Welcome to Part Nine of The Abduction Company, a multi-part BDSM serial written exclusively for Oxy-Shop by “Taped2.” Amber gets into more than one kind of trouble, Melody is displayed uncomfortably, and Martin escapes into the less-controlled lands around the Abduction Company. Inspiration provided by the classic bondage artist, Robert Bishop.
Amber walked briskly ahead of her captive. She held the chain to Melody’s steel collar firmly in both hands. Melody – her hands held behind her in tan-leather hospital-style restraints – had to focus entirely on Amber’s pace and changes in direction as they navigated the hallways, staircases, and lobbies. Most embarrassing was the long wait for the elevator and the looks of others around them. Many stared silently at Melody. Doubtless some would have been envious of her; others would have been wanting to take command of her, to strip off her clothes and ravish her on the spot. Some made joking comments to Amber that were ignored.
Once they entered the twelfth-floor hallway, Amber began to pull with a kind of desperation. At any moment it seemed Amber might give Melody’s leash a punishing jerk. Melody had never feared Amber, but her impatience was frightening. She was relieved to finally stand before the door to her room.
Inside, Amber undid her wrist cuffs and ordered Melody to strip. Melody wanted to say something to divert her anger, but the glare on Amber’s face made her comply. “Strip them off or I’ll cut them off.” Amber withdrew a long pair of shears from the cabinet beside her. Melody quickly undid her belt and jeans and tossed them on the bed. Her panties followed. Amber dropped the chain leash. Melody removed her T-shirt over her head and threaded the T-shirt down the chain. She unfastened her bra, picked up the T-shirt from the floor and tossed them on the bed too. She rubbed her smooth, shaven pussy to relieve a phantom itch.
The steel frame from yesterday still surrounded Melody’s bed. Amber returned the shears to the top of the cabinet. They were going to revisit the restraints Melody wore last night. Amber put the heavy steel fetters on Melody’s ankles. Melody stared across the room. The second bed had been removed and there was a new vertical frame by the picture window.
“Yes. You’re going in that one in a minute.” Amber surveyed an assortment of metal parts, chains, clips, and locks strewn across the cabinet. “You can either sit or stand in it,” Amber said.
“What if I don’t want to do either?”
Amber’s slapped her face. Tears sprang to Melody’s eyes. “You’ll do as you’re told from now on. Turn around! Quickly!”
Melody turned. Amber considered the wrist shackle and Allen key on the cabinet. She looked back and was suddenly arrested by the beautiful curve of Melody’s spine. Amber’s gritty, focused resentment had got them here; she had been able to take Melody through the AbductCo. complex by barely looking at her. Now, Amber felt how difficult it would be to be secure her to the window frame and leave. Her vanishing resolve was like water disappearing down a drain. She had dreamt of Melody last night and now she was obsessing over in the daylight too. She was in love with her: this bratty uncontrollable bitch, who was also blameless and beautiful and not responsible for Amber’s dilemma.
Amber had almost come down at five this morning, to check on Melody. She had fantasized about lying beside her, teasing her nipples and kissing her deeply. Last night, sleepless in her own bed, she would have thrown over everything for the girl.
Amber would have set her free, if Melody had asked, if Amber had made the trek up to the twelfth floor. She would have packed in her job and followed her to any country on earth, if Melody had asked. Amber knew her own weaknesses and one of them, the greatest she had ever known, stood right in front of her. Amber’s confusion took form in her mind, in poetry:
Your hair arrayed in filaments of loving light! How delicate
the sighing slant of your arms, palm-to-palm, my love like steel forged,
Real and mysterious, what I cannot control. My dream of caressing you
from your bottom up, soft, warm. Give me the key to you.
And you shall have my key, and see me drop to my knees,
pray devotedly, please forgive me
for offering my heart.
Just a small caress. That’s all I want. But if I do that, I will have set her free. I’ll be her slave, in her service. I must apologize for the slap.
No. Not necessary. Oh, to stroke this one, to dig my fingers into her bottom, to gently play my hands across her ribs, to rake my nails over her breasts. Oh, I’d slap her again. Yes. To arouse her, to arouse me. Oh, a harder slap! Melody, please leave a mark, to match the mark on my heart. Leave a reddening so beautiful, sublime. Hit me, hard.
Amber ran two fingers across her bum. It was all she dared. Melody ignored Amber’s finger. A bare, weathered piece of wood was attached to three pieces of steel pipe. “I’ll sit,” she said. Amber put a heavy wrist shackle on each of Melody’s wrists.
She had suddenly recovered herself. She could restrain Melody and get out quickly, which was her original plan. “Stand on the horizontal bar. This one. In front of you.”
Amber spread Melody’s ankles and fastened her cuffs to the two closest upright pipes. Next, Amber mounted a short step-ladder and leaned over to fasten Melody’s wrists, so they were spread above her head. As she stood close, she dearly wanted Melody to snuggle her face in her bosom, but Melody had turned her head way.
Amber rotated Melody’s steel collar around her neck so her leash chain hung down her back. She drew the chain up behind Melody’s head to a fitting on the steel pipe overhead. She pulled until it was almost snug, then locked the chain to the pipe. This prevented Melody from lowering herself. Amber tried to position the small wooden seat under her, but its vertical pipe was too short to be of use. Melody could look down, to either side, and up to the ceiling. Her arms, ankles, and neck had been allowed only the slightest movement.
“I’ll be back. Thanks to you, I have a mandatory meeting with Head Mistress. If I’m not back in half an hour, someone else from Housekeeping will check on you and change your position.” The door slammed behind Amber as she left.
Night was coming in. The lights in her room blazed behind her. Melody knew she would be visible to anyone looking from outside. But she was twelve floors up. The building was surrounded by expansive fields, gardens and beyond, by forests and hills. There could be hunters or hikers in the distance. Someone might have binoculars. Melody moved her feet every time her bare soles began to ache from standing on the pipe.
With Melody locked down, Amber rushed to her own room to change into her maid’s uniform. She expected punishment – and not necessarily the good or easily endured kind. The more vulnerable she appeared to Head Mistress, the better chance she would have of a merciful fate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Head Mistress Stephanie was furious. Melody and Martin had found each other. The meeting was underway when Amber arrived. Number Two was reading a note from his phone. Mistress Blaise was at the table, as were several other mistresses and department heads, along with two staff from the Stage operations department, two men from the Information Technology department, and someone from Building Security.
Giselle Abernathy from Human Resources sat on one side of Mistress Stephanie at the head of the table. The only available seat was on the other side of Stephanie. Amber sat and was introduced. The only names she could remember were the two IT guys: Bill and Ben, which struck her as crazy-funny. They didn’t look like twins. Bill had a beard and Ben did not. Bill was white and Ben was black. Bill was very tall and lean, Ben tended towards short and plump.
Head Mistress Stephanie asked Mistress Blaise to describe what happened after her Rope Skills seminar. It was clear Blaise hadn’t witnessed anything of value; Stephanie asked the stage-hands for their recollections, and then what Number Two might have seen, although he had sat at the back.
“How did Marty get away from you? He was in your custody!” Stephanie interrupted Number Two.
Number Two (Francis) had stepped out to take a call from one of their largest creditors, a Wall Street bank. He’d assumed Martin wouldn’t try anything foolish with the limited amount of freedom he’d given him. Stephanie groaned.
“I have a message here from one of the guys in my department” said Ben. “Client Ten is in jail in Breviston.” Several puzzled looks zeroed in on him.
“Client Ten is Mistress Destiny,” Stephanie said. “For anyone who doesn’t know the history of AbductCo.”
Ben continued, “I’m the Locations Systems Project Lead. We’ve implemented the software in your bracelets and the communications protocol. We assist corporate security. At the older end of our technology portfolio, we monitor short-wave radio. We also have access to the national and provincial police forces’ databases and have several monitoring bots installed on desktop computers owned by the Breviston detachment.”
Amber was surprised that AbductCo. kept the local police force under surveillance. What followed was a discussion of how to help Mistress Destiny, and the pros and cons of bailing her out of jail. Number Two, the IT managers, and Abernathy from HR all agreed it should be attempted.
Stephanie asked, “Francis, would you be able to get Destiny out? It’s Friday. She may not get a bail hearing until Monday. I don’t want her to wilt in jail over the weekend.” He nodded. He knew the Breviston detachment and its six officers.
“Take our local legal counsel with you. You know the drill. Remind them of our many anonymous philanthropic projects in Breviston. All the children’s sports. Sponsorship of local athletes’ careers, the Arts and Crafts Gallery, City Hall renovation donations, the new Senior Public school . . . “
“Got it Stephanie. Don’t worry.” Number Two stood up.
“Don’t forget to change. You look like Nick Fury from the comic books in your leathers.”
“Yes Mistress. Thank-you for the reminder.” Number Two left.
Stephanie turned to Amber. “Why did you volunteer Melody for Blaise’s rope beginner class? What a stupid, stupid thing to do. How could you?”
“There were over 200 people at Blaise’s lecture. The room was full to overflowing! How was I to know Melody’s boyfriend was going to be there? I’ve never seen him before. You never sent me his picture. I just searched our database for his picture, and there still isn’t one. In fact, there is no record of Martin Porter at all. Not even his name.”
“None of that explains why you decided Melody had to be the rope model. You couldn’t find anyone else?”
Bill, the head of Information Technology, spoke up. “Ben and I are trying to catch up to events here and there are a number of issues that concern us.” He turned to Amber. “Are you saying that the information about Martin Porter is gone?”
“Yes, it is.”
Stephanie began working through screens on her laptop. Ben did the same on his. “There’s no documentary record of Martin’s payment to us,” she said.
“I’ve found the payment,” said Ben. “It was only a few days ago, and there is no offsetting refund, but all information about the transaction is missing.”
Bill resumed: “The bigger issue is his bracelet. It is generating a lot of false location data.” Mistress Blaise said, “Yeah, it shows he’s been all over the compound in less than an hour. Even if he was wearing a rocket-pack he couldn’t have been to all the places on this list.”
“Where is he now?” asked Amber.
“He’s in the shopping complex, in the women’s washroom on the eighth floor, Barn D near the East entrance, at the door to the fleet garage. And he’s on the rooftop, in the observatory. And his reported time is identical at all these locations.”
Stephanie turned to Amber. “This meeting is beginning to deal with matters that do not really concern you. You are relieved of duty with respect to Melody. I’ve asked Housekeeping to report immediately with a different maid to attend to Melody in her room. Thankfully Melody’s bracelet is working fine. Tomorrow you will report to PDD. Melody will also report to PDD but someone else will bring her.”
Amber got up and left the room. PDD was Product Design and Development. Work there was both strenuous and boring. This was where AbductCo did experimentation in location tracking technology. It was also where they developed and tested bondage and punishment technology, such as electrical toys, isolation hoods and suits, and analyzed endurance statistics. Most of the staff who had modeled for PDD hated it. Testing restraints, new furniture designs, enduring pain, testing the limits of the human body. Amber wondered if Melody or herself would prove more popular with the mad scientists and crazy artists who worked there.
As she approached the end of the hall, she caught sight of her reflection in a mirror. She noted how she had dressed as “The Blonde Dolly in her French Maid costume.” Such was the blurb and image of her that had appeared on the cover of Abduction Company’s summer magazine last year. Guests and other employees, around the world all seemed to know her in that role. It had made her a minor, temporary celebrity with subscribers worldwide.
After Amber left, Mistress Stephanie muttered, “Such impertinence! That she would dress like that when there are so many more important things . . . “
The HR representative Giselle, spoke up. “She didn’t know, Stephanie. Go easy on her.”
Bill resumed. “What we need to figure out, Ben and I, and perhaps everyone in this room can give us ideas . . . what is causing this bracelet worn by Martin Porter to malfunction? Does it represent sabotage, an inside job? Is there a spy in the IT department? If we have an insider, or an intruder, how are they masking their moves? Is the problem viral or targeted?” He paused. “At some point we are going to have to find Martin Porter and get that bracelet back.”
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Martin swung his hands, enjoying the sensation of freedom as he walked. His toes hurt in his modest, pink, three-inch heels. He pushed through the glass doors at the back of the building and stepped out into the autumn air. He was not dressed for autumn weather.
He slipped off his shoes and carried them, without looking back, towards the barn where he’d endured his first equestrian class. The next class was in three days. He hoped he wouldn’t be here for it. Perhaps he’d be out of this madhouse by then.
He assessed the factors against escape:
he was dressed in a frilly pink and white maid’s uniform. He had no other change of clothes
he was locked in a pink chastity cage and had no key for the lock
he was starting to freeze as the wind picked up
he was hungry, the lasagna he’d put in Mistress Blaise’s oven would be cooked by now
he had no money
he had no wallet or other identification, except for the number 176 recently tattooed on his lower back
he did not know his way around the compound. He assumed the existence of a chain-link or similar fence at the periphery
his cell phone had been taken from him. It was probably still being jammed so he couldn’t have made an outgoing phone call anyway
he was alone and if he met anyone, they would likely turn him in to Head Mistress or the security department
he was frightened of being seen outside of the building
he didn’t know where Abduction Company was, relative to any major city. He hoped he was still in Ontario
He assessed the reasons why he might still get away
his wrists and ankles were not cuffed
he had all his wits about him, and he could climb any fence
the mysterious bracelet on his right wrist, no longer flashed any familiar colours. Instead of emitting a faint warmth, it seemed to have gone cold
dusk was advancing quickly. He would be harder to find in the dark
Martin headed west, following the sun’s descent through the sky. He had left the paved walks some minutes ago. A path descended into a shallow ravine. Many trees had shed their leaves. The ground was moist. His feet made a sloshing sound as he pushed piles of leaves aside with every step.
Ahead, was a small wooden shed. He decided to risk approaching it. Perhaps it was deserted, and he could have respite from the wind and the falling temperature. He heard a man’s voice, rather deep and stentorian. He couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from, but it was too clear to be from within the shed. Was there one person here or more? Was he over-hearing a phone conversation? He hid behind the shed.
It was a phone conversation. It ended. A tall, older man – Martin got a brief glance at him – walked away from the front door into the woods. Now he was returning to the shed. An engine started up. It ran for a few minutes. It was a four-wheeled all-terrain vehicle. The man was putting it inside the building, which was now revealed to be a small garage. Under cover of the noise, Martin retreated back along the path. He would trace a circle around the garage, and its clearing, and continue westward. As he circled through the trees, he saw a tractor and another vehicle. There was a small plot, a garden of vegetables in a clearing in the trees. He wondered what was being grown.
He stepped to his left to give the vegetable garden a wide birth. Suddenly, a noose tightened around his ankle and yanked upwards with great force. He went down hard, his shoulder only saved from injury by the soft ground covered with leaves. Martin cried out in surprise, helpless. He’d been caught like a deer in a snare.
Partially suspended by one leg, Martin’s shoulder and head still touched ground. His skirt and pretty white slip now draped over his face. His imprisoned cock in its pink chastity would be the first thing any approaching person would see. He twisted furiously at the end of the rope, then he stopped, gasping. His wig had come off.
He cursed soundlessly. The rope snare was powered by a long, strong sapling bent over against its natural upright shape. If the tree had been any stronger, if it was allowed to straighten, he’d be fully suspended several feet off the forest floor.
“Howdy stranger!” The voice came from behind him. “Your finery is all skew-iff, little lady! Zat what you’d prefer me to call you? Little Lady?”
Martin felt hands on his stockinged leg. Then, they let go. The rope tightened. He was raised. His head and shoulders were free. The man pushed him and he swung like a pendulum, fully inverted, a sack of meat, dangling above the ground.
“You remind me of The Fool. You know, in the Tarot deck?” The man seemed to have dropped his hick accent, as if it was a disguise he didn’t need after all.
“Yeah. Ha-ha. Very funny.” Martin managed. Breathing was difficult. He had never been suspended upside down. He was afraid he’d fall.
He heard a camera shutter clicking. Not a cell phone, the man was using an old film camera. “Wait till I show you to the missus. Normally we catch rabbits, or a cat, or something similar, in snares like this. Of course, it’s just a half-assed thing I’m using to see how it works.”
The man let Martin down until his raised foot hovered about twelve inches above ground. He grabbed Martin’s hands, bound them in some kind of zip-tie. Then he looped Martin’s wrists with a long piece of cotton rope. He took forever encircling the wrists and cinching the tie. He let Martin’s foot down to the ground and helped him stand. He picked up Martin’s pink shoes and put them in a worn bag over his shoulder. Then he leaned behind Martin and snipped off the plastic tie, certain that his rope would be sufficient to hold his new captive.
“Who are you?” The demand rolled off Martin’s tongue as pure anger. “Did you have to tie my hands?”
“Can you get free?”
Martin tried the ropes, twisting his shoulders and wrists. “Not likely. Ah, thank-you for letting me out of your trap.”
“Y’r welcome, young man. Antonio’s my name. I’m the gardener. Now we’ll do yer elbows.” He ran eight turns of doubled up rope around Martin’s arms and above his elbows. Then he took the left-over rope and cinched the gap between the elbows ten times. Martin’s upper body and torso were expertly trussed. This guy was as good as Mistress Blaise. Antonio seemed to have found the perfect point between absolute security in the tie and a binding that wouldn’t have to be taken off in the first five minutes.
Martin sat in the passenger seat of the all-terrain vehicle. Antonio snapped a pair of ankle cuffs on him, that were joined by a short chain between his ankles. There were four additional belts for Martin’s seat. One for keeping his ankles tucked under the seat, one for keeping his knees strapped down on the seat, and one for his waist, that Antonio pulled in very tightly. Finally, a belt crossed Martin’s shoulders from the top of the seat back. Antonio ran this belt under Martin’s left arm, across his shoulder and around the back of his neck, and then down through the armpit of his other arm and attached it to the back of his seat. Antonio reached between Martin’s legs and pulled up his cock and balls to rest on top of his thighs. If they had remained squeezed between his legs, the pain would soon be excruciating. “Better?” he asked. Martin nodded.
Antonio sat in the driver’s seat. He pulled a large red ball gag out of the vehicle’s glove compartment and loosely fastened the strap around Martin’s head. Rather than fight the gag, Martin opened his mouth and permitted Antonio to work it between his teeth. Antonio tightened the leather strap behind Martin’s head. It was a snug fit.
“Your maid’s outfit is in tatters,” Antonio said, as if he saw cross-dressers in these woods pretty much every day. He unlaced Martin’s bodice, revealing the false breasts in a linen bra. “Portia will get you fixed up, don’t worry.” Antonio pulled the vehicle out of the garage. “She promised tonight she’d make some of her filling beef stew. Now I’m a bringing a surprise to the menu. Warm stew, spread all over you. Whatdya think?”
Martin said nothing. Antonio dropped the façade of a prankster. “I don’t want you to be angry. I’m sure you haven’t had supper. You’re more than welcome to join us.” As they drove into the forest, light was lost under the thickening tree cover. Finally, they came to a large cottage.
“My place,” Antonio said, gesturing. “It’s half Portia’s too.” Two workmen were out front, fastening backpacks onto their scooters. They barely looked at Martin but both said goodbye to Antonio.
“Has she fed you two?” he asked.
“Oh yeah,” said one. “A lovely big salad and an even bigger plate of beef stew. You’ll smell it when you get inside.”
“Will we be planting trees tomorrow around the north side of the Empress building?” asked the other.
“Sure. A slightly larger team than today. A few extra hands,” Antonio replied. “So long as the last twelve trees get delivered. They were supposed to come today.”
The first workman pointed at Martin, still bound in the passenger seat. He could not staunch the dribble of drool from under the ball gag. “Found a little toy for the missus?” the first said.
Antonio nodded. “If she likes him. We’ll see.” The two men drove off together. Several lights on the cottage cast a welcoming glow. Antonio undid the multiple belts holding Martin to his seat. Then he removed Martin’s steel ankle cuffs and helped him to stand on the grass. Martin frantically gestured downwards with his head. Antonio removed his gag. “Yes son, what can I do for you?”
“The cock cage. It’s killing me. I must be bleeding down there.”
Antonio inspected the cage, testing the connections between the cock head, the spacer, and the connectors to the base ring. “Ah, yes. It’s cracked. Damn plastic, never lasts.” Martin felt his cock and balls come free. Antonio gently removed small bits of plastic with his fingertips and put them on the floor of the cart. Martin shook himself side to side.
“No blood that I can see. Some dandy pressure marks, however. That must hurt.” Antonio lifted Martin’s penis and examined the sides of a shaft that was gradually thickening. “You like that?”
Martin groaned and then blushed. “Thank-you. That’s better. The pain is less.”
“Yes, it’s amazing how quickly a cock can recover from any minor violence done to it. Must be all in the blood flow.”
They approached the cottage and crossed the threshold. There were no steps anywhere, only ramps. The main floor of the cottage seemed to have no walls or hallways leading away. Open concept, thought Martin. The front hall, coat closet, living room, and dining areas all seemed to be one. Along the back wall was an extensive kitchen area. A woman in a racer’s wheelchair pushed herself towards them. She halted before Martin and extended her right hand to her guest.
Martin noted her muscular and long fingers. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Martin Porter.” There was no reason to lie. If they were inclined to turn him over to AbductCo’s Security department, it wouldn’t matter what he called himself. The woman wore sleek cycling gloves with the finger and thumb ends missing. Martin of course, with his wrists and elbows so securely bound by rope, could not shake the hand she offered.
“I’m Portia.” she said smiling broadly. She pointed at Martin’s bound arms. “Tonio, why did you tie him like that? Is he your guest or your prisoner?”
“Not taking any chances. He’s wearing one of the company’s bracelets. Before I release him, I’d like to get it off him, quarantine it, or shut it down.” Tonio put his finger to his lips. Martin was led towards the back of the central room and placed on a stool next to a long marble table in the style of a bar. Portia swung around to the other side of the granite counter and opened the door of the oven. She produced a steaming pot of beef stew and set it on the counter. From a drawer under the counter, a loaf of bread in a plastic bag came sailing up into the air and landed in front of Martin. Portia dished out some stew into a bowl and kept producing things Martin would need: butter, a knife, fork and spoon, a few plates, and a green table mat. She arranged all these before him. Then she came around behind Martin and told him to squat before her. “I’m going to untie you, since my husband is derelict in his manners.”
She began to tug at the knots that bound Martin above the elbows. “Tonio, what are you doing?”
“Getting tools!” Within a half-minute he was back with an electronic monitor, a laptop computer, and some fine hand tools that reminded Martin of dentist’s probes, drills, and mirrors. Once Portia had Martin’s hands free, he rubbed his face, as if exhausted, as if trying to restore some normalcy to his appearance. His make-up was coming off in his hands. Portia grinned at him. “We’ll get you into the shower, after you eat.”
“Put your bracelet on the counter.” Antonio said. Martin laid his left wrist on the cool granite. Martin took a piece of buttered bread from Portia with his right hand and ate hungrily.
As Antonio worked on the bracelet, the issue soon became whether it should be cut off. “I can see it’s not transmitting; I can’t open it with my fine tools. I don’t know why it’s not working. It would be very easy to get it off if we had another paired bracelet, or a phone running the AbductCo Locator app that is paired to the bracelet. But we don’t have either of those.”
Martin continued to eat his stew and bread with his right hand. Portia cut pieces of baguette for him and buttered them. “I notice you and Portia don’t wear bracelets,” said Martin.
“No, and neither do the gardeners who work for me. Would you like to come to work for us tomorrow?” Antonio explained that no one in the forest was interested in dominating Martin for money or any other reason. “We do honest work. I don’t consider paying for sexual fun terribly moral. And I don’t think people should make money off other’s frustrations. I may be very old-fashioned in that way.” The criticism of his employer seemed quite clear.
Antonio walked off and a minute later came back with a pair of bolt cutters. “Easier to work, if our friend Martin is not attached.” He gestured at the screen of his laptop. “I’m not learning anything about device, its software, or its transaction history anyway. Martin! Pay attention. Let me know if you think I’m about to injure you.”
Martin felt the cold edge of the cutter against his skin. The jaws had the bracelet – and only the bracelet – in their grip. Suddenly, it snapped. The bracelet produced a series of shrieking beeps that filled the low-ceilinged main room of the cottage. Antonio took the ring and twisted it free of Martin’s wrist. The bracelet was surprisingly flexible. After ten seconds, the beeps stopped. “Like a death cry.” Portia observed.
Antonio held the bracelet up to the light. He studied it disdainfully. “We are practitioners of Love Bondage, romance, love-play in public places. We are not shy, but we don’t play at AbductCo. We are not inventors or users of expensive restraints. We don’t need fancy gadgets to express our love. Our philosophy is centered in nature and the arts. Some of us are former employees at the mansion who have been demoted (and find we enjoy the gardening role).” Antonio paused. “I cut this bracelet because I couldn’t control it by other means. I had to ensure it was not monitoring us.”
“You seem pretty adept with technology. Did you do the renovations in this cottage?”
“Yes, I worked in computer and engineering tech for many years: in other companies and later at AbductCo. They hired me to set up their computer division back in the day and I took over the department. But after too many years, I couldn’t do it anymore. I was disgusted with the way my industry was developing. The mechanization of human life inherent in this bracelet, a glorified monitor that overrides any real notion of permission or consent. I hate it. This bracelet didn’t exist at the time I was packing it in. But I could see stuff like this coming. So, I took up gardening and asked AbductCo. to give me a new job, or I’d walk, taking most of their systems secrets to another company. That would be about fifteen years ago.”
“And you became head of gardening or agriculture?” Martin asked.
“Clearly, you’re still a technologist.”
“Yes. Can’t stop being fascinated by gadgets, but now I do it in pursuit of improving local situations. Adapting Portia’s wheelchairs for example.”
Portia interjected. “I’m sure this is all fascinating, but if Martin is going to stay overnight, and maybe longer, I’m wondering if he’d like to clean up? I’m guessing the cross-dressing looked really nice this morning when you put it all on, but now . . . Let me show you the bathroom where you can get out of all the ladies wear and into something more masculine. We have a guest room. I’ll find some clothes you can wear tomorrow, if you are going to work with us.”
Martin nodded. “Thank-you.” Antonio picked up his tools from the counter and took them back into another room.
“A very well-shaped ass. Anyone ever tell you?” Portia smiled at her guest.
“A few mistresses at the main building had a go at my backside on the first night I was here. I think it was an initiation. I had a bill to pay.”
“And that’s how they made you pay it?” Portia’s eyes danced over Martin’s physique. He realized he must look terrible, every aspect of his feminine identity damaged, his wig missing, his stockings torn, his aching feet bare upon the wooden floor. He was just happy to have found refuge. Portia however, seemed very intrigued by him.
“No. The dildos in my ass were just to test me, or just for fun. I still had to pay cash, a down-payment on whatever length of time I stay here. I was abducted.”
“That sounds pretty advanced.”
“I wasn’t expecting it. I had arranged an abduction several months ago with another dominant lady down in Toronto, but I thought it was cancelled and so I never paid back then . . . look, this is a long story. I’d like to get cleaned up.“
“Finish eating first. Here is some pie and ice cream for you too.” Portia wheeled off to an adjacent room. Martin ate everything before him. After ten minutes, she returned with a box on her lap. “Have you ever got it on with a girl with a disability?”
Martin shook his head. Portia rolled up beside him, touching his seat at the counter and yanked down the remnants of a stocking from his leg. “Would you like to? With me, I mean?”
“Won’t Antonio be jealous?”
“No. He’ll be fine. I’m sure he thought, when he decided to bring you home, that I might ask you to pleasure me. Though if I were to guess, when he found you . . . “
“When he snared me . . . “
“When he snared you, he probably felt as if he had no choice but to offer you succor.”
“Aid, help, assistance, refuge for the night. Antonio is the most helpful man I have ever met. There is a twenty-eight year age difference between us, but I love him with all my heart. He has taught me how to be generous.” She paused. “He’s the head of Gardening Section. Technically, he’s my boss. But he just turned seventy, and he’s my husband. I’m forty-two. And you, Martin?”
“Thirty,” he replied. “Have you always used a wheelchair?”
“I had an accident when I was in my twenties. I was thrown from a snowmobile. The driver had had too much to drink. I suppose I too, had drunk too much. Otherwise I wouldn’t have got on the machine. I came to Abduction Company. Antonio, one of the original employees, was able to give me a job in the Technology Section. Generally, though, gardeners are pretty indifferent to technology. None of them wear those bracelets. And Tonio, as their boss, won’t permit it. Other gardeners tend to live in town, in Breviston or on nearby farms.”
“How do you get around in the forest?”
“I can travel all the paved paths you see around the estate in my power chair. Or in this manual chair. I have four different power chairs. Tonio has modified them all in some way or other for the local terrain. I have one that travels through really uneven ground, on modified tank treads!”
Martin smiled. The engineer in him admired the way Antonio and Portia had improved her mobility. She was very attractive. Energetic. She looked up into his face. “You are definitely my idea of a lovely present. Would you like to be my present?”
Martin was too tired to argue. He wanted to see a bed, to sleep.
“Tonio’s not very active sexually any more. He’s definitely into BDSM and back in the day he was passionate. But physically he droops, and he’s tried all the pills and the injections to help with an erection and they all worked for a while, but as he ages, they don’t work any more.”
“You can’t use toys?”
“I can and I do. Tonio doesn’t like mixing gadgetry and sex very much.”
Martin loved Portia’s kindness. And she was brashly confident. If an older woman was to be his fate, he could think of many worse fates. Not escaping from Abduction Company was one of them. Not securing Melody’s release was another.
Portia led him into a large bathroom with a wheelchair-adapted shower. She pointed to the box on her lap. “These are some leather clothes I chose for you. I hope they fit. I think you’d look really hot in black leather.”
She put the box on the floor, away from the shower. Martin stood at the sink and surveyed himself in the mirror: a complete and utter mess. The make up made him look like a zombie. He stripped off the remains of his maid’s costume and dropped it all on the floor. “Shall I put these in the garbage or is nothing worth saving?” he asked Portia.
He was naked. He waited for her reaction and reflexively covered his groin with his hand.
“You’re totally hairless. I guess you had to shave everything for that maid disguise. Takes a long time to shave every hair.” Portia pulled removed her blouse and undid her bra. “I assume you’ll be able to figure out the faucets. Give me that junk you just took off. I’ll dispose of it.”
She wheeled out of the bathroom. Martin watched her beautiful breasts swing forward and back, with every pump of her arms on the wheels. Her hair was wound into a large sculptural bun behind her head.
He turned on the shower, waited for the warm water, and checked out the clothes in the box Portia had left: black leather chaps, a steel cock chastity (a bird-cage style), a leather chest harness, a heavy leather collar with rings and other metal ornamentation, black cowboy boots, and leather bands for his biceps. There were some miscellaneous cuffs and a black leather mask and some other restraints like a pair of thumb cuffs. It was, he imagined, going to be a very dom/leather-master look.
After his shower, he found a new toothbrush in the cabinet, towels and a hairbrush and comb for his use. He stuck his head out the bathroom door. He softly called her. She rolled into view.
Martin glanced down. She had been wearing prosthetic legs under her jeans. Now the jeans and the prostheses were gone. Both her legs had been amputated at the knee. He tried to imagine how that must have felt, to lose so much of herself. How they would make love? Would he dominate her, or would they just have some vanilla caresses and cuddles? And if that was the case, why didn’t she get that kind of affection from Antonio? How could she get out of her wheelchair and into bed?
She wore custom-made black stockings over her amputations. Combined with her garter belt and black satin panties, the short stockings fascinated him. He felt a strong urge to kneel before her and nuzzle his face in her pussy. She wore a thick black leather waist belt, a black latex bra, a glistening jewel-studded necklace and long latex gloves that came well up over her elbows. “I’m not quite finished preparing myself. You need something, love?”
Martin said, “I ah . . . you’re gorgeous.”
“But my stumps are a surprise to you. I usually wear some fakes around the house. Sometimes I can walk on them, with canes.”
“I don’t mind,” Martin declared.
“This is how I am,” Portia said. “I’ll guide you.”
“I look forward to it, Mistress. You are lovely.”
“Pick me up.” As he bent over, she raised her arms and put them around his neck. Martin gathered up her legs with his left arm and put his right arm around her back. She was lighter than he expected. Her lips were inches from his. “I trust you,” she whispered.
“I trust you too. Which way?”
Portia pointed to a door on the right side of the hall. “I’m not too heavy?”
“Light as a feather.”
“You make me hot.”
“Well, I can’t help that can I? Perhaps if you turned down the furnace, or the fireplace. Perhaps if I was wearing some clothes.” Martin turned sideways to carry her across the threshold of her room. He placed her on the bed, grinning madly.
“It was a struggle to reclaim my sexuality after my accident,” Portia said. “I had to work very hard to rediscover my body. So many things I could no longer do.” She pointed to the bed-frame overhead, its handholds, and attachment points she hoped Martin could see as useful for her kinky play: the rings and short chains.
“Did you clean your backside while you were in the shower?” she asked.
“I mean did you use the enema hose in the shower? If not, take this enema bulb, fill your ass with about four units of water, and hold it all in your ass for about five minutes, or as long as you can bear it. If you’ve never given yourself a douche or enema, that’s probably all you can manage.”
“I’ve douched before.” He recalled his first night in the jail cell with Number Two. “Hold it five minutes? So, we’re going to have anal sex? In my bum?”
“I’d like to. You o.k. with that?”
“It takes some minutes to loosen the little remnants of stool from your insides. As long as you don’t rush to expel the water, you’ll clean up really well and there won’t be even a hint of nastiness on my dildo when I withdraw from you.”
Martin laughed. “I’ve never heard a woman talk like that. Did you used to be a nurse, or something?”
“Nope. And when you’re all squeaky clean back there, bring those leather things in the box I gave you. You’re going to put on a show for me.”
Here is a woman in charge – of her own home, her own space, and her house guest. He took the enema bulb into the bathroom and did as he was told. On the toilet, after holding the water as long as he could, he finally allowed it to come slooshing out of him. It was nice feeling. Then, he saw small bits of stool in the water and immediately flushed the toilet. He hoped he was clean, inside and out. Just to be sure he rinsed inside once more with another bulb of water. This time, it came out clean. He returned to her room, pushing her wheelchair with the box on the seat. He set the brakes and began to lay out the leather clothes on the bed.
Portia was extraordinarily nimble and strong. Her arms were well muscled. With the room’s adaptations, she was entirely at ease. “Watch,” she said to Martin. She pointed to her make-up table beside the bed. She vaulted herself off the mattress, holding the bed frame with one hand and the back of the chair with the other. Then she pivoted to the chair and looked at herself in the make-up mirror. She began to work on her eyes and eyebrows with a tiny brush. Martin loved how her deep red lipstick made her mouth a focal point. Her eyes were becoming smokier and more prominent with every gesture of her various brushes.
The bedframe included several storage compartments. In her mirror, Portia watched him explore her room. “Have a look inside.” One held a collection of short whips. Inside another were ball-gags, leather blindfolds, and hoods. Inside a third were dildos and strap-on harnesses.
“You need multiple strapon harnesses?”
“Yes. Do you have only one pair of shoes? How are you making out with the leather chaps? Do they fit? The boots? Too large? A little bit to small? C’mon. Don’t just stand there.”
Martin held up the chaps. He’d never worn anything like them in his life. He put on the waist band and laced the two ends together behind his back.
Portia swiveled on her seat. Martin fumbled with the chaps. The leggings flapped loosely around him, like two halves of a leather skirt. “I wouldn’t mind if you stayed au naturel, but I’ve been hankering for a young leatherman for so many years, and suddenly here you are.”
“I think it takes practice to master the look of a leather top. I feel like a fool.”
“OK. The zipper of each pant leg goes up the inside of each leg. Sit down and thread the zipper from the bottom.” She watched him, hoping these pieces of Tonio’s old gear would fit Martin.
“We’ve had those a long time. Hardly used. Tonio used to cut quite the figure in those chaps, but he quickly dropped into the sub role with me. They’ve lingered quietly in my closet, waiting for you for years.”
Martin got the chaps and the cowboy boots on. He was happy to see they fit, the leather of the leggings sleek against his skin. Portia dismounted from her make-up chair and walked on her hands across the floor to where Martin stood at the foot of the bed. Her stumps moved awkwardly. One, then the other dragged behind her. She seemed not to want to put any weight on them.
“Are you comfortable? I can carry you.” Martin asked.
“No.” Portia moved her face towards his semi-erect cock. She gave it a little kiss. “You don’t mind?”
Martin laughed. “What man would mind you kissing his cock, or even taking it all the way in?”
“Moving around the room on my hands is just efficient sometimes. I’m not very submissive, as you can probably tell. Just because I’m on the floor, doesn’t mean I’m your midget you can dominate. Being a top doesn’t come from a height discrepancy.”
Martin remembered Melody. “I’m not a natural dominant either. I had a girl-friend. We had some troubles with bondage and those kind of games. Since I’ve been here, I’m really getting into the submissive role. Not that I’ve really had any choice.”
“Had a girlfriend?” Portia sat on the floor, straightening her stockings, one of which was half off after being dragged on the floor.
“Uh. She’s here now. At The Abduction Company.”
“Why aren’t you together? Did you break up?”
“It’s a long story. I don’t think I did myself any favours by telling Head Mistress at the main building about her. I certainly didn’t do Melody any favours. She was abducted.”
“Melody is your girlfriend who was abducted?”
He nodded. “I was abducted too.”
“I see. Consensually, I hope.”
“Yeah. Sort of was and it sort of wasn’t consensual.”
“Do you want to go ahead with me?”
“Sure. I’d love to.”
“OK. Pick me up and put me on the bed. I could climb up but it’s fun to make you do it.”
Once Portia was on the bed, supported by several large pillows, she grinned menacingly. “I’m hungry,” she declared, “for you.” Martin loved the leather and latex she wore. He couldn’t help staring at her: the way she curled her lip, her muscled arms in the glistening latex gloves. Her breasts that filled her latex bra so perfectly, her soft rounded stumps in black stockings. He wanted to touch her everywhere. She saw his trembling hands reach out. She cut him off.
“Later, Romeo, I’m glad to see the chaps and boots fit. Leave it to a legless woman to teach you about chaps.” They both laughed. She gestured to the box. “Now, put on the rest.
Martin put on a two and a half inch wide thick black collar with a hasp in the back. Portia gave him a lock and ordered him to fasten the collar as snugly as he could bear it. From the box, she handed him leather bands for his biceps. She gave him a studded chest harness which took them several minutes to get correctly oriented, so his nipples protruded through two front rings.
“Come here.” He moved closer. She handed him a cock cage. “Have you ever worn a urethral tube?” He had not. Once she had the ring and cage locked on, she put his key on a jewelry chain around her neck. She showed him the spout with the round ball at the tip. “As you can see, urine or semen will flow-through it. I understand the feeling can be exhilarating.”
“Please put it in me, Mistress.”
Portia lubed the stainless steel insert and threaded it through the tip of the cock cage and into his pee hole. It took about a minute for Martin to work it all the way in. “The thicker your erection, the harder it can be to penetrate the urethra.” Portia waited patiently.
“Unbelievable!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know if I can move with that thing in me.”
“It’s not jabbing at you is it? Not painful, I mean? Give yourself a minute to get used to the feeling.”
“Augh, I’m incredibly sensitive. I don’t even have to move to feel it.”
“If you’ve never done a sounding before, or never put a penis plug in your hole, then yeah, you’ll be sensitive.” Portia slid down onto her racing chair. “But the more you do it, the easier it gets. Let’s go to the toilet one more time. You can pee. The tube will actually help. You won’t splatter, which sometimes happens with cock cages.” Portia swung herself down onto her chair and snapped the seat belt across her waist
As he sat on the toilet, Martin was afraid he’d hurt himself as the pressure built inside of his urethra. “I’m afraid to let it go.”
“Nothing to fear. You can’t hurt yourself unless you try to jerk off with a steel tube inside. If you did that, you’d probably cause some bleeding inside.”
Finally, amid laughter and Portia’s clapping, Martin let his stream go. After wiping up and washing, they returned to the bedroom. Portia lifted herself from the chair onto the bed using the bed rail. She grabbed a ring above her head on the bed, slid off her black satin panties and slowly parted her legs. “Where’s your mouth? Your tongue? Mistress needs you, leather-boy. Can you make me come? Show me what you got.”
Martin looked down at his cock. He was thick in his cage, the steel inside him just never stopped sparking sensations in his cock. His frustration was intense; his shaft bent down by the curve of the cage and the curve of the spout inside. Like a beacon, the steel knob of the spout marked the tip of his frustration.
“Fingers and tongue. Get with it, slut. You’ll get me off and you won’t stop until I permit you to! My clit won’t fuck itself!”
Martin brought his tongue down on her naked pussy and licked as if he was pleasuring himself. She came quickly and after he had brought Portia through a second orgasm, she stopped him. “Wait.” The delay seemed to last forever. She rolled over and pulled a pair of rubber briefs from the side table. The briefs had a six-inch dildo on the inside that she thrust into herself. “Ahh. Nice stretch. A different kind of pleasure.” She worked the dildo in and out several times. “Eyes down! Watch the pussy that you can’t have.” She clenched and released the rubber dildo inside her.
“Now I’m going to tie you for some recreational torture.” She laid out a pair of fingerless leather mittens before him. The ends of each mitten featured a black ball to impede the wearer’s fingers. “Slide your hands into them.” He fumbled with getting the second one on; she intervened, pulling each one on tightly. She fastened the wrist cuff of each mitten. Then she added a lock to each. Next, she gagged him with a large yellow ballgag. As she leaned into him to fasten the strap behind his head, he tried to embrace her.
She pulled back. “No! Don’t touch unless I invite you to!”
She put a wrist steel shackle around each forearm, behind each mitten. With two pulley systems on chains, she drew his forearms up to the steel bar overhead until he was on his knees. Then she dropped off the bed, into her chair, picked up some leather cuffs from the box and scooted around behind him. She put his ankles into leather cuffs, crossed them, and locked them. For almost a full moment, she let Martin dangle, saying nothing. Then she began to whip him with a four foot leather stinger across his back. Once he had reddened nicely, she reached between his legs and very gently fondled his bound cock. Martin was whimpering now, the cage and the internal probe moved slightly under her hand. It was both pleasure and agony.
She played with him this way for a couple of minutes. Then, she resumed whipping him. She struck his ass harder and harder with a heavy leather tawse. He didn’t think he could take it. He wanted her to stop, but as soon as she would pause, he was afraid she wasn’t going to strike him again. He watched her in the mirror in front of him. She looked ferocious as she drew back her arm for each blow. After each strike, she paused to watch his leg shake as he recovered. If she hit him too lightly, he wanted to be struck again, repeatedly and quickly. Finally, she picked up a solid cane and struck him five times with it, leaving five long red welts across his buttocks.
Then, she stopped. The cane was tossed on the bed beside him. He heard her snap open her seatbelt and take off the brakes on the wheelchair. Martin open his tear-filled eyes. He was coming. From his dick the thick creamy cum he’d fantasized about depositing deep inside her, was now leaking out. He heard Portia gasping. He could see in the mirror, she was rubbing her clit through her rubber panties. Eventually she stopped, came around beside him, and vaulted herself back on the bed. “Hey genius, you just came. See?” She pointed to the mess on the rubber sheet beneath him. She adjusted her herself before him, her stumps spread. Martin’s eyes devoured the pale skin of her legs above her stocking tops. The straps of her garter belt framed her pussy, her right hand rubbed frantically.
Martin mumbled, “Please Mistress let my hands down, let me bury my face in your gorgeous pussy, covered in that glistening rubber . . .” He tugged at the pole over his head, his hands frustratingly secure in the leather mittens and steel shackles. She paid no attention. She opened her eyes. He was obsessed with her lips. She panted, gasping for release. She was at the edge. She was coming. She squeezed her legs together. Her body was so close he could have touched her, if he could have freed his hands.
There was a gentle knock on the door. Portia’s gasping gradually slowed. After half a minute the gentle knock was repeated. Tonio’s voice softly called her name.
“Come in,” she said.
He pushed in and closed the door behind himself. Antonio was nude except for a thick leather collar, a tube style chastity cage, leather wrist cuffs, a heavy waist belt that cinched his lanky frame, black pads on his knees, and matching leather ankle cuffs. “Thank-you Mistress, for admitting me.”
Portia spoke to Martin. “He’s unable to get an erection any more, isn’t that pathetic?”
Tonio cried out, “Mercy Mistress, remember my long service to you.”
“You don’t deserve any mercy!” Portia shouted. Then she added, “I think I’d find it very entertaining to see my young hunk here, Sir Martin of Essex, take your worthless ass. Prostrate yourself before me. Face on the floor!”
Tonio complied. Portia loosened the pullies that held up Martin’s hands. She took off the steel shackles but left the fingerless mittens on him. Martin touched them together. He still could not use his hands.
Portia addressed Tonio on the floor. “Where’s your key?”
“On a chain around my neck.” Portia took it from him. She took off the necklace with Martin’s cock cage key as well.
She held it up in front of Martin’s eyes. “Unlock yourself. Take your time removing the tube from your pee-hole. Place the parts of your cage on the bed. Tonio is just here to watch his wife being sexual with a stranger. Here’s the key to the lock at your ankles. Undo it and place the lock and key on the bed also.”
Martin did as he was told. He felt enormous relief to release his cock. Despite his milky leakage a few minutes ago, he felt himself swelling. He was practically erect now. He looked hungrily at Mistress Portia.
She lay back on several pillows at the head of the bed. One of her hands still played with her pussy, pushing the dildo in her panties in and out and flicking the rubber across her clit. “I want to see Tonio suck off Martin. He’s got such a nice hard cock for you, honey. And it would be so humiliating for that old slut on the floor to suck my young hunk.”
Tonio staggered upright, keeping his knees widely spread, and put his hands behind his back. His short cock cage swung hypnotically back and forth.
“Go ahead Sir Martin. He will suck you. He’s likely pretty good. I make him practice on a dildo every other day or so. Just to keep him sharp and to not lose his ability to take a cock deeply in his throat.”
She paused. “I know I’m bad. I can’t help it. I just like to humiliate men.”
Martin got off the bed, stood, and approached Antonio who continued to kneel. His cock swung close to his face. Tentatively, the older man leaned forward, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. Martin put his hands, still confined in their leather balls behind Tonio’s head. Then he put his cock on Tonio’s tongue and slid in a few inches. Tonio pressed his tongue up under the intruder and began to suck him gently, then faster and faster with long slippery strokes. “Good boy,” Martin said, just because he though it ought to be said.
He withdrew for a moment. His cock was covered with thick drool from the back of Tonio’s throat. Martin slapped his cock back and forth across his host’s cheeks, leaving streaks of drool all over. “Open,” he added, barely above a whisper.
“Thank-you Sir Martin, our mysterious guest. It is an honor to serve you.” He took Martin’s cock again and continued to work it up and down. Martin was surprised Tonio only gagged once when Martin pushed deeply into him, but he never asked Martin to stop.
Suddenly, Martin felt himself coming and pushed back Tonio’s forehead. He laid his cock on his upturned face and his spunk splattered his cheek and beard, Tonio reached out with his hands and felt Martin’s strong legs under the leather chaps. He pulled the younger man to him and held him in a hug.
“Next time, you will fuck my worthless husband, Sir Martin, if you don’t mind. Next time, you can either warm up by beating him with this cane, or you can use a dildo and stretch his worthless ass, or drive into him with your gloved hand.” Portia paused. “Or I can arouse you tomorrow and slip a condom on you – so nice to see a circumcised man – and you can bugger him the old-fashioned way. Fuck him in the ass. Yes?”
Martin thought Portia sounded too scornful of Antonio. “I can’t,” he said.
Tonio gazed at Martin’s ass cheeks, framed in the leather chaps. He lifted his own caged cock. It had thickened enough to fill his steel cage. He said, “I cannot do that either.”
Portia pulled off her rubber panties and the dildo came out with an audible slurp. “Oh, that’s good. Want to hear it again?” Both men laughed. Portia removed Martin’s hands from the fingerless mittens.
Martin settled his face into Portia’s pussy and in a minute she was climaxing again, almost screaming as he inserted the fingers of his right hand into her. As he withdrew, judging her to be done, after three orgasms, Martin glanced at Tonio, who still knelt on the floor. Portia’s eyes were closed, she gasped steadily, an exhausted beast.
Martin took the key to Tonio’s cage from around Portia’s neck. She didn’t notice or stop him. Martin tossed it to the older man. Tonio grinned and stood up. “Thank-you, sir. I will pleasure myself in my room. Thinking of what a wonderful lover you are to my wife.” Before Martin could reply, or apologize, or say anything about they had just done, Tonio turned and left.
“Satisfied?” asked Portia in a sleepy voice.
Martin turned back to her and laid down. “You’re crazy. You know that.”
“Yes, I’m crazy. Tonio and I both know that and it’s all cool with him. But I asked about you. You’ve been thinking about my breasts for hours. You’ve been staring.”
“Coming on your husband’s face is not what I expected. But it was o.k. All I needed.”
“Bring yourself up here. Higher.” Portia took his cock in her mouth and sucked him. He was too tired to harden, but he felt a weak climax and gave her the very last drops he had. He was panting and dizzy and afraid he’d pass out. He watched Portia spit out some of his cum and wipe it over her breasts. Then, he was asleep.