Every inch of her looked utterly professional from the well pressed suit and skirt to the perfectly aligned stockings sheathing her legs, the moderate heals, immaculately applied makeup and the crisp white blouse unbuttoned just enough to provide a hint of what lay beneath without being obscene. Striding confidently down the hallways she unconsciously raised a hand to check her hair, confirming that the blonde locks were still in their loose bun. Smiling faintly with rosy lips she paused to straighten out her cloths and brush an imaginary piece of lint from her suit coat, her grin growing just a notch as hands passed the familiar band of the chastity belt that encircled her waist. Idly she explored the edge of the stainless steel through her cloths, licking her lips ever so slightly in anticipation.

Satisfied, she took a quick breath to calm her nerves (it was an important day, after all) and reached up to gently knock on the door. No more than a few heartbeats passed before the loud click of a lock being unlatched filled the air and the door opened fully. She was expected. The figure that greeted her was the same woman as always, and yet as always she could not resist examining and studying her. The girl in the doorway was a number of years younger and her polar opposite in virtually every way. The woman in the hall bore all the signs of a professional, of a career woman, from the style of her cloths to her hair and makeup. The girl standing in the doorway was anything but. Hot pink hair with a few streaks of blonde tumbled past her shoulders, pulled back to reveal numerous piercings in her ears and framing an extremely pale face. Heavily shadowed brown eyes regarded her evenly while crimson lips, with a pair of thin rings through the lower lip, quirked into a slight smile of familiar greeting. But it was below the neck that things got truly odd.

A shiny steel collar with a small brass padlock encircled her throat, marking her status, as did similar bands around wrist and ankles, while a costume that bore a passing resemblance to a maid’s uniform covered (such as it was) her body. The plunging v-neck went nearly to her waist, leaving firm breasts capped with rosy nipples (each also pierced with a small ring) on full display. The almost criminally short skirt rose to meet the neckline, leaving the shiny stainless steel bands and brass padlocks of the chastity belt that imprisoned her sex equally on display. From that belt extended garters holding up loose fishnet stocking and rather extreme high heels. It never seemed to matter how short her own skirt or how many buttons she left open, she always felt so grossly overdressed when coming here.

“Lady Evelyn.” The girl said after a long moment, “Welcome, Mistress will be with you in a moment. Please follow me.”

Shaking herself loose from her thoughts, Evelyn smiled in greeting, “Of course, Ophelia.”

And with only that, the girl turned, leading the guest into the awaiting apartment, a similar pattern of plunging backline and lifted skirt granting full view of the riot of black lines that looked like stylized flames tattooed on her back and her sashaying ass, bisected as it was by the band of the chastity belt. Evelyn fought down a familiar feeling of arousal and followed the “maid,” closing the door behind her. As always she was struck by how utterly ordinary this place looked, hardly the apartment one would expect to find a dominatrix in. A simple, comfortable living area/dining room leading off to a galley kitchen on the side with a short hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathrooms beyond. No risqué pieces of art, no insidious devices or modified furniture, just a home, if one turned towards an odd purpose. But like her, she knew that it hid its secrets well. With a silent gesture, Ophelia pointed to a cushion set in the center of the floor of the living area and Evelyn wordlessly kneeled down upon it, clasping her hands behind her back. Before dropping her head, however, she paused to watch Ophelia walk away, presumable to summon her mistress, admiring the taut lines of the slave’s body and the sheer amount of it that was on display.

It had taken her quite awhile to piece together the aspects and relationships of this particular home, but what she had discovered was certainly interesting in its own right. She had started coming here roughly eight months ago on what was, Evelyn could admit, a bit of idle curiosity. She could still remember it, a night out with friends, drinks flowing freely and the conversation turning, as it always seemed to, toward sex. What’s the strangest thing you’ve done? The naughtiest? The most enjoyable? Most of what had been said had long since faded into complete obscurity, but one bit of conversation had been burned into her mind: bondage. Oh, she had known what it was, of course, at least a little bit and had even played around once or twice but it had never been a part of her sex life in any real way. But as her friend had elaborated and told story after story, Evelyn realized that she hadn’t understood at all, bondage was so much more than a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Curiosity had grown, as had her arousal. Exploration of the Internet had followed and, before she knew it, Evelyn was burning with a need to try it for herself, at least once. How became the tricky part, but a bit of subtle questioning and more Internet searches had revealed that there were professionals who catered to such things. It had sounded at the time a bit like prostitution, but that had actually aroused her more and so, on what surely had to have been luck of the draw, she had quite literally run in to Lady Alys at a nightclub.

In her current submissive posture, Evelyn smirked a bit. Oh, that first time had been one hell of an experience, especially when Ophelia greeted her at the door. The young slave had numerous costumes, all of them quite indecent, and on their first meeting Evelyn was sure her jaw and the floor had become quite well acquainted. She frowned slightly in thought, what exactly had it been that time? Oh right, the Catholic schoolgirl costume, probably the least indecent of them all, relatively speaking. But that had only been the first of a night of shocks. Alys, as she had discovered, was every bit as eccentric as her slave. Taller, curvier, but just as pale, the young mistress moved like a tiger, every step charged with sensuality, with power, her exotic appearance giving her an odd, dangerous sort of beauty. But on that first meeting it had been the byplay between the two that caught her attention. At first, Evelyn had assumed that Ophelia was an assistant, an employee who acted and dressed in such a manner to add ambiance to the performance, a bit of window dressing in a way. But when she had seen that look in Alys’ sea green eyes when she gazed at her slave, or Ophelia’s utter adoration of her mistress it was impossible for them to be mistaken for anything but two people deeply in love, if an unconventional love. She could admit to herself that, right then, she had not really understood, but in addition to everything else Alys was also very, very good at what she did. Understanding had come soon enough under those clever hands.

It was only curiosity that brought her here that first time, and Alys had seen that. In fact, it as downright scary just how good that young woman was at reading people. As if compelled, Evelyn felt the need to confess the truth then and there, half fearing that she would somehow offend the powerful woman she was kneeling before. Of course, Alys was a professional rendering a service and was far from offended. Rather, she proceeded, with a smirk, to educate her newest client.

The experience was indescribable, that really was the only word Evelyn could find for what had happened and she had been searching for a long time. Being stripped and bound, being utterly dominated had been a major turn on in and of itself, but it was more than that. Somehow, inexplicable, the stress and tension she felt constantly, the crushing weight of authority and responsibility she bore seemed to evaporate, vanishing like a mist as she gave up control. It was relaxing in some strange way, a release that was almost sexual in its own right. There were no words, there still weren’t, she just knew that it felt good. Oh so very good. As she was bound and punished Alys worked her flesh with obscene precision, made her body sing with all the skill of a maestro guiding an orchestra. And just when Evelyn was sure that there was nothing else, no higher peak or plateau that she could be forced to reach; Alys fucked her as a final act.

It had been one of the most intense orgasms of her entire life as well as her first time with a woman. Not quite enough to make her wear a pin and declare herself a card-carrying lesbian, but enough to make her think. As soon as the gag was out of her mouth she scheduled a second appointment.

And so it had continued ever since. Each week she arrived here at exactly the same time and spent what felt like hours in bound bliss as Alys initiated her into ever more intense forms of bondage. Proving that not only were there higher peaks but that the surface had barely been scratched. About six months ago, however, things had changed yet again when, as she arrived for her weekly appointment, Evelyn had brought a box with her. Over time she had grown curious about something in particular, namely Ophelia’s chastity belt. It, along with her collar, were the only two things she always wore and Evelyn had learned that the girl not only literally lived in the thing, but that she had been doing so for a number of years. Never one to think overmuch of curious cats, she had purchased one for herself and experimented just a bit. It was a strange feeling, but an interesting one, one that she had felt was worth exploring in more detail. Alys had been highly amused at that, but nevertheless had locked it on and agreed to keep the keys. In retrospect that had been one of the hardest things she had ever had to do. Learning how to move all over again, learning to tolerate the belt, clean the belt, or deal with the near constant arousal that being locked in steel and unable to masturbate had brought on, but Evelyn had adapted. And she had adapted again when Alys introduced new toys (toys that Ophelia endured), a large stainless steel dildo that filled her utterly along with a plug that doubled as an enema nozzle and (worst of all) a tiny loop of wire covered in soft rubber that her clit rode in like a stirrup, keeping her on the edge of orgasm constantly but never letting her over. How many nights had she spent crying in utter frustration as that devious little clip had tortured her?

It was hell, it was bliss, it was everything she had come to crave.

And for all the hardships Evelyn had come to relish her chastity belt, the way it made her feel, the way it allowed her to carry a bit of her bondage everywhere not to mention the truly epic orgasms she had during her weekly release and cleaning. Somewhere along the way, though, weekly release had become monthly release and then, three months ago, an experiment had begun and she stopped enjoying release at all. The belt was still removed for cleaning once a week, but now instead of being pleasured she was teased relentlessly by Ophelia’s obscenely skill tongue, ridden hard and locked up very wet. If not for the fact that she knew Ophelia received the same torments from Alys, Evelyn would swear she was horniest woman alive. Even then it might still be true. But tonight, tonight things would change again.

“Woolgathering, my pretty one?”

Evelyn stiffened slightly before forcing herself to relax. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she failed to notice Mistress Alys arrive. Keeping her eyes firmly on the floor she forced her voice to stay steady, “My apologies, mistress.”

“Forgiven.” The voice called back, almost flippantly, while the sound of bare feed padding across carpet announced her approach.

Cautiously, Evelyn allowed herself to look up, a burning curiosity filling her mind as to what her mistress looked like this night. Often the costume provided some slender insight into what was planned, though it had taken a long time for her to piece together those clues. When blue eyes at last dared look up, she felt her throat go dry. Alys was completely naked, every inch of her slender, curvaceous body on full display, her pale skin practically glowing beneath the lights. Evelyn wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, truth be told, Alys always wore some type of costume. Completely unconcerned by the look or her own lack of clothing, Alys began to circle her, like a wolf studying its prey, idly caressing said prey with the riding crop she was carrying.

“Remove your jacket.”

Wordlessly Evelyn did so, abandoning all thoughts as she carefully folded the cloth before setting it aside. Alys did not tolerate sloppiness from her subs.

Circling around front again, Alys used the riding crop to open the blonde’s blouse just a bit more, “No bra.” She commended, tonelessly.

“As you commanded, mistress.”

“Indeed, indeed. Remove the rest, but leave the stockings and the shoes.”

Again, Evelyn knew better than to speak while she was obeying her mistress. With practiced fingers she untucked her blouse and opened all of the buttons, shucking off the garment and setting it upon her coat. The skirt followed quickly, leaving her clad only in the chastity belt. Although it had been designed to remain unobtrusive beneath clothing, she was still required to wear her cloths just a bit looser to hide the belt; as such most of her everyday wear did not truly emphasize her narrow waist or impressive bust. Freed from such constraints her taut, tanned flesh fully displayed its beauty. Clucking her tongue idly, Alys continued to circle, occasionally granting Evelyn a view of the tattoos that covered most of her body, particularly the stark tribal pattern that ran from foot to fingernails on her right side and the Japanese print from thigh to wrist on her left. It also put the kneeling sub at the perfect height to view her mistress’ cleanly shaven sex and the truly staggering number of intimate piercings she had, the slender stainless steel rings glinting amid pink flesh. Evelyn swallowed, hard.

Alys seemed not to notice, “Rise, hands behind your back.”

Instantly she stood, clasping her wrists and keeping her eyes firmly on the floor. For several seconds nothing happened, then Evelyn gasped as a pair of hands found her. Humming to herself, Alys began to explore the sub’s body, running her hands up and down toned arms and gliding along her rib cage before exploring a flat stomach and the generous curves of her ass. Evelyn gasped again, feeling her nipples go even harder as those hands found her breasts, teasing and kneading softly, yet insistently, as hot breath passed over her exposed neck and another pair of breasts pressed against her arms, hard nipples and the rings piercing them scrapping against her skin. A soft kiss touched her shoulder before a softer whisper reached her ears.

“Ophelia, bring them.”

Evelyn’s attention was again drawn up as the pink-haired slave returned, still clad in her outrageous uniform, carrying a box in both hands. The girl glided up to her side and bowed her head to her mistress, presenting the box wordlessly. Alys perused the still hidden contents for several moments before she decided what she wanted. Out of the corner of her eye Evelyn saw her retrieve a black leather monoglove. Closing her eyes she simply felt, offering no resistance as her mistress slipped the glove over her arms and zipping it up tight before pulling the straps over her shoulders, crossing them between her beasts, and buckling them. She gave only the slightest gasp as the glove was tightened, forcing her elbows together. It had taken a long time before she was flexible enough to manage that for more than a few seconds, but given the way that if forced out her breasts the effort was well worth it. Her eyes opened again when she felt something gliding gently up her stomach only to see her mistress teasing her by rubbing the gag against her body. Without command, Evelyn opened her mouth and accepted the cherry red ball, feeling it click tightly behind her teeth, grunting slightly as the strap was tightened brutally. She had worn larger and more extreme gags, but this one was the perfect mix of comfort and fullness, and the sensation of having her mouth packed just made her wet. Well, wetter anyway.

Suddenly, Alys spun her around and Evelyn had to concentrate for a moment to keep her balance on high heels before she found herself looking into her mistress’ face, kohl rimmed eyes cutting through her. Silently she studied that face, as always the same yet subtly different. Wild, raven dark hair with streaks of platinum blonde in the bangs framed her pale face and flowed down her back, but unlike Ophelia’s, which was only just past shoulder length, her hair fell almost half way down her back. A ring passed through her left nostril and three slightly larger rings studded her lower lip, lips painted a red so deep it appeared black and twisted into a small grin, just revealing a hint of straight, white teeth. Leaning in she pressed a tiny kiss to the ball filling Evelyn’s mouth and parted her lips to speak, revealing evidence of a pair of tongue studs.

“Almost ready.”

Presenting a palm, Ophelia silently pressed a key to her mistress’ hand and Evelyn quivered in anticipation as Alys began to unlock her chastity belt. With a small click the first padlock opened, allowing the secondary shield to be removed, making her shiver just a bit as cool air caressed her slit. The clit clip was removed next, making Evelyn sigh in relief as that little monster vanished, disappearing into the box with the other parts of her belt. At last the main lock was opened and Evelyn moaned in a mixture of pleasure and longing as the plugs that had filled her for so long were removed. In a way it always felt so strange, after being full for so long, to be suddenly empty. Alys was not done yet, though. Silently she slipped behind the sub and Evelyn gasped again as a corset was presented and wrapped around her waist, the half-cups lifting and separating her breasts to an even greater degree. A gasp became a moan as Alys began to tighten it crushingly, driving the air from her lungs and forcing her already wasp-waisted body into an almost impossible hourglass. Stepping around front again, Alys’ grin was triumphant as she secured the last piece, a leather collar and stepped back to admire the flushed and panting woman before her.

Raising a hand to her chin, the young mistress began to contemplate, “Still something missing, I think.” Stepping closer again she released Evelyn’s hair from its bun, allowing honey-gold hair to fall about her shoulders. Gently brushing a few strands from the sub’s face she grinned again. “Perfect. Ophelia, see to those things while we begin.”

Bowing her head again, Ophelia responded softly, “Yes, mistress.” before walking away to complete her task. Evelyn watched her go again before a short, sharp swat to her ass made her jump and returned her attention to her mistress.

Looping a finger through the ring on her collar, Alys pulled gently, “This way, my pretty one.”

She was led to the hallway that opened up into the deeper areas of the apartment. The door on the left, she knew, led to the large bedroom shared by Alys and Ophelia and of the two doors on the right the first, she also knew, was the bathroom, a rather conventional white tile affair. The second door was almost always closed, but once or twice she had seen hints, bookshelves and what looked like a desk, enough to convince her it was an office of sorts. But the door at the very end of the hallway she knew quite well, Alys’ playroom and the door was wide open in all its glory. Hooks and chains on the ceiling and walls, chests filled with toys, a closet full of fetish gear and numerous other devices that Alys had constructed or acquired. Evelyn knew that she had barely experienced even half of what the room had to offer, and doubted she ever would, but just the sight of it made her heart pound in anticipation. Strangely enough, something new had been added. A long hemp rope with knots tied every foot or so had been secured to one of the walls and stretched out on the floor, into the hallway and back to the front wall. A rope that Alys guided her to step over, leaving it between her legs.

When Alys began to tighten the rope, pulling it upward, Evelyn instantly knew what it was meant for and tried to stand up on her tip toes to escape it, but it was useless, her mistress just kept pulling it higher until the rough rope was pulled tight against her and practically disappeared into her overly sensitive sex. She winced slightly, in a mix of pain and pleasure, as the rough cord scraped against her. Seemingly unconcerned, Alys straddled the rope herself and reached out, taking a generous breast in each hand and fondling roughly. Evelyn couldn’t help herself, she mewled in pleasure under the sensation, gasping and then moaning as dark lips then took a nipple between them and began to suck. So lost was she in pleasure that she barely noticed when Alys switched breasts, teasing her other nipple to rock hardness. She suddenly screamed, eyes snapping open as her mistress took the opportunity to attach a clover clamp to the free breast. Grinning triumphantly, Alys looped her finger through the collar again and forced the sub to bend over, using her free hand to loop the other clamp and its chain under the rope and snap it into place, eliciting another lovely, muffled scream. Evelyn tried to twist out of the way, but the iron grip on her collar made that impossible and now she was stuck like this. Arms bound behind her back, balanced on a crotch rope with nipple clamps forcing her to bend over sharply.

A sudden swat on her now very vulnerable ass with the riding crop made her squeal in surprise and jump, wincing as the movement put pressure on her clamps. Alys just grinned at it all, “March, my pretty one.”

Steeling herself, Evelyn took a step, face contorting and teeth biting harshly into the gag as she scraped against he rope. This was nothing at all like struggling against a crotch rope until blessed relief came, this was pure torture. She jumped again when Alys caned her a second time.

“I said, march!”

The playful lilt was gone, replaced with a colder, commanding tone that brooked no arguments. It was a tone that always excited her and frightened her in equal measures. Taking deep breaths through her nose, Evelyn forced herself to keep walking and forced herself not to jerk as her mistress continued to crop her for moving too slowly. Just the rope was bad enough but she actually screamed into the gag as the first knot was pulled through her slit, and, she noted with a creeping fear, there were a lot of knots. It was like walking the gauntlet, the hallway seeming to stretch onto from feet into miles as she pulled herself along the rope, moaning and occasionally screaming in pain as the knots caught her, or her clamps became stuck and pulled harshly on her nipples, the short, sharp blows of the riding crop forcing her to keep taking step after step when she wanted nothing more than to stop. When, at long last, she stood in the center of the play room, Evelyn’s eyes were glazed over in a heady mixture of agony and arousal, tears building as her red, raw sex throbbed in time with her heart and a trail of glistening fluids marked her passage along the rope. When Alys at last untied said rope and let it fall to the floor, she almost collapsed in relief, but mistress then cupped her agonized pussy and squeezed, making her wince and cry out softly into the gag.

“I see that got a response, eh my pretty one?” Alys whispered, “You’re so wet, so ready,” those lips almost touched her ear, “so eager. How about this?”

Evelyn cried out in shock as mistress suddenly grabbed the heavy ring at the end of the monoglove and pulled it up harshly, clipping it to a short chain that hung from the ceiling, forcing her into a stappado. Kneeling down beneath her, Evelyn could only watch as Alys threaded the rope out from between the chain of the clamps and then proceeded to tie a piece of string to them, threading it through an eye bolt in the floor before tying it off tightly, stretching her nipples painfully. She could do not but mewl into the gag and try to keep perfectly still.

Long, tense moments passed as nothing happened, ratcheting up the tension in her gut as well as increasing her already sky high arousal another notch. Anticipation could be the worst kind of torture and Alys was a master of it. A sudden hand touching her ass made her jump slightly in shock, but the insistent tug of the clamps forced her to master the reaction quickly. From experience she knew that the clamps would come off if pulled too hard, and while such an occurrence wouldn’t actually damage her, it would hurt like hell. Alys had a habit (or maybe it was a fetish?) of ripping off clamps at the moment of climax. For now, however, the hand on her rear just caresses her skin softly, nails scratching at her flesh, but not painfully, not yet. Breathing hard she could only wait. Pain came soon enough when said hand retreated and slapped the globe of flesh, hard. Evelyn winced at the attention, involuntarily pulling away from the sensation before the clamps forced her back. Her wince grew in intensity, as did her struggles, as the spanking continued, the push and pull of the two sources of pain forced her to fight down her normal reaction. What felt like an eternity passed, blow after blow raining down upon her until cries of pain were able to escape her tightly gagged mouth but then, as inexplicably as it had begun, the spanking stopped.

Several more heartbeats passed as Evelyn hung there, caught between her sore ass and throbbing nipples, faint tear tracks running down her cheeks to meet the drool that she could not stop from flowing down her chin.

The sudden *crack* of a leather strap against the air made her whimper and close her eyes tightly. Almost hyperventilating she practically screamed as a hand touched her ass again, but it was still gentle. She almost, almost convinced herself that nothing would happen as those fingers caressed her softly, as if trying to sooth her pain before the strap slammed into her thighs, making her scream loudly and jerk in her bonds, eliciting an overlapping scream of even greater intensity as the clamps tightened brutally beneath the pressure. A second blow followed hot on the heels of the first, moving up slightly while a third just seconds later found her already red cheeks. Evelyn couldn’t help herself, couldn’t keep still in the face of this torment as she fought desperately against her bonds, instinctively trying to escape as Alys whipped her. At some point one of the clamps pulled off and she screamed, but the pain was lost, barely a side note really, in the symphony of agony screaming through her flesh. Alys like to leave marks, nothing permanent of course, nothing damaging, but welts and bruises and red skin that left no doubt that you’d been punished, claimed.

The whipping stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and Evelyn collapsed into her bonds, drooling uncontrollably with tears running down her cheeks. She whimpered as Alys again began to run her hands along the sub’s waist, caressing the welts and bruises on her thighs and rump. When said hands reached between her thighs, to the trail of fluids that was practically pouring from her, a smirk decorated the dominatrix’s pale face, though Evelyn couldn’t see it.

“You naughty little slut, getting off on that.”

Evelyn blushed fiercely, but said nothing, only to screech loudly into her gag as Alys brought a cane down, hard, against her already bruised flesh. Jerking uncontrollable in her bonds she ripped the second clamp free and, for a brief, wide-eyed moment nothing seemed to happen before the pain hit then she screeched like a banshee, even through the gag her screams reaching an almost impossible octave before she collapsed again, sobbing as she danged from the ceiling by her wrists. Once more her mistress’ gentle, cruel hands slipped between her thighs and softly probed her glistening sex, parting her lips and caressing her hard and eager clit.

“That definitely got a response.”

Padding softly around front of the sub, Alys rummaged through a draw for another toy, holding up the strap-on almost triumphantly before grinning wickedly in Evelyn’s direction. Slowly, sensuously, as if putting on a show (and Evenly figured she was, even if it was for an audience of one) the dominatrix buckled herself in. Moaning softly as the plugs slid into her body, front and back and hissing slightly as she tightened the straps tightly, the leather bands leaving deep indentations in her flesh. Standing there in the faint light, eyes smoldering and with that wicked grin still in place, Alys began to stroke the massive dildo as if masturbating. It was an odd affectation that she had, Evenly had noticed, but there was something so wonderfully erotic about it that never failed to make her even hornier. Walking foreword Alys again kneeled before the sub, looking her straight in the eye before taking Evelyn’s face between her hands and pressing a soft kiss to her gag.

“Ready?”

A shaky nod answered her and Alys’ grin widened a notch as she reached down to retrieve the clamps. Evelyn groaned in protest and tried to pull away, but Alys grabbed a breast and twisted it brutally, pulling another scream from her and forcing her to stay in place as she clamped one nipple and then the other. Fresh tears pouring down her face again, Evelyn watched as Alys stood once more and circled around behind her. A hand once again slipped between her thighs to gather some of her fluids, using them to lubricate the toy before Alys pressed it against her. Evelyn bit the gag again; wincing as the dominatrix began to slowly, incrementally, shove the dildo up her ass. It was another first that she had given to this woman and not her favorite position by any means. Not exactly painful, at least any longer, though the odd sensation of being slowly filled like that was one she had never really gotten used to. More than that, no matter how hard or how long she was fucked up the ass she never could cum like that, which was probably the point anyway. Filled with vibrating plugs front and back, that wasn’t a problem, Alys would have. At last, with a small grunt, the dildo was fully sheathed inside of her and Alys’ hands found her waist.

“We’re going to be trying something just a bit different, my pretty one.” She said, smirk evident in her tone, “It’s time, I think, for you to show me your appreciation. Fuck me and show me just how much you care.” She frowned, heavily at the answering moan and tightened her grip enough to elicit a cry, “I don’t care about the clamps!” A sharp smack, “Get those hips moving!”

Groaning slightly, Evelyn shifted her body foreword, wincing at the first tug of the clamps before drawing back to re-impale herself on the dildo, repeating the process again, slowly and carefully. Too slowly as Alys slapped her already brutalized ass, making her flinch against her bonds and cry out into the gag.

“Faster, you stupid bitch!”

And so she began to move faster, groaning with each passage as the clover clamps tormented her, trying her best to strike a balance between moving at an acceptable speed and minimizing her discomfort. It didn’t really work. The steady slap of flesh against flesh continued, faster and faster as she began to get into it, moaning on each downstroke as the dildo filled her and groaning on the upstroke as the clamps were pulled tight. Guided by Alys’ hands, the strokes grew longer and longer, forcing more and more pressure onto her breasts but at the same time stoking the fires within her. Quickly enough Evelyn was moaning in a potent mixture of pleasure, pain and frustration. Alys’ breath was harsh behind her, moans and soft cried escaping her throat as the vibrators worked her ever closer to orgasm, yet did nothing for the sub. Almost coincidentally, Evelyn happened to look up and saw that Ophelia had returned, standing in the doorway like a sentinel, silent but with a tiny smile. For a brief instant before the sensations drew her back into the sea of frustrated arousal, she idly wondered what it was like for the slave. To watch her mistress, a woman she clearly loved, have sex with others. And yet there was no malice, no jealously or pain or any of the emotions she would have expected to see in those eyes, just an odd sort of serenity. Was it simple acceptance, resignation? Or was it, perhaps, that Ophelia knew that she shared something special with her mistress, something that Alys would never share with another? There was, Evelyn could admit, a strange bond between the two woman that she only barely fathomed.

Any introspection suddenly died when Alys’ hands tightened painfully around her waist and pulled her back hard, the domme’s own hips beginning to move in time with them. She was close, she was very close. Evelyn could not but moan herself, and cry out as the clamps pulled so harshly she was afraid they would pop off again as Alys began to set a brutal pace, their bodies slamming together as her mistress twitched, breath ragged and moans loud in the tiny room as she rode the edge of climax. A bare handful of heartbeats passed before the young mistress’ orgasm exploded and she buried the dildo to the hilt, throwing back her head and screaming in ecstasy. It took a long moment before Alys came down, still panting, body and breath twitching with aftershocks before she slowly released her hands, faint bruises the shape of handprints now marring Evelyn’s waist, and pulled back. The incredibly horny yet utterly exhausted sub just groaned at the sudden emptiness and collapsed into her bonds.

Caught by surprise, Evelyn shrieked as the lock binding her wrists to the ceiling was opened and she collapsed onto the floor, crying out as she landed, painfully, on her knees. A hand twisted into her hair hauled her upright and forced her gaze back to her mistress standing before her. With her free hand Alys reached down and unbuckled the gag, letting Evelyn push it out with her tongue, the sub sighing in relief and licking her lips clean. Still holding her hair tightly, Alys then proceeded to slowly unbuckle the strap-on and pull it free from her own body, revealing her damp and glistening sex. For a moment Evelyn was sure that Alys would demand oral pleasure, but she did not. Instead, the hand holding her hair released and her mistress slowly kneeled down in front of her. Again those soft yet cruel hands took her face between them as Alys pressed a tiny kiss to her nose. Idly she began to stroke the sub’s face with her thumbs.

“It’s time, my pretty one, for you to decide.”

Decide? For an instant Evelyn could not understand what she was talking about until her thoughts straightened themselves out and escaped the overwhelming desire to cum that still dominated her. The experiment! Her three months in chastity, it was time now to decide the course that the future would take. Staring into her mistress’ eyes, Evenly found that her mouth refused to form words. On the one hand, she could say no, end the experiment right here and finally experience the release that her flesh so craved. As good as she was with pain, Alys was equally good with pleasure and if that was the choice Evenly knew she would spend the rest of her time here in a haze of orgasmic bliss. And yet... And yet, on the other hand, she could say yes and bring the experiment to its ultimate conclusion. To complete that which her soul called out for, to take up Ophelia’s burden, to embrace chastity full and abandon pleasure. Worrying her lip, Evelyn closed her eyes; feeling tears run down her cheeks as she struggled with her indecision. At some point Alys removed her hands, but she barely noticed.

At last, still unable to open her eyes, Evelyn answered in a tiny voice, quavering with a strange mix of apprehension and certainty, “Lock me up, mistress. Lock me up and never let me go.”

“It would be our pleasure.” A different voice responded.

Shocked, Evelyn snapped her eyes open only to find that Ophelia was now kneeling on eye level with her, Alys standing in the doorway, arms crossed below her breasts with an amused smirk twisting those dark lips. A smirk that was mirrored with Ophelia’s own crimson smile.

“You know,” she said, almost casually, “when I accepted my belt, those were almost my exact words.”

Evelyn blinked several times as a tapping on her shoulder brought her out of the rather pleasant daydream, memory really, and back into the real world. Ah yes, the same old boring conference room with the same old boring people and, of course, the same old boring presentations. No wonder her thoughts had drifted. Glancing to her left at the co-worker who had shaken her “awake” she waved off the concerned expression. He nodded, glancing toward the current speaker (who was not saying anything that wasn’t in the reports that they had all read anyway), and offered a look of sympathy before settling back in to look attentive. Evelyn had to choke back a small laugh, if only they knew, if only any of them had any idea... Still grinning a bit, she leaned back, feeling the motion push the plug in her ass in just a bit more deeply. A hot flush of erotic embarrassment filled her, tingling her skin just slightly before she pushed it back, forcing herself yet again to accept one of the indignities that had become part of her life.

It had only been a few weeks since her locking had become more of less indefinite, but the memories of that night still weighed on her heavily. The chastity belt imprisoning her loins ever present proof of that. It was not exactly uncomfortable, but it was unforgettable, its presence always making itself known as the smooth metal moved with and against her body, not to mention the plugs that filled her front and back and, of course, that cursed clit clip... Who would have thought that a tiny piece of wire had the power to turn her into a gibbering, sobbing wreck, desperately trying to masturbate only to find that her futile bid for relief made it worse rather than better? How did Ophelia stand it? Being locked up for years, day in day out enduring these same torturous, if wonderfully erotic, torments while being constantly teased by an over-eager mistress who demanded much pleasure in return? The amount of self-control (or masochism) involved was truly daunting, and a bit frightening. Still, the die had been cast, as Caesar once said; there was no going back. Although, thinking of that night did bring a little smile to her face and another flush to her skin.

Ophelia had taken the reigns for the rest of the night, making it something of a surreal experience for Evelyn, to be dominated by a slave. Although it just went to show, she supposed, that everyone had a little dominant streak and that maybe; just maybe, mistress and slave both had a more active role in these little games than she had realized. Taking utter advantage of her shock, Ophelia had re-gagged her and led her by the collar into the bathroom before removing it. In fact, everything but the gag had been removed so that her hands could be bound with old-fashioned rope. The pieces of her chastity belt had been disassembled and laid out on a towel to dry, having been washed and disinfected and now Evelyn herself received the same treatment. With skill and precision that proved to be torturously pleasurable in its own way, Ophelia had placed her in the bathtub and sponged her down thoroughly. That in and of itself was not unusual, but Evelyn had been monstrously horny at the time and so the sensations of the sponge and soap against her sex had been almost overwhelming. And as if that wasn’t enough, when bath time finished Ophelia decided to reward the sub with a bit of oral sex and that wonderfully wicked pierced tongue of hers. Evelyn hadn’t cared though; she’d just sat there on the edge of the tub, moaning helplessly in to her gag, and spread her legs as far as they would go. For a split second she had forgotten all about chastity and hoped that she was about to experience the mother of all orgasms, a blissful, explosive release of three months of tension and a long night of punishment when Ophelia had stopped.

She had screamed in frustration, begging, pleading as best she could, just as she always did, but Ophelia heard none of it, or rather cared not at all for it. The look in her eye said it all, ‘You choose. I have to, you have to.’ And, for the second time that night, Evelyn found herself bound helplessly, this time from a bathroom ceiling as a sex slave with hot pink hair methodically locked her into a chastity belt, her hungry flesh swallowing the plugs in some desperate hope of pleasure, but to no avail. Sobbing for a different reason, Evelyn was led out of the bathroom, lost in a sea of paradoxical sensations. Happiness and sadness, anger and relief, desperation and contentment and a thousand other things she could not identify at the time. All she knew was that she was forced to watch as Ophelia handcuffed herself, sunk to her knees beside her and, together, they spent the rest of what seemed like a very long night eating out their mistress. And, of course, Alys had taken no pains to hide her pleasure from them.

She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep that night after going home, hell the incessant stimulation of the belt and its toys against her already hyper-stimulated sex made it difficult to walk, and she’d had to call in sick the next day. She had gotten used to it though. Well, more used to it anyway. Those first few days had been bad, really bad, bad enough that she had almost called Alys and begged to be unlocked. Alys would have done it, she knew that, but Evelyn just couldn’t make herself do it. Later, she realized that she would have been disappointed in herself if she had done such a thing. But it also confused her why she was having such trouble. She’d been wearing this belt, with these toys, off and on for over six months before this decision had been made and it hadn’t been nearly this hard. Ultimately it had been Ophelia that helped her put things into perspective and she had chatted with the young woman once or twice in the so-called “real world” since then. It had seemed so incongruous, to chat about such things in a coffee shop, a well-dressed businesswoman sitting across from what looked like the bastard child of a goth girl and a punk rocker. Ophelia hadn’t much cared though, but Evelyn supposed that when you have photos on the Internet of yourself in some extremely compromising positions being embarrassed about your hair color or some body piercing was probably the last thing that you worried about.

‘It’s most likely a matter of perspective.’ Ophelia had explained, sipping her coffee. ‘Before it was always like a challenge. If I last X number of days then I’ll get a reward, but there’s no light at the end of this tunnel, at least not for a long way off.’ She had looked sympathetic then. ‘If it’s too much, you can stop. Our world isn’t for everyone, even those who are interested, and this isn’t some dark fantasy about the wicked mistress who holds you against your will. She won’t say no.’

There had been no reason to elaborate over who “she” was, but still... ‘I just feel that I’ll be disappointing myself if I stop.’ Evelyn admitted, unable to truly elaborate as to why before she suddenly blurted out, ‘How do you stand it?’

She had actually been rather embarrassed that she had asked such a thing, but Ophelia just smiled, the silver rings in her lower lip an odd contrast to her darker lipstick, ‘I like having it stretched out. I love it when a lover takes me to the peak and holds me there for as long as possible before cresting.’ She blushed, just a bit and hugged herself, trembling slightly as she relived some pleasant memory. ‘Alys is very good at that, very, very good and so am I.’ She looked up and the two met eye to eye, ‘But now I’ve been on the edge for four years and it shows no sign of stopping. I can’t think of a more precious gift my mistress could give me. And besides, she takes such great pleasure from being in control of my body, how could I deny her?’ She had paused then and looked her companion hard in the eye, ‘But you need to decide for yourself why you’re doing this and only then can you decide to stop, or not.’

That had helped, that had helped a lot, changing her perspective, looking at things from a different angle. Searching herself and her own motivations had been harder, but not so long ago Evelyn had finally had her epiphany. The bondage and confinement was nice, very nice and she could almost get off on the pain (even if it was never quite enough), but in truth it was all about control for her. In her life she had a lot of it, here, home, everywhere it seemed and that control could be crushing. The stress, the responsibility, the headaches all of it. Loosing control hadn’t destroyed her as she feared it might. No, surrendering it had completed her, relaxed and invigorated her as she gave up control of herself to another, pushing all of it onto someone else’s shoulders. Someone who agreed to carry it for her, for a little while at least. That was at the very core of it all. Smile still plastered in place as she listened to the droning speech with half an ear, Evelyn set her hands on her lap, taking the opportunity to caress the stainless steel waistband beneath her blouse. Her chastity belt. She loved it and she hated it, this ultimate symbol of her surrender, this harsh control of her body. Of course, the fact that it kept her hornier than a bitch in heat might be a larger reason.

Perhaps, just perhaps, she needed more. Perhaps she needed what Ophelia had found, that strange bond that she could never really figure out. Someone to whom she could give control, someone who was strong enough to keep it and keep her might be just what the doctor ordered. Running a finger along the edge of the chastity belt again, she smirked slightly. This could, and had, make personal relationship just a bit more challenging. Since her exploration into bondage she’d only really had one serious relationship and it hadn’t survived. Lack of sex, it turned out, was harder on her boyfriend than it was on her, even though she’d offered to give him a blowjob pretty much whenever he wanted. Cumming vicariously might not be much, but it was something. The BDSM thing, she supposed, wasn’t for everyone. But then again it might also aid in her search for a master, or a mistress. Maybe Ophelia could give her some advice.

It should prove to be interesting, if nothing else.