© Copyright 2004 - Anna - Used by permission
Storycodes: FF/mf; latex; bondage; furniture; cons; X
· Do you get bored watching your slave while he is being punished? Shouldn’t punishment just be done, leaving you to get on with something more useful?
· Fancy playing a computer game where your slave gets the punishment for your mistakes?
· Have you every wanted, just once, to get your mistress back?
If either of the answers to these questions are ‘Yes’, read on. Okay,
this is an advert, well, sort of, but let me explain.
My name is Dave. I am a computer engineer. I look after the computers, networks and such like, that companies use to do whatever it is that they do. Currently, I work for Domination Games. It’s a small start-up firm, fairly local to where I live.
When my last company made me redundant after eight years of hard graft, I was a little depressed and unsure of myself. It is not easy being told that you are no longer required. As it happens, Domination Games were just starting up and advertised in our local paper for an engineer. Thinking it was a sign from up above, I popped along for an interview and, lo, was offered a position. It was a good thing for me, personally. The firm was small and friendly; just what I needed to build up my self-confidence again. The job also required me to bring to bear some of my older skills, such as electronic engineer, which do not seem to be needed anymore.
The firm was run by Annette, a forceful and confident woman, which is what you would expect in a start-up company nowadays. There were also two programmers, Trevor and Paula, and then there was me. It was explained to me that I was employed not only because I was a good computer engineer, which actually, I am, but also had an electronics degree. This qualification would become more important later on, I was told. The thing that would take Domination Games into the future, would be the additional modules that provided feedback to the player. I assumed that this was a game console, with interactive controls, like joysticks and so further. It is the natural progression, joysticks with active feedback. If you are flying through bad weather, won’t the joystick become more difficult to use? It makes perfect sense.
The game itself has a great plot. The purpose of the game is to gain
domination over the whole universe. Each player is equipped with a spaceship
or two, depending on the mode, and a home planet. Every time you return
to your home planet, your ship gets fixed, your health is revitalised and
your guns are re-armed.
Fine, nothing unusual there then. Ah, here’s the rub. You can also ‘fly’ your planet. It is obviously slower than your spaceship, but it is also pretty indestructible.
There are a couple of rules about flying planets. If your planet hits someone else’s planet head on, both planets are destroyed and all players on either of the planets are killed – end over!
If your planets hits another at less than 45 degrees, both planets are deflected appropriately. Using this tactic, you can ‘push’ a planet into the path of another, so destroying both of them. But moving planets is a slow business, so you can just zip about in your spaceship, killing the other players. However, while you are off killing people, if someone happens to destroy your planet, you would not know about it until you try to get home for refuelling and so on, only to find your planet is not where you left it! You could be left floating in space, no fuel and no ammo’, until some one pops you off, or the game ends.
Sounds fairly interesting, but the real killer part is that this is an internet game. Each universe has over 500 planets and not every planet has a dictator hell bent on total domination. You have to find your opponents before you can kill them. The game ends when there is only one player left capable fighting, and field trials have shown that the average game lasts over 24 hours.
That is enough about the game for a moment. You might like to think about the possibilities of the game (or download the single user demo from our website – there are lots of hints on how to be an absolute bastard, which is needed if you wish to rule the universe!)
Things got a little complicated after I had been working at DomGames for about six weeks. We had all packed up early and popped down the pub to celebrate our first true internet trial. After many weeks of successful testing, we had finally opened the flood gates to the public for a free weekend mass trial. We had carefully seeded the ‘net with clues relating to the games existence. We did this in order to get the best gamers interested and keep the riff raff out. We wanted them to play hard ball. We were running only five games con-currently, although the servers could actually handle many hundreds. I had made sure of that, they were my ‘babies’.
I got home about seven, well relaxed. It was all very exciting. I decided
to get tarted up a little more than normal, to celebrate. I selected a
nice evening dress and longish red wig. I have always been proud of the
fact that I can cross dress quite convincingly, as long as you close your
eyes and look the other way!
As the pizza was cooking, I decided to check on the progress of the game, so I logged on to the ‘net and slipped through the back door to the console to see how many people were playing. What I actually found was that the server had crashed. We had had a hard drive crash; one of those million to one chances – f**k!
I turned the pizza off and stood in the kitchen thinking. We had plenty of spare discs in the workshop and to replace the faulty one would take about five minutes. The game would be back up and running within ten minutes, however it had taken me over twenty minutes to get dressed up and I really didn’t want to wash it all off again after one a couple of minutes. It was dark outside and as I looked at my reflection on the kitchen door window, I thought ‘what the hell’. I pass as long as you don’t stare too close. The offices were on an industrial park, so there would be no one apart from the security staff walking about, and as I have a pass and keys, they would not bother me. I would be back in twenty minutes.
So grabbing a handbag and jacket, I slipped out and drove back to the office.
On Monday morning, I was called in by Annette. She must have found out about the iffy disc, and it’s miraculous replacement. She was bound to say thanks, but what was making me smile, as I walked towards her office, was the thought that no one knew that I was done up to the nines while I replaced the disc.
Annette welcomed me as I entered her office.
“So Dave, I understand we have to thank you for fixing a broken disc over the weekend, so ensuring the trial was a success.”
I smiled, “I understand the game went very well. The logs also show that we had a number of people trying to crack our security systems, which I guess is a complement, in a way.”
“Yes but we are particularly interested in this person.” Annette placed a piece of paper on her desk. Although low quality, it was a picture of a rather attractive woman entered the office, in an evening dress.
“Interestingly enough, this person, which we have several other pictures of, as she moves through the office, gained access with your ID badge.”
“We were fascinated to learn that this person is not an international spy, which the evening gown would suggest, trying to steal our secrets, but merely popped in to fix a broken hard drive, and after a quick pee, in the gent’s for some reason, left.”
“Look, Dave. I just want to say thanks, for fixing the disc.”
“Er. No problem.”
“It must have been a real pain, having to leave that fancy dress party…”
“… but we do appreciate it, really.”
“The team, here. We are all members of the board, so are you, by the way. The success of the company is dependent on the success of the game, and we all do what we can to ensure its success.”
“It took a lot of courage to come back here, so attired, knowing that there are security cameras about the place.”
“Yes. Well, it needed to be done… the disc, I mean…”
“Good girl. Anyway, as luck would have it, I am holding a party this weekend, for some potential customers, do come along.”
“Emphasise on the last word, okay?”
“Oh. If you say so…”
As I walked back to my office, a couple of things were going through my mind. Firstly, she had called me ‘girl’, twice. Secondly, there was that ‘we’ thing. I could now expect a never-ending stream of digs and snipes. Thank God it was not an open plan office.
By the time Friday came along, no one had said anything. Maybe they
hadn’t seen the picture or didn’t realise it was me. No, that would be
too unlikely. I had assumed Annette would have told everyone.
This dilemma was solved just before closing time. Paula came over and asked what time I was planning to get to the party.
“Are you going to?”
“We all are.”
“Oh.” Annette hadn’t mentioned that everyone else would be there. So that was her plan. Instead of telling everyone, she could show them. Paula interrupted my thought.
“I think we are expected by half seven. That will give us time to get ready.”
“Oh, yes. It is more work than play. We will have to mingle, push the game and so far. Mistress Annette will do most of the sales stuff. We will just have to answer questions when asked. Apart from that, it is just fetching drinks and so on.”
“Don’t hang about too long. You really don’t want to be late.”
“One other thing, as it will be your first time.”
“Make up should be on the tarty side.”
“You do not want to even appear to be trying to upstage the Mistress of the house.”
With that, she was gone.
I picked a knee length purple dress to wear. It was less formal that a floor sweeper, and so, I hoped, less of a challenge to Annette. Funny, she did not seem to be the sort of person who was be afraid of being up staged… and from a cross dresser? Which she invited anyway! None of this made any sense. I guess she knew what she was doing, although the idea of a cross-dresser at a sales bash did seem a little strange.
I arrived a few minutes after seven thirty. The door was opened by Paula,
so hissed me inside quickly.
“Only a little bit… Hey, nice outfit.” She was wearing a PVC French maid outfit.
“Glad you like it, yours is upstairs.”
“Yes, and for God sake, hurry up. We are reporting for final instructions in less than five minutes. Go on, git…”
It was obvious that there was an awful lot more to this than I understood or could have guessed. I went upstairs and located the only room that was not locked. Inside, on the bed, was a maid outfit, just like Paula’s.
I quickly got out of my dress and into the maid’s. As I looked at myself in the mirror, PVC maid outfit, my normal four inch heels, make up and wig, I just had to smile. I had no idea what was actually going on, but one thing was sure. Anything that involved PVC clad maids, male and female, as a norm was definitely going to be fun. My life was looking up at last.
I caught up with Paula in the kitchen with only a few seconds to spare.
Annette entered as Paula was straightening my apron. She definitely looked
the part, although I was not sure what her part was. Spike heeled patent
boot, beautifully laced to the knee. A tight leather skirt, also knee length.
As Annette walked over to us, I noticed that this skirt had no spilt or
vent, so snapped tight with every step she took. The top was one of those
satin corset tops, very fashionable these days, topped by an expensive
looking bolero jacket. Annette also wore a leather hat, at a perky angle
and carried a pair of gloves, which she swished about dramatically.
“You’re both here, good. Trevor set?”
“Yes.” Paula smiled and did a little curtsy.
Annette turned to me.
“Right. Give us a twirl…”
“Good. What’s your name…”
“No, your girl’s name… He’s such a popette.” Annette smiled towards Paula
“I don’t have one.”
“Well, think of one quick.”
“No… too fancy.”
“I know, ginger!” Paula suggested.
“Hmmm. Yes, I like that. Ginger it is.”
I looked from Annette to Paula and then back again. Don’t I get a say in this?
“Okay. As Ginger is new here, I will go through the whole speech again,
just to make sure you understand. Our guests are the movers and shakers
in the SM and bondage scene for the whole of Europe. They have considerable
buying power and we have to impress them. They have their own rules and
expect you to behave and react according to them.”
I sneaked a glance at Paula. She looked as if this was old news.
“You will always address them as Sir or Ma’am. If you do not know how to react, think back to when you were at primary school and how you reacted to teachers then. Treat them with…”
“… respect tinged with a little bit of fear…” Paula injected.
“That’s right… but remember the golden rule… Do not call them Mistress or Master, unless you are willing to accept the consequences. Now get to it, they will be arriving any minute.”
Paula grabbed my hand, and we skitted to wait by the front door.
“Paula…” I whispered, although we were the only people in the hall, it seemed only nature to whisper.
“What?” She whispered back, but remained at attention, staring straight ahead.
“By calling some one Mistress or Master, you are accepting them as your dominar.”
“You must call Annette Mistress Annette all night. That way, she has ownership over you.”
“But I don’t want to be owned by Annette…”
“Oh, it’s not real with her… just think of it as protection.”
“Although it can be hers if that is what you like…”
“No… well, a tiny bit, but nothing serious…”
“Well, this crowd is serious, very serious, so be careful.”
“Trevor called some one Mistress one night, and he woke up in a packing crate in Frankfurt.”
“Yea, but he is into that stuff anyway.”
“It caused a hell of a stink in the scene though, as he belongs to Annette.”
“Oh. Where is Trevor anyway?”
Paula nodded her head towards the living room and whispered “Table…”
I sneaked a peak, before returning to attention, there was no one there.
“There’s no one by the table…”
“Not by the table, he is the table.”
I looked again. Under the glass top, all I make out was an irregular black blob.
“It’s a rubber casing thing. He has to balance the top on his back, while sort of kneeing on his toes and fingers. It takes ages to get him bound up correctly.”
“If he relaxes and lets the top settle on the casing, his air is cut off.”
“Ah… really weird.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll appreciate it a lot more after spending an hour or two in it.”
“Coz I want you too and I’m your senior.” Paula gave me an evil grin.
Just then the front door bell rang.
The evening passed mostly without incident. I did my bit as a French
Maid, Sir-ing here, Ma’am-ing there. Some of the people were really nice
and friendly, others were just too bound up in the ‘scene’; those really
creeped me out. You had to be very very careful what you said. One tiny
German lady insisted on giving me a quick smack with her riding crop every
time I was within reach. She would then tell me that if I was her’s, I
would be sporting numerous manacles, plastic knickers and inflatable helmets
at this very moment. Tempting though it was to take her crop away and stick
it where the sun don’t shine, in order to preserve the success of the party,
hence my job and so on, I simply apologised for my incompetence and moved
After the fourth time, I begged Paula to swap sides of the room. I said I would do anything, I was sure the last whipping had permanently scared my thigh.
At one point, I had to carefully explain to one of the Mistresses that she should not sit on the table. I had spotted that Trevor was having a bit of bother, as the rubber sides were flapping in and out at a worrying rate, so I politely explained to Ma’am that the glass top was not designed to support a person’s weight and if it broke, the shards of glass may damager her boots. She quickly got up. I had correctly assumed that the fact that someone was suffocating under her ample butt was of no interest. This episode was rewarded by a smile from ‘Mistress’ Annette and a lot of ragging from some of the more observant guests, for being ‘Mistresses Pet’.
The only other point of interest was when I encountered a fellow engineer. We had both been to the same college and had had the same lecturers. Although he said I should drop all the Sir stuff, I only dropped it to one ‘Sir’ for every three sentences, after all he was actually quite well known in the Engineering world and accordingly rich, whereas I was serving drinks in a PVC French Maid outfit, that barely covered my knickers. A degree of decorum is called for in such situations.
The party ended about two in the morning, with the last of the guests
going upstairs to their allotted rooms. Annette told us to clean up quietly
and disappeared upstairs.
“Thank God for that…” Paula sighed deeply and took off her shoes.
“We are supposed to tidy up this mess before going home?” This was no better than being hired help, and we were not even being paid.
“Well, yes and no… Firstly, ‘Yes’, we are going to tidy this mess up now, ‘No’, we are actually going to stay here tonight, as we have to do breakfast tomorrow at nine sharp.”
“Not in this outfit again? Please say it ain’t so…” The idea of PVC and eggs just don’t mix somehow.
“Yes. Make up and all… but you’ll appreciate it a lot more come the end of the month.”
“We’re getting paid for this then?” Things were suddenly looking up.
“Christ, yes… Well, you are I are, Trevor’s not…”
“Christ… Trevor… is he still… the table?”
“Don’t worry. Annette looks after Trevor.”
“So why doesn’t he get paid?”
“He likes it. You know how much he would have to pay to get that somewhere else?”
“I don’t know… but it is a lot.”
“Look, the way it works is… if you are asked to do something that is your bag, you do it for free. If it is not, then you get paid for it. If it wasn’t for Little Hitler, Annette would not pay you for tonight.”
“Well, you’re into cross dressing right?”
“Well, some cross dressers pay a lot to be allowed to be a maid at a party.”
“Possibly, but I am not one of them.”
“Stopping nit picking. Sometimes it is clear-cut, sometimes it is not. Some you win, some you lose, but the important thing is we were told to be quiet…”
“Why is that important?”
“… because that means we can take these damn heels off. I don’t know about you, but I’m nearly crippled.”
As if to remind us that we should be busy tidying and not gossiping, there was a big flop as Trevor’s table suit was dropped onto the hall floor, from the landing above, presumably by Annette.
“Right…” Paula said, “You wash that…” nodding at the rubber pile on the floor, “… and I’ll do the glasses.”
“How?” I asked.
“There is a shower in the downstairs loo. Run it under that for a while. I always get soaked as I am so short.”
“Great…” I picked up the pile and disappeared into the loo.
About twenty minutes later, Paula stuck her head around the loo door.
“Hurry up, the toasties are burning.”
“Ah… food. Great… I’m starving.”
“Sorry? I think you are forgetting something?”
“Well, you said you would do anything if I swapped sides with you…”
“… well, I need something to eat my toasties off…” She looked pointed at the now clean rubber table suit.
“Oh, come on. It’s late and I’m knackered.”
“Well, it’s either ten minutes now, or a lot longer at some other time.”
“You’re can not be serious…”
“I always thought we needed a new table in the office, say in reception…”
“You are joking…”
“… you would have to be in there all day …”
“… aren’t you?”
“… what with the postman coming in and out, may be the bank manager, salesmen etc..”
“Okay, alright already. Let’s get this over with…”
Although I had washed the suit, inside and outside, I still did not
really understand how it all worked. Paula gave me a quick run down, as
I slipped out of my maid outfit.
“The suit is really simple, really. It is vaguely a rugby ball shaped, with four legs. You climb in and put your hands in the front two legs and your feet in the rear two. The back is then zipped up and there you are.”
“Sounds easy enough.” It did sound easy, which was a bit worrying.
“Well, we also apply some binders to your hands and feet on the outside, so you can not get them out of the legs.”
Paula opened the zip and spread it out in front of me.
“Now the silly part. You have to crawl in to get the right position… so down on your hand and knees, girl.”
She was right, you feel an absolute idiot doing this, but a promise is a promise, so I crawled onto the bag. Paula eased my hands into the ‘legs’. The rubber was so thick you could hardly move them. She then applied the bracelets.
“Now try to get your hands out.” I pulled and twisted but my hands were securely held down those legs.
“Good. Don’t want you ruining my dinner.” The process was repeated for the feet.
Paula started to pull up the zip, and the bag close around me, but she stopped at my neck, leaving my head free and open for the moment.
“Okay, roll on you back.” I complied. Paula then locked some spreader bars, from hand-to-hand, foot-to-foot and hand-to-foot. She then rolled me back onto my hands and feet again.
“Now comes the tricky bit…” I could not see exactly what she was doing, but whatever it was, it had something to do with my bonds.
“The bars stop you from rushing off, but as you can see, you can move but very slowly…”
Even with the bars, I could inch forward and backwards, slowly.
“Obviously tables don’t walk about on their own…”
“No. Jolly bad form if they did” I agreed.
“So we secure the bars to a hook in the floor…”
“… which you did not see because the bag was casually lying on top of it.”
“That is something we will fix right now. This end of the bag as two air valves, which when the zip is fully done up like so… “ Paula pulled the zip up and over my head, and the bag enclosed around me, sending me into total darkness.
“You okay in there?”
“Okay in what sense? I am in an oversized rugby ball, secured to the floor. What could possibly be not okay about that?”
“Okay, okay. It will not be for long. There are two valves in front of your nose, one lets air in and the other lets it out. You can probably see bits of light come and go as you breath.”
“While the young captive is busy looking at the little lights come and go, the incredibly attractive dominar secures further straps to stop the now-helpless fool from simply standing up…”
I felt a strap tighten across my back. Bugger! I had not thought about simply standing up. While I was silently cursing myself, two more straps, one across my shoulders and another around my waist, made their presence firmly felt.
“Still okay in there?”
“I suppose so, now that I realise that I am totally and utterly tied to the floor. It’s getting a little hot in here and the air is a bit stale. Are you sure the valves are working?”
Suddenly there was a three inch circle of light in front of my face.
“Looks okay to me…”
I could see Paula hand and a bit of the rope work securing me to the floor. I lifted my head and caught a glimpse of the sofa in front of me.
“Hey, no lifting the head!” Paula bent over and peeked in the opening.
“Hi! You know how silly you look?”
“No idea, but thanks for that.” She smiled and snapped the valve back into position, sending me back into darkness.
My head was pulled down and something clicked into place somewhere. I tried lifting my head again, but could not.
“Right now the sides…”
“There is more?” I was totally immobilized as it was, what else was there to be done?
There were a few more clicks and then finally, I felt something being placed on my back. It must have been the glass tabletop.
“Okay, push up as much as you can…” I complied, if I was honest to myself, it was not as much as I could.
I could hear Paula gently humming as she moved around me, doing whatever it was that she was doing.
“Okay, relax… good. Right, you’re set. See yer…”
“Wait a minute, what do you mean ‘see you’.”
“Well, I have to go make my toasties. Open a bottle of wine and prepare my snack. It’s not as if you are going anywhere.”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
“Practice keeping the table top off the sides, if you want to breath that is.”
“Oh, I thought I had explained it all. The tube that connects your in-value to the outside world, runs through the sides. I had adjusted the height of the sides so that the top covers the holes when you relax, but when you push up, they are uncovered.”
“At the moment they are covered, so you are actually breathing the last of the air in the bag…” I pushed up “... and now they are uncovered. You learn quick.”
I heard her voice fade and the sounds of cooking. Paula had meandered off to the kitchen.
“And how long am I supposed to stay in here?”
“I said, how long am I supposed to stay like this?”
“I don’t know, as long as it takes.”
“How long what takes?”
The sounds of cooking continued. I started to replay the evening in
my mind. It was an odd experience to say the least. PVC Maid outfits, Trevor
in this thing, all evening. It seemed very remote to the people I work
with. Even Paula was very different. My thoughts were disrupted by the
sound of a plate and glass being placed on my glass back. I did not sense
any change to the weight, though.
“Ah, there is nothing like a toasty, a glass of cool white wine and putting your feet on the table.” I felt that. The top settled and my air was cut off.
“Hey!” I called out. As I did so, I noticed that the darkness was closer now. The bag was encroaching on me.
“Sorry? Did the table speak?”
“Errr. Its getting really close in here actually.”
“You finally noticed then?”
“What is going on…”
“Well, you know I said that one valve is for out?”
“Well, it would be a shame to waste all that air, so it is collected in the sides again.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Well, the inside of the sides have been slowly filling with your exhaled breath. As they can not expand outwards, they expand inwards, pushing the bag closer to your skin and pushing any remaining air out of bag. The only thing keeping you from being vacuum packed is your last breath.”
“Ivm dat dannermous…”
“So you have reached the point where the bag is so vacuum packed to your face that it is hard to articulate…”
“Wardon say.” I tried to say ‘you don’t say’, but I could not move my jaw or cheeks enough to get the sound right. Talking was obviously out from now on.
There was silence for a few seconds, before Paula continued.
“There will be a couple of questions running through your head right now, so let me explain a few things about how this works out, and be sure, it does work. It has been tested and perfected over many years, you are perfectly safe. Uncomfortable, true. Hot, definitely, and there is always the slight chance you could suffocate, but you are in charge of that bit…”
This was followed by the sounds of a toasty being thoroughly demolished.
“Take a deep breath and try to fall over. You can’t but you should try anyway.”
I breathed in as deeply as I could and pulled in my hands and feet as hard as I could. The glass top sank into place with a little bang, but nothing else happened. I did not fall.
“The inflated bag is now totally surrounding you, so you can not fall or move actually, and if you were wondering…” Her voice was getting closer. Pop, that little circle of light appeared again, letting in some cool air. “… we can get air to you within a second or so, so you are not in danger.” The hole disappeared as Paula refitted the valve.
“So just relax, as enjoy the sensation. You are not going to be released until I release you.” I closed my eyes and started to experience the sensation.
“There is a film just starting which I would like to see… so try to be quiet.”
It’s funny, but you do not really sense things, until you concentrate on them. If I let my head fall forward a bit, the breathing was easier, but if I breathed in quickly, the bag closed around my face cutting off my air, but if I breathed slowly, it did not. If I pulled my head back, the bag was tauter and I could breath quicker, however, this forced the bag even tighter to my face and was tiring. Occasionally, I would need to move a hand or foot, to get more comfortable. This needed planning; I would take a deep breath, relax, which causes the top to cover my intake holes, I would move my hand or foot, while holding my breath, then take up the load while slowly exhaling. The rest of the time, I was just floating in a sea of rubber, lost in my black, hot, immobile world.
“Hi.” Paula looked up as Annette walked into the lounge.
“Hi. Everyone tucked up in bed?”
“Yes. Look, thanks for helping out tonight. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. It was fun.”
“Where’s Ginger? In bed?”
“No.” Paula beamed a broad grin, and nodded at the table.
“No! He didn’t seem the type.” Annette leaned down and listened carefully.
“He didn’t ask, or volunteer actually, I sort of conned him into it.”
“Paula. I know you enjoy controlling men, but Ginger is one of us. We should not impose our will on each other.”
“Oh, Annette. It’s not like that. I could tell he was sort of interested, curious if you like.”
“Do you think he is slave material?”
“I don’t think he is your ‘Yes, Mistress, No, mistress’ type, but I do think he will comply if asked, when needed. He does seems interested in experimenting.”
“What make you think that?”
“Well, primarily because he has now been in the table, the full kit, that is, all the options used, for over 90 minutes and I got him in there without a single complaint from him.”
Annette sat down next to Paula and put her feet on the table. Ginger automatically took up the extra weight.
They watched the film for a few moments in silence.
“He is a cross dresser primarily though.” Annette asked.
“Oh, yes. That is his bag.” Paula agreed.
“That could be useful.”
“Added street cred, definitely.”
Ten minutes later, the film ended, and the two girls got up. Annette
looked at the table.
“Has he?” She asked
“Not yet, strange as it is his first time.” Paula looked at the table for a few moments, listening to the gentle breathing.
“Bollocks, I want to go to bed. Let’s speed this up a bit.” Annette and Paula sat on the table top, cutting off the air intake.
Inside the table, David’s breathing changed, getting faster and more forced. After a few seconds, when the breathing was at a certain rate, Annette and Paula got up. The breathing did not relax, instead it became faster and deeper. After a few moments, there was the characteristic staccato inhales and the low deep exhale that signified that David had just orgasmed.
After placing the table top behind the piano and ensuring that David
was breathing correctly in the table, Annette and Paula went to bed.
I became aware at some time. I can’t say I woke up, it was not quite
that clear. When you wake up, you open your eyes and see a brand new day,
stretch and get up.
I guess I opened my eyes, although in my pitch black rubber bag, I could not be sure. I tried to move, which was also quite impossible. At this point, I panicked a bit and struggled wildly for a few seconds. This had absolutely no effect on my bonds, or my position. When the memory of the previous evening crystallized, I realised why I could not move and settled down. I am sure it was only a few seconds, but it seemed like a lot longer. Being able to do nothing else, I took stock of my situation. I was getting air and seemed in no great danger at the moment. My hands felt okay, if a little numb. My feet however, told me if I tried to move them again, I was in for a double dose of cramp. Best to say still then.
It then struck me that I had awoken for some reason. True, a trip to the bathroom would be nice, but nothing desperate. I then heard movement, some one was in the kitchen. A burglar maybe? I should look, ah… I then had an image of being interviewed by the police… ‘and where were you doing then the crime was being committed?’ I smiled to myself at that one.
My musings were broken when that small circle of light appeared in front
of my face.
“Morning. Sleep well?” It was Annette.
“Well enough, but the bed a bit short for my liking, though.” I heard her giggle.
“Well, come on, we haven’t got all day. There is work to be done before the other guest get up.”
“What time is it?” I heard her walking off, back to the kitchen.
“Six thirty.” That means I have been stuck in this bag for about four hours. The opening of the vent meant I got a bit of light and fresh air in the bag. One thing was for sure, in the last four hours, I had sweated a lot. There was now a small pool of it draining on to the floor.
“A little help?” I ventured.
“You got yourself into it, so you get yourself out.” It was obvious by the tone of Annette’s voice, she was not going to help. I struggled a bit more, maybe she had undone some critical piece that would allow me to get out on my own, but after a few moments of struggling, I could not sense any difference.
“Morning all.” Paula had arrived downstairs.
“Paula. Sort out Ginger, will you? We could use all the hands we can get this morning.”
I heard her coming over to me. Not the sexy clicking heels I remember from last night, but the dragging sounds of slippers.
“So Ginger… do you appreciate your experience?” She was very close.
“When I get out, I am going to give you such a slapping! You said ten minutes…”
“Do you want to get out or what? Attitudes like that will not help. Tables are used at breakfast as well you know…”
I said nothing. She would not dare… yep, she would.
“Well, I’m waiting…”
“So am I…”
“Okay, I am sorry for blowing my stack.”
“That’s better.” Pop, and another hole appeared in front of me. I could hear the ‘sides’ deflating, far too slowly for my liking. At the same time, Paula began to undo the numerous straps that held me to the spot.
As the last of the air hissed out of the sides, I could see Paula hand mopping up my little pool of sweat off the floor.
“Okay, push up.” I pushed up and I felt her remove to shackles and bars from under me.
“Ouch,ouch, ouch…cramp, cramp… feet, feet…. Ouch.” I cried out.
“Okay, roll on your side.” Paula said calmly. I fell on my side and Paula rubbed my feet.
“Okay. It’s gone… thanks” I said after a few moments. I lay on my side, panting. I could see Paula’s smiling face through the two holes in the bag. She looked very pleased with herself.
“Okay, will you kindly undo the zip... for some reason, I can’t seem to reach it…” I said.
“Nope.” She smiled and snapped the valves back into their holes.
“What? Oh, come on, Paula, let me out!”
“Don’t worry, my little rubber dog. You are getting out. It is just that the bag is full of sweat and other stuff, and we can not have drips on the floor, can we?”
“Sod the floor.” I said, somewhat annoyed.
“Now, now.” Paula grabbed the head of the bag and tugged it. “Just walk this way to the shower room.”
“Oh…” I scrambled awkwardly to my crawling position and followed her, as she tugged me onwards. It did make sense when you understand what was going on. I had wondered vaguely why there was a shower room downstairs, but now, it made total sense.
When I was finally herded into the shower cubicle, Paula undid the zip
about an inch or so, stuffed the shower head in the bag and turned
the shower on. The bag quickly started to fill up with piping hot water,
I could hear it, but with the valves still in place, I could not see anything.
The water was running all over my body and collecting in the feet and hands.
Paula then popped out the valves and the water started to drain out.
“Right. I am going to release the zip fully now, but before I do, let me just tell you one thing. The shower door has a lock on the outside, and I will lock it until you promise not to get me…” I guess Paula had realised she was no longer my best friend and was definitely off my Christmas list.
“… well, not immediately.”
Ah, an interesting clause. Obviously, she likes to play. Vengeance is a dish best served cold.
“Agreed…” I felt the zip being fully undone and finally I was released. Needless to say, the shower door was locked…
Paula nattered to me as I showered, there were a couple of dynamics
to sort out. I was wearing my bra, panties and tights when I was zipped
in the bag. These were now totally soaked and not really wearable until
they had been thorough washed. I hadn’t expected to spend the night, so
I had not brought anything with me. In order to be a French maid again,
I needed knickers and a bra, tights or stockings or something. I also needed
a good shave and makeup.
A razor was not a problem and Paula had some make up. However, neither Paula nor Annette were anyway near my size and anyway, the very idea was out; I mean, a girl’s knickers are her castle.
After the shower and a close shave, I slipped on a bathrobe and Paula
and I disappeared up to the ‘play room’ to see what we could use.
This was the first time I had been in the play room and it was quite an eye opener. The floor was what I would call ‘hospital lino’. A single sheet of very hard vinyl, not chosen for its aesthetic appeal. The walls were totally covered in white tiles and the ceiling was mirrored. All over the floor, walls and ceiling were metal hoops, which, Paula explained, anything could be attached… chains, ropes, pulleys, whatever.
In the middle of the room was a hospital trolley, and at the far end was a large chest of drawers. It looked a little out of place, actually. We went over to it and Paula started to open all the drawers.
“These are all the basics for playing, helmets, mittens, shackles, knickers, corsets… everything for the slave.” Paula ferreted about for a few seconds and pulled out a pair of knickers, rubber of course.
“Knickers… one pair.” She gave them to me. I looked at the carefully, they were not very lady-like, not with a sheath at the front and a penis-shaped thing at the back.
“Erm… They seem to be occupied…” I flicked the thick rubber penis.
“It’s called a plug, for your butt. They all have them…”
“Oh. Doesn’t it hurt?” I was really not sure about this.
“Oh, no. It’s actually quite fun. I will be wearing two, front and rear. It allows you to have a bit of fun while doing all this stuff.”
I was not sure, but then when in Rome…
Paula returned to the drawers and continued to rummage. I spotted a
helmet and picked it up. It was double skinned, with a small gag on the
inside. There were two inflators on the outside, I started to think about
Little Miss Hitler from last night.
“Is there a pair of plastic knickers in there?”
Paula turned and looked at the inflatable helmet.
“I am sure there is…” she said smiling.
I was left in our bedroom to put on the ‘foundations’, while Paula had
a quick shower. First I applied KY into the sheath and onto the shaft of
the plug, before carefully pulling on the knickers. Squatting in the middle
of the floor, I slowly inserted the plug. I can not say the feeling was
enjoyable, nor can I say it was unpleasant, but it was different. One thing
was immediate, the further the plug was inserted, the more erect I became…
After walking about the room a bit, feeling that ‘full’ feeling so often spoken of, and convincing myself, it was not going pop out, I pulled the plastic pants over these.
Next, I pulled on the rubber corset. It was not a ‘strap-me-in’ type of corset, just something to hold my false ‘boobs’.
I sat on the bed and pulled on the rubber stockings. There is definitely a knack to pulling on stockings, luckily I am an expert in this area. I was just attaching the last suspender clip in front of the full length mirror, when Paula returned from the shower.
“Wow. You do look good...” She said walking over to me. It was a very strange sight, me in black rubber and Paula in pink towelling and bunny slippers.
She turned me to face her and started to run her fingers over my body. She massaged my boobs, before moving further down. My excitement was desperately fighting against several layers of rubber, to make its presence felt. Paula smiled all the more when she came across it.
“Tell me, Ginger. Are you a sissy boy?”
“What’s a sissy boy.”
“Some one who likes to wear silly sissy clothes, like a pretentious twelve year.”
“Do you like to be humiliated?”
“What… like being told I look ridiculous in this and should be mocked by everyone?”
“Yep. That sort of thing.”
“No, definitely not. No way!”
“Well, you are not maid material…”
“I though I did rather well, personally.”
“…what I mean is, you are not turned on by being a maid, ordered about and generally ignored, so what is your bag?”
I pulled her to the bed and we sat down.
“Well, I cross dress because, at a very low level, I know that I am a woman, really underneath. Does that sound silly?”
“Not really. It might sound strange out there, but in here, we come across so many different needs and desire, we learn to just accept people for what they say they are.”
“Thanks… I wish everyone would treat me like they would a woman, all the time, but I know that will never really happen.”
“Why not have the op?”
“Oh, that is very easy to explain. Firstly, after the op, I would not really be a woman, just a deformed man. Being a woman is only partially physical, there’s thirty five years of training I have missed out of.”
“But that could be unlearnt…”
“But more practically, it is a man’s world, generally. I have a good career, lots of qualifications and a good lifestyle. No… in this age, I think I have the best of both worlds, I would be a fool to throw that away. As long as there are understanding people, like you and Annette about, I am happiest as I am.”
She kissed me deeply and then said “And besides, you fancy women, so that would be an added complication.”
We had decided to give Little Miss Hitler treat this morning, so apart from matching rubber stocking and the PVC maid outfits, we had leg manacles linking our ankles by chains. These were purely cosmetic as they still gave us a good step range. We also wore rubber bondage mittens. However at this point, our plan came unstuck. The problem with bondage mittens, was once they were on, and appropriate buckles secured, you could do very little in them. In fact, there was no way to do any delicate work, such as doing up the buckles that secured them. This meant that, while I was finished, rubber bondage mittens on and held in place by thick leather buckles, Paula could only get one on. We were still struggling with this, when Annette turned up to see why we were so long. We smiled weakly at her.
After explaining about what Little Miss Hitler had said last night and
briefly explaining our plan, Annette decided it was very customer focused
of us. Annette helped Paula into her last bondage mitten and secured. She
then inspected us, as we giggled like two school girls.
“Very good… but something is missing.” Annette disappeared and returned a few seconds later with some more chains.
“If you are going to do this, you should do it properly.” Annette attached the chains so that our wrists were also linked. These wrist chains however were only four inches long.
“Hmmm… better but not perfect. True, inflatable helmets are impractical, but…” Annette disappeared again, returning with two thick rubber helmets, complete with inflatable gags buckled on, which she then laced us into.
Additional chains were then connected from our ankle chain, through the wrist chains to the helmet collar. We must have looked like the extras from a very bad chain gang sex movie.
“There… that’s better… perfect actually. Now... you have wasted so much time on this stunt, we are now running late. In order to not waste any more time by chattering, the gags will not be removed until the guests arrive for breakfast, which is in less than two hours now… so git.” She gave us each a sharp pat on our butts and we shuffled off to do our duties, as best we could.
True to her word, Annette removed the gags as the first guests started to come down for breakfast. However, she did leave them hanging by one of the buckles, just in case.
Paula called me over to explain how breakfast should be served.
“We use this trolley to carry the food and drinks from the kitchen to the guests, immaterial of how small the load is.” I looked at the trolley. The top was settled on a rubber bag.
“Trevor?” I asked, as I noticed the top was very slowly sinking.
“Yep. This morning he is the trolley.” Paula smiled.
“How’s this one work then?”
“We have to be carefully with this one, it’s still pretty new and needs a couple of the bugs sorted. As we move the trolley about, the back wheel pump air into the bag from which Trevor breathes. When he exhales, the air is lost, so keep an eye out to ensure it does not get too low.”
“Isn’t it dangerous?” I noticed the top had sunk quite a lot now.
“A bit. He has two small hand pumps in case it gets too low, but honestly, they are nearly useless.” Paula moved the trolley back and forth until the top was full again.
“There are some bands connected to the front wheels, so if you move it left, it pulls his sheath forward, and if you move it right, it pulls his sheath backwards, so as we move about the room, he gets masturbated.” She smiled and gave the trolley a quick wiggle from side to side. The trolley moaned a bit.
“He has no control over that and no idea when it will happen.” Cool, I thought.
She knelt down and banged a bump bar that ran around the edge of the trolley.
“If you knock it against something, it also sends a puff of air into his gag or butt plug. Bump the front, his gag gets it. Bump the rear, his butt gets it.”
“Er, won’t he explode?” I asked as Paula kicked the rear of the trolley a couple of times.
“No. There is a slow release pressure valve. They return to their normal size after about five to ten seconds, but dump it a number of times in quick succession and he could be uncomfortable for a while.” I looked at Paula. She definitely seemed to like that part.
“The air bag actually surrounds him, so the more we put on the trolley, the more the pressure that is put on him.” She continued. “I have always wanted to sit on the trolley, but the bag might burst…” She started to load up the trolley with cups of tea and plates of food.
“I’ll take these out as you start to place out some more.” She pushed the trolley off into the dining room, wiggling the front from side to side as she went.
Paula returned shortly, the trolley empty. I loaded up my goods and set up for the dining room. Handling the plates and so on through the mittens was not particularly difficult, although it was slow. After offloading a course onto one of my tables, I noticed that the trolley top was pretty low, so took a more scenic route to my next table, which was that of Little Miss Hitler.
As I placed the plates of food in front of her and her friends, I saw
out of the corner of my eye that she was smiling and taking a lot of interest
in my get up.
“You are looking more appropriate this morning, Maid.” She said while gently lifting the edge of my very short skirt with her riding crop.
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
She then purposefully dropped her napkin on the floor by my feet.
As I bent down to pick it up, keeping my legs straight and bending from the waist, so show her my plastic knickers, she continued.
“It’s good to see my advice was taken.”
Thwack, the riding crop came down hard across my buttock, sending my butt plug further in.
“…Annette though it would be appropriate.” I continued, while trying to keep my composure.
I offered her back the napkin. She merely leant back, so I placed it across her lap. She gave a very slight shiver as my chains dragged across her legs.
“I will have to ask Annette if I could borrow you for a week or two.” She smiled evilly.
“You honour me, ma’am, but I am afraid I could not live up to your expectations.”
“Tsssh. Not a word. You talk too much.” She placed a finger across my lips. Noticing my gag dangling, as if for the first time, she grabbed it and forced it into my mouth and secured it in place.
“Now that is better, isn’t it?” I merely nodded.
She gave the inflator three hard pumps, filling my mouth completely. She then waved her hand and I was dismissed.
Trevor was bumped and wiggled badly as I returned to the kitchen.
Because of the chains, I could only just reach the inflator, and through the thick rubber mittens, Paula could not release my gag. Although only my eyes were now showing, she could see that although I was very angry at how our plan had backfired, I was also incredibly turned on by my seemingly helpless state. It was incredibly frustrating, I could not reach myself, as the chains stopped my mittened hands from reaching down that far.
Seeing my obvious frustration, Paula slipped her bound mittened hands under my skirt and started to massage my erect sheath as best she could. I would have exploded there in the kitchen, if Annette hadn’t come in and coughed loudly.
After breakfast, Annette removed Paula’s chains, but I was to be left
as I was, as it was my fault I was re-gagged, until after Little Miss Hitler
left. As I loaded the dish washer, Paula obviously felt sorry for me, and
although still mittened, massaged my now aching member, until I exploded
into one of the most powerful orgasms I had ever had.
Work continued in the office, with bugs being corrected and features
being added. About four weeks after the party, I was called in by Annette.
“Your favourite client is coming to talk about the project on Tuesday.”
“Not Little Miss Hitler? Please, not here…”
“The very same. So I would like you to come appropriately dressed…”
“I don’t actually have a French Maid outfit…”
“Sorry… wrong end of the stick… I want you to impress her. Do you have a nice business suit?”
“I have one or two, yes…”
“…one with a skirt, that is…”
“Yes, I have one.”
“Good, wear it. I want you to impress. We are going all out for this account.”
“Annette, what exactly is she coming for?”
“You are going to impress her with the additional features that can be added to the game.”
I immediately went and found Paula and Trevor. Although I had not been
idle in the previous weeks, we had not really talked about the add on’s
in any detail. I had been sourcing and testing all sorts of things that
could be used, but we had not really discussed how, or more accurately
what they would do.
After discussing this all afternoon, Paula and I decided to go back to her place and continue to talk about things.
Paula had a nice flat. It was not vary large but it was nicely done.
It was actually very feminine, with lots of pinks and flowers. I organized
some music, while Paula stuck a pizza in the oven.
“This chair is a bit out of place, isn’t it?”
I was looking at one of those inflatable armchairs, which were so popular in the sixties.
“That was my pet project, when I first joined the company.”
“I thought the company was new.”
Paula returned with the pizza and a bottle of wine.
“This one is, but we all worked for Annette in her previous company. We made furniture.”
“Furniture? That is a long way for computer games isn’t it?”
Paula explained that Annette had a driving passion. She started out as a professional dominar. After a couple years of that, and a few near calls with the boys in blue, she left the professional scene, and went into the support services, selling rubber and leather goods. However, as the market became more global, she could not compete with the cheaper imports.
“There was always one thing that annoyed Annette.“ Paula explained. “While you have your slave bound up, the dominar could not really do much except watch him to make sure nothing happened.”
“I had always assumed that the slave would be bound up and left to stew in their own juices, so to speak.”
“That is true for those into leather and straight bondage, but once rubber gets involved, you have to be a lot more careful.”
Paula picked up another piece of pizza and pointing it at me, said “The most dangerous piece of bondage is the humble rubber mask.”
“How so?” I grabbed a piece of pizza, which was disappearing very quickly.
“If you have a good, but also expensive helmet, one with gag and nose tubes, it is held in place by them. A simple pull over hood with only a hole or two is actually very dangerous. As the head sweats and the wear moves about, it is not impossible for the hood to move. If those holes move too far, bingo, no air.”
Chewing on the pizza, I thought about it. “I had never really thought about that.”
“No. Most people don’t. The dominar however, has to watch the slave all the time to make sure that that does not happen.”
“Why don’t people use the expensive one then?”
“Well, dominars do. Once a good helmet is correctly fitted, you can literally leave them to their own devices, but most people starting out do not want to pay out a lot of money on the good stuff.”
“Hmmm.” I love pizza.
“Anyway, that is not the point. The point was that Annette remembered how boring it was just watching your slave, and thought there must be a way to make the helpless slave useful while bound up.”
“Hence the table?”
“Exactly. The table was one of our best sellers, and it is not cheap. The trolley was own last product before we went into computer games.”
“Why computer games?”
“Money. The furniture is expensive to make and if you have a good product, a competitor will release something similar, cheaper after a couple of months anyway, so you have to keep evolving.”
“I suppose so… So this chair was your design then?”
“Yep. It never went into production, but is pretty good, if I may say so myself. This one has never been used though.”
“No one has ever volunteered, which is a real shame as it was the final development. That is one thing that really annoys me actually.”
I looked at the chair. It was not obvious how it would be used, as it looks like a normal chair really.
“It looks like a normal chair.”
“That is the point, it is a normal chair. Say, do you want a go?”
“Shouldn’t we be getting on with work?”
“Oh, we can do that as well, but I would really like some one to use my chair once.”
She has a lovely smile.
“Is it painful?”
“Oh, no! It is designed for long term usage?”
“Oh, no! I am not going to bound up for hours on end again…”
“Looks, I just want to see if it works as I designed it, that’s all. It is not something you can use on your own.”
“Well, if it not for long… and as you have asked so nicely… and as long as we can continue to work, because we have to get this work done.”
“Thanks, Ginger.” She bounced up and dragged me into the bedroom. “All you need is a pair of sheath pants…”
Standing back in the living room, dressed solely in my sheath pants,
Paula explained how the chair worked.
“Fundamentally, you crouch on the balls of your feet. Your lap becomes the seat, your torso is the back of the chair and your arms, the arms.”
“Well, I can not balance on the balls of my feet for long.”
“True, but there are the inflatable pads all around, so you can not actually fall forward or backwards, so you can actually. The only problem with the design is that you have to enter the chair from the bottom and the back. It is a bit of a fiddle.”
“It looks too small for me…”
“Your head sticks out the top. That way we can continue to chat about work.”
Paula tipped the chair over and under did the webbing at the back.
“Right, put your feet in there. There is a pocket which goes down…”
I sat on the floor and slide my feet into the hold. I managed to find the pocket and got my feet into them.
“Okay, my feet are in.”
“Right, now the tricky bit. You need to need to get your head and torso in the back, while pushing your legs further in. As you move your body in, there are two arm tubes to get into as well.”
I reach up between the two layers of the back and located the arm holes. Then taking a deep breath, stuck my head in and wiggled into position. It was a lot easier to do than explain. A few seconds later, my head popped out of the hole at the top, although because the chair was turned over, my head actually appeared on the floor!
“Excellent. I’ll just do up this webbing, to stop you falling out.” which she did, before heaving the chair back to its normal way up.
She then came around the front and retrieved the cushion which had fallen out when the chair was tipped over.
“Well, what’s it like?”
“Well, there is a lot less room for my feet than I expected. I can’t move them apart at all.”
“Good. You are not supposed to.”
“I can not really move forward or backwards, so I am stuck on my balls. I can not really say I feel any bag to support my knees, but I guess its there.”
“Okay, we can fix that in a second.”
“I can move my hands a bit from side to side, but not back and forth any useful distance.”
“Good… anything else.”
“Yeah. My dick has fallen between my legs and is quite uncomfortable. I would not like to stay in here for long.”
“Ah, that we can fix, and add the cushion.” Paula moved up to the seat and ferreted about, fished my sheath out.
“There is a slit in the seat to allow access and a cunning hole in the cushion… “, she showed me by sticking her finger through the hole in the cushion “… to allow the people outside to do what they will to the chair.”
She slotted the cushion over my post, so completing the chair.
Paula disappeared into the bedroom and returned a few moments later with a foot pump and a pink helmet.
“To get the full effect, the encumbant should be hooded…”
“Paula, we have work to do.”
“… just while I am washing up.”
Although I tried to hinder her, by moving my head about, she finally managed to get the helmet on. Once it was on, there was no point in resisting any more, so she did up the lacing with care. Needless to say, there was an internal gag, which she pumped up. There were eye holes but they were tiny, pin-holes really, which gave a very small view of the world.
“I will just add a bit more air, to compensate for your weight.” She attached the pump somewhere and started pumping. I could feel the extra pressure building all around me.
“The air bags are made the same way as lilos, so they can take an incredible amount of pressure. ‘No kidding’ I thought to myself, the pressure was incredible indeed.
“You should really see this, it’s great. The hood is a new one I got and I was dying to see it on some one. You’ll have noticed how thick it is, so you will not be able to move your face much, but the outside has a woman’s face painted on it. You look so sweet, pouting there like that…”
Paula came and sat on the chair, on me. The extra weight made my prison even more imposing.
“So, Anna Chair. You just relax here while I quickly do the washing up.”
Needless to say, I spent the whole evening in the chair and not a lot of work was done. I am really going to get that girl one of these days.
You would be really proud of me. I had the whole thing planned and ready for action. Paula and I had been working on the physical feedback system for two weeks and we were ready for the testing. We had literally sweated blood over this and we were very keen to give it a try.
The system is fairly simple. Each player has a gasmask-style hood, but
instead of clear google lenses, we use mini-colour LCDs screens. Although
we plan to use hi-quality ones in the final product, Paula and I are having
to make do with displays salvaged out of some old PDAs, but in reality,
they are pretty good.
The hood also has small speakers for the ears, a small microphone so the players can insult each other during the game. There is also an inflatable gag, of course. The gag is normally deflated and can be pushed to rest just on the lips. However, on a certain signal for the game, the gag will inflate very quickly and shoot back into the mouth and expand. This, as you would expect, silences the gaggee quick well. The hood also inflates slightly, but not much.
The player wears a suspension harness over whatever they fancy. We both opted for a fairly standard rubber catsuit. There are also straps for the wrists, elbows and ankles. Nylon ropes are fed from all these to electric winches in a frame. The player, standing in the frame, can be suspended, dropped, yanked forward, backwards, left or right by the game, as the situation demands. We also added an inflatable butt plug for rear shots and a vibrator for ‘interest’.
So imagine the scene, these two rubber encased figures, roping themselves to a machine on at half past one on a warm Friday afternoon. It took a bit of time to adjust the ‘neutral’ position. When everything is perfect, the player gently hangs in the frame, with their feet touching the ground. The frame takes nearly all the weight because the feet are also used to control elements of the game. We had both decided to wear ballet boots, as it is not often that you can stand in them for long and they look so great.
Under the left foot, there are two pressure pads; the one a little forward
of the neutral position is the brake. Stamping to the left will raise or
lower the landing gear. Forward on the right foot is the bomb dropping
switch, with the reverse gear switch activated by stamping to the right.
Each hand has a joystick. The left hand one controls movement – forward for advance, left for moving left and so on. As this is a spaceship, the neutral position for the joystick means no change, so if you are spinning at a high speed, returning the joystick to neutral will not correct the spin, it just won’t make it any worse. Each action requires an equal and opposite action to correct it. This does make flying harder but hey, welcome to the real world!
The right hand joystick is the attitude stick – push forward and you rotate forward, pull left and you rotate left, and to make it just like the real thing, for each action you make, the system will pull slightly on one or more of the tie ropes to make you feel like it is actually happening.
Each joystick has a fire button and two other multi-function buttons for activating repairs, selecting weapons and so forth – all fairly games console standard stuff.
This may sound a little simple and over complicated at the same time,
but the real fun starts when the battles do. Although there are literally
millions of ways of configuring the system, they all pretty much goes like
Each ship has a number of core elements, navigational area, two engines, weapons area and stuff like that. If you get shot in the navigational area, your LCDs fade by twenty percent in three seconds, hence five shots and you can see nothing. Damage can be repaired, but you need to select the components and activate self-repair, which is plenty of presses on the old buttons. While you are doing that, you will be unlikely to be firing back, so you have to balance up – do I run damaged and return fire or run and fix myself? You have no idea how damaged the other players are, a single shot may wipe them out totally.
If you get shot in one of the engines, one of your legs will be yanked back. It will be held back for five seconds before you can drag it back to its normal position, and I mean drag, the winch does take some pulling. Other areas will reel in your elbow, wrist or simply raise your torso so you can no longer reach the controls anymore.
As before, five hits will make a component non-functional, and the self-repair can only function on one component at a time, and usually takes fifteen seconds to repair a single hit.
As you can see, you have to be good and quick to survive, but to make
things even tougher, the self-repair system can also be damaged. Each hit
to the self repair system will double the repair length and the self-repair
system will not repair itself until all other damage has been fully repaired.
Okay, you think, it sounds like a fairly fun interactive game, but why should my mistress be interested? Well, there are a couple of reasons. Firstly, when you are totally incapacitated and can no longer function, you do not leave the game, you just hang about in your dark and most probably suspended state until the end of the game, which could be hours. You can not unhook yourself, you can not reach the straps or undo the tiny locking nuts.
Secondly, if the mistress decides she wishes to play as well, she can play from the comfort of her computer or games console. In this mode, all her injuries are re-routed to her slave, so you could be quietly flying through space, no one in sight when your engines blow up and you are left high and dry, because of some mistake your mistress made so you get the idea.
When we had finished adjusting the straps and all the leads were connects,
we gave each other a wave and secured the hoods in place. Pressing the
fire button kicked the system into life. We were gently lifted and lowered,
pulled left and right, as the system checked itself and showed the player
the extent of the movements. When we and the system were happy, the game
The lenses slowly lit up and displayed an alien planet. The sky was
a subtle shade of purple and the grass was slightly too blue. To my left
was my ship. Although there was a big temptation to play and get used to
the control, I ‘ran’ to my ship and took off immediately. I was hoping
that Paula was playing with the controls before taking off. I had a plan
and getting to where I wanted to be quickly was critical. I ‘ran’ into
the ship’s control room and left the atmosphere and quickly as I could.
Although I was lurching all over the place and nearly crashed twice, I
finally managed to get the ship going in the direction I wanted.
I tore through space and headed straight for the asteroid belt.
Normally the game would have about twenty five or so planets and about
half that number of players. Such games would start off with the players
charging around space, trying to find each other, but our simulation was
to test the feedback circuit, so there were two players and two planets.
There was also an asteroid belt as a navigational problem, but this asteroid
belt had my little ship in there, all quiet and just waiting for Paula
to come looking for me.
As a programmer, Paula automatically believed she could kick my butt in any game, and in all truth, in a fair match, she probably could, but I was planning on not playing fair. Although she knew how the ships were built and where their weak spots were, I had the advantage of knowing how the feedback loops worked and if I got my shots in first, I firmly believed I could beat her – pay back time.
I watched her shoot past, but did not chase. She would be back, I just hang there in space, all quiet like. Sure enough, it was only a few minutes later that she can racing past again. I was hoping that she had assumed I had gone looking for her on her planet and we had passed in space, so she went charging back to her planet again.
I slipped out of the belt and built up a little bit of forward motion. I then rolled and dropped a mine. As I watched it slowly drift off into space, I slowed and slipped back into the belt again.
About five minutes later, Paula came back again, but this time more
slowly. My speakers started to crackle…
“Okay, where the hell are you? Come out and fight like a man!” The ‘radio’ only works when you are fairly close to one another. As Paula had no idea where I was, I did not say a thing.
“Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting, you’re not a man, are you? You great big girl’s blouse!”
Just then, my mine, which had been drifting quickly in space, struck an asteroid and exploded. Although it was a way off, the light showed on the scope and Paula assumed it was me firing my engines, so she turned and shot off in that direction. It was all working perfectly. I slipped out of the belt and charged after her.
I soon caught up with her and as I was coming from behind, she did not
see my first two shots, which slammed perfectly into her navigational area
and left engine.
“What the fummphh…” I smiled as I heard her outburst being silenced by the gag inflating, filling her mouth.
She dived to the right and, figuring that I was behind her, fired a couple of rockets randomly towards me. One struck me on the wing, no great damage, but I did get a distracting buzz from the vibrator which was set to trigger on every impact. It must have been a lucky shot, as my left leg was whipped off the ground. My ship lurched left as I made uncontrolled pulls on the joysticks as my body weight shifted. I caught a glimpse of Paula’s ship as I bucked the ship and lobbed off a couple of rocket on the off chance they may connect.
The muffled but still very angry grunt that come over the ‘radio’ seemed to indicate that I had managed to get a hit in. I had not a moment to lose. I was banking of Paula trying to switch on the self-repair, which hopefully would be quick hard as her screens should be a lot darker and fuzzier than they were a few moments ago. I fought the controls and, with still my leg pinned behind me, brought my ship to bear on Paula’s. I could see her landing gear was down and hold doors were opening and closing in no apparent order. I guess she was having a bit of difficulty working the controls…
I took a bit of time to line it up and I fingered I was safe from attack for a bit, then I fired a whole salvo of rockets into her rear quarter. As the five rockets stuck, I could just imaging that but plug being inflated and held at pressure, while both her legs were pinned up behind her.
I watched as the ship exploded in flames and judder in space. I smiled as I knew that juddering was being faithfully reproduced through the ropes, onto Paula’s helpless body.
Just as in the films, so in our game… the fire on Paula’s ship had ignited the rocket storage and unfortunately for me, all her rockets, about a hundred were tearing through space in all directions. Three stuck my aft section, pinning back both my legs, and inflating both gags to their limit.
“Marfed….” I cried out, pointlessly. I heard Paula’s gagged giggle, but she was still in a far worse condition than myself. I was annoyed because I had only just get my left leg back from the last attack.
It was sink or swim time. If Paula had activated her self-repair, she could have her bombs and/or lasers back any time. It was not the time to go off and lick my wounds. I moved my ship in slow jerky movements, as I was swinging free, every push I made on the joysticks would start a swinging movement in my body, which in turn would push or pull the joystick, so moving my ship, which in turn would tug on the ropes, which would move my body and so on. Although it seemed to take for ever, I managed to set up am orbit around Paula’s ship, top, to right to bottom to left. This meant that I was never in front of her lasers and if I kept her engines offline, I could ‘tickle’ her for hours. Every time I drifted over an engine, I shot it with the laser. I shot randomly at her ship, eventually I would hit every major component and she would be out of the play.
When I did see that ‘Opponent Paula: died.’ Message on my screen, I would fly off and leave her in her bound and gagged position while I explored the universe. The game would not be over until I landed back on my planets and got out of my ship and that would not be for many hours.
I was right about Paula getting the auto-repair working, she started to fire her laser and drop mines. It was obvious that her vision was out as she was randomly firing in any direction she could manage, but unfortunately for her, the lasers simply could not reach round to my orbit, so I just kept circling her middle, popping off at bits of her ship that took my fancy. I tried to keep the intervals between shots random, as with every shot that slammed home into her ship, her vibrator buzzed a bit.
I was momentarily distracted by a couple of her mines exploding in the
nearby asteroid belt before returning to my tickling Paula to death, and
then it happened…
Those words I had been waiting for for so long appeared in front of me…
“Opponent Paula: Died from excessive damage”. I heard Paula’s saddened grunt come ‘over the radio’.
I pushed the now deflated gag out of my mouth and licked my lips noisily.
“Now that I have kicked your over confident butt… I am going to go exploring the galaxy.”
“Oh, yes. You know that the game will not end until the last surviving player lands on their home planet and disembarks. Well, I thought I would explore the galaxy first, see what is out there… maybe practice some stunt flying… for an hour or two… and while I do that, you will remain gagged and bound as you are now, just like the numerous time you have left me bound and gagged while you went playing.”
“Oh, it’s no use begging now. It’s payback time.” I laughed as I gently eased my ship out of its tiny orbit. The first thing to do is to get those repairs done.
Pride comes before a fall.
Both my legs and arms were whipped up and behind me. Both gags sprang into full action and my lenses instantly went dark. I hung there confused for a second… what had happened? Had the system crashed? If it had, the automatic server reboot would occur in two minutes and the game would be finalised… shame, I wanted to torture Paula for a bit longer.
Then my lenses lit up with the following words….
“Opponent Anna: Died from multiple asteroid impacts.”
At five thirty, Annette came into the simulation room and found the two rubber encased staff, strung up and strung out in their inescapable bondage. She walked over to the computer console and after scanning the data on the screen, typed a game broadcast message, which appeared on both our lenses and left.
“Broadcast: Better work out stale-mate protocol – see you Monday – A.”