Having It All (33 page)

Jim nodded and blew a perfect blue smoke ring her way. “I know,” he said, watching the ring dissolve as the exhaust fan sucked it through the vent in the wall. “It's the slower, rougher speed that does that. When my favorite butt plug gets that way, it drives me nuts.”

“This,” Sandy suddenly shouted, jumping up and walking over to fan the cigar smoke away from Jim's face, “is not about you. This is MY story. Okay?”

“Okay. Sorry. Please continue. You're giving me a woody.” He laughed.

She sat back down, still fanning cigar smoke. “I was exhausted and getting depressed as I hung there. Visualize this: I had no hearing, speech or sight and my head was tightly sealed in latex and leather, right?”

“Right. I can visualize that.”

“My elbows were pulled up and nearly together by the chain that went to the overhead pulley and then down to my closely chained feet that were raised about a foot off the floor, so I was resting just on my knees, which happened to be locked close together…did I mention that?”

“The knee chains? No, I don’t think you did, but it’s a nice touch. Don't want your thighs flapping around when you're chained like that, do you?” Jim smiled. If there was one thing Sandy didn't have it was fat, flabby thighs. Sandy did not return the smile. She was pissed that he was taking this story so lightly. But before she got started again, Jim added an additional comment, “And I didn't realize that you had set it up with your feet pulled off the floor by the pulley chain to your elbows. Wicked, to say the least. You did one hell of a job.”

“Yes. Yes. You got that right.” Sandy settled back into her story mode.”Elbows and knees very tightly chained together. The only way to ease the tension on my elbows was to raise my feet even higher and that took a lot of effort because of the tit chains, which were linked through the second pulley, and were connected to my hands behind my back. At some point, I managed to bring my feet further up and grabbed the toes of my shoes with my hands. This lessened the tension on my upper arms and elbows, but it solved nothing else and was hell on my nips.”

“I'll bet,” said Jim sympathetically.

Sandy continued as though he hadn't said anything, “When I finally had to let go, my feet went back downward and the elbow chains tightened, shoving my tits out again and stretching the nipples with the damned Triple Tees on them. I yelled and screamed until my voice was shot, but, of course, no one could hear me.”

“Any idea how long you were there?”

“No. Not a clue. I started the crappy plan in the early morning, but by that time, I had no idea how long I had been there.”

“Well, since you are here now and since I didn't release you, how did you get free, if I may be so bold to ask?”

“It was an accident. I had gone limp and dozed off, hanging there in the cellar, so well bound that I would never get free. The keys, by the way, for the locks and cuffs and shackles, as much as I could recall before I put on the hood and stuff, were about four feet away, on the floor to my right, but they might have been a mile because there was no way I could get near them. So, I did what I always do. I went to sleep.”

“Good interim solution. Relax and think it out.”

“Weird as it was, I remember dreaming that I was being kept in some medieval dungeon by a sadistic woman who was intent on my not having her son as a husband. The dream was, as usual, very vivid and I did not wake up until she was swinging her whip. When the whip hit, I screamed and then passed out.”

“Your dreams are always incredible,” Jim offered, still blowing smoke rings.

“The next thing I know, I'm on the floor and my tits are killing me. The Triple Tees were ripping my nipples off and I was not free. But, I was no longer chained to the rafters and, from what I could tell, the pulley chains were laying on top of me.”

“Oh shit. Of course,” Jim said with sudden enthusiasm. “I forgot to finish that job.”

“You left the pulleys so they'd break?”

“No. I just nailed them in place and intended to put in lag bolts later. But when I did the work, I didn't have the correct size bolts, so I nailed the pulleys up there and then forgot about it.”

“Good thing for me.”

“Indeed. Yes. So, finish your story.”

“Well, the first thing I needed to do was find a key for the cuffs on my wrists. I wasn't sure in which direction they might be because the fall had probably repositioned me on the floor. I started to slide around slowly, trying to find the keys and then felt them under my legs, just above the knee chains. That was a good thing. I could have spent hours sliding around the cellar floor like a snake, looking for the ring of keys. At least my arms and legs were now free, I mean, they were extendable. The knee chains and elbow cuffs were still there, but now I had some movement and was able to flex the aching joints.

“Anyway,” Sandy continued. “From there on it was just slow going. My arms and legs were really tired and sore and getting the right key in the right slot took a lot of effort. Once the one wrist cuff came off, I went to work on the elbows. Those new cuffs are really easy to unlock...a lot easier than the usual handcuffs because the key hole has that little indentation around it, sort of like a countersunk hole, so you just ease the key into the depression and it slides into the lock.”

“That was a special feature I added when they built those cuffs and shackles,” said Jim brightly. “I'm glad it worked out for you. I haven't tried it myself. Yet.”

“So,” continued Sandy, taking a deep breath as though she had just now escaped the basement episode, “I got the elbows free, doing only one cuff for the time being, and then I unlocked the head harness. I pulled it and the hood off and I was so happy that I cried. It was soaking wet and smelled of my shampoo and sweat. Icky! I pried the miserable rubber dick out of my mouth and then just lay there crying, wondering how I had been so dumb.”

“So, was that it?”

“Well, sort of. I was soaked under the rubber stockings and leotard and a lot of fluid had run into the stockings, making them feel like leaky rubber boots. Lying on the floor, they leaked about a quart of body fluids and that was pretty gross. I always forget that latex hose fill up with sweat. It would be smart to put little grommets into the end of the toes so the damned things would drain.”

“Good idea,” said Jim. “I'll drop Heidi an email and make the request that she do this in the next dozen pair we order.”

“You think she'll do that?”

“You bet she will. I think we are probably her best customers and she knows it.”

“Well then, I can cross that issue off my shit list,” laughed Sandy.

“Anything else?”

“The leg chains left deep imprints in my thighs and I am still sore there where they dug in. We need to come up with some sort of spring-loaded cuffs or other system that will give a little in areas of the body that increase in size when flexed…like the biceps and lower thighs.”

“I know. That's something I have been wrestling with for quite awhile. The only present remedy is to set the diameter of the cuff or the chain loop so that it is a bit loose when the arm or leg is extended and tightens up when the joint is bent.”

“Right. And…” Sandy stopped.

“Yes? What?”

“Well, I think we need some sort of safety for this kind of thing. Since we both tend to self bind, we need a sure fire escape system.”

“I agree. The physical aspect is not really too difficult, but the psychological elements are tougher.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you just pointed out that from the start, what was really getting you off was the prospect that you could
not
get free. You had lost control and that turned the heat up even higher than the usual self-torture kind of like whipping yourself with a soggy rag, knowing that it's not going to do much.”

“But what about a physical safety net?”

“For one thing, having a pair of heavy duty bolt cutters nearby is a pretty good remedy. In an emergency, we cut the chains. It takes, as you well know, considerable force to make them work, but they are more or less foolproof.”

“I'm not sure that I could have gotten the leverage if I had them. I would rather have access to extra keys, at least for the critical restraints.”

“Right. However, even if you have keys, they take time and effort too, as you discovered. Another good safety is using snap hooks and not locks.”

“How is that going to help?”

“If you had used a snap hook on your ankles instead of a padlock, you could have released it when you pulled your feet up behind you. Same for the pulley chain to ankle connection. Same for the pulley chain to the wrist cuffs. By using these in critical places, you leave yourself multiple outs. Another item you probably haven't used is the quick release connectors like we have for the pony training area.”

“You mean those things with the sliding spring release on one end and the hole on the other?”

“Yeah. They're intended to let you release tension even when there's great stress on the chain. They work really well.”

“I get it. I need to think about that. Is the safety factor going to mitigate the excitement level?”

“Consider the alternatives. If the nails hadn't pulled out of the rafter, you might have spent the weekend there and that would not have been pretty. If you are going to tie yourself up when you are alone, you must weigh the chances of someone releasing you if you get, as you did, hung up.”

“Amen. I agree. But next time, give me more notice that you aren't coming home,” said Sandy, looking Jim straight in the eye. “And, by the way, the same goes for you.”

“The same what?”

“I will make sure I let you know my plans well in advance.”

“Yes. I agree. If you had taken your cell phone to the cellar, you at least would have known I called to tell you I was off on an emergency overnight trip.”

“True. But I couldn't have answered it.”

“That's another good idea there. We should follow up any voice mail with a text. Both of our phones roll out texts as soon as they are received. You could have read the screen, assuming it was before you put on the hood.”

“Ok. Good safety measures. And I am going to take extra care next time,” Sandy said.

“Absolutely. Auto bondage fans, take note,” Jim said with his broadcast announcer voice. “Miss Sandy can tell you from her bitter experience that you should not chain yourself in the cellar without having an escape plan.”

“Ha, Ha,” giggled Sandy. “And don't tell me it hasn't happened to you.”

“No, you are right,” said Jim, putting out his cigar. “But that's another story.

Chapter Thirteen

Inquisition

The woman in the iron cage couldn't possibly be her, Sandrella thought, viewing the entire scene as though it was appearing to her on a screen or mirror instead of the way it actually was with her being a live participant. But there she was, locked helplessly in this iron enclosure that wrapped dozens of thick metal bands around every part of her naked body. Her hands were behind her back, locked together with a single metal cuff/band that held the wrists tightly together. Her elbows were fastened the same way. Both arms were pressed hard against her back by the cage's bands. Her legs and ankles bore similar cuffs, which were quite unnecessary because the pressure from the cage bands was so intense that each of its many bands pressed deep into her flesh, indenting the skin and muscle so that there were so many pain/pressure points on her body that they created one solid mass of discomfort. To finish the degradation and hopelessness of her situation, she wore an expanded pear-shaped gag in her mouth, held in place by yet another cage band across her lower face. Above that, there was a final metal band that clasped her head in a viselike tension, restricting any head movement.

Designed as a long-term interrogation and punishment device, the body cage hung in the fetid dungeon room, suspended from the high, vaulted dome in the ceiling on a rusted chain. They lowered the cage from time to time to give her a drink of stinking, foul water and a few crumbs of bread smeared with some pork grease. Then they hoisted her back up again.

She dozed in the cage.

From below, the Questioner spoke again to her.

“Sandrella, you are a wicked, corrupt slut. Your soul, such as it is, is already damned to an eternity in hell, where you shall suffer the torments of fire being applied to every part of your sinful body forever. Do you now confess to the aberrations in which you have indulged?”

Sandrella tried to shake her head slightly, as she had been doing each day for as long as she could remember, but the increased pressure from the head and gag band prohibited even a twitch. The best she could do was a grunt from behind the expanded thing in her mouth. He throat was stone dry and all that came out was a muffled croak that sounded like a choking frog's midnight last gasp. She was neither a slut nor a witch, but it was clear that she would spend the rest of her life in this cage or someplace worse, unless she confessed. Over many weeks, they had whipped her until she bled and collapsed. She endured two sessions on the strapado and thought that her shoulders and arms would never recover. The boot nearly broke the bones in her feet, but the Questioner wanted her body intact. So, just as the screws were being tightened to the bone-breaking point, he stopped the procedure and sent her to the stone coffin where the slow dripping water torture had also failed to elicit any admission of guilt. She now knew that they, her accusers, were mixing in a different sort of interrogation, one that would have sexual elements beyond anything she had considered. A few days before, they bound her straddling a kind of railing with its serrated metal edge driving deep into her instantly aching crotch. She was tied with a rope around her neck that was pulled backwards and fastened to the end of the rail and another rope from the noose on her neck pulled her forward. Her arms were bound with yards of coarse rope, from shoulders to wrists, the elbows tightly compressed and shoulders forced back, making her tits stand out obscenely between the coils of rope, as her inquisitors wanted them to. The flails were used periodically to keep her nipples hard and rigid. Beneath her, her ankles were tied wide apart to a heavy iron bar and additional weights were added periodically to the bar, pulling her into greater agonized contact with the rail.