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From: "Adrian Hunter & Chelsea Shepard" <adrian_hunter@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Association: Day 13 by Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard (bd, Mf, noncon)
Date: Fri, 11 Apr 2003 10:10:04 -0400
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Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Association (a serial bdsm novel)
By Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard


Note: past episodes can be accessed at
http://www.adrianhunter.com/association_about.htm


DAY 13--SABRINA


A masturbation aid.  That was my label for the night.  I was sound
asleep when I got the strangest wake-up call in my life.  Geoffrey
just penetrated me from behind and started fucking.  Surprise!  Why
did I feel no pain?  Was I wet even in my dreams?  Two seconds later,
anger took over when I realized he had waken me up just to use me as
a sex toy.  However, I soon found myself responding to his thrusts,
pulling on my restrained wrists, panting in unison.  Then, as
pleasure was growing, he came, slipped out, turned around and fell
asleep.  Just like that.

Why do I put up with this?  I asked myself while his breathing
reached the regular pattern of someone who's started to dream.
Because it excites me, I had to admit.  So was this what my life
would be about?  Despite the evidence of the last ten days, I
couldn't believe he had nothing better to do than tie me up and fuck
me.  And occasionally rescue me from villains.  Surely a semblance of
normal life would resume.

Or not?  I remembered Brenda's wad of green notes.  He, we, could
live on that money for a while.  Work wasn't really necessary
anymore.  Still, was all his life about bondage?

Oh well, tomorrow would tell, I concluded, yawning.

Tomorrow...if my perception of time was correct, tomorrow was the
end of my official assignment with Geoffrey.  I was supposed to re-
surface in the outside world.  Call my boss.  Contact my friends and
relatives.  Would he think about this, or just let me vanish?  Out of
the blue, into the black.  Once you're gone, you can't come back.

Unable to answer such a simple question, I hid under the covers and
ordered myself to sleep.  Ten minutes later, I was still awake and
restless.  I turned around and lifted my head to take a look at
Geoffrey.  Bathed in the pale moonlight, his face was so serene, it
was hard to see him as a sadist who would whip me when the fancy took
him.  Such a complex character.

Responding to a sudden emotional urge, I bent over.  Although my
wrists were tied to a bedpost, the leash was long enough to let me
move close to him.

I left a soft, almost imperceptible kiss on his forehead and held my
breath for a few seconds.  When I was certain he wouldn't wake up, I
lay back down, thanking all deities that the high-quality bed didn't
betray my movements.

And finally, I slept.

Only to be awoken in the same fashion a few hours later.  Geoffrey's
morning erection lasted forever, but still not long enough to give me
any satisfaction.  He didn't look sorry about it.  Well, I had asked
for this, right?

He used the bathroom first, giving me more time to pout over my
unquenched thirsts, then untied me so that I could take a shower
while he went down to prepare breakfast.

Remembering I hadn't eaten since the previous morning, I washed
quickly and was happy not to waste any time choosing clothes.  All he
had left on the bed was my chastity belt, which I put on and locked
with a slight pinch of regret.  Maybe later?

When I joined him in the kitchen, he was turning over slices of
bacon in a pan.  In a normal life, I would have kissed him good
morning and helped him.  Instead I stood still and waited for him to
tell me what to do.  While I waited, I noticed the table was only set
for one.  Lowering my eyes onto the floor, I saw a red bowl ready
near his chair.  Yuck.  Not my favorite way to start the day.

Favorite or not, this was the way Geoffrey had chosen, and I had no
option but to obey.  I ate the omelet straight from the bowl, with my
hands cuffed behind my back and chained to my ankles, then lapped my
coffee from the same dish, trying not to burn the tip of my nose.

After breakfast--invigorating, if not particularly enjoyable--he
harnessed me in a now-familiar outfit.  A look outside told me the
weather was perfect for a ride.  But he obviously had other plans,
even if they were somehow horse-related.

As I preceded him on the dirt path to the training ring, I once
again reminded myself that, yes, I had asked for this.  And, yes, I
was excited.  And, yes, I was probably insane.


--GEOFFREY--


After a brief warm-up, I introduced Sabrina to the reins, clipping
them to rings on either side of the bit in her mouth.

Leads in one hand and a cat-o-nine-tails in the other, I stepped
behind her and gave the leather a hard shake.  When she didn't
respond immediately, I cracked the thin ends of the whip smartly
against her ass.

"Hiya!" I yelled as I snapped the reins again.  This time, she began
moving forward somewhere between a walk and a trot.

"Easy," I coached, pulling back on the reins slightly until she
slowed down to the desired speed.  "Walk, trot, canter, gallop.
We've been working on this for a week.  Don't make me remind you
again."

I tugged on the rein attached to the left side of the bit, and was
extremely pleased when Sabrina turned as directed.  Then I pulled
back on the reins hard, almost dragging her off her feet.

"Start, stop, left, right!  Again!"

I knew she loathed her training, but her opinions were no longer
valid on this, or any, topic.  Instead of trying to guess what she
really wanted, I would do with her as I pleased.  If she didn't like
it, she could always leave.

It's the only way, I reminded myself as I used the whip on her
again.  If she really wanted romance and cuddling, she wouldn't keep
coming back for more.  Plenty of nice guys in the world.  I wasn't
one of them.

In fact, I was starting to believe that Sabrina wanted me to treat
her even worse.  So be it.  Even if it occasionally killed me inside.
Affection, meet affliction.

After two hours in the ring, I took her back to the barn, stripped
off her equestrian gear, and hosed her off.  No more swimming pool
for the foreseeable future, unless I decided to weight her down and
let her breathe through a tube for a few hours.

I cuffed her wrists, gagged her, and marched her back to the house
and down to the studio, where I dressed her in a one-piece rubber
dress that was just barely long enough to cover both her chest and
her crotch.  Her good high heels had seemingly disappeared, but I
realized Brenda probably wore them home after Sabrina let her go
yesterday.  No matter, I decided, as I found a pair of open-toed
strappy spikes.  I had had my eye on a pair with straps that could be
padlocked; the perfect replacement.

Shit, I hadn't fixed the car tires yet.  Well, we would take a taxi
into town.  Actually, we would go to the train station and retrieve
her car from the parking lot.  Luckily, I had had the foresight to
make an extra set of keys for Brenda to throw in the trash.  I
chuckled as I stuffed them into my pocket; I had never thought I
might actually need them for a situation like this.

After we picked up the car, I drove her to the restaurant we had
visited the week before.  After taking a table in the back, I handed
her a small leather bag filled with coins.

"There's a pay phone by the bathrooms.  Call whomever.  I'll be back
in an hour; we'll eat then."


--SABRINA--


Stunned, I stared at the heavy bag in my hand like it was going to
give me a clue.  Geoffrey had treated me so harshly that whole
morning, I wondered whether he was aware I was still a person.
Actually I had doubts about that, too.  But now, without warning, he
confronted me with the life I knew when I was nothing but a sane,
thoughtful human being.

After rehearsing my lines a couple of times in my head, I called the
association.  The chairman made it easier than expected, although he
seemed a little surprised to hear from me.  I wondered if he knew
that I knew that Geoffrey knew...oh, it wasn't worth the extra
quarters demanded by the mechanical voice in my ear.

Calling my family and friends was much harder.  I couldn't tell them
where I was, not to mention what I was doing, but my cheerful
announcement that I had finally found "the one" and decided to live
with him was enough to soothe their concerns.  Let them imagine some
Hollywood romance, I thought as I hung up for the seventh time,
feeling a huge weight off my shoulders now that the practical
problems appeared to be solved.

I decided to keep my apartment, just in case; a friend agreed to
retrieve my personal belongings and sublet it on my behalf.  My mail
would be redirected to a post office box until further notice, and a
last call to my bank confirmed that I could manage my account through
the Internet.

All the ties to my "normal" life were loose, at least temporarily;
I'd deal with the more delicate problems of birthdays and holidays
later.  I giggled as I imagined spending a blasphemous Christmas with
Geoffrey.  Bound tight in strands of lights, I would make such a
lovely tree by the fireplace.

With a silly smile on my face, I left the phone and went to the
bathroom.  The leather bag was only half empty, but there were no
more calls to make.  I didn't have an extensive social life, and
wouldn't miss much of it.

When I returned to the main dining room, I almost bumped into
Geoffrey.  I handed him the bag and followed him to our table.

I hoped he would lift my speech restrictions for the duration of the
meal, but he didn't, confirming my impression that he was trying to
make up for his moments of tenderness the night before.  I doubted he
would make love to me like that again soon.  It was time he was back
in control, I jested to myself while eating the food he had ordered.
We weren't about to get emotional here.

I couldn't hold back a faint chuckle, which didn't pass unnoticed
and earned me a frown.  I resumed my serious expression and
concentrated on my food.

When we were finished, we left the restaurant and drove further into
town where Geoffrey parked behind a large building hosting a variety
of shops.  When he came around the car to open my door, I started to
move out, but he stopped me.  Retrieving one pair of cuffs from the
glove compartment, he tied my ankles to a bar under the seat and left
with the key.  My hands were free, but useless, so I decided to take
a nap.

I was awakened abruptly when he returned and closed the trunk with a
loud bang.  Then he drove us back home, parked my car next to his,
unlocked my cuffs, and motioned me to walk by the side of the house,
toward the stables.

I was disappointed when he elected to go for a horseback ride by
himself, while I spent the hour in an empty stall; naked, but
generously adorned.  Hanging from a hook in the ceiling, my limbs
spread out to the four corners.  Waiting for him to return.  Just
another afternoon in paradise.


--GEOFFREY--


I was a little surprised to find Sabrina waiting for me at the
restaurant, having presumed that some do-gooder family member would
talk her out of staying.  Or worse, I was going to walk into an
ambush: perhaps the police, or maybe some armed friends ready to take
me to task for my treatment of their best friend, or girlfriend, or
sister.

Instead, she had simply handed back what was left of the coins and
joined me at the table without a word.  Exactly as trained.

I had planned to discuss a safeword with her, a prearranged signal
that would allow her to leave my world with no questions asked.  But
I scarcely saw the point now.  I would give her plenty of
opportunities like this one--an hour here, a day there--no set
schedule, like everything in our lives to be.

I was just about to tell Sabrina how pleased I was with her behavior
when she seemed to choke back a giggle.

Oh, she thinks this is funny, eh?

My first instinct was to command her to bring herself to orgasm
right then and there at the table.  But I'd save that punishment for
another time.  Instead, I hurried through the rest of our meal so we
could finish my errands, including one more stop at a special store;
kind of a patchouli palace, dressed to twirl in tie-dye scarves,
preposterous bongs and assorted Grateful-they-were-finally-Dead
detritus, but it had by far the best selection of candles in town.

Once we got home, I decided I needed to work off some of my anger,
so I took her to the barn, stripped off her dress, and hung her in an
empty stall--soon to be her stall--while I exercised the horses a bit.

When I was finished, I dragged her back to the house and down into
the studio to the wall where I had installed horizontal wooden beams
spaced evenly from floor to ceiling.  I always thought it looked a
bit like the side of an oversized packing crate.  But the slats were
perfect for securing arms, legs and whatnot in a variety of awkward
positions.

I positioned Sabrina on her back with her ass pressed against the
wall and her legs spread in a wide V.  Starting with her ankles, I
wrapped dozens of coils of rope around her calves and thighs,
threading each strand around a slat and knotting it tight to prevent
even the merest hint of movement.

When I was done with her legs, I locked her hands back into the
leather mittens, then tied them at her sides to her thighs.  I used
the rest of the rope around her elbows and breasts, then finished off
her bindings with the pump gag strapped tight around her head,
topping it off with a pair of blinders on the sides of her eyes.

I pushed a pillow underneath her neck and head, then attached
butterfly clamps to her nipples, the kind that increased their
pressure when something pulled on their handles; something like the
thin piece of cord I knotted around them, then ran up to a slat in
the wall, then back down to the leather straps of the trainer that
met between her eyes.

Certain she couldn't move her head without causing considerable
trauma on her nipples, I went to work jamming the long, thick candle
between the slats so that it stuck out horizontally from the wall
just above her lower waist and groin.

When I was satisfied with its stability, I produced a lighter from
my pocket and gave it a flick.  As her eyes grew wide, I moved the
flame under the candle's wick.  After it sputtered to life, I watched
until the first drops of wax fell a few centimeters above her navel
before turning my attention to my afternoon chores, such as moving
the bed out of her room and replacing it with the cage from the
studio.


--SABRINA--


After so many bondage adventures, you'd think I'd grow tired or
bored at yet another scene.  But, no.  You don't get bored when hot
wax splashes on your belly.  Nor when your breasts are about to be
torn off when you simply move your head in a reflex to counter the
pain.  You get afraid, you get upset, you get aroused...you never get
bored.

I couldn't take my eyes off the candle.  Literally, I couldn't.
Thanks to the blinders, it occupied my whole field of vision.  Unless
I wanted to take chances with the clamps and move my head, but the
view was definitely not worth it.  So I kept my eyes on the white
phallic object that threatened to burn me down to my crotch.

When a drop hit my navel, the burning sensation was instantly
followed by a most pleasurable echo a little further south.  I closed
my eyes and waited for the next one to fall, accepting its dual gift,
and soon longing for it.

I was floating in another world when the wax reached my shaved
pubis, sending fireworks with each tiny splash.  The pain felt so
good, it wasn't even pain anymore.  And it wasn't nearly enough to
match the flow of sexual hormones speeding through my veins.  I
decided to help the candle in its slow work and turned my head.
Left.  Fire in my breasts.  Right.  Tears in my eyes.  Up.  Bright
light flashing inside.

The candle must have been near the end of its life as I felt the
centers of pain and pleasure moving incredibly closer.

But they didn't meet.  More drops fell on the same spot; so close to
the target, yet never reaching it.  And then they stopped.  The
candle had died on the slat, leaving nothing but an small
extinguished nub of white wax.

And me?  I felt like yelling.  What about my own little death?  Mad
with desire, I pulled on the cord, but almost fainted when I felt the
unbearable bites on my nipples.

Then I heard Geoffrey's footsteps hurrying down the stairs, and I
tried to calm down.  No need to show him how well he had scored with
this game.  My glistening body would provide ample testimonial to his
victory.


--GEOFFREY--


I was a little disappointed that the candle had fizzled out before
the wax reached Sabrina's sex, so I went back upstairs and stole one
from the dining-room table.  After slowly unclamping her nipples, I
tried several practice drips on her breasts, then went to work down
below.  When the nub got too hot to hold, I was impressed with both
the quality and the quantity of molten white that both coated and
filled her.

I had been careful to take my time and not allow her to come.
Leaving her there for another hour while I finished setting up her
room would give her plenty of time to cool down, at least physically.

The mechanic arrived to fix the tires while I was checking the final
results of Sabrina's auction.  Luckily, my seven-digit bid had
survived a last-minute flurry from someone in Russia.  I wasn't
thrilled about sharing ten percent of the total with Iwata, but it
was a small price to pay to maintain my credibility.

"To live outside the law, you must be honest," as Dylan wrote, but
Jason and the Scorchers sang it better.

I poured three fingers of Veliky Novgorod vodka over chipped ice to
celebrate my victory over the remnants of communism, then returned
downstairs.

I dearly wanted to tell Sabrina what I planned to do with her
tonight, and the next, and the day after that, and in the weeks and
months to follow.  I wasn't sure if knowing what was coming was worse
than the ongoing surprise.  I also wanted to get to know her better,
but not at the expense of the current positive state of our delicate
partnership.  Train first, enjoy later.

Besides, I had waited a long time for this.  No sense in conjuring
the old dysfunctional habits so I could muck up another one.

I untied her legs from the slats, then swiveled her around on the
floor until the top of her head was pressed against the wall.  After
tying the cord still knotted between her eyes to a board overhead,
forcing her to stare at the ceiling, I secured a long piece of rope
around one ankle, then pulled it up and back toward the wall,
repeating the process on its partner, and then her knees.

It didn't take long to remove all the wax once I switched from the
crop to a thinner lash.  But she didn't know that, so I kept going
until I was sure she was ready to melt herself.

After another hour's rest, I freed her from the wall, removing
everything but the mittens.  After giving her some water, I put the
blinders back onto her equestrian trainer and re-gagged her.  She
would have to wait for the bathroom, although I reminded myself that
she wasn't quite ready to have her elimination needs reduced to twice-
daily trips.

I left her lying on the ground as I picked up one of her feet and
slipped it into the ballerina boot with a curved heel a good two
inches longer than the tip of the toe.  I buckled it tightly, then
threaded the tiny padlock between the hasp that connected the straps.

When the other foot was finished, I slipped black elastic pads
around her ankles and pushed them up her legs until they were around
her knees, then encircled her neck in a stiff discipline collar that
kept her nose raised high in the air like a haughty housefrau walking
past a gaggle of goths.  Around that went the Elizabethan collar that
had more recently adorned Brenda's neck.  Designed so animals
couldn't gnaw at wounds on their bodies, it also prohibited the
wearer from seeing anything below the neck.

"Hands and knees," I barked.  After she rolled over and repositioned
herself, I reached under her chin and clipped a leash onto her collar.

I tugged my end and started toward the stairs.  When she hesitated,
I picked up the crop and gave her ass a powerful swat, then spun on
my heel and proceeded to the landing with her crawling tentatively
behind me.

Once upstairs, we passed through the kitchen to the back door, which
I opened and held wide.

"Outside," I said, pointing toward the lawn.


--SABRINA--


I was getting nervous.  Badly nervous.  Not the kind of happy
trepidation preceding an entertaining scene, but rather the rumbling
of mounting anger.

Since Geoffrey and I had returned from town, I had spent all my time
in bondage, struggling against the pain, then trying not to get too
excited about it, and waiting for a relief that never came.  The
candles had been fun, thankyousomuch, but after fleshing me alive
with the whip, I would have hoped a little reward was in order.
Instead, all I got was more pain, more excitement, more waiting, more
frustration.  He had left me ponder over my fate for longer than I
could bear; when he finally came to release me, I dearly expected him
to end the game for the day.

So why was I outside, on all fours, forced to stare at the sun
slowly diving down into the blackening shapes of the trees?  This had
better be worth it, I muttered to myself.  I certainly didn't want to
fail--fail him, fail myself--but we were dangerously close to my
limits here.

Obviously, my limits were of little concern to Geoffrey.  Or perhaps
he placed them much further than I did.

I shivered from the cold.  And from what was to happen.

He led me further on the lawn and stopped in the middle.

"There's a slight breeze blowing," he said, rather redundantly.
Then, he bent down to remove my gag as he continued.  "Don't want you
to get a bad cold.  So you'd better be moving.  There!"

I saw a red flying object cross my limited field of vision from
right to left.

"Go get it!," he commanded.

I froze.  Which of course cost me a sound thwack on the ass.

Mumbling all sorts of curses in my mind, I crawled towards the spot
where I figured the object had landed.

"Faster, damn it," he yelled.  "Run!"

Oh sure, like I'm a dog?  Well of course, I finally realized as I
tried to run on my hands and knees.  If he could train me like a
pony, he could just as well train me like a dog.  Lord, was there
absolutely no decency left in my upside-down world?

I found the red plastic ball, a typical dog toy, and grab it firmly
between my teeth to bring it back to him.  As soon as he held it, he
threw it again, further.

I sighed and hesitated one second too many--thwack--before running
to it.  I hated this.  I would rather stand the pain of burning wax
than such a degrading show.

By the time I went searching for the ball for the tenth time, I was
crying my rage out.  Why was I doing this?  Why did I let it happen?
I could just stand up, stop the game, and leave.  But I wouldn't.  He
wanted me to do this, and that was all the reason I needed to keep
going.  Obey and submit, not only my body, which was fairly easy, but
also my mind.

Soon, all I could focus on was running, finding the red target,
bringing it back, and running again.  My legs were tired, my knees
were sore despite their protection, and my breath was turning into a
low whistle.  But I had to get that ball.

When I thought I was going to collapse from exhaustion, Geoffrey
placed his hand on my back, just below the collar, and gently pushed
me down.

"Easy.  Take a rest.  You've done very well."

Those were the words I needed to hear, and I welcomed them with more
tears.  My anger had melted, replaced by a contradictory blend of
sorrow and joy, despair and pleasure.  Confused, but comforted by his
presence, I knelt down, placed my mittens on my thighs, and tried to
appease my lungs with long breaths of fresh air.

Night had fallen.  The world was suspiciously quiet.


--GEOFFREY--


Pleased with Sabrina's performance, I stroked her hair for a moment,
then picked up the ball and stuck it back into my pocket.

"I'll call when dinner is ready.  In the meantime, I'd strongly
suggest you take care of your needs before coming back inside.  An
indoors accident involving your bladder or bowels would be most
unfortunate."

I left her kneeling in the middle of the lawn and walked back to the
house.

While preparing our meal, I resisted the urge to look outside the
window to see if she was taking this rare opportunity to pleasure
herself.  I would easily find out when she came inside with a simple
sniff of her mittens.

The iron cross with the cuffs for her wrists and thighs was still
sitting in the living room in front of the couch where I had left it
the night before.  Perfect.  I went downstairs to find a few more
implements, including the leather hood and her earplugs.  No matter
what, she would spend the bulk of the evening on her hands and knees,
her ankles splayed wide between a spreader bar.  I fingered the fat
plug I had chosen for her ass, then selected another thick vibrator
for her sex with a little bird figure sticking out of its base that
would press directly against her clit.

Clamps, weights, some extra rope to tie her hair to the ceiling so
her head would be properly positioned to service me orally if I
chose.  I walked back upstairs to the kitchen, spooned our pasta into
a plate for me and a bowl for her, and poured myself a glass of wine.

"Sabrina!  Dinner!" I yelled out the back door, squinting into the
darkness to see if her hand was between her legs.  Not as far as I
could tell, but she couldn't escape her own scent.

Regardless, her fate was sealed.  The only question that remained
was the number of minutes.  Not to mention lashes.

When she crawled up the steps to the door, I opened the door and
spoke to her directly.

"Did you just come without permission?"


--SABRINA--


Offended by his lack of trust, I told Geoffrey I didn't.  The only
organ I had cared to relieve was my bladder.  He asked to smell my
mittens and seemed disappointed by their innocuous leather fragrance.
Poor man.  There goes his dream of punishment, I grinned to myself.
In all honesty, the thought had indeed occurred to me, but I would
have been foolish to pleasure myself with him looking outside the
window.

Leading me to the kitchen, he removed the large collar around my
neck and pointed at the bowl on the floor before sitting at the table
to eat his own pasta.  When we were both finished, he let me sip wine
from his glass, all the while suppressing a smile at the sight of my
tomato-smeared cheeks.  He cleaned them with a wet towel, cleared the
dirty stuff into the sink, and led me to the living room.

Fifteen minutes later, I was all set for the evening.  Still on my
hands and knees, legs spread out and fixed to the ground, and
completely deprived from two of my basic senses: sight and hearing.
But other senses largely compensated for the loss, such as pain in my
breasts, discomfort in my anus, and buzzing in my sex.  When I
thought he was done, he came in front of me to tie my hair up to a
rope hanging from the ceiling, and gave a finishing touch to my
predicament with a ring gag that kept my mouth open wide.

Working along with the dildo, my ass was slowly circling the air
even though it increased the traction of the weights on my nipples.
But I instantly stopped when I felt a cold and damp touch on my back.
I guessed he had laid down his glass on what he assumed was his new
coffee table, and I certainly didn't need to be told that one spilled
drop would be very ill-fated.

As I was trying to get used to being perfectly still, another
vibration did its best to distract me, this time right on my clit.  I
clenched my muscles, bit on the gag, and struggled to accommodate the
pleasurable sensation.

Although set on a low setting, the double vibrator took little time
to build on a day's worth of arousal, and sent me straight to lust
land.  Completely isolated from any sight or sound, I drifted off,
opening myself to the most perverse hallucinations.  This was
dangerous, I knew, for I would soon forget my duties and let me body
react freely, but I was beyond caring.

I hardly felt the cold liquid when it splashed on my back.  However
I did feel the first whip lashes when they began to decorate my ass,
thighs and back.  They didn't feel like punishment at all.  He meant
them for pleasure, and I took them as such, each bite sending a
burning wave rolling down to meet the vibrations of the dildo and
merge with them.

When I was on the verge of coming, the whipping ceased.  Two seconds
later, I almost choked when Geoffrey forced his engorged member way
down into my mouth.  Yet I welcomed the chance of transferring some
of my excessive desire onto him, and started to tame my mad impulses
to pleasure him as long as possible.

It didn't seem long enough.  He came, then withdrew, leaving me
panting for a few more rounds.


--GEOFFREY--


After Sabrina's stellar performance, I removed my member from the
ring in her mouth, replaced it with a rubber dildo, then let the
vibrators rumble for another hour or so, immensely enjoying the way
she twisted and thrashed as her orgasms finally arrived, growing
exponentially both in duration and intensity.  Feast or famine, I
thought to myself as I watched her spine buckle under the strain of
the convulsions.  But the hour was getting late, and I had much to
accomplish in the real world tomorrow.

I removed everything but the mittens and the collar, untied her from
the iron cross, then led her on hands and knees to her room, which I
had redecorated slightly since her last visit.  All the furniture was
gone, replaced by the cage from the studio, which hung from a large
metal pulley in the middle of the ceiling.  I lowered it to the
floor, opened the door, and gestured for her to enter.  Not wanting
to cause too much more stress, I simply padlocked her wrists behind
her back, then attached a short chain from the top bars of the cage
to the collar.

"One peep, and I'll be back with the pump gag," I muttered as I
secured the door and began hoisting the structure a few feet off the
ground.  But my threats fell on deaf ears, as Sabrina appeared to be
asleep before I finished locking down the links holding the cage to
the ceiling.

"Good night," I said softly as I closed the door, resisting the urge
to add "sleep tight." That was a given, I smiled to myself.


(To be continued in Association - Day 14)


***
Copyright (C) 2002, 2003 by Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard. All
rights reserved. Please do not repost nor repurpose without
permission.

***
"Something Just Clicked," a new collection of our bdsm short stories
and novellas, is now available from Renaissance Ebooks:

http://www.renebooks.com

***
AdrianHunter.com
Serious bondage fiction by Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard:

http://www.adrianhunter.com


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