A TALE OF SEDUCTION, COERCION, & ART
by Van © 2003
Our story continues
Bess stretched luxuriously, enjoying the feel of the soft cotton sheets tangled under and around her nude body. She was in Jennifer's "bedroom," the loft above the kitchen. Her "Slave Mitts" still encased her hands and were clipped together behind her back, but she was otherwise free... and relaxed... and felt good! She stretched again, rolling her shoulders and pulling on her bonds, pointing her toes and extending her legs full length. The sheets were damp and warm and the musky aroma of sex hung in the air.
Bess lay back and looked up at the ceiling, wood slats between the peeled log trusses of the roof. The bed was a king-sized platform with a low, solid frame of peeled logs. Almost everything in sight looked handmade. Bess licked her lips, savoring the salty remnants of Jennifer's musk and their commingled sweat, still shining on her chin and lower face. Bess shuddered with delight, her loins tingling as she remembered the first round of their lovemaking: Bess bound and gagged on her back, Jennifer holding her "guest's" legs apart (her strong arms and shoulders easily controlling Bess' "struggles") and licking her labia, probing with her tongue, suckling and stroking her "prisoner's" sex. Finally, Bess had succumbed to a glorious orgasm, Jennifer lifting her smiling face to watch Bess shudder, shake, and squirm... they cuddled and catnapped for several minutes... then Jennifer had repeated her performance!
Bess shivered and rubbed her thighs together, rolling on the bed. Apparently the very soul of selflessness, Jennifer would have tried for a third orgasm for Bess, but the captive had m'mmpfhed and squirmed and communicated her desire to be ungagged, then had "attacked" her "captor," writhing and wiggling through the covers and flopping atop Jennifer's glistening body. She had rained kisses on the grinning brunette's face, then worked her way down her body, licking and nibbling her way until her tongue was in a position to begin repaying her debt. Bess grinned at the memory of Jennifer's eventual orgasm, her hands clutching and pulling on the sheets, her very loud but totally inarticulate vocal encouragement, the way her thighs clenched and closed on Bess' head, until she was half-afraid her head might be crushed like a melon!
Jennifer had been instantly apologetic (as well as sated and exhausted). They had snuggled and dozed... then Bess had opened her eyes to find most of the day gone and herself alone in the bed. She could hear Jennifer (she assumed it was Jennifer) puttering around down below, in the kitchen. The refrigerator opened and closed... and Bess' stomach growled. She sighed, disentangled herself from the sheets, yawned, shook the hair from her face (or tried, anyway), and pattered down the stairs.
Jennifer was back in her jeans and sports top, and had added a dark green cook's apron to the ensemble. Sandals were on her feet; similar to the sport sandals Maggie had placed on Bess' feet... all those many long hours before... in the early morning... when Jennifer was still "The Running Woman".
Suddenly (inexplicably) shy, Bess stopped a few feet from Jennifer, blushing and very much aware of her nude, helpless condition. "Uh... hi," she muttered.
Jennifer smiled, stepped forward, and gathered the bound, raven-haired captive in her arms. "Hi," she answered, and their lips met. The kiss lasted for several seconds... then Jennifer stepped back to the counter.
Bess followed, licking her lips, and gazed down at the rectangular glass casserole dish in front of Jennifer. "Marinate... that's what I smell," she said.
Jennifer was spearing large cubes of beef on steel skewers, alternating the dripping, spice and pepper-flaked chunks with thick slices of tomato, onion, and peppers. "I've already got the fire going," she announced, nodding out the window towards a barbecue and picnic table. "These won't take very long."
"Good, I'm starving," Bess mumbled.
Jennifer grinned. "I'm well aware of your healthy appetite," she purred (and Bess blushed again). "We can eat outside... enjoy the sunset."
Bess smiled coyly. "I'm a little underdressed for the evening chill, aren't I?"
"I'll fix that once I get these kabobs over the coals," Jennifer answered. "Wait here."
Maggie watched as Jane tugged on the straps holding her down and mewed through her gag. Her punishment for testing the efficacy of her chastity belt present had been to serve as "inspiration" for Maggie's brainstorming about the still gelling "Training Lab" concept, the Star Fox set in which one of the captured Star Rangers would be brainwashed. The dialogue and notes were vague, not really setting any physical parameters with which Maggie had to comply. Maggie knew from experience this was a situation fraught with danger. Unless she came up with something compelling, the scene might spiral into mediocrity. Once the train left the station on a production, no one had the energy for anything as time-consuming as... creativity.
Jane was naked, but for her damasked chastity belt. Her minimalist French maid costume had been removed and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She was secured to a "back-board," a rectangular slab of plywood with slots cut in its periphery that doubled as hand-holds and convenient lashing points. The board was essentially identical to the commercial models used by EMS and Rescue crews to transport accident victims, but Maggie had made this one herself, and stained it a dark walnut before giving it several coats of clear sealer. Wide velcro straps restrained the squirming Jane at her wrists, ankles, upper arms, and knees, the straps wrapped around the anatomy in question, through one of the slots, and stretched tight before being secured. Her pose was, therefore, arms at her sides but away from her body and her legs apart, like an unbaked and decidedly female gingerbread man. Her gag was the prototype "Standard Slaver Gag" Bess had worn the day before: a foam ball on a rubber strap and a rubber over-mask that covered her lower face from nose to chin. As a final touch, nylon cargo straps had been ratcheted tight around the board and her helpless body across her breasts, waist, and thighs; ratcheted until they dimpled the young captive's flesh.
Then had come the vibrator, a saddle-headed monster at the end of a long extension cord. Maggie had set it on low and used it to explore Jane's helpless body, all the while her brow furrowed and eyes focused on something far, far away. She'd run the vibrator over some part of Jane's squirming anatomy for a few minutes... then grab her palette computer and sketch or scribble some notes with the stylus... then pick up the vibrator and begin again. This had been the pattern for the last few hours.
Jane sighed as vibrator was exchanged for stylus yet again, and Maggie strolled to the workshop's window wall. She hated it when Maggie got like this. If she's gonna strap me down and 'torture' me, the least she could do is give me her full attention.
Suddenly Maggie smiled and snapped the palette's stylus into its clip on the edge of the frame. "Eureka!" She walked over to Jane and gazed down into her blue eyes. "The problem is focus," she said. "I've been trying to figure out how to make the brainwashing thing look threatening... but I don't have to!" She picked up the vibrator, switched it on high, and slowly eased the horns of the merrily buzzing saddle towards the sole of Jane's left foot. Jane squirmed and curled her toes, then squeezed her eyes closed and mewed through her gag as the saddle made contact with her toes and Maggie began playing it up and down her pink, wrinkled sole.
"It was right there in the script all along," Maggie said, shifting the vibrator to Jane's right foot. "'The Slaver gloats about torture being combined with brain stimulation, to break down the subject's resistance. I'll design a sinister looking couch to restrain the Star Ranger, then do something artistic with two big clear lucite blocks full of blinking fiber optics that close over her cranium, and then have a wicked set of robot arms with 'nerve whips' down at the feet! And the feet can be in futuristic stocks with a frame of clamps to restrain the toes! It'll look good from overhead, the side, from the subject's point of view looking down her body towards her feet, close-ups of the face and the feet... It'll be classic!"
Maggie stopped vibrating Jane's feet (much to her relief) and puttered around the shop. Jane craned her neck and watched (with some trepidation) as Maggie used a clamp to secure the vibrator to a heavy camera tripod, then wheeled the makeshift vibrator stand towards the squirming captive's feet.
"Hmm... eenie meanie meinie moe..." she muttered, gazing from foot to foot. "You have a preference?" she asked finally.
Jane's answer was to curl both sets of toes and struggle against her restraints, all the while shaking her head and forcing "nuh'huh" sounds past her gag.
"Oh, you're no help," Maggie sighed. "I'll go with the right."
The toes of the designated foot curled and the foot flexed, but Maggie positioned the tripod and locked its wheels, then fiddled with the adjustments until the saddle was flush with the sole in question. She then produced a thin velcro strap, threaded it through the clamp securing the vibrator to the tripod's main mount, and wrapped the ends across Jane's foot, enforcing contact of the reluctant flesh with the horns and ridges of the vibrator's saddle.
Desperate blue and gloating green eyes locked... and Maggie thumbed the vibrator's control, pausing at each setting as she clicked the switch from low... to medium-low... to medium... to medium-high... to high.
Sweat was glistening on Jane's forehead as she struggled and squirmed. It tickles!
"Obviously no real pain is involved here," Maggie purred, "so I'll leave you while I make a few calls to my suppliers. I have to see if I can get lucite in blocks the size I need or if I'll have to cast something myself. Meanwhile, let's see how you fare, shall we?" She straightened Jane's bangs and smiled down at her helpless victim (and lover.) "Will the sensations fade with time, or will they get worse?" Jane mewed and struggled as Maggie picked up her palette computer and strolled to the door. She paused, consulting the computer's screen. "Let's see now... Oh yes. To quote the script: 'Your mental training will avail you naught, Star Ranger. I've used this machine on many species, and it has never failed. Suffer, slave!'" She then turned off the lights and left, locking the door behind her.
Jane relaxed in her bonds. The vibrator tickled... but it wasn't that bad. It was all a game, of course. Still... not being able to make it stop... She really was helpless and abandoned, and being "tortured!" Jane shuddered and wiggled her right foot. The resulting change in the pattern of contact made some parts tingle worse while others were only lightly vibrated. She felt a thrill of pleasure in her loins and squirmed her hips, but could do nothing to stimulate her steel encased sex. She relaxed her foot, again altering the contact with the vibrator and sending a quaking shudder of pleasure/distress across the sensitive sole. The continuing contact was getting... bothersome.
The shish kabobs were slow cooking over the coals and potatoes and corn were wrapped in foil and roasting. Back in the house, Jennifer was rummaging in the coat closet for something to keep Bess warm while they dined outside.
"What's that?" Bess asked, nodding towards the canvas jacket at one end of the row of coats, sweaters, and running togs. The coat... Bess thought it was a coat... was undyed cotton, and something about it was... unusual.
Jennifer smiled. "A gift from Maggie," she said, and reached for the canvas coat's hanger. She pulled it from the rack, and her smile widened when she heard Bess' gasp.
The naked captive swallowed nervously, fidgeting her hands (still Slave Mitt encased and clipped behind her back.) "It's a strait-jacket!"
"I find it a little tight," Jennifer purred, "but I think it'll fit you perfectly."
Bess' heart was hammering. She swallowed again, but said nothing.
Jennifer chuckled and shook her head. "I'm not Maggie, you know. I don't make it a habit of keeping my models tied up." She turned and hung the jacket back in the closet.
"Wait!" Bess blurted. "How does it... How..."
"You want me to put that thing on you," Jennifer suggested, "don't you?"
Bess blushed. "No, no! I... I'm just... curious."
Jennifer laughed, took a step forward, and gathered Bess into her arms. "Since you won't let me cut you out of Maggie's mitts, I'm already waiting on you hand and foot... and now you want to be even more helpless? As a house guest you're a lot of trouble, Ms. Donovan."
"No, really," Bess answered, still blushing. "I was only curious. I don't want to be trouble."
Jennifer laughed again and took the straitjacket from its hanger. The many buckles of its straps tinkled and pinged ominously as she draped it over one arm. "These days, curiosity is a cardinal virtue," Jennifer said, then spun Bess around and unclipped her mitts. "Arms out," the grinning brunette ordered.
"I must be crazy," Bess muttered, but complied.
Jennifer laughed as she pulled the long, dangling, closed sleeves over Bess' arms and draped the jacket around her body. "'Crazy'... What a comedian." The jacket closed in the back, of course, first with a heavy steel zipper, then with a series of leather buckles.
"Huh?" Bess whispered, gasping as the zipper closed.
"Strait-jacket? Crazy? Get it?"
Bess laughed, but it was clear she was more nervous than amused. "What did you mean before about your models—Oh!" She gasped as the first of the straps was buckled over the zipper.
"All of these are 'Y' shaped," Jennifer explained, "with the branching ends running in channels sewn in the canvas. "That's the bra strap. Feel how it frames your boobs." Bess nodded, the gasped again as the remaining three buckles were closed. "These others have the branching ends overlapping... so they're like a corset."
"I'll say they are," Bess mumbled, looking down at the jacket front as it hugged her body. She could see the outline of the veritable leather body harness sewn into the jacket, but most of all... she could feel it. The canvas fit her torso like a sweater, hugging every curve. "And this thing fits you? "
"I said it was tight," Jennifer reminded her. "Actually, there's a network of heavy elastic cords joining the zipper and the jacket itself, so it fits a reasonably wide range of sizes... but all the buckles are landing right in the middle of the range of holes on the straps, as if it was made for you." She turned Bess around and examined the hang of the sleeves. "I was half-afraid this wouldn't work, 'cause of the Slave Mitts, but they seem to just fit." The canvas sleeves ended in long dangling straps (of course) and Bess watched as Jennifer threaded their ends through a strap sewn into the jacket below her breasts. "You know how this works," she said as she stepped back behind, "so give yourself a nice hug."
Bess did so, and gasped again as Jennifer pulled the sleeve straps through leather reinforced slots sewn in the jacket at the small of Bess' back, threaded the terminal buckle, and pulled it tight.
"What were you asking before about my models?" Jennifer asked.
"You said you weren't Maggie and don't keep your models tied up?" Bess reminded her captor. "You paint live models?"
Jennifer nodded. "I do indeed," she said. "Would you like to model for me, Bess? You'd be perfect for the piece I'm working on now."
Bess blushed... and nodded.
Jennifer leaned close and whispered in Bess' left ear as she slid the free end of the strap enforcing Bess' arm crossing hug into the channel sewn into the strap beyond the buckle. "All that's left is the diaper flap... and consider yourself hired."
Bess shivered in the straitjacket's tight embrace and looked down, watching as Jennifer reached around her body. The "diaper flap" was triangular and terminated in a double-tongued roller buckle. Bess squirmed her hips as Jennifer pulled the flap over her loins and between her legs, then tightened and secured the buckle. The plain canvas was almost skin-tight over her entire torso, and the bottom hem very French-cut, exposing most of Bess' hips and buttocks.
Jennifer spun her around and took a step back. "Perfect," she purred.
There was none of the gloating villainess in Jennifer's manner, Bess noted (...or very little, anyway). Whereas Maggie would have role-played (would have been) the Evil Kidnapper, Jennifer was content to be the close (very close) friend helping Bess play dress-up. "This thing's cut a little kinky," Bess said, "but it's also... tight."
"And fully functional," Jennifer added, then her smile turned slightly feral. "That thing is tight. I can see your nipples through the canvas." Bess blushed and Jennifer took a step forward and to the side, draped her left arm over Bess' shoulders, and used her right hand to caress her guest's canvas covered sex. "And just look at that camel toe," she purred, tracing the cleaved bulge of Bess' mons and labia.
Bess' blush darkened. "The kabobs aren't burning, are they?"
Jennifer chuckled and continued her lambent caress. "They're fine... simmering in their juices on the edge of the fire." She leaned close and nibbled Bess' right ear. "Simmering in their juices," she repeated in a whisper. Bess turned her head and they kissed. The kiss lasted for several seconds; their tongues sliding together and their wet lips suckling hungrily... then Jennifer took a step towards the closet. "Your ensemble's not quite complete." She rummaged among the hanging clothes and returned with a dangling collection of several large and small leather cuffs clipped to a clutter of leather straps.
Bess watched as two of the smaller cuffs were unclipped and dropped to the floor, then Jennifer began looping one of the remaining four around her canvas covered upper arm, just above her right elbow. The cuff was brown leather, like the straps of the jacket, but was thick and stiff and padded with butter-soft tan leather. It closed by means of a hasp being fitted through one of the cuff's many slots, then secured by a stiff leather strap that also threaded the hasp and was buckled closed. A similar cuff was buckled around her left arm, then a much wider but thinner belt around her waist. "This is ridiculous," Bess complained, then gasped as a stiff collar was buckled around her throat. " Houdini couldn't escape all this!"
"I know," Jennifer agreed, as she began tightening the various attached straps that linked the collar, belt, and arm cuffs behind Bess' back. "Redundant to the point of absurdity. Not even Wonder Woman could get out of this thing."
Bess squirmed in the jacket and over-harness as Jennifer knelt and buckled the remaining cuffs around her ankles. Wonder Woman... "Wait... Maggie didn't work on that aborted Wonder Woman movie, did she?"
"'Fraid so," Jennifer confirmed. "I was her model for Princess Diana's more restrictive costume designs. Maggie got really bitter when the deal fell through. Studio politics... It's almost like the cretins don't want to make money."
Bess nodded. "I understand it's still in Development Hell. If the lawyers ever sort out the rights, it could still happen."
"I'm not holding my breath," Jennifer muttered, then stood and smiled. "There... that's enough for now."
Bess laughed. "'Enough for now'... What else is there? Elephant chains and a padlock the size of a bowling ball?" She lifted her right foot, gracefully balancing on her left. "Don't these cuffs get locked together or something?"
Jennifer laughed and shook her head. "You want me to hand feed you and carry you around? Talk about the house guest from hell!" She turned and walked towards the kitchen.
Bess watched her depart, continuing to balance on one foot. "They have to be there for a reason," she said, twisting her right foot and examining the stiff, tight cuff.
"Ever hear the one about curiosity and the cat?" Jennifer called from the open door. "C'mon!"
Bess returned to both feet and pattered towards her host. "I'm just asking," she muttered, a coy smile on her prettily blushing face.
"Later!" Jennifer answered, giving Bess a playful swat on her nearly naked behind as she passed.
Dinner was delicious. Bess sat at the picnic table, watching Jennifer cook, and they talked. It turned out they'd both attended UCLA, but not at the same time. They'd missed each other by one year, although they agreed that as an Art major and a Film-TV/Economics double major they would almost certainly have missed each other anyway on the crowded campus. (Maggie, it turned out, had gone to Berkeley.)
Beef, roasted vegetables, and beer consumed; meal clutter removed to the house; they shared a double-wide garden lounge chair and watched the sunset, snuggling together under a blanket.
"Tell me about your painting," Bess mumbled, her head resting on Jennifer's left shoulder.
Jennifer combed her fingers through Bess' hair as she answered. "I do illustrations and dust jackets for children's books and novels, mostly fantasy and science fiction... and I paint for the benefit of my muse as well."
"I didn't see a lot of art hanging on your walls."
"I have a few items in Jane's room and the guest room," Jennifer answered.
Bess lifted her head. "Who's Jane?"
Jennifer smiled. "Is that jealousy, Ms. Donovan?" she teased.
"That's curiosity," Bess answered with a coy smirk, "that modern virtue you admire so much."
"Jane's my brat sister," Jennifer explained. "Technically she lives here, but she's away most of the time these days. C'mon, it's getting cold out here." She climbed to her feet, gathered the blanket-wrapped Bess into her arms, and headed for the house. Once inside she settled Bess on her bare (ankle-cuffed) feet and folded the blanket. "I suppose I should help you visit the little girl's room," Jennifer suggested.
"I could do with a 'number one'," Bess agreed.
They both used the facilities, Jennifer releasing and then re-securing Bess' "diaper flap." Next, she scrubbed both their faces, used one brush to straighten first her guest's long black hair, then her own long brown curls, then used a second, much smaller brush to clean their teeth.
"I think that's the first time anyone has ever brushed my teeth for me," Bess said, then leaned close and planted a messy, spearmint flavored kiss on her hostess. "I really like the service around here."
Jennifer held a glass of water for Bess to rinse and spit, then patted both their faces with a damp face cloth. "Don't get used to it," she muttered.
Bess laughed. "Maybe after Maggie gets me out of these Mitts, I can come back and return the favor... strap you in this canvas cocoon and cater to your every need."
This time Jennifer blushed. "Get up to bed!" she ordered.
Bess laughed and pattered up the stairs towards the loft. She paused when she saw Jennifer rummaging in the coat closet, then continued up the stairs. The straitjacketed and harnessed prisoner flopped on the bed and rolled onto her back. As Jennifer came into view Bess squirmed in her inescapable bonds and sighed dramatically. "I suppose now you're going to have your wicked way with my helpless body."
"You're in a playful mood, aren't you," Jennifer observed. "If beer does this to you, I can't wait to pop the cork on some champagne."
Bess continued struggling. "Do your worst, you Evil Kidnapper! I'll fight you every inch of the way, as you..." Bess put her distressed-damsel act on hold, noticing for the first time that her captor had a tangle of leather straps and tinkling buckles in one hand. She watched as Jennifer opened the bottom drawer of her dresser and sorted through a collection of several neatly coiled hanks of nylon rope. The grinning 'Evil Kidnapper' made her selections, carried them to the bed, and dropped the rope and straps on the sheets. Bess eyed them nervously, then shifted her gaze to her captor.
Jennifer smiled down at her captive... then pounced! She rolled Bess on her stomach, grabbed a strap, clipped one end to the back of the waist belt of Bess' harness, folded the captive's left leg back, and clipped the other end to the left ankle cuff. The strap was thick, wide, and stiff, and formed a cross with a second strap. The second strap was buckled around Bess' left thigh; then Jennifer selected the remaining crossed strap, and Bess' right leg, ankle, and thigh received similar treatment.
Bess was rolled back over and then up onto her splayed knees. "The rest of Wonder Woman's restraint ensemble?" she asked, twisting her folded legs and testing the new straps.
Jennifer leaned forward and kissed her prisoner. "You're not going anywhere, Amazon Princess."
Bess smiled nervously and watched as Jennifer tied a rope around her left leg, cinched it near her knee, and tossed the free end to the side. Her right leg and knee were bound, then Jennifer tied the rope to the bed frame, walked to the other side, pulled Bess' knees apart to full stretch, and tied off the rope. She winced as Jennifer cinched each rope again, until the flesh of both her knees and upper shins was dimpled. "What was that you were telling me about how you're not like Maggie?"
Leaning close from behind her prisoner's back, Jennifer was stacking pillows behind Bess' butt. "If I were Maggie," she purred, "I'd tie you like this and leave you for an hour... reminding you of how isolated and helpless you are... of your inability to stop me from doing anything I want to your body... how completely dependent you are on me for everything... Yessss, that's what I'd do... if I were Maggie." She slithered around Bess' kneeling form until they were face to face, and gave the captive a savage kiss.
The kiss ended and Bess realized her captor was threading a rope through a ring in the front of her harness collar, just under her chin. "What are you going to—Hey!" Jennifer had planted her right palm between Bess' breasts and given her a shove. She fell back and bounced on the bed, her hair fluttering, flailing, and half-covering her face. "That was rude!" she complained.
Jennifer smiled, climbed off the bed and tied one end of the collar rope to the upper bed frame. She then walked around the bed, her eyes locked with Bess', and tied the opposite end tight. She reached down and Bess heard velcro rip, then Jennifer kicked off her sandals. She then stood and unzipped and pulled off her jeans; then her sports top; and then stepped out of her panties.
Meanwhile, Bess had explored her condition. Straitjacketed and harnessed, her thighs strapped to her ankles and knees splayed, she was flat on her back with her butt elevated. The rope through her collar was tight but neither interfered with her breathing. She squirmed in her bonds. The rope did, of course, prevent her from executing a sit-up and getting back onto her knees.
Nude and graceful, Jennifer climbed onto the bed, the panties in her left hand. She straddled Bess and settled her weight on the captive's abdomen, then leaned close, brushed Bess hair from her face, and kissed her again. She then sat back, lifted the crumpled panties and held them for Bess' inspection. "Now what should I do with these?" she asked, a coy smile curling her lips.
"Don't you have a laundry hamper?" Bess asked through clenched teeth.
Jennifer laughed and dropped the panties on the bed, a few inches to the right of Bess' head. "That's another difference I have with Maggie," she said as she slid down Bess' body, reached under her prisoner's rump, and began unbuckling the strait-jacket's diaper flap.
Bess squirmed and bit her lower lip. "What difference?"
The flap came free and was tucked out of the way, and Jennifer used her strong, tan fingers to spread Bess' already moist and swollen labia. "I like hearing my lover scream," Jennifer purred as she licked her lips and leaned forward.