Warning. The following story contains Adult themes. Please do not read if you are likely to be offended by such. It is a work of fantasy and in no way do I indorse or approve of the actions and events described occurring in real life.

Before reading this, you need to read Tableau by BritslutJenny. Tableau is just about the most perfect piece of erotic microfiction you will ever find. It will take you just five minutes to read, but you should probably allow some time to rebalance your hormones afterwards. This story continues from where Tableau ends and is an alternative reality to Jenny’s own sequels.

Tableau Tean

Margot leads me up the path that runs through arches of roses and immaculately planted borders to her front door. With another agonizing tug, she pulls me through the door into the hall. She leads me past the living room, the only part of the house I have been in before, and on through the hall to a large utility room towards the rear of the house. Turning to face me, Margot smiles. But this is no friendly or amused smile. It is the most evil and frightening of smiles and it makes my blood run cold. As if to demonstrate how little effort she needs to control me, she hooks the nipple chain around just one finger and brings it up close in front of my face, pulling my breasts upwards by my tortured buds. Slowly she raises her hand higher until the awful pull becomes unbearable. I push myself up onto my tiptoes to try to ease the strain. It seems like my whole body is almost dangling from her finger. She begins to walk slowly backwards towards the centre of the room, her malevolent gaze fixed upon my face as I am forced to totter after her, trying desperately to keep myself as upright as possible. At the centre of the room she stops and lowers her hand a little, allowing me to drop back onto my heels.

“Spread your legs slut. And spread them wide.”

Margot’s voice is quiet and icy cold. The sort of voice some people have when they’re so angry that they’ve passed beyond shouting and swearing. The overly posh and rather dim, widowed neighbour I know, is now a menacing, evil and frightening Gorgon. I am helpless and frightened but I hesitate to obey her. Her command marks a boundary. She has led me here, but I have really just followed the pull on my nipples, trying to ease the pain. But now she is ordering me to do something without physical duress. To comply is to signal my submission; to confirm her power over me. I must make a stand before it’s too late. I must somehow impose MY will on her and demand my release. I look her in the eye and defiantly remain still, hoping to stare her down.

A hint of a satisfied leer creeps across Margot’s face before the speed of her response to my disobedience takes me by surprise. She flicks the hand holding my nipple chain, twisting it around her wrist and dragging my poor buds tightly to her fingers’ grasp. With her now solid hold on me, she pulls me forward and her other hand stuffs something into one of my nose tubes, blocking it off.

“We’ll come back to this little display of insolence later. But for now, are you going to do as I say or am I going to stuff your other nostril too?” she says in her quiet and totally commanding voice.

I suddenly realise just how evil my neighbour might actually be. What was I thinking to try to intimidate this woman in my helpless, bound state? I’m really scared now. Unable to breathe through my gagged mouth and with one nostril now plugged, there is no doubt in my mind that she can, and will block the other one and then watch me suffocate. My token gesture of defiance is over. Defeated, I slowly take a sideways step with each foot.

“Wider” comes the quiet and menacing command.

I take another step with each foot and now feel humiliatingly displayed, but she is still not satisfied.

“Wider.”

I move my feet even further apart until my thighs are really straining. My heart is pounding and my open nostril almost whistles as I struggle to get air into my squeezed and constricted lungs.

“Now don’t you dare move, slut.” Margot releases the chain, letting it fall. It yanks agonizingly as my nipples arrest its descent. She turns and walks over to one of the cupboards that line the walls under a black worktop, her heels clacking on the hard, tiled floor. I look over my shoulder at the door. I could make a run for it. But Margot closed the front door. How will I open it with my arms still sealed in the binder? There seems no chance of escape for now, and the attempt will surely make whatever Margot has planned for me even worse. I decide to play along and wait for a realistic opportunity to escape. And surely my husband is out there looking for me. He must surely come here soon. He will rescue me.

Margot returns from the cupboard with an assortment of what I recognise to be bondage cuffs and straps, along with a suction cup. She kneels down and uses the cup to lift one of the floor tiles near my right foot. Under the tile is a ring set into the concrete below. I immediately know what’s going to happen. A few minutes later my ankles are cuffed and tied to this ring, and to another one on the other side of me. My thighs are burning from the strain of standing with legs spread so lewdly wide.

Apparently satisfied that I am immobilised, Margot unlaces and removes my armbinder. She walks over to the worktop cupboards again, apparently unconcerned that my arms are now free. She’s right of course. My arms are so stiff after their long and severe confinement that I can hardly move them. I desperately try to stretch and flex them to get them working again. My legs are spread so wide I doubt I can reach the ankle straps, but if can get the gag off I can maybe reason with her. Or punch her lights out and then scream the roof off till someone comes.

But Margot is way ahead of me. Before I can get the stiffness from my arms, she returns with a meter long spreader rod. She takes one of my hardly responsive limbs and straps one of the rod’s wide leather cuffs tightly around my wrist. The other wrist is soon likewise fastened to the other end of the rod. I curse as the feeling starts to return to my arms just as they are once again fettered. Margot reaches above my head and pulls down a rope that hangs from a pulley set in the ceiling. I had not seen it before as it nestles between two of the heavy, old wooden beams that run across the ceiling. She ties the rope to a ring at the centre of the spreader.

Once again, I know exactly what’s coming. My husband has tied me in a standing spread-eagle many times and I have loved it on every occasion. This is different though. This is bondage for real, not play. And I’m scared, very scared as Margot, from somewhere behind me, pulls on the pulley system and my arms are raised above my head and then stretched tight. But she doesn’t stop there. The pull continues until my heels start to lift from the floor. At least the strain on my thighs is relieved a bit.

Margot now reappears in front of me and unbuckles my crotch strap. My shame and humiliation reach a new level as the vibrator slides out of my slimy sheath and falls to the floor.

“Dirty little slut.” Margot’s voice is filled with contempt. “You better make sure that butt plug stays put. If it comes out before I give permission, your arse will get such a whipping that you won’t sit down for a month.”

My heart skips a beat. How could she know about the butt plug? In fact how did she know about the coffee table? The obvious answer is too terrible to contemplate so I push it from my mind.

Margot unlaces the corset and roughly pulls it off me. The rubber is well stuck to my skin and I scream into the gag as it is ripped away. She produces a knife and cuts away my rubber stockings, pulling the shreds from under my ankle cuffs and off my feet. My humiliation is complete when she washes me down with a sponge and cold water.

“I’m going to leave you to dry off for a while, slut” she sneers quietly into my ear. “But I’ll make a deal with you before I go. If you can get free before I return then you can go home and no hard feelings from me. But if you can’t get free, well let’s just say life is going to get rather tough for you.” She pulls the bung from my nostril and crosses to the door. “Toodeloo slut. Don’t go catching a chill now.”

Margot’s “deal” is of course just a way of goading me. She and I both know that there’s no way to get free of the bindings that hold me, but I have to try. I writhe and pull for a few minutes until I’m exhausted. It’s hopeless. The cuffs are too snug and I’m stretched out too tightly to get any movement going. My whole body aches: my feet, thighs, arms and jaw especially, not to mention my throbbing nipples, still tightly clamped with the chain hanging from them. But the worst thing is the butt plug. When the crotch strap was there it was uncomfortable, bordering on painful, but like the pain in my body now, there was nothing I could do about it and it just had to be endured. Now, with the retaining strap gone, I know that given a bit of time I can push it out and be free of it, but if I do Margot has promised me a nuclear level whipping and I have no doubt she will fulfil that promise. I must hold it inside me. I must willingly participate in my own suffering and degradation. And that makes it just about unbearable.

Oh please. Where is my husband? When will he rescue me? I can’t stand much more of this.

*********************

When my husband leaves me tied up, I fill my mind with the lovely thoughts of the delicious things he will do to me when he returns. It fills me with arousal which masks the aches and pains, and passes the time till release comes, both sexual and physical. I’m not sure how long I have been half hanging, half standing here now. Twenty minutes? Forty? An hour? So hard to tell. I am trying to zone out and think of my beautiful husband, but it’s not working now. This doesn’t seem like a game and I’m too scared to become aroused. I’m sore, and cold, and miserable. I’m about to start crying when there comes a noise. A tapping sound. I look across at the dark window which until now has only shown me a reflection of the room with me trussed up in the middle of it. But through the reflection I see a face and a hand tapping the glass. I know that face in an instant. It is my gorgeous husband! He has come to rescue me! The face disappears and I hear a door open behind me. I haven’t noticed it before, but there is a second door to the room. I twist my head round to see my husband stepping in from the back garden. I am saved. My knight in shining armour is here. He crosses the room and stands in front of me, taking in the image I present.

“Well well” he says in his wonderful, gravely voice as a big smiles blossoms across his face. “Looks like Margot’s got you stretched up well and good. I like it.” He nods approvingly.

What’s this? I stare at him in disbelief. He knows about this? What the fuck? He’s in cahoots with Margot. The thought had occurred to me earlier but I had pushed it aside, too terrible to contemplate. But yet here it is. I can’t believe it. I muster up the most urgent and angry sounding “mmmmmm” that I can possibly make through my nose as I fill with anger. How dare he involve another person in our sex games! Without even consulting me! And our neighbour at that! But through the building rage I can feel something else. My fear has gone now that my husband is here and my restraints start to work their magic on me. I can feel my nipples trying to grow and harden under the clamps and my nether lips begin to swell. You bastard. You complete and utter fucking wonderful bastard. You better give it to me before you take this gag off because I’m going to give you hell when I can speak again.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that” he says mischievously. “You really must learn to speak without mumbling Alice. But first, I think you need to learn to save your breath. You’re going to need it very shortly.”

My eyes grow wide as my husband starts to undress in front of me. Oh my god, he’s going to do me right here and now! In my neighbour’s house! What if she comes back! The thought just turns me on more. I feel my heartbeat throbbing in my nipples, my sex growing wet. My husband is now naked and I stare at his beautiful, long, erect cock. He prowls around me like a panther stalking its prey. Oh yes, from behind. Take me from behind. But instead I feel him twisting the flange of my butt plug and then a gentle but persistent pull. He’s going to take me in there! Oh God! Anywhere will do. I need it so badly the slightest touch could make me cum. I push on the plug and wince as my ring is stretched wide till the thing pops out with a very unflattering noise. I steal myself, panting through my nose, for what is about to come. For his cock up my bum.

But nothing happens. He just wanders over to the cupboards and returns with something black and shiny in his hands.

“Yes, as I was saying, save your breath. Because breath is one thing you’re going to be very short of once you’re in this” he says and holds up the item in his hands. It is a heavy looking corset.

Noooooo! Enough with the foreplay! I’ve been tied up, gagged, plugged, vibrated, encased, led through the village street by my nipples, humiliated and stretched for hours now. I don’t need more bondage. I don’t need more foreplay. I need release of every kind. And I need it now!

But what I get is crushed. The corset is put on me. Even in my stretched, immobilised state I can feel how tight and rigid it is. And that’s before my husband starts to lace it. My body is confused. I often wear a corset in our sexual games and I normally love the tight embrace and constriction. But this is too much. I’m exhausted and frustrated. My body was all set for the climax of this adventure, but it has not come. Instead I am being subjected to more bondage. More restriction and pain. My body can’t work out how to respond: to continue to be aroused or to collapse in exhaustion. I try to communicate with my husband, but he is behind me and I can’t make eye contact. I can only muster some pathetic sounding, pleading moans, but they have no discernible effect. The lacing begins. My husband works up and down the rear of the corset, hauling every bit of slack away. He puts his knee against my buttocks to get more purchase on the laces and I am crushed till I feel faint.

“I know you like corsets Alice darling.” His voice sounds distant and fuzzy through my haziness. “But I don’t think you’re going to like this one much. Which is a shame really, because you’re going to be wearing it for a long time and you do look especially curvy in it.”

Before the significance of his words can sink into my befuddled brain, the hall door opens and Margot returns carrying two wine glasses, filled to the brim and fizzing away. She is naked except for a pair of high heeled sandals. She looks tall and unpleasantly skinny, with her small, forty something breasts sagging unattractively. Stripped of her fancy, flowery dresses, she looks to me thoroughly vile.

“Ah hello Honey Bunny” she croons in her usual, cultivated voice. No longer menacing or threatening, just artificial and false sounding. “I see you found our little guest. Do you like the way I fixed her for you?”

My husband gives a final yank to the corset laces and winds the considerable excess around my tortured waist before tying them off.

“Not bad” he says. “Six out of ten. She looked rather too comfy when I came in.” He comes around in front of me, his cock fully erect and standing vertically. Margot joins him, handing over one of the glasses, and they gaze at me while sipping their bubbly, as if I were some painting in a gallery. I stare back at them, hardly able to comprehend what is happening as I struggle to breathe with just the top of my chest. My breasts heave and the chain hurts.

“Only six out of ten?” Margot breaks the silence. “You’re hard. Hard but maybe fair. I think I should earn the extra four then.”

With that, she slithers down onto her knees and takes my husband’s cock in her mouth. She works her lips along it, sliding it further in, her eyes fixed upwards on my husband’s face as he looks down at her. I can see her swallow and her throat bulge as she continues until her face is pressed into his pubic hair. And there she holds. The three of us all motionless and silent. The only sounds are the fizzing of the wine and the laboured wheeze of my breathing. Time seems to stand still. An eternity passes before Margot’s body begins to heave and quiver.

“You may breathe now” my husband says flatly, with no hint of emotion.

Margot pulls back enough to clear her throat and bursts into panting, but she keeps her lips around my husband’s cock. As her breaths start to slow, he places a hand on the back of her head and guides her forward, until her face is once again pushed to his groin. He removes his hand and she explodes into action, sucking, sliding, licking, slurping in the most disgusting and wanton display of sluttery. I am desperate to look away but I can’t. I stare at this vile woman taking my husband’s cock. My cock. I hate her. I will surely kill her if I can ever get loose.

It is not long before my husband cums. His face and grunts give him away and Margot slows to capture his seed in her mouth. She swallows it all down and continues to clean his softening cock with her lips till it flops from her mouth.

“Mmmm. Yes. Four points earned and some extra credit too perhaps” my husband says lazily. Margot rises to her feet, wine glass still in hand, and brings her Medusa-like face up close to mine. She opens her mouth and blows into my face. The smell of my husband’s cum, mingled with her horrible perfume fills my nose and I retch into my gag. She wanders off behind me and my gaze moves to my husband.

“Now then Alice, let me explain what’s going to happen” he begins in a tone like he’s narrating a children’s telly programme. “Margot is the woman in my life now. I think you can see why. You’ve sucked my cock many times Alice, but never like that. Margot just goes for it. And in every way imaginable. I don’t have to fart about being lovey-dovey with her. I don’t have to tie her up gently: ‘Not too tight for you? Still breathe ok? Not going numb?’ And how long did I spend making that fucking table? Margot just gets on with it and boy, she’s good. You have no idea, sweet little Alice, what a revelation Margot has been to me. Apparently her late husband passed away from a heart attack while she was making love to him. What a way to go.” He turns away and wanders over to the cupboards. I can feel the life draining out of me. My whole world is collapsing and there’s nothing I can do except whimper through my nose and keep from passing out in the excruciating embrace of the corset.

“So I’m moving in here.” My husband continues his monologue as he rummages in a cupboard. “And I think I’m going to let our house. Oh, but don’t worry. You won’t be homeless. You’re moving in here too. You’ll be our live-in slave. You’ll do all the chores and housework and boring shit like that, but I’m sure we’ll find ways to make it all more interesting and challenging for you. Hoovering in an armbinder and things like that. And of course we’ll whip you and generally abuse you in any way we see fit. Margot has a particularly inventive and sadistic streak you know, and I think you and her will get on famously.”

I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. He’s leaving me for Margot? That’s bad enough, but he thinks I’m going be their slave? No fucking chance.

My husband returns from the cupboards, hiding something behind his back. “Now I know what you’re thinking Alice. You’re not too keen on the idea. Especially the slave bit. Am I right? You’re thinking ‘Fuck you. If you want to go off with that old tart next door then go and do it, but don’t expect me to come running after you, pleading to be your slave.’ Of course you are. But don’t worry, your wonderful ex-husband has thought of everything, and we have a couple of things to help you through this transition period of your life. And the first of them is this…. Ta Dah”

He holds up the thing he has been hiding behind him and I see the light glint off the shiny, rubber edged metal.

“It’s a chastity belt of course. Well more of a non-chastity belt really because as you can see, it has a rather large dildo attached to it. Very expensive I’ll have you know. These metal bands around the dildo are pure silver. Antibacterial you see. Means it can be inside for ages without infection setting in. And all shaped to fit over that lovely corset you’re modelling for us. Er, Margot Dear? Be a darling and do the honours would you?”

“Oh, with pleasure My Lord.” The Gorgon returns from behind me and takes the chastity belt from my husband’s outstretched hand. “How many orgasms did you have in that coffee table tonight Alice?” She pushes her dreadful face close to mine and looks me in the eye. “Nine? Ten? Twenty? I hope you enjoyed them because they were your last.” She slides down and begins fitting the belt to me. I try to struggle and thrash my hips to make it hard for her, but I am too tightly restrained to make any real difference. I can hardly feel the waistband as it goes around my corset. I look down but can only see my breasts and Margo’s hideous form below them. Meanwhile my husband continues to pontificate.

“Now once again, your ex-husband knows your thoughts dear Alice. ‘How is this chastity belt, lovely though it is, going to help me become an obedient slave slut?’”

He is interrupted by Margot. “Ooh, no butt plug here. I told you what would happen if you pushed it out without my permission, slut. I hope your arse cheeks are feeling tough.”

Oh Christ, I think. Not fair. HE took it out. And then I realise the ludicrousness of the thought. The whole fucked up situation is not fair and I’m thinking that this tiny element of trickery is the issue. Pure madness.

I struggle as Margot brings the crotch band of the chastity belt up between my thighs. I feel the tip of the dildo at my sex and am ashamed at how easily it slides inside. It is long and thick and fills me completely as she pushes it home. The crotch band comes up over my mound and with some considerable tugging, Margot connects it to the waistband. There is a click as she locks it in place.

“As I was saying, how indeed does this help you Alice? Well inside that juicy dildo are the workings of a dog’s shock collar. And it’s connected to those rather natty silver bands. I have the control here. Let me demonstrate.”

He shows me a small remote device with a dial and red button. He presses the button and a bolt of fire erupts deep inside my most intimate, sensitive place. Even in my tight restraints it causes me to jump and wrench about. It’s like a lightning bolt through my very soul. I think I pass out for a while as when my eyes open, Margot has re-joined my husband and they are staring at me like a pair of demented graffiti artists admiring their handiwork.

“Ah, you’re back. Yes, well that was number three. See here it goes all the way up to nine. I don’t think you’d like number nine very much. Now of course we won’t like using this on you, will we Margot dear? But if you’re disobedient or rebellious, well we wouldn’t have a choice would we. And then of course Margot does like to use her whips and thingies now and again, and your bottom will look very nice with some artistic stripes across it. So you see you shouldn’t have too much trouble in following our instructions very precisely, no matter how distasteful you find them.”

I try to comprehend what my husband is saying. They’ve locked me into a remote controlled punishment device? It’s made of silver so it can be worn permanently? They just need to press a button and I suffer what’s just happened? Or worse? I start to panic. No, no, this is not happening. It’s just some nightmare that I’m going to wake up from. This is not my husband here. This is his evil twin. The real one is going to break down the door and rescue me any second. The ground is about to open up and swallow this pair of demons right back to the hell they came from. The SAS will smash through the window and gun them down. Or better still, this evil witch’s head will explode and release my husband from the spell she has cast on him and we will both be returned to our loving home. Unfortunately all that actually happens to the evil witch is she is handed the roll of the patronising presenter.

“So you will be wanting to obey us very closely, although I hope you won’t manage it all the time as that wouldn’t allow me and my toys much fun at all. But you’re thinking you can just run away? Well you’re very lucky because your caring owners have thought to spare you that temptation too. In the first place, the way you’re going to be dressed, running is not going to be something you’ll take on lightly, unless maybe it’s your tears running down those pretty cheeks. That was a joke by the way. At least I think it was. But don’t laugh, slut. Don’t EVER laugh.”

Her voice is like venom to me. It enters my ears and tears at my brain. I hate her so much that it makes my skin crawl. I imagine her locked in the chastity belt, kicking and bucking while I zap her with the remote set on number nine.

“Where was I? Oh yes, part two of you not wanting to run away.” She turns to my husband. “Shall I present the exhibit My Lord?”

“Ah, but of course, pray continue Lady Margot.”

Margot’s heels clack noisily on the tiles as she struts off to the hallway door. My husband leans in close to me and speaks quietly into my ear.

“I know how submissive you are Alice, and I do hope you’re looking forward to being a real, full time slave instead of just a pretend one in the bedroom. Margo’s really quite the psychopath you know and she’ll chew you up and spit you down the loo if you don’t shape up. I’m not sure exactly where, or even if, this all fits into your little book of fantasies, but I do hope you’re going to be ‘livin’ the dream’ from now on, otherwise it could get very…well, messy.”

I try to take in my husband’s words and understand them but with the combination of the gag and the corset, along with my recent exertions, I can hardly get enough air to think straight. My head seems to be constantly spinning.

The hallway door opens and Margot returns. And the evil witch has another person in tow, literally. She is a woman of about my height and build. I can’t see her face, or any of her head as it is covered by a thick and tight looking black hood. I can make out her nose and eye sockets in the wrinkleless, black face and a large, round bulge marks the spot where her mouth would be. The hood gives way to a thick, tall collar about the woman’s neck to which a chain leash is attached. A mass of honey blonde hair spills from under the hood and over the collar. Her arms disappear sharply behind her at the shoulders, suggesting some strict restraint behind her back and she is wearing a black corset, similar or maybe identical to my own. Her waist is incredibly small and around it, over the corset is a wide, shiny, metal belt from which a chastity band descends over her mound and disappears into her crotch. I wonder if it retains the same sort of intruder that fills me. Around her thighs, the woman wears a pair of metal bands. They look tight, as they indent the flesh, and they are connected by a single link of chain. They would make walking rather difficult on their own, but the woman has the added, and more severe problem of the boots she is wearing. A pair of black, calf length ballet boots grace her feet. I have seen ballet boots on the internet and considered getting some for myself at one time, but I didn’t think I would be able to walk in them, at least not sexily, so never took the plunge. But here is a pair in the flesh and they are a stunning sight. The woman oozes sexuality and submission with every extreme curve and every flesh to black border. Despite my hazy head and frightening, painful situation, or maybe even because of them, the sight of this newcomer is having an effect on my body.

Margot tugs the chain leash and the woman totters forward. I’m not sure if it’s the boots or her blindness, or both, that makes her grip on uprightness look so tenuous. She is led slowly across the room and I see her from behind as she passes me. The hood is laced tightly down the back of her head and her arms, encased in black gloves are pulled up and crossed at the wrists between her shoulder blades. There is some kind of harness but I can’t see it clearly for her hair which cascades down her back and over her hands. The corset is laced fully closed and the chastity band runs up between her buttocks like a thong to connect with the waistband. It flares out wide and has a large hole in it over her anus. “You can wear it for ages.” The words come flooding back at the sight of the lewd opening and I can feel a similar setup over my own back passage. Am I really to be imprisoned in this permanently? Please, no.

The newcomer is led to the far side of the room and Margot turns her to “face” us. She drops the leash and returns to my husband’s side, leaving the woman swaying unsteadily on her own.

“My Lord and err, slut, I present exhibit one. Don’t worry, she can’t hear anything. She’s listening to some loud M4 traffic atmos on some earphones under that hood. You look rather confused slut. Don’t you get it? No? Well I suppose we can’t expect a slave slut like you to be very bright and work it out. I suppose I’ll have to spell it out for you.”

I don’t find Margo’s mock exasperation funny. The whole “him and her” double act is starting to really piss me off. But the sight of the new woman, and the thought that I must look rather like her in my corset and belt is working its way through my loins. I wonder what it would be like to be in her hood and heels too. I’ve been blindfolded many times, but never been in a hood like that. And as my head clears slightly, I am intrigued to know how she is going to affect my apparent upcoming life of slavery. At the moment I’m thinking that as soon as they’re backs are turned, I’m off up the road to the police and don’t see how this woman changes that.

“Well slut,” Margot continues, but now she has returned to the quiet, menacing voice she had earlier. “We will use your dildo to keep you under control, make sure you’re not temped to do anything aggressive and give you a nudge if you’re a bit reluctant. But if you misbehave, I will punish you. I will find all manner of nasty ways to punish you and I will enjoy every one of them. Twice. Because every punishment you earn will be inflicted on this innocent slave as well. You screw up, and you both suffer. And if you do something heinous, like trying run away or get help from someone, well the consequences for your fellow sufferer over there will be rather catastrophic, maybe even fatal. And you wouldn’t want that would you? Or maybe you’re a callous and selfish slut who doesn’t care what happens to some other random, anonymous slave, as you try to save yourself. Maybe she should be a little less anonymous. What do you think Mike?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea.” The man’s voice comes from behind me. Where did he come from? How long has he been there? I know the voice well. It’s Mike, my brother in law. But that would make….. No it can’t be. But it could. Her build and height and the hair. My sister, Ellen? Is she the hooded slave?

“Don’t look so shocked Alice” Mike says as we walks round to join the others in front of me. “Did Ellen never tell you how our marriage works? And I thought sisters had no secrets. Well just to keep things fair, if Ellen gives me any trouble, I’ll give Margot a call and she can tan your hide for it too. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good and fair to me” chimes in Margot, back to her false, posh lady voice.

“Well I think we need to leave our new slave alone to have a think for a while.” My husband enters the conversation. “She’s got all that fear, anger, denial, acceptance stuff to go through so I think we should leave her to get on with that. Drinky before bed anyone?”

“Ooh yes” replies Margot. “And I’ll be wanting some more of that lovely cock before morning.”

“Oh, okay. Guest room all right for you Mike?”

“Fine. I’ll just leave Ellen here. She’ll lie down on the floor eventually when her feet get too sore.”

The trio wander out of the room leaving me alone with my silent, deaf, blind, sister. “Mmmmmm” I moan but she doesn’t respond. My head continues to clear as I adjust to the corset and my breathing improves a little. I think about what has just happened and been said. Although I try to deny it, deep down I know it is all true. My husband is an adulterous pervert and my neighbour is a mad, nymphomaniac psychopath, and I am going to be their slave. My submissive nature, combined with their dreadful shock machine, the threat of punishment, and above all, my sister’s punishment will ensure that I do whatever disgusting and humiliating tasks they can dream up for me. There will be no escape or rescue. This will be my life. I look across at the erotic figure my sister makes as she struggles to remain standing in her tortuous boots and I feel my nipples harden again. I hate myself for it but I start to squirm, trying to get the dildo filling me to move and stimulate. But it doesn’t work. The dildo is just there. It is passive and won’t give me any pleasure. I am left frustrated, horny and sore. I am lost. Utterly lost.