by Master H

Miriam laid on the bed. Her arms were pinioned behind her by nylon straps that held them tightly to her body. Straps at her elbows and wrists kept her arms pulled tightly back and rigid. A heavy leather single glove rendered her hands useless.

Her legs were virtually welded into one by nylon straps at her ankles, knees and thighs. Her discomfort was heightened by having her legs folded up and strapped tightly. Her heels almost touched her buttocks. Her big toes were bound and pulled back to attach to the strap at her knees.

The ball gag held in place by a leather harness kept her quiet. A blindfold kept her in the dark. Under her, leather straps wrapped around her breasts, which were crushed by her weight. She was forced to hold her head up by a nose hook that was tied off to one of her chest straps.

Two vibrators, one an anal plug and the other a dildo, worked their magic inside of her. A crotch strap, pulled so tight that she felt like it was splitting her in two, held the two vibrators in place.

Miriam was fast approaching orgasm. Her tormentor had prolonged her bondage session by setting the vibrators on low. Still the constant stimulation was doing its job. Her orgasm would have been missed by an observer. So tightly bound was her body that there was no movement. The gag efficiently silenced any moan.

After her orgasm, she waited in silence and darkness until she felt the straps being released. Then she fell asleep exhausted. In the morning, she would pick up the straps and put them away.

Each night, Miriam had relived her last bondage session before her husband and master had died in a car crash 10 years ago. They had been in their 30's. She never remarried. She had left all the markings of his ownership of her in place. Each nipple still was pierced by a ring with a tag bearing his initials, 'JC'. Her right hip still had the tattoo proclaiming that she was the property of 'JC'.† Two wedding rings entwined hung from a† gold chain around her neck. Few people realized that the chain had no clasp and she had had the two ends were welded together.

Midnight, 1 June, Nurse McGregor is at her station at the Ridgehigh Nursing Home. She is about to make her rounds when she is confronted by a tall man who she pegs for being in his 30's.

"Sir, visiting hours are long over," she says. "You'll have to come back in the morning."

The man looks down at her. "I have come for Miriam Caster," he says.

Curious, the nurse looks the visitor over. "Are you a relative of Miriam's?" Miriam, MacGregor thinks , has no relatives. MacGregor remembers the day they brought Miriam here 10 years ago. The crash that killed her husband had caused her to have a paralyzing stroke six months later. Every night that she worked, MacGregor had bathed the helpless woman. The nipple rings with their tags, the tattoo, even the chain holding the entwined wedding rings, MacGregor had admired them all.

Looking back, the man says, "I'm her husband and master."

Miriam feels the straps being undone from her legs. She feels the vibrators go silent inside of her. She feels steel shackles being locked onto her ankles. A quick stretch tells her that her legs have 18 inches of freedom. Strong hands lift her to her feet. Her nose hook is adjusted so she can look straight ahead. A two-prong leash is attached to her nipple rings. The blindfold is removed and she sees her husband smiling at her. "It is time to go home, Miriam," her husband says.

"Yes Master," she says behind her gag.

Nurse MacGregor is still standing at the station when the man returns leading the bound and gagged woman. He stops in front of her. Behind him a, healthy, tanned, younger Miriam, looks directly at the nurse and winks. MacGregor sees the flash of metal tags hanging from her nipple rings. "We'll be checking out now," the man says. He turns toward the exit. The woman shuffles obediently behind him. Her shackle chain rattles on the tiled floor. As the woman passes, MacGregor sees the all too familiar tattoo.

Shaking her head as if waking from a dream, MacGregor rushes into Miriam's room. It is empty. She runs to the front door. In the portico, the man is picking up Miriam and gently placing her in the trunk of a car. He sits down in the driverís seat. MacGregor stands staring as the car starts and smoothly accelerates into the fog.