A Bestiary of Unnatural Women (5 page)

She explained further, “Besides, I can barely
reach it. I can force my arms up there briefly, but I can’t hold
them there for long enough to try all combinations. That’s why I
have no choice but to get someone to release it. Please unlock it
for me. The combination is five eight six nine.”

“Five eight six nine?”

“That’s right. That’s the combination. Five
eight six nine.”

“Five eight six nine.” Rob wrote the numbers
on a piece of paper. He noted that all the numbers had a similar
shape that would make it even more difficult to read the right
combination unless your eyes were within a couple of inches of the
lock.

The woman’s predicament puzzled him and, when
he was puzzled by anything, Rob automatically shifted into
problem-solving mode. Rob’s insistence on being methodical was one
of the characteristics that made him so good at debugging computer
programs but which made him so boring around other people. Rob’s
first step in solving any problem is to gather as much information
as possible; a process that can be long and tedious, but is
critical for success.

“Why is your bra locked on?” he asked.

“It’s a punishment bra. It’s locked on so
that I can’t remove it myself no matter how much it hurts.”

“Does it hurt to wear it?” Rob didn’t know
much about bras but he did know that they weren’t supposed to hurt,
even when a woman wore one all day.

“Yes. It hurts like hell. Please take it off
now.”

“In a minute,” he said absentmindedly then
continued, “Why does it hurt?”

“Because the inside of the cups have
thumbtacks glued to them and they are poking me.”

“You mean that you are bleeding inside your
bra?”

“No. It won’t be gross when you take it off.
Thumbtacks aren’t that sharp. They just press hard little points
against me. When I move, the points rub against my skin, irritating
it and making me a little bit raw where they're digging in. The
longer I wear this thing and the more I move, the more it hurts.
Right now it hurts every time I breathe. It even hurts to talk to
you. That's why you have to unlock it now.”

“How many tacks are glued inside it?” Rob
stepped around and leaned close to examine the cups. Now that she
mentioned the tacks, he could see little bumps where the heads were
pressing against the leather on the inside. There were bumps all
over the surface.

“I don’t know. Lots. They’re all over, glued
as close together as possible. There must be a hundred of
them.”

“That must hurt a lot,” he commented.

“It sure as hell does. Especially on the
bottom of the cups where the full weight of my breasts are
supported by them. And around the nipples, of course. Nipples are
sensitive and the points are positioned so that they stick right
into them. Please unlock it now.”

“Soon. I promise. But first, I need to know a
few things. How long have you been wearing it?”

“Since I got dressed this morning. About six
hours. I can’t stand to have it on any longer.”

“Sure you can. If you’ve been wearing it for
six hours then a few more minutes won’t make much difference.”

“It makes a difference. Believe me. Right now
every minute makes a difference.”

“Who locked it on you?” He had to know if he
would make anyone angry by releasing her.

“Me. I put it on myself.”

“You put it on yourself?” Rob couldn’t
believe what she said.

“Yes. That’s what I said. I put it on myself.
It’s not easy to reach the lock but I can manage to fit it together
and spin the dials if I stretch.”

“Who made you do that?”

“Nobody made me do it. I did it to
myself.”

“Why?”

“To punish myself. It’s a punishment bra. The
only reason that any woman would put a thing like this on herself
would be to punish herself. And now I’ve been punished enough so I
need someone to take it off.”

“Why did you pick me to take it off?”

“Why not you? I just walked around until I
saw someone in an office who looked like he would be nice and
helpful. That’s you. Your building is at the edge of the campus, so
I didn’t have to walk so far.” The woman looked over her shoulder
at Rob. “Are you going to unlock it?”

“Do you work at the university?”

“No. I work in an office tower a couple of
blocks from here. I put in some overtime today because I can dress
like this instead of wearing my usual business suit.”

“Why didn’t you ask someone where you work to
unlock you?”

“I’m not going to let anyone that I work with
know that I’d wear a thing like this.” She looked at him like he
was an idiot. “Unlock it now, please. Five eight six nine.”

“In a minute. Just be patient. I’ve got to do
something first and then I’ll be right with you.” The first step in
solving a problem is to gather information. The second step is to
consult an expert. He sat at his computer and began typing
furiously. That’s where I come in to the picture. He opened a chat
connection to me and typed a quick description of what had
transpired. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. A woman had come
into Rob’s office wearing a tack-lined punishment bra? She claimed
to have locked it onto herself? And she had chosen Rob to unlock it
for her? Was she insane? At first I thought that Rob was telling me
some fantasy that he was having, but he assured me that it was
really happening and he needed advice.

I typed back, “Don’t do anything hasty.
There’re a lot of possibilities here. Ask her what she did that to
deserve to be punished.”

A minute later, he typed back, “She won’t
tell me. She said that if I don’t unlock her right now, she’s going
to leave and find someone else to help her.”

I didn’t want that to happen. Rob deserves
some fun and this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It was a
good thing that he got in touch with me because he’d never figure
out how to exploit the situation properly. “Tell her that you’re
going to unlock her in a few minutes but you have to do some stuff
first. Tell her to be patient because she’ll get unlocked faster if
she waits to let you do it than if she has to go out and find
someone else and explain herself all over again.”

There was a pause then he typed back, “Ok. I
did that.”

I thought for a minute, then got an idea. I
typed, “Now, ask her to turn around. When she isn’t looking, you
grab her shirt and hide it. Do it quietly so that she doesn’t know
where you put it. You can unlock her after you’ve secured her
blouse. But don’t give the blouse back until you’ve talked to me
again.” I’ve known Rob for several years and I know that he’s a
pushover when it comes to women. I thought that he’d need my
guidance to keep the upper hand. I didn’t know that he’d
immediately understood the implications of taking the woman’s shirt
hostage and was already executing my plan even better than I
anticipated.

Rob told the woman, “Turn around and clasp
your hands behind your neck.”

She looked at him. “That’s going to hurt.
Raising my hands like that is going to push my breasts against the
tacks.”

He shrugged. “You’re hurting now. It’ll only
take a few seconds to unlock your bra and then you’ll be free.”

The woman laid her shirt across the back of a
nearby chair, turned and raised her hands to clasp them behind her
neck. She moaned loudly as she assumed the position. “Hurry. This
hurts like hell.”

“Okay.” Rob could do better than to merely
hide the blouse, he carried it to his desk, threw it into a drawer
and locked it.

“What are you doing?” the woman whimpered.
The tacks were punishing her severely now. She asked because she
could not see him when she was facing away and holding her head
straight with her hands clasped behind her neck.

“Getting the combination,” he replied. “I
wrote it down.”

“Five eight six nine,” the woman hissed
through clenched teeth. “You just had to ask.”

“Oh, right.” Rob put his face close to the
lock and turned the rings to their proper position. His fingers
tingled where the brushed against the soft skin on the woman’s
back. He had never touched a woman as intimately as this
before.

The spindle slipped out of the lock and the
ends of the bra strap came apart, slipping out of the loops at the
end of the shoulder strap. The woman lowered her hands and gingerly
pulled the cups off her breasts, whimpering softly as the points of
the tacks scraped against her tender flesh.

She did not turn around until she had raised
her hands to cover her breasts, shielding her modesty from Rob’s
sight. The bra dangled from her right hand.

He said, “I’d like to see that,” and took the
bra in his hand. She relaxed her fingers enough to let him take it
from her.

The leather cups were stiffer than he
anticipated. Mostly because, as she had said, there were dozens of
thumbtacks glued to the inside of each cup, probably with a good
strong epoxy. They were packed so densely that almost no leather
could be seen between the broad heads. While he was examining the
torture device, she was scanning the room, looking for her shirt.
She wanted to cover herself and saw that it was not lying across
the back of the chair where she had put it.

“Where’s my shirt?”

“Umm. It’s safe. Don’t worry. I haven’t lost
it.”

“Give it to me.”

“Soon. Not right now. We’ve got some things
to discuss first.”

“Give my shirt to me right now,” she snapped
in irritation, trying unsuccessfully to keep her fear from
showing.

“Or what? You can leave if you want.”

She looked down at her hands covering her
naked breasts. “I can’t leave like this.”

“I guess not.” He held the bra out to her.
“You could put this back on. It’s not like real underwear. It’s
more like a leather bikini top. Kind of kinky looking, but it
covers enough that they can’t arrest you for walking around in
it.”

She looked at her punishment bra. She
couldn’t walk out wearing only the bra. Someone that she knew might
see her on the street. And even if nobody saw her, her breasts were
already so sore that she didn’t think that she could stand to press
them back into those spiked cups. But worst of all, the only way
that she would be able to keep the bra in place would be to re-lock
it and then she’d be right back where she started, looking for
someone to unlock it for her. “I can’t do that.”

“I can certainly see why you wouldn’t want to
lock this thing back on yourself.” He smiled his best evil smile.
“Don’t look so horrified. You’re going to get out of this all
right. It’s just going to take a little cooperation. I did you a
favor by unlocking this. Now, I’d like a favor in return.”

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing much. I’d like to see your breasts.
You may not believe this, but I’ve never seen a woman’s naked
breasts before. Except in movies. I’d like to see real breasts.
Okay?”

With obvious reluctance, the woman lowered
her hands to her waists.

Her breasts were round and heavy. But
natural. If Rob had known to look for scars from plastic surgery,
he would have found none.

They had been the woman’s pride and joy since
puberty. Men stared at them where ever she went, keeping her always
aware of them. Which was exactly why she had chosen to punish
them.

“You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve
ever seen,” Rob said spontaneously.

Thought she was humiliated by being forced to
expose herself to this young man, at the same time, his
appreciation of her beauty was so obviously heartfelt and sincere
that she felt flattered. “Thank-you.”

He leaned close to examine her flesh. “I
assume that they aren’t normally so bumpy and mottled.”

“No,” she replied, looking down. “That’s what
the points of the thumbtacks did to them. They’ll get smooth in a
few minutes. It may take a little longer for the redness to
fade.”

“May I touch them?”

She sighed. What choice did she have? “If
you’re gentle. They’re awfully tender right now.”

He stroked her with the lightest of caresses.
“You're perfect.”

“Thank you. May I have my shirt back
now?”

“In a minute. I have something to do first,”
he replied and returned to his keyboard.

After filling me in with what had transpired,
I was encouraged. Making her clasp her hands behind her neck and
locking the blouse up in his drawer were good moves. There was hope
for Rob yet. The question was how to leverage his slim advantage
into something more effective. Right now he and the woman were in a
standoff. She didn’t want to expose herself to public ridicule but,
if he tried to push her too hard, she might decide to have him
arrested for sexual assault and endure the ensuing humiliation. All
she had to do was start screaming and claim that he’d attacked her.
I worried about that. A woman who locked a tack-lined bra onto
herself and then asked a strange man to remove it for her couldn’t
be all that mentally stable.

“Tell her that you need to know what she did
to deserve this punishment before you can give her shirt back,” I
typed. “Tell her that a necessary part of any punishment is the
confession.” I thought that maybe he could exploit her obvious need
to punish herself and glean more useful information from her. It
turned out that I was right. I added one more instruction for Rob.
“Mute your speakers and turn Skype on. Try to get the microphone
close enough to the woman so that I can hear what she says.”

Rob understood the power of confession. He
had been a good Catholic before he abandoned his faith halfway
through high school. He moved his visitor chair in front of his
desk but turned it so that it was facing away from where he would
sit. “Sit here for a minute,” he told the woman. She did not bother
trying to hide her bountiful breasts any longer. She kept her hands
by her sides as she sat in the chair. He handed the punishment bra
to her before returning to his own chair behind his desk.