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association day 5 by adrian hunter and chelsea shepard

Association (a serial bdsm novel) By Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard

Note: past episodes can be accessed at
http://www.adrianhunter.com/association_about.htm

DAY FIVE--GEOFFREY

The day dawned red and promptly reversed, growing progressively darker
as the weather took a turn for the wetter. After a hearty and strangely
pleasant breakfast, I led Sabrina downstairs to the studio.

"Indoor sports today, I'm afraid," I announced in what I thought was a
cheerful tone of voice. "Looks like this could last through the weekend.
Good thing we're on schedule."

Stop chattering, you asshole, I almost said out loud. To distract
myself, I walked to the edge of the room and pulled out a rack laden with
fancy leather outfits, elegant European designs suitable for a cocktail
party at Versailles or a disco on Capri.

Let her go to the ball for a while. Plenty of time before the clock
strikes midnight.

And I already knew the shoe would fit my Cinderella's foot, not to
mention her ankle, calf, knee and thigh.

I let her have fun playing dress-up, her demeanor becoming less
inhibited as the hours rolled by like minutes. After a glass or two of
wine at lunch, she became positively saucy, then borderline obscene,
flashing various body parts in perfect time to the lights triggered by my
shutter.

I realized this particular session would give me more than enough
naughty pictures for the association's stupid little annual report. If
they even bothered to use them. But I could probably sell several thousand
copies myself after she's safely transported to the other side of the
planet. Maybe they could be used as bait for new subscribers to
bdsm-vixens.com or whichever porn site offered me the most money for the
proofs.

Not that I was going to need the extra dough, according to the most
recent telegram from Hong Kong informing me that her auction was
progressing splendidly. But fresh pictures always helped spur reluctant
bidders.

I waited until Sabrina tried on the micro-miniskirt, then suggested she
put on the thigh-high boots from the day before. Giggling, she agreed.
She even let me help her squirm into a leather bustier that covered her
torso from her navel to just barely over the top of her nipples.
Opera-length leather gloves, complete with laces, soon ran up her arms to
her shoulders.

"You look like a gorgeous sex kitten," I noted with a smile. "Maybe a
kitten with a whip?"

"What is it with you and this bondage stuff?" Sabrina asked with the
slightest of slurs in her voice.

"Curiosity killed the cat," I replied with a wink.

She giggled again while I unlocked one of the trunks and pulled out a
flogger with long leather strips hanging down from a stout handle.

"Hold this like you mean it," I said, handing it to her. I lowered his
voice into a make-believe villain. "Make me suffer with your gaze."

She burst into laughter and started pretending to be a world-class
dominatrix, snarling and sneering and cracking the whip.

"Hurt me," I cried as I snapped picture after picture. "Make me your
slave. C'mon, show me what you'd like to do to me."

After several poses, I signaled for her to stop.

"I hate to waste the outfit," I said as I reloaded his camera. "Are you
game to keep going?"

"Sh-sh-sure," she replied with yet another giggle.

I returned to the open trunk. "Let's try the other side of the
equation. Put your hands behind your back."

I walked toward Sabrina holding a pair of handcuffs.

--SABRINA-

I swear I was ready for him. When Geoffrey whipped out the whip, I knew
we would revert to his favorite sport: tying me up and pretending it was
all in a day's work. Same old story, same old song and dance, my friend.

Only this time, I was in the mood to play along. I had fun. I was
slightly drunk, too. I wanted a taste of danger, like I did when I was
younger and hitchhiked with my best friend; two schoolgirls, pretty and
insolent and shouting it to the world, more terrified of our parents than
any dastardly fate that might befall us. Nothing bad ever happened, except
the one time when the driver started masturbating as he headed out of town.
We literally jumped out of the car at the first traffic light, and tried to
laugh to forget how scared we had been. We were kids, and danger was fun.

That day, danger was fun, too. Without hesitation, I put my hands
behind my back, and I felt the same thrill as climbing in the car of a
random stranger. When I play with fire, I occasionally forget it can burn.

I felt the cold metal on my wrists at the same time as I heard the
"click" of the lock. He was fast, as always.

Geoffrey took something out of his pocket, brought it up close to my
face, and--yikes! Darkness. Total. Very, very total. I didn't like this
at all, but I bit my lip. This is just a game, I told myself. Let's see
how far you can go.

He led me toward the back of the stage and fumbled with something.
After the noisy photo session, the silence around us was almost surreal. I
felt him attach what sounded like a clip to the chain linking my cuffs.

"I'm tired of these standing shots," he said. "Time for something
different."

His last words echoed in my ears when my arms suddenly shot skyward. To
keep my balance, I had to bend forward. When the pulling stopped, I found
myself in such an awkward position, my insubordinate nature spurted back.

"Hey, not so high. I can't keep my balance. C'mon, bring it down."

"Hold on. Let me deal with that little balance problem," he said as he
walked back to his trunks.

While I was trying to find a more comfortable position--lifting my head,
bending my knees, trying to turn around, none of which really worked--he
grabbed my hips to straighten me up, and asked me to spread my legs.

"Wider. Much wider. There." As he spoke, he clutched my leather-clad
ankles and connected them to something.

When I heard him turn away, I tried to move, but discovered I could no
longer close my legs. Oh, good, he had me grounded, too. I conducted a
rapid survey of my situation, and decided the game was not turning in my
favor. Yet, despite the obvious discomfort, I was still more thrilled than
upset.

Funny what a mixture of wine and adrenaline will do to you. Two days
before, I had kicked up a fuss about being lashed to a tree. And there I
was, doubled over, with my ass not even covered by the almost-nonexistent
skirt. My hands and feet were useless, and I was completely in the dark as
to what was to come.

Then, quite unexpectedly, I burst into laughter.

"Now, this is quite a situation you've put me in, Geoffrey," I managed
to splutter. "And tell me, what do we do now?"

--GEOFFREY-

"I want you to hold this for me. But if you drop it, I'm going to use
it on you. Open your mouth."

Before Sabrina could react, I wedged the handle of the flogger between
her teeth, then stood back to watch as she struggled between the desire to
spit it out, and the consequences if she did.

"A very wise choice," I commented once she calmed down. Not that it
would last. This one seemed to think that fighting me was a winning
strategy. I needed to take advantage of it while I could, capture her
aggression and make it come alive on film.

Several rolls later, I decided she could use some accessories.

"I'm going to give you some more things to hold until I need them."

I placed a leather gag with a thick rubber penis jutting out of the
mouth plate into one of her hands bouncing behind her back. The other soon
received a sizeable plug for her ass.

As I reloaded his camera, I watched her fingers twitch and claw as she
tried to deduce what they were clutching. She looked so marvelous when she
got agitated. But such a pity to lose the eyes. I would definitely take
some pictures without the blindfold. To see and be seen, to scream and be
screened.

I pulled some clamps out of one pocket and fingered them appreciatively.
They were the kind that looked like little presses, the kind used to crush
grapes. A single turn of the screw could create entire new dimensions of
distress.

And if that didn't work, there was always the weights. Eventually, the
whip would be on the floor, then in my hand.

I reached over to one of her breasts that had popped free of the bustier
and positioned the two thin brass bars around her soft, pink nipple.
Holding it steady with one hand, I began twisting the serrated knob with
the other.

--SABRINA-

The regular "click" of the shutter was the only thing that kept me close
to a semblance of reality. Beyond that, nothing made sense.

My attention was centered on my jaws and teeth. "Don't drop the handle"
was the only thing that registered. I had no doubt that the thing in my
mouth was the lower half of some kind of whip, and I wasn't going to let
Geoffrey use it on me. I wasn't sure he would, but I didn't want to learn
otherwise.

My hands, still wrapped in the long leather gloves, had stopped their
futile maneuvers to deduce what they were holding. The phallus-shaped
object had a square base that disqualified all the items I could think of.
And the smooth conical form of the other had me completely confused.
Whatever they were, I knew I should hold onto them for dear life.

The handle seemed increasingly heavy, and I clenched my muscles one more
time to steady my grip. At that moment, I felt him place something hard
and cold on my nipple.

Then it went tight.

I moaned under the sharp pain, but bit harder. Don't drop it, I told
myself. Just don't drop it.

The other nipple.

Oh, Lord. Focus. Bite. Hold it.

When the pain suddenly grew exponentially, and I felt my breasts sag as
if stones were hanging from them, I let out a cry. I took a couple of long
breaths and tried to accommodate the pain. When I came back to my senses,
I realized my mouth was empty. I had also dropped one of the objects in my
hands, but at the time, the fact barely registered.

"Shit." My voice was a coarse whisper. "You're not really going to use
it on me, are you?"

I heard his voice close to my ear.

"Sabrina, it's about time someone whipped that pretty ass of yours."

Before I could utter a word of protest, he filled my mouth again and, in
doing so, gave me the final clue about the cock thing. A gag. Shaped like
a penis. No home should be without one. Nor your friendly neighborhood
lunatic asylum.

He lifted the micro-skirt up my hips to expose my ass. Fear built up.
He wouldn't.

A short whistling sound.

He did.

Hurt. Anger. Shame. I didn't know which was worse. I thrashed in my
bonds, but it only increased the burning sting on my breasts.

"One," he counted.

This was a nightmare. He just couldn't...

"Five."

To hell with humiliation; all I wanted was for him to stop. I was
frenetically jerking my head around, moaning as loud as I could.

"Twelve."

I dropped the other object as the biting straps landed on my right
thigh. The pain was unbearable. My ass, my thighs, my breasts were on
fire, to say nothing of the strain on my neck and shoulders. There didn't
seem to be a single part of my body that didn't ache.

"Twenty-five."

Can't breathe. Stop.

"Thirty-six."

He paused.

I prayed to all deities that he would leave it there. My face was wet
with tears, the blindfold stuck to my swollen eyes. If only he could take
the gag off, I would beg. Anything but the whip. Please.

--GEOFFREY-

"Fifty."

I placed the whip on the floor and bent over to whisper harshly in
Sabrina's ear.

"From now on, you will do exactly as I tell you the second I tell you.
Any hesitation will result in more of the same, only doubled. Do you
understand?"

She nodded her head vigorously.

"I'm going to remove your gag, but you are not to speak unless I ask you
a direct question. In those rare instances, the only words you are
permitted to say are 'yes, please.' Do you understand?"

I reached around her head, unbuckled the strap and pulled the plug out
of her mouth.

"Yes...please," she rasped.

"Would you like some water?"

"Yes, please," she replied, this time with more energy.

I found a bottle of Evian and positioned the opening against her lips,
allowing her to take as much as she wanted.

When she was finished, I began unlocking her cuffed ankles from the
spreader bar, then untied the rope keeping her arms aloft. I had to hold
her steady while she regained her balance.

"You did very well today, Sabrina. And I am confident you'll do even
better tomorrow."

I left her swaying in the center of the room while I procured a few
necessary items from one of my closets.

"But there's going to be a slight change in your accommodations here for
the remainder of your stay."

I placed a posture collar around her neck and buckled it, forcing her
chin upward. A leash dangled down between her still-clamped breasts.

Next, I took the butt plug and ran it back and forth between her legs.
When it was thoroughly lubricated, I pushed it slowly into her anus,
savoring the tight resistance and her plaintive squeaks and squirms. Then
I did likewise with a vibrator, slipping it between the folds of her very
wet sex until nothing remained visible but its control knob, which I
twisted to its slowest setting.

Finally, I wrapped a leather belt around her waist, buckled it, then
padlocked a second strap securely around her crotch.

"This will help prevent any accidents. In that unfortunate event, you
will clean up your mess with your tongue."

Every slaver needs a proper cage, and mine was custom-built to enclose a
kneeling female with handy openings to access her unprotected assets.
Reinforced steel bars and three separate locks on the door, including one
with a combination worthy of a bank vault, ensured it was inescapable
unless I decided otherwise, as its many occupants over the years could
attest, presuming their current owners still allowed them to speak in
public.

I lugged the black mass onto the stage, then used a ladder to thread a
chain through a pulley hanging from the scaffolding. When I was finished,
I picked up the end of her leash and led her to the open door.

"Get down on your knees. Good. Now, move forward. That's it. Bend
your head down."

When Sabrina was all the way inside the structure, I padlocked her
ankles together and did likewise to the door behind her. With a few hearty
tugs on the chain, the cage was soon hanging at eye level.

I wrapped the end of her leash around the bars lining the bottom of the
cell so she couldn't move her head. The weights, still hanging from her
nipples, swung gently beneath her as she struggled in her new position.

"If I hear a single sound...100."

I clicked off the lights and climbed up the stairs to cook myself a
well-deserved celebration feast. But first, I would check the mailbox for
any recent deliveries from Western Union.

--SABRINA-

Abandoned in total silence and darkness, I surrendered to the flood of
confusing emotions. Anger. At myself, for playing a game with someone who
won every time. Fury. At him. For so many reasons, I couldn't think of
one in particular. Incomprehension. What did Geoffrey want? Why was he
doing this to me? Utter distress. For there was nothing I could do but
wait until he chose to free me.

And the waiting would be long and painful. My ass still burned from the
whipping; the slightest touch from my hands, still cuffed behind my back,
was unbearable. The awful plug he had forced into me made it all the more
humiliating. The pinching on my breasts had weakened somewhat; I figured
the blood had been squeezed out of them, but I sighed as I imagined what
was happening to their pretty round shapes.

Trying to find a more comfortable position, I managed to kneel
completely and lay my chest on my knees, which also alleviated the strain
on my neck. However, the weight of my whole body was now centered on my
folded legs, cruelly cut by the bars of my cell.

And there was the constant buzzing in my pussy. I thought I'd be able
to ignore the slow vibrations, but the throbbing between my legs proved
otherwise.

To distract myself, I concentrated on what I would do once I got me out
of the cage. Call the association. No, they wouldn't believe me. Reason
with Geoffrey. Probably pointless. Escape. Barefoot, naked, whatever it
took. Just leave this hellish place.

Soon enough, the insidious humming inside me did its job, and rank
arousal overwhelmed my thoughts. All I could think about was the irksome
intruder, and how I could stop it. Or make it faster. I squeezed my
thighs tighter and moved my hips up and down, but that made things worse.
Increasingly frustrated, I felt like yelling at the top of my lungs, but
sobbed quietly instead.

After a long spell, I calmed down and tried to will myself to sleep.
But even that relief wasn't allowed. At best, I would doze off, only to
wake up shortly later, feeling worse than before.

I began to hallucinate. I thought I heard him come in and check on me
twice. I also dreamed that a black horse was licking my bare ass, cooling
the wounds with its huge tongue. My reality was one of distress and chaos,
and I couldn't even trust the few senses I had left.

Eventually, after what seemed like the longest night in my life--or had
it only been two hours?--the vibrations stopped, and sheer exhaustion let
me sink into merciful oblivion.

(Continued in Association - Day 6)

*** Copyright 2002 by Adrian Hunter and Chelsea Shepard. All rights
reserved. Please do not repost nor repurpose without permission.

*** "Crash Your Party Dress," a collection of our bdsm short stories and
novellas, is now available from Renaissance Ebooks

http://www.renebooks.com

*** AdrianHunter.com Superlative bondage fiction by Adrian Hunter and
Chelsea Shepard

http://www.adrianhunter.com

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