As expected - exercise
by LJ


Warning! This story might contain activities that might not be suitable in selfbondage. Please play safe.

As expected - exercise
Winter was turning into Spring. The recession was having an effect on L’s business, giving him more spare time, but with little motivation to make use of it. In fact, he was getting depressed, drinking more than he should and getting very little exercise.
One morning, at breakfast, Jane looked at him, frowned slightly and said “You need some exercise, you’re getting a bit flabby” . “Oh, thanks very much”. Jane went off to the University, L went to his office as usual.
And another week passed. Jane left early that morning, for a “conference”, which L now knew was often shorthand for a session as Mistress Ayesha. Her unconventional sideline was a useful boost to their finances, as she cheerfully said “ perverts will always find the cash for their fun” .“They should be so lucky” thought L. It had been months since his last session under the lash of Mistress Alice.
As he walked to the front door, he shivered. On the table by the door was an envelope, bearing a large, handwritten letter “L”
The instructions were brief. “Put on just your tracksuit and trainers. Bring Linda’s clothes and the chastity belt with you. Leave the key here on the table. Be at the Room at 11am precisely”
He checked his watch and worked out he had about 10 minutes spare to get the clothes together and then make the 30 minute journey to Mistress Alice’s house by 11 o’clock.
Five minutes later, he was packing the clothes and chastity belt into the car, when he noticed the front tyre – flat! In a panic, he rushed into the garage – somewhere in the chaos of boxes, tools and general junk was a foot-pump. As the minutes ticked by L emptied, turned over, moved and finally found the pump. Somewhat out of breath, he started pumping the tyre, but inflation was very slow as the pump was leaking. After ten minutes the tyre was up to a safe pressure, but for safety he waited a couple of minutes to check the pressure stayed constant.
With little hope of arriving on time, L drove just a little too fast, but even so, arrived at 11.10. It was with some trepidation he pushed open the front door. The hallway was deserted and silent, but by the door into the Room was another envelope bearing the familiar “L”
L opened the envelope, to find his next instructions neatly written in Jane’s unmistakeable italic calligraphy.
“Remove your tracksuit top and trainers. Put on the cuffs you will find inside the Room. Clip the cuffs to the bar you will see above you in the centre of the Room”
Leaving his tracksuit top and trainers by the door, L entered the Room, the door slowly but firmly closing behind him, the lack of door-handle guaranteeing he remained in the Room. L saw the cuffs. They were not the ones used before, but were almost like a glove, with a strong strap around the wrist, with heavy leather extending past his fingers to a D ring rivetted into the end of the narrowing strap. Already clipped to the D ring was a double-ended snap link. L looked up to see two short chains dangling from a metal bar. He used the spare ends of the double clips to link the “gloves" to the chains. “Odd” he thought, “ I can undo those any time I like”
But then a clattering of a winch started and the bar rose upwards until L was almost hanging from the two chains. He realised the purpose of the “gloves”. As the tension increased, the leather folded round his hand, enclosing it and preventing him reaching the D rings, let alone the snap-links.
Click, Clack.
Heels approached from behind. Mistress Ayesha or Mistress Alice?
Rather unceremoniously, his tracksuit bottoms were pulled down and removed, leaving him naked and exposed.
A hand gripped his left ankle and pushed it outwards, then L felt a strap passed around the ankle and buckled tightly. Then, the right ankle was similarly moved, strapped and buckled, forcing L onto tip-toes as the spreader-bar reduced his effective height.
The heels moved away, then returned and L saw the two hands, coming from behind him, clipping the busks of a corset down his chest. He felt warm breath on his bare back, then the increasing tension as the corset was laced tight.
From above, the clattering of the winch presaged a reduction in the tension, so that L’s feet were firmly on the ground, but the snap-links still well out of reach. Then, another motor, and the metal bar was drawn across the room towards a frame in front of L. To maintain balance, L had to waddle towards the frame, the spreader bar preventing anything but an ungainly step. Reaching the frame, the forward motion continued, forcing L against a horizontal bar at just below waist height.
Click, Clack.
The heels followed him. L felt a pressure on his ankles, then heard a click as another link snapped between the centre of the spreader bar and an eyelet set into the floor, preventing any further movement of his legs. In front of L, the frame had more eyelets at waist level. The clattering of the winch released the tension on L’s wrists, but the relief was short-lived, as two pairs of hands grasped his wrists and released the snap-links and quickly clipped them onto two of the eyelets in front of him, forcing him to bend almost horizontal, still unable to reach the links holding him prisoner.
So both Mistress Ayesha and Mistress Alice were there.
Mistress Ayesha spoke. “ I said you needed to lose some weight. Mistress Alice has kindly devised some exercise for you. We thought you might need an incentive. You will find it exciting”
From past experience, L thought that “exciting” was probably translated as “painful”, but was in no position to argue.
“I think he needs a gentle warm-up, Mistress Alice. Perhaps you would kindly help him whilst I prepare the machine?”
Click, Clack. He tried to look, but the sudden slash of a crop across his bottom stopped him. Mistress Alice spread the blows, until his rear was reddened evenly.
"“Nicely warmed and almost ready for you, Mistress Ayesha”
The significance of “almost” became apparent as a well-lubricated plug was pushed into L, rapidly followed by the now-familiar fitting of the chastity belt. His arms were released and re-attached to the metal bar, which was raised until he was standing upright again. One by one his ankles were released, and a stocking rolled up his leg and attached to the corset suspenders. Mistress Alice moved away, then returned with a pair of black high-heeled boots which she proceeded to lace onto L’s legs, the heels providing a relief in the tension from above but maddeningly not enough to escape.
Mistress Alice again went away, only to return with what looked like three wide straps, two of which she fastened around L’s legs, just above the knees, the other around his corsetted waist. Ominously, Mistress Alice connected wires from the knee straps, up and behind L, who could feel she was doing something to the waist strap. Then there was a pressure on the plug.
“All done” said Mistress Alice, who stepped away from L.
Mistress Ayesha approached L, holding several leather items. “Open wide” to which L responded by doing so, having learnt that compliance was much less painful than refusal. A bit-gag was pushed into his mouth, holding his tongue down, and a harness buckled around his head, holding it in place. Then a wide collar, buckled around his neck. From above, a chain dangled nearby, just long enough to reach the D ring on the front of the collar.
One by one, the “gloves” were released and removed, to be replaced by cuffs, locked in place, then locked to the chain in front of L’s face.
“Mistress Alice, will you please explain the first exercise”
As Mistress Ayesha spoke, there was the hum of a motor starting, and L was tugged gently forward by the chain linking his collar and cuffs. Looking up, he saw that the chain inexorably pulling him was linked to some kind of track, forming a wide circle around the room.
Mistress Alice walked next to him. “You have realised you are to walk a circle, but we want you to be rather more active than just a mere walk. We had thought that a whip might encourage your movement, but that would be tiring. For us! The two straps around your knees contain level sensors. These are connected to some electronics, and finally to your butt-plug. You must raise each knee almost horizontal. A timer in the controller is cancelled by each knee-raise. Fail to cancel it and you will receive a shock to your rear. And you must raise each leg alternately, as the controller will refuse two raises by the same leg.”
The motor speeded up, to a slow walking speed.
Mistress Alice left the room. “Enjoy your exercise, remember the knees” said Mistress Ayesha, as she followed Mistress Alice from the Room.
"This is easy" thought L. Some ten seconds later, a stabbing pain filled L. “Remember the knees”
And high-stepping in a circle, L began the new exercise programme.
After about five minutes, L realised that this was no easy exercise, even though the walking pace was quite slow. The exaggerated raising of the knees made the steps far more difficult than simply walking, as it restricted the stride length so he was forced to make many more short strides to keep up with the chain pulling him on his circle. The tight corset restricted his breathing, so that he was beginning to gasp, whilst the high heeled boots put even more tension on muscles unused to the tilt of the foot. He was beginning to feel raw down the sides of his legs, where the suspenders going to the rear of each stocking top were sliding across his leg as the tension on the stocking was increased every time his leg raised.
Inevitably he slowed down, only to receive a blast of electricity. As the minutes dragged by, he worked out that the timer timed out and gave a shock every ten seconds if the correct knee was not raised. He was able to get a momentary respite by taking several fast steps, taking the slack out of the chain, so he could grab a few seconds of rest.
After some twenty minutes, he was getting very tired, and sweating in a very “unladylike” way. Then the motor stopped, the door opened and Mistress Alice came into the Room. Saying nothing, she moved behind L, and removed the straps round his legs, disconnecting the wires from the controller on his back. A few seconds later, a savage jolt hit him. “Ah, forgot to switch off the controller” said Mistress Alice, casually.
Click, clack. More heels. Mistress Ayesha helped Mistress Alice unlock L’s cuffs from the chain and linked them to the D-ring on his collar. Then, the chain was disconnected from the overhead unit and used to drag L towards the wall. Looking up, he saw a bar, perhaps two inches in diameter, with a couple of D rings about two feet apart. Below the bar was a shallow wooden box, perhaps three feet square and 3 inches high. “Step onto the box” said Mistress Ayesha. Once he had done so, his cuffs were, one by one, released from the collar and attached to the D-rings with small padlocks.
The height of the bar, above the box, meant he could easily reach it with his arms only slightly bent.
“Well”, said Mistress Alice, “You have worked your legs quite hard, so we are giving them a rest. Now we will use your arms and upper body.” She then bent down, and plugged a cable into the box, and made a connection to the controller still fitted behind his back.
“This exercise is quite simple. Using the bar, just pull yourself up from the box. It doesn’t matter how high you lift, just so long as you clear the box. You will hear a “beep”, after which you have five seconds to clear the box. You can guess what happens if you fail. Twenty repetitions should suffice”
L groaned. His legs were wobbling under the strain from the previous exercise, and was drooling around the bit-gag which, whilst not really restricting his breathing – the corset did that – it made swallowing difficult.
The first lift was easy, the box made a slight click as a switch detected the change in weight, and he lowered himself back down.
and so it went on. L counted 12 lifts, beginning to feel the strain in his arms and chest muscles.
a second too late and he screamed into the gag as the electricity hit him. “Encouraged”, he managed another lift, stopping the shock
just in time he manged the next, and the next, getting to the point of exhaustion, until finally, no more beeps. He hung from the bar, panting heavily, desperate for water.
Mistress Alice returned, and removed the controller strap from his waist, clipping a leash to his collar, leaving it dangling in front of him.
Mistress Ayesha entered the Room. “It looks as though you need a rest, and a shower”
L nodded gratefully, and made no move to resist Mistress Ayesha unlocking his cuffs and re-locking them behind his back, and leading him into the wet-room, towards the steel cage he had occupied some weeks before. Mistress Alice removed the bit-gag, the crop in her hand reminding L that silence was, if not golden, certainly less painful than speaking.
“Get in the cage” said Mistress Ayesha, after removing the leash from the collar. With difficulty L bent down to his knees, and shuffled into the cage, a process made all the more difficult with his hands shackled behind him. Once inside the door was locked.
Suddenly a blast of cold water hit L. Mistress Alice was holding the pressure hose, drenching him. The water stopped just as suddenly as it began. “You can get a drink, as before”
Click, clack. Both Mistresses left the wet-room, and closed the door, switching off the light.
From being very hot, L began first to cool, then to chill, as the water dried first off his skin, and then more slowly off the corset and stockings. He remembered from his last time in the cage, that the floor had side-walls, preventing water, or in the previous session, urine, from draining away fully. Which meant he was unavoidably lying in about an inch of cold water.
L dimly saw the phallus in front of him, connected by a tube to a clear bag of water. Knowing the choice of drinker was simply to humiliate him, he shuffled forward and drank heavily.
About half an hour later, the light came on and Mistress Alice returned, unlocking the cage and throwing a towel on the floor near the cage. She also dropped a key. Then she left the room, a click indicating it had been locked..
L shuffled out of the cage and moved towards the key, hoping it would undo the lock linking his cuffs. To his relief, it did. He used to the towel to dry himself as best he could, and then, with nothing else to do, sat and waited.
Some while later, there was another click at the door. He tried the door, which opened into the Room. The door on the far side of the Room was also open, next to it a chair with his clothes. Or rather, with Linda’s clothes. On top of the clothes was an envelope, with the familiar letter “L”. Opening the envelope, he found the simple instructions “ Go home”
The boots had started to dry out, and the corset was now merely clammy. He dressed in the skirt, blouse and jacket. No scarf, so the collar was clearly visible around his neck. The black bob wig was under the clothes, so he added that to his dress. He was not sure if he was pleased there was no make-up. Whilst he hated having it put on him, it did improve his female appearance, making his face more suited to his clothing.
Car keys. He checked his/Linda’s jacket pockets. Nothing. How was he going to get home without the car? He looked around the hall, finally noticing another envelope by the front door. His relief was short-lived. A train ticket and directions to the railway station was all there was inside.
It was mid-afternoon, the air was cooling and L was grateful for the jacket, and even the corset and boots, as they added a little more insulation from the February cold. The house was situated in a quiet street, about half a mile from the station, and according to the map, the route would take L through the end of the main street of the small town, then down another hopefully quieter road to the station.
The past sessions had given L some practice walking in the high heels, though his leg muscles were still sore from the enforced circular high-stepping walk. The corset kept L’s back straight, and he found he was rather enjoying the tug of the suspenders as he walked, the occasional draught round the bare legs at the top of the stockings reminding him of his female attire.
With very few people around at that time of the afternoon, he was able to avoid close encounters, crossing the road if he saw someone on the same side approaching. All that changed as he turned onto the High Street. L maintained a medium speed walk, the heels click, clacking on the pavement, their height making him sway in what he hoped was a presentably lady-like way.
This being a small English town, no-one did more than look slightly puzzled and look away when they saw that L’s face did not match the clothes, and the collar, with its obvious D-ring at the centre of his neck was an unusual piece of jewelry. Reaching the station, getting no further reactions except the occasional stare, and an appreciative whistle from a man who probably needed new glasses, L was relieved to see he only had to wait for five minutes for the next train to his home town.
L wished the trains still used the small compartments in the carriages, as they had in the 1960’s, rather than the long open-plan ones in use. L took a seat just by the entrance, so that he was likely not to be seen by people entering the carriage, though in full view of anyone coming down the carriage. He reasoned that would halve the chances of being noticed. He picked up a newspaper that had been left on the seat, fortunately a “broad-sheet” with large pages, which he held upright in front of him. The carriage started to fill up. Then the train left the station, on the fifteen minute journey to his home town.
“Tickets please”. The words startled L and he hurriedly flattened the newspaper to his lap and fumbled through the jacket pockets for the ticket. He handed it to the conductor, who simply said “Thank you, madam” and went on his way. L looked across to his immediate neighbours. An elderly couple looked at him, made some “tut tut” noises and looked away. Opposite him were two “Goth” girls, aged about 19.
“Wow, that collar is soooo cooool” said the first girl. “hey, you’re a bloke” said the other. “that’s cooool too” “Do you often wear drag?” L wondered whether to make a break for the next carriage, then realised the girls were not going to make a fuss, though the volume of their voices carried rather further than L would have liked. “Well”, he said, “Not often but my Mistress forced me to make this journey” “Wow, you have a Mistress, is she strict?” He started to relax slightly, and shifted his position, doing what a woman would not, and crossed his legs. “Those boots are really great, how do you manage with those heels?…and wow, stockings too! “ L hurriedly uncrossed his legs and pulled the skirt back to a more decent position. At this point, the elderly couple stood up, looked angrily at L and the two girls and left their seats, moving down the carriage.
Fortunately, the train started to slow down, to stop at L’s station. He stood up, but as he did, the train lurched slightly and he lost his balance, falling between the two girls, snagging a stocking on the seat edge.. They helped him stand back up again, adding even more to L’s discomfort by proclaiming their discovery of the corset, the bones of which they felt through the blouse. Their final comment was “Hope your Mistress doesn’t punish you to much for laddering your stocking”
L hurried out of the station, hoping to avoid anyone who might recognise him, but the heels prevented a fast walk and he had no wish to trip up. Fortunately, he made the journey back home without meeting anyone, and he was delighted to find the front door unlocked.
“Tea, Linda?” said Jane, from the kitchen.
L sat down, opposite Linda, at the kitchen table, and drank the tea in silence.
Jane seemed quite relaxed with the somewhat strange situation, her husband currently wearing entirely female attire, with the addition of a butt plug held in place by a chastity belt. As he finished his tea, Jane gently suggested that L might like to remove Linda’s clothes and take a shower, a hot one this time, she suggested, grinning slightly, handing him the key so that he could remove the belt and plug.
No further comment was made, that day and L busied himself with some minor domestic jobs. He was surprised to see, in the morning, another of the now-familiar envelopes, with the initial “L”, by the front door. Jane had already left for the University, where today she had to give some lectures and run a tutorial.
Opening the envelope, L found his instructions. “Be at the House by 10 am”
Fearing the consequences of yesterday’s journey, he rushed out to check the car, suspecting quite rightly that Jane may have had something to do with the unexplained flat tyre. All was well, so he started the journey to the House in good time. As expected, the envelope awaited him, just inside the front door of the House. “Leave all your clothes on the chair, go into the Room. You will find a collar hanging in front of the doorway, and handcuffs on the table inside. Fix the collar round your neck and cuff your hands behind your back”
As the door closed behind him, trapping him in the Room, he saw the collar, heavy leather with a D-ring clipped to the chain supporting it at chest height. He buckled it in place, loosely, then clicked the cuffs shut around his wrists. No further sound was heard for ten minutes, except for the occasional clink of chain links as L moved slightly. Then the far door opened, and Mistress Alice strode into the Room, carrying her crop and a short length of rope. L was a little puzzled by her appearance. No boots, no leather, no stockings, just a perfectly normal tracksuit and trainers.
Mistress Alice approached L, moving quickly behind him, grabbing the handcuffs. She deftly threaded the rope around the short chain linking the cuffs and pulled upwards, drawing L’s wrists up the middle of his back, then knotting the rope around the collar. Moving round to the front of the now helpless L, she informed him that Mistress Ayesha was not available today, but that she, Mistress Alice, would be supervising Linda’s exercise.
“But first” said Mistress Alice, “there is the matter of the laddered stocking”
L had hoped that Jane would not notice the hole and the run from it, caused when L stumbled on the train.
L braced himself just in time for the first slash of the crop on his exposed rear. Mistress Alice stopped after six, and said “We’ll stop there, and you’ll get no more provided you co-operate fully” Mistress Alice then went to the control unit and pressed a button, slackening the chain.
“Bend over”
A lubricated butt plug was slowly inserted, which L noticed rather ominously had a cable dangling from it. The plug was firmly fitted, L knew he could not expel it, however hard he tried, the narrowing of its neck and the steepness of the taper meanng that it would need a positive pull to overcome his sphincter muscles, now clamped instinctively around it.
“Now we need to get you dressed”
Mistress Alice returned with a large bag. The first item to appear looked shiny black and as it was opened out was easily identified as a latex corset, underbust, more like a waist cincher. Clipping the busk, Mistress Alice pulled on the laces until L’s waist and lower chest were considerably narrowed. Next a pair of fishnet stockings, rolled up his legs and clipped to the corset. A pair of leather cuffs followed, which Mistress Alice tightly buckled and locked around L’s wrists, currently held in the middle of his back by the rope.
“ I am going to release one hand at a time. Struggle and it’s the crop”
Mistress Alice picked up the crop and stepped away from L, who flinched instinctively as her arm raised. But no blow fell, as in fact she was dislodging something above. Something soft and bright pink fell down, threaded onto the chain attached to L’s collar.
Mistress Alice reached into the bag, and withdrew another black shiny item. She unlocked L’s right wrist from the handcuff and threaded his arm through a gap in the black rubbery item, then clipped it onto the chain in front of him. She repeated this with his left wrist. Lifting the rubber, she drew parts of it around L’s chest, and with some clicks as small clips fastened, L realised he was now wearing a rubber long-line bra.
“Hmm, I think your figure needs improving. What shall we say? C or D? I think D will give you more to think about”
From the bag came two breast forms, initially cold, but soon warming in the tightly enclosed space against L’s chest.
But what was the soft pink against his neck. The explanation became obvious, as again Mistress Alice unlocked first one wrist, then the next, once again passing the hand through a part of the pink cloth. And re-clipping it to the chain. She shuffled the pink cloth around, and to L’s horror he realised he was now wearing a bright pink tracksuit top, straining a little over the recently-acquired bustline.
“Nearly done” said Mistress Alice, cheerfully. From the bag came the matching tracksuit bottoms. “Just step into these”
L hesitated. “Oh dear, must be quicker than that. Crop time”
This time L’s legs took the brunt of the six strokes.
Reluctantly, L stepped on leg at a time into the lurid trousers, which Mistress Alice pulled up to his waist. Next came the black wig, pinned into L’s hair to keep it secure.
Finally, Mistress Alice emptied the bag, taking out a small plastic box, which she clipped to the corset, in the small of L’s back, and two short lengths of what looked like cable. She removed the rope from the back of L’s collar, and rather savagely tightened it, clicking a lock in place. She then locked each of the two cables to the D ring at the front of the collar, and the other ends to each of the cuffs. Moving behind him, L felt slight pressure on his back, where the box had been clipped, and a slight tug on the plug in his rear.
Moving back to the control unit, Mistress Alice pressed the button tightening the chain to L’s collar, until he was almost on tip-toes.
“Almost ready to begin today’s exercise, but first a little demonstration”
Mistress Alice opened the door from the Room, into the hallway and started walking away from L. Some thirty feet from L she turned and smiled. Then moved backwards, watching him closely. Somewhere around thirty six feet, L shrieked as his rear exploded into pain. As Mistress Alice walked back towards him the shocks stopped.
“Put on the trainers, we’re going for a run” “Well, you are, I’m cycling”
Slackening the chain, Mistress Alice released L, also unlocking the cuffs from the collar. L found his hands were now free to move down to his waist, but no further, prevented from doing so by the two thin but very strong cables locked to his collar.
“The tracksuit collar more or less covers your leather collar, and the cables won’t be as obvious as chains whilst you’re running”. “Follow me”
At the front of the house, Mistress Alice climbed onto her bicycle, and started off down the road. Totally embarrassed in his bright pink tracksuit, L stumbled into a run.
The rubber corset rapidly became a torment, as it restricted his breathing, whilst the breast-forms swung wildly, bouncing in their rubber support. The pull of the stockings became a serious irritant, as the rough fishnet moved up and down the same patch of skin. Stockings and suspenders are not the best thing for running in, thought L, also appreciating the stress caused to a well-endowed lady runner.
He realised Mistress Alice was moving away from him…
Whilst the sight of Mistress Alice's bottom, perched on the bicycle seat, was pleasant, it was also moving away, and L realised he would shortly be receiving the "encouragement" from the butt plug, once the range increased to the limit. A quick sprint and he was back in a safe range, though at the cost of a rapid rise in breathing rate, made difficult by the restrictive corset. As time went on, the catching-up sprints became more and more difficult to maintain, until the inevitable happened. The sudden shock made him squawk with pain, rather alarming the two ladies he had just passed, taking their dogs for a walk. Fortunately, Mistress Alice heard the cry and looked behind her, to see the pink track-suited figure struggling to keep up.
Mistress Alice slowed down, to a walking pace, so that L could catch up, and gain his breath. Then she stopped, and handed L a water bottle. He drank, quickly and gratefully. "Well", said Mistress Alice, your face matches your tracksuit" "Enough running for now". Relief flooded L.
Short-lived relief.
Mistress Alice got off the bicycle, and held it next to L. "OK, get on it" As he went to sit on the saddle, Mistress Alice reached behind him, unclipped the control unit from the belt, and to his embarrassment thrust her hand down his tracksuit, until she reached the end of the plug. A click was followed by her hand now reaching down to the saddle, and another click. L tried to get off the bicycle, but found he was now locked onto the saddle by another length of cable, which was just long enough to leave his waistband at a normal level, provided he remained seated, but dramatically exposed his rear if he tried to stand up on the pedals, or worse, to try to get off the bicycle.
Just before the two dog-walkers caught up with them, Mistress Alice pulled L's trousers to a decent level, something that would be very difficult with his wrists still limited in movement. "If you go to the end of this lane, you will find you are on the main road back to your home. It's only 16 miles"
And with that, Mistress Alice jogged off, the way they had come.
At least L could proceed at his own pace from now on. The change in position and movement allowed a little relaxation, though the corset continued to make breathing difficult, and the fishnets continued to rub his legs, the suspender clips now really making his skin very sore by their repeated transit across the same areas of his legs. L found that the length of the wrist-to-collar cables was long enough to reach the handle-bars, but left very little slack, so he had to compromise between leaning forward and slackening the tension on his collar against increasing the tension on his waistband.
An hour later, he was well on the way home, passing through a large village. Suddenly, a cat ran in front of him and he grabbed the brakes hard, in the process sliding forward off the saddle. Unfortunately, he was in front of a group of shops, with several people nearby. The startling appearance of a woman in a bright pink tracksuit was enough in itself, but the sudden exposure of what was obviously a male rear end, added confusion to the mix. This turned into amusement as the audience watched L struggle to restore his decency, and finally laughter as he wobbled off down the street, his face once again matching the tracksuit, though this time from embarassment.
Another hour and he was cycling down his own street, desperately hoping no-one he knew was near. But he made it, and carefully cycled down the path to the back of the house. Pinned to the back door was an envelope, with the "L" on it, indicating he should open it. L almost cried when he saw the key allowing him the remove all his restraints. He looked in at the kitchen window.
Jane was holding her two hands in the form of a letter "T" and a questioning expression on her face.
L removed the wig, then the ghastly pink tracksuit and unlaced the corset. Then, when he could actually turn and bend, first the fishnets, then with a slow and steady pull, removed the plug. A relaxing shower, and he felt almost normal, or at least, as normal as his unusual situation would allow.
He joined Jane down in the kitchen, and with their usual silence after a session, and shared a pot of tea. The rest of the day passed as usual, a few household chores, Jane writing some notes for a tutorial the following day, a meal, then bed. After the exercise, L slept soundly, apart from waking up from a nightmare in which he was tethered to a huge bicycle rolling through a crowd of laughing people.
After breakfast, L decided he should go into his office and check whether any jobs had arrived in the post or email. Returning, disappontedly an hour later, Jane had left for the University. By the front door was a now very familiar envelope. Uncertain whether to be excited by the possibility of a new session, or dreading the possibility that Mistress Alice would be instructing him on a new exercise, he tore open the envelope.
The message was brief and to the point. "I want my bicycle returned. Put on the wig and tracksuit. Be at the house in 90 minutes exactly." The signature was just a stylish letter "A"
It had taken L a fraction over 90 minutes to return home the day before, but that did not include the distance covered during the running session. But at least this time he was free of the corset, and fresh from a good night's sleep. Then he thought " How will she know when I left?" Then he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a small, flashing light. A webcam!
He changed into the hated tracksuit and put on the black wig. Closing the door behind him, he noticed as he left the house that the light on the camera had stopped flashing. The journey time was counting down. He pedalled away at speed, firstly to make good time, and second to clear his home territory. The exercise sessions had done some good, he was able to keep up a good pace, there was little traffic and anyway he could avoid most jams on a bicycle. A mere 75 minutes elapsed, until he arrived at the House. Breathing a little heavily, he parked the bicycle at the side of the house and dashed inside.
As expected, another envelope.
"Remove the tracksuit, but keep the wig. Enter the Room. Lock your wrists in the cuffs, then lock them to the ring hanging from the chain in front of you"
Naked, L did as instructed, the door gently but firmly closing behind him, sealing him into the Room for whatever awaited him.
Almost a quarter of an hour later, the door opposite L opened, and Mistress Alice strode into the Room. L was a little concerned. Mistress Alice was wearing her tracksuit. She was also carrying a small hold-all bag. First from the bag was some kind of leather harness, quickly becoming identified as a head harness to secure the rubber-clad O-ring gag, forcing L to keep his mouth wide open but effectively speechless. An ominously conical item revealed itself to be another butt-plug, similar to the one he had endured on his ride home the day before. "Bend over" L bent as far forward as the slack in the chain allowed, and winced as the plug was pushed home.Then something black and rubbery. "Lift your right foot" "lift your left foot" L did so, to feel Mistress Alice struggling to pull something very tight up his legs. It became clear that he was now wearing a deep pair of shorts, holding him very, very tightly.A short wire protruded from the rear, connected to the plug. Finally, two more cuffs were fastened around his ankles, and linked by a short chain, hobbling him to less than 6 inch steps.
"Do you recall the instructions you were given?" L nodded, and managed to say "ehhh", the ring gag preventing any more.
"So why did you take 75 minutes to get here?" "The instructions said exactly 90 minutes"
That L had no means of telling the time was obviously no excuse, and he was in no position to make any explanation. "The punishment is one stroke of the crop for every minute early, so that is 15 strokes. Be grateful you were not late, it would have been whiplashes instead." L shuddered, remembering the pain of the whipping administered by Mistress Ayesha at his first visit to the House.
Not that the crop was much less painful. Mistress Alice skilfully landed all fifteen strokes in exactly the same place on his buttocks, the rubber shorts doing nothing to reduce the pain, though turning it into a searing sting, rather than a thud.
Before L could react, Mistress Alice unlocked his cuffs from the chain, and dragged him, stumbling against the hobble, into the centre of the room, pushing him face down onto a large thick board on the floor. She unclipped his leg cuffs and latched them onto two rings set into the board, holding his feet about eighteen inches apart. She then unlocked his cuffs and latched them to a similar pair of rings, with his hands close to his sides, level with his chest, forcing his elbows into the air. Mistress Alice rolled a heavy frame over L, above his shoulders. Mistress Alice instructed him to raise himself on his arms. Mystified, L watched her slide a long flat panel under his chest and stomach. As he lay back down, he heard a click, and the panel collapsed slightly. Mistress Alice commanded "Lift" and L used his arms to lift his body in the classic "press-up" position. "Hold" L felt something press into his back, another click. "Down"
Mistress Alice moved to one side, pulling some wires from above L, connecting one to the panel beneath him, another to the cable connected to the butt-plug.
"It is quite simple. If you stay where you are for more than five seconds you will get a shock. Lift off the panel until your back touches the pressure switch above you and you will stop the shock." " I think 30 repetitions should be a good start" Mistress Alice reached down again. "Off you go, then" and she left the Room.
Press-ups are tiring, even if you are in good shape, but after a twenty mile cycle trip, the exertion soon became a challenge. Inevitably, he slowed down, staying low just a second too long. The jolt of electricity in his rear triggered a gasp of pain and a rapid lift to reach the pressure pad above him. The exercise was particularly cunning and devious. Five seconds was not a sufficient rest period, whilst gravity made the nominally safe raised position untenable for more than a few tiring seconds. Three shocks and thirty agonising press-ups later, a beeper sounded, indicating the session was over. L collapsed onto the base and gasped for breath.
Click, clack.
Mistress Alice returned, now dressed in the more familiar style, a tight fitting leather skirt and top, legs sheathed in shiny black tights, and shod in laced high-heeled boots. A motor started and the chain lowered in front of L. Clipping the cuffs together, she linked L's wrists to the chain now lowered in front of him. The heavy frame was rolled away from L's prostrate body, and the connecting cables unplugged. Releasing the ankle cuffs, Mistress Alice went to the wall-mounted control panel and pressed a button. A clattering of chain and the increasing tension on his wrists told L that the session had not ended, and he wearily staggered upright. Bending provocatively in front of him, Mistress Alice took a short spreader bar from the hold-all, and clipped L's ankles to it. From the bag she took another black shiny item, which L saw was a very heavy duty rubber corset. As it was tightly laced around his body, Mistress Alice started the hoist again, so L was forced up on tip-toes, allowing her to add even more tension to the laces. A click, and pressure in the small of his back told L that the corset was locked in place.
"You can dress yourself with the rest of the clothes. You might like to use the make-up. Your train ticket is by the front door" and with that Mistress Alice left the room, the door shutting firmly.
Looking around the room, L could see a small pile of clothes, surmounting a pair of boots. The clothes consisted of a high-necked white blouse, a black waistcoat top and a very short mini-skirt. A pair of seamed black stockings completed the outfit. Realising the make-up would at least improve his chances of not being to obviously the wrong sex for the clothes, he did the best he could. Struggling with the unfamiliar creams, pastes and sticks, he managed to cover the shadow of his beard growth, make his eyes vaguely feminine, though the red lipstick did nothing to reduce the tarty impression that the short skirt and boots gave.
With a heavy heart, he left the House, clutching the train ticket, and click, clacked along the pavement to the station, very conscious of the cold air around his thighs.
The walk to the railway station was, as before, uneventful. The usual British "reserve" inhibited much more than the occasional glance, perhaps a stifled giggle when the watcher worked out the sex of the somewhat over-exposed "lady" high-heeling it down the street. L tried to walk with shorter-than-normal steps, keeping his feet more in line, trying to mimic the female walk. The tight rubber corset and pants kept his shape more in tune with his supposed sex, and the waistcoat top made his lack of bust less noticeable. Perhaps it would have been better if there was something "up there" to make his dress more convincing.
Arriving at the station, he checked the Departures display, and was disappointed to see he had just missed the train to his home-town, and would have to wait at least an hour for the next one. He looked around the station, and seeing a bench seat in a dark section of the platform, he made his way over to it and carefully sat down, adjusting the short skirt as best he could to hide the stocking tops. Time passed, then the public address system came on, mumbling something about delays. L thought he heard the name of his town in the announcement. His heart sank as he read the new listing on the Departures display, a two hour delay for his train. On the bright side, this meant it would be almost dark when he got to the end of his rail journey, and the walk home would be much less embarrassing than the one to the station in broad daylight.
But an hour later, L realised he needed to use the toilet. The pressure from the pants and corset was squeeezing his bladder, and getting more and more uncomfortable. Realising the additional wait, the train journey and then the walk home from the station would mean he would be suffering for at least two hours, he started looking for the public toilets. They were situated on the other platform, so he would have to cross the tracks via the bridge. He made his way to the steps, and was almost at the top when a loud whistle and a roar of approval came from behind him. Looking round, he saw two young men, obviously convinced they were following a rather daring lady who had just given them a view they did not expect, but were happy to see. Then a look of puzzlement, and a mumbled apology. L stalked off in the best show of indignation he could manage. Reaching the platform, he walked straight towards the Men's toilet, suddenly realising that this would cause, if not a riot, at least some disturbance. With some trepidation, he went into the "Ladies Waiting Room", and through to the toilet. He went into a cubicle, then struggled to free himself from the grip of the rubber pants, relieved the pressure on his bladder, and wondered if he could actually remove the pants. But no, the friction from the rubber corset, which he knew was locked in place, made their removal impossible, so he re-arranged himself and went into the Waiting Room. He thought he would stay there as the station was not crowded, but he would at least have some shelter from prying eyes. It was, also, a bit warmer in there, his clothing not giving much protection largely as it did not cover much.
He had almost dozed off, when a voice jerked him awake. "Hey, did your Mistress punish you for laddering your stocking?"
Looking up, he saw the two Goth girls from his previous train journey. "Er, yes" "Coool"
"What's your name then?" "When I'm dressed like this, or being a slave, my name is Linda"
"Mine's Claire, and hers is Steph"
"Who did your make-up. It's dreadful!"
"Oh, thanks" said L " I don't have much practice, this is the first time I've ever put any on"
"We can do it for you" said Claire, grabbing her bag, which seemed large enough to carry a whole shopful of makeup. L thought about it, "Well, it would make me look less silly, perhaps"
Fifteen minutes later, the train arrived, and the three of them left to board the train. The two girls chatted with L for the entire journey, asking him how his unusual life-change had come about, what he enjoyed, what his punishments were, as though it was just another topic of conversation.
The train was drawing into the station when Steph reached into her bag, nodded to Claire who looked into the bag and nodded slightly.
"As we have helped you with your make-up, and we now know all about you, we think you owe us something. Lean forward"
Steph took something narrow from the bag and deftly put it round L's neck. The all-too-familiar sound of a padlock closing.
"Now you are our slave too"
Walking back to his house, L could feel the collar was leather, perhaps half an inch deep, and locked at the front with a tiny padlock.
The front door of the house was locked, so L went to the back door, to his relief it was open. Jane was waiting in the kitchen. He said nothing, but filled the kettle.
"Nice collar, Linda"
"So you have had quite an adventure today, Linda" said Jane, after they had drunk their tea in silence. " I think we are going to have to make some changes in the way you conduct yourself. I will have to speak with Mistress Alice" Jane handed him a key."You will need this, and wash the corset and pants"
L left the kitchen and went upstairs to change. Looking in the bathroom mirror, he was horrified to see the make-up that the two girls had applied. A very light foundation had given his skin an almost white pallor, his eyes were shadowed in a purple-black, and his eyelashes were heavily blackened with mascara. The blood-red lipstick completed the "Goth" look. To think he had spent all the time on the train, and the walk home looking more like a vampire than a woman.
Using some of Jane's make-up remover, he managed to remove the dreadful image. The clothes were carefully piled on a chair.
The key fitted the lock keeping him in the grasp of the corset, and it was with considerable relief that he slackenend the laces enough to unclasp the very wide metal busks. Off came the tight rubber pants, a steady pull and the plug was extracted, and L stepped quickly into the shower, now able to return to his male persona. Well, almost. He examined the collar that Steph had locked round his neck with the small padlock, for which only she had the key. He stood by the mirror, and rotated the collar, noticing some writing pyrographed into the leather. "Property of Steph". He wondered if that meant the collar belonged to Steph, or the person wearing the collar belonged to Steph. He suspected she meant the latter. Further examination showed the collar was not entirely what it appeared to be. Whilst the collar was indeed leather, it was more accurately "covered in leather" and whilst flexible, contained what L rather glumly identified as steel cable, much like the stuff used to secure him to the bicycle. In other words, the collar was going to stay on until he either took the serious risk of injury and used a grinder to remove it, or hope he met Steph and Claire again. As this seemed unlikely, he resigned himself to wearing it for a considerable time.
He remembered to wash the corset and pants, carefully drying them and putting them with the other clothes. He was beginning to learn that any instructions given to him must be followed exactly.
The following morning, Jane left to give a morning's lectures at the University, leaving L to go into his office, to check the post, phone messages and emails. Apart from the usual junk mail and spam, there was an email which puzzled him. The subject line was "have u scene her", but there was no text, just a .jpg file. The virus checker did not flag any problems, so he clicked on the .jpg link. To his horror, he saw, in colour but not very good definition, a picture he instantly recognised as himself, taken as he walked down the steps at the railway station. The girls had been right, his attempt at make-up was only marginally worse than their Goth version. Though he had to admit his general appearance was quite feminine, and convincing.
With no work to do, he decided to go back home, there were plenty of jobs to be done around the house.
Opening the front door, he saw an envelope on the floor in front of him, bearing the single letter "L".
"Bring all the clothes with you. Be at the house at 12 noon"
"Here we go again", thought L, collecting the clothes and locking the front door. Driving to the House, he wondered what would be in store for him. His "exercise" perhaps? though he had to admit that he was feeling fitter but perhaps the "encouragement" could be a little less painful. His rear twitched at the thought of another session with the electric plug in place.
"Arriving exactly at noon, L entered the House, seeing the envelope on the chair by the door into the Room.
The characteristically brief instructions were "Strip, put on the rubber pants, go into the Room and put on the goggles and shackle yourself to the overhead chain"
L struggled to get into the pants, which crushed his "delicate parts" into a smooth outline, robbing him of more masculine lines. He locked the two cuffs around his wrists, and picked up the goggles. He remembered these from his first session with Mistress Ayesha. They allowed only a narrow slit of vision directly below, so he could see his feet, but to see in front he would have to tip his head back far further than it could realistically tilt. And he recalled such attempts cost him several slashes of the crop. By carefully posioning himself, he was able to put on the goggles, clicking the padlock shut, then blindly reaching up until he could grab the chain and lock his cuffs onto the ring at its end. Time passed.
Click, clack.
The familiar sound of high heels presaged the arrival of a Mistress, but which one?
Just in L's field of vision, he saw a tight black leather skirt, surmounting black nylon-clad legs ending in black shoes. A hand gently stroked his cheek, then drifted down his chest and between his legs. L felt the stirrings of arousal, though the rubber pants would prevent much further reaction. Then came the touch of heavy cloth round his body, and the metallic click as the busks of a corset were linked down his chest. Once the corset was loosely fitted, two breast forms were placed against his chest. The corset was quite high at the front, so the forms were fully constrained as the laces tightened. And tightened. Until L was having some difficulty breathing, making the bust he had now obtained heave in a worryingly female way.
Click, clack.
Another Mistress.
This time, the limited view allowed L to determine that the second Mistress was wearing a short black skirt, which might have been velvet, fishnet tights or stockings and laced ankle length boots. He could also see a tape measure dangling from her hand.
Over the next ten minutes, the unidentified second Mistress took a series of measurements on L's body, noting them down on a small pad, whilst the other pushed and pulled L to make the process easier.
Then they both left the Room, leaving L dangling from the chain, to ponder on his fate.
Click, clack
the heels returned, moving behind L.
Hands reached to the back of his head, and there was a small click as the padlock securing the goggles was removed. Now able to see normally, L turned to look at the Mistress. A crop slashed along his rear. He looked forward, hearing the sound of the heels moving around him. Seeing the tight black leather skirt, he realised this was the first Mistress, looking up he immediately recognised Mistress Alice.
"Time for your exercise"
Mistress Alice reached up and unlocked the cuffs from the overhead chain, pulling L towards the wooden board that had featured in his previous exercise session. This time, he was instructed to lie flat on his back on the board, whilst Mistress Alice unlinked his cuffs, fastening them to rings either side of his coresetted waist. Bringing a short length of rope, she drew it through the rings, over L's stomach, anchoring his body.Another length was wrapped round his ankles. Mistress Alice then wheeled the frame fitted with the pressure pad over L, centering it over his feet.
"You will notice that you are not fitted with your favourite plug. That does not mean there will be no encouragement" she smiled. "You are familiar with leg-raises?" L nodded.
"Good, we'll start. Just lift your legs, straight of course, so your feet touch the pressure pad. Each time you do that, this counter will reduce by one. After five seconds, a beep will sound, indicating you must raise your legs again. Fail to lift before the next beep, and your count will rise by one. You can, of course, do them faster if you wish.."
L loooked at the large digital display on top of the frame. It was registering 100.
"Oh, nearly forgot the incentive" she grinned. "The time limit for this exercise is 8 minutes. Whatever number is on the display then will be the number of strokes of the crop you receive."
"Time starts now"
L reasoned that early speed was essential. Years ago he had spent time training in karate, and leg raises were part of the warm-up routine. Also doing them slowly was very tiring. Bracing his arms against the board, he thrust his legs up. The first thirty passed easily, the display now down to a mere 68 when he hesitated and the beep sounded. 69.
With his breathing restricted, the stress become greater, and somewhere around a displayed count of 30 he gasped, forced to rest, seeing the count rise to 31,32,33,34 before his exhausted legs could be persuaded to try again. 29,28,27...
"Time's up"
Dreading what he might see, L blinked through the haze created by the sweat running into his eyes.
Mistress Alice wheeled the frame away, returning with the loose end of a chain disappearing up to the ceiling. She clipped the chain onto the ropess linking L's feet, then bent down to release the rope around his waist. Moving to the control panel, L heard the click of the button, and a clattering as the chain tightened, slowly lifting his feet from the board. With his hands still attached to the board, he was gradually lifted until his bottom was about two feet from the board, legs stretched above him, presenting an immobile target.
"Would you like to count the strokes, Linda?" "And don't forget to thank me"
The first sliced into his left buttock. "one, Thank you Mistress"
The second, in exactly the same place "two, Thank you Mistress"
And so it went on, reaching 20 "twenty"
"Did you forget something, Linda?". "Let's start again"
"one. Thank you Mistress"
Through the sea of pain, L struggled to count the strokes, but finally was able to gasp "24. Thank you Mistress"
Mistress Alice bent over him, placing a key by his right hand. "All done for today" With that, she pressed the button on the control panel and the motor unwound the chain, lowering his feet, and strode out of the Room, shutting the door and leaving L to fumble with the locks. Managing to release his right hand, he twisted painfully to reach his left wrist, finally releasing himself from the board. Very shakily he stood up, feeling the raised weals on his rear. Mistress Alice had been very accurate, and he thought that sitting down would not be an option for some hours.
As he recovered, he wondered what else was in store for him. Mistress Alice had given no instructions, although the door to the hallway was open. Wearing just the corset and pants, he looked around the hall, finally seeing a pile of clothes on a chair by the stairs. The choice was, inevitably, limited.
A dark grey suit, white blouse and black heeled shoes. All very prim and proper, the skirt was just over knee length, the jacket was a tailored design, the white blouse putting L in mind of a lady executive. There had to be a catch, thought L. There was. He started to put on the blouse, also tailored, fitting his corsetted body well, but the collar was minimal, and the front buttoned to only just above his bust-line, just covering the breast forms, but completely failing to hide the collar still locked around his neck. "Perhaps this time, dressed conservatively, no-one will notice it, or perhaps think it is just a heavy necklace"
It was then that he realised the stockings placed on the chair were not the usual nylon, but shiny latex. The choices were limited. It was February, the temperature was falling, snow had been forecast for the afternoon. And his bare hairy, masculine legs would look very odd alongside his suit.
L decided that warmth and a semblance of consistency of clothing was the only option. Putting on a pair osf stockings whilst tightly corsetted is not an easy task. Particularly when the stockings are latex, requiring them to be rolled gently up the leg from the foot. He tried doing it standing, lying on the floor and briefly sitting, but the blast of pain from the expertly targetted cropping put paid to that approach. Finally, by lying on his side, on the floor, he managed to fit the first, then rolled over and fitted the second. Whilst on the floor, he put on the shoes. These seemed to be at least one size too small. Tottering up onto his feet, he put on the skirt, tucking tn the blouse. Now revealed on the chair was the black bobbed wig, with hairpins to hold it firmly in place, a mirror, and a small bag. Opening the bag, he found some make-up and a neatly written set of instructions on how to use it.
As there was no hurry, L experimented, as suggested, finally achieving a passable appearance.
Putting on the jacket, he felt something in a pocket. His train ticket.
Needless to say, an otherwise smartly dressed woman wearing latex stockings drew rather more attention than L would have liked, but after several trips dressed "en femme" he was actually able to ignore the stares and even appreciate the occasional whistle. As he approached the station, he wondered whether Steph and Claire would be there on the train. Perhaps they would release him from the collar?
But the journey home went uneventfully, the girls did not make an appearance, and he entered his house somewhat disappointed. Jane was still out, so he went upstairs, stripped off the clothing and had a bath. No tea.
The following morning, L went to work, returned later in the morning, expecting but not finding any envelope, no instructions, no appointment at the House. And so it was for two weeks.
He paced around the house, until Jane suggested, only suggested he noticed, that he went for a short run. Whilst he had not had any enforced exercise, he was beginning to feel the benefit, and had been going for a 3 mile run most days. Putting on the tracksuit, he said he'd be back soon, and trotted off down the road, not noticing Alice's car pass him, and park a few doors away from his house.
Half an hour later he returned and went to the bathroom to have a shower. Jane called out to ask him to put his sweaty tracksuit outside the door, as she was going to put some washing into the machine. After a much-needed shower, he dried himself on the very small towel, the only one left in the bathroom, deducing that Jane must have removed the others for washing. He realised that he had no clothes to put on, and wrapped the towel as best he could in an unconscious desire for modesty.
As he left the bathroom, there was a sudden flurry of movement. Pushed and pulled, he was forced into the spare bedroom, flattened face down on the bed, the towel falling to the floor.Hands grabbed his arms, pulling them behind him, until the ratcheting of handcuffs stopped any further struggles. A ballgag was pushed into his mouth, a hand pinching his nostrils to force him to open to receive it.
L was then dragged upright, and dropped onto a chair, his hands looped over the back, pinioning his arms. To his surprise, he saw Mistress Alice in front of him, with Claire and Steph by her side.
"Mistress Ayesha said things had to change in your way of life. This is the start"
"If you co-operate, you will receive no punishment. Agreed?" L nodded feebly.
"Silence is required. Any question will require only a nod or shake of the head. You will say nothing"
"Do you understand" another nod of the head.
"First, we need to you dressed a little more suitably"
With that, Steph released the handcuff from L's left wrist and latched it onto a hook screwed into the door, at head height. Claire took another pair of cuffs and did the same thing to his right wrist, fixing him facing the door. Lifting first his left, then his right leg, Mistress Alice rolled a pair of seamed black stockings up his legs, then a pair of very small black satin panties up to his crotch, drawing the thong back into his cleft. A black satin covered corset followed, the breast forms being put in place and the laces pulled tight. Claire and Steph clipped the stockings onto the suspenders, indicating he should then step into the boots beside him. The two girls busied themselves tying the laces on the ankle-length boots, locking them on by the strap around the top.
Mistress Alice left the room briefly, returning with something black, flexible and shiny, which she unfolded to reveal as a PVC dress.
"We are going to release your hands. You will not try to resist us. Agreed?" tapping a crop against her leg.
Claire and Steph unlocked L, moving him next to Mistress Alice, who held the dress towards him. "Put it on"
The dress had a long zip running down from neck to waist, so L ran it down, then stepped into the opening, pulling it up. He twisted and turned until his arms were through the narrow-fitting full-length sleeves. Steph reached behind him and pulled the zip up to his neck. A bit of fumbling, and a click of a lock closing indicated he was staying in the dress for a while.
Bending behind him, Claire pulled on another zip, this time running from waist to the hem, pulling L's legs towards each other. Another click, another lock.
Jane came into the room, carrying something small and white. "Put this on"
A white apron completed L's dress. Now he stood in a tight-fitting black dress, hugging his apparently female form, discovering that the lower zip had reduced the skirt's width to a taper, hobbling him by allowing only tiny strides.
"Well, Mistress Alice, your sister really is very good with a sewing machine". Steph smiled happily.
"I think we all deserve a cup of tea, and perhaps a biscuit"
"Linda, off you go and get it ready, then bring it into the sitting room"
The walk downstairs presented L with a new set of problems. The boots had four inch heels, though L was beginning to get used to walking in high heels. The problems came from the restricted stride length and limited leg movement. Although only just below knee length, the dress was perhaps 25 inches round the hem, and widened only slightly towards his hips. This meant that L's legs could make strides of about twelve inches at best, and his two legs had to criss-cross as he walked. Whilst this added to a very feminine gait, swaying with every step, it made going down stairs a matter of stepping sideways down them. Hanging on to the banister, he made it to the kitchen. Once he had filled the kettle and switched it on, he had time to look, in a bit more detail, at the garment of torture Steph had made for him
The dress was plain, at the front, tailored to fit his corsetted body. He would never get into it without the tight-lacing. The bust was fairly tight across his fake breasts, accentuating them. The black PVC had a bit of stretch in it, so it moulded against his shoulders, coming up to the high collar. Looking in a small mirror on the kitchen wall he could see the ingenious details. The collar, which was about three inches deep was clearly a tube, a small slit in the front suggested something could be fed through. Feeling around the back, he found this tube opened either side of the zip, the tab of which was currently locked to a pair of small D rings, each set into the edge of the collar. He noticed a very similar arrangement on the sleeve cuffs.
He guessed that some form of restraint, chain perhaps, could be threaded through to make secure fastenings.
He was a little puzzled by the bulk of material in the skirt part of the dress, but worked out that the lower zip actually brought together the two sides of a vent panel, allowing the skirt to become much more full around the legs. Ominously, however, the skirt hem bore a close resemblance to the collar, with a tubed section and a pair of D rings either side of the end of the zip, currently in use to prevent the dress being loosened. As things were, there was no opportunity for him to release the restrictive lower hem.
He laid the tray with cups and saucers, a small jug for the milk, and a plate for the requested biscuits. L was able to reach up to the cupboard to get the biscuits, but getting the milk from the fridge proved another problem. The milk was on a low shelf, near the back, and the combination of the stiff corset and the restricted leg movement meant he had to carefully lower himself, side on to the fridge, keeping his back straight upright, but bending the knees. With care he took the milk, put it in the jug, and poured the boiling water into the teapot.
He tottered, slowly, nto the sitting room, where the Mistresses were chatting. Conversation carried on, as they totally ignored him. After a few minutes, Mistress Ayesha pointed at the low table beside them. L was just able to bend far enough to lower the tray onto the table. "Pour the tea" she said.
L put milk into each cup, took up the pot, and poured. To his horror, plain water came out. He had forgotten to put the tea in the pot.
"Oh dear" said Mistress Alice, smiling n a rather unpleasant fashion.
"Try again" ordered Mistress Ayesha.
Steph and Claire giggled quietly.
L, sweating slightly, not from the closeness of the dress, but from nerves, left the room with the teapot. "Must concentrate" he thought, as he made the tea properly. L took the tea back, and successfully poured out the four cups.
"Stand in the corner, facing the wall"
The Mistresses carried on chatting, though the conversation seemed to be becoming rather specific, involving steel bands, collars and punishments. L suspected that he was the main focus of attention.
"I have an idea" said Mistress Steph. "I'll be back in a few minutes " and left the room, going back upstairs where she had left her bag. She returned, and apparently showed the other three what she had brought, though L could not see from his corner of the room.
"Linda, come here" said Mistress Claire. Doing as he was bidden, he noticed some pieces of rope, some thin chains and a leather strap. Mistress Claire looped two of the chains round L's wrists, through the D rings, then told him to put his hands behind his neck, where she locked them in place with a single padlock. "Now go and stand behind that armchair, facing forward" Taking the rope, she looped an end around each of his ankles, them threaded the rope up to the front, through the front legs of the chair. Mistress Steph then went round behind L, and bent down to release the lock and zip holding his legs in their hobble. Pulling on the rope, Mistress Claire progressively pulled L's legs apart, so they straddled the rear sides of the big heavy chair. Mistress Steph pushed L in the back, until he bent forwards over the chair, rapidly being secured by Mistress Claire by looping the rope around the chains linking his hands. Hands lifted the hem of the dress, right up and over L's back, so that his rear was not only exposed, but stretched tight over the substantial back of the armchair.
"Perfect position" said Mistress Alice cheerfully. "Time for you two student Mistresses to get some practice with the crop and the strap. Needless to say, Mistress Alice had brought her favourite crop with her.
"I suggest ten strokes with the crop, then ten strokes with the strap. Each of you"
Forty strokes. L's heart sank. He just hoped they were not as accurate as Mistress Alice, who seemed to gain a perverse pleasure from leaving just a single, but very raised and sore weal with how ever many strokes she applied.
Mistress Steph picked up the crop, holding it cautiously, she brought back her arm and let fly. Afer three strokes, L was beginning to think Mistress Steph had whipping in her genes, just like her sister. But unlike her sister, she applied the strokes across his entire rear, and down his legs, almost to the stocking tops. The strap was a new experience for L. After the first four, he decided it was not something he wished to experience again, but given his position, there was little he could do about it. The strap curled round his buttocks, stinging the entire contact area. The end of the strap flicked onto his balls, encased as they were in the tiny thong providing no protection. He screamed with pain.
"Hmmm, better gag him" said Mistress Alice, enjoying her role of instructor. A silk scarf was stuffed into his mouth and held in place with another.
Then it was Mistress Claire's turn.
"Don't forget your horse-riding, think of Linda as a naughty horse"
L's screams of pain were now much quieter, though his distress was obvious from the way he struggled in his bonds. And finally, it was over. The ropes were undone, the chains released, and the skirt pulled down over his reddened bottom, to be secured once again by a padlock.
"You may clear away the tea things. Then go to your new room" L looked at Mistress Ayesha, puzzled. "The one in which we dressed you. That is your new room"
L miserably took the tray into the kitchen, washed the cups, saucers and teapot and put them back in the cupboard, the milk in the fridge, and the biscuits into their tin. Having had nothing to eat since breakfast, he thought for a moment that he could take a biscuit with him, but noticed Mistress Claire watching him from the sitting room. Not wanting another punishment, he walked carefully to the stairs, with difficulty climbed them, and went into the small spare room, pushing the door shut behind him.
It was then that he realised there was no longer a handle on the inside of the door, just a metal cover-plate. The furnishing had always been limited, as the room was almost never used, but they seemed more sparse than usual. Just a narrow bed, a small side table and a wooden chair. He opened the fitted wardrobe. The contents were not as expected. Most of the items were things he had worn at the Room. The tight-lacing corset, then high-heeled laced boots, fishnet and ordinary black stockings, the tight rubber pants, the latex stockings. In addition was a black satin maids dress and a selection of panties. Two pairs of high-heeled black shoes were also there, both with lockable ankle straps. No male clothing anywhere.
He looked carefully at the bed. Someone had made some modifications. Eyelets were screwed into the wooden posts of the head and foot boards and a set of four cuffs were neatly laid out under the pillow, together with a set of padlocks, already open, but with no keys.
By the side of the bed, on the small table was a jug of water and a glass. He filled the glass and drank, the water doing little to assuage his hunger but relieving his thirst.
He noticed an envelope on the table. Opening it, he read the instructions.
"Fit the cuffs to your wrists and ankles. Lock them in place. Get on the bed and lock your cuffs to the bed frame. Sleep. You may wish to use the "facilities" before you restrain yourself to the bed."
In the corner of the room was a bucket, and a roll of toilet paper. Things were not looking very good, thought L.
But knowing the consequences of disobedience, he did what he was told, including the humiliating use of the bucket.
As he closed the locks, he realised there had been other modifications to the room. The mattress had been removed from the bed, and in its place a solid wooden board, covered by a thin layer of foam rubber beneath the sheet. Before clicking the wrist cuffs in place, he pulled up the thin very itchy blanket up to his shoulders. Then the final click and he lay back. Almost immediately the overhead light went off, and L discovered another modification. The window was completely blocked off by a panel of wood.
In darkness, shackled, he tried to sleep.
Morning came at last. Or perhaps not. All L could determine was that the single, unshaded lamp had come on, making him blink. He looked around the room, almost devoid of furniture, no feeling of personality.
By the door, was an envelope with the familiar "L" written on it. It must have been pushed under the locked door at some time whilst he was asleep. The he noticed that his right hand was resting on a wet patch on the sparse bedding. He had not looked in that direction as the wall was immediately next to that side of the bed. Then he saw the string, coming down from the ceiling, tied to a small hook, the other end attached to a small key. He had obviously missed seeing the ice-block release. As expected, the key fitted the padlock securing his right arm to the bed-frame. Once free from that restraint, he unlocked his left wrist. Sitting up in the corset and hobble dress proved very difficult, with his feet still secured, but after much twisting and turning he was able to reach the locks, and get up, tottering on the high heels that he was still wearing from the day before.
Carefully bending down, L picked up the envelope, and opened it. Inside, more keys. With considerable relief, he found they would open the locks securing the dress, so he was able first to release the hobble skirt, then reach over his shoulders, to the padlock securing the collar. At this point, he thought it better to read the note inside the envelope.
"One of the keys will allow you to remove your boots" L paused, noting the use of "your" boots. "You may remove the corset and your stockings" another repetition of "your"
"Put on the tracksuit, and go for your usual run, leave the house silently, return silently, shower and return to this room, shutting the door"
L looked in the wardrobe, and there, to his great regret, was the bright pink tracksuit. With no mirror, he could not see what had happened to his make-up overnight, though the black wig was still in place, and after a little adjustment, felt secure enough to stay on during his run. But how to get out of the room. He gently pushed it, noting a small swing towards him on releasing the pressure. It must be unlocked, for how else could he obey the instructions. Then he remembered the hooks used to secure his cuffs, on his first entrance to the room, grabbed by the Mistresses awaiting him. He reached up and pulled gently on them. The door swung open. The house was almost in darkness. Cautiously, he went down the stairs and went through the kitchen and out into the back garden, quietly locking the door and putting the key under the rock they always used for a spare key.
L shivered. Whilst technically morning, 6am in February is not a good time to be out in a tracksuit. Cold and almost dark. Resigned, L started off at a gentle trot, the exercise would at least warm him up a little, though with no gloves his hands soon became very cold. The black wig did, at least, give his ears some slight protection from the frost. Fortunately, at that time in the morning, he was unlikely to bump into anyone who knew him.
As he ran, he thought about his circumstances. He could, literally, make a run for it. He was outside, no restraints, no awful electric butt-plug, and apparently no supervision. But where would he go?. It would take some serious explanation to account for why he was wearing make-up, a wig and a pink tracksuit, with no means of identification, and no money either. Whilst he could probably get his daughter, Sadie, to accept a reverse-charge telephone call, the same difficulties would still apply, and he would have to bear the shame of his position to her. He realised he had got himself into the situation, and try to find a better opportunity to escape. If he really wanted to.
Returning to the house an hour later, it was getting lighter and the early risers were already leaving for work. He had a close moment when his neighbour drove out almost in front of him, as he passed their gateway, but fortunately the car window was still partially frosted over, and L passed before his neighbour would have seen his face. Just to make sure, L carried on running past his own house, stopping as though for breath until the car had passed, L bending over, face towards the hedge. Giving time for car to go out of view, L looked around to check, then as all was clear dashed into his garden, falling over the milk bottles by the back door. Just one broken, he picked up the pieces of glass and dropped them into the waste bin, then carefully opened the door and went in, putting the remaining bottles in the fridge.
He crept upstairs, noticing the light creeping under the door of their, no Jane's, bedroom. He went to the bathroom, showered and dried himself on the tiny towel, still damp from the previous day. Going in to the room, he saw another envelope.
"Put on the thong panties, black corset and stockings" he read.
L checked the wardrobe, and took out the listed items.
"Make sure the corset is tight"
L wondered how to pull the laces tight. On other occasions, someone else had done the tightening. He had to find a means of maintaining the tension whilst the laces were pulled through the pairs of eyelets behind him. Then he saw the hook screwed into the wall at waist height, someone with practical experience of self-lacing had placed that. The laces were tied right at the bottom of the corset, but were threaded so that a loop exited on both sides, at waist height. Having previously discovered the problems of putting on stockings, and particularly of attaching them to the suspender clip once the corset was tightened, he put on the thong panties, then rolled the stockings up his legs, attaching them to the four suspenders. Clipping the busks together, with the corset loose, he was able to ease the two loops, starting to tighten the corset, until he could put them over the hook. By putting gentle tension on the loops, and working in sequence from the top down, or the bottom up, he began the process of tight-lacing himself. Five minutes later, he had the corset as tight as the Mistresses had managed. Tying the laces proved difficult, for as soon as he removed the loops from the hook, they slackened the tension. Eventually, he managed to re-tighten the laces and form a bow knot.
Breathing shallowly, he read the rest of the instructions.
"Go down to the garage. Open the car boot. Inside you will find a gag and handcuffs . Put on the gag. Get in the boot, Put on the handcuffs. Close the boot. "
It was not a lot warmer now, than when he returned from his run. He was also wearing much less warm clothing.
He crept down the stairs. Jane's bedroom light was on, the door ajar, and the sound of water in the shower indicated she was getting ready for the new day. He crossed the cold kitchen floor and stepped out, right into the puddle of milk resulting from the broken bottle. With no shoes on, his feet were immediately cold and wet, the rough path hurting his feet. To get to the garage was easy, but to his horror he found the side door was locked.
The main up-and-over door looked out onto the road, anyone passing would see this corsetted figure struggling with the door. No alternative. L rushed round the end of the garage and heaved. The door opened noisily. Another neighbour, walking her dog past the end of L's drive, looked towards the noise, glimpsing the stocking-clad legs disappearing as the door closed downwards again.
Unable to reach the light, the car filling almost the entire width of the narrow garage, L had to make do with the dim daylight getting in around the door. Opening the boot, he felt around, eventually finding the ball-gag and cuffs. The ball-gag had, of course, a small padlock, opened and ready for its job securing the gag until someone with the key deigned to release it. Fitting the handcuffs was easy, the ratcheting clicking continuing until L thought they were tight enough. Cramped into a ball, he pulled the boot shut.
In the inky darkness, he waited. Shivering.

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