Friday afternoon at last, she thought, while she turned the key, locking the door. All was set for the party, the batteries charged, she made sure that same morning. Isabela went to her bedroom to peel off her clothes. Contrary to what her companions believed, the elegant suits she used to wear at work were nothing more than a disguise. Her real self was underneath. Everyday covered neck to ankle, and keeping her private life to herself, many believed that she was made of ice. Not far in fact, but more metal than ice.
Fully naked in front of her mirror she could see her own private truth. She removed her brunette bob wig, revealing her smooth shaved head and placed it on a wooden mannequin already dressed in a skirt suit. Once a week she went to a hair salon were the owner, and already a friend, put the razor to good use.
Turning around the mirror reflected her tattoos, a big black spider in the middle of her back, and around it a huge web extending from the lower half of her neck to the upper half of her thighs. As if it were hugging her from behind the net went over her shoulders and around her sides occupying about a quarter of her frontal half. The spider occupied roughly the upper half of her back, looking towards her neck. Along its thorax and its abdomen had horizontal stripes where no ink had been applied. In the middle of its abdomen it had a stripe slightly thicker than the others, where she intented to write the name of her dom, if she ever had one. The spider symbolized the dom, and she was the prey, trapped in a web.
Inserting two fingers into her nostrils she flipped down the piercing hidden there, a curbed barbell ended in two small spheres. Aside from a preventive visit to the bathroom she wouldn't need anything more for the next two days.
She went to the lower floor and entered through the door to the basement. Upon closing the door she activated the anti-theft alarm. The upper and lower floor were going to be uninhabited the whole weekend after all. She reached the bottom of the staircase and closed the thick iron door. She had to close it every friday before six forty pm or she would be punished. The electronic lock would keep it closed until sunday at seven o'clock.
A single light bulb illuminated barely the place. The basement was about four meters wide per five long, all grey cement. In the middle there was a cage with thick metal bars all around. Inside there was a bunch of items, over a slim mattress, that Isabela had to put on her body before seven o'clock, when the light bulb would go off and the adventure would officially start. To the left there was a treadmill in a corner. To the right in another corner there was a safe that contained the electronic devices that would control everything. The key for that safe was in the backyard, in a plastic box, buried one meter deep in the ground and Isabela wasn't allowed to touch it for the time being. Aside from the food dispenser in another corner, and a toilet without a lid in yet another corner, there wasn't much more to see.
She started to get wet thinking of what was to come. Subconsciously a hand moved to her pussy, past her shaven mound, where she started to toy with the metallic barbell pierced vertically on her clit hood. She immediatelly stopped and regretted the act. A good sub's purpose is to bring pleasure, not to receive it, her personal motto.
That was in clear contradiction with the fact that she loved being in bondage. That being in bondage made her very horny. That she would love to be submissive to another person if she could find the right partner. A person, ideally a man, that would use her for his pleasure. For years she had struggled with that contradiction, that she wanted pleasure but wasn't supposed to indulge herself. If she had a partner he would decide over her pleasure, maybe rewarding her for her faithful servitude, and she would not demand more, but that wasn't the case. She was alone, and she had to sort out such an important contradiction. Until she found a way. She would allow herself to feel pleasure, but under very strict rules and paying a price. Same as if she had a master, getting a meager reward for her efforts. Like a defenseless prey trapped in a predator's web. For that reason she had been chaste along the last years, and so would remain until she found the right person.
She went to the cage to start getting ready. First of all a couple of leather straps cinched around the base of her breasts, to make them bulge, with tiny needles pressing on the skin and making things a bit more interesting. Then the thick leather corset, that would restrict her breath. Each breast cup had a group of tiny neddles that would press on her nipples, made worse by the two barbells horizontally pierced there.
Then came the chastity belt, a big chunk of heavy metal, padded on the inside, whose waist band would be closer to the navel than the waist itself. A metallic protusion on the wide crotch band would press againt her clit. It had a hole below her ass that she hoped she wasn't going to need. The electronic lock of the belt have to be activated before seven or there would be a punishment.
After that came the leather trousers, that in summer were hellish but in spring were tolerable. At the sides, from knee to ankle, zippers could be opened to let the feet pass. From the front of the crotch to the middle of the arse they had a zipper that would remain always open. Although it was designed to allow sexual activities Isabela used it to be able to use the toilet. The next element were the high heeled low boots, that weren't made for walking at all, preceded by a pair of latex socks.
The next item were a pair of latex gloves, black like the rest of not metallic elements. Then a thick leather jacket zipped up the front, with a high collar that covered all the neck. From elbow to wrist a pair of zippers matches those of the legs. Two pairs of thin electronically controlled metal bands on wrists and ankles would force Isabela to wear all the clothing elements, plus the belt, until sunday at seven pm, if all went according to plan.
It was the turn for the fun parts. First, the ankle cuffs. About eight inches of wire between then would allow only for a very short stride, as if the boots weren't trouble enough. The locks were electronic like all the others. In the middle of the wire there was a small controlling device that would be useful later. Then she added two cuffs on her wrists and two more above her biceps on her upper arms.
Then came the thick leather mask. It covered all her face and head, except for a wide hole around her mouth and two smallers ones on her nose. After closing the zipper at the back the leather pressed all around. As it didn't have holes for the eyes, she would be blind for the next two days. The zipper went down to the base of the neck. The neck part of the jacket was immediately zipped above it, covering that part of the mask.
The last steps. A wide metallic collar was locked around the neck trapping both the jacket and the mask. It had a sensor measuring any sounds Isabela might utter. Should she made any kind of noise strong enough to be heard by anybody standing close to the metal door she would be punished. From the sides of the collar hung two cables that ended in two more cuffs. Those cuffs were locked above the elbow of the opposite arm. At last the wrist cuffs came into contact with the bicep cuff of the opposite arm, where two electronically controlled clasps met their match. This last connection had to be made before seven pm, or there would be a punishment.
So there she was, locked in a basement, heavily tied by inescapable bonds, controlled by an electronic device out of her reach, being able to talk but not allowed to be heard, waiting for the sweet torture to begin. In case of an electric blackout, or the anti-theft alarm triggering, the process would be interrupted and all the locks would open. All but one, the chastity belt would remain on at least until the next Sunday at seven pm, as was supposed to happen. Having to wear it to work, to the store, everywere, for a whole week, would be a fair punishment for being a jinxed person.
Finally the hour came. At exactly seven o'clock the adventure started and the lights went off, which didn't matter because Isabela was already completely blinded by the hood. Immediately the bump in the chastity belt started to vibrate. It would vibrate for the first ten minutes of each hour. The system picked randomly a intensity level from one to ten, and would be the same intensity for the same amount of time every hour. With an intensity of nine or ten she would very likely be able to achieve an orgasm, if she were in the right mood, which she was at the moment. With seven or eight it would be possible. With five or six would be unlikely but not impossible. Below that, just no. She couldn't know the exact intensity but for the time being she guessed it was below seven. She would have to focus very hard to get to orgasm. It was going to be a rough day.
At the same hour, seven o'clock, the robot started to move. It was a flat disc with a button in the middle. Over the button it had been added an eight inch long dildo. The disc moved randomly around the cell, precisely at the same time in which Isabela was going to be teased by the vibrator, and therefor distracted. For ten minutes would wander randomly. It had a sensor to detect obstacles and walls to avoid them. In fact it was completely silent. Isabela's main task for the weekend was to find the robot, or she would be punished.
If she found it she would have to press the button, and for that she had to kneel in front of the robot and put the dildo deep into her mouth to be able to push down and press the button. If she managed to do so, the robot would stop moving and the next day the intensity of the vibrator would be two levels higher. If the intensity of the first day was nine, then the second day would be ten along eleven minutes each hour. Or twelve minutes, with an original intensity of ten. If she failed to press the button, the second day the intensity would be three levels lower. If the intensity of the first day were three, the vibrations would stop completely. If it were two, added to that, she would be punished. If it were one, punished twice.
The punishment for each failure was pain. During the first stimulation cycle of the vibrator after the failure, at any moment past the first five minutes, when she would more likely be able to get to orgasm, the pleasure would be replaced by a strong electric current, that would torture her clit for a full minute, in bursts of then seconds, with ten seconds pauses in between. Pleasure turned into two minutes of pain. As a sub, she musted obey the rules, or be punished.
To spice it a bit more, the robot had a heat detector. If it detected in close proximity a body with a temperature similar to that of an human, it would activate a timer of a minute. Isabela had that time to find the robot and press the button or it would start to move again for other five minutes, and it moved faster than the woman in all that bondage and those asshole boots.
At last, through speakers attached to the walls, started to sound the annoying soundtrack of the weekend. If the vibrator was working the sounds would be a loop of scenes of porn movies in which women under heavy bondage were being well fucked by a hard cock, strap-on, or dildo, and enjoying it immensely. Isabela would be listening to other people doing what she was being denied. With the vibrator off she would be hearing an endless loop of audiobooks about women in bondage. All prepared to help her get to cum, if the vibrator helped. Otherwise making her feel horny, frustrated and needy. Like a good sub should always feel, in her opinion.
Along the day she would have other tasks. One was spending two hours per day in the treadmill. For that she had to walk there and first of all remove the ankle cuffs. For that she had to find a device bolted to the floor just in front of the treadmill. She had to stand above it so it would make a connection with the smalled device, already between Isabela's ankles. If so, a second pair of cuffs would lock around her ankles and open the first ones. This second pair were attached to two long retractable cables that went into the device bolted to the floor. With these longer cables she could walk.
After that she had to set fot on the treadmill and walk forward until her neck met a cuff at the end of a strong metal pole horizontally sticking from the wall. Pressing forward on this cuff, it closed around her neck and then the floor of the treadill started to move forcing her to walk. The speed of the two hour walk would be easy if she weren't wearing high heels and a corset. Aside from that she was sure that the vibrator would activate twice while she was walking and because she had to keep moving she wouldn't be able to enjoy the pleasure being given. If she stopped walking to enjoy the vibrations, or to rest, or for any other reason, she would be punished. At the end of the two hours, the treadmill would suddenly stop and her neck would be freed after which she had two minutes tops to replace the ankle cuffs for the regular ones, with the short stride. As an added difficulty she could only activate the treadmill if she had previously pressed the button of the wandering robot. Meaning that on Saturday, after seven pm, therefor at the start of the second day of her adventure, she would suffer several accumulated punishments, for not finding the robot and not using the treadmill. In addition she musted remember that she couldn't gasp, groan or scream too loud, because of the collar's microphone.
The other task was nourishment. At exactly twelve minutes past eight at the morning, twelve minutes past two in the afternoon, and twelve minutes past eight at night, the machine would start to emit a beeping sound for a minute. After that she had nine minutes to find it in complete darkness and eat the meal. A weight sensor below the dog bowl could detect if it was empty, avoiding further punishments if so. Those hours have been picked because it was right after the vibrator had stopped. Either because she had cum and she was in state of bliss or because she hadn't and she probably was crying in frustration, it was the perfect moment to start beeping and make her run to the food dispenser. Perfect meaning worst.
The machine picked randomly the menu. There were three possibilities. Cold cereals with milk, warm mashed potatoes or hot soup. The quantity was meant to be not enough to make her use the toilet, but it wasn't completely precise. In all three cases the food was spiked with a flavouring substance. At night the flavour resembled randomly cum or pussy juice. The rest of the meals where piss, shit, vomit or similar things. She didn't know how it worked, but the products that simulated such flavours were completely healthy, completely disgusting, and rather expensive.
The meals were spiked yet another time. At the morning and afternoon they included a soft aphrodisiac drug of a double effect. It made her slightly more horny for a couple of hours thus helping her achieve an orgasm but also leaving her unsatisfied and wanting more. At night was even worse. A different aphrodisiac that had the same effect but much more intense lasting around half an hour. Then, after around ten minutes, when her pussy was trembling and dripping wet, the effect stopped and was replaced by a narcotic effect.
To make things worse, before nine o'clock she had to be already inside the cage and the door had to be closed to avoid punishment. Weight sensors below the cage checked if she was inside. In the middle of the drug induced excitation she had to find the cage in complete darkness and get inside. It was around a meter and a half long, and half a meter wide and tall. The door was about two thirds of the length, on top, in the middle. Isabela had to sit on the cage and maneuver herself to enter in the cage, which was in itself chalenging. Then close the door with her arms almost immobile and pinned to her back. Lately find a comfortable position to suffer the effects of the drugs and then sleep, trying to be still awake for what was likely the last chance of the day to get to cum, as the narcotic would soon affect her. Sleeping flat on her chest with her legs folded was the best option, but the needles would hurt her nipples. If she chose to sleep facing up, all her weight rested over her arms, and the next morning would be in great pain. Sleeping on her side was not the best for her neck.
In any case her pussy would be gushing and pulsating for a good while. As the effect of the aphrodisiac passed she had to wait around ten minutes focusing on the audiobook if it was a sexy scene or imagining one herself, to stay in the proper mood, and don't fall asleep yet, until the vibrator started again, to give her her much needed reward after all the challenges of the day, either at the workplace or in the basement, with the ordeal she had decreed for herself, and where she willingly had been stepping in every weekend for the last years.
Right after that stimulation cycle, all sounds would stop because it was sleeping time. Despite that the vibrator would still work along the night, possibly waking her up, but surely inciting nice dreams. The next day, at exactly six o'clock the soundtrack would start again, and the door of the cage would open. She had to be out of the cage before half past six or she would be punished, which had happen many times because she had fallen asleep. The electric current on her clit awakened her inevitably of course.
Any day, she could unearth the key, open the safe, and edit the program that controlled everything in the basement. All the rules she had set, by herself, for herself, could be changed, for the better or worse.
On Sunday at exactly seven o'clock all the locks sprung open at once. In that moment she had a decision to make.
The mannequin in her bedroom upstairs was her last opportunity. It was dressed in her work clothes, with her wig, because it represented the other part of her life. Instead of the horny and frustrated submissive of the basement, a well paid office worker. If she hadn't got an orgasm in those two days in the basement she could give herself a consolation price.
On all fours on the floor of her bedroom, she just had to move backwards and hump the leg of the mannequin. Pressing her pierced clit hood against the wooden leg, one, two, as many times as she needed, to get her much needed but possibly not deserved orgasm. That was the only form of masturbation she allowed herself.
Sadly the act went in the opposite direction of her motto. Masturbating implied that she was controling her own pleasure and giving herself what she wanted, while a sub's purpose, supposedly, was giving pleasure, not receiving it, and certainly not providing for herself. It was a moral dilemma. Each time that she had let herself succumb to temptation, she felt disappointed and sad. It feel good, of course, finally an orgasm after all that crap downstairs, but it also felt wrong. She had to decide if she were to hump her pussy like a bitch in heat, and later feel remorse, or go downstaris to prepare a proper dinner in the kitchen, as she was supposed to do on a Sunday night, like the kind of sub who obeys the fucking rules.