I came over in part because a friend of mine had offered to let me use his place while he was away. Never having been to London before, I jumped at the opportunity. I would have weeks and weeks of time to myself to experience the UK.
I didn’t even fully make it through my first bloody day.
My friend’s place was close enough that downtown was just a short tube ride away, and I decided to dump my stuff off and go exploring. I took my notebook with me, thinking to maybe try to do some writing or sketching in Trafalgar square.
The tube ride itself was relatively uneventful, but packed. I made it down, and up out into the sunshine again with little difficulty though. Some sort of festival appeared to be going on, or at least being prepared for. Lots of milling crowds, with performance areas getting set up.
I remember wandering around for a while, before settling down outside a nearby pub to try my hand at sketching the square while having a pint or two. I remember enjoying that time. Frittering away my time as I worked diligently on the sketch, until the deepening twilight prevented easy drawing.
I remember deciding to go on one last walk, and maybe try to find a little park or something and feed some ducks. As one was meant to do when visiting Britain.
I remember sauntering away from the square, and down some side streets in a bid to find a suitable spot in the deepening gloom.
To this moment I still have no idea what it is that I actually saw. Not that I’ve been given, ever, a chance to explain that. As I came around a corner, towards what I thought was the waterfront, there was a truck with some boxes partially loaded into it. It was almost entirely blocking the alley, so I stopped short for just a moment. I glanced down at my phone to check for directions, preparing to backtrack. As I turned out of the corner of my eye there were some figures standing off to the side. I barely registered them at the time. Which was a mistake.
A muttered curse was all the warning I had before a massive blow to the side of my head sent me spinning down onto the pavement.
“Fucksakes!” I groaned, clutching at my head with both hands. But my hands never had a chance to do more than brush my head. There were already other, rougher, hands on me. Yanking my arms behind me and ratcheting a thick ziptie around my wrists.
I remember the last thing I saw that night was a guttering streetlight. Maybe half a block away. I could see people out there, moving about their business. Carefree and happy. I tried to muster a scream, but as it gurgled up my throat a chloroform soaked rag was clamped over my mouth. And I was gone.
That was…a while ago.
I remember coming back. Eventually. Swimming up out of the drug induced haze to find that my situation had gotten worse. My head was pounding, both from the blow to it and the rag. I rapidly discovered that I had been restrained to a chair. Zipties held my arms tightly to both sides, and my legs cinched tight as well at the ankles and knees. Two leather straps ran across my chest. Tape was plastered across my mouth, though I could feel some sort of rag inside it. I couldn’t see at all, and eventually enough feeling returned to my face to feel the leather of the blindfold over my eyes. I struggled against my bonds, naturally enough. Put enough effort and time in that I was heaving wheezing breaths through my gag by the end, certain that I could not get out. And that was when I became aware of…her.
Her breathing was the first thing I knew about her. That was all I could hear, once the blood stopped pounding in my ears. The steady in and out of someone else standing near me. Watching me. Not a hint of excitement, fear, anger…anything. Utterly controlled.
Then, a soft touch traced my jawline. I jerked back with a fearful whimper, and tried to twist away. But the grip followed me, and held me. I gave a bleat of frustrated fear.
Then the blindfold came off, and light streamed in. Blinding me for just a moment after so long in the dark. With my eyes adjusted I could see the person in front of me. A woman. Average, though muscular build, in tight fitting leather pants and jacket, and her dark brown hair swept up in a ponytail. Her features had a distinctly elegant Eastern European look to them. Her dark brown eyes were cold as they looked at me, and she wore a most unpleasant looking smile.
That was my first day meeting Elena. Mistress Elena as I had to call her. Apparently I had stumbled over some vital extra-legal business her father was involved with. His goons had all been for disappearing me, and had in fact been in the process of doing that, when she had intervened. She was so bored in England, having to keep out of sight. Not being able to go out to certain clubs and find…playmates. So she convinced her father to let her keep me. At least until they were done with whatever it was they were doing in the country. As she took no small amount of pleasure in telling me. Virtually a daily reminder. I was on probation. Even now, my sentence only temporarily suspended to relieve Elena’s boredom.
That first day, as I sat there, with my eyes bugged out and screaming into my gag, she made me choose. She slapped me quiet, the blows almost clinical, and then stood calmly in front of me, that unpleasant smile fixed in place. In one hand, wrapped around it, was a leather collar. In her other, a syringe was cradled. She placed both of them on a small table that she then positioned in front of my chair.
I looked at her, and then at the table. I felt myself start to shake a little, and if anything her smile grew wider. She swept around from the table to stand behind me, leaning on my shoulders, her head pressed into the side of my own. I had felt her breath heating my ear as she asked softly,
“So which shall it be, poor little tourist boy? Submission, the collar, and life? Or defiance, the needle, and death?”
I keened into my gag, shaking in earnest now. She just gripped the back of my neck, a sickly sweet tone entering her voice,
“Choose.”
Trembling I had squeaked into my gag, jerking my head desperately towards the collar. She gave a chuckle and roughly gave my head a push around before coming back around in front.
“Thought so. Bitch.”
And that was the start of my life as Mistress Elena’s plaything. She was the only human I would see, kept in her dungeon as I was. Her dungeon was where she spent at least half of her time. I did manage to piece together that she was certainly involved in whatever shadowy business was going on. But her father had ordered her kept inside wherever the hell this place was. Which she bitched about enough, even in front of me when I wasn’t in an isolation hood, that I picked up a bit.
Protecting her from the competition or some such damn thing. So her father had provided her with quite a nice wing in whatever facility he had acquired. Something to make up for the fact that Elena couldn’t go out all that often. A substantive part of that wing had been converted to align with her more kinky tastes. And she took out her frustration on me.
I took up perhaps four or five hours of her time on an average day. Though some days, her days off, were when I was really put through my paces. I tried for the first while to keep my head. To try to figure a way out of this nightmare, to escape my bonds and free myself from her exacting, all consuming control.
But nothing was ever left undone, unlocked, or unstrapped. After the first two weeks, I gave up my nightly escape attempts, and just tried to find elusive rest. I needed it during the day.
I was rapidly acquainted with her particular fetish for rubber and leather. On my second day I was dressed in the first of what would be many outfits, though this one was always and ever her favourite. A deep purple rubber catsuit that firmly enclosed me from neck to ankle to wrist. Matching boots and bondage mittens which kept me teetering around if I was able to walk, with useless lumps for hands. And finally two different hoods depending on her mood. My active hood had eye and mouth openings and, though I was often gagged, at least let me see. The other was my new isolation hood which kept me blind, deaf, and dumb to the world for as long as she might want me that way. It was always fitted to me overnight, and would occasionally make an appearance if I had displeased her. Or if she wanted to make a point. Or if she wanted to fuck with me. A litany of reasons, really.
The outfits she gave me dictated the sort day I was going to have with Elena. Sometimes I would be her maid, other times a cute rubber pet like a puppy or kitty. Still other times I would be her patient, and she my kinky nurse. Most often I was to be her bound object that she could tie, and re-tie, and position, and tie yet again. All of those days I bore with varying degrees of enjoyment and resentment.
It was the days without outfits that I feared. Dreaded. The days when I was stripped without any clothing set out for me to put on. Those days were punishment days. It was enough for me to see a lack of clothing after being stripped to fall to my knees and beg for it. Anything. I would accept her bondage, her control, whatever she wanted me dressed in I would agree. And Elena would laugh, reveling in my abasement. Once or twice she even played along, like she was considering relenting. But she never did. Those days left me battered and beaten down, all thoughts driven from me, as my vindictive mistress set about thrashing me senseless. I would awaken afterwards, redressed in my rubber, bizarrely thankful for its tight protective embrace.
Regardless of the day, regardless of the uniform, I always ended up strapped to The Chair.
This unholy monstrosity was how I ended every day, and sometimes how I started them too if she failed to remember me, or deliberately left me in its embrace. It was a hulking structure, with dozens of leather straps that kept me pinned to it. My arms fasted down and stretched out from my body, my legs spread wide. The seat had a wide opening, allowing her to set up her preferred anal training toys, or to attach whatever implements were required to let me spend hours and hours in The Chair. If it pleased her she had a milking machine to drain me while I was strapped in, or alternatively implements to carry away waste so that I could be left for a day or more. My Chair time was almost always spent in complete sensory deprivation, with every one of my senses deadened and removed, save that of feeling.
And feel I did. The Chair is what broke me to her control in the beginning. She kept me on it for days. Milking me, torturing me, pleasuring me occasionally, all while her voice whispered into my ears, searing my brain with her promises, her threats, her fantasies. I held out for as long as I could, but in the end I was a wreck. Elena took special delight in periodically reviewing all the depravities she had visited on me, and forced me to thank her and grovel before her in my gratitude for each act of barbarity.
That was my life. My only human contact a sadistic woman who never failed to remind me that she owned me. Had reduced me to an eager to please, pathetic slave. And that at any point, if I acted out, if I no longer wanted to be her slave, hell if she got bored with me…the needle waited.
She was the only human being I saw. My only living contact. Until the new girl arrived.
I was strapped into the chair, as usual. Low vibrations in my rear, and the slow working of the milking machine had kept me on edge for a few hours. My ragged panting was interrupted by the door banging open and the sounds of several people entering. And judging by the cursing and grunting, at least one of them didn’t want to be there. I wasn’t wearing my full isolation hood, it had been a good day, so I could tell that whoever didn’t want to be there was female from the tone of her grunts. Her opponents were male, probably the same goons who had initially brought me here. After a more prolonged fight than I thought would be possible, they clearly got her fixed where they wanted and restrained. A few comments were made, not that I could hear their content, followed by rough laughter. Then they left.
Left her there. I could tell someone was there from the breathing, ragged but still relatively controlled. Only a few minutes passed and the door opened again. A firm click-clack of heels. It’s Elena. I know her footsteps by now, even through my hood.
She enters and gloats “Well, the snooping bitch has finally been caught.”
My blindfold is flicked off and I can see the girl in front of me. A bag over her head, rapidly in and out from frantic breathing. Rope binds her hands and chest, with her feet tied as well. She has the same dark brown tresses as Elena, from the strands of it coming through the bag.
Elena strutted into view from behind me, dressed in fetish attire, and seated herself on the girl’s lap. She reached up and slowly tugged the bag off the girl’s head, revealing her face. Pale blue eyes wide with fright, a dusting of freckles along the bridge of a cute nose. Mouth wide over a ballgag. My initial impression of her as I stared at the first person apart from Elena I had seen in a year. As I stared at her, and she stared at me, I wondered what she thought of me. What did she think of the completely bound and rubber encased boy in front of her? Wonder about who I was, or might have been? How I came to be here? Or was she simply looking at the fetish attire and wondering what would be done with her?
“Yes, snooping around and then deciding to play the heroine, hmmm…?” Elena’s voice was soft. Sensual almost. I moaned, and would have shivered in fear had I not been held so tightly. I knew that tone. Knew it. Loathed it. Feared it.
“I wonder,” Elena traced her fingers along the girl’s jaw, drawing a frightened moan from her, “Did you ever conceive in that dull mind of yours what I have done? I confess, I am rather surprised anyone was still looking for him at this point. He disappeared with hardly a ripple and it’s taken you this long to start making inquiries?” Elena tapped her chin thoughtfully, that sinister smile of hers beginning to widen her lips, “Doesn’t make much sense to me. But then,” She cupped the girl’s chin, “You’ll have a chance to explain it to me.” I stared at both of them. She couldn’t be talking about me, could she? Elena had told me, over and over. Delighted in how it had made me sob in the early days. That no one was looking for me. And even if they were, they would never find me. I stayed quiet, locked in my own spiraling thoughts as I watched.
The girl whimpered and tried to twist away, and Elena laughed. She delivered a slap, and then backhanded the girl sharply, “Well my dear, I am nothing if not generous. I am prepared to offer you a choice over your future.”
She slowly stood from the girl’s lap, and stalked around behind her, letting one hand trail along the girl’s shoulders. Elena stood behind her captive and gripped her shoulders, bending down to rest her head with her mouth near the girl’s ear, “I’ll give you the same choices that my bitch was confronted with all those many months ago. In fact, I do believe his enslavement birthday is coming up.”
I moaned into my gag, the words driving a spike through me like nothing else had in this short conversation. Months? I had been missing for months? For almost a bloody year?? I could feel myself on the verge of losing control, and I desperately clung to the shreds of it that remained. The continued vibrations of the milking device, and the dildo up my rear, oddly helped. Those were my normal now. And…and…Mistress Elena liked to fuck with me. With everyone. Could it, surely…surely she was just doing it to mess with me. I couldn’t…not months…God….
Elena ran her tongue along the girl’s ear, getting a disgusted growl from her and grinning that feral smile of hers. She held a collar in front of the girl, unfurled and ready, “The same deal. Accept my collar, submit to me and all my desires, and you get to live. You’ll be my bondage bitch, forever restrained here and trained to service me. But you’ll live. Defy me…” She grinned again, this time with a dangerous glint in her eyes, “…And you’ll go right back over to Father’s men for eventual disposal. They do like to have their own fun too and really, once they are through, it’s a kindness…”
I could see tears well up in the girl’s eyes at that. She looked towards me as though imagining herself totally wrapped up in rubber, bound to this bastard chair, and trained by Elena. She looked back at Elena, who was smiling down at her with the same smile she had once confronted me with, all that time ago. She squeezed her eyes shut and then nodded at the collar.
Elena’s smile widened in triumph. I closed my eyes for a moment. She always won. I had never even once managed to resist her to exhaustion, in all my time here. She strapped the collar around the girl’s neck tightly, taking pleasure in locking it on and feeling her jump in her bonds. She reached forward and kneaded the girl’s breasts with both hands, kissing and biting along her neck. Nibbling at her ear, “I’ve already got so many delicious plans for you my dear. But for now, I’ll leave you to take in my bitch’s predicament. I have to go order your custom rubber suit. Gotta make it perfect, since you’ll be wearing it the rest of your pathetic life my sweet little slut. Once I’ve returned, we will commence your training.”
She came back to me, “I’ll leave your blindfold off for now bitch. I want you to drink her in while I’m gone. She’s your replacement.”
I looked at her and whimpered in fear.
Elena smirked, and stroked my bound form, “I’ve certainly enjoyed having you here bitch, but I prefer to play one on one. And we have had a great deal of fun, you and I.”
I was shaking now, as much as I could in the chair, and moaning into my gag. No. Please no. She couldn’t mean…
“You have nothing to be ashamed over. You lasted far longer than even I thought you would. Honestly, if this slut hadn’t come poking around about you I would probably still have played with you for another year. Maybe more. You are a nicely broken in toy now.” She cupped my hooded chin and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. Gentle. From Elena. I was so fucked.
“Don’t you fret though.” She picked up the control pod for the chair and made a couple of adjustments. I groaned loudly into my gag, temporarily halting my muffled sobs, as the dildo in my rear and the milking machine both increased in tempo and vibration, “There. Now you’ll get some quality pleasure time before I return. And we’ll have one last play session together before you’re finished with me.”
I was keening into my gag as she smiled down at me once more and left. Her machines were wrenching pleasure from me at the very moment that all I wanted to do was scream and wail in terror. This was it. All this torture, all of the degrading humiliations at her hands. And I was done. I was to be…to be…disposed of, like some unwanted toy. I moaned into my gag, squeezing my eyes shut as tears leaked from them. I…I couldn’t…I just…
But the machines didn’t care. They didn’t care at all as they drove me onwards towards the orgasm that I had been teased with all morning. I screamed as I came, some unknown mixture of pleasure and terror echoing through the room. I slumped into my bonds, feeling my body continue to be rocked methodically by Mistress Elena’s devices. I stared forward dully, watching with little interest as the girl in front of me squirmed and struggled in her bonds.
I knew better than to fight any of this. I had been here longer than any of her captives. Elena’s bonds were inescapable. Her threats were always carried through. I felt hot tears running down the inside of my hood, and I took in deep shuddering breaths. This was it. I was done. It had all been for nothing.
Then, just out of the corner of my lowered gaze something flicked. I looked up, only mildly interested in watching the person who would soon become Elena’s newest plaything. My eyes went wide as I saw her chest ropes. Her loose chest ropes. Even as I watched they slid down to pool around her lap. She was struggling now with her wrist ropes, and I found myself watching with rapt fascination. The scared, crying girl from before was gone. Gone like she had never been. The girl, the woman, had a determined look that spoke of concentration, confidence, and clarity of purpose. She was getting out of here, come what may. I gulped into my gag watching her, a squeak coming from deep within my chest as after a few more minutes of struggling one hand triumphantly shot free from behind her back. I was transfixed. She rapidly undid her ankles and then ripped her gag off with a grunt of discomfort.
I was beside myself, nearly vibrating in the chair as I tried to shake my bonds. I moaned pitifully at her, the sudden prospect of escape making me almost shrill. I was scared. Terrified that Elena would come back before this woman could free me. She would free me, wouldn’t she? She wouldn’t just leave me here!? As I got increasingly more frantic she stepped across and jammed a hand against my mouth, gripping my chin and holding my head firmly. She looked me dead in the eye, even as the machines continued their remorseless stimulation of my rear and cock, “Stop!”
Her voice was a low throaty growl of command. Elena’s conditioning kicked in at the sound of a female voice and I instantly grew still, a faint sob my only contribution. My eyes, wide and wet, begged her for release. She met them, her own softening a little at the sheer terror that I was evidently showing, and her voice was a little more understanding as she continued, “I need you to keep quiet. Do that, help me out, and I’ll get you out of here. Alright?”
I nodded as quickly as my restrictive position allowed me to do. My chest felt tight, and darkness narrowed my vision as the Chair’s machines continued to work their mechanical will on my body. Escape? Was that really…I couldn’t bear to think about anything beyond being free from the Chair. Such hopes had been ruthlessly expunged over the course of my long captivity.
While I ruminated the woman was moving. She gathered up most of her discarded bindings and tossed them aside, palming something from a nearby table I couldn’t see, before quickly making her way over to stand near the door. It was not a moment too soon. About a minute after she positioned herself, the door opened, and Elena returned. My tormentor’s eyes fixed on me, and then as she entered the room, found the chair. The empty chair. Her eyes went wide and she began to pivot, but she was too slow.
The woman pounced, wrapping a strong arm across Elena’s chest, another over her mouth, while her free foot kicked the door shut with a resounding bang. Elena was snarling, spitting mad and struggling hard against the woman’s grip. I let out a terrified whimper as I watched, wanting to root for my potential saviour, but too scared of what would happen if Elena won anyway. I watched as the struggling began to slow. As Elena’s cursing began to stretch and quiet down. As, amazingly, incredibly, Elena was beaten. Down onto the floor, unconscious from her own chloroform.
“MMMMMPPPHHH!!!!” I couldn’t help the manic shriek that burst from my gagged lips as I watched the woman cuff Elena’s hands and ankles together, before pacing over to me. I squirmed hard against my restraints, frantic to be freed, and my rescuer had to pause several times to calm me down in my wild flailing. She shut off my mechanical tormentors, and eased me up and off of them. Out of the Chair. I was out of the Chair, and Elena was in bondage. I shuddered as my battered mind tried to grapple with the implications.
I couldn’t hope. To hope was to be vulnerable. But…I wanted to. There I stood, still dressed in my fetish gear, still collared, gagged, and bondage mittened. But…far more free than I had ever been before. It was terrifying. Exhilarating, but like the moment just before a rollercoaster drop.
The woman stroked my forehead for a moment, clearly catching a glimmer of my thoughts. Her voice was gentle, and from the accent she was clearly a local, “She really did a number on you, didn’t she?”
I couldn’t respond to that, even if I had been ungagged. The woman placed a hand behind my head, and looked into my eyes, clearly trying to be a bit reassuring, “Listen love, I have a plan to get us out of here, but you need to trust me alright?”
I made a tiny squeak, and gave a very slight nod. She smiled encouragingly, “Good.” She reached over to the table that was next to the Chair, and brought my attention to a set of shackles, “I need to lock you into these.”
I gave a snort of fear and tried to break away from her right then and there. A strong arm caught me as I tried to run, and slammed me back into her in a tight embrace, “Whoa! Whoa! Think it through honey. There’s no way I can get you out of all that fetish gear. The people here are used to you being in your slave outfit and restraints. Let’s not let them think anything is amiss, hmm?”
I still couldn’t give her an answer. My brain wasn’t used to being given choices and decisions. I just stood there, watching as the woman shackled my wrists and ankles, linking each set to a waist belt that she wrapped around my middle. She snapped a leash to my collar, but then left me standing otherwise free as she turned back to Elena.
“Let’s give this bitch a taste of her own medicine, hmm?”
A brief half hour later, my rescuer, who I now knew as Madeline, had finished her work of vengeance. Elena had been stripped out of her domineering outfit, and placed into the rubber slave suit that she had brought for Madeline. She had also been strapped into the Chair in my place, with suitable vibrating intruders filling her lower holes, and a dildo machine primed and ready with the rubber phallus held securely half out of her mouth. Two minutes after the last lock was buckled shut, Elena’s eyes fluttered open, and then snapped wide. And then the muffled cursing began.
“Now then Mistress Elena,” Madeline ran her hands over the enraged domme, gloating as the bound woman shrieked at her, “I’ve got you rigged up just how you were going to do me I suppose. In fact, there’s a preset submission program already loaded up for the Chair, so I think we’ll just flip that on…”
She flicked at the control panel for the Chair, and almost instantly the dildo at mouth level and the one below the chair simultaneously began thrusting. Elena groaned and then gave a muffled shriek as she was zapped. Madeline smirked, and slapped Elena’s breast, “Those electrodes aren’t so fun on the other side are they? I guess you better start doing what the program wants, hmm?”
Elena snarled as she began to bob her head up and down on the dildo in her mouth, not for a moment ceasing her struggles against the restraints holding her in place. Madeline watched her for a moment before hooking my leash to a small bolt nearby, “Now, stay put love. I need to get changed.” I trembled with fear and anticipation, watching Elena with a sort of horrified fascination as my tormentor was forced to suck as I had been. Though her eyes remained fixed on me, and burned with rage. Her muffled mumbling as she sucked had a definite tone. If I was caught again by her, she would make me pay for this. But despite the threats, despite the terror Elena still inspired in me, I couldn’t help but stare as the Chair worked her over.
Thankfully, Madeline returned soon enough, dressed in some of Elena’s finest fetish attire, with the addition of a stylish thin rubber hood that elegantly hid her features without appearing to be meant for a slave. She pressed herself to me briefly, almost as an after thought of reassurance, before turning to Elena, “Well, I do hate to run when I’ve only just made your acquaintance bitch, but I think this lovely boy of yours needs a break. And I’d hate to interrupt the training program you’ve set for yourself.”
Gargled cursing was the only response to this. If anything Elena’s fuming hatred seemed to redouble. Getting caught again would be lethal for Madeline and I, after a prolonged torture session I was sure. I shuddered, and felt fear gibbering loose from my chest. It was only with effort that I strangled the scream that wanted to cut loose.
“As for what I came for,” Madeline continued, “I think I’ll be just fine. I can pass for you at a distance, and your daddy’s men wouldn’t think to interrupt you for hours yet. We’ll be long gone by that time.” She stepped close and pressed an unyielding finger into Elena’s rubber covered chest, “Don’t come looking for us.” Elena didn’t flinch, the only movement between the two of them her continued bobbing on the dildo.
Eventually Madeline turned away with a shake of her head, and grabbed my leash, “Time for an escape from this Evil Lair.” She forced a giggle, I think mostly for my benefit, and pulled me gently towards the door, “Let’s go home, hmm?”
I stumbled along behind her, still hardly daring to think this was happening. We were going to be caught. My mind reeled with all the ways this insanity could still go wrong. A not small part of my mind screamed for me to pull away from this woman, to put myself into a cage, or somewhere where Elena would understand that it wasn’t my idea. That I was still her good boy. Her bitch. Her captive. But a small sliver of who I had been was beginning to claw towards the surface, from underneath the layers and layers of slave conditioning. Not a lot, not anything capable of doing much.
Except hope. I could hope again.