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Isabel, part 6 - free bondage story.
The strange room was dark. An ominous psychedelic jam swirled in the air made smoky by candles and cigarettes.
Completely naked, strapped tightly to a wooden frame shaped like an X, and gagged with a rubber ball the size of a grapefruit, Isabel could do little more than wish herself away from the inevitable.
Her heart raced when she caught a glimpse of her attacker in the shadows.
The person turned and held up something glowing.
"You will be mine forever."
The branding iron danced in front of Isabel's eyes.
It dropped and hovered just over her hairless pussy.
Isabel screamed when she saw the face of her attacker.
It was her.
She woke up with a start and flew into a sitting position. A dream...it was only a...
Jesus Christ. She shivered as the sweat on her body cooled rapidly in the still air.
Pulling a blanket around her, Isabel tried to gather her thoughts while the remains of her nightmare dissipated slowly into her subconsciousness.
She was in a bedroom. The light was dim. Must be sunset.
She stood up and fumbled her way along the wall until she finally found a light switch.
The bed. A chair. Two doors.
Something hanging from one of them gleamed.
And below it stood a pair of strange-looking boots.
Visions from her nightmare flashed behind her eyes. Then she remembered...Ron.
Isabel was suddenly aware of her nakedness, and a burning desire for a shower.
Half an hour later, she felt almost perky. Although her groin ached from the day before, she had found her own makeup kit on the sink, so she happily dolled herself up after a thorough soak and shave.
A tray with a plate of food was waiting on the already-made bed. But she didn't know what to make of the bottle of talcum powder.
It wasn't until she closed the bathroom door that she saw the dress up close.
This isn't latex, she decided after taking it off its hanger. This is rubber with a capital R.
From the front, it looked like an ordinary strapless dress, albeit with a very high hem line. But there was nothing in the back except four wide strips of rubber. And she almost didn't see the two zippers across the chest until she had to roll it up so she could squirm it over her arms and head.
The talcum powder helped, but it still was a struggle.
"Asshole bought the wrong size," she muttered as she tugged it over her hips and down her thighs.
She reached around and pulled the lowest strap under her ass, which caused her cheeks to bulge up alarmingly.
"Oh, my," she yelped as she looked down at the rubber armor surrounding her body like paint.
She caught sight of the boots.
"Yum," she said tonelessly.
Very Victorian, she decided as she examined one. Laces starting around the toes. Flaps up to mid-calf. And how did he expect her to even stand, much less walk, in those preposterous heels?
Isabel sighed. Another night at the opera.
She sat down on the chair and started working her feet into the supple leather.
"Might as well do it right," she said as she knotted the lacing between each set of eyelets.
When she stood up, only the tips of her toes touched the ground. She found she could manage tiny steps, but not much more. Almost like a ballerina, she decided. A very demented one, though...
"Are you ready?" a voice asked from behind the door.
A jolt of fear burst through her mouth and she couldn't help yelping like a teenager.
"I'll take that as a yes," Ron said as the door swung open.
Although he was obviously trying to be British, Isabel couldn't help thinking he looked like, well, a preppie. The thought made her smile, which in turn caused Ron to look at her quizzically.
"Well, I'm glad to see you're enjoying yourself. I wasn't sure how pleased you would be to see me tonight. In fact, I've been wondering what's made you stay at all."
Now it was Isabel's turn to look at him funny.
"I mean, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine you'd let me take you quite this far."
Isabel didn't quite know what to say. Then it came to her.
"I've never gone to so much trouble to get laid in my life."
Ron laughed. "I hope I'm worth it."
"I'm beginning to wonder."
"Will you settle for now for more trouble? He held up two long leather sleeves.
Isabel rolled her eyes.
"Oh, I suppose," she cooed as she batted her eyes.
"Good girl. Hold out your hands...now, make them into fists..."
When he knotted the last lace, the gloves...well, mittens, actually...reached up to just beneath her armpits..
"Come along now," Ron said as he gestured to the door. "The car is already waiting."
The car? They were going out?
"Here, put this on."
Isabel turned to see a full-length fur coat being held open for her.
She slipped in her arms, then waited while Ron managed the fasteners.
"Hold up your hands."
Ron worked a matching muff over one sleeve, then pulled out a padlock, snapped it around the loops on the ends of the gloves, and pulled the muff over the exposed leather.
She followed Ron as best she could, but the towering heels hobbled her to a delicate trot.
The cold air hit her face like a blast. Outside, the door of a long limousine was being held open by an elderly chauffeur.
"To the club, sir?"
Ron nodded, and helped Isabel inside.
She couldn't see much but the lights of the city subdued by the darkened glass. He sat silently, leaving Isabel alone with thoughts that drifted uneasily back toward the lingering threads of her nightmare.
When the car stopped, she was surprised to see what looked like an ordinary townhouse with a recessed basement entry.
The stairs were a bitch, even with Ron's assistance.
He gave her a quick kiss on the lips, then opened the heavy wood door.
"Welcome to trouble."
Isabel was disappointed that the interior basically looked like the lobby at a nice hotel.
"Ah, Mr. R. Let me help you with your coats."
A middle-aged man popped out from the front desk and whisked Ron's overcoat onto a hanger. Once Isabel was unfettered, he did the same with her fur.
She was acutely aware of her bare ass sticking out jauntily from between the third and fourth rubber straps holding together her dress.
"Wait. I need something from my pocket."
Ron reached into his coat and pulled out a wide flap of black leather, then dug in again and retrieved two straps, one very long and one very short.
She felt the warm cowhide around her neck. One... two...three...four buckles later, the collar was holding up her head like a golf ball on a tee.
Isabel's elbows bent out, then click, click, her balled-up hands were pointing toward the ceiling as they hung high behind her back suspended from the short strap now attached to the back of the collar.
Ron clipped the longer strap to a ring in the center of the front of the collar and looped the other end around his hand.
"Now smile," he whispered as the man held open a set of double doors at the end of the lobby.
At first, Isabel refused to believe what she was seeing was real. A quick tug on her leash convinced her otherwise.
A half-dozen men were chatting with one another in what appeared to be a very large, yet cozy den. Paneled in deep, lustrous mahogany, the room glowed from the cheerful light of a roaring fire and several antique wall fixtures.
No, everything was normal. Except for the slaves, of course.
Two naked women kneeled on the floor facing away from each other with their ankles tied to each other's. Isabel could see what looked like a piece of paper between their pressed-together asses, then heard the faint hum of a vibrator. The drinks on their backs quivered as two men sat talking on a couch behind them.
"Imagine what might happen if that paper slips out," she heard Ron say.
Isabel turned away, trying to absorb everything around her. Her eyes fell on a young girl, maybe just 18, who was standing next to a older man dozing in an armchair.
Her waist was constricted into an impossible hourglass shape by a heavily-boned corset cinched tightly under her crotch. Her arms hung down her back in a binder, while her stockinged legs trembled on six-inch heels while being squashed together by a series of wide belts with multiple buckles.
A simple leather harness, just a thick strap underneath with a thinner one buckled tight across the top, squeezed her breasts from the back. Her nipples poked out from between a set of thin metal bars bolted together with wing nuts.
The chain attached to the bars went up to the ceiling, through a heavy eyebolt, then down to the top of the leather trainer around her frightened-looking face. The stretching made her breasts look like footballs standing upright for kickoff.
Isabel shuddered as Ron walked her past. The girl's heels were off the ground. And a weight danced from the end of the arm binder.
Over in a corner, a drop-dead blonde wearing red heels, stockings, garter belt and gloves swayed as she fought the effects of gravity. Ron noticed Isabel's interest, and took her closer.
The woman was suspended horizontally about five feet off the floor. Her arms were bound together with black rope behind her back at her wrists and elbows. Her ankles were cuffed, crossed and tied to her wrists so her legs were bent at a 90-degree angle and splayed out slightly.
The harness started with a piece of rope across her back that traveled under her breasts, and up past her ears to a knot just behind her shoulders. It was joined by another length wrapped around the top of her breasts, while a third loop tied to the same knot held her waist aloft.
Finally, a single cord was fastened to the middle of the rope around the top of her chest. It ran down the front of her body to her groin, only to take a sharp detour at her crotch. It angled up to the back of her head, where it was knotted to the strap holding the bright red ball gag in her mouth.
Holding her airborne was a pulley and a piece of rope that looked like a lopsided triangle. It passed underneath the big knot behind her shoulders, and then back to the rope connecting her wrists to her ankles. With her feet hanging higher than her head, Isabel imagined most of her weight was straining against the rope around her torso.
But that wasn't even the worst of it. The woman's nipples had been pierced with large metal loops, and someone had seen fit to snap large padlocks around them.
"Quite unpleasant, I assure you," Ron said after watching Isabel stare for several moments. "Care to give it a try?"
Isabel thought the woman looked like she was trapped in time during the middle of one of those awful exercises she used to hate in gym where the coach made them lie on their stomachs and grab their ankles.
She shook her head.
"Well, I'm sure we'll find something equally troublesome for you."
Isabel noticed several women wearing maid's uniforms kneeling around the room. Some held coasters in their mouths. Others were holding ashtrays. All were bound in the most awful ways.
"Not much of a crowd tonight, I'm afraid."
A million questions bounced crazily through Isabel's head, but she didn't think she really wanted to know the answers.
The man from the front lobby suddenly appeared at Ron's side.
"I'm sorry, Mr. R, but there's a telephone call for you. Would you like to take it here?" "No, I'd better go to your office."
He pointed to an empty corner.
"Go stand over there facing the wall, and don't move until I return."
Isabel stutter-stepped across the room as instructed and began waiting. She tried to listen to the conversations behind her, but all she could make out was occasional snippets of talk about sports, investments and vacations.
How long was he going to make her stand here? She thought about the girl in the corset and wondered if she could survive that kind of torture. Would she have a choice? Anything would be better than being suspended like that blonde, her weight of her body straining against those inescapable ropes that bit so deeply into her tits and especially her crotch.
She heard voices immediately behind her, but none belonged to Ron.
"What do we have here, Mr. H?"
"I believe it belongs to Mr. R."
"It has a nice ass, doesn't it, Mr. H?"
"Yes, a very nice ass, Mr. C. But it looks sad."
"How so, Mr. H?"
"It seems so empty."
"Unfulfilled, Mr. C."
"Can we help it find happiness, Mr. H?"
"I believe so, Mr. C."
What the hell...Isabel started to turn around until a hard swat across her exposed cheeks stopped her cold.
"Most unfortunate, Mr. H."
"Yes, a novice, I'm afraid. We'll have to take corrective actions."
Isabel heard what sounded like...maracas?
"I believe this will supply the necessary amount of joy, Mr. C."
"May I hold it, Mr. H?"
"Certainly, Mr. C."
"Quite heavy, Mr. H. Are those metal pellets inside?"
"Yes, Mr. C. Unfortunately, I was not able to fill it completely, so they have a tendency to shift when you move it."
Isabel heard a sound like chh-chh-chh.
"That's too bad, Mr. H."
"Ah, well, life is a series of compromises."
Isabel had no idea what they were talking about until she felt the tip of the dildo penetrate her rectum.
"To happiness, Mr. C."
Isabel closed her eyes as the cylinder was pushed deep into her cavity. She felt the pellets shift to the back of the dildo, which caused the tip to press painfully against the top of her anal canal.
"I do hope it doesn't pop out, Mr. H."
"We'd best take out some insurance against that calamity, Mr. C."
Isabel began breathing in short huffs.
"Oh, very nice. I like the patterns created by the studs."
"Thank you, Mr. C. It is a pity they go on the inside."
She felt someone reaching up under her dress and wrapping something around her waist, then gasped as the sharp rivets dug into where her pubic hair used to be.
"Are you sure it will fit, Mr. H? The strap doesn't quite seem to reach the hasp."
"Patience, Mr. C."
Isabel felt the studded leather disappear between the cheeks of her ass, pushing the weighted dildo another inch deeper inside her, then groaned out loud when the padlock clicked home.
"Shocking, Mr. C."
"I believe this will solve the dilemma, Mr. C."
Isabel didn't even see the bladder until it was being stuffed into her mouth. As the awful taste of the rubber mingled with the scent of the leather faceplate just under her nostrils, she felt straps being drawn around her nose and over her forehead, then everything was buckled inescapably behind her head.
"Would you do the honors, Mr. C?"
"Thank you, Mr. H."
Something tugged on Isabel's mouth, then she heard the unmistakable sound of air being pumped. As the bladder began to inflate, she looked down and saw a thin tube curling down from the front of the gag.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...Isabel tried to open her mouth wider to accommodate the relentless swelling, but a short strap under her chin, plus the thick leather surrounding her cheeks, denied any relief.
The pumping finally stopped, and a moment later, the squeeze bulb swung around and dangled against Isabel's waist.
"Well done, Mr. C."
"A vast improvement, Mr. H."
Isabel's knees suddenly went weak, and she had to struggle to keep her balance.
One of the men sighed extravagantly.
"Such well-sculpted legs. Pity it doesn't know how to hold them still."
"Shall we help it attain a higher level of education, Mr. H?"
"I fear it requires remedial tutoring, Mr. C."
Isabel couldn't decide if she was angry, or scared, or both. Who are these bozos? And what happened to Ron?
"Shall we continue the rubber theme?
"That would be appropriate, Mr. H."
One of the men started whistling as he picked up Isabel's left foot, then the right, and rolled something vaguely slimy up her legs. When he got to the top of her thighs, he pulled the wide band of rubber flat against her skin.
"Nice constriction, Mr. H."
Three more bands were soon in place above and below her knees, and around her ankles.
"I think there's hope, Mr. C."
"Yes, it does seem less likely to misbehave, Mr. H."
"Did you happen to notice the zippers on the front of its lovely dress?"
"Why, no, Mr. H."
"See for yourself."
A pair of hands reached around Isabel and began squeezing her chest hard.
"They yearn to be free, Mr. H."
"Then don't delay, Mr. C."
Isabel hadn't really noticed that the zippers covering her breasts were only about two inches long until they were unzipped and the hands were tugging her soft globes through the openings by her nipples.
"And real, Mr. H."
"You don't say? Let me see."
Another set of hands molested the hills of quivering flesh poking out from Isabel's dress.
"Quite right, Mr. C."
"Such a rare treat, Mr. H."
"We're truly blessed, Mr. C."
Isabel didn't like the ensuing silence one bit.
"It should be rewarded."
"Will these be adequate?"
Isabel thought she heard the clinking of tiny chains.
"I think so, Mr. H."
Isabel looked down and saw a hand holding a set of large, spring-loaded clamps open over one of her nipples. As he slowly released his grip, bullets of pain shot though her chest. But that was nothing compared to the searing sensation caused when the hand opened to drop a weight attached to the clamp by a long chain.
Isabel couldn't stop herself from instinctively trying to shake off the effects of the vicious devices.
"My, my, my. It doesn't seem to hear well at all."
"I fear it's insolence, plain and simple, Mr. C."
"We'd best continue, Mr. H."
"Can you fetch me a chair, please, Mr. C?"
Isabel's arms were momentarily freed, only to be bound tightly at her wrists behind her back. Someone climbed on a chair next to her, then her hands began rising.
"There, Mr. C?"
"Up a little higher...there, that's it. Well done, Mr. H."
"Thank you, Mr. C."
The pellets in the weighted butt plug shifted forward as Isabel was bent over.
She quickly tried to stand upright, but her wrists were hung just high enough to make the strain on her shoulders unbearable. But when she bent back over, she discovered whatever was holding her arms didn't give her quite enough slack to find any comfort in that position either.
"Bungee cord has so many uses."
"A wonder of science, Mr. C."
Isabel groaned. The weights on her nipples practically jumped as she desperately tried to find a compromise between standing up and doubling over, while the heavy, pellet-filled dildo slid back and forth deep inside her ass.
"Is that new, Mr. H?"
"Why, yes, Mr. C. Do you like it?"
"Very thin, Mr. H. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen a crop quite this slender. But it seems to hold its shape quite well."
"Notice how flexible it is, Mr. C."
"May I try it, Mr. H?"
"Be my guest, Mr. C."
The lights suddenly flicked off, then back on again.
"I'm afraid it's time for supper, Mr. C."
"I suppose it can wait."
"I'm quite sure it will have no problem doing just that, Mr. C."
Isabel stopped struggling and listened. Turning her head, she watched as the men in the room got up and started heading in groups toward a side door.
When the last one entered the dining room, he shut the door behind him.
Why, that no-good son of a bitch...Isabel flailed helplessly against the cord.
Where did he go? Why did he let those two men do all these terrible things to her?
She bent over as far as she could, but the bungee cord pulled her back like a spring. She resolved to stand up straight, but she couldn't take the tension for more than a few seconds.
That bastard Ron...when I get out of this...
If I get out of this, she corrected herself with a sigh.
Breathing hard through her nose, Isabel was suddenly aware of the other women in the room.
With the exception of her, all were as motionless as statues. And the only sound was the muffled squeals of desperate girls in severe restraint.
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