“Tell to me the truth, Nothing,” Ileana said.
While the human had been courteous upon her arrival to refresh the sedgeling weeds and attend to the woman’s needs, she had said very little and a slow, but constant, drip of tears kept slipping from her eyes.
“I’m… Forgive me, Goddess…,” Nothing said. “But I am really afraid of you right now.”
“Why?”
“Why?!” she asked, her brow seemed to crease with anger for a second. “Last time you were here you were trying to kill me.”
Ileana snorted half a laugh. “There is no try. Either I kill you or I do not kill you. And, last time, I did not kill you.”
“See? That does not make me feel any more secure,” the human woman said. “I was talking about love and you just became so angry. I don’t understand you. I don’t know what might make you angry like that and hurt me. I need to… I mean, I want to… I want to love you. You are my Goddess. But, I need to understand how to love you…”
“Why would I want the love of a human?” Ileana asked.
The human began to sob a bit more, but Ileana did not pay attention. She was overwhelmed suddenly by a memory… So many years ago… Rusalka… Was Rusalka not human once too? She looked at the human woman - pinned down by her chains in the box deep in the dirt. She was beautiful, but she would never be… never as beautiful…
“Your talk of love made me angry at first,” Ileana said. “Condescending to me that you knew about love. But in the end it made me only laugh. You know very little about love. You are delusional. You are a complete fool.”
The human continued to cry softly and after a few minutes whispered. “Maybe it takes a complete fool to ever learn anything about love…”
“But did you hear what you said?” Ileana asked placing a hand against the human’s cheek, using her thumb to push a tear away. “You said that you think that a Princess is in love with you. But you are a slave. A slave. You are a thing to her. Not a human. You are less than human. It is not her fault. It is what she has been taught from the first time she screamed and had a wet nurse’s boob shoved in her mouth. Slaves are tools to a Princess. Nothing more. Never anything more. Never.”
Nothing stared into the darkness. Ileana watched her eyes shift from side to side for a few seconds, perhaps searching for a response - perhaps finding the truth of her folly. Still, her tears slipped from her eyes.
“I am sorry that you are just a stupid and delusional little thing, Nothing. It does not matter though. Regardless, all humans end up where you are lying now. In a grave. Smart, stupid, loved, or not. You can not help who or what you are, slut.”
The human woman began to shake her head back and forth slowly - her mouth twisting as though she were trying to say something. There was the silent shuffle of metal links of chain and the scraping of her collar pulled to the extent of its meager limits.
“Chains will limit the experience of the slave whether she wears them or not,” Ileana whispered and she kissed the human woman’s temple feeling the wetness of the human woman’s tears - tasting the salt. Ileana licked her lips for a moment where the taste lingered. “You are tired now. I will nurse you to sleep. Maybe some time in the future I will allow you to tell me about all your great loves.”
The woman nodded her head but remained quiet. Ileana slid into position, gently cupping Nothing’s face and turning it toward her, pressing her nipple to the woman’s mouth.
Ileana let her thoughts swirl in the eddies of the darkness until they slipped from the confines of the grave and into a dim light, a calm pool of water, a naked woman wading up to her waist, her hair wet and dripping down her torso. Ileana reached out for her lover’s hand...
Nothing released suction on Ileana’s nipple. Ileana was about to pull away, but the woman made a small noise as though she were not done. She felt the woman’s lips press against her breast again, but only barely, and opened wider. Tickling further out around Ileana’s areola. A soft puff of warm air passed over Ileana’s nipple followed by the light brush of the woman’s tongue, swirling gently up and around. The lips fell away and a cooler breeze slipped across Ileana moist flesh. A tightening of constriction pulsed through her nipple and the spark of it somehow ended up down below in her sex. Ileana exhaled slowly noticing too late, that she moaned licentiously at the same time.
The slut seemed to have some talent.
Ileana thought to pull away, now that Nothing had had a bit of fun. She pulled her knee up, letting the bottom of her foot slide softly up the slave woman’s pinioned right inner thigh. She pushed her crotch a little more tightly against her slave’s hip. Then she realized that she had not moved her breast at all, instead Nothing continued to address her receptive flesh, using her lips to pull and gently nip. Ileana ground her crotch against the slave’s hip again. This time with a little more fervor until she noticed that Nothing’s hip was wet and slick.
Ileana let out another moan. A purposeful moan. An intentional moan. A sound that invited and encouraged. She let her mind wander back to the woman in the pool who had a sad smile and gave the slightest nod. Yes. Just the slightest nod.
0 - 0 - 4 - 22:18 - Aife
The Dungeon Gear Emporium was housed in a large, well lit warehouse located a block from the main shopping district of Cowen. There were too many people shopping and the shelves were too high for Aife to feel comfortable.
“...nipple clamps… corsets… waist cinches… chastity belts…” Zeigh was reading labels posted on each aisle as they walked.
“I think that we are going in the wrong direction,” Aife said.
“... strap-on harnesses… thigh cuffs… What is this? ThighGap Thigh Chains by CelestialSecrets… Ouch! That looks painful!” Zeigh turned to look at Aife and, suddenly alarmed, realized she could not find her for a second. Aife had started off in the opposite direction pausing slightly to look around each set of shelves she came to before moving on. Zeigh quickly jogged to catch up, pushing the handle of her leash into Aife’s hand. Aife looked down at the handle briefly but continued on.
“... nipple clamps… yokes… collars…”
“Up around this corner,” Aife said. “Gags. Holy sh...”
Aife stopped, dropping Zeigh’s leash. The row with gags was long and the variety was making Aife’s head swim. There were a number of patrons in the aisle each of which Aife spent a moment examining. “I don’t think that I can do this…”
Zeigh picked up the end of her leash and pushed the handle back into Aife’s hand. “These are ball gags along here. What you were describing earlier is probably a little further down the aisle. Ball… bit… butterfly… cleave...”
They walked to another juncture with an open area with products laid out for display. Aife heard the sound of something collapsing on the ground and turned quickly with her arms raised to block whatever… It was just Zeigh though. She had dropped to her hands and knees.
“Meow!” Zeigh said a little too loudly for Aife’s preference.
“What are you… Zeigh! Don’t flip up your robes like that! You’re not wearing any undergarments! Zeigh! What are you doing?”
“Meow!” Zeigh said nodding her head emphatically towards her left. “Meow, meow!” She seemed to be pointing with her head.
Aife looked but didn’t see anything strange. Zeigh huffed and turned, meowed loudly and indicated that Aife should follow her, then crawled through a gap in the aisle.
“Uggghh!” Aife groaned and followed. “What are you doing?”
“Shhh! Not so loud,” Zeigh whispered. “It’s Mary. She’s really mean.”
“Mary?” Aife bent to look back around the aisle. “Who’s Mary?”
“She’s standing there. All in gray,” Zeigh whispered and she, too, cautiously looked around the end of the aisle. “Meow!” She back pedalled around the shelves squatting and beginning to shake.
“Wait!” Aife said straightening up. “Are you talking about… Zeigh, that’s a statue.”
“No! Oh, no! It’s Mary!” Zeigh said backing further down the aisle. “Please… Don’t let her see me.”
Aife grabbed Zeigh’s leash and began to pull her back around the corner of the aisle. “We need to go this way to get to the gags. Come on, Zeigh! There’s no Mary here. It’s just a statue of a woman. Apparently you can rent them to decorate your house or something.”
Zeigh dug in still on her hands and knees. “No! Please. She hates me. She promised that every time she sees me, I had better be on my hands and knees acting like a little pussy. That’s what she called me. Little pussy. She said that I better act like one… Or she would hurt me really badly… I think that she has some magical skills because… well… just don’t let her grab you.”
“She’s not going to… No one is going to grab you, Zeigh. There is no Mary. There is no she. It’s made of stone. It can’t move.”
“No! It’s her. It looks exactly like her!” Zeigh said still resisting Aife’s gentle pull on her leash. “She was older. I haven’t seen her in a couple of years. They retired her. She was no longer a viable product. She must be like… 41 years old or so… So, they released her, I guess. Put her out to pasture… Still… It’s definitely her!”
“It’s not anyone, Zeigh. It’s stone. It’s a very well done, detailed statue. But, still it’s just a statue. Maybe the artist used this Mary friend of yours as a model.” Aife turned back to Zeigh and began to pull her a little harder.
“No, no!” Zeigh sobbed. “Please… Meow! Meow!”
Suddenly, Aife noticed a movement behind her. Something coming toward her - directly at her.
Aife’s thoughts: What kind of weapons do I have available?... There is some kind of ovoid metal head case called a USD on the shelf around here… looks heavy… I drank some water just before entering the building… Can’t really use Zeigh’s leash chain when she’s crouched on the floor… Fists!… Turn quickly…
Aife dropped Zeigh’s leash and spun around. Her right fist held up by her face - her left by her waist. Her legs were spread slightly beyond shoulder width - right foot forward, turned inward slightly. She was ready to throw a punch.
“Oh! Oh!” An older man in a long purple robe stood before her. He stepped back when he noticed Aife’s stance, but then looked down at Zeigh meowing on the floor. “Um… Are you here to make a purchase? Er… for your pet?”
Aife unclenched her fists and stood taller. “She’s not my pet.” She stared at the man for a second then bent down to pick up Zeigh’s leash again. “Get up, please, Zeigh.”
“Meow!”
“OK. Do you have money? Are you here to buy something? Loitering is not allowed,” the man said.
“I have credit,” Aife said starting to become irritated.
“Oh, good,” the man said. “May I inquire with whom?”
“Does it matter?... Whatever… It’s through the castle,” Aife said.
“Through the castle? Mmm hmm,” the man said. “Well, then, can I help you find something?”
“I need a gag for… uh… for this one,” Aife said pointing at Zeigh. “Something that she can wear comfortably while running…”
“And you’re looking for a bit gag, perhaps?” the man asked indicating a display a short distance up the aisle from where they were currently standing.
“I’m hoping to find something more discreet.”
“You are afraid that she may cause a scene...” the man stared down at Zeigh who was desperately trying to keep Aife’s legs between her and the statue. “... if she were to wear a bit gag?”
“I don’t want to buy her a bit gag,” Aife said with a growing edge to her voice.
“OK. Well… Let’s look down the aisle and see what else we may have available.”
As they began to walk, Zeigh crawled along doing her best to shield herself behind Aife from the statue, meowing every once in a while.
“You know, we also have several bonesmiths that schedule appointments through the Emporium. They could improve your pet’s gait with a bit of manipulation of her femurs.”
“She’s not my pet!”
0 - 0 - 5 - 00:46 - Seth
“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Please stand for Judge Sherwin and Holy Mother Divinica.”
Seth stood with the rest of the men in the courtroom of the Wheeler Township - a small community set in the coastal swamplands forty clicks west of Joppa. The room held an audience of about thirty people. The Judge and a robed religious woman entered from a back door and found their seats on a raised platform. The Judge’s desk was large and reigned over room. The Holy Mother’s chair set a little lower to the side.
“Please be seated,” the Judge said in a deep resounding voice. “We have agreed upon a sentence for the disgraced priestess Vatica, former Holy Mother of Joppa. This sentence will be delivered in two parts. The first shall be the sentence set forth by the State of Joppa for crimes against a contract. The second will be added on top of the State’s sentence by the Church as repayment to damages incurred by the Church for the disgraced priestess’s blasphemy.”
Seth looked over to the tight confines of the barred cage where Vatica stood. Her hood was pulled over her head, but it did nothing to hide the wide panel gag that covered the lower half of her face, nor the tired eyes that stared without focus or emotion. She stood in the small space with her hands bagged in tight leather and chained closely around her waist. Another chain descended from her wrists to a short hobble stretching between her ankles. The configuration of chains, which left the hem of her robes pulled up slightly, exposed her dirty bare feet. Vatica had taken quite a fall from her lofty perch as supreme leader of the women’s Church - her replacement, Divinica, now sat, smirking on the stage preparing to finish her predecessor.
“The State proclaims that Vatica is sentenced to life in prison with no chance for parole,” the Judge stated. “And now, Priestess Divinica…”
Divinica stood from her chair and walked towards the barred cell where the disgraced priestess stood. “The Church has chosen to take Vatica as our ward for the duration of her sentence.” She then turned to the audience. “Having been found to harbor a confirmed lesbian couple, Vatica committed a crime against the Church. One of the lesbians was her own niece, Maisie of the House of Lynn who is currently in custody along with her accomplice, the subhuman female-like degenerate daughter of the Piper family.”
A door opened and two men carried a table into the room, setting it to the side of the judge’s desk on the dais. The table had leather straps pounded into the heavy wooden frame, strategically located to secure an unwilling participant. A woman with frog-like features followed, dressed in doctor’s attire, carrying a leather case which she set on the table.
“Her own family!” Divinica continued pointing at Vatica. “She could have saved her niece by simply reporting her activities to state officials who would have compassionately submitted the young lesbian to a proper regime of behavioral mending. Instead she let the deviant woman continue to reside and commune with the broken girl, Piper. She let evil into not only her own house, but into the house of the Church! Endangering us all with this ungodly disease!”
Divinica paused and looked about the room. She nodded to the doctor who then opened the leather case and began pulling out tools - a set of silicone-tipped pincers, a pair of large handled shears, several roles of gauze.
“Luckily, the Church, too, is compassionate,” Divinica continued. “We will not let one of our own simply deteriorate in some anonymous dungeon room. No matter how far she strayed from the path, Vatica still belongs to us. And so, the Church has decided to render Vatica anchorheld, here in Wheeler at the new church!”
The crowd seemed confused. Finally some brave soul yelled, “Anchorheld? What is that?”
Divinica smiled. “A room for her has already been constructed on the north side of the church. Vatica will be stripped naked and secured by five points to a plinth which will keep her an arms length from any outlet. The the room will be sealed with concrete and steel - constructed around her plinth so that no opening into the room is greater than the circumference of her own skull. And so, there, she shall pay her penance until she passes on into the arms of our compassionate God.”
A small wave of murmurs swept through the crowd. There seemed to be some concern.
“Do not worry citizens of Wheeler. It shall be left to Vatica’s family to deliver food and remove her wastes from the anchorhold… er... should they choose. And do not worry about the menace of Vatica’s words. Indeed, immediately following this sentencing, her tongue will be cut from her head and delivered to the Holy Father in Joppa as a payment for her sins!”
Sensing blood, the crowd began to shout their satisfaction with these terms.
“And when, however long God allows, Vatica passes on into the everlife, the remaining openings of the anchorhold shall be permanently and forever sealed. This is the sentence as decreed by the Church and our God!”
There was much clapping and shouts of satisfaction.
“The condemned will spend tonight in a cell recovering from her upcoming surgery. Tomorrow she will be chained into the room and her health attended to, though in three day’s time all attendants will be withdrawn from her space. A grid of metal bars will be set across the openings of the room and sealed into place with concrete. It should all be well-dried by the time Princess Markeza of Cowen makes her way into town on her trip to Joppa to meet her new fiance, Prince Jansen. We’ve sent word that this will be an opportunity for her to give her first public statements in the field outside Vatica’s new, permanent residence!”
There was another cheer.
“Now,” Divinica continued. “Let me introduce Dr. Norost, who is here today to perform the required oral surgery.” She then turned to where Vatica stood, now with eyes closed. “Bring forth the condemned!”
The crowd jumped to their feet and began to volley for a better place to view the impending gore. Seth held back though. He observed a tall thin man with a baby face that appeared to have never touched the sharp side of a razor quietly slip out a side door. Seth’s target. Seth turned from the stage and threaded his way through the crowd.
“Skylar Overstreet!” he yelled once he made his way outside. The man - Skylar - was already a half block away. He turned at the sound of his name. Seth began to walk toward him.
“How can I help you?” Skylar called back looking somewhat pensive. Seth noted the tone of his voice, seemingly not fully changed by adolescence - the dance of his full lips on a more-narrow face, the pretty high brows.
“I’d just like to ask you some questions about your work at the Wheeler Weekly… Some articles you wrote about…”
Something triggered the young journalist’s concern for safety and he suddenly turned and began running down the street and around the next corner.
Seth smirked and began chase - at first, no more than a jog, slowly accelerating. What a fool this Skylar was! To think that he could run from Seth - could run from a real man. Skylar was an impersonator - a woman made up to look like a man - something, quite, against the law.
Seth rounded the corner and was somewhat stunned by the progress that Skylar had made down the road. Seth accelerated a little more, reaching under his coat for the coiled bullwhip he carried there. Skylar cut across the street, through a residential yard and towards the forest, jumping a barbed wire fence with some grace.
“You’re just making things worse for yourself, woman!” Seth yelled.
Seth leapt the fence and barreled into the thicket, occasionally catching a flash of color deeper in the woods, following the crunch of dead leaves and broken limbs. Finally, he broke into a small clearing and looked around trying to determine which way his quarry ran.
He heard a rustle to his left and turned to look. There leaning against a tree was a young woman with ebony skin. She wore a white dress, hardly more than an oversized shirt that barely hung on one shoulder and the fabric was so thin it was almost translucent. Seth could see the shadow of her dark areolas underneath.
Seth should have considered her sudden appearance strange, here in the middle of the woods, but his thoughts instead centered around Big Johnson, his pet name for his own penis.
A second rustle to his right signalled the arrival of a second petite woman - yellowish of skin and petite nose, similarly attired. Her hair was askew and she regarded Seth from the tops of angled, foreign eyes. The tip of her tongue slipped from her mouth and traced along her upper lip.
A third woman, her white dress drooping so much that her small breast slipped into view, the skin creamy, her nipples, small and light, puckered pink. She was casually pulling long red locks of hair over her shoulder, utterly unconcerned with her exposure.
“I’m looking for a… a man,” Seth grunted out a single sarcastic laugh. “He ran through this way.”
A fourth woman stepped around a tree into view, her skin as pale as her hair was black. Her hand was sliding up between her thighs, pressing into the crease.
“Perhaps one of you saw him,” Seth continued. He let his bullwhip uncoil. Big Johnson did as well.
A branch snapped directly behind Seth and he spun around, starting to raise his weaponed hand. Skylar was too close for a bullwhip though. He was already on top of him. His mouth opened much further than humanly possible - his jaw unhinged somehow. He had two long narrow fangs which stuck down and out from his upper jaw. His eyes turned a mottled yellow - the pupils, just a narrow vertical slit.
With a resounding thump, the teeth sank into Seth’s chest, pushing him to the ground. He began to use his arms to push himself to a sitting position, but already his left side was beginning to fail him and he slumped over.
Seth tried to say something cruel, but it only came out in a lazy slur. Seth collapsed onto the soft mossy forest floor. He looked up with growing concern at Skylar, who wavered above him, blood dripping from his fangs. “You… bitc…”
Skylar slipped out of his vision and for a moment, Seth stared up through the yellowing leaves into a sky, so deeply blue. What was that poem that his mother used to recite to him?
Four faces entered his vision, the sultry women dressed in white. He felt their hands sliding like the scales of fat snakes up along his limbs. One by one the faces sank towards him and he began to feel the prick of needle thin spikes gashing his skin, though the pain was muted as though only a dream.
“Oh, yes,” he thought. “Mother’s poem…
“Ashen coal, burning ember, jewel of the moon light.
Ebony ties, twist from smoke. Slip quietly into the night.”
0 - 0 - 5 - 02:26 - Aife
Aife was sitting at the table repairing a bit of leather padding that had ripped along the seams in the crotch of a pair of leggings. Silence! The ability to concentrate!
Zeigh walked into the room. She reached up to her mouth and with a bit of fumbling, pulled a black rubbery item from between her lips. A string of drool spilled onto her robe and she unceremoniously wiped her chin with her sleeve.
“And another cool thing that we saw there were those Nesting Cages by Onkana. Can you even imagine how well you would sleep locked inside a cage inside a cage inside a cage inside a cage inside a...? How many was that? I lost count.”
“Zeigh!” Aife replied as gently as possible. “You are supposed to leave the gag in your mouth to see how it feels. To give yourself a break from talking. For a little peace.”
“Oh yeah!” Zeigh replied. “Of course, it’s just that I thought of those cages and wanted to say something about them before I forgot. Or actually, I thought of something else first which caused me to want to take out the gag so I could pass the information on to you, but then as I was taking out the gag, I thought of the cages and so I started talking about those…”
“So, the first thing that you thought about… Was it important?” Aife asked.
“Oh, yes, I was thinking about how a couple of days ago you said that clouds are made of tiny droplets of water and I’m just really, really having a hard time believing that. I mean, just this afternoon, we saw the wind blowing down the street and it kicked up a cloud of dust. They key thing being dust, not water. If I were to throw a cup-full of water up in the air on a windy day it would come splattering down into the dirt, but if it was a cup-full of dust it would rise high into the air carried along by the wind. I don’t know why someone would be trying to drink a cup full of dust outside on a windy day, or really, in any setting…”
Aife sighed and looked down at the gag that Zeigh held in her hand. It was black and was similar to mouth pieces used by warriors in close combat to avoid having teeth knocked out. There were slots in both the top and bottom which had been form fitted for Zeigh’s teeth to fit in. There was a wide, thin panel that would fit comfortably between her teeth and lips. The two teeth guards were mounted together in such a way that a bit of space was left between her jaws when she fully bit down on the gag. There was a slick, flat tube designed to hold the wearer’s tongue at the bottom of the mouth. The tube ended in an open slot near the wearer’s bottom teeth so that when it was properly installed, Aife could see the tip of Zeigh’s tongue. No amount of thrusting by the tongue could push the gag from the wearer’s mouth. A open slot, just above the tongue allowed the wearer to breathe heavily in the event that they were subjected to extended physical activity.
“...because it is really difficult to drink dust if your mouth is already dry, kind of like trying to whistle while eating crackers, which if there was any moisture in your mouth at all would also cause the resulting crumbs to spray out across the ground and not magically rise up into the sky which is to say, clouds are likely not made of cracker crumbs unless the crumbs first become dust. And another thing that really dries out your mouth is a sponge…”
The gag was designed so that it could be locked in the wearer’s mouth if the wearer had a series of piercings. The gag included a special pin that could be threaded through a smiley piercing, down through the tip of the tongue and then further, out of the mouth through a labret piercing beneath the lower lip where a small decorative, but secure locking mechanism could be fastened.
“... my mouth was so dry that there would be no way for me to whistle with all those sponges packed in there, of course with the panel locked on, whistling only crossed my mind once or twice probably over the course of two days. I was really hungry after a while, but I could still get water luckily by submerging my head in this pot of liquid that I found and letting the sponges soak whatever it was into my mouth…”
“Zeigh! Remember that you asked for this gag. It’s not a punishment and I promise I won’t make you wear it for two days straight. The idea of the gag is to relieve you from the necessity of talking all the time,” Aife said.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about this gag,” Zeigh said, holding it up. “I can put it back in. Here… See?” Zeigh shoved the gag into her mouth but she kept on talking which resulted in little more than humming.
“OK, good. You don’t have to talk now. Try to leave it there,” Aife said gently stroking Zeigh’s hair, trying to calm her down. “Better? Alright, uou just relax. I’m going to try and finish mending these pants.”
Zeigh suddenly starting mumbling into her gag again and eventually reached up to her mouth, “Mmmwuh… never have worn pants before in my life, I don’t think…”
“Zeigh!” Aife threw the pants down on the table. “Come here! Put your gag back in!”
Zeigh quickly walked over. “Oh, yeah. Sorry!” She shoved the gag back into her mouth.
Aife grabbed that handle of her slave leash and pulled her through the loft and into a tall narrow room with a thick mat on the floor. Two long, silk fabrics hung from the ceiling three stories up. Their ends puddled on the floor.
“Sit!” Aife said pointing to the mat by the fabrics. “Hands behind you! Cross your wrists!”
Zeigh dropped down on her butt and Aife stepped behind her. She gathered up the ends of the fabrics and began to wrap them securely around Zeigh’s wrists, tying them off in a manner that would make it extremely difficult for Zeigh to escape. “Now stay and be quiet!”
Zeigh had stopped mumbling and sat motionless staring up at Aife with big round eyes. She didn’t look sad or scared though. It was more of a look of mesmerization. Aife sighed. “Are you going to be OK?”
“Mmm-hmm!” Zeigh nodded enthusiastically.
“I’ll be… I’ll be… um... sewing…” Aife quickly turned and stepped to the door of the room where she stopped briefly, but then walked on. She was suddenly feeling guilty about a buzz she felt inside her. Something manifested by the exercise of power over Zeigh. Something that settled somewhere lower than her stomach - lower than her abdomen.
Ten minutes later, Aife had finished mending the pants, and she hadn’t heard a single sound from Zeigh. She stood up, then sat down again. Listening. Standing up again.
“Fuck!” Aife mumbledoaced around the room. “I should be doing all kinds of shit. Exercising, surveilling the Metal Nomad encampment, planning a trip to Joppa…” Aife paused for a moment. “But instead… now, I’m talking to myself. Fuck!”
Eventually, Aife spent some time sharpening a dagger that she carried in her boot.
After another half hour or so of silence, Aife walked quietly back into the shaft room. Zeigh was asleep on the mat with her hands still bound securely behind her back. Her legs were tucked up to her chest which rose and fell at a slow pace. Aife could see the black rubber of the gag between her parted lips - a small string of drool dangling from the air slot as Zeigh comfortably breathed in and out. She looked so relaxed, that she almost seemed boneless.
Aife smiled and slipped back out to go cook some dinner. Something special tonight...
0 - 0 - 5 - 07:22 - Maisie
Maisie had not had the option to use her eyes for quite some time. There had been five meals and one sleep period - a day and a half perhaps. Her modified hood with open gaps had kept her from sweating so much, but it had allowed her handlers to loosen only the chin guard in order to feed and water her. The blindfold and the ear cups had been kept in place at all times.
She became concerned at night when her handlers came to water her. She screamed Piper’s name hoping to hear her voice however muffled it may be by the ear cups. There was no response. At each watering she tried again with no luck. She cursed the Dirt Room girls who handled her and even struggled a little as they pushed her back into the swinging cage. They were always able to keep her well restrained.
During the day, her chin guard was dropped so they could squeeze the mushy crap that passed as food into her mouth. She tried to ask about Piper, but the only answer that she received was “toy moved”. Maisie was not certain that the Dirt Room Girl could string together any longer sentence.
They had forced her to exercise on the climbing machine and the moving floor for multiple extended periods of time. Her legs and arms were sore, but her stomach was full. She felt like she was gaining muscle mass. She felt stronger.
At least two Dirt Room Girls walked her through the complex. They had applied wide metal cuffs to her wrists that fit quite tightly and chained her hands behind her back. Two more cuffs had been locked around her ankles and a chain there restricted her gait to something less than optimal for normal walking.
They passed through a series of barriers. They would pause and Maisie could hear the muffled sound of metal rollers. Then they would walk forward and pause again as the sound repeated followed by a loud metallic bang.
Finally, they seemed to reach their destination. Maisie felt something being pressed into her back - something being attached to the structure of the skintight outfit in which she had been dressed. She was then pushed backwards against an array of metal bars, perhaps some kind of cell wall. Her wrist chain was pulled a bit higher and attached to something on in the bars. Next she felt the padlocks lining her leather hood being released.
“Follow all instructions,” one of the Dirt Room Girls said in her right ear.
“Or toy burns,” a second voice announced on her left.
Her handlers let her go and she tested her restraints. She was locked to the wall with her hands behind her it seemed. She had hardly any freedom at all.
There was a crash of metal followed by a loud popping sound and Maisie felt her wrists drop from her restraints. She brought them in front of her and rolled her sore shoulders for a moment before reaching up to the back of her hood. She quickly found the flexible cables used to pull the hood closed and began unlacing them. With a healthy sigh she pulled the hood off her head and carefully threaded the slender chain attached to the tip of her tongue through the grommet.
The hood was attached by a snap to the neck of her skin suit which prevented the hood from dropping to the end of her tongue chain. She wouldn’t have to constantly hold the hood. Carrying things with the tip of one’s tongue would be quite burdensome!
The room she found herself in was brightly lit and quite spartan. The floor, walls, and ceiling were flat gray cement. Maisie stood next to the barred entrance to the room. Beyond the bars was only a small space no deeper or wider than an arm’s length. Opposite the cell door was a windowless, solid steel plate. She assumed that it was the entrance through which she had been escorted.
The chain that had been used to restrain Maisie’s wrists hung from a locked hook on the cell door. Unfortunately, her hobble chain had not been removed. Her final restraint was some sort of flexible cable that attached to her skin suit in the small of her back. The other end disappeared into a hole in the wall. Maisie pulled at the cable and, with just a little resistance, a bit more cable fed out from within the wall allowing her to step into the room.
To the right of the cell door, there was a toilet and bidet. Beyond that there was some sort of spicket that would allow her to drink water and perhaps wash a little. Otherwise the only other fixture in the room was a large wide bed that was set into the wall opposite the cell door.
The mattress was set upon a shelf of concrete. The gray walls were flush against the head and foot of the bed as well, and the ceiling dipped down to allow about an arm and a half’s worth of space above the mattress. There was no far wall. Instead, there seemed to be another room accessible by crawling over the mattress.
Maisie looked through the space over the bed… Piper! She stood in the room on the other side of the bed, apparently restrained just as Maisie had been before her wrists unlocked. Maisie pulled the cable attached to her back and started to climb over the bed. “Piper!”
As soon as Maisie pressed her hand on the bed there was a flashing green light and a beeping sound. “Piper! Are you OK?”
Piper remained standing next to a barred, cell door that looked identical to Maisie’s. She was mostly naked. Her hands were tucked behind her back in such a way that Maisie assumed they were restrained. Some sort of material, perhaps similar to Maisie’s skin suit, was wrapped tightly around Piper’s chest, though there were openings for each breast. Narrow straps crossed Piper’s breasts - a single one vertically and another horizontally. They narrowed into shiney pins as they arrived at Piper’s nipples and instead of going over her flesh, the pins seemed to go through, piercing her lover’s nipples. Piper’s lower face was enclosed in a panel gag and some sort of ribbon hung from her left ear - all black except for a single word in large, white block letters, “TOY”.
“Piper?”
Piper remained perfectly still except her eyes that flicked back and forth between Maisie and something over the bed where Maisie could not see - the source of the flashing green light.
Maisie jumped up on the bed and crawled across. Just as her hand reached the far side though, there was a thump behind her and Maisie jerked to a stop. Her cable had apparently extended to the limit of its range. Still, Maisie reached a hand out towards Piper.
There was a popping sound, and Piper’s hands dropped from behind her back. She was wearing wide cuffs identical to Maisie’s. She quickly moved towards the bed. Apparently, she was leashed in a similar manner to Maisie. She could see the cable pay out of the wall. It was attached to the strap around Piper’s chest. Maisie could see Piper’s breasts compact into her ribs as she made her way towards the bed.
“Oh, Holy Mother, Piper!” Maisie cried as she pulled Piper in for a hug.
Piper hugged back briefly, but then reached under her long brunette tresses, at first trying to manipulate something behind her neck, then pointing and turning for Maisie to see. Piper’s panel gag was simply buckled in place, and Maisie quickly undid the latch. The panel fell away and a huge wet plug slipped out from between Piper’s lips.
As soon as Piper was free from the gag she grabbed Maisie in a hug and pressed her lips to first one side of Maisie’s mouth, then the other, trying to kiss around the chain dangling from between Maisie’s lips, humming wildly.
“I love you too,” Maisie said between kisses. She reached up and touched her bald head for a second, tears starting to drip from her eyes. “They pierced a ring through my tongue. But, it looks like you got it worse!” She held Piper at arm’s length and looked closely at the straps across Piper’s breasts. Indeed, Piper’s nipples had each been pierced twice, with the vertical tunnel passing a little higher through the flesh than the horizontal. She could see no means to remove the pins.
Next she turned Piper’s head to look at the ribbon hanging from her ear. Upon closer inspection Maisie saw that something had been shoved into Piper’s ear canal. The outer end filled the ear shell and had been anchored with a number of grommets stapled through Piper’s flesh. Maisie cursed, but decided to bottle her anger at what had been done to her lover for the moment.
She looked closely at the ribbon. “TOY”. Maisie remembered now what the Dirt Room Girls had said, “Follow all instructions or toy burns.”