A Lady Pays Her Penalties Read online

  As time passed, Leslie’s legs quivered more violently and she became less stable on her high heels. They were wiggling and twitching against the floor. The right heel slipped out from under her foot and her calf bunched when she had to support herself on the ball of her foot. She screamed through the ball gag. The heel tapped a staccato beat against the concrete as she fought to get the shoe back into position. Just as she succeeded, the other heel slipped and she screamed again. She fought against the ropes and cuffs that held her ankles apart, trying to get her feet even another inch closer to give her that little bit more support, but the ropes were relentless. They were climbing ropes – strong as hell and no stretch at all to them. Leslie had invested in top quality across the board for today’s sport.

  She was not crying any longer; her face showed more frustration and anger than anything else. She had options – pull with her arms, push with her legs, remain still, struggle to get a bit of slack, twist her hip to put one foot or the other in a stronger position – but every option was bad. Improving one foot or one arm only put more strain on the other foot or thigh in response. Every action that she tried caused a painful reaction somewhere else. No matter what she did, she suffered all the more.

  But she had to keep doing something to give each part of her some relief when the strain grew too great.

  Craig was enthralled. Her breasts heaved, her buttocks clenched, her crotch quivered. Her involuntary dance was better than any girly show. Stretched and stripped indeed. Leslie had turned herself into a stretched, stripped dancer with every part of her available for Craig’s viewing pleasure.

  The timer finally dinged, but Craig spent a leisurely minute more enjoying the show. Leslie begged for release with her eyes and unintelligible gargles. Slowly, he rose from his chair and returned to the table to read the last instruction.

  “Unbuckle the ankle cuffs and remove the ball gag. Let me stand and catch my breath for a couple of minutes. Leave my hands cuffed. I’ll tell you what to do next.”

  He unbuckled the ankle cuffs first. The black stocking beneath the cuff was picked and pulled in places from the friction of her struggles. Leslie immediately drew her legs together to take the strain off her legs and arms. Even with that, there was not enough slack in the ropes at her wrists for her to put her hands together and release herself. She drew a slow, deep breath through her nose and around the ball gag. To give himself easy access to the buckle, he pulled her long hair into a sheaf and then laid it over her shoulder and down her chest. She groaned when the ball was finally pulled clear of her teeth, swallowed a couple of times to clear the excess saliva and tossed her head to throw her hair off the front of her shoulder and down her back. Finally, she commented, “I hope you appreciate how uncomfortable a ball gag can be. This one was slightly oversized. It put just enough pressure on my jaw to be uncomfortable at the beginning and really painful by the end of the hour.”

  Craig smiled slightly. That was Leslie. She always wanted to make sure that people appreciated just how thorough she was. It was one of her less endearing traits, but Craig catered to it, anyway. “And the shoes?”

  “One size too small, of course. My feet are aching something awful and my toes feel like they’re being crushed by a red-hot vise. But they aren’t coming off yet.”

  Another expensive item of clothing that she would discard as soon as her punishment was over, he thought. “As you wish,” he said.

  “I wish to blow my nose again.” Craig held the remnants of the blouse to her face while she blew three times. For just a second, he felt like one of his daughters had grown young again and he was taking care of her. He wiped the mucus and saliva from her face and chest before dropping the blouse back to the floor.

  When her nose was clear and her face was dry, she said, “I guess the sooner we start the next phase, the sooner it will all be over. It starts here, but moves upstairs right away. You can start following the instructions in the second envelope now.”

  The instruction sheet in the Phase Two envelope was titled, “Fun with Leslie’s Little Tits”.

  In Craig’s opinion, Leslie’s breasts could hardly be called “little”. She was no Dolly Parton, but her breasts were big enough and nicely rounded. He considered them the best part of her figure. Too many women have the strange idea that if they aren’t endowed with freakishly huge sagging udders then their breasts are too small. They could not be more wrong.

  The first instruction was the longest and most detailed so far. It read, “I’m leaving it to you to gag me because I don’t think I could do this is something that I could do to myself. Roll the panties that you cut off me into a ball, making sure that the ends are tucked well inside so they don’t end up down my throat. Give me a good long chance to smell them so that I can really appreciate their rich flavor. I’ve been wearing them since yesterday morning and I haven’t been wiping myself after I’ve been peeing. After you are sure that I have truly appreciated their vintage to the fullest, stuff them in my mouth. You may have to hold my nose closed if I’m reluctant to open up. When the panties are completely inside, tape my lips closed with the adhesive tape. Paint a cute happy smile on the tape with the lipstick.”

  Craig could not resist smelling the panties when he picked them up from the table. They were certainly ripe with a variety of human odors, but he thought that there was a greater smell of sweat and vaginal fluid than urine. He rolled it into a ball, as instructed, making sure that the crotch was on the outside bottom of the resulting ball. No sense doing this if he wasn’t going to do it right. Because they were bikini panties rather than a thong, they made a reasonably large ball. They would fill her mouth completely.

  When he held it up to Leslie’s nose, he made sure that the crotch part of the ball was right in front of her nostrils. She sniffed shallowly, and then turned her head away from him. “No, you don’t weasel out of this, dear.” He grabbed a big handful of hair at the back of her head and turned her face back to the panties.

  “Ow. That hurts,” she complained.

  He took advantage of her open mouth to shove the ball half inside. There was no reason to waste an opportunity. If she were going to talk, she was going to be gagged. Because of the way he was holding the ball, only a small rotation was necessary to force the crotch part against her tongue. She gagged on the taste and that gave him an opportunity to force the panties all the way inside.

  The roll of adhesive tape was back on the table. He had to walk back to get it. As soon as he turned his back, she spit the panties out of her mouth and onto the floor.

  When he returned, he said, “That wasn’t wise at all. Now you’ve got dirt on your gag.” He picked up the panties and rolled it back into a ball, again with the crotch on the outside. “Let’s see if we can wipe some of that old dirt off, shall we?” he forced the panties between her legs and slowly rubbed it deep into her crotch. “There. Now it’s all nice and fresh. But I’m warning you, you spit it out again and I’ll wipe your ass with it before I put it in your mouth. You want that?”

  Leslie shook her head.

  Craig put the panties back underneath her nose. “See, nice and fresh. You like that?”

  She shook her head again, but did not open her mouth to speak. She was a fast learner.

  “Okay. Open up wide.”

  She shook her head a third time, so Craig grabbed her nose and squeezed it shut. Leslie made the classic mistake of trying to hold her breath. After thirty seconds or so, she had to gasp for air and opened her mouth wide. Craig slipped the panties back into her mouth and released her nose. “Remember, leave it inside or I’ll wipe your ass with it. In fact, I’ll wipe my ass with it and that’ll really stink. Understand?” She nodded submissively.

  He wasted no time tearing a strip of adhesive tape from the roll and sealing her lips. He smoothed one strip along the length of her mouth, two short strips vertically to secure that one, then three more long horizontal strips to cover the whole area around her mouth from her nose to hal
fway down her chin. It was probably overkill, but he was absolutely certain that the panties were securely sealed inside when he was finished.

  As instructed, he drew a lovely cupid-shaped mouth over the adhesive tape with the scarlet lipstick that he found on the table. It was a new tube. Pristine. Leslie did not wear such a bright hue in real life. He gave the corners of the drawn lips a nice upturn so that they were smiling. He knew that Leslie’s real lips underneath the tape had no such smile on them.

  The next instruction read, “Handcuffs behind my back. Don’t let me rip out the gag.”

  Craig frowned, and then carried the handcuffs over to her. “Look, we better review our deal here. You’re asking too much. Originally, the deal was that I watch over you while you restrain yourself. Fair enough. I was just your spotter. Then it escalated to me applying some of the restraints when you can’t manage. That’s no biggie, either. But now you’re asking me to physically subdue you. That’s not going to happen. If I get into a fight with you, there’s too much chance that someone will get hurt. I’m going to release your hands. If you want to pull off the gag, that’s your business. I’m not going to grab you or twist your arms or anything like that. And I’m not going to replace your gag if you pull it off. It’s up to you to decide how you want to proceed. Understand?”

  Leslie lowered her eyes and nodded submissively.

  Craig tried to unbuckle the cuffs from her wrists, but he could not he could not see what he was doing when he tried to reach that high. He released the loop from the hook on the back wall so that she could lower her hands. She immediately unbuckled her own wrists, lowered her hands to her sides and stood waiting for him.

  When Craig walked back to face her, she looked down at her shoes, and then tentatively touched the corner of the tape that was gagging her. He waited impassively. She closed her eyes, lowered her hands, turned around, crossed her wrists behind her back, and waited for him to snap the handcuffs closed.

  He liked it better when she was behaving herself.

  “Okay. We continue. What’s next?”

  She walked over to the table. As he followed her, he noticed that she was walking more gingerly than before; the time she had spent in an awkward stance in too tight shoes with the too high heels was taking its toll. It was harder for her to balance when her feet hurt and her legs were exhausted. She had to be careful because she knew that if she stumbled with her hands cuffed behind her back, she would not be able to break her fall. Craig made sure that his hand was free if he needed to catch her, but expected that he would not be able to react in time if she fell.

  The next instruction said, “Take me up to the spare bedroom on the second floor.”

  Craig held her arm protectively as he guided her up the two flights of stairs from the basement to the top floor. Her arm was slick with sweat under his hand. His friend was having a hard day. And two-thirds of it remained.

  He had never been in her house before, but it was easy to guess that the room with the big bed was the master bedroom and the other one that was empty, but for two tables and a chair, was the spare bedroom. It helped that assorted leather straps and chains were laid out neatly on the smaller table in that room.

  When she entered, Leslie minced directly to the big table in the middle of the room, bent over it, lifted a knee up, and began to wriggle and squirm onto it. It was difficult with her hands cuffed behind her, but Craig appreciated the view. After a couple of minutes, she managed to get herself completely on the table. Once up there, she lay on her stomach and drew her legs underneath her so that her ass was sticking high in the air. She rocked backward until she was kneeling upright.

  Craig read the next instruction. “Help me get up on the table and into a kneeling position.”

  Too late to help her kneel on the table she had already managed that part by herself. He guessed that she was determined to do as much by herself as possible to keep to the spirit of their agreement.

  The next instruction said, “Buckle the belt around my waist and buckle my ankles to the short chains.” He looked at the table of toys. They were arranged in a line again. Assuming that the order was from left to right, the first object was a wide, heavy leather belt with a short chain and leather ankle cuff attached to each side. Its function was clear. When Leslie was wearing the belt around her waist with her ankles cuffed to it, they would be held tight against her butt. She would be forced to remain in a kneeling position.

  She raised her cuffed wrists so that he would have free access to her waist. She was being completely cooperative. After her ankle cuffs were buckled, she tried to rise, but the chains stopped her before her buttocks were clear of her heels. Craig did not know if she was testing the limits of her bonds for her own sake or if she was demonstrating the consequences of the arrangement to him. He hoped that she was doing it for her own sake because the idea that she might think that she needed to demonstrate the consequences of having her ankles attached to her waist by short chains was a little insulting to his intelligence.

  The next instruction was more complex. It said, “Uncuff my hands. Slide one leather harness over each arm up to my shoulders, cuffs to the back. Buckle the opposite wrist to each shoulder. Don’t force anything. This is dislocated shoulder territory if my arms are forced too far.”

  The reference to “dislocated shoulder” frightened Craig. He told Leslie, “I’m not sure that I understand exactly what you mean, here.”

  Leslie squeaked through her gag and held her wrists toward him. Craig understood the first part of the instruction easily enough. He unlocked the handcuffs with the key that was on the table. Leslie reached her right hand toward the table and made a grabbing motion. He picked up one of the two peculiar little leather harnesses lying there and handed it to her. She slid it up her arm to her shoulder and then turned it so that a short strap and cuff were hanging halfway across her back. Then she gestured for the next one, a mirror image of the first. When he handed it to her, she slid it up the other arm. As soon as they were both in place, she crossed her hands behind her back in a double hammerlock position. Her wrists were positioned near the two cuffs. Craig berated himself. This wasn’t so complex; he should have figured it out without her help.

  As he buckled the first cuff around Leslie’s wrist, he examined the harness. It was cut a little unevenly and stitched by hand with irregular stitches. Leslie had probably cut and stitched it herself from her own design. She was a resourceful little thing when it came to torturing herself.

  The second cuff was more difficult. It was easy for her to put her first arm in position by twisting her torso. Once in place, though, the second wrist did not reach its cuff completely. She jerked her hand in the direction of the cuff, signaling him to buckle her up, but he remembered the “dislocated shoulder phrase” in the instructions. He picked up her wrist in one hand and the cuff in the other. She nodded encouragement to him. Gingerly, he pulled the wrist toward the cuff. She arched her shoulders back as far as she could to reduce the distance that he had to pull. He found that he could move her hand to the cuff, but he could not buckle it because he did not have a third hand. He told her, “I don’t think that I can do this.”

  She snorted through her nose. Then she pulled her free hand out of his grasp and tipped herself over so that she was lying on her side, her legs still fastened in their kneeling position. Once on her side, she put her free hand back in position. This time, though, she could use her body weight to press her elbow against the surface of the table and move her own hand into position. Craig had no difficulty fastening the cuff now. When he was finished, he lifted her back upright. She was sure working hard to ensure that she would be tortured in exactly the way she wanted. She was not a person to compromise on anything.

  Now her bonds forced her to remain in a kneeling position with both hands pinned behind in a double hammerlock. She was forced to hold her shoulders as far back as possible to ease the tension on her shoulders. Her naked breasts were thrust straight out by
her rigid posture a perfect position for buckets of “Fun with Tits”.

  After all the exertion, her hair had fallen forward over her face. He gathered it together and draped it down her back, out of the way, so that he would have a clear view of her expression.

  Then he returned to the table to read the next instruction. “One at a time, clip a clothespin to each nipple.” There were two spring-operated wooden clothespins on the table.

  He carried the first clothespin to her, held it in front of her face and flexed his fingers to open and close the jaws a couple of times. Her breathing quickened at the sight.

  Pain was coming and there was nothing that she could do about it.

  Her nipples were sticking straight out, dark and engorged, making it easy to close the pin on the left one. When he released the pin, her eyes snapped round and wide, she squealed through the gag, twitched a little, and then froze stiff. With the clothespin on her nipple, any movement jiggled it around and every jiggle increased the pain. But even when she held herself as still as possible, her chest was heaving as she took deep, fast breathes through her nose. The clothespin bounced a little with every heave. Craig could see her trying to control her breathing to stop the bouncing as much as she could.

  He did not wait for her to get breathing under control before closing the second pin on her right nipple. If she wanted pain, then he would give her pain, strictly according to her instructions. She squealed again and squeezed her eyes shut tight. A single tear trickled out.

  Her nipples were burning like they were on fire.

  The next instruction read, “There is an ordered pile of cards on the table. Follow the instructions on each card, one at a time, beginning with the top one. After completing each card, move it to the bottom of the deck. Continue rotating through the cards until about forty-five minutes have passed.”

  There was a small stack of a half dozen index cards on the table. He glanced at the top card. More instructions. For a totally gagged woman, she sure was bossy.