As Expected
by lj


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

as expected - beginning
As expected, the front door of the house was unlocked, but with no sign of life. L entered the hallway, surveying a neat but otherwise unremarkable interior. On the oval table by the door was an envelope, sealed, but with a large letter L gracefully written in italic lettering hand-written, not printed.

L opened the envelope, to find a single sheet of paper, bearing the simple instructions.

Lock the front door. Follow the hallway to the door straight ahead, enter the room. Inside you will find another note

The hall-way was carpeted, warm and gently lit, a few pen-and-ink sketches of young ladies on the walls. A closer look showed the subject matter was different, each was wearing some form of restraint, subtle, but nevertheless restraint. One had a delicate collar, which could simply have been a ribbon choker, the effect changed completely by the small but unmistakeable padlock at its centre. Another showed a girl reaching up to pick an apple from a tree, though strangely she was using both hands, because they were held together with bangles, again lifted from the decorative by the lock securing them together.

At the end of the hallway, L opened the door and entered the almost dark room, lit only by a candle on a small table beside the door, L shivered, both from excitement, and from the noticeably chillier air. The envelope, next to the candle, was again decorated with a letter L. Inside, another single sheet of paper

Close the door. Remove all your clothes and place them neatly on the chair by the door. On the table, you will find ankle and wrist cuffs. Put them on, adjust to fit firmly and lock them. You will see two chains hanging from the ceiling. Face the door you came in, and lock your wrist cuffs, one to each chain

L pushed the door closed, noticing as it did so that there was no handle on this side, and the click of the latch was firm. As instructed, L stripped, carefully folding and placing each item on the chair. The cuffs were padded leather, adjustable and lockable. Each had a D ring securely fitted into the strong strap forming the centre of the cuff. Snapping each padlock closed, L looked into the gloom to see the two chains, each with a padlock dangling from the end. Turning to face the door, L hesitantly reached up and clipped the wrist cuffs to the open padlocks and paused. This was the start of an adventure, at first a wild fantasy, through investigation, and now to a reality. Did L have the courage to click the locks shut?

Click, Click. Silence, save for the gentle clinking of the chain securing Ls hands high above.

Behind L, a door opened and suddenly the room was bright&.


The sudden burst of light surprised L, a few click-clacks of high heels on the hard floor, and then a brief blur of something overhead, then all went dark as the blindfold was tightened. A brief pause and L felt a pressure on the lips, something smooth, insistent and then fingers closed over the nose...panic as breathing was halted and then a sudden gasp, and the ballgag slipped in, the strap tightened, perhaps a little unkindly tight. And then the heels, again, receeding. Despite the blindfold, L could see that the light was switched off, and silence fell.

Minutes, hours later, the light came on, and the heels returned. Somewhere below, L could hear clinks of sound. Then a pressure on the left ankle, a click, familiar now as the sound of a padlock closing. A push, outwards on the left ankle, and L shuffled the foot outwards, uncertain of what was right. An unseen hand grasped the right ankle, drew it outwards, and another click. The spreader bar now held both feet apart,and L settled back to the floor, with ankles separated by 3 feet, increasing the tension on the chains above so L's body was stretched, though not uncomfortably so. Just enough to demonstrate helplessness.

And once again the heels receeded, and the lights went out.

Time passed, and with it L's confidence drained. Was this what was expected? All control had been surrendered. To someone barely known, her agenda? her methods ? her motivation ?

and then the lights came on again, dimly viewed through the shroud of the blindfold. And the click-clack of those high heels.

A sudden burst of pain as the flogger struck across L's back, then across the legs, between the legs, across the belly, across the chest and higher to the nipples, and lower to the parts L would hide...random, no clue to the next target, except that it was not going to be the same as last time.

and then darkness, the receeding heels, and silence.

Time passed.

The pain of the flogging was dimming,, not so bad really, was it, thought L. I asked for this, and got it. And then the lights came on again, the familiar heels, then a sudden shattering white heat of pain as the whip wrapped its vicious body around L. A dozen more and L slumped down on the binding chains above, grateful for their support. No receeding heels this time. What was next?

Soft hands moved around L's body, then something was wrapped around, brought together at the front. A series of small clicks suggested something was being secured, though what, L could not guess. Until pressure started to develop, high up at the top of the chest and slowly working downwards. A series of tugs, pulls and ever-increasing tightness gave a clue to the new garment. The corset was clearly not a fashion accessory in the soft-porn world, but a serious instrument of tight-lacing. Leaving the upper chest to move, a little, the waist was drawn in inexorably, forcing L to breath high up, in short breaths. Just when L thought no more tension could be applied, a riding crop, or perhaps a cane was applied with considerable force. In the resultant frenzy, the laces were pulled in just a little tighter. And then the ominous click of another padlock, guaranteeing the corset was staying just where it was.

and then the now-familiar receeding heels, and darkness...

as expected - no longer

The pressure of the corset kept L breathing in short gasps for quite a while, until the pain of the whipping subsided into a dull ache, and the adrenaline returned to normal levels. At least the corset kept L vertical, rather than slumping into the chains, increasing the pain in the wrists. Ankles were getting painful, though, with no support, whilst maintaining the spread position dictated by the unrelenting bar. And oh for a drink of water. As if to read L's mind, She returned, the lights came on, and after a brief pause, L felt hands working at the fastenings of the ball-gag. With a "plop" and a splash of drool down L's chest, the gag was removed. "please....." started L, the voice cut off and turned into a yelp of pain as the crop struck a stinging blow to the left buttock. "I just wan...." another slash of the crop, this time to the other side. L drew the perhaps obvious conclusion that conversation was not an option, and remained silent whilst a sports drink bottle was applied to L's lips. Grateful gulps of the not unpleasant liquid were taken in haste, in case the bottle should be pulled away too soon. And then the gag was pushed back in and secured. And still She had not spoken. But the lights stayed on, and She stayed, silent, waiting ?

There was a brief rustle of something being removed from a package? a bag? then L felt those soft hands grasp his penis, now entirely relaxed, and work it towards a partial erection. Then L felt something rolled over it, rather like a condom, but much thicker, and heavier. A gentle tension pulled the tube back between L's legs towards his buttocks, the tension maintained by a cord secured to the rear of the corset. The spreader bar was unclipped and L gratefully moved his legs back together. The respite was short, as a mechanical clattering noise started, and L felt the wrist chains pull upwards, ever increasing the strain until standing on tiptoes was the only way to ease the pain.
And again, the soft hands went to work again, something was looped over the left foot, then the right, and drawn up the legs until it became clear it was pair of elastic, perhaps rubber panties, securing him gently but firmly. And then a pause, and the hands worked again, as a smooth nylon stocking was rolled up the leg, and clipped to the corset, and again the right leg. Rubbing the stockinged legs together was really rather a pleasant sensation, and distracted L just a little from the uncomfortable position. Then another long tube was drawn over the left a tube, a boot. The same with the right leg. L concluded, rightly, that they had high heels, as the extra height considerably lessened the tension on the wrists. Reminiscent of the corset, L felt an increasing pressure from ankle upwards, as the boots were laced tightly up each leg. And was that the click of a padlock ?, then another?.

There was a scraping noise behind L, who then felt a pressure against the back of both legs. A quick slap of a crop on the inner left thigh, followed by another on the right suggested that widening the spacing between the ankles was required, repeats after the first shuffle proved inadequate. Rope was suddenly wrapped around L's left ankle, the quick reaction to pull away rewarded by a fierce slap of the crop. Repeated again, on the right ankle, both of which were rapidly bound together. Then more rope, this time tightly binding knees together, above and below. L swayed uncertainly on the wrist suspension, no longer knowing what might come next, the expected scenario now no longer being followed.

The clattering started again, and the tension from above began to relax, only increasing L's difficulty with balance, something made immeasurably worse by the blindfold. But the hands now guided L back and down, onto a heavy chair. More ropes, this time securing L's bound feet centrally, but pulled back under the chair. The ends of this rope came up over the thighs several times, making a return to standing impossible. Something that felt like a strap around the waist pulled L back against the chair. And then the clattering started, and the tension on L's wrists relaxed completely. But relief was temporary. Click, click as the two padlocks securing the wrist bands to the chains were opened, but before L could regain any use, the arms were drawn behind the chair, followed by the inevitable click as the wrists were linked and locked.
The posture collar came as a complete surprise, wrapped around L's neck and drawn tight by the laces at the rear. Although unseen by L, the collar was fitted with a shiny "D" ring at the front, and once laced, was locked in place. Now unable to turn more than a few degrees left or right, L was in no position to survey the surroundings when the blindfold was suddenly whipped away. She was standing behind him, fiddling with something, then the click clack of heels as She walked away. Then the lights went out before L could make any sense of the room..

Silence, a different darkness, and the feeling of utter helplessness, restriction of movement, enticingly enough to think there was some hope, but in reality little more than a shuffle here, a shuffle there, a slight tilting of the head, a grunt behind the gag.
A gentle glow was developing in front of L, revealing itself to be a flat TV screen, perhaps 3 feet wide, and only six feet away. And then the first picture came on the screen. Of a girl, in a corset, sitting tied to a chair, then another, part-suspended from chains from above, then another, in black fishnet stockings and heels, legs spread by a bar, her hands cuffed to the centre, another bent partway over a desk revealing a thong-clad rear. L started to become aroused, not surprisingly as these were the images of his dreams.
Suddenly a vibration started, somewhere below L. The rubber tube encasing him was vibrating, gently, oh so gently. Not localised on the vital sensitive nerves, enough to raise the expectation of orgasm, but not to trigger it. L writhed back and forth, in as much as the bonds would let him, desperately trying find the maigic postion that would release the tension. But no, just on the edge, as picture after picture faded up on the screen, from which L could not turn, L writhed, unsatisfied until exhaustion set in.
In a dream-like, part waking, part sleeping state, L became aware of the lack of gag, the lights bright and the pressure of the drinking bottle. Gulp, gulp, gulp..and then came sleep...

as expected - or is it?

L woke, feeling that perhaps the sports drink had just a little something extra in it. As the fuzzy feeling started to fade from consciousness, L realised that a few changes had occurred during sleep. The corset had gone, the posture collar remained, but the cuffs were now steel, perhaps stainless, smooth and heavy and linked to chains that led off into the unseen distance. The cuffs were not actually locked together, allowing freedom of a sort, but the unmistakeable implication of the impossibility of escape. It was dark, but L realised that it was doubly dark, no lights, but the blindfold had returned, or rather a pair of goggles with opaque lenses, and after investigation, found they were also locked in place.
A tightness below was found to be a black latex thong pantie, though the infernal vibrating tube was still in place, though mercifully at peace.

As if to guess L's next action, there was the rattle of the chains over the mechanical cogs of the winch, as L was again drawn slowly but surely upwards, preventing the removal of the thong and tube, until L was standing, with arms raised but not taut. Lights came on, and it was then apparent that the goggles did not in fact completely cover the eyes, but had a small slit along the lower edge, so L could see the floor for perhaps a yard or two from his booted feet. A gentle tightnes around the thighs showed the black stockings still in place, they were hold-ups and did not really need the suspenders earlier fitted of the corset.

Click, clack...She had returned, now for the first time visible, at least as far as just below the waist, the posture collar preventing sufficient elevation to see any more through the slitted goggles. L admired the tight black leather skirt and high-heeled shoes, until the tip of a crop became briefly visible, before striking first left and then right, then the tip was held, meaningfully, at the floor between L's feet. L dutifully lowered his head, reducing the delightful view to just the shoes.

The shoes click-clacked out of view, behind L. A short pause and a clink of metal, then the pressure from the tip of the crop on the inner thigh suggested widening of the legs was a good idea. Another pressure from the crop and a hasty outward movement of the other leg before the crop could deliver its persuasion in earnest, widening the spread to a couple of feet , and was followed by click, click as the spreader bar was locked in place. Another clicking sound from behind, and L found first the right cuff and then the left cuff being locked onto another spreader, forcing the hands about a yard apart.

A new noise suddenly started, a hum, perhaps an electric motor, as L realised the chains lifting his arms were slowly moving forward. Before overbalancing, L shuffled forward, following the direction, with little choice. Progress was made difficult by the spreader bar and those high heeled boots, still locked in place. Into the restricted view provided by the goggles came a horizontal bar, perhaps a scaffolding tube, at waist height, towards which L was being inexorably drawn. The forward pull carried on, even though L was now forced against the cold metal, then stopping.

Click, clack as the heels brought the author of suffering closer. With the forward inclination forced by the pull of the chains, L could see the boots, the locks and the spreader bar. More ominously, into view came first the heels, the black stockings, then the black leather skirt, and now a crisp white blouse, as She locked the centre of the spreader bar to a ring in the floor. L desperately leant forward, to bring the slitted view high enough to see Her face. The rubber thong provided no relief from the stroke across the buttocks and L looked back down to the floor in front.

Click, clack went the heels, silence, then the lights went out again, leaving L to contemplate the future.

an ending

How had all this started ? L had been married for 23 years, to Jane, a clever girl with a PhD in Psychology, lecturing in that subject at a nearby University. Their sex life had been active in the early years, occasionally adventurous, well, mild bondage and a bit of slightly kinky clothing. Unfortunately for L's fantasy, stockings were not a part of her wardrobe, uncomfortable, Jane said, and that was that. And then a gradual decline of intimate contact, and so the fantasies began.

Trawling the web, L came across Informed Consent, a UK site featuring the BDSM world. An advert caught his eye "Mistress Ayesha, subtle but firm scenes for experienced and new players" Reading more on Her website, he realised that here was someone interesting, but more particularly interested in giving Her clients, or should that be slaves? what they wanted, and to expand their experience. Setting up a new email account, how kind of Google to provide it, he made his first hesitant contact. The reply was short. "These are my fees (eye-wateringly expensive) If you wish to make an appointment, I will require payment in advance, and a detailed account of your experience and desires for the session".

A convenient cash job, rare in L's field of work, provided the money, and about which Jane would remain ignorant if he chose.

Then everything fell into place. Next week, Jane was going to a Conference on some abstruse Psychological subject, something she did every now and then. She would be away for a week, taking the opportunity to visit their only child, a daughter at the same University holding the Conference. L emailed Mistress Ayesha, hoping that She would be able to accept his booking early that coming week. The characteristically terse reply was to the point. "Monday, 10.30 PayPal my fee before arrival, or the door will be locked" An address was given, and that was it. L shivered, and made the payment. Five days to wait.

And here, as L waited in the darkness, I am....chained over a bar in a dark room, leaning forward and hanging from my wrists, waiting for a stranger to do who knows what. The list of "desires" listed in his email to Her had run out some time ago, this was uncharted territory.

And then, halting his reverie, the lights flashed back on. Click, clack the heels approached, She walked up behind L. A hand drew the thong to one side, across L's left buttock, and something cold, and wet? trickled down the cleft. And then something insistently pressed, then inserted, then stretched until the pain was intense, then a further push and the muscles relaxed, gripping the butt plug round the narrower base. A quick wipe with a tissue removed the surplus lubricant, and the thong was returned to its place.

She walked round to the front of L, clipping a short chain to the D ring at the front of the posture collar, gently but firmly drawing it downwards, locking it to another ring in the floor. L was now forced a little further down, but the object was clearly to prevent the head rising, with his back still only perhaps 30 degrees from vertical - just enough to put a continual strain on the arms and wrists. Just visible in the slitted view, L could see the end of a flogger dangling next to Her shoes, as she stood to one side.
The flogger tip moved out of sight, though its location became immediately apparent, across L's back. Again and again it fell, different location each time. Across the back of the legs, buttocks, back, between the legs, down the back, across the front of the legs. And then it stopped.
Click, clack went the heels, receeding now.

What next? though L, through the stinging, throbbing pain from the many lashes. On cue, came the answer. The tube vibration started, then the butt plug started a faster and more violent vibration. Remote control, guessed L. The two worked in opposition, then harmony, as L became more and more excited, until a peak was almost there...and the two vibrators stopped. And paused for an eternity, then started again, a cycle to repeat another dozen times. L was, to say the least, frustrated.

She came back, a clinking of chain as it was drawn across the floor. The chain securing L's posture collar was unlocked and replaced by the new chain. Through the slits in the goggles, L could see Her hands, one holding a pair of scissors. She moved out of sight, then L was alarmed to feel cold metal at his crutch, then a sudden release of tension from the groin, as the thong was cut away, and the hateful tube vibrator removed. Next, a firm tension on the butt plug resulted in an apex of pain, then increasing relief as it was withdrawn. A brief wipe with tissue tidied the lubricant. So is this the end of the session?, thought L. The heels moving away suggested this was so, but no, they were returning. More cold metal, this time around L's waist, then those soft hands grasped his limp penis and guided into some kind of tube. Some more cold metal over his crotch, and it all suddenly became obvious, a chastity belt. Click went the lock, and L was now encased, his sensitive nerves enclosed in a static surrounding, held fixed against his body, preventing any form of stimulation.

Hands moved below him, as She removed the spreader bar. L could feel Her reach up and unlock the spreader bar separating his hands, so that L was loosely suspended, but still leaning over the bar. A motor hummed, and the chains moved back, over the bar. Before L could react, She released both wrist cuffs from the chains and drew them behind him, locking them again. Exhausted, pinioned, and tottering on the high-heeled boots still locked on his feet, L fell sideways. She caught him, held him, yes She held him, but as She took his weight, gave a brief yelp of pain. Then click, clack as She walked away was just a little unsteady. The lights went out, though some illumination remained.

L stood, uncertain as to what to do, when another mechanical sound began, the winch, drawing the chain attached to the collar, and L with it, towards the other end of the room. Then the motor stopped, and throught the slitted goggles, L could see a small table, and on it several keys and an envelope. With difficulty, hands locked behind, L tested the keys until one made the left cuff open. Now free to use both hands, L worked through the rest of the keys, cuffs, posture collar, goggles, and boots until only the chastity belt remained locked. There was no key for it. L struggled with the laces on the boots, wavering unsteadily to maintain balance, but finally the tension in his calves was reduced, though the muscles shook for a few minutes, getting used to their new, if normal position.

The envelope, bearing the italic "L" was propped against the small table lamp giving the sole light by which to read. Inside, a handwritten note.
"Aysha hopes you have enjoyed your visit. Your clothes are in the hallway.You may keep the chastity belt"

L looked around, to see he was standing by the door through which the adventure began. Sure enough, there in the warm hallway was a chair, with his clothes, folded as he had left them hours, days ago. He dressed. "You may keep the chastity belt" he thought, "how the hell do I explain that to Jane". The drive home gave him an opportunity to recall the session, though the weals from the whip provided their own reminder. That would make showering a bit difficult if Jane was around, but there were four days for them to subside, before she returned from the conference.

L arrived at the empty house, checked the answering machine to hear Jane chatting about the interesting conference. Her paper had been well received, and whilst there, had had a great evening with their daughter, Sadie, she seemed happy, and said she was really looking forward to coming home at the end of the week. And that Sadie had introduced her to one of the University staff who was trying to get some new certificates drawn up, as Sadie had mentioned Jane's interest in calligraphy. Then there were the bills to look through, the answering machine messages and finally the emails. And four days of work to look forward to.

The chastity belt provided another reminder. He had four days to remove it, Jane was sure to spot it later, if not feel it at their homecoming embrace. But it was well-made, stainless steel and consequently almost impossible to remove without serious machinery and perhaps personal injury. Three days passed, with L increasingly desperate, but no further forward in removing the. Every day at work was a torture in itself, he could put no serious thought into the quotation he was working on, the belt a permanent reminder of his session with Her, and its cruel deprivation of relief from his frustration.

Checking his email on Thursday, L remembered his "covert" Google account and logged on. There was just one. From Mistress Ayesha. "key in the post"

L stayed at home that morning, waiting desperately for the post to arrive. What if it didn't? Jane was due back later that morning. L's relief was immense, the post arrived at 11.30, and there was a small packet, with Her writing, and inside, the key, wrapped in a pair of stockings, which L recognised as the ones he had worn throughout the session. Hurriedly removing the hateful belt, L showered and dressed. He hid the belt, with its key - perhaps he would play with it later? and the stockings ? perhaps them as well?

Minutes later, Jane's car arrived. He went out to meet her, they kissed and embraced, and L picked up her case to carry it into the house. Jane went to the passenger side of the car and took out her laptop, and they made their way up to the house. L noticed she was limping slightly.

Jane's story

Jane would say it was Lyss's fault. Lyss said it was her Father's. When Jane heard this from Lyss, she was a little shocked, until Lyss explained.

At the end of her first term at University, Lyssandra had been moaning about the cost of being a student. Her Dad, running a small carpentry business, made enough to maintain a modest way of life, and without expensive holidays and cars, managed to afford to keep Lyss's horse in its stable in their own field. Knowing the financial position, Lyss didn't labour the point but went on to recall an amusing incident earlier during the term Lyss had joined several University Clubs during "Freshers Week", including the Riding Club. She was a very competant rider and was welcomed, rapidly gaining a place on the Team. Coming back to her College one Saturday from a riding competition, she went into the College Common Room, where a group of mainly male students had been watching a TV football match. The rowdy chat stopped dead as Lyss walked in, still wearing her tight jodphurs, tailored white shirt, black leather boots, her jacket slung over one shoulder, her crop in the other hand. She was conscious of the eyes following her as she went over to the drinks machine, mischieviously bending over to put the cup in the bin when she had finished her drink. Several of the men looked just a little uncomfortable. "I'm not surprised" said her Dad, "There's probably a few who'd pay good money for you to use that crop on them!" They laughed and went on to chat about other things.

Then, towards the end of the next term, the College ran a Fancy Dress Dance, open to both students and staff. Lyss, having left her costume to the last minute, came up with the idea of using her riding gear, but perhaps a little "tarted up". So she arrived in the jodphurs, clinging to her delectable rear, polished black leather boots, a black bra clearly visible through the close-fitting white shirt, complete with a blue and black checked riding stock around her neck, which raised her chin a little and added to her naturally striking appearance. And of course, carrying the crop.

The evening progressed as student events do, with various forms of alcohol having the usual effect. Lyss, standing by a pillar in the big cellar used for the Dance, was slightly "relaxed", resting from some frenzied dancing. One of the lecturers, a middle-aged chap, staggered uncertainly over to her, leered at her, and mumbled "how much for a good thrashing ?" Without giving it any thought, Lyss said "one hundred pounds", giggled slightly and walked away, completely forgetting the encounter in minutes.

Two days later, Lysss found an envelope in her student "pigeon-hole". Inside, two £50 notes, and a piece of paper, with the message "Your humble slave begs you to accept this gift. If it is your wish, please name a time to your convenience, that you may visit me in my room in College". At first, she dismissed the idea, but the £100 is £100, she was broke, and how long could it take?, and he had more to lose if it became public. So she left a note for him, stating she would arrive at his room that Saturday at 5pm. This was deliberate, as that would fit very nicely with returning from her next riding competition, so her wandering around the University in her riding gear would cause no more than the usual interest.

Telling this to Jane, some months after Lyss had graduated, and moved to Jane's Department, to continue as a post-grad student, she sketched the details of the next three years. That first thrashing was repeated several times, then the grape-vine produced a steady but very discreet stream of willing, and more importantly, paying victims. So much so that Lyss had now bought a pleasant detached house, paying the mortgage by her rather unconventional spare-time occupation.

And it was in this house that Jane made the transition to Mistress Ayesha. How did she get there? Jane's Department was concerned with Behavioural Studies, and Lyss wanted to do her PhD in investigating the perception of pain as pleasure. At first Jane took the obvious mainstream course and thought "S and M", hardly suitable as a thesis subject. So Lyss explained that pain and pleasure from other activities, athletics for example, had many such incidences, and Jane accepted her as a student. Over the coming months, their friendship. Over a glass of wine (or two or three actually), one evening, Lyss let slip her house-funding income. Lyss said hey, why dont you join me? After the initial shock, Jane thought it sounded like fun, and could be a way of helping her and L's finances too. And she could bring some extra, very well educated, ideas on how to expand the "business"

And so, that fateful Monday, L arrived at the front door. Jane was, to say the least, surprised. She phoned Lyss at her room in the University, who calmly said make sure he cant recognise you, have some fun.

Janes interest in the idea was kindled when she realised L was spending a lot of their money on his secret fantasy, and perhaps a little revenge was called for. She was already dressed for her alter ego, Ayesha, drawing some inspiration from Lyss, a tight, tailored white shirt, black bra, narrow black leather skirt, just above the knee, seamed black stockings and four-inch heeled black shoes. It always excited her to put on the stockings, in Ayeshas role they were part of her personality and gave a clear transition from her other self. She was even finding she no longer felt them uncomfortable.

She decided suspense, in both meanings of the word, were the order of the day. L had detailed some of his fantasies fitting this idea, and Jane/Ayesha had set the Room accordingly. Lyss took after her Father with regard to practical things, and had equipped the Room with a central winch, electrically powered, and a track using an electrically powered garage-door opener to drag the victim across the room. Some heavy pipe had been set into the floor in various places, to provide frames for suspension, brackets allowed the easy alteration of height to suit the victim, or occasionally not suit them! Rings set into the walls and floors provided convenient anchoring points. L had now met some of them.

Ls fantasy had started with a wish to be held taut, wrists separated, having willingly stripped for what was to come. Not part of the plan was the blindfold, but then L had no idea who Ayesha was. Nor the spreader bar. The flogging was in the plan, though perhaps a little more sustained than expected. Jane enjoyed the whip, £50 per stroke, as she remembered the £650 fee, their money.

As Jane, she realised it all made sense. L never missed an opportunity to cross-dress, she remembered the parties they had gone to, fancy dress optional but often including L dressing as a St Trinians schoolgirl, complete with stockings, a sexy nurse in similar garb. So if thats what he wants?

After the session ended, Jane spent some time bathing her twisted ankle in cool water, to try to reduce the swelling and the pain. Now that was ironic, She, the inflictor of such delicious pain, was now suffering from the actions, albeit unintentional, of the victim.

She was not entirely surprised when, a month later, a meek request for another visit arrived.

There were quite a few more fantasies in Ls list, and She had some of her own. She named a date and time. And the instruction to wear the chastity belt, leaving the key at home.

a second visit

This gave L some serious problems. Jane was not going on any conferences, and he had no reason to be away from home overnight. Letting down Mistress Ayesha did not seem a good idea. As the weekend ended, and the working week began, L tried to think of a way to make the appointment. He had already paid, managing to raid a bank account they rarely used, so was doubly desperate. On Tuesday evening, Jane said she would be away overnight later in the week, their daughter Sadie had phoned while L was at work to ask her Mum if she could visit her at her University. The calligraphy that she had done as a sample for the certificates was considered well worth using, and the Admin. staff member wanted to commission Jane to do a full set, for the coming Graduation Presentations. And it would give Jane the opportunity to have another girlie evening with her daughter. "What night would that be?" asked L, as casually as he could. He could not help but smile briefly when Jane said "Thursday". The smile was not quite brief enough, for Jane to not notice.

Thursday came. Jane did not go into the University that morning, she had some notes to catch up on, she said. Another problem for L. How to put on the chastity belt without her noticing ?. He couldn't take it with him and put it on later, as he had been instructed to leave the key at home, and the design of the belt required the key to both open it, and to lock it in place. Jane was in her study, so he muttered something about trying to find a book he'd left in his workshop. Jane watched him carefully as he went into the garden, to his shed, given the grand title of "workshop" but a shed, nevertheless. Through the shed window, she could see him reach up to a shelf,and bring down a wooden box. He disappeared from view, in the depths of the shed, then re-appeared a couple of minutes later, lifting the box back onto its shelf, finally emerging, walking a little stiffly.

He said his goodbye, Jane said she'd leave a message when she arrived at Sadie's place, if he didn't answer the phone. "Well, he won't, will he" thought Jane.

L drove off, nervously anticipating the coming 24 hours, relieved that he had managed to find a way to meet Mistress Ayesha again.

Jane called Lyss. "He's on his way, make him welcome. I'll be along soon". Lyss laughed, "Yes Mistress". She was working in her study, conveniently situated above the Room. She had recently installed CCTV and a video recorder. Some of the clients wanted a record of their session, and Lyss was using some of the footage as part of her research project...well, she had to justify the expenses to the grant funding administrators, and could hardly tell then what else was being recorded! Jane thought it a huge joke, although she rather hoped one of the pompous men on the application panel would turn up for a session and could see how they liked being hung out to dry, literally in this case.

L arrived at the door of the Victorian house, situated in a leafy street off the main road, parking a few yards down the street. Tentatively he pushed at the door, which gently swung open. By the door, was a note in the now-familiar italic script. He closed the front door, and as instructed went to the end of the hallway, past the intriguing pictures. A new one, a girl apparently dancing round a Maypole, ribbons flying in the breeze, but with a subtle twist. She wore a collar, locked to a bar fixed to a huge nut, threaded on the Maypole, forcing her to travel many yards, perhaps miles for her freedom as the nut unwound to the top of the Maypole.

He entered the Room. On the small table by the door were wrist cuffs and a metal collar bearing five D rings, together with four small padlocks. The second note, dimly seen in the light of the solitary candle, waiting for him in its envelope, bearing his initial, instructed him to lock the collar on, then lock the collar to the chain lying on the floor by the table. Wrists were then to be locked into their cuffs, and then to lock these cuffs to the D ring at the back of his neck. This proved quite difficult, as he could not see what he was doing, but finally the lock clicked shut, forcing his hands behind his head, with his elbows high up, forming something like a race-horse's blinkers, restricting his sideways view. As he clicked the lock shut, a motor started, and the winch began to draw him into the centre of the room. The tension continued, now drawing him upwards, so that the collar pulled at his neck, lifting his chin so that all he could see was the ceiling. Mercifully the motor stopped before he started to choke. The lights came on.

Click, clack. Mistress Ayesha was approaching. Behind, L heard the clatter of chains, then felt a pressure to his left, a click, pressure to the right, and another click. He moved slightly, and was rewarded by the sound of rattling chain links, and a sharp slap from a crop. Then he became aware of a movement to his left, but in front. Straining against the collar, he managed to glimpse blond hair, a black mask across the upper part of the face, shielding the eyes, which practically glowed through the eye-holes." Mistress " he gasped. The crop struck like lightning, first left, then right, across L's bare thighs. Soft hands fastened two more chains, to the remaining D rings, then click, clack, as She walked away.

There was another clatter of chain, though this time not motorised. First one, then the next until all four chains were pulled outwards from L's central position and secured to rings in the walls. L felt something wrap around his right ankle, then round his left, and he found he was now shackled by a chain permitting no more than a foot of separation. Next the motor started, to L's great relief, relaxing the upwards pull, until he could hold his head normally. She returned, from behind L, and her hands reached around to release the winch chain from the collar. Click, clack. She left the Room and the lights went out.

In the candle-light, L surveyed the scene. Ominous shadows hinted at floggers, whips, gags and plugs, neatly arrayed on the walls. He could just make out the chair, bolted to the floor, into which he had been tied, in front the wide-screen monitor which provided such exquisite torture during his last visit. He found he could rotate in the collar, which loosely held him in the centre of the Room, the chains being short enough to keep him standing on the cold floor, to see that they were each anchored to rings set high in each of the four walls. After completing the circuit, he faced the door through which he had arrived, and waited for what would happen next. And waited...ever more uncomfortable, his feet beginning to ache from the cold, cold pressure of the floor's unyielding surface.

Lights. Click clack, and then, into his view, a Riding Instructor. Complete with tailored white shirt, hunting stock, skin-tight jodphurs and shiny high-heeled black boots. And the crop. She had blond, very short cut hair, almost white-blond, her face partially covered by the black leather mask he had briefly seen earlier, before the crop had persuaded him to look elsewhere.

To his surprise, from behind, came click, clack, click, clack. L was confused, tried to turn to see the second heel-wearer. A sudden movement, then the sting of the crop, from Mistress Ayesha, and he looked forwards to see her arm raised again. From behind, a "swish" and a second crop struck his buttock, then his leg. From the front, another swish and a stinging slap to his left nipple. Mistress Ayesha, in front of him, changed from crop to flogger, he watched as her ar raised again, totally unprepared for the slash of a flogger from behind. L tried to turn to face his new assailant, but again the floggers struck. L managed to turn, and caught a glimpse of white blouse, black leather skirt, black stockings and black high heels, before a rain of blows from the flogger made him scream. That was the outfit he had seen, when he last visited Mistress Ayesha. And her figure was as he remembered from the view through the slitted goggles. So who is the other Mistress?

For what seemed like hours, the flogging continued, occasionally replaced with a crop, until L's whole body was burning with pain. He could twist and turn, but never managed to escape the rain of blows.

And then, it stopped. The blond Mistress walked slowly towards him, her heels giving her the height to look slightly down on him. She was holding a chain. From behind, Mistress Ayesha released his left hand, then his right. Stiff from the sustained un-natural position, L could do nothing to stop her locking his arms behind him. The blond Mistress held her crop in front of L, gently tapping him between the legs, an unspoken indication to stay absolutely still. A posture collar was fitted from behind, a click of the lock indicating it was staying there. Then the blond Mistress deftly clicked a lock shut, securing the chain she was holding to the collar. From behind, a hand gripped L's nose shut, he gasped, and the ball-gag passed between his teeth, snugly holding down his tongue. Another click and the gag was staying.

Click, clack, from behind, as Mistress Ayesha walked away. And then the blond Mistress, her grey-blue eyes sending their piercing message to L. Stay still. And then she walked away. Then the winch motor started up, and the tension drew L to the middle of the room. And the lights went out.

Lyss's research

Jane and Lyss sat down to a light lunch, some cold meat, salad and a crusty bread roll. It was nearly 2pm, L had been strung up and flogged for nearly an hour, and was now languishing at the end of his chain, still encased in the chastity belt, shuffling bare feet on the cold hard floor. Jane still regarded his treatment as justified by the underhand way he was financing his fantasy, even though the money was simply moving from his pocket to hers. And anyway, he asked for it. Perhaps not all, but then, following a script was not what he needed. She was the Mistress, after all.

Then Jane's mobile phone rang. Her heart sank, it was the Professor, Head of Department. They had been pitching for a large grant to fund their work. One of the peculiarities of the British University research was that much was funded by outside sources, and a research team , and even Department could fail if grants were not available. The news was not good, they needed to re-draft the application, and they needed to do it now. Jane put the phone down and explained the position to Lyss. She was fully aware of the problem, having been through the same exercise to get her PhD grant. "OK", she said "I can occupy L myself, I have a few ideas" The grin she gave Jane confirmed her devious thoughts. Jane said she would get back as soon as possible, but probably not much before 7. "No problem, I'll make sure L is ready for bed"
Jane changed from Mistress Ayesha to Jane, removing the boots and leather skirt, and dressing more "normally", but keeping the stockings just make the meeting with the Professor more interesting. She was beginning to enjoy the tension of the suspenders as she walked, the feel of the bare skin, and the hint of risk that the lacy tops would be visible if she made a careless move.

Meanwhile, Lyss went to her study and booted up the computer. She had a programme she wanted to try. Part of her research. A possibly dubious, even illegal part. She went to her bedroom, to change from the Riding Instructor outfit, into something a little more revealing. Her figure had no need of it, but a black leather, under-bust corset certainly accentuated her curves, the narrow black silk thong covered her, just...and the fishnet stockings clipped to the suspenders on the corset focussed the mind of any male lucky enough to behold. After lacing up her boots, she picked up a small plastic box and went down to the Room.

L snapped awake from his thoughts as the click,clack of heels indicated action was about to begin. Cautious of turning, he remained, looking forwards. "Do not move" said a soft voice. "Close your eyes, and open your mouth" A ball-gag was stuffed in and locked in place. Different from the last one, this had a broad panel across the lower part of his face, and with a breathing tube through the middle of the gag. Still effective at rendering him incapable of speech, but much less restrictive on his breathing. Something round and soft was placed in his right hand. "Hold that" said the voice, and as he did, he heard the sound of tape being pulled from a roll. The unseen Mistress wrapped the tape round and round his balled fist. Then the left hand received the same treatment. A motor started up, and the track system brought a dangling chain into L's view. L's collar was clipped to this chain, and the winch chain was removed. The motor, again, and L was drawn across the room towards the monitor screen. The chain between his legs was pulled slightly, a click suggesting it was now secured to a ring in the floor. To his right, L saw that the Mistress was the blonde one. He then realised that he had never heard Mistress Ayesha speak.
"I am Mistress Alice" "Mistress Ayesha has something more important to do, than to beat you." " I will be looking after you until she returns"
MIstress Alice then busied herself with the contents of the plastic box. Not able to identify what was in the box, L waited, nervously. Something about Mistress Alice suggested she was dangerous. L was puzzled when something that felt like a cloth pad was stuck to his inner thigh. Then another to the other leg. Then two either side of his left nipple, two to his right. One on each buttock. The a click, and sudden freedom below, as the chastity belt was removed. Something wet in the cleft of his rear, and the return of pain as the butt plug was pushed inside. A hand gently grasped his penis, wrapped a narrow tape around it, and then the belt was refitted around him, locking in the plug. Mistress Alice then returned to the plastic box, and took out a jumble of wires. Each had a small plug, one by one she inserted these into the sockets dangling from each sticky pad attached to L's body. Taking a small block from the box, she plugged in the other end of all the wires, each into its own socket. L was beginning to get very worried. He recalled seeing pads like these on some web-sites specialising in electro-play, and the way the girls leapt and screamed suggested things were going to get worse.
Mistress Alice carefully tidied the cabling on L's body, using spare sticky pads to keep the cables secure, and finally clipped the block to his chastity belt. Then, having checked everything was well-fixed, she unlocked the short chain linking L's feet, removed the padlock linking his hands behind his back, and click-clacked away.
The lights went out, leaving L still shackled to the track chain above, but free to move in a circle perhaps 6 feet across, and with arms entirely free, albeit with hands made totally useless in their prisons of tape.

Up in her study, Lyss checked the computer was running, the programme loaded, and ready to start. She had connected another small block to the USB port, a brief warning panel popping up to confirm a connection, both between the port, and the block now attached to the unsuspecting L. Starting the video recorder, she moved the mouse cursor to the "Start" button, and pressed it. A control panel appeared. She had already loaded the test parameters, but it helped to see the stimuli listed as they occurred, so she could keep an eye on her "subject" on the second monitor fed from the camera in the Room.
Lyss had been looking at early Psychology experiments on conditioning, and in particular a peculiar set of experiments examining "religious behaviour". This had little to do with organised religion, but was an attempt to find what makes a person have views on the world which cannot be sustantiated by actual proof, that they are beliefs". The experiments were mainly carried out using pigeons, then a common research tool as they were easily motivated by grains of corn! The basis of the experiment was to reward the pigeon when it performed a particular activity. The activity would be totally at the whim of the experimenter, so for example, if the pigeon stood on one leg, it was rewarded. The brighter pigeon would associate standing on one leg with reward. The experimenter could then reward another activity. By much repetition, the pigeon would end up standing on one leg, turning round twice, standing on the other leg and turning round twice the other way. This totally pointless sequence was rewarding, but was arbitrary. Just like primitive Man believing that sacrificing some unfortunate goat stopped the floods coming.
Lyss's version was exactly the opposite. No reward, just pain.
The monitor in front of L switched on. The simple words "do whatever you think will make you more comfortable" came on the screen.

A searing pain shot through L as the electrode on the butt plug was coupled with the tape around his penis. He crumpled as far as the neck chain would allow. A "beep" from the monitor directed his attention, "not that" in large red letters appeared. Another "beep" and a nerve fire started on his buttocks. L stretched up, clasping his useless hands to his rear and the fire stopped "better". Apparently at random, parts of his body were seared with pain, the screen prompts confusing and increasingly terrifying him. He hopped on one leg turned left, turned right, raised one arm, raised the other, sequence after sequence making no difference to the electric reward. Time passed in a meaningless blur until finally, he collapsed, exhausted, literally hanging from the neck chain. Watching his collapse, Lyss quickly ran the motor to lower him to the floor. She halted the programme and saved the data file, before going down to the Room. Apart from some slight bruising to the neck, L appeared OK, if somewhat stunned. Lyss removed the pads, the block and the rest of the gear. L was starting to recover, so she clipped his cuffs together, in front of him and locked them to the track chain. With some round-nosed surgical scissors, she carefully removed the tape binding his hands, then ran the motor so his hands were above his head, although he was now sitting upright. Lyss threaded a short chain around L's ankles, linking them as before, just a foot apart. and unlocked the chastity belt.

" You may want to use the bathroom" What a quaint way of putting it, thought L, but with the butt plug still stuffed inside, he thought it was not such a bad idea. Lyss ran the motor so the chain slackened. "Through that door" and pointed to a third door in the Room. L shuffled into what turned out to be a "wet room", the rubber floor draining to a channel along one wall. Ominously, there were stainless steel rings set flat into the walls and floor. L shuddered. As feeling returned to his limbs, he took the opportunity to remove the butt-plug, make use of the toilet, and use the shower. Despite the chain and collar around his neck, he began to feel "human" again. The soft towel dried him gently and he began to warm up.

The door opened, and Mistress Alice entered, holding a crop in one hand, and the chastity belt in the other. "Put it on". Remembering the torture, yes torture, of the previous hours, he complied hurriedly. Mistress Alice left the room, click,clacking away on her heels, her slim, corsetted waist and beautifully framed bottom swaying above the high heels. L felt himself becoming aroused, then the frustration of the belt's tight grip dashed his excitement. A motor started, and the chain tensioned, compelling him to leave the wet room and follow its path. In the middle of the room stood Mistress Alice, the motor stopped. " hands behind your back" and a slap of the crop. Once again, the soft ball and the tape, and in a couple of minutes L was once again helpless. Naked, belted and with paws, not hands. The motor started again, and L realised he was being drawn towards a small cage. The chain had been threaded, first through the open door, and then through the steel bars forming the narrow end of the cage. With a grim inevitability, L crouched down to enter the cage. Once inside, Mistress Alice closed and locked the door, throwing a key to L. "Remove the chain" Mistress Alice click,clacked out of the room, through the door leading to the hallway, and, L thought ruefully, freedom.
and the lights went off

crime and punishment

Jane returned from her meeting with the Professor, looking tired, but happy. They had reached a sensible solution, re-worked the application with some better supporting arguments, including referring to the successful research being carried out by Lyss, and were optimistic that this time the result would be favourable. Both wishing they did not have to waste such a lot of time jumping through administrative hoops.

Lyss was in the kitchen, still in her revealing outfit, her modesty barely improved by the large cashmere shawl draped around her bare shoulders and across her otherwise bare breasts. But she was still "on duty" and needed to stay dressed in character. "Do you want some tea?" said Lyss, "Oh, do I just. But I need to use your computer to finish off this application, just a few notes, 5 minutes, no more. I'll take the tea with me"

Jane put the mug down on the desk in front of the PC, moved the mouse and the screen lit up with Lyss's usual home page, the rear view of a slender woman, naked but for a thong, holding a coiled whip. Shaking her head gently, Jane loaded the memory stick contents onto the hard drive and started her notes. She had almost finished, when she moved her mug of tea to one side and pushed the mouse connected to the other PC. The screen lit up after a few seconds, to reveal a close-up photograph of L, her husband, strangling against the collar around his neck. She flicked on the Room camera and the infra-red lamps, to see him alive and well, locked in the cage. Her initial panic was followed by serious concern. What had happened whilst she was away? Realising the photograph was actually a "still" from the video recorder, she skipped back through the recording, to the start. With increasing horror, she saw L screaming, leaping around in panic, obviously in considerable distress and look of absolute terror on his face.

She might beat him, that was what he had asked for, literally, but this was torture, plain and simple. She tore downstairs, into the kitchen, and slapped Lyss, with considerable force, around the ear. The shock, the force of the blow, and the pain in her ear stopped Lyss, karate-trained, from responding. Before Lyss could even speak, Jane had spun her round and pushed her against the wall. Grabbing a stocking from the radiator, she quickly bound Lyss's wrists together, behind her back, and dragged her into the hall, slammed open the door to the Room, grabbed the winch chain and cinched the stocking looped around Lyss's wrists. She ran out of the room, to the control panel and started the motor. Lyss found herself, as she recovered from the shock of the last few seconds, being forced into a strappado position, tottering on the 4-inch heels to maintain her balance.

L could not quite take in what had happened. He was lost in thought when the door suddenly opened, the brightness of the light hurting his eyes, temporarily blinding him. As his focus returned, he could make out Mistress Alice apparently bending over, her hands held up by a woman in a smart blue pin-striped business suit, black nylons, and low heels. Her face was away from him, and anyway, she left almost as quickly as she had arrived. The Room lights came on, and L was startled to see that it was indeed Mistress Alice, struggling and clearly secured. She was also yelling abuse, using language that was far from ladylike. After a while she calmed down a little, and then the door opened, and in strode Mistress Ayesha - or at least he assumed it was She. No longer the white blouse, black leather skirt, stockings and boots, but a black leather waistcoat, tight shorts and fishnet tights, her feet encased in laced knee-length boots, with impossibly high heels. Her face, no hope of recognition, just a mask covering from just above the mouth to her hairline. The dark brown hair was held back in a severe pony-tail. L thought the colour vaguely familiar.

She carried a length of rope, heavily knotted at one end. Whilst L was still trying to work out what this was for, the rope snaked out around Mistress Alice's legs, the heavy end making it loop around twice before coming to rest. Jane knew Lyss's karate skils, and was not about to get kicked whilst she continued the punishment she had in mind. Lyss did not expect the rope, looked awkwardly around to see Jane's hand approaching rapidly. Flinching, Lyss relaxed her mouth just enough for the ball-gag to be forced in. Wasting no time with her experienced colleague, Jane secured the ball-gag with its padlock, wrapped and locked proper cuffs around the stocking-bound wrists, finally doing the same with the booted feet.

L watched in amazement as his torturer was strung up in front of him, gagged and her discomfort added to when Mistress Ayesha twisted Mistress Alice's nipples, then fixed on clover clamps. L noted, with some slight satisfaction, that the clamps were linked by elastic bands to two weights, translating every move into a bounce that repeated several times until the energy decayed, to be started again by the next movement. It did not help that her breasts were pointing almost to the floor, so there was no relief whatever from the incessant throbbing pain, punctuated by sharp stabs as the weights shifted. L was actually rather enjoying this. His view, from the low cage, was of the posterior of a young, fit lady, her breasts dangling seductively, viciously clamped, the long legs in their fishnet stockings, shifting foot to foot in those high heels.

When the first lash struck, L winced almost as much as Mistress Alice. Her dangling weights jerked up and down, like an echo of the crop. Even with the gag, the grunt of pain gave voice to the agony being felt on that delectable rear. L counted 35 strokes, before Mistress Ayesha stopped. Not because the punishment was over, but her arm was tiring. Mistress Ayesha left the room, and L heard a motor start. The track chain shifted towards the hapless Alice. Mistress Ayesha returned, with a spreader bar, which she secured to the track chain..She unlocked Mistress Alice from the strappado chain, lifting the useless arms to the front and up, locking them to the spreader bar. A second spreader bar was fetched, and Alice's legs were unlocked, very carefully, and re-locked to the bar. The stress of the strappado, and the cropping, had knocked most of the fight out of Alice, she had no energy to resist. Now her victim was suitably secured, Jane thought she would have another cup of tea, and rest her arm.

Having the Room lights on allowed L to properly survey his little prison. The cage appeared to stand above the room floor by some six inches, with metal almost to the floor, suggesting some kind of feet supporting it. The frame was one-inch steel box-section, the bars the twisted reinforcing steel often used to strengthen concrete, nicely welded and completely secure. The ceiling was made the same way, but the floor appeared to be aluminium, the type used to make non-slip gantry platforms and stairs. The moulded raised bumps were not conducive to comfort, but that was probably the idea. Not that he had any way of knowing, but the builder of his prison was slung from chains in front of him, Lyss had received some strange looks from the metal supplier, particularly when she asked for all those identical lengths of steel rod "just like prison bars" said the man, "yes", said Lyss, "exactly". She had been really pleased with the welding, not easy joining heavy rod to thin box-section. The cage door did not go fully to the floor, a horizontal slot effectively being formed, the purpose of which was not immediately obvious to L There was just one other feature, and it worried L. Attached to the centre of the narrow end of the cage, towards which he had been drawn by the chain, was a large and embarrassingly well-moulded penis.

He was distracted from the possibilities by the Room door opening suddenly. Mistress Ayesha had returned. She walked, click, clack, to the wall bearing the collection of whips, crops and floggers. Alice looked up, startled, to see Mistress Ayesha approaching her, holding a leather flogger, her appearance all the more menacing in the tight leather hood which accentuated her blazing eyes. Alice shook her head violently. She had used this instrument herself, and from the reactions of her victims, it was plainly very efficient. The cashmere shawl had long since slipped from her body, so she stood, practically naked, and defenceless. Mistress Ayesha walked slowly round her, brushing Alice's skin with with the flogger tails, gently pulling its strands between the writhing girl's legs, up to her crotch, across the bare breasts, tugging at the clover clamps and their weights. A pause, silence, no movement, then suddenly the flash of leather and a muffled scream. The tails of the flogger wrapped around Alice's bottom, then upwards, between her legs, then across the bare breasts, jogging the clamps into their joyless bounce. Without actually meaning to, L counted 33 lashes. Alice quivered and strained against her bonds, grunting and squealing with every strike. Her bare flesh glowed red, mottled where the crop had marked with a raised weal.

Mistress Ayesha, stopped, hung the flogger back on the rack, and brought a collar over to where Alice hung, exhausted, from the spreader bar above her. The collar was passed around Alice's neck, and locked in place. Mistress Ayesha unlocked the leg cuffs, and gently supporting the girl, released her wrist cuffs, clipping a leash to the collar. Alice regained her balance and control, and humbly walked behind Mistress Ayesha, as she led her from the Room.

Some fifteen minutes later, the door opened again, and Mistress Alice returned, dressed in a loose track-suit, and walking in obvious discomfort, still wearing the leather collar. She was carrying a small tray and set it down by the door of the cage. On the tray was what looked worryingly like an intravenous drip bag, and a shallow stainless-steel dog-bowl. The flexible bag appeared to be full of a liquid, and L's heart sank. He had read stories about enemas, and the idea did not excite him, particularly when he looked at the phallus attached to the cage side. But no, to his surprise, Mistress Alice spoke gently. "I am commanded by Mistress Ayesha to apologise for wrongly subjecting you to my experiment. I realise I crossed the boundary between willing pain and pleasure, and wilful torture. I am sorry. You witnessed my punishment. One lash for every minute you suffered." She slid the bowl under the door of the cage, in front of L. Then, she lifted the bag, and connected the dangling tube to the back of the phallus, then clipped the bag to a ring on the wall, above the cage. " There is water in the bag, food in the bowl. Goodnight"

Expecting dog-food, L was pleasantly surprised to find the bowl contained a stew, fragrant and welcome after the tribulations of the day. Eating presented L with a problem, as his hands were still encased in tape, but as he was caged like a dog, he must eat like one. The bowl was shallow enough for him to lick, grab with his teeth, and otherwise eat a substantial part of the its contents. Messy, but feeling more comfortable, he noticed his thirst. After a bit of thought, he concluded that the phallus must be some kind of "drinker" similar to that used by animals no longer feeding from their mother, but still dependant of others for food. Trying not to think about what he was sucking, he drank greedily. Some minutes later, the lights went out, and L attempted to find a comfortable way of lying in the cramped cage, to get some sleep.


It was, not surprisingly, not the best night's sleep that L had had. Although the floor warmed a little, the raised bumps pressed into his flesh, the restricted length of the cage preventing any chance of laying flat. But the Room was now quite warm, and he managed a fitful doze.

With only artificial light, L had no idea of time in the outside world, but his body clock told him it must be getting near dawn His bladder was also very full. The stew had been well-seasoned, perhaps even salty, and he had drunk almost all of the water in the bag. As time passed, the pressure grew. He could see the door of the wet-room, dimly in the light creeping under the door leading to the hall-way, but had no way of getting there. Now he could hear the trickling of water, someone having a shower upstairs, perhaps. Sounds of water running, and the painful fullness overcame L's sense of decency, and he relaxed his bladder muscles and urinated through the holes in the chastity belt, onto the floor of the cage. To add to his discomfort, the base of the cage had raised sides, trapping the pee, so that he could not escape the cooling wetness. The sound of water from above had stopped. Time passed.

The lights came on. Mistress Alice entered, wearing a version of a nurse's uniform that would never have passed inspection at a proper hospital. The coverall, which did nothing of the sort, barely reached to tops of her stockings, and was cut very tight, gripping her young body very fetchingly. "Oh dear, the doggie has wet herself" She unclipped the water bag, and then stood on a lever at the end of the cage. It raised the whole cage slightly, then L became aware of a slightly unsteady movement, then realised the cage was free to move on hidden wheels. Mistress Alice bent down, L wishing he was in a position to get a better view, and pushed the cage into the wet-room. Unable to turn round, L did not see Mistress Alice pick up the pressure hose, but he certainly felt the icy blast of water directed at him. "We must have a clean doggie, she has an important day ahead" "put your paws through the cage bars". Wrist cuffs were locked around L's wrists, and locked either side of a bar, so he could not withdraw them. The round-tipped scissors made short work of the tape, and L gratefully flexed his fingers. The lock linking his wrists was removed, and he was instructed to put his hands through the slot below the cage door. The cuffs were again locked, and a chain secured to them, the end of which was clearly locked to a floor ring outside the cage. Mistress Alice unlocked the cage door and stepped back. She tossed a key towards him. "you may remove the belt, you have ten minutes to complete your cleaning and toilet"

The chain was long enough for him to complete his tasks, drying himself with the large, and rather rough towel. With nothing more to do, and unable to move far, L sat down on a dry part of the floor and waited. "what did she just say?" "We must have a clean doggie, she has an important day ahead" "she?" Mistress Alice returned, carrying a steel collar and a crop. "stand up, turn round" The menace of the crop was incentive enough to comply. His hands were grasped and pulled together, locked in place, and the collar was fixed around his neck. Snapping a leash in place, L was led out of the wet-room and back into the Room. At the centre of the Room, a chain hung down. L's wrists were locked to the chain and the now-familiar motor hum presaged the inevitable raising of his arms. The slitted goggles were strapped in place, restricting his view to just the surrounding floor.

Click, clack. Mistress Ayesha, from the sound of the heels. Something soft but firm was wrapped around his body, some tension, and a clicking of metal on metal. He remembered the corset, the wide metal busks and their pegs and slots, then the insistent pressure on his body as the laces were pulled tighter and tighter. The motor started, and he was raised on tip-toes, then the tightening continued. Rolling up both legs, he recognised the touch of nylon, One leg, then the other was covered in sheer stockings. Cold metal between his legs, a click, and the chastity belt removed any hope of sexual release, and in addtion, release from the corset.. The tension from above slackened and the track started to move, drawing him towards the chair. "sit" said Mistress Alice. He sat. Hands moved swiftly, strapping him firmly to the chair, bolt-upright in the corset's iron grasp The goggles were removed. Unable to grasp the meaning, L saw a small pad approaching his face. Fearing the worst he shied away from it, but firm hands held him steady from behind, Mistress Ayesha?. As the pad approached, he realised it had a distinctly feminine smell, then realised it was a make-up pad. "she has an important day ahead" suddenly took on an awful meaning. Much as he enjoyed the feel of female clothing, he had no desire to actually BE female, nor to pass as one. Relentlessly, the make-up was applied, expertly, right up to the gloss red lipstick that tasted awful. Then came a black wig, bob-cut, a style he wished Jane would try, pinned into his own hair to keep it firmly in place. .Click, clack, Mistress Ayesha must be leaving the room.

His bonds were released and Mistress Alice bade him stand. A crisp white blouse was handed to him, a gentle lifting of the crop adding impetus to putting it on. Then a knee-length black skirt of the softest leather. A pair of high-heeled shoes, with an ankle strap, were handed to him. Unsteadily, he put them on, and Mistress Alice bent down to place a small padlock on each ankle strap buckle. Then, a short burgundy jacket, and to complete the outfit, a long black cashmere scarf, wrapped once around L's neck, covering the steel collar.

The hall door was open. Mistress Alice led L through, pointed to the small table by the front door, then returned to the Room and shut the door. L stood, bemused by the situation. No-one responded to his call. Silence. What should he do, how could he go home? Dressed like this? L went over to the table by the door, and picked up the envelope. He opened it. In beautiful italic script, handwritten, "Dear Linda, for that is who you now are, we hope you have enjoyed your stay with us. You were instructed to leave the key to your chastity belt at home. We hope you obeyed. Return there, the key will unlock all your restraints, and you will be able to become L again" His car keys were next to the envelope. He looked at himself in the full-length mrror by the front door. He saw a perfectly presentable, if slightly heavy-featured lady, well dressed...he opened the door and walked slowly to his car, quickly learning to take short strides, and listening to the click,clack of his heels on the pavement.

He reached the car, opened the door, then realised the corset, and the skirt, were going to require him to make a few adjustments to his normal movements. He turned, and lowered himself down, into the car and perched on the edge of the drivers seat. Bringing his knees together, he lifted them just enough to allow him to swing his feet, with their extended heels, into the foot-well, and closed the door with some relief. He smoothed the skirt down, rather enjoying the feel of the smooth leather, the tension on the stockings, and the cool air around his upper thighs. Automatically, he checked the rear-view mirror, seeing only the lower half of the rear window. The corset had added at least an inch to his viewing height, holding his back straight instead of its usual slouch. He adjusted the other mirrors from the control console and went to put the key in the ignition switch. Again the corset won. He leant forward carefully, feeling the busk press into the chastity belt, limiting his ability to bend, and managed to insert the key, turn it and leant back with relief as the engine started.

Cautious driving seemed to be a good idea. The skirt rode up his legs as he drove, and L was startled when a van driver, on his near-side at traffic lights tooted his horn and made a somewhat vulgar gesture. Looking down, he saw the lacy top of his stockings visible below the hem of the skirt. He hurriedly pulled the skirt hem down and drove off, a little faster than was necessary. The approach to the village in which he lived was a steady downwards slope, broad and straight, with houses either side. L had slight colour-blindness, enough to dull the bright fluorescent jacket of the policeman holding the radar gun on the far side of the road, to a probably a yellow shrub in bloom . It was only when the other policeman, on his near-side, walked out into the road and pointed to the lay-by a few yards way. Heart racing, he wound down the window. Good morning, madam, would you step out of the car, please

L went through the entry sequence in reverse, hoping that the policeman would see the black nylons and miss the two small brass padlocks on the shoe straps. This way, please, madam, gesturing to the nearby kerb. Madam, you were travelling at 38 miles per hour in a 30 limit. However, I am not going to give you a ticket for speeding, but you have committed a moving traffic offence and so I must request you take a breath test Have you been drinking alcohol in the last 24 hours? I wish, thought L, but shook his head. The policeman collected the breath test unit from the car, fitted the sample tube and told L to breathe out until told to stop. The policeman looked closely at the unit, then at the sample tube which L had closed his lips around, then even more closely at L. Thank you, Sir, no alcohol detected It is Sir, isnt it well, Sir, you will need to present your papers at the local police-station within seven days Shaking with relief, L went towards his car. Sir said the policeman, L froze....that lipstick really doesnt suit you, nice shoes, though

L drove slowly home, pulling into his drive, relieved to see that Janes car was not there. Now to get these clothes off, and release the blasted chastity belt. He hurried, as fast as his new-found skill in walking in high heels would allow, hoping none of his neighbours was watching, round the back of the house to the shed. Jane was, in fact, at home awaiting his return, Having left Lyss to finish Ls conversion to Linda, she drove home and parked in the next street. She watched, with considerable amusement, as L entered the shed, lifted down the box, and as she knew only too well, found no key. Boxes appeared briefly, tossed aside, pots moved, books flicked through, as L desperately searched for the missing key. Inevitably without success, as Jane was holding it.

A very miserable L walked towards the house, unlocked the back door and went into the kitchen. He was not expecting to see Jane, even more surprised when he saw her white blouse, black leather skirt, black nylons and high-heels.

Hi, Linda, would you like some tea?

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