Chapter 1: The Meeting

Hello. Is there anybody there? I can hear the music, but I cannot see anything. If anybody is interested, can you please let me out? I will explain. This will take some time so please bear with me. It started a couple of years ago. I work as a writer. I write stories for newspapers and magazines. I make a good living from it and used to have a nice penthouse apartment overlooking the River Thames. My mind is mixed up over the tie I have been here, so please bear with me.

It all started when I handed my story into the new editor of a magazine, they had replaced the editor with a younger man. I was upset as I liked Cliff. He was a bit on the old side and stuck in his ways, but I liked him. He encouraged me to write my stories in the first place. But this new editor, James, is a different kettle of fish. I handed him the story and he flicked through it. “It is the same as last time. Boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, boy marries girl and they live happily ever after” James frowned. “If only life were like that. I am afraid that we have moved on from Barbara Cartland. It needs some “oomph” to spice it up” he glowered at me. “Either bring a spicy story in or don’t bother me again”

His words ripped right through me. I was taken aback. I could tell from the tone of his voice, he meant it. I suppose he is right, so I had better pick myself up and get on with it. I suppose I am lucky. He could have just thrown me out. But he has given me another chance. So I had better make it a good one next time. Spicy, I’ll give him spicy.

I walked around until I found a bar and I had a couple of stiff margaritas. I did not waste time in the bar though. I quickly went home afterwards and threw the story in the bin. It is time to liven things up. But how do I start? I wish I had a boyfriend so I could discuss it with him. I couldn’t ask my friends. What would they think of me? I am an old has been at the tender age of twenty? I had a strict Catholic upbringing that sheltered me from the “sins of the flesh”. They never even mentioned the facts of life at my convent school. But my imagination had let me write these stories for the past two years. They are nothing like Harry Potter. All I write is short romance stories for this magazine and a few papers.

Determined to find out how the rest of the world gets on, I showered and changed, put on my best togs and ventured out into the night up to the West End of London to see what I am missing. I felt rather smart in my little black Versace dress, Gucci shoes and handbag. I wore a little black bolero jacket with it over a midnight blue blouse. Some say I would look rather like I am going to a funeral. I suppose I am really. The death of my old ways and the birth of new horizons. I have nothing to lose by finding out have I?

Eventually I reached Soho and looked around at the shops. I saw the shops with the latex wear and the handcuffs. My imagination was set alight. What have I been missing all these years? Surely people do not wear these clothes and what are the handcuffs for? I know that is what they are as I have seen them used on television. Perhaps they are warning people that if they shoplift they will be charged.

I carried on walking. I don’t know where I finished up, but I noticed a crowd of people heading in one direction and so I followed them. They were wearing the most outrageous clothes. If that is what you can call them in some cases! I looked over the road and saw a girl in a bikini with her hands tied behind her back. She was wearing thigh length boots. I looked over a bit more closely. I saw they had padlocks fitted at the top and at the ankle. The poor girl could not get them off if she tried. She must have been on tip toe as she walked. She was not struggling so she must have been enjoying herself. I saw a strap around her face holding a ball in position. I only found this because I got nosey. One of the three girls towing her by the lead and collar around her neck asked what I was looking at. I quickly walked off.

Eventually the crowd got to a large warehouse type of place. I go to enter it, but was told that I could not go dressed as I was. When I asked what the man meant, he told me it is fetish club. I could not go in dressed “normally”. I looked at the others walking by. They were all dressed in leather and other sorts of material. Some were wearing next to nothing. I looked at a man go by. He was wearing what appears to be rubber. His outfit consisted of a pair of extremely short tight shorts, a waistcoat and a leather hat. I have never seen anyone dressed like that before. The doorman said that is what I should be wearing. I looked at the man now entering the club and I felt the urge to go and rub his bum. But I held off. He looked so nice.

But I could not stand here all night. I needed to go and have a drink. Sitting in a bar in Leicester Square, I stared into my drink. I was too late to go to that shop on Soho and buy anything, besides where do I put my clothes? I don’t know how long I had been there, but it must have been for some time. All the while I was trying to imagine what was going on in that club. They must enjoy themselves as there were rather a lot of people going there.

“A penny for your thoughts” I was startled. A girl had sidled up next to me at the bar. “Pardon?” I asked. She told me she had been watching me for some time. “You look like you have all the troubles in the world on your shoulders” I looked at her and for some reason I found I was pouring my tales of woe about my story writing project to her. She is about five foot six, very slim. I would say she is about eighteen to twenty. She had got enviously long jet black locks of hair that come down to her back. And I am extremely jealous of her figure. But she told me I look fantastic. That brightened me up no end.

Her name was Brigitte O’Reilly. She came from Ireland. In her broad Irish accent she quipped, “You think you have got troubles? I have put everything I own into a flat that I rent. I owe a months rent. I went to the flat today and found that the locks have been changed. I have nowhere to stay for the night” I felt sorry for her. I took a photo of her with my mobile phone. I said I would help her to get a job. She is a student and does not have any money to her name. All she had left she had just spent in the bar. I thought that with her extremely good looks, I could try and get her some modeling jobs with the magazines I write for. But we had to find somewhere for her to stay the night. “But why are you called Brigitte? That is a French name? Bridgette is the Irish version, surely” I asked. “Lots of girls my age were called Bridgette, my mum wanted something different” she answered. I thought no more of it.

But because of the Hyde Park concert, nearly all the rooms were taken. Only the very expensive ones were left. I don’t know how it came about, but after another three bars and many more drinks, I told Brigitte she could stay with me for the duration. All I can remember after that was waking up in my apartment.

Next morning, I sat looking at the monitor of my computer. Nothing was springing to my mind in the way of a story. My mind is absolutely blank. Brigitte came in with a cup of coffee in each hand. She handed one to me. “If I could collect my clothes and store them somewhere, I would be on my way” I recalled she had been thrown out of her house.

We drank our coffees and we took my car to a neighbour’s house who took her clothes in when they were unceremoniously dumped on the pavement. We picked up her clothes and I felt sorry for her. “Look, my place is more than big enough for me. I don’t know why, but I can’t let you just go like this. Look, stay with me until you get on your feet. You can pay back when you can. Who knows one day I might need your help” I found myself saying. Brigitte’s eyes swelled up with tears. She turned and gave me big hug. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before, thank you” As she pulled back, I could see the tears flowing readily down her cheeks. I gave her a tissue and she wiped her eyes. I told her not to worry; she could help me write the stories I needed. Bridgette seemed to cheer up with that statement.

We thanked the woman for looking after her clothes and drove back to my place. On the way we started talking about my problem. I had to take her mind of her problem.. I have to concentrate on my problem now.

Chapter 2: The Awakening

Back at the apartment, Brigitte hung her clothes in the wardrobe. I made the coffee for us. I had to think. Here I am with a complete stranger in my pad. I had to come up with an idea that would ensure I would not get robbed. Then it struck me like a bolt of lightning. I called Brigitte in to drink her coffee. She sat down and I spoke up and tested her on my idea. “Brigitte, this is awkward. I feel such a fool suggesting it. If you do not want to go along with it, just say so and I will not say another word” She looked at me with a quizzical look. She said nothing, so I spoke up again. “Brigitte. What a lovely name. I don’t know how to put this; here I am with a stranger in my place. I don’t know the first thing about you. You could be a thief or a murderer or anything. But I am willing to trust you. But that is not what I want to talk about. Look, I am going to start holding parties for my contacts in here once I get this new style of writing under way. I wonder if you would take the job of being my maid. The pay won’t be much, but you would have a roof over your head and you will get the use of my car. Of course I will need your opinions on my story”.

Brigitte looked pensive and answered that she would give it a try. I told her I would get her a uniform so she did not mess up her own clothes. She laughed. “Can I have a nice French maids outfit?” I gave it a moment’s thought and said that would be the perfect outfit for my receptions, but in the mean time a plain maid’s outfit would best suit everyday wear. Brigitte was up for it. I said we could go out shopping that afternoon for the uniforms.

That afternoon was real fun. I never realized that Brigitte could be such a funny person. She really is fun to be around. She even makes shopping fun. In the uniform shop, I purchased three black dresses, five caps, seven aprons of all sorts. Some sensible shoes came next. Bridgette insisted in trying the outfit on. The girl in the shop said she could go into the changing booth. Bridgette was gone for some time before she came out. The uniform fitted perfectly. I have a funny sensation running through my veins. Brigitte changed, but not before a man entered the shop and she grabbed the apron by the corners and gave a deep curtsey. “Thank you mistress” she said. The man choked and the shop girl laughed. I have to turn away to stop myself from showing that I am splitting myself with laughter. The man eventually regained his composure and said “Ah. We have a filly who knows her place. That is what I like” He was starting to smile now, but Brigitte had gone to change. I settled the bill with the shop girl. She looked at me and I explained the situation we were in. I needed a maid and Brigitte needed a place to stay. It made sense for this. The girl told me she gets men in the shop pretending to buy a maids outfit for the wife. But from the sizes they ask for it is for them. The girl didn’t care who it was for, it put money in the till.

Brigitte came out and the girl went over to the man “can I help you sir?” The man glanced over at us and Brigitte caught on straight away what was going on. The man was looking at a maid’s uniform. The girl told him he had just seen Brigitte in one so he should know what they looked like. She asked him what size he wanted. He went rather sheepish and looked down. I could see him blushing. Brigitte went over, looked at him, pulled one off of the rail and said “This should fit you nicely, sir”. The man flushed a scarlet red. “It is for my um, er, girlfriend” the poor man managed to get out eventually. “Of course sir, but you have seen me in one, now let me see you in one as well” The man said he could not wear a dress like that. “Why not? Go on, be a devil and just wear it for us and give us a laugh” The shop girl piped up. She handed the dress to the man and said she would help dress him if he liked. The man took the dress and entered the changing booth. Brigitte whispered something to the girl and she was shown out to the back of the shop.

The girl went into the changing area and I heard her say, “Oh you do look sweet”. She came out dragging the man. I asked him to give us a twirl. Brigitte came out of the back after the man. She had a big grin on her face. The man saw her smiling and ran back into the changing area. That is when I heard “Where are my clothes?” from the changing booth. That is when Brigitte whispered to the shop girl, picked up the bags of her uniforms and we made a dash for the doorway, laughing. When we got outside I asked what she said to the shop girl. She told her where she had hidden his clothes, but if she wanted to she could pretend we had run off with them and drag it out as long as possible. I grinned at the nerve of it. We dashed along the pavement until we found a place of safety. We sat down in a café and ordered two cappuccinos’.

We sat whispering so no one could hear us. We both imagined the girl ragging the man something rotten. Would he have to phone the police or go out in that maids’ dress? Or would she relent and give him his clothes back? All sorts of thoughts ran through my mind. I had never seen a man in a dress before. Not even on the way to that fetish club. But we soon drank the coffees and went home.

Much to my surprise, Brigitte immediately had a shower and came out dressed in her uniform. “I might as well start right now” she said winking as she said it. “Turn around” I asked her. Brigitte quickly spun round. I said, “I know it looked all right in the shop, but somehow it does not seem right in the cold light of home” I said. Brigitte replied, “I was thinking that if you know of a dressmaker, the dress could be taken in a bit. This one seems to flare more than the one I tried on in the shop”, she said as she fastened the apron around her waist. I told her I did know of a dressmaker. If we pin it up to the size she wanted it now, I can drop it into her house in the morning and pick them up later in the week. Brigitte curtsied and went and got the pins. I got her to remove the dress and put it on inside out. Brigitte was nervous at the thought of being semi naked but she did it. I noticed that she was not wearing any slip and her underwear left a bit to be desired. But we can sort that out tomorrow. I put the pins in to an extent where the dress was more seductive as it clung to her curves nicely but it still gave her plenty of stride in her walk. But I had other ideas. I would have to be up early in the morning. Brigitte made the dinner for us.

The next morning I arose, showered and was out to the uniform shop once more. The girl recognized me immediately and I asked her what happened to the man. She told me she relented and gave him his clothes back, but not until she had asked if he would like to go out and get some undies for him. I laughed. But I bought six more uniform dresses for my new maid. I told her what I was planning. I said I would drop an invite to one of my receptions into her when everything was ready, but if we come back in again, she must not mention me buying more uniforms for Brigitte. The girl agreed, thanked me and after paying I was on my way.

I dropped the uniform round to the dress maker and I got four of the new ones out as well. I told her that I wanted one taken in just a little more than the one that was pinned, but one had to taken in to be really snug fitting. My dressmaker knew immediately what was in mind. She was the same dress size as Brigitte and so she put the dresses on inside out so I could pin each one to my satisfaction. “The poor girl will hardly be able to walk in this one the tightness you have made it at the hem” she said with a tone that showed her surprise. “That is the idea, to have a laugh with her” I replied. Another invite went out to the next reception and I was soon on my way home.

Brigitte was not there when I reached home. I was worried, had she taken my money and things and run off? But a few moments later, Brigitte knocked at the door. “Sorry, I had to go for a walk and clear my head” she said. I told her that was okay. When we go shopping, we could get a key cut for her. She went and made a coffee for us both.

“Now when I am in service, do you want to be called mistress, ma’am or miss, oh I don’t know your name.” She exclaimed. I told her my name was Janette Porter. We talked as we ate dinner. I got a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured out a glass full each. “You should not be doing that, I am the maid. Unless” she laughed, “you want to borrow one of my uniforms and be the maid for a change” I replied that might be worth a laugh. When I invite people up, Brigitte could be me and I would be her maid. No one would know and I would find out first hand what people thought of me. Brigitte laughed again. “I think that would be an excellent idea. I wonder if we could fool people like that”

I told Brigitte that I had been thinking, “Supposing that under your uniform which is supposed to a dowdy dress, you were wearing some sexy underwear? No one would know except you. On top a dowdy maid and underneath a sizzling sexy siren” “I have not got the undies for that” “We will get you some tomorrow” “And what about you?” “I will get myself a uniform tomorrow and you the underwear. I would not fit into your uniform. You are a size ten and I am a twelve” Brigitte raised her glass and proposed a toast. I raised my glass and we clinked them together. Bridgette asked again, “how does modom wish to be called? Mistress, ma’am or Miss Porter?” “Jan when we are alone, Ma’am when we have guests” I replied. Bridgette spoke next, “I know it is a nerve, but when we swap places, will you call me Mistress?” I could see the funny side of it and agreed.

Soon I was sitting at the computer lost for words once more. Brigitte came over and said “You need a raunchy story. Okay, so why not write about our experiences? Use us as the guinea pigs. A woman takes in a lodger who ties her up and makes use of her body and her identity?” I looked, but she carried on, “Who would know it was the truth?” she said. I replied, “But you have not tied me up yet” “We could play act the roles, that way you get first hand experience of the story.” I said that sounds a good idea, but I have never been tied up or tied anyone up before. “Well, we can see to that. By letting me tie you up, you get to feel the experiences of someone bound and at the tender mercy of another’s whim. That way you can write the truth about bondage”

I agreed that it sounds a good idea, but was still suspicious. Bondage seems a little, well, kinky to say the least. I have never even had sex, let alone tried out kinky sex. The nuns at the convent never explained to me that sex was enjoyable. To them it was just a case of lying still and thinking of England. They never even bothered to explain the real facts of life. But thinking about it in reality, what do they know of life? The only thing that has stuck in my mind is that I must remain a virgin until my wedding day. I want a big white meringue of a dress that has lots of lace and details on it.

So we agreed between us that tomorrow I would get a maid’s uniform for me and some underwear for Brigitte. She in return would be given some money to get some rope. I spoke about the fetish club. I wondered what it is like in there. Brigitte said that she would come with me and get some suitable clothing and we could go together and find out. I told her I would pay for the evening and the clothes she wanted as well. Brigitte thanked me and gave a nice deep curtsy. I laughed at this, but only because she had made such a perfect job of curtseying that I had to ask where she learned the art of it. She told me that she went to a girl’s boarding school. They were made to practice curtseying for hours on end each week until they got it perfect. At the time, Brigitte could not see the point of curtseying.

Next morning, we arose quite early. Brigitte came out in her uniform with the breakfast ready for me. I told her there was no need for that, but she said she was the maid. I accepted the breakfast; Brigitte curtsied and left me sitting at the table. “Where are you going?” I asked. She replied maids do not sit with their mistresses. I told her not to be so silly. We hadn’t started yet. But Brigitte was determined. Then she reminded me of our role reversal, so she would need to see me suitably dressed practicing my curtseys.

We got ready and headed for the uniform shop once more. Brigitte followed me in. We told the girl of our plan and she took a uniform from the rack. I tried it on. The girl tied the apron around my waist and I clipped the perky little cap onto my head. “Right, now you can practice your curtsey” Brigitte said briskly. “Pardon?” Brigitte whispered something to the girl and she disappeared into the back of the shop. “I said, now you can learn to curtsey” Brigitte said quite sternly. I practiced it and it went horribly wrong. “You are not leaving until you get the curtsy right” “Brigitte, you don’t mean that” “Oh but I do. Your clothes have been locked away and you will not get them back until you get it right” Brigitte said. The girl confirmed she had locked my clothes into a place where I could not get them.

For three hours, until Brigitte and the girl were satisfied, I practiced my curtsy. Over and over and over again. Brigitte and the girl were laughing. People walking past the shop kept glancing in. They must have been wondering what was going on. “Think yourself lucky you are not wearing a natty little French Maids outfit and showing your arse to the world every time you curtsied” Brigitte said. The girl laughed. She said she thought that would have been fun to watch. Brigitte laughed with her. But at last they were satisfied and I was told that I could change after I had made them a coffee each. I went to turn, but Brigitte caught me. “What does a good maid do and say?” I curtsied and said “Thank you” “That is not good enough. How did I say I wished to be addressed?” She said. I answered, “Thank you mistress” and gave another curtsey. “That’s better. Now you are learning to be a good maid. I think we should go a whole month swapping roles. I think you look nice in that outfit. You shall wear it for the rest of the day.” “No, please, you can’t make me go about like this. People will stare at me.” “So what? All they will think of is that there is a maid walking along the road. As there are a lot of hotels in the area, they might wonder which one you work for. And I bet you get a lot of wolf whistles as we walk about town. Of course, you will have to carry the parcels” Brigitte said mockingly. The girl laughed. “No please, not that. I couldn’t do it” I replied. Brigitte shrugged her shoulders. But once they had finished their coffees, Brigitte ordered me to go and get my own clothes on.

Once changed I asked Brigitte why she had tormented me. She replied that she was talking to me the way that maids should be spoken to. I must admit, I thought she had meant it when she said she would make me wear the uniform for the rest of the day. “What makes you think I would not have done it?” Brigitte laughed. I was beginning to think she would have done as well. Still, as she pointed out, it would have meant that when I go to the fetish club I would be prepared for the comments. “Do we have to wear them to go their? Can’t we get changed once we are there?” I asked. Brigitte replied, “Well firstly there is nowhere to put them and secondly, I would not trust my clothes being there when I got back”

We walked on. Brigitte saw a hardware shop and told me to wait where I was. She needed £50 for some rope. “Blimey, what are you hoping to tie up. The Titanic?” I asked. But she said it was far better to have too much rope than not enough. Once she had all she wanted she came back out with a large bag bulging with rope.

It did not take long to find a shop that sold French Maid’s outfits. We settled on two outfits including six inch lockable shoes. The outfits were zipped up at the back and could be locked I n place making removal impossible. The girl asked if I were going to have one as well. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. If nothing else, surely they would let me in at the fetish club. So I bought one to the design Brigitte liked. Again with lockable shoes. I was to have the keys to Brigitte’s shoes and she was to have the keys to mine. That’s a fair swap.

But then we walked o to another shop. It was the one wear I first saw all that latex stuff and handcuffs. Brigitte grabbed hold of me and pulled me in. I did not know what to get so we made a deal. I would pick an outfit for Brigitte and she would choose my one. Brigitte knows my size and I know hers. I said I would pay for anything. And the cost was no object up to £500 an outfit. This gave plenty of scope for us both.

For Brigitte, I chose some knee length boots in red leather. A pair of extremely short red leather shorts. A red leather bustier and a leather mask. Some leather handcuffs that could be clipped together and some ankle cuffs as well. A chromium collar that held her head steady with the word “Slave Slut” stamped in large letters on it

Brigitte chose a thick black rubber; I suppose that what the material is, cat suit that zipped up at the back. Black leather thigh length boots with a strap and padlock at the top and at the ankles, a black leather corset that could be laced up and locked and a full head helmet, with holes for the eyes and mouth. She chose a pair of smooth leather gloves that came up to above my elbows. They have a strap at the top that can be locked as well. Lastly was a rubber gas mask. Once in it, nothing could be seen of me. I tried the cat suit on but Brigitte said that although I looked okay, I was not good enough. I would have to have a size smaller and I had to leave my underwear off. I have never worn trousers without knickers before. The owner said I had better get the right size as it would mean that I could not return it if I had no underwear on. Which is understandable I suppose. I would not like to try it if someone else had tried it on first.

Brigitte told me that one had been a little loose. The man said the total cost of this outfit is £720.” I told him that was too dear. He replied, “If you come back tomorrow and try it on, I will do the whole ensemble for £550”. It was a good deal, but the outfit I tried was a little too large. A size smaller should be just right as long as there is no underwear to spoil the line. Brigitte said that should be fun. I agree we would be back the next day to try it. I paid for Brigitte’s outfit and we left the shop.


Chapter 3: All Tied Up

Back home Brigitte, we prepared dinner between us. I start to have second thoughts about my outfit. Brigitte assured me that I would look a right temptress in it and I would be the envy of everyone. Once diner was out of the way and everything was washed up and put away, Brigitte said we had better start the bondage session. I look at her and agreed. Brigitte said she would put her uniform on. I didn’t think that was necessary but she insisted. In the mean time, I was to strip to bra and pants. I asked if that was necessary, but she pointed out that by doing it in my underwear, I could pretend that I had been captured by some ruffians and was going to be transported to the Far East to be used and abused in some seedy brothel. So while she went to put her uniform on, I stripped and put my clothes away and got the ropes ready. There were rather a lot of them. Still, Brigitte seems to know what she is doing.

I stood up in my bedroom ready for Brigitte to come and do her bit, but I am nervous. I am wearing one of my favourite bras with a tie sided pair of briefs. A knock on the door and I called out for her to enter. Brigitte walked in fully dressed in her uniform. “Permission to start to tie you up then, ma’am?” she asked giving a nice curtsey. I told her to do her worse. I expect her to just grab the ropes and wind them around me. But no, she told me to get a pencil and a pad and write things down as she did it. I got them and started to write.

The first thing she did was get some stiff rope; I think it looks like window sash cord to me. She made a couple of hangman’s nooses. I looked at her, puzzled, but she assured me that she had no intention of hanging me. These were for something else. The first one had twelve loops around it and the second one had twenty loops. They were pulled fairly tight leaving just a little loop at the end. “How can I hang you with these?” Brigitte asked. I asked what they were for, but all she would tell is that I would find out. I was busy writing this down in my notebook. The shorthand came in handy after all. I started the story, “The girl watched in horror as the men made some loops of some of the rope. The looked like hangmen’s nooses and she thought they were going to hang her as she would not co-operate with them. Now she struggled in the corner, her cries for help being stifled against the harsh gag they had stuffed in her mouth. The men took no notice of her as she struggled against the harsh ropes restraining her near naked body”.

“See you are getting the ideas already. Now stand up and hold the rope for me” Brigitte said. She started with my ankles. She wound the rope around them eight times. I could not move my feet. I was surprised that something as simple as this would immobilize me. I had never thought about it before. But ideas for the story came flooding into my imagination. “The girl watched as the next girl, already gagged was having ropes wound around her legs making it impossible for her to escape either” I told Brigitte that the ideas were there. “You were right” I told her, “I have had some ideas already”. Brigitte smiled, “I told you that this would work. Your mind will be free to explore all the avenues”.

Now she wound the ropes above my knee caps holding my legs together. I am still puzzled about those nooses. What are they for? I can’t wait to find out. Brigitte took the ropes and walked behind me. “Take your bra off”, she demanded. “What?” “You will find it nicer if you are free.” Brigitte told me. I unclip the bra and she took it from me. I am getting rather nervous now. “Hands up behind your back” she ordered me. I put them up, but she arranged it so my fingertips were touching my elbows. I feel her take a length of rope and wind it around my arms pulling my elbows towards each other. I feel the jerk as she pulled the rope tight and tied it off. I guess the rope must be wound around my arms at least a half dozen times. I ask if she was nearly finished.

“Open your mouth” Brigitte demanded. I open it and one of the nooses were put in it. It went right across my mouth and I feel her pull the end around and she threaded it through the remnants of the noose end of the coils and she pulled the rope back and tied it off. “Now that will put an end to all your questions, my girl” Brigitte said sternly. Now she starts on my arms again. I can feel her winding the rope around my arms so that between my elbows and wrists there was nothing to be seen of my arms. I shudder as she tied it off. I feel a very strange feeling, here I am getting more and more restrained and yet somehow, I don’t know, I feel freer than ever before for some reason. I cannot lower my arms any more. Is that the end of it?

I was wrong. Brigitte tied some rope around my stomach. This was coiled around six times. Looking in the mirror I can see she is very neat with the rope. There are no twists in the coils. They all run on top of each other. Now she tied my arms to the coils around my waist. I cannot even lift my arms anymore. But there was more to come. I stand there as Brigitte wound more rope over my breasts and around my body and arms. This went around for three times. After the third time, she came around my front and placed the ropes under my breasts. She is pulling it tighter than ever. My breasts are being squeezed between the coils above and below my breasts. She still had not finished.

She tied the coils above and below my breasts together with a length of rope between them. Now she carried on with more rope. She wound ropes below my breast and over my shoulders and down to my arms. If it were not for the ropes already around my chest they would be supporting my breasts. My breast are being pinched quite tightly now. “Nearly finished and then we will get you onto the bed for the rest of the treatment” Brigitte told me. I am starting to get worried and somehow I am starting to like this. To surrender my freedom to someone else. To not have to make decisions. How wonderful. To make sure the ropes over my shoulders and under my breasts did not slip off; Brigitte took some cable ties and clipped them together with the coils around my body.

I look in my mirror and saw myself imprisoned in a mass of ropes. But Brigitte was not finished. She untied my briefs and pulled them off of me. I am now naked. She now walked around in front of me and held up the second noose she had fashioned. “Now you will find out what this one is for” she said with a mocking smile on her face. She tied a piece of rope from the coils around my waist and let it hang down in front of me. I watched her in the mirror as she walked behind me and I can feel her hand slipping down between the cheeks of my arse. She is pushing something between my legs. She stopped and I could feel her fussing with something behind my back.

Walking in front of me, Brigitte said I looked a treat. She put her hands between my legs and pulled something out. I could feel it was the noose nest resting between my legs. She took rope hanging down from the coils around my waist and threaded it though the loop of the noose. This was tight I noticed as she walked behind me again. Now I can feel the rope being pulled tight forcing the noose up to put pressure on my labia. Ooh I feel a little damp already. I have never felt this before. I can feel warm between my legs. As I say, as I had a strict upbringing that taught me that it was wrong to try out things on my body myself, I have never even tried to find out what happens when your body is touched. As far as my parents and my nuns were concerned, all thoughts like this were immoral and I would only find out when a boy marries me. I have been missing a lot. Thank you everybody.

But my mind has been racing about my story. Brigitte took a feather from her duster and started to tickle my nipples. As I shook, I could feel the coil between my legs moving slightly. This is wonderful. It felt like a storm brewing up in my body which suddenly crashed as this wonderful feeling flooded through my body. I have never felt this before. This is fantastic. Brigitte clipped a couple of clamps on my nipples and some thin chains went from them over my shoulders. I could feel her fussing about. The clamps hurt. She had fastened the other end of the chains to my wrists. As I try to lift my arms to ease the pressure the rope between my legs moved slightly causing the noose to be pressed harder against my body. If I lower my arms, the coils move back and my breast get lifted by the clamps.

Brigitte laid me on the bed. She took some rope and passed it under the bed. She walked around one side and picked the rope up and tied it to my upper arms. Walking around the other side, she pulled the rope tight and tied that end to my other arm. Now I cannot get off of my bed. She tied a rope to the coils of rope around my ankles and pulled it down to the bottom of the bed. She tied it off tightly, so I was unable to move at all. She took some photographs of me.

Brigitte told me I looked lovely. If she were a man she would rape me there and then. “Goodnight ma’am” she said as she pinched the corners of her apron and gave a deep curtsey, “I trust you will be safe for the night” I tried to answer, but she turned out the light and closed the bedroom door. I wonder how long she will leave me like this. It is only eight o’ clock now by my clock.

I lay here and hear the front door close. There was no other sound. Brigitte had gone out and left me. I try to call out, but my voice is too muffled by the gag. Would she be back? Supposing she had robbed me? I cannot stop her while I am trussed up like this. No one would find me. No one knew she was staying with me either. I wriggle to try and loosen the ropes, but all that happened was that the coils moved between my legs and I felt that feeling again. This time it was more intense. But Brigitte had made too good a job of the ropes. I am a prisoner caught by some devious cow. What can I do? To make things worse, Brigitte has left a pair of scissors on my dressing table. They are standing up so I can see them.

My arms are aching from being trapped behind my back. My nipples hurt from the clamps. My breasts are glowing red from the tight bonds trapping them. How could she do this to me? How could I fall for it? I wished for a burglar to come and find me. If I had been in a house, the window cleaner would find me at least.

My mind has been racing away, not only about what will happen to me, but about my story. Isn’t it marvelous? At last I have come up with a brilliant story and I cannot write it down. I do not know how long I have been her, but in my mind the story has been finished for a long time. I hear a noise, it is someone in the lounge. It must be Brigitte. I can hear someone with her. It is a man. They are talking. Occasionally a sound of laughter came from the lounge. Are they laughing at me and my predicament? Do I try to scream and let the person know I am a prisoner on my own bed, stark named and bound and gagged? Or do I keep quiet and hope Brigitte will release me? If I scream and the person hears it, I will be found, but that would be embarrassment for me and it might give Brigitte the hump.

I decide to keep quiet, but I wish Brigitte would at least take this nipple clamps off of me. But eventually the front door closes. The guest had gone. Brigitte came into my bedroom. She is wearing her French Maid’s outfit. The clamps are removed from my nipples. “I see you have been enjoying yourself then” Brigitte said with a laugh in her voice. She untied the rope holding my arms. I thought she was going to release me, but no, she turns me onto my stomach and reties the ropes to my arms. “nnnnnn” is all I could say. Ouch, that hurt. Brigitte had a riding crop in her hand. She is beating my buttocks with it. Each time the crop hits my rear, I react by pushing myself into the mattress. The rope slides a little between my legs and after a dozen lashes; I feel that wonderful feeling for the third time. “You are enjoying this aren’t you?” Brigitte asked. I can only murmur. The feeling was a little tingle at first, building up to a crescendo of crashing waves through my body. This was the best yet. I lay on the bed completely spent. I am exhausted. “I am off to bed now. I am leaving you like this as I know where you are. Tomorrow you will be my servant and be the maid for the day. You must do everything I say. No refusing order I give. Understand? Or else I leave you here until you do.” I didn’t answer quickly enough for her and I received another sting blow on my red hot rump. “M nnyee” (I agree) Brigitte turned out the light, closed the door and left me there for the night. I must have dropped off to sleep in the end.

Chapter 3: The Fitting

The next morning, Brigitte came in and untied me. She told me to put on my French maids uniform. I did as I was told. I showered and put the outfit on. She started straight away at me. I had to cook breakfast and polish the floor on my hands and knees. I was not allowed to eat breakfast at the same time or in the same place as her. I was busy polishing the floor as she ate her breakfast. “Your knickers are showing dear” Brigitte said. I go to pull my dress down, but received another blow on my rear with the riding crop. “Who gave you permission to stop polishing? I will tell you when you can cover up. I am sure then men folk will love seeing your frilly knickers” I finished the polishing, Brigitte handed me her breakfast things and I curtsied and said “Thank you mistress” I take the breakfast things into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee.

Brigitte called me into the lounge. “Did you have any ideas of a story?” she asked. I curtsied and said “Thank you for asking mistress. I have had lots of ideas” I answered. I was told to go to the computer and write everything down. It did not take long as I have a program on the computer where I can speak and it prints it for me. I felt a fool as I sat there with my stocking tops showing where the skirt was not long enough. “I meant to ask, did you enjoy the session yesterday?” Brigitte asked. “Yes mistress, although I didn’t like the clamps on my nipples or being left in bed all night. But the rest was fantastic” I can not curtsey where I am as sitting. I stood up and curtsied, “Thank you for asking mistress”. I asked where she had got those clamps from. We never bought them at the shop. Brigitte said nothing but turned the television on.

Once I had finished I was told to go and put my normal clothes on, we have to go back to that shop to pick up my outfit for the fetish club. I have to model my outfit for the shop owner to save money. I got changed and we headed for the shop. “So you decided to come back eh? I thought that would be the last I had seen of you” the owner said. Brigitte told me to go and strip off. She would bring me my outfit. She followed me into the booth and removed my clothes. She came back without them “I have told the owner to lock them away” she said. I stood there naked when Brigitte handed me the cat suit.

I looked as four girls; all dressed in rubber came out of the back room. They were the assistants. They had black hair, purple eye shadow, black lipstick and long black fingernails. Two wore short skirts. One flared and one tight. One was in shorts and the other was in tight trousers. They all wore black satin bustiers. Their breasts were showing quite amply in them.

I never looked at the size of the cat suit. I just took from her and Brigitte handed me some talcum powder. “It will make it easier to get the outfit on” she said. I poured talcum powder into the suit shook it so the powder went everywhere. This was when I stripped and stepped into the leggings of the cat suit. I struggled as I pulled it up. It took some doing, but I had got it up to my waist. I put my arms into the sleeves and by looping my arms; I got the top up to cover my breasts. This was hard work. I hope it will be worth it in the end. I called out to Brigitte and she came into the room and pulled the zip up to the top. As she pulled the zip, I could feel the suit getting tighter enclosing my body.

I heard a click and Brigitte told me that to make sure it was right, the suit had to be locked on. I could feel the material straining against my body trying to force my body into a smaller size. Brigitte helped me on with the boots. I had to sit down while she pulled them onto my legs. Then when she had them on me, she locked them in place. She helped me to stand up. Now the gloves went on and she locked these in place as well. The helmet went on and it felt funny as it tightened around my head. The sound of the laces being tightened seemed to echo through m skull. Lastly I heard the click as the lock was shut covering the laces up.

There was a hole for my nose, but there was a piece of leather covering my nose so only my nostrils could be seen. Brigitte told me to turn around. All this time I have not looked in the mirror. I wish I had. I felt the corset being put around me and Brigitte called for help. The man came in and they took a lace each and once Brigitte had placed the corset on me so my breasts are being held in the cups of the corset, they began to pull on the laces. I could feel the corset getting tighter and tighter. I find it hard to breath. “Breath out” said Brigitte. I expelled all the air from my lungs. That was a silly move. They pulled the corset tighter. But soon they were happy with my shape and tied the laces off. I felt them pulling the straps over the laces. Once that was completed they put little padlocks through the buckles.

The man told me the corset was made of whalebone. Brigitte said she didn’t think that they used it these days. “Don’t you believe it. The Japanese still hunt whales “for research” and we recycle the bones” he replied. I find it hard to bend my arms and legs and he told me that the leather would give in the end. But they had not finished. I was pulled out into the shop. The owner said it did not look right. He took a leather penis shaped gag, pinched my nose, I opened my mouth and he pushed the gag in. He fastened the strap so my mouth was not seen. By now the cat suit was getting hot and clingy. It clung to my skin like a second skin itself.

Brigitte decided my arms were too free, so the locks on the gloves were unlocked and a chain was put between them and they were locked once more. My arms were pinned to my sides, slightly back forcing my breasts forward. I looked in the mirror and that is when I noticed the cat suit was showing all the outlines of my sex. Everyone could see what I would rather they didn’t see. “Hm! We need to do something about that. We can’t have our mannequin displaying everything like that can we? I might get arrested for improper display”. The owner said. “Mannequin, what does he mean, mannequin?” I thought. I tried to scream but the helmet and gag were too efficient and everyone laughed at my pathetic attempt to refuse whatever they were going to do to me.

One of the girls got a leather collar that held my chin up so I could not look down. She placed it around my neck and did the straps up. Then she locked it. I noticed in the mirror there were some D shaped rings. Another girl brought out a triangular shaped piece of leather all studded around the edges. As she undid it, I saw the straps fall down. Between them the girls put the straps between my leg, pulled it up behind me and two of the others pulled the side straps around my waist while the fourth girl held the triangle in front of me. I felt the straps being pulled extremely tight. “There. All done. Now to put you in position” “Position?” I thought. I tried to fight them off as best I could but with six of them against me and me being restricted like this, I was wasting my time. One of the girls got what looked like a pair of goggles you wear for skiing. They are dark when you are wearing them, but if anyone looks at you, all they see is the reflection of themselves. This was put on my head over my eyes and tightened up. “Have you ever worn a chastity belt before?” one of the girls asked, “You look lovely in it” So that what the triangular piece of material between my legs is.

I could see I was being manhandled towards the window. The shutters had been pulled down. I tried to resist, but this was impossible. I was stood right at the front of the window. Chains hung down from all positions around me. My feet were chained by the locks on my boots to some rings in the floor. I was standing with my legs spread a yard apart. Chains were then locked onto my gloves so I could not move sideways. Another girl fitted some leather cuffs to my wrists and chains were clipped on so I could not move them. More chains were clipped between my collar and the handcuffs.

Two of the girls pulled some chains out from the side and fitted them to the collar as well I could not move my head now. Finally, and it surprised me as I never noticed them, I could feel someone fiddling with my helmet. I was told there are D rings at the top. Suddenly I can not shake my head either. The girls gave me a once over and said I look superb. I watch in horror as the shutters slowly ascended leaving me standing in the window for the entire world to see. And there is nothing I can do about it.

I felt someone rubbing my cat suit. I can hear the spray. The girls were polishing it up for me. I loved the attention I was getting. The cat suit was clinging to me now like it would never ever come off. Brigitte said she was off to see some friends. She will be back later for me either today or tomorrow. I try to struggle but it is a waste of time. As she goes past the window, she blows me a kiss. I will kill her.

All day long I had to stand here. Maybe all night and tomorrow as well. A large crowd gathered in front of me. The girls arranged the other mannequins around me. I was hoping the men are trying to look up their skirts. All day long the customers poured in. Several of them wanting to have a feel of my cat suit. That is when I saw the girl from the uniform shop. She had taken a photo of me. She waved goodbye, blew a kiss and walked off. If I could have expected any rescue, it had just walked of and left me. My heart sank. Some of the men tried to buy the mannequin, me, from the shop owner, but he tells them I was not for sale. But at least it let my mind wander about another story.

At closing time, I watched thankfully as the shutters came down. “Your friend has not come back for you, so we might as well leave you here for the night” I struggle but realize I was wasting my time. But thankfully the girls released me. I stripped off the cat suit. It was hard as it was stuck to me through my sweat. The owner said he had made more money that day than the whole of the month. “Would you be available for any more days?” he asked. I sad that I wasn’t, but I am sure we can get Brigitte to have a go. Just then she walked in. She is grinning from ear to ear. “Enjoy yourself?” she asked. I told her that I didn’t. It was horrible. Everyone staring at my body, but as she pointed out, they would never know who was in the outfit if indeed anyone was. But one thing that she said was true, now I had got used to being stared at, I had no objections to going to the fetish club dressed like that.

I spoke to the owner about the cost and as he had cleared £7000 profit that day, I could have the outfit for cost price of £400. I paid and Brigitte and I walked home together stopping in bars along the way. “Now tell me Jan, who here would recognize you from the shop window?” Brigitte asked. We sat near some men. “Did you see that mannequin in the window today? Wow. She was the best I have ever seen. I wish my old woman would let me do that to her!” The other men agreed with him. I feel like telling them it was me. But I bite my tongue. How can I prove it? Even though I have the clothes with me, it might be that I saw her and bought an identical outfit. Another of the men said, “If I had a bar up here in London, I would dress all the barmaids like that!” All the men laughed. We finish our drinks and walked off. If only they knew. It gives me quite a buzz to know they are talking about me.

Once we reached home. Brigitte ordered me into my French Maids uniform again. I looked at her but she reminds me the deal was I was the maid for the day and there is plenty of time left of the day. After the hot and sticky outfit I had been wearing all day, it is a refreshing change. I showered and slipped it on. It did not take me long to be standing in front of Brigitte awaiting her orders. She produced the clamps and held them in front of me. I gulped at the sight of them. “You should have checked my wardrobe I have a lot of stuff like this with me” she said. We agreed a Chinese meal would be best for our dinner. Brigitte ordered me to go and get it. I said it could be delivered. She reminded me that I agreed not to refuse any order. I curtsied and went to put a coat on over the uniform. Brigitte ordered me to remove it and go as I am. “I can’t go out like this. What would people say about me?” I said rather concerned. “You are not to disobey any order or those photographs I took will go on Facebook” Brigitte said sternly. I curtsied and thanked her for the advice. “Thank you mistress”.

I opened the apartment front door and looked around. There was no one about, so I made a dash for the lift. Normally one of the lifts come up immediately. But this time they seem to be stopping at every floor from the ground floor up to this one on the 25th floor. I jumped in the lift, close the door and press the ground floor button.

The lift doors open and I tentively poke my head out of the doors. No one about. Good. I make a dash across the foyer to the main door. I open it and looked out. The coast is clear. Picking up courage I thought that if I walk briskly, no one would bother me. I was right, but as I got to the High Street, there were crowds of people. They just stared at me. Some of the men stood there with their mouths open. I decided to ignore everything and just get on with it. The wind was blowing and I can feel it around my thighs. It took me 10 minutes to get to the Chinese restaurant. I had to wait for 30 minutes before the meal was handed to me. I could feel all the men’s eyes burning into my body. This is turning me on knowing that all the men are lusting after me. I even enjoyed the walk home. I hear several wolf whistles. I have never had this done to me before. I feel uplifted by this.

Going up in the lift was the worse part. A crowd of men got in. I could not move. I was pressed against the back of the lift. I could feel their hands wandering over my thighs between my stockings and my knickers. This was nice, but I was wary. The higher up the tower block we went, the emptier the lift became. By the 18th floor there was only one man left. He was quite handsome. Eventually he spoke. “You look tremendous in that outfit. Really lovely” I thank him for the compliment and found out he is going away tomorrow for a couple of months. At least he will not be round to spread rumours.

I served dinner and curtsied. Then I take my place in the kitchen. Brigitte kept calling for something or other. She kept pretending to drop things. Of course, I have to bend to get them for her. But I bend over at my knees. That way she does not get a view of my extra frilly panties. Once the dinner had been eaten and the plates washed up, I was called back into the lounge. I was sat at the computer and was instructed to write my story.

I wrote of my experiences of the day. The restriction of bondage and yet the freedom. How it perked me up listening to the comments and how I got men turned on walking to the Chinese restaurant. It did not take long to write with my speech program. I e-mailed it off along with the other one that I wrote yesterday.

Brigitte asked if I had learned anything today. I told her how I had learned how easy it is to lead men on. I have also learned not to be shy. She told me that this would mean that I would not be afraid to leave home to go to the fetish club dressed in my outfit. Why should I be? No one will know me there. If they did, would they care or say anything as they would be admitting they went as well.

A day went by and I grow concerned that I have not had a reply to my stories. Even to say they had been received. Brigitte said she would take them to the magazines herself to make sure they got there. She had been gone all day before I started to worry about her. Mind you, it was only because she had handcuffed me to the computer table. But for some reason, I could not get on the internet. This is a pain. But Brigitte returned and released me. I had another story nearly finished by the time she got home.


Chapter 4: The Club

The night of the fetish club dance came. We got dressed. Brigitte looked fantastic in her outfit, she said I was as well. We set off for the club. But Brigitte had put a chain on my collar and was leading me there. As soon as we got to the club, Brigitte put those goggles on me again. I could not stop her as she had put the chain on between my elbows and as the gag was in place, there was nothing I could do. I tried to refuse to move, but a few stinging swipes with the riding crop and the threat of the removal of the chastity belt so my crotch would be obvious to everyone made me comply with her orders.

It was not long before a volunteer was sought. I was pushed to the front. Up on the stage was a frame of some sort. I was lifted up and carried to the cradle. The entire crowd was cheering. I try to refuse, but the people carrying me are far too strong. In the middle of the cradle is a bench. On the bench is what appears to be a black blanket. As I got pushed nearer to it, I can see it is not a blanket. I didn’t know what it is made of. I was lifted up into a horizontal position. My glasses, gag and helmet was removed along with the collar and chastity belt. Before I can scream, I am slid along horizontally. I could see now it is not a blanket but a bag made of a rubber material. I was pushed down and the top was fastened over my head. My face was sticking through a hole. That is when I saw one of the girls approach with a round shaped piece of the same material. It had a tube through it. I opened my mouth to scream and the tube is pushed into my mouth. Everything was blacked as the material was settled into place over my face. The round shaped piece of material was clipped to the bag and I heard a compressor start up. The bag had started to inflate. I could not move and I felt the material pressing against me completely immobilising me.

The compressor stopped and I was unable to move a muscle. I could feel people fussing around me. I would like to know what they were doing. Suddenly I felt myself swinging. The pressure of the bench had gone. So they had suspended me in the bag from the cradle. I felt a little sick at first, but it settled down once I got into the rhythm of the swing. I don’t know how long they intended keeping me in this bag. I could hear the music, but for all intents and purposes, I could not force them to ever let me out. Wow this will make a great story.

I tried to struggle, but the bag and the pressure is too strong. Obviously the bag is double skinned. I was sweating like a pig by now in this rubber cat suit. I tried to imagine what I looked like from the outside. But it was not bad in here. It was a bit like a womb. I had to keep calm. How many of those in the club envied me? By the time they let me out, I have a story of a girl who gets kidnapped and is smuggled abroad in my mind.

Eventually they turn the music off and I am released from the bag. The manager comes up and told me that they do that to all new entrants. It is the initiation ceremony. I asked “What about Brigitte?” “She has been here several times” “So how did you know I was a new entrant when you could not see me?” “Brigitte told us” he had a big grin on his face.

We walked home that night Brigitte could see I had the hump with her, but as she pointed out, I probably had a new story to write. She was right of course.

Chapter 5: The Trap Snaps Shut...

I noticed money had been drafted into my bank account when the letters started to arrive telling me they had accepted the stories. They liked them, but they had a different name. Instead of J. Porter as in Janet, they had written B. Porter. But as long as the money went in, why should I care? But I did ask Brigitte about it. It seemed funny that she was a B and the letter came to a B.

Brigitte told me that she and the editor both thought that as the stories were a complete new line, it would be better if a new name was chosen. She had to think on her feet and that was all she could come up with. This was no problem.

The next day I had to go and collect her uniforms from the dressmaker. When I got back that evening, I made her put the one on with very little leg movement. It fitted like a glove. It was shaped to follow her curves. Once she had the apron and cap on, I ordered her to go and get an Indian take away. This would be fun to watch. I gave her the money and once I saw the lift had reached the bottom, I took the next lift down. I watched as she swayed her body along trying to get a long a step as the dress would allow. She was making the most of the opportunity s she sexily strolled along the street. I had to return him and wait for dinner. When she got back, I ordered her to eat dinner with me. She said she couldn’t do that as she was the maid. We came up with the idea that for the meal, I would put my maid’s uniform and we could be maids together.

I said to Brigitte that I had not tied her up yet. She agreed with me and asked how I would like to do it. I took her into her bedroom and got her to lie on the bed, face down. I tied her hands to the top bed posts and I pulled her feet as far apart as the dress would allow and tied her feet to the bottom bed posts. Now she was spread-eagled, I took the gag I had and rammed it on her mouth. Once I was satisfied, I started to swipe the cheeks of her arse with the riding crop. But the effect would not be as great as the material cushioned some of it. It would take harder blows and more of them. I got to 25 lashes when I heard a low moan from her mouth. My God, what was happening to her? I saw her suddenly spasm, so she must have had that experience that I had. I left her there, said goodnight, turned off the light and shut the bedroom door. Brigitte can stay there until the morning.

When I released her, I asked what had happened. She told me she had an orgasm. Not much of one, but one anyway. So that is what it was. It was natural after all. I thought I was weird. The nuns never told me about that. Nor did mum. Brigitte thought it must have been a mixture of the uniform, the sexy underwear and the way she was helpless while I spanked her. Still it gave me another story. A woman who whipped her servants.

Time went by, I was making a fortune from this raunchy bondage stories. We had a small party. I invited the shop girl where we bout the uniforms. Both Brigitte and I wore the maid’s dresses while we served everybody. It was a roaring success. Plus it paved the way for yet another story.

One day Brigitte came back from the magazines editors and told me that James had been replaced as Editor of the magazine. I never realized I was never to see him again. I just kept churning out the stories. There was so many that I decided to buy a large house in the country. Brigitte was worried what was going to happen to her, but I said she could come with me. We were working well as a team. She would tie me up and I would be able to just lie there and think of a story.

I found a nice house. It even had a cellar. Ideal for keeping wine cool. Brigitte joked that it would make an ideal place for an office. I could work in peace down here while she got on with the housework. I thought about it,, but I was not keen on the idea. But I bought the place and we settled in.

The house was decorated while Brigitte and I went to the Caribbean for a month. Before we went Brigitte said, “How about a cell in here. I could lock you in and tease you while you write the stories. You could look through the bars at me while I really teased you. You may get some brilliant stories out of that. Especially if I tie you up and pretend you do not exist any more. As she was right in the first instance I agreed to go along with it. Brigitte made the arrangements.

We sat down for tea and I started to think of a story. The log fire was roaring away in the hearth. I looked into the flames and thought of different ideas. But it must have been the wine and the fire as I fell asleep. I woke up in my bed. When I got up Brigitte told me I fell asleep. It must have been all the moving. I agreed with her and thought no more of it.

The holiday came and went. When we got home, we inspected the place. It was perfect. It was just the ideal place. Brigitte asked me to follow her. In the passage was a secret door. You would not even know it was there. She opened it and the light came on revealing some stairs. We went down them to the cellar. Brigitte had made the plans out for the builders. Halfway down the cellar was a cell made of iron bars. The door had three locks on it, so escape would be impossible without the keys. On the outside were three hooks. One hook for each key.
At the far end of the cell was a toilet and shower, a sink, a table and a chair and a rough bed with a thin mattress and a one blanket. A single fluorescent tube lit the cellar up. On the table was a computer. Brigitte had even had it wired into the internet. But I did not bother to turn it on. We went upstairs again and Brigitte made the dinner and got the wine ready. We sat enjoying ourselves.

But I must admit, with the flying home and the exploration of the house I felt tired. I said I had to go and lie down. It did not take long for me to fall asleep. I awoke with a headache. It took me a second to realize I was not in my bedroom. Instead I was in the cellar. Instead of my satin nightdress I was wearing an old sack that had been stitched up to give me some sleeves. I felt something hard around my waist. I lifted the sack to discover a chastity belt mad of metal. I looked over at the wall and saw the cell keys hanging there. There was not a cat in Hell’s chance of reaching them. The n I saw the other key. This must be to the chastity belt. The door to the cellar opened and in walked Brigitte. “I see you are awake. I saw you on the monitor” she pointed to the camera in the corner of the cellar on the outside of the cell.

“What is happening? Why are you doing this? How did I get here and why is this infernal thing around my waist?” I demanded to know. Brigitte looked art me and said, “You are in no position to demand to know anything. But I will tell you anyway. I have taken over your identity. You recall the letters went to B. Porter instead of J. Porter?” I nodded. “Well, the money was sent to my account first and all I had to do was transfer the money into your account a week later. You should have checked what account the money was coming from. Of course I kept some for my, well shall we say, expenses?” “Expenses, what expenses?” I demanded to know. Brigitte laughed, “Well there is that chastity belt for a start. That was not cheap. It is the best on the market, so you will always know you are wearing something of the best. Then I had to buy the sack and alter it. I hope you like your new dress because that is all you are going to get in future. The colour does not suit you at all. Nor does the design, but you will b get used to it.” I felt the sack lightly rubbing my nipples. They are getting firmer and larger. But I need to frig myself, but I cannot touch anything.

“But you are my maid”. “No, you are my prisoner. No one outside knows you are down here. All you have to do is keep writing those stories and you will be fed and given a drink. As for the maid business, well, I have got my old friends here with me. They are my maids now. I was lucky as your uniforms and mine fitted them a treat. Of course I had to buy some more for them. They do all the cleaning and cooking. But they do not know you are down here yet. They will find out soon enough when I ask them to bring your meal down to you. You will soon get used to your dress and the bed. It is not like the clothes you were used to wearing or the sprung bed I sleep in upstairs, but it is a bed. Slaves cannot expect any more than that”.

“Why are you doing this to me? How did you get me down here? How did you find out the measurements of the chastity belt?”

“Easy. The measurements. Lets start with that. Remember when we first moved in, you felt tired? I spiked your drink. The same thing happened last night. I got help to get you down here though. I could not have done it myself. Why am I doing it? I had nothing going for me and you seemed to have everything going for you when all you did was write silly stories. I had to drag you round to get you used to bondage as I knew you would be spending the restyt of your days incarcerarted like you are.”

“Who helped you?” but Brigitte never had to answer as the old editor of the magazine stepped into the cellar. “James, help me. Please, I am begging you. Get me out of here” I cried

Brigitte laughed. “You thought he had left. I told you that, but he is still there. We became lovers and hatched this plot between us. Now we have a comfortable living with his wages and what you earn for your stories”

“James, please, she is mad. Let me out of here. I won’t say anything”

James looked at me and said, “You are our bread and butter. I hope you like that, because all you are getting is bread and butter in future, some meat occasionally and vegetables and water. It is a different life style you are going to be living in future from the one you had” He turned, gave Brigitte a kiss and left the room.

Brigitte said “Do you remember me saying you should write a story about a lodger who takes over the identity of the person who let her stay in her house? Well, you can write that now from first hand experience. I would suggest that you put everything down to make it more interesting. No one will believe that you are here in my cellar earning a living for us and our maids”

“You can’t do this to me. It is wrong”

“Oh but I can. Wrong it maybe, but it is a nice feeling for me. Not for you perhaps. You should have 60 years or so in this cell. Just think, you will be looking at the brickwork and the bars and the fluorescent light. That light will never go out by the way. So you will soon lose track of the time”

With that she pointed to a glass on the table outside of the cell. There was a colourless liquid in it. Slowly Brigitte allowed a piece of steel drop into it. There was a fizzing and a cloud of steam and the metal disappeared. “Acid. Quite potent. It is a good job you do not have it and you would be able to melt the locks on the cell.

With that she set up a pulley on the wall and tied the key to my chastity belt to it. The string went over the pulley to a large candle. “It will take a week for it to drop. I have made the candle myself so every day; the string will inch down until the key goes into the acid. I think it should take about two weeks for that to happen. Though, so for two weeks you may have the slimmest chance of getting out of that chastity belt. Then you will be trapped in that chastity belt forever. Just think, never having a man inside you. How sad. Imagine dying a virgin. I could not do it. That is horrible. Still, look at the experiences you have had. I am sure your imagination will give us plenty of stories to keep us in the manner we are accustomed”

“I won’t write any stories”

“In that case dear girl, or should I say slave 1, you will not get fed or watered. It takes 17 days to die of thirst and 40 days to die of hunger. It does vary a bit from person to person of course. But you will soon write stories once hunger and thirst starts to bite”

I look at the computer and said “What stops me from sending an e-mail?”

“You do not think for one moment that computer is linked to the internet do you? No dear, it goes to the computer in James’s study. If he likes it, we e-mail it off to his office. If he doesn’t like it you go without food for two days. By the way, we are getting married in two months or so. I won’t tell you the date as time will mean nothing to you. Have you any last requests before I leave?”

“I would like something to read”

“Why?”

“So I can get ideas for stories”

“I would have thought that by leaving you brain blank, you would be able to fill them with sexy stories of all types. I will think about it. You will not see me again so often. The maids will bring your meals. I will be listening. Apart from the first time they see you; they will not be allowed to speak to you ever again. But I will be able to watch you through my monitor in James’s study and hear you. But I will only listen when the maids are there. Goodbye.” Brigitte lit the candle. I tried blowing it out. Brigitte laughed. “If the maid’s see the candle is out, they have orders to relight it. Make the most of your freedom slave”

I don’t know how long it had been. I churned out a story in a day and the door opened and in stepped a maid with my food and drink. All it consisted of was a glass of water and six slices of bread. I begged the maid to report Brigitte and James. But she told me that she regretted it and felt sorry for me, but she could not do that for me. We spoke about her uniform. I told her it used to be mine. “Thank you. It is nice. I suppose that French maids dress was yours as well. We have to wear them when they throw a party. Well that is what they have told us anyway” she said. She passed the tray through the slot designed for it and I took it off of her. I thanked her and she went on her way.

But now came the big day. One of the maids set down a tier of a wedding cake on the table opposite. I had to eat bread and butter while opposite me was this huge tier of cake. Brigitte was really taunting me now. But I had to write a story a day if I was to fed the next day. Gradually the maids brought more layers of cake down.

I watched as the candle let the key slip another inch. The key is only 3 inches above the glass now. I have only got three days to get this wretched thing off of my body. I cannot touch myself in any way. Those trips to the club and the bondage had awoken feelings I never knew a girl could have. Now it is going to be denied to me until I die.

Two more stories were sent upstairs and more food came down. The key was near the acid. But a maid came in. I asked her to grab the key and give it to me. She ignored me and put up a new candle. Brigitte is starting it all over again. Torturing me in a way that is most cruel. So I sat down and wrote exactly what happened and sent it upstairs.

But one day, I knew something was different. Something was up. There was still plenty of time left on the candle, but all the maids came into the cell along with James. I was grabbed and the sack was pulled off of me. I stood there clad only in the chastity belt. Between them, they bound me hand and foot with my hands behind my back, wrapped me in my blanket and wrapped ropes around that. I watched as a speaker was set up on the other side of the cell bard. “We were going g to give you a monitor to let you se what was going on, but it will be of no use to you” James said. I wondered what he meant. The maids strapped my helmet on to my head and put the gag was pushed into my mouth so I could not scream or talk. The blindfold was next. I was tied to the bed, face down.

I heard the music. Here Comes The Bride came first, then the hymns and finally the Wedding March. I heard the maids taking the cake away. I can hear the music. Please somebody, come and find me. I hear a “plop” and a fizz. I realised it was the key to my chastity belt dropping into the acid. Now I am stuck forever. The maids must have cut the string. Or more likely Brigitte had crept down and did the dirty deed herself. I was never to know who trapped me in this chastity belt. I am going insane with lust already. “Please, I beg you. Help somebody” I realised that if Brigitte was cruel enough to trap me in this chastity belt, once I have been freed from the blanket, the cell keys would be following it into the glass of acid. Now I can hear disco music. The reception must have started. In my house. Without me or my permission. I would not object to working as a maid if need be. Anything is better than this.

Some time later, I was released from the blanket and the helmet. Blindfold and gag was removed. I started to scream at the maids. But they simply held me back until they could get out of the door. They locked the cell door behind them. I could see my chastity belt key had disappeared. They picked up the speaker and departed. One returned with some bread and water and a clean sack dress. “Mistress and Master are off to the Caribbean for a honeymoon. Isn’t that romantic? The two of them making love in the moonlight? Out in the open on the beach. So free and not a care in the world. How wonderful that must be” she said “Please, as they are away, you can let me escape now” I asked her. “Oh no, if I do that, we have been told we would be put in a cell for the rest of our lives like you. You wouldn’t like that would you? Anyway, she is sending down some things for you to read. She left and a few moments later, another one entered. I asked her to let me go, but all she said was “Here are your magazines to read. Mistress sent them down for you. Isn’t that kind of her?” she left and I looked through the books. They were all sex magazines. The cow, I tried to stimulate myself, but there was no way I could slip my fingers between the metal and my body. Not even round the waist band. I was as randy as hell. It hurt. I went completely mad trying to get relief, but this only made me more frustrated. But there was nothing I could do about it. Roll on sweet death. At least I will get out of here. Eventually I finished up screaming at the top of my voice, but there was no one to hear me.

I sat at the computer once more and started to type another story. I needed to if I want food tomorrow. I wouldn’t mind as much, but the sink and shower only has cold water flowing, so I will never feel refreshed. I have not had a hot drink since the day I woke up to this nightmare. So if you are invited to a party at Brigitte’s and James’s house, the secret panel is the third one from the right at the bottom of the stairs. Please hurry up and release me before I go completely insane.


The Trap: Mistress Brigitte’s Story

Well, everything went smoothly trapping slave 1. It was easy as pie, but it did take a little longer than I thought. But it is better to take your time and ensure you snare your prey than rush in and let it escape.

From the first time I met slave 1, (I will not call her Janette. Slave 1 is her name now), I realised what I was missing. All she does, or did was write those silly love stories and she was earning a fortune for it. I worked in a shop n the other hand. And all I was earning was the bare minimum wage.

I had to earn her trust. It was lucky she got that ultimatum from James about her stories. Anyway, I had to tread carefully and gradually introduce her to the world of bondage. When I stopped those e-mails from getting through, I quickly volunteered to take the stories to the magazine personally. That is when I met James. We hit it off straight away. We became friends and James asked how she got the idea for the stories. I told him and watched as he grabbed his crotch. We met only once a week but became more than friends. James listened while I told him my idea of a story about how a person could be caught and trapped in a cell forever. I could see he was more than excited by the story. I got him to ask me to marry him and agreed I would once Slave 1 was out of the way. I said we could try it out on her. He agreed and now here she is.

I bet she wishes she could experience bondage once more, instead of being locked in that cell. It has only been two months and already she has lost track of time. I notice that instead of a long sleep, she has several naps throughout the day. If I get up and she is asleep, I ring the bell over the speaker system. If I am awake, so should she be.

The best bit was that during our wedding service and reception, all I could think of was her lying there completely restricted in her blanket while I danced the night away.

I never go down there to see her. As far as I am concerned, she is merely our income for what it is worth. I would let her sew her own sack dresses, but I am afraid she might try and do something silly with the needle. So the maids sew them for her. I realised I was too generous with the length of her dress and I have instructed the maids to cut down the length of them. Instead of coming to her knees now, the hemline is now just below her arse. Occasionally I get a glimpse of her chastity belt.

I never realised James was so clever with electrical work. He set up this sound system, and put more cameras in the cell so we can watch slave 1 from lots of angles. I have relented and we have put a 40 inch monitor in her cell. Well outside her cell on the far wall. Just so she cannot reach it to turn it off. Slave 1’s problem is that it is linked to a computer solely dedicated to playing blue films for her. It is so nice when I see her banging her chastity belt for relief knowing she is never going to get it. I love seeing her break down and cry. Especially at night when she tries to go to sleep. We can see her on our 40 inch monitor, crying for help. I feel randy as hell when she does that and we have often made love in front of the television while she is trying to get relief, or is crying because of her predicament. Every night she cries herself to sleep.

She curls up into the foetal position and sobs her heart out.

The stories have slowed down, but I have relented a little by allowing her 1 slice of bread if no stories are coming. But there must be no butter on the bread. The maids know I mean it when I say the punishment will be harsh if I catch anyone talking to her or helping her in any way. But we do send down our left over’s if there are any. I try my best to make sure there is not. One pleasure I do love is making two of the maids eat their Sunday dinners in the cell. They have all the trimmings along with wine, while slave 1 tucks into her meagre bread and water and whatever we have left for her. She always ends up crying. It is lovely to watch put her hands though the bars and beg for food. But they know they are being watched and would receive a harsh punishment for their wrong doing. They ignore her pleas completely.

One thing I did wrong, and i admit it, was to creep into her cell while she was bound and let that key drop into the acid. I should have used another key that looked like the key to her chastity belt. Or come to that, I should not have asked the maid to change the candle to keep her looking at her key to freedom for another two weeks. They are the biggest candles I could get and I had to remold them so the string was held in the wax. As it melted, the string was released and the key dropped another inch. Still, I do have this last key that I keep on the chain around my neck. It would have been lovely to have recorded her face as the key fell into the acid and melted away forever. Perhaps I miight do it with this one. But I decided that the day I was going to have sex with James as man and wife would be the last day slave 1 would ever be able to get the chastity belt off.

You might ask why I decided that she should wear a chastity belt. I can’t let her mind wander from the job she has of writing stories by letting her have fun can I. It is great fun to see her fidgeting while she is writing them. I was shocked when I first saw her stand up and start thumping the chastity belt hoping it would knock or rub against her and relieve her frustration. All she has to think of is that she did experience a few orgasms even if she knows she will never have them again.

The chastity belt is the best on the market. It looks like a second skin on her. There is no way she can slip a finger in anywhere. It is designed so that her labia is pinched in the slot where her urination leaves the belt, but of course there is a cover that is locked on she can feel the pressure on her body but do nothing to relieve it. I love it. The designers are really clever people. I bet they never realised that one of their belts would really be used for a prisoner. I had it inscribed. “Slave 1. Property of Mistress Brigitte”. Just so she will always remember who she is and who she belongs to. Just for her comfort it is lined with neoprene so that if she knocked it, the blow would be cushioned against her. Isn’t that nice of the makers and me? I am too kind really. I was only thinking only of her. I could have had it made without the neoprene.

I did see one day that she had stripped and was playing with her breasts. I called James in and we made love like never before in front to the monitor. She was still at it when we had finished. It only served to make her even more frustrated and she really cried when she realised she could not orgasm that way. But her breasts must have been made tender as all day she walked about her little cell stooping so the sack never rubbed her nipples. I suppose it would have been better for her to have taken the sack off, but as there is no heating in the cell, what bit of heat she has from the sack is better than nothing. Other than that, the only other heat is from the computer she works on and the monitor. Still as long as she works fast enough she will keep a little warmer.

I played a recording of our wedding and how we have decorated the house out to our taste. I did give a nice long commentary of how nice the satin wedding dress felt while I was wearing it. Nice and smooth and ever so warm. In the video I ran my hands down from my breasts right down to my thighs to show how smooth and nice it felt.

It was a bit too hot really. I am glad it was off the shoulder; otherwise I would have been sweating something horrible. I should imagine that slave 1 has lost a bit of weight by now. Perhaps I should send her down the dress so she can wear that and be the blushing bride all on her own. No, I cannot do that. It is far too good for slave 1. Maybe I should get a maid to hang it on the wall opposite and get her to comment how nice it feels to the touch. But then again, it would mean that she would have to talk to her. When she saw the luxury she has provided for James and me she really broke down. Even the maids’ rooms look like her old apartment in comparison to where she is living now.

One idea we did have was to remove her and have the house modified. James came up with the idea that we could have a chute that we can drop her clothes and food into. But the problem was how do we get the dishes back or remove the rubbish when we want to get her to clean her little world up. Perhaps a tiny dumb waiter would be better. Then we could brick up the cell forever. But then again, it is lovely to watch her as a maid enters her little world. Without fail she tries to get them to talk to her and every time they ignore her pleas and walk out leaving her in silence once more. They vary the times they go down there, so she never expects them or is ready for them.

Last week I played a film of James and myself making love to her. All she did was break down and cry. It was lovely to watch. We had to make love on the spot. James was worn out by the time I had finished with him.

Once summer comes, I should imagine it gets a bit stuffy I the cell. It must smell a bit by now. I will have to organise an air change plant that refreshed the air once a day. I am only thinking of the maids as they have to go down there. I might go down there one day with the extra key to her chastity belt and show it where I keep it. It is funny; slave 1 being kept permanently frustrated has made me even more randy. Where is James, I need him now. Once we have done that, we can decide where to go for our next holiday. I fancy a trip down the Nile. James wants to go to Dubai. Maybe we could do it in a one month holiday. I will get him to set up cameras all around the house so we can keep tabs on the maids. Perhaps that is when I should go and see slave 1. I have to give her the good news that we will be away for a month having a lazy holiday. I need to relax. It is hard work keep churning out these stories. Especially the story where the girl is trapped into becoming a slave and having to write stories for her mistress. I have sent a note that I want a full length hard backed cover book that can be sold and make us even more money. Slave 1 knows how it goes. She can write it first hand. She has the knowledge of the plot after all. I think that we should remove her blanket and replace it with a sheet. She will not be able to sleep so well if she is cold. I notice it is getting colder at night now the nights are drawing in.

That was wonderful, watching her cry while James and I made mad passionate love again. Slave 1 has asked the maids in turn if they would ask me if she could become a maid. She told them she would not run away or tell anyone, but how can I trust her? I simply sent back a note describing the wonderful blue sky and the gorgeous colours the trees are turning. I had to laugh as she cried. Still I suppose it is a natural reaction knowing she will never see them for herself again, or darkness come to that, except when the fluorescent light is changed. Or if there is a power cut. I think that there should be emergency lighting with a battery back up so there will always be a light.

I opened the door and crept down to her prison. She looked at me and screamed. I told her she was wasting her energy. She would never be free. We were going on holiday and I will be taking all the keys with me. James has programmed the computer to play the story of “O” over and over again with other blue films. I might let him put one romantic film on it. Just to remind her what romance really is. But slave 1 kept screaming. I could not get a word in so I turned to leave.

“Please, don’t go” I heard her say with a voice that trembled showing she had been crying. God how she can cry. I rebuked her. “What does a maid or slave have to do and say?”

I laughed as she grabbed the corners of her short sack and gave me a curtsey. “Please Mistress, don’t go. I need to talk” I heard he whisper.

“Speak up slave 1. Or I shall go and leave you here”

“Please mistress, couldn’t I become one of your maid’s? I will never run away or tell anybody. I will do anything you wish”

“But you won’t run away or tell anybody where you are will you? Besides I have enough maids as it is”

“Please release me. Let me go free. How can I tell anybody I am trapped in this chastity belt forever?”

“Oh you mean the key? Oh well, I do have another one. Look it is here” I pulled my necklace chain out revealing the last key. It hangs down between my breasts normally. Slave one screamed at me “I need to be released. I cannot keep this frustration up”

I am afraid you are going to have to. You may have another 60 years yet of frustration. 60 years of never being able to release your tension. Oh that is making me randy. I must find James. I need him again. To feel his throbbing cock inside me is wonderful. I think this time I will let him tie me to the bed again. I love it when he does this. I bought myself and James a chastity belt as well and James keeps the key to mine and I keep his keys. When I look at you and feel randy, I know that I cannot get relief until James comes home. It is terrible having to wait nine hours for him to thrust himself inside me. It must be terrible for you. It has been three months now. Oh well, that is your life. Some of us have to do it. Now get on with your book and I will call back before we go on our well deserved holidays. I will pick up those cell door keys then” I jangled the keys to her cell door. Slave 1 started to cry once more, I walked out of the cell, turned to look at her once more and said, “When we get back, I am thinking of having that door welded shut so the keys will be of no use” I laughed and shut the door behind me. As I walk away I can hear the stupid girl crying.

James tied me to the bed and ravaged me once again. I could not live without a regular supply of cock. I nearly felt sorry for slave 1 then. But instead of releasing me, James tidied me up and left me on the bed gagged. Just to be horrible he turned the monitor on so I can watch slave 1 all day. God how she makes me feel randy. She does not know how lucky she is. Never having sex, she will not know what she is missing.

I loved it on our wedding night. James made me keep the wedding dress on, but minus my panties. He handcuffed my hands behind my back and lay down on the leather footstool. I stepped over him straddling his face with my legs either side of the footstool and he arranged the dress so he was under it and I could not see him. He pulled me down and I felt his tongue exploring me. I had never experienced that before. It was wonderful and did not take long for me to explode in a violent orgasm. Then he washed, removed my handcuffs and we made love all night with me still in the wedding dress. Perhaps I should put it on him and give him a treat with me under the dress working on him.

I was there for some time before James came back and took me. But it was lovely. He rode me to a crescendo and there was nothing I could do about it. If only slave 1 knew what she was missing. I must stop this I am starting to feel sorry for her.

We washed and showered and James told me he had booked up. We would be away for two months. We were going by boat to Dubai and then by boat to the Nile for the cruise and eventually back by boat. I asked why everywhere was by boat, but he said I would find out. We showered together and dried each other off. Then James asked me to put my chastity belt on. I told him I was his slave and as he is my master, he may do what he likes with me. I was his to command. James put the belt on me and locked it. I asked him why he did this to me and he told me it was to keep him horny as long as possible. I laughed as I knew it would not be long before he would be having his way with me. I got dressed. James called for one of the maids.

She entered the room, curtseyed and he left the room still talking to her. While I was packing he said he had arranged a surprise for me. I asked him what it was but he just simply said I would find out. I said that he should wear his and I would keep the keys in my purse. He agreed and I helped to put it on him. I had to laugh as when he is wearing it, he has to sit like a lady on the toilet. It would mean that I could keep him controlled and frustrated while I get him nice and horny. Later in the day, the maid came back and gave James a receipt. He laughed and told me I was to study it. I looked. It was a parcel for a hotel in Dubai. “I have sent the keys to your chastity belt to the hotel so for the entire cruise out, you will be kept as randy as hell” he told me. I screamed at him. Surely he did not mean it. But he did. I now have to spend two weeks on that ship watching all those tanned sailors in their hot weather clothes and I cannot relieve my frustration. I could kill him. James was going to have the time of his life. “That is why we are going by boat. You don’t go through a metal detector on a cruise” James said laughingly. “You can tell slave 1 of your experiences and she can write them down and make a story of it when we get back” I saw his point at that. Okay I was stuck in this infernal thing for two weeks, but that is a small price for the relief I will get when he gets it off of me at the hotel. And I will make him pay for it. And the holiday operator will look after or tickets and passports, so we don’t have to worry about a thing. But we cannot come back before the two months are up. Still, slave 1 should have a good part of her story finished by then.

But he told me we have to go. So I never had time to go and say goodbye to slave 1 or take the cell door keys. We jumped into the taxi and I look back as we drive away. This is going to be one exciting time for us. But I can appreciate the hell slave 1 is going through in her cell. We caught our train and eventually reached the ship at the docks. I thought of slave 1 for one last time. There she will be in her cell with no one talking to her while we relax in sunshine. Beautiful. I feel randy already. I can’t wait to get this belt off, but I have to. If that is what I am like now, what will it be like for me in two weeks time?

The trap –Maid Jane’s story.

We have all known Mistress for some time. When she offered us these jobs of maid we all jumped at it. We never realised how evil Brigitte could be. Okay, we went along with it as the pay was good and the accommodation was excellent compared to the squat we were living in. There were leaks in the roof. Draughts everywhere, so when we got this chance we cold not thank Brigitte enough. But what happened to slave 1. I don’t know her name, appalls me. Once I knew they were on their way, and I knew that because she phoned up and sent a picture of herself and Master James and told me to put it on slave 1’s monitor. Just to let hr know she was enjoying herself. But she is in for a shock soon. So is Master James.

I told the other maids I intend releasing slave 1. But how can I do it when Brigitte can see what we are up to via the internet. That is when Sophie surprised us all. I always thought she was a dumb blonde. She showed us that she could alter the images they received. All she had to do was to get into Master James’s study and get busy. He had locked the door. Anne proved the lock was no match for her as she picked it. The door flung open and we rushed in. Sophie said that she needed to work out the codes that James had set up. It did not take long for her to break the code. It was simple. The code was “slave 1”.

She set the computer up so that if James or Brigitte looked at slave 1 or any other recording of us in the house, he would see a recording that was taken when they went away for the week end. Anne went and run a nice hot bath for slave 1. She is going to need it. I got my vibrator and took it down to slave 1’s cell. I handed it to her and she asked what good it was. That is when I produced my trump card.

“Do you remember me changing that candle to save the key from falling into the acid too early?” I asked.

“Yes, I remember everything”
Yes but you did not see what I did with the wax from the old candle. Brigitte wanted to use it to make another candle. I think she was going to keep it going for a few months, tormenting you with watching the key slowly descend into the acid where it would be lost forever”

“What has that got to do with me?”

“I never gave Brigitte the wax. I told her I had put it in the pot with the rest of the wax where it had melted. She thanked me for that”

“Get on with it”

“Well, I took an impression of the key first in the wax and I have only just managed to get a key cut by a friend of mind who has a good tool shed. Here is your key”

I handed her the key and told her we will be turning the cameras off so she can have a little privacy. She thanked me but asked if I would get in trouble. She would rather wait here still locked in the chastity belt and cell if she thought Brigitte would do the same to me. I told her not to worry. I told her what Sophie had done. I took the keys from the hooks and undid the cell door. I left her there after telling her that there will no locked doors any more. As I left I heard a buzzing and it was not long before I heard a low moan coming from the cell. I went upstairs leaving her to her well deserved relief.

A little while later, Sophie told us that she had fixed the computer to keep playing the same part of the tape of slave 1 and the rest of us while we helped slave 1 out.

We made a grand meal for us all. Jan as we found out her name was, had a nice relaxing bath in a scented bubble bath. We had poured oils in to help her get her skin back to normal. About a half hour later, she appeared. That made a lot of difference to the state of her. Anne fixed her hair for her. All she was dressed in was a robe we had given her. Still it was a lot better than that sack. I suggested she went and selected some underwear and clothes from Brigitte’s wardrobe. She is not sure, but I told her that as long as we can keep her hidden from the cameras, we are laughing. She suggests that she would use some of her underwear, but to be safe, wouldn’t it be better if she wore a maid’s uniform? Brigitte does not even look twice at a maid. As long as the curtsey is good enough, that is. The position was below her. I could not see the point, but Jan wants revenge. We all go along with it. Anne redid her hair to suit that of a maid. But now we have plans to make. That is when I dropped the bombshell.

“You know James and Brigitte both have chastity belts?” they all said they did, and thought it weird. “Well they both got each other to wear it on their holidays, I had to go and post Brigitte’s keys to the hotel in Dubai so she is kept gagging for it for two weeks and James’s keys are in her purse. Or so she thinks” I held up the keys to both the chastity belts.

“How did you get them?” asked Jan. I told her that on the way to the post office, I opened the parcel to see what was in it. I found the keys and decided that whatever they were for, it would be a shock if they found the keys were not there. I had to post the parcel to get a receipt. “I figured it was the keys to her belt as she was walking rather funny. Suppose you get used to it and adjust your stance accordingly” I said.

“But what about James’s chastity belt? It is not fair on her if he can get what he wants” Anne piped up. “I had to take the cases to the taxi. Brigitte had left her purse in her bag. I noticed it when I went to collect hers from their room. I simply removed the keys and replaced them with two similar looking keys. They should be having a nice surprise soon” I answered.

A few hours later, the phone rang. It was Brigitte. She tried looking in on the slave but could not see her. Everything was blank. She asked one of the maids to check on the slave. We sat round for a few moments and said that a circuit breaker had tripped but the slave was still in her cell. The phone went dead.

Another four hours went by and there was another frantic phone call. But this time it was from James. “What have you done with the keys to my chastity belt?” he demanded to know, but I told him I thought it was unfair on Brigitte for him to be free for two weeks while she had to go without. He was not happy, although when I told him I had posted them to Dubai. He will find the keys there. Obviously they had found that the keys in Brigitte’s purse were not the ones to James’s chastity belt. But they cannot jump off the ship to come home and look for them.

Two weeks went by. Now James and Brigitte should be coming to the hotel in the next few hours. I was right as the phone started ringing. It was Brigitte. She was screaming at the top of her voice “Where are the keys to my chastity belt?” I laughed and said they are here, along with James’s keys. They are safe in the cell with slave 1. They would have to keep theirs on until they got home, that way they will know the torment slave 1 is going through. The phone went dead.

We decided to turn off all the computers and monitors. We all dressed casually for the following six weeks, and really got to know each other. All we have to do now is sit and wait.

It did not take long before the time to pass. Before we knew it, there was Brigitte and James looking decidedly crestfallen. “Did you enjoy your holiday?” I enquired. Brigitte screamed back at me “No we bloody well didn’t. We had to keep our clothes on to save people seeing our chastity belts. And we have not had it for two months. I need it badly and I need it now. Where are the keys?” I told her she would find them in the cell. James and she rushed down to the cellar to find what we had done. They saw some keys with a large tag saying who’s keys were who’s. All they had to do was rush in and grab them. I followed them in and once they were clear, I slammed the cell door shut behind them trapping them inside the cell.

“What do you think you are playing at? Let us out of here” demanded James as they tried to get the keys to fit the locks. They realised they were not the keys to their chastity belts and tossed the keys they had to each other. By the time they realised the keys did not fit those locks either I had locked the other two locks on the door. I told them to remove their clothes, but they refused. I told them that when they were hungry they would swap their clothes for food. I turned the monitor on and left the room.

Sophie started the computer playing the blue movies again and we heard two moans from the cells. We all looked at each other and laughed.

It was two days before I found their clothes neatly folded and outside the bars of their cell. I took them and brought down two sack dresses, for them. We were not going to the bother of making the sack trousers for James. It will be a nice reminder for Brigitte to able to see his legs and occasionally get a glimpse of his chastity belt.

Anne took them down some water and some slices of bread and butter. She told them that if we had any left, she would fetch it in a doggy bag for them. But Sophie had other ideas. She said she would make them realise what they had done to Jan. She took four dogs’ bowls to the cells. They tried to get her to speak but all she said was “Jan only had herself for company. You two have each other” She mixed up some epoxy resin glue and plastered it over the base of the bowls. Then she pressed them firmly onto the ground. “In future you will eat and drink out of these. If we see you eating normally, you lose all food for a week” Then she turned and left them there.

Jan decided it was time for her to see them. She went down to the cells and confronted them. They hung their heads in shame and apologized. They begged for release, but Jan was not hearing of it. “If your maids had not taken pity on me, I would still be there eating scraps. So take your punishment like you should” She laughed, jingled the keys and went to leave. Brigitte asked how she had got the chastity belt off. Jan told her that one of the maids had a spare key cut. But she never told them it was me. Now Brigitte was to find out exactly what it is like. It would be a lot worse for her as she had more libido than Jan. So did James. That is when she said that she had sent his resignation in. They accepted it and sent everything to him at the house. Of course he was never going to see it. But it did give us a laugh seeing them on their hands and knees eating and drinking out of the bowls like a pair of dogs.

Over the weeks Jan decided that she would let them out. But they would be keeping the chastity belts on. And they will have to wear a slave collar. But she was worried about how she would keep them from running to the police. We sat around discussing it and Anne came up with the idea. “If we make them the maids, they can serve us. He would not go out dressed like that if he is a real man. Besides, if they do run to the police, we can deny it and say they demanded it. Not only that, we have the recordings they took of you and we could show the police. They would be in trouble then” she said.

We all thought it was a good idea. Jan went down and told them what our plan was. They would become our maids and if they did as they were told, the recordings they made of me would be withheld. If they reported me to the police, then the girls will say they demanded to become the maids. They agreed. Jan supplied them with the underwear and uniforms. A regular maids’ uniform for normal use and a French Maids uniform for when we have guests. The two looked at each other. They were not going to do it until Jan said that they would be allowed out of the cell. They would have a room in the attic with the other maids. It will be more comfortable than the cells. And to show she has compassion, she would allow them to take those chastity belts off. They responded immediately. They agreed with Jan’s demands. But they had to call her mistress. That hurt Brigitte.

It has been some months now. The new maids work well. We have had a party or two. Jan had invited the girl from the uniform shop. She was astonished to see the pair of then tottering around in incredibly high heels and showing their stocking tops. But they fitted in quite well. Everyone complimented them for their looks and service. Brigitte has instructed James well in the art of a curtsey. His figure looks superb as that corset has given him a nice waist line. Not only that, unbeknown to him, Brigitte or Jan, we have been feeding him female hormones s he can have his own breasts. His hair grew and


The Epilogue

A year has gone by and Jan has just told everybody she is getting married. We regular maids will be the bridesmaids and Brigitte and James can work as the maids. Her new boyfriend has an even larger house. He has just bought it and will need lots of maids to keep it clean. James and Brigitte, like us, have a job for life.

I caught Jan on the phone the other day talking to a shopkeeper. All I heard was “You would like some volunteers for your shop window to act as mannequins. Certainly, I can have two of them there next Wednesday” I don’t know who she was talking about, but I hope it is not me.