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The Witch House
Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2016 1:09 pm
In case some have not seen the thread. This storiy is inspired by an idea and I have been given free reign. I welcome comments and suggetions. This is the prologue, the 1s chapter will follow
Angela willed herself not to climax but it was no use. The vibrations were as much a part of her as a limb or organ and even if her hands were free to move they would not have been able to remove or affect the stimulation. Her tormentor was tuned to her deepest needs and vulnerabilities. Her cries of despair were muffled by the padding in her mouth that was as immovable as the ties that bound her. She basked in the glorious immobility as her body tried to buck and convulse. She would pass out and awake as if nothing had happened. Even time almost stood still. She was convinced that she had been bound for many hours and yet it will have been one hour, no more and no less. There would be no marks or evidence of binding or duress only the glow of satisfaction from orgasms the like of which she could never have conceived before. Even so she always tried to resist. Not because she did not enjoy the climax, but because the journey was equally if not more exciting and the orgasms meant journey's end.
She stood up. She was naked, of course but the room temperature was comfortable and there were no windows in this room that might reveal her nakedness to others. Not that there was anybody else in the house. And the privacy of the house was protected by the mature garden and high walls.
It was time to go out. A pity, but, despite all the magic, she must be seen to live a normal life, whatever that might actually be. The last thing she needed was for some concerned friend or family member to come looking for her. True, the house looked perfectly normal, and she had entertained both family and friends, formally and informally but the secret must remain with her or it would be lost. John was waiting, She liked him, but it could never get beyond frindship. Not as long as she lived in the Witch's House.
Re: The Witch House
Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2016 1:10 pm
It was called the Witch's House and had the looks to match. Rumour had it that a long line of witches had lived there, or maybe it was just one, but now it stood empty. No one wanted it. The price really was steal and Angela had not believed her luck. She had been desperate to move out of her parent's house but, despite a good job and a higher than average income it was almost impossible to get a foot onto the property ladder, especially so close to central Birmingham. It was almost as if the house had called to her. She had never been in this area before and only chance, or so she thought, had taken her along this quiet back street. She had seen the for sale board, almost camouflaged by the huge Oak tree by the gate. Why she had even bothered to find out more beggared belief. The estate agent had virtually begged her to take it. Even more amazing was that she could actually afford it, just.
Her parents had not believed it either.
"What do you need such a big house for? You will rattle around in it and it will cost a fortune to keep." Her mother had complained.
"It's not that big, only three bedrooms, kitchen, dining room and lounge." she had answered defensively. "I am sure I can pick up some furniture from the charity shop and besides there are a couple of bits left behind by the previous owner."
"That's not what I meant. Why do you need to move out at all?"
"Oh mother! I can't live here for the rest of my life, but I will come and see you and maybe scrounge the odd Sunday lunch or something."
"That's settled then, I will expect you for Sunday lunch."
Angela had looked pleadingly at her father but to no avail.
"I suppose you will need me to decorate," he had said.
"Actually it doesn't look too bad. A little dusty, but nothing that a good spring clean will not sort."
They had insisted on helping her move in and roped in a few friends and neighbours to scrub it up. Then, with some generous donations and a few smart buys she had got the place looking presentable. She then threw a house warming party for all and sundry which meant another day's cleaning but eventually she was able to shut the front door, make a coffee and put her feet up in her own lounge. And it felt good,
Angela was 23. She was average height and build, not too fat or thin and presentable attributes. Her hair was a natural blond which she kept around shoulder length. Her single status was as much due to her taste in men as it was her desirability. She was strong minded yet secretly desired to be dominated, but as yet, no one had managed to penetrate her bravado and assertiveness. She had known John since childhood and everybody had already married them off, but neither he nor she had got passed the talking stage, They enjoyed each other's company but more like brother and sister than lovers. She was not a virgin, but that was more due to teenage naivety than serious dating. The whole episode had been both clumsy and painful and not in the least like something she wanted to repeat. She had got to know herself though, and her friendly vibrator was in the bedside cabinet upstairs waiting for her.
She relaxed, her eyes wandering around the unfamiliar lounge when a glimpse of light caught her eye. A light where there should not be one. It was coming from a crack in the panelling. She put her cup down and went for a closer look. Without warning the panel opened. There was a room with what appeared to be a bare light bulb. Her first reaction was to turn and run but curiosity got the better of her.
It was almost inaudible. Definitely female. Soft, and almost enticingly gentle.
"Who are you?"
"Come in, and I will show you."
That sounded like a trap if ever there was one. A door she did not open might well shut on its own as well.
"Show yourself," she demanded
"That is not how it works," came the unhelpful reply.
"Why should I trust you?"
"You bought the house didn't you?"
She took a step closer. The room looked bare with a simple table in the middle. On it was something that looked familiar. She took a step closer. Surely not!
"Yes it is" the voice said.
"I hadn't said anything. How do you know what I was thinking?"
"I knew your name?"
"Who are you?" It was more of a plea now than a demand.
"Look on the wall."
There was a picture. She had not seen it. Maybe it had not been there? It was of a woman, She was comely in a medieval sort of way. Her eyes were bright but her clothes were dowdy. The hat said witch.
"I am the spirit of this house. I have no form but this house does my bidding. I can move things, create things, change things even stop time itself."
"Are you trying to drive me away?"
"On the contrary. I hope that you will stay for a very long time."
"So you do not intend to harm me?"
"Not in the way you might think. I cannot do you permanent damage and that includes death, but I can give the illusion of pain and it will seem very real. More important though, I can give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams."
"There must be a catch."
"Only this. You must tell no one of me."
"I am not sure anyone would believe me even if I did."
"Do not be tempted to try."
She walked up to the table. It was definitely her vibrator, or a very good facsimile. It even had the small chip in the battery cover where she had knocked it in her rush to hide it from her mother.
"Now go and enjoy yourself. When you are ready, present yourself in front of the panel, naked. And be prepared to do whatever I ask of you"
She picked up the vibrator. Nothing happened. The door was still open. She turned and walked out, forcing herself not to run. The door closed behind her. A quick glance showed that there was no evidence that it had ever existed. Her coffee was where she had left it. She drank it. It was perfect temperature to drink, almost as if she had never left. She gave another look around the room, walked to the door, switched off the light and made her way upstairs, vibrator in hand,
She undressed slowly anticipating what was to come. She could not resist looking for her vibrator in the drawer where she thought she had left it. It was not there.
"Well, well" she said out loud. "Curiouser and curiouser said Alice. And I did not even ask her name."
She switched off the lights and lay back on the bed vibrator in hand. She automatically moved it around her clit, but her mind was elsewhere. What did she mean by 'Do whatever I ask?'
She put the vibrator away in the drawer and settled down with a smile on her face.
Re: The Witch House
Posted: Sun Oct 23, 2016 2:09 pm
Angela awoke refreshed.
"What a strange dream," she said out loud. "so vivid."
She dressed with purpose. Her morning routine had not changed, despite moving out alone. Muesli breakfast and a pot of tea ensured that she was set for the day. She made her packed lunch and set off. Her appointments were within the Birmingham area so although it was comparatively few miles the traffic ensured that she was driving for most of the day. She dropped into the gym for her daily workout and picked up a Chinese for dinner. She found a mindless programme to watch on TV before settling down with a book. Her taste in reading varied. At present she was on the third of a series of medieval mysteries. Perhaps that was why she had dreamt about witches?
She slept well but if she had dreamt the details escaped her.
Another day, the routine continued. This time she went to Worcester. She was pleased with how it went and the M42 behaved well getting her home a little earlier that usual. She was not an exciting cook and tended to alternate between takeaway and frozen convenience meals. She had a night out with the girls and spent a little time making herself conventionally beautiful. She had been tempted to talk about her dream but something made her stop. Something about not telling anyone? But it was only a dream wasn't it?
Another dreamless but refreshing night and life went on.
She was relaxing with a cup of coffee when the thought crossed her mind.
"Perhaps it was not a dream?"
She put her cup down slowly.
"Present yourself naked?"
She felt very self conscious. Her clothes dropped to the floor, She could gather them up before going to bed. There was a mirror on the wall to her left. She was not groomed and her daily make up was looking tired.
"Well, here I am," she announced.
After what seemed like an age but was probably less than a minute the door opened.
"Not a dream then," she said.
The room was different. The floor was soft. The light seemed less harsh and unfocussed. The table was still there but there was now a sort of chaise-long on the right.
The door closed.
She felt a surge of panic. She was trapped. It took all of her will power not to turn and scratch at the wall behind her.
"Welcome back Angela. Please, take a seat. You are perfectly safe."
The voice was soft and gentle.
"I want you to touch yourself, as you would for pleasuring."
She felt herself go hot from foot to scalp. She touched her breast but it was an empty gesture.
"Perhaps if you closed your eyes," the voice suggested. "forget where you are."
She tried to relax and closed her eyes. She was aware of her heart pounding. Her right hand traced around her right nipple and she gently pulled at it. Gaining confidence her hands wandered over her body concentrating mostly on her breasts. Her left hand dropped down between her legs.
"Do not bring yourself off."
The voice was now firm and insistent. Angela withdrew her hand and opened her eyes.
"That took some effort didn't it?"
"I guess so. I am not used to being ordered about."
"I am sorry, but you will, I hope, understand why."
"Don't get me wrong, I find it quite exciting, I am just not used to it. In fact this whole thing is a bit bizarre. I was not even certain it was real."
"Do you trust me?"
"I think so. I mean I have to, what with the locked door and all that."
"It will open if you stand in front of it. Do you want to leave?"
"No," she admitted.
"Do you see what is on the table?"
"Looks like handcuffs."
"Put them on."
She walked over to the table. She had never been this close to a pair of handcuffs but was pretty certain that once put on she would not be able to take them off. without a key or something and there was no key. She placed one over her left wrist and closed it, there was a sort of ratchet so that it would tighten but not loosen. She tightened it as far as she dared. The other cuff sort of dangled. She considered for a moment. The police always seemed to handcuff hands behind the back. Could she? Yes she probably could. She felt her heart race again. A little clumsily, but effectively, she cuffed her right hand so that her wrists were secured behind her.
"Now try and touch yourself"
It was pretty obvious that she could not succeed but she made a couple of valiant attempts.
Suddenly the right hand cuff opened again.
"Do you now see something else on the table.?"
Angela was again uncertain whether it had appeared of whether she had just not noticed it. It was a slightly strange looking thong. The front was quite wide and stiff but the back was virtually string, maybe fine leather. The front was probably a sort of leather as well.
"I see it."
"Put it on. But I should warn you. if you do you will not be able to remove it."
Angela shrugged. In for a penny...
It felt a little silly with a handcuff dangling but she put her legs through and pulled the thing up. Sure enough, when it reached her waist it automatically tightened to a snug fit. She could not even get a finger inside it.
"Your sex is now mine," the voice said. There was no malice, or even glee. It was just a matter of fact. "It is magical. It will allow you to urinate or defecate and you will not notice, or see it, you can even wash through it, but if you try and touch yourself it will block you. Others are not affected. But if you have intercourse and climax there might be consequences when you return."
"I assume you are not denying me completely? After all you did promise me pleasure beyond my wildest dreams."
"Let me demonstrate."
Suddenly there was a vibration. It was as if her whole body was vibrating but concentrating right inside her. She automatically clawed at her sex but all she felt was smooth material. It stopped. Then her anus was invaded. Then the vibrations returned the intrusion vibrating as well.
It was some sort of electric shock, inside her. Again she could nether reach nor affect anything
Her legs turned to jelly as she felt something fuck her.
"Oh my god," she uttered.
The sensations stopped.
"Now cuff yourself again."
Angela realised that it would make no difference whether her hands were free or not. She could not stop whatever this spirit wished to do to her.
"I think you should return to the couch."
Angela obeyed, lying awkwardly on her wrists.
She sat there conscious of little other than the fact that she was waiting and that her hands were uncomfortable behind her.
Unbelievably a fly landed on her nipple. She felt it. She shivered. Its wings beat and her nipple vibrated. She could not get her hands to it and her attempts at blowing at it failed.
Her first thought was revulsion, but it was doing something to her. Something else.
Another fly. This could not be real! They were buzzing in harmony. It was going right through her nipples. She was getting turned on again.
The vibrations started up again inside her,. They were only just noticeable but they matched the flies. Her body was vibrating. And she could not stop it.
"You must resist the climax."
Resist? How could she resist! She tensed up but that just enhanced the vibrations.
Her anus was invaded again. It must be some sort of magic because there were no protrusions in the thong she had put on
She lost track of what was doing what. She was in sensual overload. Nothing was going to stop the growing climax, except that it was still building! She was not climaxing!
She pulled futilely at her wrists. She did not really know why. Her whole body was vibrating. She had to do something!
The climax when it finally came was mind-blowing.
But the vibrations did not stop.
It took a few moments to realise it. She was thrashing in ecstasy but through it was almost a pain, or a craving, or, she could not grasp it, but it was building again, possibly higher than before. She must come again. She wanted it. She had never wanted it more. She was still conscious of the handcuffs and the impossible task of breaking free of them. What for? The vibrations were inside and beyond her reach, yet she needed to reach them.
It was not like her. The need to vocalise. Her mind was going numb. She was not even certain if it was now ecstasy or agony, but it was still not stopping.
"No more!" she pleaded.
"One more," was the cold response.
"No o o o !"
Her voice screeched as her insides exploded again.
She was now rolling on the floor. How she got there she was not certain.
The vibrations faded, slowly, bring her down. He cuffs released and disappeared. She flung her arms wide, in submission.
How long did she lie there? Time had no meaning. The ache was both good and bad. She was exhausted. She could not persuade herself to even try and move let alone get on her feet.
The door was open. Clearly it was time for her to leave.
She crawled. It was undignified but who was to know? Some disembodied spirit? She reached her chair and scrambled into it. The door had already closed. She looked around. Surely it must now be dark outside but the curtains were not drawn and light still streamed in. What time was it? Was it morning?
Unbelievably she had been in there for one hour.
Her hands clawed down between her legs but, although she could see her pubic hair, she could not reach inside her. Clearly this magic went beyond the room and the spirit had implied that it could follow her movements beyond it, even beyond the house.
There was a satisfied glow in her belly, for want of a better description. Her clothes were scattered where she had left them, Shakily she gathered them up. She was alone, but not quite ready to wander around naked. Clutching the clothes over her modesty she staggered upstairs to find her gown. Strength was returning to her legs but she now felt like she had over done it at the gym.
She made herself a cup of hot chocolate. And sat in the chair with her chin on her hugged knees, mindlessly rocking herself.
"I still never asked her name.," she said out loud, "maybe next time."
She was certain that there would be a next time. But not for a day or two. She was literally shagged out.
Re: The Witch House
Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2016 7:29 pm
Sleep did not come quickly that night, not that she was worried or concerned but the feelings in her groin perpetually reminded her of what had happened and she continually tried to touch herself. It was just the fact that it was clearly forbidden and she felt the need to rebel. Eventually she drifted off. She had vague memories of dreams but nothing tangible. The sensations had reduced to a dull ache when she awoke. She knew that she would go back into the room, but today was Sunday.
Angela was not a church goer but Sundays had a different routine. She was an addict to car boot sales and one in particular. She dressed with expectation. One day she would find that one bargain that would mean the end to all this driving and work.
One day maybe, but not today. The heavens had opened, albeit for a brief period but it sent everyone scurrying for cover and most sellers packed up. She had found a mirror she liked, but that was for the house, not for any sort of profit. She got home a little bedraggled and treated herself to a relaxing bath rather than a quick shower. She looked at herself, half submerged. She did not think of herself as narcissic but she did try and keep in good shape. She had never considered tattoos or body modification. She was not even sure why the thought had crossed her mind now.
She dried and dressed. It was a good half hour's drive to her parents, ironically driving back towards where she had been earlier.
Her mother was in the kitchen, her father reading the paper. She let herself in, shouting a greeting as she did so.
She exchanged some small talk with her mother before going into the sitting room and picking up the magazine that accompanied the paper. It was almost as if she had never left home.
The meal was a traditional Sunday roast, her mother clearly deciding that she must make sure that Angela had at least one decent meal a week.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, what's on you mind?"
Angela paused. Oh what the heck,
"have you ever worn handcuffs?"
He mother almost choked. Her father looked angry.
"Not you as well!"
Angela was more than a little confused.
"I am sure I don't know what you mean,," she said defensively.
"I will explain later, if you want, but why do you ask? Has someone suggested it? John perhaps?"
"Don't be silly. John and I are just good friends." She was racking her brain trying to think of a plausible reason for asking. "No, it was just I came across a DVD of 50 Shades, you remember that book that caused such a fuss a while back. I was wondering. Do people actually do such things?"
"I am sure that they do," her mother said, her composure returning, but Angela had clearly stirred up something. "but surely its more than that. Have you ever tried them?"
That was the one question she had hoped to avoid.
"I have no reason to," she lied.
Her mother seemed to accept it, although Angela recognised that look. The look she had seen when the vibrator had flown out her drawer accidentally when she had been looking for something else.
There was an awkward silence.
"Who is for dessert?" her mother said brightly. "Summer Pudding. Probably the last one of the year."
They finished the meal in comparative silence. Angela helped her mother clear the dishes.
"Come up stairs," her mother said quietly, "I have something to show you."
They went upstairs conspiratorial like a couple of school girls. Angela had never seen her mother like this. She went into their bedroom, a hallowed hall, Angela had hardly been in since a youngster. Her mother opened the wardrobe and pulled out a box from the back. It was a little tired, clearly having been used for a very long time.
"The answer is yes, and here they are."
She was holding a pair of handcuffs.: bright, shiny with a key in the central lock.
It was Angela's turn to be embarrassed.
"No, your father hates them. I am a self bondage addict. Your father did indulge me for a while but he really does not like it. It caused a few rows I can tell you. We don't talk about it now."
"Do you still?"
"Yes, when he is not around. I think he knows it as well, but, like I said, we don't talk about it."
"Why do you do it?"
"It's exciting. And yes it is very erotic."
"Do you get off on it?" She felt a little embarrassed still. it was not the sort of thing she expected to be talking about. She tried to imagine her mother squirming in bondage but it was just beyond her.
"Yes and no. I find it sexually exciting but I do not always orgasm."
"So you do sometimes orgasm. Do you multi-orgasm?"
"Are you sure you don't know what I am talking about?"
"You would be surprised what's on the Internet," Angela answered quickly.
"No I wouldn't. I probably know more than you do." Her mother was clearly not messing about. "Seriously, are you involved in something, or seriously think about doing it? I am not being critical. Hell, I have been doing it most of my adult life, but there are risks. I nearly killed myself once. I don't want to bury my favourite daughter because of a sexual accident."
"I am your only daughter," Angela pointed out with a smirk.
"You are not doing or thinking of doing something are you?" her mother repeated
Angela had no answer. She could not tell her mother about the room.
"I am just curious," she eventually said. "I had no idea that you did such things."
"There is no reason why you should. Your father will probably accuse me of encouraging you or something."
"Why do you do it?" Angela repeated
"I told you, it is exciting."
"But doesn't dad satisfy you?
"It's not the same. I was into self bondage long before I met your father. I thought that once I got sexually involved I would not want it any more. I was wrong. The first time your dad caught me he was both angry and hurt."
"I think I can imagine."
"Probably not. I know that I could never picture my own parents having sex let alone in bondage."
"It is a bit," she paused, uncertain, "I don't know, just something I never thought about. I mean you had to have sex to get me. Were you tied up then?"
"No, your father never took advantage of me in bondage, even though I might have liked it. We only had conventional sex. I think he saw my self bondage activities as some sort of cheating. I think he thought that he should have been enough for me. He really does not understand it."
Her mother was taking things out of the box. Angela caught sight of a ball with some sort of strap through it.
"Is that a gag?"
"Yes, but I don't use it unless someone else is nearby. it is very dangerous not to be able to cry out or get help. That was what nearly killed me."
"But isn't it pointless if no one is around to hear you?"
"There is always a chance of someone passing close enough to hear you, especially if you are not in you bedroom."
"You have done it outside?"
Her mother smiled.
"In the garden, even in a wood. It is very exciting to be helpless and vulnerable."
"But you might have got raped."
"I might, I suppose, but most people are probably like your father; secret knights in shining armour rushing to the assistance of the damsel in distress. But I was never in distress, although sometimes I got myself quite worked up. Especially if there was no way to get myself off."
"So it's not sexual."
"Oh yes it is. I get turned on just by being tied up. And the more restrictions the more excited I get, but I can't just orgasm. I need some stimulation. A vibrator works every time, but I can set it low enough not to let me get there. If I don't orgasm in bondage I will usually have one afterwards. But orgasming in bondage is much more powerful, and of course, if you can't stop it you have to orgasm again and again."
"Isn't that painful?"
Her mother raised an eyebrow. Angela only just caught it.
"You are not telling me you have never mulit-orgasmed?"
"I have never had the courage to try," she said honestly. The fact that she had been forced to it by someone, or something else was another matter.
"If it wasn't frowned upon I would be tempted to do it for you. I hope some day someone does. I can do it with a vibrator even out of orgasm, but then again, I know what to expect."
Again the vision of her mother writhing in orgasmic bliss alluded her.
"Would you be my safety if your father is not around?"
"What do you mean, come and untie you? I am not sure I could, besides I am over half an hour away, traffic willing."
"I guess not. It was worth a try."
"Your not embarrassed are you." it was not a question. "You would tie yourself up in front of me if you thought I would watch."
"I have got quite aroused just talking about it and showing you my toys. I haven't even shown you my prize. Even your father has never see this."
She left the box and went to a drawer. There were clearly knickers in it. It reminded Angela of where she kept her own vibrator. A vibrator that was now of no use to her.
It was in a glossy box. She saw the words Peanut Vibe on it. Her mother took it out and placed it on the palm of her hand.
"It has five speeds and is remotely controlled, one of which is a variable setting which switches it on and off at random sometimes hard and sometimes not. It can drive you crazy. Would you like to try it?"
"I don't think so," she said quickly. "There are some things I wouldn't share even with you."
Another raised eyebrow? Perhaps Angela had revealed more than she ought to have.
"I see some rope. Can you actually tie yourself up?"
"Of course. You can even tie your own hands but I only do that if I want to be able to escape. Handcuffs are better because you have to wait for the key to become available."
"You mean you actually do this freezing in water thing?"
"That and a key safe with timer. I even tied myself up by the front door and waited for the key to drop through the letter box, having posted it to myself. But that was a long time ago. It was a bit crazy even then."
"So do you torture yourself? I mean I looked at one site and the things they got up to were positively weird. Even drinking urine or crawling naked over tacks or broken glass."
"Yes I know that site. The fact that you do still makes me wonder about you. I have never been into watersports and the like although I did piss myself and worse when I got stuck. I have various nipple clamps and butt plugs that I occasionally use. These are the most intense, they are called Clover clips. They tighten with pressure and don't slacken until you release them."
"Don't you find it hard to put them on yourself?"
"Not really. Most things don't start to irritate or hurt straight away, and by the time they do you are already unable to stop them. By the time I put them in or on I am 90% immobile, usually just one hand free."
"Does pain and discomfort turn you on or off?"
"Bit of both. Pressure on my nipples arouses me,. You will not have seen my piercings."
Her mother opened her blouse and revealed her breast from out of her bra. There was a barrel through the back of her nipple.
"I also have a pierced labia. Your father went mad but it was too late for him to stop me."
"Did it hurt?"
"No more than peircing my ears, but I almost orgasmed."
Her mother giggled.
"Do you have a pierced belly button?"
"What for? It's not erotic and I am not a belly dancer. I did think of a nose ring but your father forbade it and I was not enthusiastic enough to defy him again. He actually likes the nipple barrels. Not sure why."
"You say he does not like you tied up?"
"No, he doesn't understand it at all. He used to indulge me, like I said, and I got some really good inescapable bondage along with some really good orgasms but he felt cheated. He wanted to get me off; not some machine. And like I also said, he refused to have sex with me in bondage so he usually tied me up with my legs together and without any sort of stimuli. Once he gave me a crupper and told me I wouldn't be freed until I had orgasmed. It was glorious. But he only did it the once."
"I never knew," Angela said wistfully.
"We made sure you didn't," her mother said, "I think that is what upset your father at the table. Maybe it's in the genes?"
"I never said that I was either doing it or going to," Angela reminded her.
"Yes, dear." The look said much more. "We had better go back down now. Shame. I thought for a while that you might indulge me."
"Sorry, mum. I am barely getting used to the idea of you doing it at all, let alone watching or helping you do it."
"Maybe one day."
Angela did not answer. She left her mum tidying away her toys. Her father was watching the football.
Nothing more was said on the subject. Angela stayed until after tea.
In the quietness of her own home she reviewed her talk with her mother. Had she been wrong to deny her? Why could she not accept it? Was what she was now doing so really different?
The answer was inconclusive. It seemed that the spirit was going to insist that she put on or self applied anything, especially restrictions. So in that sense it was self bondage. But on the other hand the spirit controlled both her release and any stimulation or pain. Then again that bullet had basically taken the control out of her mother's hands as did any remote release or key control. She was convinced that her mother would love the room and the spirit, but, at least for now, they must never be introduced.
Posted: Sun Oct 30, 2016 5:03 pm
It was no longer a case of disbelief or denial. Angela knew that the room existed and had some idea of what it contained. But she was in no hurry to go back in. The reason she knew about the web sites was that she had spent many hours surfing sex sites as both a teenager, and a young adult. In truth the self bondage site had put her off such things. She had never even tried it and none of her flirtations had ever suggested it. She had not found wearing handcuffs either particularly exciting or frightening. She was certainly not rushing to have another try. On the other hand the orgasms had been both exciting and frightening.
She flung herself into her work and followed it up with a punishing workout. John was still the only person who came close to the definition of boy friend, but only inasmuch as he was male. She had a group of single females who met together regularly. The conversation was normally about male conquests or girlie accessories. Angela kept her end up with tales of purchases at boot sales and encouraging, or commiserating with, her friends. She was not in the least tempted to discuss her latest adventures. And the thought of her mother tying herself up was not one she wished to even consider, let alone divulge.
It was Friday when she finally presented herself again. She undressed upstairs and came down in her robe. She felt much less self conscious. Her mind was clear. There was a little anticipation that manifested itself as proverbial butterflies in her stomach and a slightly dry mouth. She let her gown drop and stood resolutely. The door opened.
It was different; very different. The ground was stone, almost damp. The light came from flaming braziers that exuded some warmth but the atmosphere was stuffy. This was a dungeon. Ahead was a contraption that could have come out of any medieval castle except that it looked almost as if it had been made yesterday. The table was no longer in the middle and was rustic to match the surroundings. The edges of the room were in darkness.
"I have some questions," Angela said boldly.
"What is your name?"
"Does that matter?"
"I wish to know, that is all"
"You may call me Ann"
"I had expected something more archaic, or even witch like."
"I am not a black witch, or even a white one. In modern game parlance you might call me chaotic neutral."
"Were you burnt at the stake?"
"No, I was not troubled by authority or even the local community. There were rumours, but nothing was ever investigated, to my knowledge."
"Do you mean why you?"
"Not only me. I sort of assume that this has gone on before and that I am not the first."
"You are perceptive."
"I was a lesbian before the term existed. I only love women. "
"Love? Is that what this is?"
"Am I on trial?"
"In a sense yes. If you respond to me our love will blossom. If you reject me I will drive you away, as I have done others."
"Are you jealous? I mean if I found someone I wished to marry?"
"That would be unfortunate, yes."
"What about other women?"
"I think I like your mother."
Angela's heart jumped.
"You know about her?"
"Only what you know."
"You must also know that I am not comfortable with the reality of it?"
"I understand, but, as a respect you are not barred from discussing me with her."
"I am not sure that I can. I think she might want to see for herself."
"I might like that."
"And I might not."
"She could come in alone."
"That might not help me either."
For a moment or two Angela tried to diagnose why she could not accept her mother either in bondage or orgasmic bliss. It was irrational; and possibly selfish. She might even have been wrong not to offer her mother the help she craved. She would have to think some more on this.
The voice disturbed her reverie.
"Am I going to enjoy this?"
"I hope so. Try to keep an open mind. Remember that the journey is as important as the destination."
Angela walked over to the table. There was a chain. She had never seen one like it in real life but her research identified it as a nipple chain. It had manually adjustable clips rather than the clover self tightening type.
"I suppose that you want me to put that on?"
"It is not necessary, but I think it will enhance your experience."
"Can't you just impose it, like the flies or the other stimuli?"
"I could, but, as I think you already realised, this is a two way process. I need your willing participation and involvement."
"Is not being here willing and involvement enough?"
She picked it up. There was some weight but she had no sort of reference as to how that might feel when in place. She felt a tingle in her nipples as if she was anticipating the effect it might have. She actually wanted it.
"Are you going to change it once I am wearing it? Make it heavier, or add something?"
"No, but, for instance, if Your other put it on it might loosen or fall off. I can make sure that it does not."
The ends were like flat tweezers with a sleeve that closed them the nearer it got to the ends. Angela gingerly tightened one onto her left nipple until it hung on its own accord. She could feel it, but it was neither painful or particularly uncomfortable. She put the other side on but when she let go the chain pulled at the clasps. She sort of winced, not out of pain as such, more like a reaction. Something stirred in her groin, already.
"Now go to the cross and strap yourself in. The wrist cuffs are self locking but you will have to secure your ankles and the strap at the waist and forehead."
It was an Andrew's cross, being an X not a T or crucifix. She bent down and was conscious of the movement on her nipples. The straps were lined with some soft fur like fabric and bucked like a conventional belt. The stretch was not strenuous but once in place she could not move her legs. Buckling her waist was like putting on clothes. Strapping her head meat that she could not really see to place her wrists. There was an ominous click as her left wrist found its place. She wasted no time with her right wrist, There seemed no point in delaying things. She felt very exposed and vulnerable and the chain was still rocking from her movement.
The urge to try and move was irresistible. Her body invented itches or irritants for her to try and reach or scratch.. She was now conscious of a dull ache in her nipples and a growing ache lower down. Her eyes rolled around trying to see where her head could not move to help her. Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips but there was no saliva to moisten them.
She had never been tied down before although once, as a child she had got trapped in a confined space for a short time. She had screamed for help then. She did not scream now.
The irritations persisted but she no longer attempted to move. The chain lay still, but her libido was smouldering.
She was suddenly aware of the ground moving, No, it was the cross. it was revolving ever so slowly. She gasped. and pulled at her wrists. It was instinct.
In her sixth form she had gone with some friends to a funfair and been dared to try the centrifugal cage. It had been the longest two minutes of her life. Now those feelings rushed back to her. While at full speed she had been held against the back unable to move the world rushing past in a blur. She was nearly upside down now. The movement was slow but inexorable. Her hair touched the ground. Her stomach refused to reach her mouth. Her nipples complained at her. The wheel turned agonisingly slowly. Her breathing eased as she returned to upright, but the wheel had not stopped.
She knew now what to expect as she turned upside down again, but the knowledge was of little use. She concentrated on breathing easily. Shutting her eyes had no effect..
Was it going faster? She was almost certain of it but the increase was almost imperceptible.
She was now certain. How fast would it go?
Speed changed things. the effect of being upside down lessened but the movement itself cause different effects. The chain was in perpetual agitation and her nipples reacted to every pull. She was a little light headed, giddy perhaps. It was becoming more and more like the circus ride and less and less like erotic stimulation.
She felt the braking when it came. The reduction in speed was more rapid taking only a few rotations to drop down to almost nothing. When it stopped she was panting. She was sweating. She wanted to get off.
Now the vibrations started against her clit. Low and enticing, but unmistakable.
The cross started moving again. Slowly as before.
As the turning increased so did the vibrations. She could not reconcile the mixed stimuli. He nipples were now on fire.
"You must resist."
The words from the Borg filled her mind. resistance was futile.
As the feelings inside her welled up her breathing became laboured, thrown off by the turning of the wheel. She was tensing against her bonds and trying to writhe and wriggle to no effect. As the climax came she both welcomed and cursed it. The wheel was turning faster than ever with her hair now standing up with the centrifugal forces. She heard screaming. It must have been hers.
She must have feinted, or whatever the correct term might be. The wheel was upright and motionless. She still could not move but all movement and vibration had stopped. She heard a feint click and her right wrist was released closely followed by her left. Her first act of freedom was to release her nipples from their torture, and winced, but somehow in a good way as each one was freed. Shakily she undid the buckles, unsure whether her legs would take her weight. The door was open. It was time to leave.
The clock showed that it had taken one hour. She did not believe it. She put on her gown but left it undone being reluctant to let it touch her still sensitive nipples.
Every clock showed the same thing, even her computer. But how did she follow that? It was too early for bed. If this was the way it was going to work she would have to make it an hour before she wished to go to sleep or maybe a spare hour in the day? Maybe not. In truth she was shagged out, again, possibly more so. But, she was also on a bit of a high, her senses tingling and a very satisfied feeling below. Which ever she would have to ensure that this time limit was reliable and try and work to it. There was no doubt in her mind that she would return. She was already addicted. It was now more than just curiosity. She wanted to feel like she did now. Maybe sleeping afterwards was not such a good idea? Sleep would deaden and loose the aftermath that she had suffered to gain. She could even, almost, understand what her mother had spent a life time craving.
She basked. There was no other word for it. She slumped in her chair, her gown open to the world. Her eyes glazed. She might have actually gone to sleep. She eventually stirred and made herself a drink before watching something mindless on the Television. She went to bed satiated and still aglow. If only she did not have to work in the morning.
Re: The Witch House
Posted: Tue Nov 08, 2016 7:50 pm
It took a great deal of will power and self discipline not to either take a 'sickie' or even go straight back to the room. Although, as before, there was still an echo of pleasurable pain in her groin and she really did not need or want further orgasms, the temptation was very real.
She followed her morning routine with determination and soon the night before was a dim, if confusing memory. Had she enjoyed it? She enjoyed the resulting feelings but the actual ordeal on the wheel had tried her endurance. Being tied down had sort of made it easier, but even so there must be a less traumatic way to get orgasmic bliss. She recalled that her mother could multi-gasm just with a vibrator. Clearly that route was barred, but only if she remained under the spell of the spirit. If the chastity was removed she could do what she wished. Yet, her mother still craved bondage, so maybe that was part and parcel to her pleasure?
As the week progressed her curiosity, even craving returned. She sat in her chair trying not to look towards the panel. There was nothing to see. The light had never returned. Even so her eyes kept straying towards it and there was a wetness in her palms and corresponding dryness in her mouth.
She ripped her clothes off, scattering them. She stood, naked, resolutely. She was not disappointed.
She walked in and stopped dead. For a moment she thought she had made some sort of mistake and gone upstairs to her bedroom. Except that it was not quite right. The bed was hers, or at least a very good copy, but all her normal bits and pieces were missing. The wardrobe and other furniture were not real. She could put her hands through them but her eyes saw them as real.
There was some rope neatly lined up on the bed and what was obviously a ball gag, handcuffs and some sort of nipple pumps. Clearly she was not to be trusted to secure her hands properly with rope, but she was expected to both secure and titillate herself.
"Before you ask, yes you will always spend 1 hour of real time in here, but your perception of it may not agree. I say this because the whole point of today is to give you a taste of prolonged captivity."
"Thank you," Angela answered.
"I think you know what I expect. Your previous research should have shown you how to use rope, or do you want me to guide you?"
"I have never tied anyone. let alone myself," she confessed. "Perhaps a little help."
"Sit on the bed and watch your TV."
She was about to say that it was not real but an image appeared on it. She watched a demonstration of ropework, probably a netcast but she did not recognise the people involved. The basic technique of doubling the rope and cinching seemed straight forward enough. Then there was an instruction for tying her own breasts. It seemed fairly straight forward also. Finally there was instruction on fixing a crupper. She was intruiged. Wasn't the chastity belt going to interfere?
"Not if I don't want it to." Ann said, answering her thoughts.
"How do these work?" Angela said picking up one of the plastic tubes. It had a screw thread inside and a ridged wheel at the closed end.
"You place it over your nipple and turn the wheel until it is firmly sucked into place. It is a little more stringent than last time but I am sure you will be able to cope. I suggest it is the last thing you do before securing the handcuffs. Do you know what a hog-tie is?
"Bending your legs back to your hands?"
"Yes, I want you to secure the cuffs to your ankle tie so that when you put them on you are virtually touching your feet. It will be quite strenuous."
Actually she could not really imagine how it would feel but she did understand what was expected.
"Place the handcuffs under your ankles and when you cinch them ensure that you catch the cuffs as well."
"Now, in your own time proceed. Start with the Crupper. I do not want you to include any extra knots but it needs to be tight to have the right effect."
"I will take your word for it."
She considered the ropes in front of her. Which one?
"Start at the left. You will find each one is about the right length. The longest one is for your breasts. The ropes get longer as you go up your legs: ankles, knees and then thighs."
"I have seen this. Why the thighs? Isn't that a little excessive?"
"Maybe but it makes you more conscious of the crupper, amongst other things."
"And don't forget the gag."
"Did I scream last time?"
"Yes, but that is not the reason for the gag. It makes you that little more helpless. As you can guess from the amount of talking already. Once you put that on you can neither ask for clarification nor freedom. In conventional bondage there is a safe word or grunt but I will not, no can not, cause you actual harm. What goes on in here only leaves if I allow it to. I may, sometime, decide to flog you to an inch of your life but when you leave there will not be a mark on your fair skin. I can even disable you or maim you in here without permanent damage. If you lose consciousness you will not die. But that is not for now. Suffice it to say that even gagged you are in no danger but you are totally at my mercy."
Angela shivered. involuntarily.
"Proceed," Ann repeated.
Angela picked up the gag. Strictly speaking she was both obeying and disobeying.
She felt a little silly The ball felt strange. The strap pulled at the sides of her mouth. She could still breathe through her mouth, just, but she felt a little spittle. She resisted the temptation to try and speak.
She considered the next rope. She picked it up and doubled it, taking a turn around her waist, then pulling the two loops back in the opposite direction making a second turn and threaded the ropes between the turns. She then turned the whole thing around on her waist so that the lengths dropped from the small of her back, pulling it as tight as she could. She then pulled it between her legs and split the ends so that one went behind and the other in front. tying then together and tightening so that the rope tried to drop off her hips but could not do so. The rope between her legs bit inside her splitting her bum cheeks on the way to the back. She noted that as she bent down for the next rope the crupper tightened. She stood and the crupper relaxed a touch. nevertheless there was a tinge of something, even now.
She felt even more foolish taking turns around her chest above and below her breasts then splitting the rope passing the ends ether side of her neck and then cinching near her arm pits before taking them to the middle and cinching the middle. Her breasts were now being squeezed. It felt very strange, It was almost like a tight bra but the pressure was not even and her nipples seemed to protrude further than usual. That was probably her imagination.
She sat on the bed and the crupper tightened as she reached down to her ankles. She remembered the handcuffs. She repeated the procedure of a loop and passing it back around, and through the two turns, Her ankles were not very tight together but as she took each end either side and through, catching the cuffs en route she felt the ropes tighten, a second turn and they were firmly held. She knotted off and gave a little wriggle. Yes her ankles were held. Next her knees. She was getting a little more confident. With her thighs she had to squeeze to get the rope between them. Her legs were now firmly locked together. It was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable.
She paused. There was something else? Oh yes the nipple things. She considered one. Placed it over her nipple and gingerly turned the wheel. She felt it sort of bite and some pressure on her nipple as the expired air pulled at it. She risked another couple of turns. Then repeated with the other one. Even now she could feel the pressure both on her breasts themselves and the nipples in particular. Her libido rose a notch or two. Even now there was an unscratchable itch in her groin.
She rolled onto her chest and manipulated the handcuffs onto one wrist but it took several goes to manage to catch other. She then tried to relax but found herself straining, bent backwards in a bow, her arms taught and her legs bent almost double. She gave out a gasp of complaint and found that she spluttered. She rocked trying to get comfortable but it was not going to happen. She realised that every movement caused a pain in her nipples. She flopped onto her side in agony and despair. Her mouth chewing the gag and making ineffectual noises, spittle dripping out of the corner of her mouth. She fought for breath, not because it was difficult to breathe but because she was panting from the strain.
Ann said nothing. Angela was gagged.
How long did she lie there? She could not even manage to turn or get back onto her chest. She was almost completely immobile. The crupper was tearing her in half but not providing any sort of satisfaction or stimuli. Her breasts were warm and her nipples on fire. What the hell had she done? She tried to complain or get Ann's attention but the gag prevented anything other than some muffled grunts.
Angela did not think this was erotic. She was in agony. The handcuffs were biting into her wrists now and her arms felt like they would fall off. She was sweating. She was drooling. She was...
Excited! For crying out loud she was horny as hell! Despite everything there was an expectation. She knew that sooner or later she would be forced to orgasm. She wanted it, more than anything yet in this position, and under this strain, could she actually achieve it?
The vibration when it came was not what she expected. It was in the rope. Her mind grasped at it, willing it to get her off, but it was not strong enough. She howled a cry of disappointment but even that was lost.
The build up was slow, almost imperceptible. Suddenly her body strained and from nowhere convulsed. The ropes held firm, but her muscles still strained and tried to contract. Now she could feel the vibrations more strongly. She willed herself to another climax, and another , and...
The words did not come but neither would the orgasm. Her body strained. She forgot everything else and focussed on her groin,
"Yes, yes, YES!"
No words, of course, but the relief was incredible. As if by magic, in fact it was by magic, the ropes just fell off and the cuffs opened, even the tubes dropped off her nipples and the gag disappeared from her mouth. She scattered the ropes and lay on her back stretching then alternately pulling her knees to her chest. Her legs now locked together by her own will not ropes. The now familiar ache pulsing through her.
"Now, now, language. I'll put that gag back on."
Angela could not be sure whether it was a joke or not.
"Sorry," she said, "it's not like me, really. Though on this occasion it seems quite apt. That was hell right up to the final climax."
"I will let it pass, this time."
She was serious! How peculiar?
She sounded irritated. Angela scurried out like a scolded school girl.
She quickly gathered up her things and retreated to the safety of her own bedroom. There was a damp patch on her bed, which was ruffled and unmade. Angela would have to change the covers before going to bed. Perhaps this was a sort of punishment for her outburst? Or maybe it would have been there anyway. Ann had already demonstrated that she could move things around from the house to her room. But she had also said that things only changed outside if she wanted them to. Angela was certain that Ann could have restored her bed if she had wanted to. The fact that she hadn't spoke volumes.
Angela showered. She had sweated profusely but there were no rope burns or even residual red marks, as promised. Perhaps even the dirty feeling was more in her mind than actuality? The water splashed over her and she luxuriated in its caress and warmth.
She took her time drying both her body and her hair. She had been in the room for 1 hour but, as suggested, it had felt like much longer. Again she was ambivalent, unsure in her own mind whether she had enjoyed the wait or just the climax(es). Could she have one without the other? Perhaps it did not matter. As long as she wore the chastity device she could not test what sort of orgasms self stimulation without bondage could achieve. And, if she admitted it, she had no real desire to change things for now.
Re: The Witch House
Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2016 7:30 pm
Her life went on. The weekend was upon her. She found herself opening the family front door, She was not aware of any change in her look or demeanour but her mother clearly saw something.
"You are looking well, vibrant even. Is there something you wish to tell us?"
"I am not pregnant, if that's what you mean," Angela quipped, unsure exactly what she did mean.
Once again her mother manoeuvred her upstairs for a motherly chat out of her father's earshot.
"Tell me your not tying yourself up."
"It's not that simple," Angela weedled.
"Either you are or you are not," her mother insisted.
"What makes you think I am?"
"Now I know you are. Come on, out with it."
"I am not sure that you will believe me."
"I have always known when you are lying to me, even if you thought otherwise."
It was a rather startling revelation, and one that Angela found hard to accept.
"If I told you that the house was haunted, would you believe me?"
"What has that to do with you tying yourself up?"
"I don't understand."
Angela paused. Her mother looked both expectant and perplexed. Angela needed to tell her. She needed to tell someone.
She started and it came tunbling out. She hardly stopped for breath. Her mother listened, straight faced. She occasionally offered a word of encouragement or query, but mostly she listened.
"... and she wants to meet you."
Angela had not intended to say that, but it just came out.
"And I think I want to meet her," her mother confirmed.
"I don't know. I am having enough trouble visualising your self bondage let alone seeing you naked or in orgasmic ecstasy."
"She did say that I could go in alone."
"Yes, but... " she faltered.. Her mother looked flushed. Angela could not deny it,
"you will fall under her spell."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"I have been thinking, "Angela said slowly, "I have been a little selfish."
"You asked me for help and I said no."
"That's as may be, but it doesn't make it right.
"This is something very personal and private. And I do understand. I am your mother, not your sex partner."
"I really don't know what to do. It is so confusing and bewildering. But if I can't tell my mother and share with her, who can I tell?"
"You are sure that this Ann is not malevolent or dangerous?"
"I am sure that she can't actually hurt me or kill me, yes. But it feels very real."
"I guess it is no different from a boy friend," her mother conceded. "I don't think my parents really approved of your father."
"No one is good enough for your daughter. One day, if you have children, you may understand that. I will also admit that I have ulterior motives for wanting to meet this Ann. But I do worry about you as well."
They had never been very touchy, feely since her childhood but Angela now felt the need for a big motherly hug.
She felt like a child again. She fought back the tears welling up in her eyes.
"I will not insist," her mother said. "but I am very jealous of you, and that is hard for me to come to terms with also."
"Give me a little more time," Angela said. "I had already decided to be your safety if needed."
The look on her mother's face was a mixture of surprise and something else. Probably excitement.
"I will have a word with Ann," Angela continued, "and see if we can make it so that you come in after I am immobile. So that I can't interfere or even object to what happens to you."
"You don't have to," her mother repeated.
"I know, " Angela whispered, "but I want to, really I do."
She basked in her mother's arms.
"We had better go back down, your father will be wondering what we are doing."
It was hard not to look like a couple of conspirators. Angela was sure that her father knew something was up. He might even have guessed the basic topic but chances were he would not dream in a million years what they were actually planning. She could not really believe it herself.
Alone in her house she agonised and worried over what she had agreed to. In all fairness she had no right to stop her mother getting what she had craved for, or the reassurances about her precious daughter, but...
Angela kept putting off the next confrontation, not that she expected any argument or refusal.
Life was good. she was good at her work and it was providing a more than adequate financial reward. She had friends and a social life, and then there was John.
Why had John never dated anyone? Why was he not only single but at her beck and call? Why did he not demand something of her or even woo her affections? Clearly Ann would never accept him but knowing that, should she not let him go? Even in a world that had turned mad she could never have foreseen the bombshell John had for her.
"I am gay."
"You are joking, of course."
"No I am not. I have had a boy friend, even lover, for quite some time now but we have kept it quiet."
"Gay? Are you sure? I mean, we have never... You have never... I have never..."
"You are my friend, a good friend, almost a sister to me. Even my parents don't know. They seem to think that we will..."
"So do mine."
"You're not upset?"
"Why should I be? Like I said, I have never encouraged or even expected anything of that sort from you. I must admit I am a little surprised. Are you going to tell your parents?"
"I don't know that I can."
"Don't you think that they ought to know?"
"Why? It's my life!"
"Do you love this man? How long have you known him? How long have you been sleeping together. You have been sexually involved? Not that it's any of my business of course, but have you?"
"Yes. For several months now."
"Are you dominant or submissive?"
"What makes you think I am either?"
"Just what I have read or heard of."
"We tie each other up."
Angela spluttered. She knew, that instant, what had gone through her mother's mind. Her mouth opened, and then closed. She could not think of anything to say.
"I never knew you were into bondage," she said lamely
"I wasn't. Peter introduced me. I was scared witless at first but now I love it."
"Are you sure its not the bondage rather than Peter that you love?"
"It might be, I suppose. Never thought of it like that."
"Like I said, it's none of my business."
"You're not shocked?"
"You won't tell anyone?"
"Your secret is safe with me," she assured him, resisting the temptation to reciprocate. She had a feeling that if she admitted her new experiences they might find a new shared interest, and Ann would definitely not approve.
"So what do you want me to do? She asked.
"Behave as if nothing was different."
She tried to look reluctant, maybe he was so desperate he did not notice. In truth it made her life much easier, for now.
"Okay, if that's what you want," she conceded.
The subject was dropped like a hot potato. All she needed now was for her girl friends to invite her to a BDSM orgy and her world would implode.
It didn't of course. And despite her self consciousness and conviction that they would somehow know, her weekly conflab went without incident.
Still she procrastinated, unwilling to follow through with what she had promised. As the next weekend loomed closer she steeled herself. It was time to negotiate, or whatever the right term was. She had to see Ann. She was also curious as to what she might come up with this time.
Re: The Witch House
Posted: Thu Nov 17, 2016 9:32 pm
She was prepared, at least as prepared as she could be, without knowing what exactly would happen. She undressed in her bedroom and wore her robe downstairs. She could have gone naked but her sense of decency prevailed. If someone came to the door she could open it without embarrassment or delay. She was calm, sort of, but expectant. She let the robe drop and stood.
Again the light was subdued. She could see something on a clothes hanger, but she had some business to attend to first.
"I assume you know what I have agreed with my mother?"
"And you agree also?"
"Of course. You come in and restrain yourself and then I let her in. She will think it a matter of a minute or so, but you can take as long as you like."
"We shall see."
There was something slightly ominous about that comment but Angela let it pass. She would proverbially cross that bridge when she came to it. For now her curiosity centred on the garment in front of her. It looked like a onesy, inasmuch as it was a full body item but the material was very light, almost translucent.
"Put it on, feet first, and roll it up your body. Put your hands and arms in and the head covering. It the zips up and down the back. Take your time, so as not to rip or damage it, although I can of course repair it."
There was a convenient chair. It started like putting on stockings or tights but then the comparisons stopped. She had never seen of worn anything like it. It was some sort of Lycra, almost rubber. It hugged her like a second skin. There were no gaps for nose, mouth or ears. She managed to bunch her hair inside. The Zips met at her neck. There was no mirror but she guessed that she would look more like a dummy than a person with no facial features, although her nipples still showed. She could still breathe easily and see through a slight haze. Ann's voice was slightly muffled but still understandable.
"It is called a Zentai suit," Ann informed her. "Now walk forward."
An area was revealed. The floor was a rubber like you would find in a wet room. There was a strap attached to a ring on the floor and lined leather cuffs suspended on a chain. She also saw something that looked like a control pad in a cradle.
"Strap your ankles, then cuff your hands in front of you, then pick up the pad. Be careful though, the pad is on a spring and when you let go it will rise out of your reach."
The strap was just that. She took it twice round her ankles and buckled it tight. The cuffs were also buckled and she had to use her mouth to tighten the second one. She reached for the pad and felt it almost slip due to the material on her fingers. It had two buttons. The top one pulled the chain on her wrists up. She guessed that the bottom one would lower them again. It was a steady pull and when her arms were above her head she let the button go.
"A little more," Ann said.
Angela was not so sure but did as she was told. As her arms straightened her grip on the control weakened. She let go and, as promised, the control lifted out of her reach. She was a bit more stretched than she might have liked so that her heels were off the ground.
"Excellent," Ann said.
She stood. It was neither comfortable nor particularly uncomfortable, although she would have preferred to have her feet firmly on the ground and a little more play in her arms. It occurred to her that the air was getting moist.
Due to the covering on her face she could not really see it but she was conscious of the material on her becoming heavier. She could now actually taste the moisture on her lips. The skin contracted, hugging her tightly all over. What little movement she had was lost. Her vision was now blurred and the material taught over her mouth. She was reminded of a scene in a horror movie where a girl was sprayed with water and then frozen, but for now she was just getting wetter, and heavier.
Angela resisted the temptation to speak. She was not really sure what she might say?
"You must resist."
Angela still had no idea how to resist. She had no control over her libido and, even now it had cranked up expectantly. The vibration was predictably low.
Suddenly she was pounded by strong water. It whipped and assaulted her, soaking her even more. The protective covering was no barrier and she spluttered as water invaded her mouth. Her arms were unable to protect her and she could not run away. Her feet slipped in the water making her arms take her weight.
It was a distraction. The vibrations had continued.
She felt her whole body vibrating in unison and nothing she could do would stop it.
Her body wanted to buckle but she was held rigid.
One, two, three, four, she lost count. Her head was going dizzy and her mind numb.
She awoke curled up on the floor, naked and dry, the now familiar satisfied ache in her groin.
"Until next time," Ann said. "I look forward to meeting your mother."
Angela was in no hurry. She now knew that time was irrelevant in here. She could wait until her legs would carry her in some sort of dignity.
She picked up her gown as the door silently closed behind her. At least this time she did not need a shower! Even her hair was bone dry and in place. She made herself a cup of hot chocolate and watched the late news.
Switching off the Telly her mind wandered back to John. Was he now tied up and squirming? Or maybe he was the one in charge. What did they do? Suck each other's dick? Or maybe some sort of anal copulation? Or was it like her, the idea being for the tied up one to have a forced orgasm? Could men have multiple orgasms? She had no real idea. Her experience with copulation and hetro-sex was actually very limited and not particularly pleasant. She decided to dismiss the whole thing from her mind. What John did was his business. What she did was becoming more public, or at least to the attention of her mother. And that idea was more than a little unsettling.
There was nothing intrinsically wrong with what she was doing? It was harming no one, not even her. And she was getting sexual satisfaction like never before. And it was not that different from what her mother had been doing, unbeknown to her, most of her life. Yet the world at large frowned on such things. It was that mixture of bondage and sex. Either was acceptable in moderation but mixing the two was taboo. You could restrain or cage someone for punishment but not pleasure. She vaguely wondered whether any criminals actually enjoyed their incarceration? Or maybe they were still plied with Bromide or some other inhibitor just in case. Could she actually learn to control her orgasms? Or maybe she would get used to the stimuli so that it was less effective thereby needing greater and more aggressive stimuli like drug or adrenaline addiction. She did get the impression that Ann was slowly making things more stringent. Would there be a point when Angela would say no? Could she refuse Ann? Maybe at the start, when she was applying things to herself, but once the bondage was complete she had no say in what happened next. And so far, she had found the endurance as stimulating as the titillation and ultimate climax. She wanted to resist, and would do so even if Ann did not demand it. But she could not help but wonder what Ann had planned this next time...
Re: The Witch House
Posted: Fri Dec 02, 2016 10:01 pm
They had not made any specific arrangements, obviously, and Angela was not sure how much her father was supposed to know. Clearly the details would be kept from him but would he know that they were meeting? And on what pretext?
She need not have worried. Inevitably her mother had got it all under control. It was just as well that Ann had agreed because her mother was coming like it or not. And the double meaning was not lost on Angela, even though it still sent strange goosebumps through her.
"I have some bedding for you," her mother said innocently, "I will bring it over Wednesday evening, if that's alright?"
"Are you sure mum? You don't mind?"
"Of course not, dear."
And so it was. Wednesday seemed to arrive like an express train. There was her mother with a bag of bedding and a look that could only be called expectant.
"So how does this work," she panted.
"Don't you want a drink or something?"
"Don't be silly."
"Okay, okay. Just try and calm down, please."
"I am sorry, you have no idea..."
"Actually, this time I do," she interrupted. But that does not make it any easier for me. So," she paused, deliberately, "listen carefully. I will go in first. I don't want you to take off anything. I still am not comfortable with the idea of seeing you naked, but once I am set I won't have any choice in the matter. The door will close, and then you can take your clothes off and stand as I did. The door will then open. I don't know exactly what will happen next but Ann will answer any questions you have and then offer you a try. If it is anything like normal you will have to restrain yourself, but from then on Ann is in control."
"Will I have to wait long?"
"No, part of the magic is the passing of time. What seems like a minute or two out here can be ten or fifteen minutes, or more inside. I do not know what she is planning for me or you."
Angela had never seen her mother like this. It was almost frightening, or maybe a little revolting. She stripped feeling ridiculously self conscious. She had not been naked in front of her mother for a very long time. Her mother kept a discreet distance but did not avert her eyes.
"You are keeping well," she said.
Angela stood and the door opened. She heard a feint gasp behind her.
"So it is true..."
Angela went in quickly. She surveyed the scene and her stomach leapt towards her mouth. Ann did not say anything. She did not have to.
There were two chairs less than two feet apart, facing each other. They were simple wooden chairs with relatively high backs. She could see straps on the front legs and several others on the back. To the right side of each was a side table with a gag and nipple weights. A conventional wand vibrator was taped on each seat. Angela had no doubts that it would be perfectly placed. Both she and her mother would get a full view of what was happening if her mother agreed. And Angela was almost certain that her mother would agree.
"I suppose I can refuse?" she said
"If you do you must leave," Ann said unhelpfully, "And your mother will not be allowed in."
"Then I cannot refuse," Angela concluded. "You are not making this easy for me."
"Call it one last test," Ann said.
The chairs were parallel to the door so it made little difference which one she chose. She sat down and strapped her ankles to each leg of the chair and a second one just below each knee. There was a strap for her waist. The vibrator sat snugly lightly opening her vagina lips. The nipple devices had powerful clamps and a brass weight dangling down. The gag was padded leather tied behind her head with thongs. Finally there was a self locking clasp either side of the back, level with the seat for her wrists. She was now set. The door opened.
At first her mother was in shadow. The light of the room outside was brighter than the ambience inside. She saw her mother stop and take in the view.
"So where is this Ann?"
Angela mewed pathetically. Clearly she could not answer.
"I am here," Ann said, "but I have no physical form. Why are you here?"
"I am concerned about the welfare of my daughter."
"As you can see, she is perfectly safe."
"I suppose that is a matter of opinion. Did you do this?"
"I can only provide the materials. Angela has to put them on herself."
"How do I know that you mean her no harm?"
"I suppose you cannot know. You can only accept or reject my assurances. But I have also provided you with a demonstration. If you want to stay, you must take your place opposite Angela. Or you may leave."
"What if anything goes wrong?"
"Nothing that goes on in here is carried outside unless I allow it. Even if you had a heart attack and died in here you would get up and leave as if nothing had happened. But I cannot stop you having another heart attack outside if it really is your time. What matters is that Angela is in no danger while she is in here, and neither are you. The heart attack was an example not some sort of clarevoyancy."
"I think I understand."
"Are you going to stay?"
"I would not miss this for the world."
"Angela gave me that impression. You know what you must do. The wrist clamps are self locking. Everything else you must do yourself. You will find that the vibrating wand is perfectly placed for you although, currently, it is inert."
Her mother came into Angela's view. There was something slightly surreal about a naked woman with her mother's head on her. The figure was aged but not in bad condition really. She could now see clearly both the nipple piercings and the rings in her labia. There was also a tattoo that Angela knew nothing about.
Her mother did not immediately sit down but inspected Angela. Angela felt herself go hot as before. She would have loved the floor to open up and swallow her or maybe Scotty could have beamed her up. Anything to get away. But, of course, she was held firm, mostly by her own handiwork.
"Simple and effective," her mother said, with a clear tone of approval. "Right, let's get on with this."
Her mother was clearly excited. She wasted little time buckling herself to the chair. She did not even wince at the nipple clamps and weights. The gag was put on with the ease of someone who had done it many times before. One wrist, two wrists and she was set. Angela looked, and felt almost like she was looking in a mirror, except that the woman staring back was a much older version.
They waited. Angela was used to this but her mother was clearly expectant. She was not fighting her bonds but her face was now flushed, as Angela's had been. Suddenly there was a flash in her eyes and a tension in her limbs. But Angela felt nothing. Clearly her mother's vibrator was working but maybe not enough. She could see tension and maybe a little frustration in her mother.
There was a muffled howl. Angela could only guess that the vibrator had been turned off or at least down.
Watching her mother had been a good distraction from her own needs. She was getting conscious of the unfamiliar pressure on her nipples. As expected, her own vibrator started up, but now Angela expected it to stop again before she could climax. Would she be a good spectacle for her mother? For now she closed her eyes and concentrated on her own body. She tried desperately to relax and enjoy rather than push for an orgasm. She was starting to lose when it went still.
She opened her eyes to see her mother staring, almost in disbelief. May be it was disbelief, but this was Angela's domain. She knew the rules. Her goal was to resist. As she watched her mother it was clear that her goal was to climax, but Ann was having none of it.
The next burst was more powerful. Angela was convinced that it would slow down or stop again but instead she felt herself reach the point of no return. She tensed involuntarily as her body hung on the brink. Surely Ann would stop it but no. Her composure failed her. She now fought against the straps as the vibrator buzzed on relentlessly. Through a haze she could see her mother fighting also, but it was unclear whether she was in orgasmic bliss or frustration. Angela no longer cared.
Nothing else mattered now. The first one had taken her by surprise but had not been that powerful. Continued stimulation after climax was an unfathomable mixture of both pleasure and pain. Had she been free and controlling it she was almost certain that she would lighten up until the sensitivity lessened, but instead the vibrator buzzed on with what could even have been increasing speed. There was no escaping it. He hips were wedged to the back of the chair and the seat and the vibrator was actually parting her vaginal lips. Nevertheless she still tried desperately to get off the vibrations, fighting her bondage. She could not even bend forward to relieve the strain on her groin.
One, two, three, four, why did she count? five... that plateau again. For what seemed like an age she tensed and vibrated, her whole body in sync with the wand between her legs. It was almost more pain than pleasure. The release as she climaxed was out of this world.
This time the vibrator slowed, taking her down gently. She basked in the glow and the aftermath before remembering that her mother was just feet away from her.
She opened her eyes, unaware that she had closed them. The woman opposite was in the same orgasmic bliss that Angela herself had been in. Was that what she looked like? Angela could see the strain of muscles and the beads of sweat. The eyes tightly closed and the strain on her face. She could actually identify the climax when the chest tried to break free and bend over and the gasp of realisation that it was not over yet.
Angela could not tell whether the continuation was wanted or endured. She watched the build up. She watched the straining. She was almost certain that her mother was in seventh Heaven. The last big climax shuddered through. Was that relief or disappointment she could now see in her mother's face?
There was a feint click in the wrist cuffs. It would seem that this time she would have to release everything else herself. Her first action was to unclip her left nipple and she almost feinted from the pain. She quickly; released the other one and was grateful that most of her body was still being held firm. Her mother was still regaining her composure and her wrist were still held firm. Angela undid her gag. She then set about releasing the straps that held her to the chair.
"I want you to free your mother," Ann told her.
Angela resisted the temptation to ask why.
Her mother must have heard. Angela was about to undo the gag, but Ann spoke again,
"No. Do not take the gag out."
Again Angela was curious but said nothing. From her own experience she decided that it might be best to start with the nipples. She could see her mother watching but unable to either encourage or complain. It was almost reassuring to see the reaction as the blood returned to her nipples. The strain in her wrists was evident and Angela waited until she had calmed down again before continuing. Angela then released her legs before undoing the belts at her waist and chest. The wrist cuffs clicked almost simultaneous with the undoing of the last belt.
"You may take the gag out as you leave," Ann declared.
The door opened. Angela knew better than to dally now.
"Would you like something to drink before you go? It is still early, as I said, it only takes and hour of real time, no matter what happens in there."
It felt awkward. Clearly neither of them knew what to say.
"Wow, what a ride," her mother said eventually. "Thank you for that. You have made your mother very happy, if a little jealous."
"Yes, I have waited a lifetime for such an experience, and may never get another one."
"Oh I don't know. Ann may let you in again."
"She might, but I saw how embarrassed you were. No, this is your play not mine. I am satisfied that you are in no danger. Let nothing more be said of it. And that includes my self bondage games."
"No buts. I am getting too old for this anyway and you do not need the added pressure of looking after your mother's sexual fantasies."
"We shall see," Angela said quietly.
"No, I will be off. Thanks again. You are a very lucky girl."
She watched her mother get into the car and drive away. Part of her wanted to be able to accommodate her mother, and the rest was relieved that she did not have to. She closed the front door onto the world and made herself a hot chocolate.
Re: The Witch House
Posted: Wed Dec 07, 2016 7:14 pm
With her mother off her back, at least for now, Angela felt less pressurised and stressed. In truth, the so called test had been easy enough. Once she had immobilised herself things had been out of her control. In many ways it had not been her mother, just another woman and it was not as if she had touched her sexually herself. The act of untying had not caused any problems either making her think that possibly she could rescue her mother in an emergency without too much embarrassment. Her mother had nullified the arrangement for now, but maybe that had been a thing of the moment. Angela was certain that her mother would go back to her self bondage, looking for that elusive thrill. It occurred to Angela that she might even be able to provide it, even without Ann's help, but to do so would breach several moral codes of modern society. Perhaps she could hire a professional Dominatrix? Her mother would probably not go for that and her father would be even less enamoured if he found out.
Angela had read somewhere that men think of sex every 9 minutes or so. It seemed a little exaggerated, and probably not true all the time. Perhaps when not occupied? What was becoming clear was that she was now thinking about sex, or at least bondage sex, most of her solitary time, even while driving. She was becoming a little obsessed and it could not be healthy, could it?
So far she had managed to limit herself to no more than once a week. The chastity device had not really bothered her. Yes, she had used her vibrator regularly, but not every night, and maybe, even, not every week. Her days of surfing the Net for sexual gratification were long gone. She now had the real thing so pictures, or even videos had little to offer her. She had looked up Zentai suits, just for interest. There were links to mummification or rubber encasement implying that these were either similar or progressions from Zentai. As Angela had no control over what happened in the room it was sort of academic, but Angela found herself wondering whether she would like such things? She was not conscious of any sort of claustrophobia or aversions to rubber but, on the other hand, had no real cravings or anticipations for them either. She guessed that it would be quite difficult to mummify yourself although she could envisage standing on a turntable which, once set in motion would do it automatically. Was that really self bondage? Come to think of it, what she was doing was more than what her mother was capable of on her own. She had said as much. One thing was certain: she had no desires to try anything on her own, outside the room.
She seemed to have more energy and focus than before. Her work metrics were up and she had regained some of the enthusiasm and enjoyment from her work that had been fading with familiarity and repetition. Even her friends had noticed a change which she was finding hard to explain away.
"She's got a new fellah," one had suggested.
Her denials had been met with disbelief.
"I am enjoying being in my own house," she said. It was perfectly true, but...
"Well I am getting married."
"I didn't even know you were seeing anybody."
The gasps came from all directions, Angela included.
Marie showed off her ring. It must have set someone back half a year's wages at least.
"Come on then, spill the beans. Who is he and why haven't we heard about him?"
"Well it's not something we tend to discuss," Marie said defensively. "I am sure that I have mentioned Paul before now. I met him at an office social. We sort of clicked and have been seeing each other for some time. Then he gave me this. I hadn't seen it coming, but, I said yes."
"Have you set a date?"
"No, he doesn't want to rush into it. I am meeting his parents next week."
"You haven't even met his parents?"
"No, and he hasn't met mine either."
"Have you slept with him?"
"Slept yes, but not had sex. He wants to keep that until our wedding night."
"I think it's cute. Does that mean he's a virgin?"
"Well I am."
"I am, honest."
Angela could actually believe it. There was often banter about sexual encounters but she was almost certain that Marie had always kept in the background on those occasions.
"Well, I think you should try before you buy."
Barbara, or 'Babs' as she was usually known, was always a bit outspoken.
"Oh I don't know." Angela chirped in, "When I lost my virginity it hurt like hell. Perhaps it would put her off."
"Too late if you're already married."
"I think that's my point," Angela said.
"Don't spoil it for her. I have always enjoyed my sex."
"You're just a slut."
Angela was quite pleased that the conversation had veered away from her, despite her little revelation about her first, and little did they know, only, sexual encounter.
The rest of the evening was spent discussing boyfriends and Paul in particular. Angela was able to talk about John without revealing his little secret, or her's for that matter. They then started planning a hen night.
"Hold on," Marie said, "we haven't set a date yet. It might not be for a year or more."
"It will take that long to find a date for the Chippendales."
"I am not sure they do private shows, especially in England"
"I doubt that we could afford them either."
"I am sure we can come up with something, though."
"I am regretting telling you already."
"Well a rock like that would have been hard to explain away."
"I guess so."
Angela had more mixed feelings about the news when she thought about it back in her house. It probably marked the start of the break up of the group, and she had got used to it. The last thing she wanted was to become isolated so that she spent more and more time seeking thrills under Ann's tender mercies. She would do everything she could to keep things going even if the numbers started to dwindle due to changes in circumstances or just plain moving on.
As it was her next meeting with John was a little strained. She was not sure whether to bring up the subject of his boyfriend and, or, bondage. As it happened he actually asked her directly,
"Have you ever been tied up?"
She had half anticipated the question and prepared a noncommittal answer.
"I was once captured in a game at camp, but it wasn't sexual. They tied me to the tent pole. It was just a bit of fun I suppose."
It was a complete fantasy but John was not to know it.
"Aren't you even curious?"
"I suppose so, but it's none of my business really."
"The first time he tied me up I thought I had pissed myself, but it wasn't piss."
"Too much information," Angel said quietly. "I am pleased for you, I really am, but what you get up to is between you."
"Sorry, I don't want to embarrass you."
"I am not embarrassed, just not particularly interested," she lied. In truth, she was more than curious but afraid of where it might lead.
"Just tell me one thing, do you suck his dick?"
"First time I almost choked, but yes, I do it, usually when he has tied my hands."
She thought of a few more things to ask but decided to bide her time. Clearly it was going to become a regular topic of conversation and it might be wise to keep it focussed on him rather than risking him getting wind of what she was now up to. She would have to be careful not to sound too knowledgeable.
"I can't say that I have thought much about how two men would have sex. I mean it's not like you can have intercourse."
"The first time he entered my ass I thought I would burst but I quite like it now."
"Again, too much information."
Her mind immediately went back to when Ann made something go into her ass. She knew exactly what John meant but was less convinced about ever liking it.
And of course the next Sunday lunch was a heady cocktail of secrets, and unspoken questions and answers.
"No I haven't been in the room again since," Angela said in a quiet moment.
Her mother raised an eyebrow. Probably she would have gone back in a shot, but Angela was not as hooked as she was and was desperate not to be.
"Have you tied yourself up since?"
The reaction told her even before her mum had admitted it.
"If you are going to, and I am not telling you not to, you must promise me that you have covered all emergencies and will ask me if you haven't."
"But you said..."
"Doesn't matter what I said before, I am saying this now." Angela put as much authority into her voice as possible. "Promise?"
Her mother looked both flushed and indecisive.
"Promise!" Angela repeated as firm as she could.
At that moment her father returned to the room.
"Everything all right, I thought I heard shouting."
"No just a little misunderstanding," Angela said quickly. "But I think was have sussed it, haven't we mum?"
She threw a look at her mother that would melt ice.
"Yes, of course, dear," was the submissive response.
They managed to defuse things enough not to arouse further suspicions, but before she went home Angela made sure that her mother had really agreed.
Back in the calm of her own house Angela felt an uncontrollable urge. It was not too late to scratch it either. Having ensured that the place was secure and that she would not be disturbed she presented herself, naked. The door opened.
Re: The Witch House
Posted: Fri Dec 30, 2016 12:25 pm
The room was bare, apart from a little pile of rope and some handcuffs. The light was subdued so that the edges of the room were in darkness. In truth Angela was not sure how big this room actually was? It seemed to be outside both space and, of course, time.
"Good evening Angela," Ann said, her voice devoid of emotion.
"Hi," she replied.
"Do you know what a Frog-tie is?"
"I think so, doubling back the legs but not tying them together."
"Good, go ahead then."
"What about my hands?"
"We will come to that in a minute. First your legs."
"I have never done it, though. How do I proceed?"
"A loop around your ankle, Doubled and through, then several turns over the thigh, catch and split and cinch."
Angela obeyed. It was awkward trying to get at the rope under her leg to cinch it but she just about managed it. The second one was a bit easier, perhaps because it was on her left side and her right hand had more dexterity.
"Now tie your breasts like I showed you before."
"Now tie a double length around your waist with the handcuffs at your back, but don't put them on yet."
She obeyed again.
"Now take the longer length. double it and take it around your upper body above your breast but with your arms inside it, about four turns should do then split the ends, catching one inside the original loop and tying them off to make a band of rope. Now take the last length, double it and cinch under your left arm, back once then take it over your chest and cinch under the other arm, split and tie off.
"Now cuff yourself."
Even as she moved her arms toward her back she felt the upper band pulling at them. When her wrists were secure she had virtually no movement in her arms.
"Very clever," she murmured, "now what?"
"Now you wait."
"Wait for what?"
The light went out.
It was as if she had her eyes closed, but they were wide open. This was blackness like she had never known, or knew existed. She literally could not see a thing. She shivered involuntarily.
She was kneeling, of course, her legs comfortably apart. She was now conscious that her sex was completely exposed, but there was nothing here, was there? She strained her ears.
Was it her imagination or had the temperature dropped? She was definitely shivering, but was it cold or fear?
She squirmed. It was pointless and she knew it. The handcuffs would stay locked until Ann released them, and the ropes were secured by her own hands.
She heard something. A noise. A rushing perhaps? No, lost of tapping, like, oh God no! little feet? Which direction?
She closed her legs but that made her kneeling precarious. She did not want to fall over.
It was getting closer.
Still she could see nothing.
They were on her. She had not idea what they were. Too big to be ants, too small to be rodents. They went up her legs and onto her body. For now her breasts seemed inaccessible until something found the top route. She was covered up to her neck. Some had even managed to get between her legs at the back.
She had no idea. It could have been minutes, or even seconds but it felt like hours. She knelt almost motionless, her mouth tightly shut, her eyes also, Nothing reached her face but her body tingled like never before. Mercifully, there was no pain.
Then they were gone. Like a passing storm or a miniature stampede She was left in silence her body still tingling and feeling like it was being crawled on.
She felt a familiar vibration between her legs and opened them slightly.
She almost did not hear the little creatures return.
Her senses went wild,
She fought to control herself as the swarm returned but the vibrations were now more powerful. She was rocking, She had to open her legs and the void was immediately filled. She now shook and twisted trying to dislodge what ever they were but she was now starting to shake, her body in tune with the relentless vibrations.
Eventually the vibrator won, as it was always going to.
She might have fallen over while the hoard was there, she might not, she could not be certain. The climaxes made her see stars as if the room had been set alight with fireworks.
She passed out her senses overloaded.
She was still bound, She struggled back to her knees confused. The light was back.
"So what were they?"
One little cockroach looked at her and then scurried away.
"They are actually very clean animals despite their reputation."
"Fear is a powerful stimulant. Whether it is actual, or just perceived, it hightens the senses and makes your climaxes more powerful. I make no apologies. You come, you accept what I give."
"Can I go now?"
The handcuffs sprung open.
"Until next time."
She had to untie herself. Several of the knots had over tightened but Ann offered no assistance, not even a pair of scissors or a knife. Eventually she was free. She hurried out and upstairs. She desperately needed a shower.
Despite everything she slept soundly with no nightmarish visions of swarming roaches. Perhaps even her subconscious was cleansed by the magic of the room? No consequences? Not even mental trauma? What else would Ann come up with? She had suggested actual bodily harm or even death was possible? The orgasms this time had been out of this world! She would have to wait and see if the next ones would match or even better them,