© Copyright 2006 - Rubberwolf - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; bond; latex; vac; susp; cage; cons; X
Ann stood on the ferry and took in the stark, grey, panorama from the deck rail, as the ship pulled headed towards the small jetty. A little research, before leaving, had revealed that there were two ferries a day. This, Ann believed, would be to enable the islanders to commute to school, or work. She had chosen the morning service, as this would afford her a look at the island upon arriving. She wished now that she had opted for a lie in bed.
Although relatively calm, whitecaps were beginning to form on the tops of the waves, indicating a force four, perhaps five wind, in the captains estimate. Thick grey seemed to cling to the clouds and the waves, as the cold wind seemed to suck the warmth from under the thick coat that Ann clutched about her like a sacred talisman.
When the ferry had set off, the sun was just coming over the horizon, casting bands of orange, in a cool glow that hinted the promise of later warmth. Now she understood the lie behind that illusion. The landscape of the island was plain and drab. For nearly twenty minutes the ferry had circled the island, heading for seaward. Although Ann had seen a harbour, with many small boats, the deeper anchorage, which could be used by the ferry, lay on the West of the island.
Her first sight of the port was as uninspiring as the journey. Brightly coloured houses attempting to drive back the gloom of the season and attempt to banish the harshness from the weather, but to no avail. No amount of paint, even on such sturdy stone cottages, could disguise the fact that this is the armpit of nowhere. An ideal place then, if you intended to set up a some sort of alternate lifestyle commune.
This feeling of oppression, although remaining, like the aftertaste of a bad wine, began to disappear very quickly, once she had arrived. The houses were still as brightly painted as ever and many of the locals wore heavy coats and fishing boots. But occasionally, the true nature of the island was revealed. Ann's occasional passerby, clad in rubber, with impossibly high heels, would stride past, like a garish peacock of shiny smooth perfection. A girl, nearly naked, but for her leather adornments, emerged from one of the shops, lead by her master, as he tugged upon the dog leash attached to a thick, leather, collar around her neck. At one point she stumbled and it was then, as she struggled to maintain her balance that Ann realised that her arms were securely tied behind her back. At last, they arrived at the hotel and booked in.
The first two days, despite being very interesting, (Dave lead her by a leash, while she was dressed in tight rubber, shackles, high heels and an inflatable gag, in a repeat of the methods that they had used in the club.) especially after Ann and Dave had explored their hotel room, complete with en suite dungeon, produced no results. Ann had decided that they had two chances. Once would be to explore the other village, on the Eastern side of the island. The other would be to wait until the festival that everybody had been talking about in two days time.
In the mean time, Ann had more exploring to do. For the last two days, she had tried out all that the dungeon had to offer, starting with something called a vacuum bed, which sucked the air out from between the plastic sheets and the bed, pining her between them, only able to breath through a vacuum cleaners flexi hose forced between her teeth. All the while that she had been pinned, like a naked bug on display, a dildo had buzzed deep within her pussy, while Dave chewed on her nipples, beat her with a paddle or removed the air hose and forced her to swallow his member, coming into her mouth.
The most humiliating thing though was that, once she had cleaned his member, Dave had pissed down her throat. She tried to spit it out, to gag, she even thought about biting it, but Dave kept pressed firmly against her, as she tried not to throw up, with the vile taste within her mouth. Finally, running out of air, she realised that she had not option. She had struggled vainly against her plastic prison, had tried to scream through her fleshy prison, but at last she realised there was only one option open to her and she swallowed Dave’s piss. Once she had taken all that was forced upon her, Dave replace the breathing tube. Later, after another futile battle, her own urine seeped into the bed, spreading out as the vacuum pump sucked avidly, to cover her like a film of sweat, lying in her own filth until morning, when she was released.
The next night, she spent suspended in a wire cage, straight from the pages of a medieval torture chamber. It was, she believed, called a gibbet, or something like. A wire cage in the shape of a body, including head and legs. The cage opened into two halves. Ann, dressed in a leather harness and a ball gag, stepped inside. Even before being closed, Ann began to revel in the confines of her prison. Dave slid the cage closed and padlocked it. Then, using a winch to haul a chain attached to the top of the gibbet, Dave pulled her prison up into the air until it touched the ring in the oak ceiling beam, so that her prison hung some three feet above the floor. Again, Dave subject her to all manner of deliciously humiliating experiences.
They would explore the other village tomorrow, but for tonight, Ann wished to try out one last contraption. It stood as a three-foot cage like structure, with a bench in the middle, about two feet high. Ann, wearing a ring gag, white rubber corset, white stockings and white ballet boots, crawled into the cage so that she was laying on the bench. She lowered her breasts into the two holes cut into the bench. The holes were quite tight, and Dave had to pull her breasts through the holes, before attaching a pair of nipple clamps. These clamps were connected, by wire, to the base of the cage. Dave adjusted the wires so that Ann’s nipples were pulled painfully taught.
Next her manacled her ankles and wrists to the sides of the frame. Finally, a metal ring was placed around her head, to keep it facing forward, while another was passed over her waist, securing her to the bench. Dave lowered a pole contraption behind her. He aligned the dildo, attached to one end, directly with her pussy lips, before securing the pole. Another pole was attached to this, so that it angled about two inches higher. A second dildo attached to this pole and aligned this with her anus ring. Dave lubricated both dildos, as well as her orifices.
Finally, another, longer pole, already affixed to the underside of the bench was, after rotating an arm into position, was clamped to the poles already in place. The other end of this pole had a bend which curved the pole upwards towards the mouth. A final dildo, after a little adjustment, was positioned in front of the ring gag. Dave pushed this final dildo all the way into Ann’s mouth, almost forcing her to gag, before bolting it into place. Ann was now trapped. She could not move at all, but she knew what was to come. Dave had explained it to her in great detail, as he had also explained that the dildo in her mouth was only one of several attachments to go with this device. He could also place a seat in front of her head and force her to pleasure another person, who could also be restrained, if he so chose.
Finally, all of the bolting and positioning complete, Dave stood so that Ann could see him holding the remote. Giving her a wry grin, Dave pushed a button and the sound of a generator started behind her. After what seemed like an eternity, Dave pushed another button and, with a hiss of air, the pneumatics rammed the dildos violently into her ass and pussy, while the same stroke caused the mouth cock to pull back. Almost as quickly as it had started, another hiss emptied the piston, causing it to pull back, so that the dildos in her rear and pussy pulled out, while the one in her mouth forced its way to the back of her throat, almost causing her to gag. Once this had returned to its starting position, it again leapt forward to plunge into her pussy and now red anus.
The first stroke had been a shock, forcing a violent grunt from her. Ann watched as the dildo left her mouth, before lurching quickly towards her. Her scream of surprise being cut short by the violent intruders return to her mouth.
After she had gotten used to the rhythm, perhaps several minutes later and her own juices were now lubricating the dildos, Dave bent down towards her face.
“That’s level 1. What do your think,” he asked as he cocked his head? “Why don’t we try level 3? It’s slightly faster and I think I will increase the length of the stroke.”
Ann tried to protest, she was already a little sore, but Dave simply stood up and walked to the back of the cage. She could not turn her head, or protest too strongly, as the machine was still pumping into her, but she knew when he had made the adjustments. The stroke was definitely longer, as the dildo was forced deeper into her, stretching her inside with force and insistence. Also, the speed of each stroke was now quicker, so that she had to adjust to the new harsher regime.
Ann did not know how long she was strapped into the cage. She lost count of orgasms and time blurred and lost its meaning, as she was rammed unmercifully by the machine, her grunts and moans lost amidst the steam engine noises of the infernal contraption in which she was imprisoned. Finally, she passed out, waking to find herself sprawled out in bed, her hands and feet chained to the bedposts and Dave asleep, sprawled across her. She was sore, her muscles ached and she would have trouble walking tomorrow, but God it was worth it.