-What is...? What...? Marmara!- Joanne was hyperventilating. What she believed was the ghost of a long ago dead possible witch had written in her mirror the words “I DO” with a finger.

-Calm down, please. There's nothing to be scared of.- The aforementioned ghost of a long ago dead possible witch tried to comfort her friend and the only person in the world that could hear and see her.

-Nothing to be....!?- Joanne stopped when she realized that she was yelling. The neighbors could be listening.- Nothing to be...?

-Joanne...- Marmara cut her before she entered in a loop.- Enough, please.- Placing her hands on Joanne's cheeks, she gave her a soft peck on her lips. For Joanne it was surprising for two reasons. First, that was their first kiss so far. Second and most important, Marmara's touch felt slightly warmer than the usual.- Would you let me explain?

-I... Yes...?- Ojiplatic and terrified she nodded.

-I can control your body.- She raised a hand before Joanne started to yell again.- I can do it when you are awake, but I'm not sure it would be a good idea, because you would be aware of everything. Maybe you'd kick me out, or we'd fight, or so. I don't know.- Joanne kept nodding not knowing what else to do.- My point is, that I believe I can give you what you want. This self-imprisonment game you've been playing, I can make it a bit more real. But only if you want to play.

-I...

-For starters, I want you to buy a safe box. Yes?

Joanne closed the door and leaned against the wall, resting for a bit. She had been doing extra hours lately. She had nobody to blame but herself. A couple of months earlier she went to a pub with her colleagues, and got a bit drunk. A guy started to flirt with her and she. by accident. blurted out that she was in a bdsm-ish relationship with a woman, no less. The rumor spread through the university and her boss found out. Since then she had been working very hard to regain his respect.

On the other hand there were more pleasant consequences. She started to wear her leather collar in public. Partially covered, perhaps, but visible, nonetheless. She also started to dress differently. Long thick skirts down to her ankles and medium heels were something. See-through pale blouses were much better. Not by themselves, but because she used to wear a bodice either above or below them, but always quite visible. Very appreciated by his male co-workers, despite the unfair assumption of her being gay. It didn't matter, the access to her pussy was beyond her control anyways.

-I'm here, my lady.- Joanne announced her arrival. Marmara passed through a wall and Joanne did a curtsey.

-You're late.- Marmara offered her hand. Joanne pretended to kiss its back. Marmara could feel it but for Joanne is was just fresh air, that somehow was a bit warmer than the first time they touched.

-Sorry, ma'am, a lot of work.

-Of course.- With a wave of her hand, Marmara indicated Joanne to go do whatever she had to do before going to bed.

In fact it was all an act. A ritual just for fun. Marmara knew more or less where Joanne had been. She could fly and pass through walls, so she could find her anywhere. She couldn't match the speed of Joanne's car though. Marmara used spend several hours a day wandering around the city, exploring. Tourism. Maybe sniffing around some strangers' conversation. Often watching movies for free in a theater. From time to time she went to the university, but Joanne was rarely alone and they couldn't talk much. Still, they talked every morning, and Joanne told her what was she going to do along the day. Marmara had nothing to say about that, as they had agreed, Joanne was only hers at nights.

Joanne disrobed and slipped into her fleece nightgown. It was itchy and hot in summer but she loved it. Or rather, the idea of it. She still had to prepare dinner and do a couple more tasks before going to her unorthodox bedroom.

At night, once everything was settled and she had watched a bit of TV, while explaining to Marmara all the things she didn't understand about modern life and modern fiction, she went to her dungeon.

A year had passed since Marmara had made her proposal of upgrading the game. In that time more and more expensive contraptions had been bought. Such as a wooden pillory where Joanne had to kneel, her legs trapped at her back and hands in front. There was also an iron and wood cage about one meter square per half a meter tall, where she couldn't stretch in any direction. Screwed to a wall there was a wide iron cuff for her neck. Also screwed to the wall, almost at floor level there were a pair of handcuffs. So she had to sleep sitting on the hard floor with her neck and hands pinned to the wall. There was also a table adorned to look like a rack, with its ropes and a big wheel, but without the mechanism, so in fact it was just a table. For being mostly wood and iron it had been quite expensive stuff.

In all the cases she closed the padlocks herself using the trick of the weighing scales and glass of water. Along the year two big changes had been introduced, though. First and foremost, Marmara got to decide what contraption and for how long would Joanne use every day. Second, very often she fell asleep tied to one contraption, to wake up tied to another and see that more time had been added. Meaning that Marmara had taken control of her body, freed her and locked her again in a different fashion. It was unsettling, yes, but it was also very hot. Being manhandled like that, without her knowledge. Vulnerable. Defenseless. Sexy.

When Marmara told her the numeric code her stomach clenched. The first weeks the strategy was simple, she just had to obey every order and Marmara would let her open the safe box on Sunday night, retrieve the key to her chastity belt and masturbate if she wanted. Also clean the belt. After that she had the opportunity to get rid of the belt forever and end the game, or lock herself in again and put the key back in the safe. That same night, Marmara would take control of her body again and change the code until the next Sunday. Her orders were easy, as they were always regarding self-bondage and only inside her house. Just a game, where being free of the belt for one hour a week was the winning prize.

There was a problem though. Joanne wanted to recreate Marmara's real life experiences but in a much less strict and unhealthy environment. Just a game. But a part of the fantasy was far beyond the reach of an ethereal female ghost: rape. Months passed until Marmara found a solution. Instead of an hour of freedom per week, it would be the opposite, forced masturbation. Wandering around the city, sneaking in adult stores, she found out a proper way.

The last, and most expensive, contraption was sort of a low bench, upholstered in latex. Near its base there were eight metal cuffs. Two for Joanne's wrists, two for her elbows, two for her knees and the last two for her ankles. On one end there was a dildo shaped protusion pointing to the ceiling, on the other a second and bigger dildo, but horizontaly, and attached to an electronic device, with a keyboard and a screen. Joanne had never touched that keyboard, nor seen the information displayed on the screen. Not while being awake, that's it.

She hesitated a bit but ended up doing what she was told, as usual. She opened the safe and unlocked the belt. Then she positioned herself on the bench. First she lifted the hem of her nightgown and slipped the big dildo in her pussy, for which she had to lay on the bench. Then she closed the cuffs around her ankles and above her knees, so her shins were touching the floor. After that she locked another cuff around her left wrist and above her left elbow, her forearm touching the floor too. Fitting the right wrist was quite difficult, but the elbow was impossible, so she just didn't.

Marmara had programmed it to work randomly, for which she needed to read and re-read the user manual several times. Joanne put the shorter dildo in her mouth. She had to apply enough pressure downwards for the sensor to notice it, either with her tongue or the back of her throat, along a full minute. With this done, the cuffs closed in place and the cycle started.

The point of the machine was faing a rape. There were three possibilities. 33% chance of five minutes in which the dildo would ram either too fast, too deep or both, 11% each. This option wouldn't be enjoyable at all and most certainly painful. Another option was 33% chance of fifteen minutes with the dildo going either too, slow, not deep enough, or both. Depending on Joanne's level of arousal this option might be irritating, boring or just uncomfortable. Impossible to reach an orgasm either way. The third possibility, was a sequence carefully designed, through trial an error, to give her at least an orgasm. as long as she were more or less in the mood. Possibly even two.

That would happen if the machine was to be used once a week. Using it outside of the appointed time-table, would alter the chances to a 33% pain, 43% boredom, 23% orgasm. Using the machine a third time in the same week would be 38-48-13. 43-53-3 for the fourth.

The motor started. It was a pace she knew well, second setting, fifteen minutes of blandness. No orgasm today. Of course once free she was not obligued to fit the chastity belt again. She would lose Marmara's not entirely voluntary collaboration, but she could still play alone.

Marmara had guessed that Joanne would grow tired of that system pretty soon, it actually was intended to be unpleasant, but she didn't. Even if she had spent hours and days in pain, and entire months without an orgasm, that was exactly was she wanted. Her fantasy. While she was strapped to that machine she pictured in her head those soldiers, the ones that had raped Marmara centuries ago. And not only them. She played in her head all kind of fantasies and distresses. It wasn't ideal, of course, but it worked. A prisoner, in a dungeon, being raped. Even better, because there was an unnatural entity involved.

-Marmara...- Since she knew that her pleasure that day was a lost cause she could chat without bigger concern.- Could you be..., more strict?

-You are not serious...- Marmara caressed her temple.

-Like..., making me wear chains at home or..., not at home...?

-You are horny, you are not thinking clearly.

-You are right.- Completely right.- But that's how I met you. And because of me you are free now, so...

-Wait, wait...- Marmara was shocked.- Is this emotional blackmail?- She still didn't understand many modern habits, but that one seemed specially rare.

-Yeah...?- She wasn't 100% sure.- Yeah!- She made up her mind.

-Ooooh...- Marmara would have slapped her forehead if she could.