© Copyright 2010 - Ludwig - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/ff; latex; bond; bdsm; straitjacket; electro; gas; tease; torment; mast; toys; climax; cons; X
Chapter 10: Under the Influence
Although the hour was still early, the stars were already twinkling in the sky, and near the reddening horizon a white crescent moon was shining like a bright scythe. Autumn was soon turning into winter, and the fresh air felt frigid and damp in her face as she tried leaning out the small window to watch the blue hour colour display. There was something saddening about how the whole world fell silent waiting for the next spring, but as long as there was enough light you could always enjoy the divine canvas with all its magnificent colours.
Samhraidh… atá imithe anois, Niamh tried for herself. Summer is gone. Her Irish was slowly slipping away from her, as if it didn’t really want to be a part of her anymore. She wondered why her mother hadn’t kept it alive at home. There must have been some reason.
She felt a warm hand on her lower back, and a familiar voice burred behind her.
“Please come in before you catch a cold, mèche-noire. I brought some coffee for you.”
“Nice to see you surface for once, Andy Pandy.”
“Thank you.” André laughed, handing her the cup and saucer. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“How’s Terry coming along?” Niamh grimaced as her lips grazed the searing hot crema. She wondered if it said ‘tasty lava java’ in some foreign language somewhere on that tin.
“She’s ready to... you know, go on. Five minutes’ rest was all she needed. Madame knows what she’s doing.”
Oh yes. So do you. The caffeine went straight to her head and swept away the little melancholy left in her mind. She took another swig, bracing herself.
“Do you think we play too rough?”
André gave her his best cherub look, leaning against a crossbeam behind him. Niamh could clearly perceive the sinewy features under his black turtleneck sweater.
“I think you’re asking the wrong person, that’s what I think.”
Niamh shivered, clasping the hot cup in her hands. The thin layer of latex in her suit wasn’t meant for keeping her warm near an open window this time of year. André quickly shut it behind her and draped a blanket over her shoulders.
“Thanks,” Niamh put in, “thought I won’t be able to keep it on for long.” She took a few steps away from the cold, wooden planks onto an old rug that felt fuzzy under her bare feet. “Alex was right. You’re a resourceful gentleman, full of surprises.”
“Tu parles. But she was right about Tee’s taste in clothing, though. That really looks good on you.”
She let her fingers travel across the short sleeve down to the elbow, where it seemed to merge seamlessly into her flesh. Blueberry and creamy custard, she thought a little self-indulgently. Indeed, it seemed to be custom-made for her, and the quality was such that it seemed to have a fluid consistency. She bent down carefully, wagging her rear.
“Yeah? Would you like to better the shine on my bum, then?”
“It’s good enough as it is,” André laughed silently. “Don’t worry if anything happens to it, either. The twin is sitting in the workshop. We always bring a little insurance to the photoshoots.” He took the empty cup from Niamh and turned it upside down on the saucer, looking a bit elsewhere with a faint smile on his face. “If I had my say, it would be yours now. Let’s get back and see what they are up to now, all right?”
* * *
The end of the narrow passageway was lit by the lamps behind the little stage, and Niamh saw Theresa sitting in one of the chairs, looking relaxed but battered. She was still wearing the heavy rubber butterfly top, which made her appearance rather interesting to watch, and the transparent shorts. Apparently, Alex had been kind enough to remove the anal plug. Otherwise, Niamh thought, she’d have a hard time looking that casual. The bulb dangling from a thin tube between her legs told her that she at least was still partially stuffed, which was a bit surprising given the thorough dilation she had suffered earlier.
Water droplets still sparkled all over her upper body, and again, Niamh felt a tinge of guilt. After she had finally stopped coming, which took quite some time, Alex had left her to purge the gas from her system with both circuits on full blast for a few minutes. When she had finally lifted the mask from her face to rinse it and help her to get the obstructing gag out, Theresa had begged for water. Her mouth was parched, and her tongue seemed swollen. Niamh had stepped in like a good Samaritan and drenched her with the soda siphon from the drink tray. It had been fun until Alex had chased her away with the cane after getting wet.
“Eh bin, time for me to disappear.” she heard André say behind her as she entered the room again. She saw Alex standing next to the camera tripod, eating a pear. The empty glass in her other hand told Niamh that another considerable quantity of fine brandy had now vanished from the bottle.
“Ah, there you are.” she said. “Would you please go and find me some polish. I seem to have made a mess again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Niamh answered, not wanting to miss her cue again. It probably wasn’t a great idea to give Alex any more excuses to having her flogged. The good thing was that André, the magic stagehand, had probably stashed away some of that stuff quite near the set as well. She wouldn’t have to look for long.
Right behind where the lights were rigged, she spotted a toolbox, which proved to be filled with different useful products, both for getting the sparkle back on someone’s outfit and cleaning up the whole damn place after the rumpus. Niamh found clinical swabs, wet tissues, Lysol and bleach among the cleansing products. That, at least, proved that she actually had asked the wrong person on the subject of playing rough. Only fecking Luminol and half a forensic kit missing. She grabbed a piece of shammy and a can of silicone spray from the box and scuttled back to Alex before she had finished her pear.
“Oh, that’s much better,” Alex hummed as Niamh carefully began buffing her up. She took great care getting the proper sheen on her generous behind, and lingered extra long at interesting places she thought were in need of a little preening. It was gradually getting harder as she closed in on her chest, after giving the gloves and sleeves a good working-over; not only because Alex was looking like a living artefact of an ebony goddess standing six feet six and a good half in her stilettos, but that she decided to show her affection in such a distracting way.
Niamh felt nimble rubberised fingertips teasing her nipples, tickling her below the armpits, touching her wherever they could reach. Alex let the tip of her tongue lightly travel across her upper lip, and the very sight of that felt like a soft punch in the belly for Niamh. The spray can slipped between her fingers and rolled away on the floor.
“Excuse me, m...” she began, reaching down to catch it only to be stopped halfway by Alex, grabbing hold of her shoulders.
“Leave it, sweetie. Come here instead.”
She didn’t know where to put her hands when Alex leaned down and swept her away with a magnificent kiss. Still holding on to the shammy, she nearly keeled over with the surprise. Drop your guard and she serves you one right where it feels. Niamh gratefully inhaled the scent of Alex again, trying not to dribble. She felt an urge to ruin her own work by getting busy on Alex with all means available, and right then she felt up to taking a good hiding just to get in under the skirt for a few minutes. It would no doubt be worth it.
As if she had read her mind, Alex raised her hands to her breasts and opened up the zips on her top, very slowly and deliberately. Then, making sure Theresa wouldn’t miss a single thing, she let Niamh come close.
“There we go.” Alex whispered a little nonchalantly, casting a glance to her right as she flashed a blinding smile and winked. There was sound beggaring description from poor Theresa, and a thumping of feet stomping against canvas.
“Poor you.” Niamh heard her say as she felt fingers running through her hair. She had her mouth full of sweet and sour-tasting soft flesh, and wasn’t about to let go in the first place. “You have been helping me all evening without getting almost anything in return. Isn’t it time you got some time off to relax and enjoy yourself a bit? Hm? What does Terry say about that?”
“Yeah.” Theresa croaked hoarsely. She had exercised her vocal chords a little too much when wearing the gag and mask. “Of course...ma’am.” she added after another side glance from Alex, this time a bit darker.
“Very good then; thank you so much, sweetie...” Alex sighed, pulling Niamh away by her ears. “...that will be enough for now. Would you please sit down in the special chair so we can proceed?”
“Ma’am!” Niamh whined, but didn’t wait for a reprimand. She obediently stationed herself beside the chair, but shuffled her feet on her way there as a childish protest.
“Please sit. I won’t strap you down just yet.”
Alex carefully covered her breasts again, taking her time putting the glass- now suitably decorated with pear- and the spray can away. There was some noise coming from behind the stage again. Niamh thought she could hear faint music playing.
“I was thinking of making little Terry happy as well. She’s had such a rough evening, and we can’t have anyone being sad right now, can we? No. Therefore I’ve decided that she’s eventually going to have her will, or at least part of it as far as I can tell, with you, sweetie.”
Theresa looked back and forth a few times, not really ready to believe what she just heard. Niamh rolled her eyes but remained silent. Oh, grand. Bring it on, then.
* * *
It would have better if there had been silence after Alex had left them both to look for whatever she had in mind for them this time, Niamh thought. Now, there was this extremely annoying, low-key music playing in the background, and she couldn’t make out what it was. It sounded like some kind of instrumental cocktail bossa-jazz with the emphasis on mental, not at all like the good Brazilian stuff she knew from when she was a kid, but rather something from a nastily distressing instructional film in school. She wondered how it fitted into the picture, since it created a bizarre waiting-room feeling, which wasn’t pleasant at all.
Theresa appeared to be extremely bothered by it, for some reason. There was no use in asking her right now, but it would be interesting to find out why a little later. She wondered how a simple little plan could turn into a full-blown spectacle like this, knowing it wasn’t going to come to an end anytime soon. Suddenly, there was a slight clatter from the shadows.
“Well, well, well. Here we might have something interesting for both of you. I had a feeling you were more or less expecting this instead of what you’ve got so far, hm?”
Alex paraded into the light holding up a black straitjacket, and the instant, guttural noise from Theresa sent another chilly streak travelling through Niamh. Although she was certain that Alex was not going to let her have her way, she didn’t even want her out of her restraints when she sounded like that. Poor little Terry was wound up like a magnet’s coil by now, and Niamh finally began to understand what Alex had meant when she talked about trust and knowing people.
The straitjacket was somewhat different from the one she had tried on. It didn’t seem so brutally heavy and thick, and it definitely was a bit shinier with blue trim along the seams. Perhaps a bit more feminine, but equally as constrictive. The buckles and straps flapping and jingling about it didn’t exactly signal ‘soft and cuddly’. Niamh particularly noticed the two straps replacing the solid crotchpiece, allowing full access to private parts. She began to worry about how long Alex would have her wearing it, and what she would do with her meanwhile.
“A beautiful piece of work, isn’t it?” asked Alex, holding up a sleeve. “Mes compliments au chef. I’m simply amazed with how well it’s crafted. Don’t you think it’s absolutely stunning?”
“Yes, ma’am...” Niamh managed, while there was only a brief groan form the other chair. She wondered if Theresa was still befuddled by the gas, even if it seemed unlikely.
“It has left me in a bit of a quandary, though. I sincerely hope you might be able to help me out here...Theresa. Terry?”
“Do you think it would be better if she wore nothing underneath it, or should we risk ruining that lovely little jumpsuit of yours? Best to have her undressed, wouldn’t you agree?”
Niamh could see how this would end even before Theresa started nodding like a lunatic.
“Yeah. Off ‘ith it.”
“You girls seem to forget your manners as soon as you get a little excited.” Alex smiled, bending Niamh forward to unzip her. “I’m getting soft with old age, as it seems. Take care you don’t push your luck too far, though.”
The suit peeled off her skin much easier that she’d imagined, but there was an uncannily cold feeling making her shiver as she got naked. However, it wasn’t the temperature in the room as much as the two pairs of ravenous eyes measuring her from head to toe that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She couldn’t really understand why Alex wanted her to strip down like that, and all she really wanted right then was a bathing towel to cover herself up.
Instead of making a crumpled heap of the garment, Alex folded it meticulously and handed it to Niamh like a parcel to a prisoner.
“Would you be so kind to take this back to André and bring a few of those wet tissues with you- and something for Terry to drink, sweetie? I know there’s an awful lot of running about for you,” she said with a certain tone Niamh found slightly disconcerting. “but in a moment you won’t be bothered with that any more. In fact, you won’t be moving much at all. Hop!”
* * *
Something in the back of her mind still tried to process the input from all her senses working double shifts in a stoical, logical way, as if there was any reason for that. The very moment she was left in her little predicament, strapped down with painstaking attention to detail meaning that the straitjacket was very nearly too tight, and the restraints locked in such a way that her legs were as immobile as the chair they were attached to; she felt reduced. Trying to find out why she felt like that, she was forced to watch Alex giving Theresa ‘a little something’ to drink. Even such a highly ordinary act of kindness, she could turn into something painfully erotic only by altering a few essential gestures and moves. She wanted to turn her head away, but Alex had locked her in her gaze.
As Alex gently coaxed Theresa down on her knees, Niamh had a few seconds to cool down. Her feet felt quite chilly after being thoroughly wiped with the little wet towel, and she had an idea or two what that could mean in terms of torture. A wall of blinding whiteness followed by a soft whoomph made her a bit disoriented, but she still had the presence to swear rather loudly at André behind the scenes. You’ll not know shit from shiitake if you keep doing that, Pandy boy!
“Language!” Alex barked, but without much conviction. It looked like she was suppressing a big smile. She pranced over to the little case that was still lying opened on a shelf, and rummaged around in it. “It would appear that we have a little attention-seeker here, wouldn’t you say, Terry girl?”
“Not the prod. Please, not the prod...” breathed Niamh, barely audible. Something squeezed hard around her pounding heart as she watched Alex withdraw an oblong metal rod.
“It’s not that I think it would do you any harm to get a few encouraging zaps, or perhaps one or two rounds with the rattan...”
“Oh, yes please...” Theresa mumbled, her eyes the size of small saucers. “Ma’am.”
“Oh, behave.” Alex produced what looked like a surgical instrument, equipped with a small but very spiky wheel. “No, instead I like to try to enhance your sensory perception by using this, sweetie. It’s called a Wartenberg wheel- works pretty much like acupuncture without the actual puncture- even if those nails are pretty sharp. Provided, of course, than you don’t upset me.” She turned the wheel with her thumb. “But I’m getting ahead of myself again. We’re not done hooking you up yet, as it were.”
The surgical mask was quickly strapped to her face, and Niamh was grateful that that the air was turned on in advance this time when the harness snapped against her neck and she drew heavily for breath. She watched Alex lean over her shoulder and wondered what was going on when she suddenly became aware of something kicking violently against vital parts of her hindbrain.
“Added a little memento.” she heard Alex’ voice next to her ear over the irregular hissing. “I truly hope that it’ll get you through the next few hours or so.”
Apart from the apparent smell of surgical grade rubber and the slightly stale air, there was a sharp, pungent odour of Woman widening her nostrils for each breath. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but Niamh felt a tiny, salty droplet on her tongue tasting of the same unmistakable fragrance. Alex. How the hell did she do that? She swore again, under her breath. This was going to drive her mad, and she knew it only too well.
Alex backed off, sucking her right index finger with a feigned expression of surprise on her face. Oh, you’ll look differently when I get my teeth into the real thing. Just you wait.
The little spiked wheel glistened ominously in Alex’ hand, and the stainless steel enveloped in black rubber caught Niamh’s attention very effectively, since her eyes refused to let go of the hand as it travelled lazily through the air in subtle, artful gestures. It closed in on her as if it had a will of its own, and the tiny spikes grew longer the closer it got. The valves in the machine had a hard time keeping up with her breathing now, and she began swallowing air in wheezing gulps, gasping when her tongue seemed to get in the way.
“Easy, easy now.” muttered Alex with a hint of concern that didn’t seem false. “Don’t you trust me, sweetie? I won’t let it hurt too much. Just enough for you to enjoy it. I think you will, actually.” She lowered the instrument sidled up to the cabinet with her eyes still set on Niamh. “I’ll reduce the flow a bit and let you rebreathe some more of your own air a little while.”
Niamh shook her head violently, causing the tubes to flap and rustle. A little face with harrowed look only inches from her legs gave her a gloating smile. A passing thought told her that Theresa began to enjoy herself more than an entirely sane person probably would.
“It’s instead of the little brown paper bag, you silly girl. I won’t have you fainting on me before I get to have my fun.”
Before she had any time to settle, the wheel rolled lightly against her thigh. She screamed loudly out of sheer shock, but there was no pain. Another roll, and it felt like a tiny bug strolling casually up her other leg. She stared in disbelief right into the sunny glow of Alex’ visage, and tried to understand what the thing was all about. Not even when she felt the wheel make the long trek across her exposed flesh down below, she felt more than a slight itching sensation. It was rather pleasant. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the minuscule change in Alex’ face. Fuck, she’s going for my feet, and she’s pressing down...
Now it didn’t matter how much she tried to make herself heard, because her body wouldn’t let her exhale. Holding her breath with her teeth clenched, she could only watch when Alex moved the wheel like an artist’s paintbrush over her sensitive feet careful not to puncture the blueish white skin, barely leaving a mark. It didn’t matter to Niamh, who suffered infernally from the tiny pinpricks. With a touch that wouldn’t have shamed a chiropodist, Alex shifted focus to the toes, sides and soles of her feet as she casually chatted with Theresa next to them.
“Can you see how sensitive she is right here? Oh, that was a good one.”
Niamh tried desperately to curl her feet up to balls. This wasn’t exactly fun, and she suspected that her body would present a fat bill tomorrow morning since her muscles were already complaining. Again. So, what’s new?
“And between the toesies, like that. Oops. Then, the... What do you say, the arch, perhaps? Won-der-ful. Hah, look how she’s trying to kick me.”
She felt a sudden urge to cough. The air was rapidly growing humid and quite thin, and she had to force more of it down her lungs to remain clear-headed. The sparks fizzing under her feet was like walking on burning charcoal.
“Ma’am” she wheezed. “Can’t breathe.”
“If you can speak, you can breathe.” Alex answered, unfazed. “But I’ll turn on some more air, if you insist. Terry girl...”
“Ma’am.” She’s well out of it, Alex. Just look at her. Oh, bugger.
“It’s your turn now.” Alex said, giving the bulb between Theresa’s legs a few squeezes. “Make sure that her feet get entirely clean. I won’t have a single smidgen of dirt on them, or it’s your bony little arse. Understood?”
Niamh tried to remember which saint to address in situations like these.
* * *
Another softened flash went off in the distance. The dark end of the stage seemed to move further and further away from them, and their little spot of light floated becalmed in a sort of void where there was only weird, muted muzak and the bizarre sound of the product of a mad scientist, couturier, cook, and currently stagehand slash photographer.
She had never before seen such pupils in the eyes of a person not under the influence, and she could swear that the tortured Terry twitched a little with every heartbeat pounding in her chest as she closed in on the toes with strings of saliva dangling from her chin. Relatively fresh air was flowing through the mask again, but it only made things worse by intensifying the smell of Alex’ little souvenir. It was almost like breathing through her cunt, Niamh thought, but that was of course the general idea. There will be teeth, mark my words. I’ll draw blood.
There was barely a muscle in her body that didn’t respond when the pale pink tongue brushed over her left foot, starting with her toes. Niamh shut her eyes, trying to think of just about anything else, but it didn’t help. Theresa proved to be good at this. Maybe this was retaliation for all the foot massages she had turned into short but intense tickle-fests only to see Alex surrender herself totally. Not much to her surprise, she could hear little noises of approval from her right.
Alex stood leaning against the cabinet again, seemingly doing nothing in particular but watching Theresa eating her feet. Niamh managed to control herself long enough to cast a meaning glance in that direction, but the only response was again the same finger over the mouth and a few mimed words. Niamh knew what ‘serves you right’ was all about by now.
Without any plausible explanation, Niamh could feel how her private parts reacted in unison with Theresa’s diligent lapping and sucking. There was a fervent throbbing feeling, and there was definitely something trickling down the back of her thighs. She made the mistake of moaning loudly, and downstairs someone immediately trebled her effort.
“Please, stop!” she whined under the mask. Theresa let out one of her obnoxious guffaws and spat on her lower shin.
“Relax, sweetie.” cheered Alex. “I’ll make it a bit easier for you.”
Despite the confusion, Niamh could hear the fflump noise from the machine, followed by a sharper hissing. Within seconds, there was a very faint trace of sea apart from the pungent rubber and bodily fluids in the air. Determined to stay in control, she tried desperately to reduce her breathing to an absolute minimum, which was practically impossible under the circumstances. Nothing much seemed to happen to her, though, and she gradually relaxed thinking that it was just another hoax meant to send Mad Terry into orbit. Why bother, she thought, since she’s already probably constantly coming only propelled by her own imagination? Besides, she was obviously getting tired already. It barely made any difference what she did to her feet now, since it only tickled pleasantly without causing any cramps or...Oh, shit. You sneaky t...
“I told you so.” Alex winked, patting the cylinder to the far left. “Since Terry girl never got the chance to try it- it is frightfully expensive, so try not to breathe too deeply- I thought this would be a good moment to let you have some. It gets better, if you have a little patience.”
Theresa showed great interest in the developments, with half a foot stuck in her mouth. Without as much as a sound, she stealthily began working her way upwards. Niamh watched her move, but she had nothing against just checking what would happen now. It began feeling as if someone had chucked cotton drenched in honey into her ears to the point of filling her head up to the temples. A tingly feeling in her legs made her want to wiggle a little, and she hoped that she would get a little help with the tight feeling between her legs.
Niamh inhaled deeply, once, twice and on the third lungful, the wooziness set in for real. Now, every sound seemed to come from an old, blaring radio. It was hard to focus, and she only briefly saw Alex turn another knob with a twist and then back into the shadows with a Cheshire cat smile on her face. Theresa had paused with her cheek on Niamh’s left leg, panting heavily. Niamh didn’t want to waste precious time, so she sucked in another three full breaths and tried to get her going.
“Come on then.” she squawked, suddenly feeling gutsy. “I’m waiting. Wrung out already, Teabag?!”
She couldn’t believe how witty she could be if she put an effort to it. Everything she said was hilariously funny. Theresa grinned as well, she noticed. Why didn’t she continue grooming her legs? They were freshly shaven and really smooth, she thought. Probably tasty as well. Salty. Nothing wrong with them. Oh. Yeah, all right. She tried to clear her throat as those eyes drew closer to her midst, but she only managed a dry cough. No cumbersome foreplay here, as it seemed. Time to call dear old Alex back, but what would she say? The Terryminator is trying to blow my kazoo, oh, what shall I do? Oh, it was beginning to get really tough to stay awake. Did Alex turn on the other thingies as well? Why? It felt so good only a minute ago, she thought muzzily.
Somehow she was able to detect something moving in the pink mist on the right. There was a slight fffff and the fog began to lift just a little. Now, she could clearly see Theresa well on her way to her kazoo, as it were, with her whole tongue at the ready.
Before Niamh had any chance to react, two black arms reached out from behind Theresa. Within an instant, a large plastic bag was pulled over her head and secured tight with a Velcro strap. She was pulled backwards and rolled down on the floor before Alex’ feet, twisting like a large fish out of water.
“If you keep being silly, you’ll have less than a minute to say you’re sorry.” Alex stated, leaning over her. “Get up. Sit. I won’t help you.”
There was something deeply satisfying about how Theresa’s plum-coloured face looked under the clear plastic clinging to her skin for each attempt to breathe, Niamh thought. Perhaps this part wasn’t part of her plan. Her eyes closed for the first time in minutes, as it seemed, and she tried to speak.
“Louder.” snapped Alex, not moving an inch. “You only have one chance, you know.”
“I seemed to have lost my hearing as well as my good sense of judgement. Again.”
Now, Niamh could only hear wheezing gasps and strangled sobbing as Theresa shook her head. She bit her lip with excitement.
“You’ll be more sorry than you know in a matter of seconds. I’ll tell you what: Do never attempt to seduce- or even touch without my permission- someone I regard as my beloved ever again. That was your last chance.”
Theresa fell over on the floor, kicking madly. The bag was stuck against her open mouth, and she tried to get it off by scraping it against the canvas. Niamh could feel beads of cold sweat form on her forehead as the fresh-smelling clarity slowly began to subside. It was really arousing to watch, but it was beginning to feel a bit dicey.
“Should we wait and see if she can get it off by herself, or should we...” Alex asked.
Niamh nodded, and regretted it almost instantly as the whole room began to sway again. This wasn’t how it should work, was it? Entonox was supposed to be mild stuff for soon-to-be mothers and people afraid of their dentists. But were you supposed to breathe it for this long, and how much of the other stuff did Alex feed to her?
The bag came off and Alex kicked it away with her heel. Theresa lay still, panting like a boxer after a rough round.
“Since you obviously didn’t have anything to say for yourself, you will wear the gag for the duration. I don’t have time and patience for all this nonsense.”
Theresa didn’t seem to suffer that much when Alex brought back the ball gag and used her foot to pump up the dildo with eight good squeezes on the bulb before putting the gag back in her mouth.
“You may watch, but if I hear a single sound from you, you’re out of here. Understood?”
Brushing her hands off to get rid of some imaginary dirt, Alex returned to the cabinet again. She tipped her head aside, watching Niamh intently with a quizzical look. Niamh instantly felt like she was thirteen years old again, and ever so deeply in love. She giggled hollowly inside the mask. Alex looked, if possible, even more astonishing now than earlier. It was as if every single twinkle of light in the black latex flattering her every curve said zing right behind her eyes. She said ‘beloved’. Something made her try to scoop up that something that gave whatever she was pulling down her lungs that Alex-scent, using her tongue. She didn’t succeed very well. It was getting quite numb and didn’t really feel like doing what she wanted it to.
“Well. That leaves the two of us then.” said the two red lips in the moon.
* * *
The fflump noise followed by a stream of tin-tasting warm air with a slight bite to it made her senses find the right gear again, bit by bit. She wasn’t entirely sure if she liked it. When she was two, her uncle had brought home a brand new Thomson colour TV-set, since their old black-and-white one had set fire to the curtains during the cup finals. It really never worked the way it should, and David Frost often looked like an oompa-loompa when her mother used to watch his show. It somehow made more sense to her than the real world, Niamh remembered, and she had the same feeling sitting in the nightmare of a chair without the pleasure of the mild buzz soothing her. She had lost track of time, and wondered how long Alex would keep going. Theresa sat in a wet spot on the canvas looking like a child staying up too late to watch the zombie flick, and Niamh hoped she hadn’t wet herself again.
“You’re still with us, I see. You know, I think I’d like to have a device like this at home, don’t you agree?” Alex began. She ran her fingers over the contents of the case now placed on the shelf and stopped at the mysterious contraption right above the e-stim control box. “Especially one of these. Oh, I haven’t showed you how it works yet, but I think that’ll have to wait... till tomorrow, perhaps.” Niamh remembered, annoyingly lucid, the letters D-R-Ä-G-E-R embossed on the metal front, but couldn’t guess what the box was for. There were two or three knobs on it, and some strange-looking threaded holes on the front.
“I must say it’s quite an impressive thing.” she continued. A little unexpectedly, she scraped her foot and looked down, smiling coyly. “Sweetie, I’m sorry if I was inattentive a moment ago though I know it’s been a while since I trained titration. You seem to get affected really easy, and I don’t want you to start feeling ill. Sorry if I broke off something nice.”
Entering verbose phase, Niamh thought. Now, she had reason to listen up. The use of treacherous bollocks as means of distraction was Alex’ little speciality. Nice talkative lady can still kick like mule; old Chinese wisdom or something like that. So, she had tampered with the mixture. Well, what a surprise, then.
“Did you enjoy it?” Alex asked cheerfully without expecting much more than a quick nod for an answer. “I thought you would, dear. Let’s try it again, but this time it’s really my turn to have a little laugh, eh?”
There was a loud clatter of metal as Alex upended a white cotton bag Niamh hadn’t seen before. Both girls watched with interest to see what she had stashed away in it.
“It’s really a great shame that our hero back there is such a genius when it comes to useful inventions- much like this little trolley of fun- but such a nit in the toy department.” Alex ranted. “If I had been male, brawny, beardy and gay as a lieutenant, his gear would without doubt be my personal weapons of choice. But now...” She held up two rather intimidating instruments probably designed to cause equal amounts of pleasure and pain. The problem, Niamh deduced, was that you couldn’t get both out of one end, and the person using it on someone else was obviously the one getting all the pleasure. “...this is all he had to offer me to play with. I guess I have to use my imagination.”
Niamh closed her eyes again.
“I think I’ll settle for this little baby. It doesn’t look that bad, actually.” Alex mused, wielding something that resembled a massage wand crossed with a professional power tool. On the emptied bag, there were a few imaginatively designed sleeves that seemed to fit the soft, round head of the gadget. “I know you really like these buzzing buggers, dear. They are a great help sometimes.”
In between breaths, Niamh could hear a little squeaking noise. It sounded very much like Oscar playing with one of his chewy toys, but it came from Theresa. She was trying to get some stimulation from rocking back and forth kneeling on the floor. Niamh was a bit impressed by her agility, since she managed to touch the floor with the base of the dildo between her legs. Meanwhile, Alex busied herself with preparing the toys.
“Why not give that black box another chance to prove itself worthy of praise? Now, where did I put that cute little cork?” she said. “Did you happen to see where it went, Terry girl? Oh, there we have it.”
She picked up the acrylic plug with the wires dangling from it, turning and scrutinizing it with a serious look on her face. There was something with it that made her frown.
“If I hadn’t been in such good mood I would have made you clean this with your tongue as well. Disgusting. Don’t you eat properly? Tomorrow, I think I’ll ask Niamh to give you an enema.”
Wait a minute. Niamh nearly missed the glint in Alex’ eye when she gave her a spurning stare. Apparently, she wasn’t just pulling a leg, but spanking the hell out of it while she was at it. However, there was no joke about making use of Mr. Tesla’s little wonders again, though. The plug was attached to the box and, although it probably already was sanitized, Alex went over it again with a wet wipe. As a little cherry on top, she squeezed a blob of blue lube from a little plastic tube onto it.
“It would surely hurt without this, and we don’t want that, do we?”
Instead of bending her forward, Alex pressed a lever with her foot and tipped Niamh backwards into a recumbent, but far from comfortable position. This made her feel even more vulnerable, since she wasn’t really prepared to share every angle of herself with others than Alex. She tried to convey the message silently, and was met by an understanding nod.
“If our dear paparazzo would have the decency of putting down the remote for just a little while, we would be very grateful indeed.” Alex said loudly. She leaned closer to Niamh and lowered her voice. “You are aware that each and every single one of those pictures will stay with us, aren’t you? Good. Lean back and have a nice ride at the fun fair now, sweetie.”
Niamh smiled under the mask. Listening to Alex’ voice when she was in that mood was like having a really strong drink warming her inside, and she was actually able to relax a bit without being even mildly affected by the gas. She wondered if that could get her into trouble, if her instincts and reflexes were lulled that much just by the sight and sound of her so close. It was like being hypnotised, even if it was probably mostly self-induced, she thought.
A cold, hard plastic feeling in her rear interrupted her musings. Nimble fingers ensured that the procedure was nearly painless, and the plug slid neatly into place. Niamh’s initial response was to try to push it out, but it was held in place until her body had accepted the intruder. The most irritating thing, she thought, was Theresa starting to sound like a cat in heat. Give her the bag again, somebody, until she learns to shut up. My shop’s going to close early if she goes on like that for long.
The following moment, she had to bite down quite hard not to groan in the same obnoxious way. Alex had probably kept the program setting from her little session with poor Terry, and that meant serious voltage from the very beginning. She was glad that she didn’t have anything up front- yet, at least- toasting her there as well. It would have been far too intense, but this didn’t feel all that bad even if the box seemed to be capable of heating more than a cup of tea. The involuntary twitching in her back passage had a strange, scrummy undertone that she already enjoyed. It wasn’t as slick and sweet as Alex’ sensitive fingers, though, and she missed having them sneaking in there. Oh, yes please.
Circling the chair slowly, Alex pushed away her hair and held her head up.
“Take a close look at her now, schatje,” she whispered alluringly, nodding towards Theresa. “You’re making her very happy indeed. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Despite her extraordinarily looking outfit and her deflated puppet way of kneeling, Niamh could only look straight into her eyes, flaring in the dim light. They really are green. The madness in them had transformed into a detached, thousand-mile stare, but there was an air of deep satisfaction about her now. Very strange. Niamh wondered how she had looked when she was Alex’ sidekick only an hour or so ago. This truly was something she would remember, and something she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone, ever.
A stretchy, snapping sound indicated that Alex was preparing the tool-like toy by attaching one of the weird sleeves to the head. Putting it aside, she turned to Niamh again, letting her right hand slide down the front of the straitjacket, stopping right above the naked skin over her pubes.
“I have to say you drive me absolutely crazy. You’re far too gorgeous for your own good, do you know that?”
Niamh shook her head, arching her back when the fingertips wandered like quills over her slippery labia. The touch made her open up wide, forgetting everything about who was watching. Her sphincter tried to strangle the plug, and that only enhanced the feeling of sharp needles tickle her rather excruciatingly from the inside.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Alex cooed, slowly running her fingers round and round without touching the most sensitive areas. “I suspect you would rather have me pleasuring you for hours on end, you little princess, you.”
“E’s mh’m” was all Niamh managed when Alex suddenly homed in on the target, making her buck and heave as much as the restraints allowed.
“Do you feel ready to try the gas again? I promise not to put you under,” continued Alex, in an even more seductive tone. “I’ll just give you enough to make this a memorable... session... for you.”
Now, all Niamh could comprehend was the overwhelming sensation of electricity and dreamily soft pressure on the exact spots. She nodded out of reflex.
“How fortunate, then, that you kept your seatbelt on. Hold on tight, sweetie.”
* * *
Alex set about her work with great efficiency, placing herself on one of the chairs with both the cabinet and Niamh within easy reach. Niamh had trouble keeping up with what was happening, and she began feeling a little more uncertain when the power tool ended up being fastened with a purpose-built clamp between her legs. Alex carefully adjusted it, so that the round, soft head equipped with something that felt like rubber-tipped jelly fingers barely touched her. Not too bad if Alex only meant it to stay that way, which Niamh strongly doubted. There always was a catch to the nice surprises, and perhaps vice versa. There’s psychology for you, then.
Watching the gauges very carefully with a very business-like serious look to her, Alex looked more and more like a real nurse, albeit a very strange one, Niamh thought. She recalled her feverish dreams from the hospital, and even if this wasn’t exactly what she had been fantasizing about, it was not that very far from it. Terry as a gimp and background muzak were two things too far out to qualify even in her league.
Alex motioned to her to breathe deeply as she reached for the circuit valve. Niamh wondered how much training she really had in this field. She seemed confident enough, but were there really any guarantees? Yeah, now I suddenly come to think of it. Silly fat-arsed me. Would she treat her the same way as she did with Theresa? It wouldn’t be great to lose control over bladder and bowels just because someone overdid things a lii-ttle bit, or getting taser burns on her bum as another little souvenir. She remembered how fast she’d went from ‘slightly tipsy’ to ‘pissed out of her head’ without getting anywhere close to a real high, and without any real chance to say stop. Oh, no; a bit more care required here, please. And kill that fucking music.
A few drops of sweat burned in her eyes as she waited for the barely perceptible smell to return, but all she could detect was a salty hair-curling freshness of what she thought was oxygen over the bland, dry compressed air. There was a loud click, and the toy between her legs began to stir. She was a little too uptight to appreciate any stimulation of that kind, but she was a little surprised to find that it didn’t exactly vibrate, but rather tremble and turn a little. Niamh rolled her eyes and tried to figure out why someone would build a giant electric toothbrush to have fun with.
Now, she was just feeling restless and itchy. The distant music sounded like André had swapped the speakers for buckets all of a sudden, and she was sure she could hear her mobile ringing somewhere. She wasn’t even aware that she had brought it up here. Sorry, I’m in a tight spot right now. Bit tied down, actually. I’ve got jumper cables up my trumpet, an automatic hedgehog with a swimcap is flirting with my fanny and my partner’s about to try to gas me. Can I give you a ring later?
She cackled a little, and stopped, surprised with herself all of a sudden. The ringing noise was still there, but very distant. Perhaps it was downstairs? She tried to move a little, but though her limbs felt lighter and much less constrained than only a minute ago, she couldn’t move. When she tried harder, it was like opening a well-shaken beer bottle inside her. Fizzy bubbles rose from her feet and up, making her gasp. Somewhere in her lower regions, there was a pleasant tickling feeling, not unlike riding a bike down a very steep hill.
Oh, hello! Alex was back in her field of vision again, which made her happy. She wanted to kiss her right there and then, restrained or not, but her body didn’t even give it a try.
“That feels much better, doesn’t it? I obviously gave you a bit too much earlier, sweetie.”
Gradually adjusting herself to the floating feeling, she became increasingly aware of the very warm sensation radiating from her private regions. The toy had been put in higher gear without her really knowing it, and it did a good job. So did the vicious little plug, but she only registered it as something very pleasurable happening to her, and let the system work on automatic while she admired every single detail in the face hovering over hers.
A glint of metal followed by little ants walking across her mons made her giggle with delight. She took a deep breath as they took a left turn down her thigh, and there was a first ripple on the surface when she distantly felt her muscles contract in accord with the morse code from her behind and the whirring thing that felt so warm and grassy. Heisenberg, Mandelbrot, what’s-his-name wheel. Frankenstein? I love it.
There were fingers in her hair, brushing it away, and her eyes tried to follow the black hand as it moved downwards again. The device took on a more constipated sound, and the flow into the mask waned rapidly into nearly nothing. Niamh groaned disappointedly, but was unable to do anything but keep trying to breathe. She was a little amused with the new background noises she could discern; the hot, wheezingly heavy breath that was Alex five inches from her face, and the hopelessly aroused gurgling from Theresa squeaking away on the floor. Squeaksqueaksqueak. Go help her come a few times before I start laughing. I’m doing just fine here, thank you very much.
She didn’t make a sound until black blotches appeared before her eyes, and her lungs felt turned inside out; and then the pressure was immediately back in the mask again. There was an unexpected surge of fizzing sensations within her, and before she knew it, her body finally decided to respond in the only rational way it could find.
“Oh!” she could clearly hear Alex sob, “Oh yes. That’s it.”
A little mystified by how it felt- it was like experiencing a very vivid memory of the waves starting to roll in over her- she accepted being swept away like debris. She could hear her own guttural growls from under the mask, and thought that she sounded pretty good. Oh, here’s another. And...Oh, mother... Even more surprisingly was the fact that she seemed to stay surfing on each little peak just a while longer than she was used to; even with Alex at her best though they actually bit better then, as if her mind wanted to hammer the message ‘you are having a great time if you didn’t know that’ through to her.
Niamh had already lost count of the waves hitting her, when she felt the plug slip out of her as she suddenly lost nearly all muscle tone. Alex gave a little surprised hoot when she squirted all over the happily oscillating power tool, and Niamh felt familiar fingers replace the toys she couldn’t remember having been without for a really long time. Her sphincter gladly accepted Alex’ warm, rubbery digits and gave them a little friendly squeeze to welcome them, but up front she only felt bloated, very sticky and numb. There wasn’t much left in her now, and her heart seemed to call for a short pause as it slowed down and stung a little in her chest.
A sudden whiff making her nostrils prickle had the opposite effect, and her pulse took on the familiar hammer-on-the-anvil beat again. Her eyes and head cleared almost painfully quick, and she started to shiver a little. The straitjacket suddenly seemed icy cold and clammy, but the sensation subsided as Alex gradually let her down by adjusting the flow one last time.
The mask came off, and Niamh wondered how her face looked like after wearing it for so long- even if she didn’t really know how long- but Alex seemed to be too excited to notice anything worth a comment when she virtually attached herself to Niamh’s dry lips, knocking her over by sheer force.
“Wonderful.” mumbled Alex without letting go, “Magic. Oh, sweetheart; how are you feeling? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Niamh didn’t know what to say. She caught a short glimpse of Theresa lying tipped over sideways on the floor, still in the wet spot and with a look of total exhaustion on her. The dildo, still inflated, had begun to retire after messing the girl up really bad, but was still trapped inside the transparent shorts. Niamh thought she looked lonely.
“Help her out first.” she said. “I’m O.K. Help her first, then you can get me out of this effing thing.” Always turn your attention toward the silent ones first echoed in her head. So now it was first aid time, she thought. Well, overall, there were astonishingly few casualties. Show’s over, kids.
With her feet back on the canvas, carefully trying to regain some balance with a body that wasn’t really ready to perform any elaborate tricks in the walking department yet, Niamh wondered what would happen the next day. There was no real reason to try anything more demanding than this, she thought. Still, Alex had promised them a full program until Monday evening, and there was always a great risk for another marathon session of some sort. And this is how I feel Friday night. she said to herself. I’ve got to get fit before this kills me.
* * *