhythm, pleasure rippling through Eliza. It was soothing and pleasant, almost like regular sex, with a trusted partner, not forced or painful, or with any violation or harm. 'I on't oo.' Sophia's tongue, waggling in her mouth, was strangely cute, pink and vulnerable, and Eliza leaned in to give her a kiss, pushing her own tongue into the vulnerable, open mouth of the other girl. It was a strange, intrusive gesture, Sophia unable to resist, their tongues sliding over each other, before a savage barb of electricity speared them both, tongues tensing against each other. For a moment, Eliza was strangely thankful for the gag, otherwise she might have bitten Sophia's tongue. They pull apart, Sophia sitting on the bed as Eliza checked the door again, finding it still locked. The vibes died away, leaving her unfulfilled, but this was better than being hurt. Other than the collars, and the belts sealing their pussies, there didn't seem to be anything else that could hurt her for the moment, other than Sophia. Maybe, for now, she was... safe? She approached Sophia, taking a seat on the floor, resting next to the girl, leaning on her legs. She was so warm and sweet, gentle and soft! Why can't more people be like this, instead of harsh and cruel? The vibe started again, a steady throbbing, and she could feel the pressure rising again inside of her. Sophia reached out, slowly and gently, patting her hand against Eliza's head, before Eliza grasped the hand and held it close against her own cheek, glad of the human contact, the simple pleasure of a touch without pain or degradation. 'Elipha...' From here, Eliza could see that Sophia's crotch was buzzing as well, the scent of her own desire pungent. Eliza started rocking her hips, trying to grind against the belt, wanting to finish herself off, blocked by metal. Sophia tilted down, bringing her face close to Eliza's. With her mouth forced open, dribble spilt out and fell onto Eliza's clean blouse, staining the white fabric, making it cling to Eliza's flesh, turning translucent. The vibe cut off, a savage barb of electricity biting her neck. They both whined in disappointment as Sophia squeezed her legs together, clearly wanting her own vibrator to start again. Eliza kissed Sophia's leg, or at least nuzzled against it, brushing her tongue against the girl's skin, savoring the taste. Sophia grabbed at Eliza's breast, a harsh, grabbing caress, and Eliza felt her collar shift. It tightened around her neck, making it harder to breathe. She stood and staggered away from Sophia, leaning on a wall and panting, fighting for air. Sophia rose and followed her, eyes bright, chest shifting as she panted, clearly still wanting release. 'Eliho, lehh me touhh ou!' Eliza fell to her knees, still struggling to breathe as Sophia reeled from another shock from her own collar. Stood above Eliza, she appeared powerful and dominant, despite the gag, collar and belt locked onto her body. Eliza felt the familiar urge to obey, to please, to bow and beg and scrape to avoid harm, rise up in her. But Sophia wasn't like that, was she? 'We an akke ouelves um by uching ech othur.' She stepped forward again, her hand brushing against Eliza's head, in time with another spike of electricity. As she spread her legs, her hand pulled Eliza's head towards her crotch, with her tongue rubbing uselessly against the chastity belt. She could taste it, the edge of Sophia's desire, juices starting to seep through the belt, the smell making Eliza woozy. Sophia pulled her away from the wall, then pushed her over and straddled her, pinning her to the ground. She started grinding her crotch against Eliza, the metal scraping against skin, as her fingers plucked at the buttons of Eliza's blouse, her body now twitching from constant electrical shocks. Eliza tried to hug her, barely able to summon up any strength, lightly running her hands along Sophia's body. The belts knocked together as they scissored, still unable to achieve orgasm, with the belts locked on and the vibes currently inactive. They kissed again, tongues slipping together, Eliza tasting Sophia, hot and wet, their spit mingling together. Eliza's vision wavered, her breath cutting short, collar tightening again and more spikes of electricity tormenting her. Sophia grabbed her tightly, nails pricking at Eliza's flesh, somehow even that pain feeling good. The last light on Sophia's collar blinked out. 'Ophia...' There was an audible click as Sophia's collar tightened as well, leaving her gasping for breath. The sensations were too much and Eliza tried to crawl away, pinned between Sophia's legs. Sophia grabbed hold, pulling herself tightly against Eliza in pain and fear, spit flowing freely, further staining their uniforms. Eliza managed to crawl away, retreating into the furthest corner. The collar loosened, just enough to let her gasp in several breaths, the lightning sparks diminishing at the same time. She looked at Sophia - several of her own blouse buttons had come undone, her top falling open to reveal her pale, tender flesh beneath, stained with drool. Eliza gasped in breath until the sparks in her eyes diminished, looking at the crates again. The one she had been in was clearly thicker, and made of metal rather than plastic - would the walls act as a faraday cage? There was little choice but to find out, as Eliza took a deep breath then stepped across the room and hugged Sophia tightly. The collar immediately tightened and shocked her with a zap, the pain forcing the scant air from her lungs. With her arms around Sophia, she twisted her off balance, bundling her into the chest, Sophia's eyes going wide as she realized what was happening. 'Nuhu!' Sophia slapped Eliza across the face, the band of the gag doing little to absorb the strike. 'Nuuuuh! Immm noph oinn itt!' 'Immm ooorry...' Eliza forced herself to ignore the pain of the slap, the impact somehow crueler and more painful than the barbs of lightning from the collar, or even the burning of her lungs from the lack of air. She pushed down, forcing Sophia down into the crate, then slammed the lid down and sat on it. She could feel the lid shaking beneath her, as Sophia pushed back, but she wasn't strong enough to push Eliza off. She twisted the key in the lock, the crate now held shut. Sophia continued to strike against the metal as Eliza stroked the crate, feeling betrayed, wanting more time with Sophia, but without having to endure choking and electrocution. 'Oorrry, Ophia...' The vibrator inside of her suddenly sparked into life, at full power, making her sag onto the crate for support, pushed into an orgasm, a wave of pleasure overwhelming her, leaving her gasping and reeling, needing long minutes to recover herself, even after the vibrations stopped. When her vision had returned, she stood, trying to ignore the soft sobs coming from inside the crate, able to properly breathe again. She looked at it more carefully, fingering the key. There was a small slot for air, with a panel that could be slid over it, restricting the airflow to a minimum and probably rendering the occupant mostly unconscious. It was on wheels, currently locked into position, but meaning it could be easily moved. Would someone be coming to take Sophia away, or is she Eliza's now? Her hand tensed possessively on the crate, a droplet of spit flowing onto it, as Eliza wiped it away with a sleeve, not wanting the metal tarnished. |