by Nob

Call me sick, call me perverted – call me crazy!  Your opinion means nothing to me.  All I know is that I adore being in bondage – the tighter and more complicated, the better.  I've been this way since I was a little girl.

I count myself incredibly lucky to have found a Mistress who just loves to put me into bondage.  Her name is Dayne Brank and she is fantastic.  She knows more about how to confine and adorn the female body than anyone I’ve ever known, and I've been with more than a few Doms during my 23 years.

Right now, in fact, while I am typing this “confession” (at my Mistress's command, naturally), I am in really serious bondage.  After breakfast this morning, Mistress Brank made me sit in (not on) the U-seat in the study.  It's just a two-inch leather-covered pipe that has been bent in a U and set atop a strong wooden post, so you know it's got to be uncomfortable.  Then she secured me here with straps from my wasp-cinch corselet to the front and back ends of the pipe, which come up to my waist.

In addition (and certainly more exciting for me), she made me bend my legs double and strapped them that way before binding my knees at either side of the supporting post.  This way, even though I can't touch the floor with my feet, I cannot tip over.  The result, of course, is that all of my weight is supported by the narrow pipe between my legs.  Ummfff!  The pressure in my crotch is just ferocious, but I love it!  I can twist my hips just a little bit, and that feels good.

I also like the way she's fixed my arms.  My hands can't be manacled tightly together if I'm to type, but the heavy two-inch chain linking my wrist cuffs keeps them close enough to remind me that they're not free.  And with a short chain from each wrist to the cone-clamp fastened over the tip of the corresponding breast, I have to maintain a steady pull at my nips just to reach the typewriter keys.  Would you believe that I find the tension erotic?  I do!

But I'm not complaining.  Well, actually, there's no way I can complain, what with this hardrubber tongue-clamp filling my mouth.  Its head-straps pull the corners of my mouth back and secure it firmly in place.  All I can do is shake my head now and then, even though it doesn't make the damn thing any more comfortable.  Oh, and with some extra chains connecting my wrists to the front of my U-seat, I can't even reach up to my mouth.  Oh well.

Since this confession is supposed to be about my special addiction, I suppose I should begin at the beginning.  Here goes.  I was just eight when I first discovered how exciting it was to have my hands tied behind me.  An older neighbor boy had talked me into playing Cowboys and Indians with him, and I was the Indian he captured.

I don't think he ever understood why I got so breathless or why I always wriggled so much after he'd tied me up.  But he was willing to play the game with me whenever I begged him to, and pretty soon he had moved on to tying my legs together too, and then tying me to a tree as well.  I didn't know why this made me feel so hot and itchy, but I knew I loved it.

His family had to move away the next year, leaving me heartbroken.  I could work out some auto-bondage by myself, of course, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as being trussed up by someone else.  As a matter of fact, I learned to tie myself up pretty good over the next few years, but I kept wishing I could find someone to do it for me.

My parents – good people but Puritans at heart – would have flipped if they'd known my secret, so I made sure they didn't find out.  Having to take care of my private needs by myself was fairly frustrating, but I was not about to give it up.  Fantasies and tying myself up in my room late at night would have to do.

I finally got my wish when I was a senior in high school.  By then, I'd filled out nicely – some said I had the sexiest figure of all the girls – and had learned that a strap really tight between my legs could excite me and even help me cum while I dreamed of being the prisoner of a handsome prince.  So I designed a pair of leather panties that had such a strap built into the crotch and began wearing it to school.

Wouldn't you know that our girls' gym teacher would find out?  She was a bosomy athletic woman in her 30s, and one day she asked me to come to her office on a Thursday after school.  Innocently, I did as I was told.  She told me to take a seat and then, to my surprise, she closed and locked the door.

Seeing my nervousness, she said calmly, "Don't worry, Brandy.  I've got something I know you will be interested in, and I don't want us to be interrupted."  She reached into her desk and pulled out a magazine.  "Here, look at this."

My God!  On the glossy cover was a gorgeous girl – nude and in chains!  The name of the magazine was Bondage Bulletin and I was so fascinated that I forgot all about Miss Corcoran.  I never knew such publications existed!  My heart started pounding and I had a hard time catching my breath.  She could tell immediately, of course, just how excited I was.

"Go ahead, look through it," she urged softly.  I could only whisper "Oh, wow," and began to turn the pages.  Each one featured another young woman in some sort of complicated restraint, often with a man or woman who had apparently done the restraining.  Sometimes it was a drawing and sometimes a real photograph.  I couldn't decide whether to stay with one page and take in all the details or to go through the entire magazine as fast as I could.  My hands were shaking so much that I had to press the magazine down into my lap.

Finally, however, I had to find out just how Miss Corcoran had learned my secret. "H-how did you know I would like this?" I asked at last.

She smiled proudly.  "I found an interesting pair of leather panties in your locker while you were playing volleyball, dear.  Only a girl who really likes bondage would dream up such a bizarre garment, and so I thought you and I should get together."

I stared at her, open-mouthed.  "Gee, is that what it's called?  I never knew it had a special name."  Then I paid attention to what she had said.  "G-get together?" I stuttered.

"Yes, Brandy, of course.  You see, I like bondage too."  She stood up.  I was trying to understand the implications of her admission and must have looked dazed.

"I like it," she repeated, "and you like it.  We really have a lot in common.  We ought to share our common interest, don't you think?"  I looked up at her and suddenly it all made marvelous sense.  "Yes, oh, yes," I breathed.

Actually, I had supposed at first that Miss Corcoran liked to be tied up too – but I learned better right away.  At her gesture, I got to my feet, and then she motioned for me to turn around so that my back was toward her.  I did so, too amazed to wonder why.  I felt her pull my hands together behind me, but it was only when she ran a leather strap about my wrists that I really understood.

I would like to be tied up – She would like to tie me up!  She was exactly the person I had been waiting for!  Can you guess what I said to her then?

My first word was, "Tighter!"  Then I repeated it more softly: "Tighter, please, Miss Corcoran."  Her low chuckle told me that she appreciated my response, and her expert work on the strap told me that I was right.  She knew what she was doing!  In a moment, my wrists were pinned harshly together behind me, holding my hands palm to palm, and I was delirious with pleasure.  The tension on my shoulders was exquisite!

Miss Corcoran turned me slowly around to face her.  "Oh, you're going to be a treasure, Brandy!" she assured me with a smile.  "I'm going to show you a lot of new things – and I know you'll enjoy them."

"I-I don't know what to say," I murmured.  And then I added, "But I'm grateful.  You don't know how much I've wished for this to happen!"

Her next move excited me even more.  She went behind me and then put her arms around me.  While she bent her head down to kiss my neck, her hands covered my breasts and squeezed gently.  I went rigid with shock – and with pleasure!  My knees went weak.  I might have fallen if she hadn't held me up.

"Ohhhh, ooooh," I moaned while her strong fingers massaged my breasts gently.  Then I added shyly, "I'm sorry I have all these clothes on..."

"There will be other times," she answered confidently.  Then, to my disappointment, she unfastened the strap binding my wrists.  "I think it will be better if you come to my home for our next session.  I have some… ah, equipment there that I think you'll enjoy, and we'll certainly have more privacy."

I shivered happily.  "Oh, yes, Miss Corcoran!  When can I come?"

We arranged for me to visit her place in the country the next Saturday morning.  I would tell my Mom that Miss Corcoran had asked me to help her plan a special event at school.  Then I left her office, giddy with excitement.  Would Saturday never come?

I was excited all day Friday but kept it inside as much as I could.  I don't think anyone else noticed.  My dreams that night were wonderfully sexy, and on Saturday morning I could barely keep my trembling under control.

Since I had no idea what to expect at Miss Corcoran's, I decided that a regular bra and panties would be best.  No need to wear my leather panties if she had something better!  And so, breathing rapidly, I drove to her home and rang her doorbell exactly at 10:00, as we had agreed.

When she opened the door, my mouth fell open.  She was wearing a sleek black leather outfit that accentuated the strong femininity of her figure, including glossy high-heeled boots and elbow-length gloves.  "Ooh, wow," I murmured, "You look marvelous."

"Come in, Brandy," she said warmly.  Hesitantly, I walked into her living room.  Everything seemed entirely normal--overstuffed chairs, a sofa, some end tables, bookcases, exactly what one would expect in a teacher's home.

Then she beckoned for me to follow her.  She led the way to a heavy door set in an interior wall.  She had to unlock it first, and I saw that it was the way down into her basement.  Maybe here I would find whatever it was that would be part of her unusual "hobby."  Oh, baby, I was right!

The basement was the weirdest place I'd ever seen.  One wall was a huge mirror, and there were a few sinister-looking devices against the other walls.  One was a stock, like I'd seen in history books, and another seemed to be a chair where someone could sit while held in heavy iron clamps.  In the center of the room stood a heavy wooden post set with D-rings, and one corner had been walled off as a kind of cell, complete with barred windows.  I looked around me in wonder.

"Yes," Miss Corcoran said in response to my unspoken question, "This is where I have my special activities.  Only a few other people know of this, and they share our, er, interests."  Gosh, there must be other girls like me!

"This is fascinating," I whispered, not knowing what the proper words might be.  "Thank you," she answered.  "I hope you'll let me demonstrate what can be done here."

"Oh, I hope you will," I told her eagerly.  "Please tell me what I should do."  Whatever she had in mind, I was anxious to begin.

She tilted her head and looked at me.  "To begin with, dear, those clothes aren't really appropriate now.  If you'll take them off, I'll give you an outfit that will go with what we'll be doing."  In answer to my unspoken question, she added, "Yes, all your clothes.  You can put them on the rack over there."

I stripped as quickly as I could, starting with my shoes and ending with my panties.  Then I turned around to face her.  She whistled her appreciation.  "For an 18-year old," she told me, "you've got some body!  About 37-21-30, right?"

"Actually," I said shyly, "it's 38-20-30.  You were almost right."

"Good enough," she laughed.  "You're going to be delighted with how you look in your new outfit."  She reached into a drawer and pulled out a tiny wisp of something.  I frowned.  Was this all I would be wearing?  She held it out and I took it.

Aha, it was a corselet of some sort, just something about three inches wide to go around my waist and keep it trim.  I held it up and saw that it was equipped with strong buckles at the front and back, as well as laces in the rear to tighten it.  I pulled about about my waist and asked softly, "Will you lace me up, Miss Corcoran?"  Of course she would!  And by the time she was satisfied, I felt as though my midsection was being almost cut in two.

"Must it be this snug?" I gasped.  "Certainly," she told me.  "One very important thing in bondage is that everything should be tight – and of course we also want to show off your figure at its very best."  As I struggled to take a deep breath, she went on, "You'll get used to it, Brandy.  Just relax and let it hug you."

I was able to obey her after a moment.  Looking down, I was proud to see how my breasts jutted outward and my hips swelled out below the corselet's constrictive embrace.  "It really isn't much of a costume, is it?" I asked.  Miss Corcoran assured me that it would be just right for today.

"Next," she said sternly, "we'll want to put you into real bondage.  If you'll come over here and stand between these pillars, we can get started."

I sucked in as much breath as I could and went to stand where she pointed.  Then she pushed a switch set in one of the pillars and, with a metallic rattle, two cuffs descended on chains from holes about five feet apart in the ceiling.  In a second, Miss Corcoran had fitted my wrists into the cuffs, locked them tight, and pulled the switch again.

Before I knew it, my arms had been pulled high above my head in a stressful vee, leaving me standing almost on tiptoe.  "Oooh, wow," I gasped.

"This way, dear," she explained, "I can work on you without difficulty.  To begin with, I've got a pair of high heels for you."  Indeed, she returned to the drawer where my corselet had been and got a pair of black leather pumps with open toes and really tall, slender heels.  At her direction I held up one foot and then the other so that she could strap them on me.  Happily, the heels' height relieved some of the strain on my arms.

After another trip to the drawer, my new Mistress showed me the hobble I was to wear – a slender chain about 12 inches long with a heavy iron cuff at either end.  The cuffs went about my ankles, naturally, and snapped shut with a sinister click.  They felt comfortable – very snug.  "A girl in bondage must always move with short, respectful steps," she told me.  "This hobble will see that you do."  I said, "Yes, Ma'am, I understand."

Then she came close and said seriously, "I don't know how noisy you may get after this, so I think a gag will be in order.  You don't object, do you?"

Of course I shook my head.  A gag!  I wondered what it would feel like.

In a moment, I found out.  Miss Corcoran brought a complex-looking device that had two hinged rubber-covered plates and a lot of straps dangling from it.  She told me to open my mouth, and in it went!  The plates trapped my tongue from above and below and the straps came out of the corners of my mouth.  Quickly, she tightened some of the straps at the back of my head, and then more that went up over my head and beneath my chin as well.  There was also a soft rubber piece that went over my lips, completely covering my mouth.  By the time she was satisfied, the gag was securely in place, with the straps forcing me to bite down hard on it.

Mfffff!  I was really stifled now, strictly limited to nasal grunts and moans.  Without meaning to, I shook my head in an effort to get the thing seated more comfortably.  It did no good.

"You'll get used to it in a little while," she told me gently.  "Just remember, dear, a slave isn't supposed to speak or make much noise."  I nodded my reluctant agreement.  If a slavegirl is supposed to remain quiet, I guess a gag is the best way to make sure she stays absolutely silent.

Then Miss Corcoran moved behind me and reached around under my raised arms to take my breasts in her hands.  I stiffened with excitement.  As her fingers kneaded and massaged me, I began to shiver.  This was so much better than when she had touched them in her office.

Then she whispered in my ear, "You have such marvelous bosoms, Brandy.  They'll look wonderful in a squeeze-bra.  Here, I'll put one on you."

From somewhere she brought out the garment and held it up for my inspection.  It was nothing like a regular bra.  Instead, its cups were woven of thin, wide-spaced leather cords and each cup was open at the tip.  I wriggled happily as she eased my breasts into the cups and fastened the straps behind my back.  But then she started to tighten the cups somehow, one thong at a time, and soon my breasts were molded into firm cones of flesh with my already-stiffening nipples thrusting out through the open tips.  What a bizarre style of lingerie!

Miss Corcoran's next move shocked (and delighted) me.  She stood in front of me, leaned forward, and took my right nipple in her mouth!  I drew in a deep breath and went rigid with excitement as she sucked and ran her tongue roughly over the tender bud.  With both hands squeezing my breast gently, I could feel the nipple growing thick and stiff.  My drawn-out nasal moan told her how much she was exciting me.

The moan grew louder when she transferred her attention to my other breast.  Ooooh, was I getting worked up!  And when she ran her hands down my sides, stroking my waist and then my thighs, I wanted to explode with pleasure.  I shook my head back and forth in a frenzy of excitement, totally committed to this delicious new kind of activity.

But it was when her hands found my crotch that my moan became a shrill nasal hum.  I rolled my hips as much as I could, and then thrust them forward in brazen request for more.  Her fingers massaged and kneaded my mons, and then invaded my puss.  I spread my thighs as wide as I could, threw my head back, and shuddered with rapture as she skillfully encouraged my arousal.

When she stepped back from me, I moaned my disappointment.  She smiled at me, her eyes wide with her own excitement.  "You respond nicely," she commented.  "But I don't want you to cum too soon, dear.  You'll find that it's a lot more fun if you have to wait awhile."

Shuddering with frustration, I could only stare at her.  She was going to keep me worked up like this?  She returned to the drawer where she had gotten my corselet and bra and brought out a narrow strap, braided of coarse leather thongs and equipped with a D-ring at one end.

"This is a bodystrap, dear.  It will keep you, well, warm while you wear it.  Here, I'll put it on you."  The D-ring end was fastened somehow at the front of my corselet, and then she pulled the other end down and back between my legs.  I jerked when she parted my lovelips to fit it in tightly between them, and again when she spread my buns so that she could work it deep into the cleft between them.  Then she must have run the free end through a buckle at the back of my corselet so she could tighten it.

I could feel the strap begin to cut up into me, digging harder and harder between my labia and pressing against my already-sensitized clit.  It cut harshly in between my asscheeks too, making me clench them fiercely.  When at last she was satisfied, I felt that the strap might split me right up the middle.  The sensation was incredible!

Cautiously, I rolled my hips.  Jesus, did that strap do fantastic things to my privates!  I was tempted to begin a bump-and-grind routine, but figured she might not approve.

A moment later, Miss Corcoran said, "Now that you're so nicely strapped, Brandy, I'll give you a chance to move around and see what it feels like."  I nodded my head eagerly.

And so my wrists were freed from the spreadeagle and quickly locked behind me in a pair of hinged cuffs that held my hands rigidly palm to palm.  I could lace my fingers together but couldn’t my hands independently the way that I could if my wrist cuffs were merely linked by a short chain.

While I stood in a kind of daze, trying to get accustomed to the relentless pressure between my legs, she found a broad leather dog-collar and quickly buckled it about my throat.  Then she snapped a long leash to it, just beneath my chin, and pulled gently at it.

"Now that you're properly leashed, Brandy, we can go for a walk," she said gaily.  "This will give you an idea of how important a bodystrap can be to a girl in bondage."  I shuffled after her, snubbing my shins at first when my hobble limited me to shorter steps than I was used to.  Right away, I could feel the effects of the new accoutrement between my legs.  Every step brought a new series of marvelous pressures down there, and my excitement was soon as intense as it had been earlier.

After I'd been led around the room a couple of time, I began to roll my hips more energetically because this intensified the bodystrap's effects.  I could feel my crotch growing hot and moist.

Concentrating on my puss, I was surprised when Miss Corcoran maneuvered me to stand right above a U-shaped seat of some sort.  It was an aluminum pipe only about three inches wide and I didn't get a look at how it was supported.  "Stay still, now, Brandy," she told me.  I obeyed.  Then she knelt beside me and in a moment I could feel the seat rising, pressing up into my groin.  The ends of the "U" came up to my waist and made it impossible for me to get off it.

She raised the seat a little higher.  I found that a good part of my weight was now supported by the seat--which meant that there was even more pressure between my legs.  I twisted my hips gingerly, managing more by luck than skill to work my bodystrap even more precisely in between my lovelips.  Wow, what a fabulous sensation!

Although the raised front and back of the seat prevented me from getting off it, Miss Corcoran made absolutely sure that I would remain astride it by using a broad leather belt to secure my ankles at either side of its support post.  If I raised myself up to tiptoe, it relieved some of the pressure on my crotch, but there was no way I could escape it entirely.

Miss Corcoran told me, "You can, ah, rest here for a while, dear.  I want to show you some of my other equipment."  Breathing hard with excitement, I nodded.  She went to a large cupboard and opened it.  The first thing she got from it was a bulky item of stiff black leather, which I finally figured out was a helmet.  It looked really sinister.

She held it up.  "This is a discipline helmet, Brandy.  It can be pulled down over your head and then tightened with these laces until it is snug.  And these holes for your eyes and mouth can be zipped shut quite easily in case it is necessary.  The hole at your nose always stays open, for obvious reasons."

I inspected the thing carefully, curious about how it would feel, fitted over my own head.  Yes, I could see that it would fit like a second skin after being tightened.  I must have shown some sign of interest, for she asked me, "Would you like to try it on now?"

Even before I could nod my agreement, she was preparing it for use.  First, however, my collar had to be removed and my gag had to come out.  She undid the straps and pulled the cruel device from between my jaws, giving me a chance to wet my lips with my tongue.  Expecting that this was only temporary, I decided it would be better not to say anything.  She noticed my clenched jaws and nodded her approval.

Then she began to pull the helmet down over my heard.  Goodness, it was tight now.  She worked it around so that the holes matched my eyes and nose, and then began to tighten it under my chin.  The lower part of the helmet served as a kind of collar that she drew snug about my neck before buckling it.  Later I could feel her using the laces across the back of my head to intensify the helmet's grip.  By the time she was finished, I felt as though my head was being squeezed inside a giant vise.

And then, of course, she zipped the eye-holes shut.  What a feeling!  Being in such rigorous bondage and totally blinded at the same time made my sense of imprisonment much more complete.  Feeling her fingers reaching in through the helmet's open mouth-hole, I parted my jaws and felt her insert another gag, as I had expected.  This one filled my mouth with a soft bag of something that made it impossible for me to breathe through my mouth or move my tongue.  As soon as it was in, she zipped the mouth-hole shut so that there was no way I could spit it out.  Even though I could still hear what was going on around me, being both blinded and gagged seemed to raise my sense of helplessness to another level entirely, forcing me to admit my absolute vulnerability.  It also increased my physical arousal fantastically.

No wonder that I jerked when I felt her hands at my breasts once more.  Because I could not see what she was doing, her touch was more arousing than ever.  My erotic hum of pleasure encouraged her, and I threw my head back and forth in response to her skillful massage.

Soon I began to buck back and forth against the U-seat's grip, making my bodystrap grind me between my legs and thus heightening my excitement even more.  Miss Corcoran's lips again took my stiffened nipples and I hummed more loudly.  If she wasn't careful, I would cum any moment now!  I was really too worked up to care about what she wanted, hungering only for some way to urge myself over the edge and into an explosion of sexual fulfillment.  Well, I almost made it.

She gave each nipple a final suctioning kiss and then pulled away.  An intense frustration hit me then, making me shake and quiver with the sharply frustrated carnal need that she had so artfully stimulated.  Amidst the flood of disappointment, I wondered if bondage was what I wanted after all.

But then I felt her hands at my ankles, freeing them, and my thoughts shifted immediately to the prospect of new erotic adventures.  The state of physical excitement can be marvelous in itself, I had to admit, even when its crowning climax remained beyond reach, and I told myself firmly that I could happily tolerate any amount of frustration so long as I was kept in rigorous restraint.

Freed of the U-seat and moving blindly in response to the pull on my leash, I went a few feet and then halted at Miss Corcoran's command.  "Stop here, girl," she told me, and then added, "I want you down on your knees now."

Downward tension on my leash made it clear that she was serious, and I dropped very carefully to a kneeling position.  The thick pile of a rug protected my knees and I was grateful for that.

"Keep your body erect now and go forward two steps on your knees," I was told.  Curious and excited, I obeyed.  Her hand on my shoulders made me lean forward just a bit.  Then I felt something hard at the front and sides of my throat.  A moment later, something else had been closed across the back of my neck and locked, and I was held motionless in this pose with my head erect.  There was no way I could sit back down on my haunches, or move in any direction.  I had seen pictures of "horizontal stocks" and figured that this must be what was holding my neck.  I was utterly trapped by the device and could only await my tormentor's next move.

To my surprise, Miss Corcoran's next move was to open my helmet's mouth-hole.  At her command I opened wide and allowed her to pull the gag out from between my jaws.  I licked my lips and then said softly, "Thank you, Miss Corcoran.  It feels good to be able to talk again."

But the eye-holes remained closed, and my wrists were still manacled behind me.  I had no idea of the size or shape of the stock in which my neck was imprisoned.  It must have been fairly large, though, for I could hear Miss Corcoran bring a stool over next to me and then heard her climb up onto the device.  A moment later, I was shocked to feel her thighs at either side of my head – and to smell the aphrodisiac odor of her puss!

She wriggled a bit, moving closer to my face.  I could feel the crisp-curled hair of her muff against my lips and knew that I was expected to do something in response.

"Stick your tongue out, Brandy," she told me, her voice low and tense.  "I want you to lick me as hard as you can."

My God!  She wanted me to eat her out!  I'd never done anything like that, or barely even heard of it, so I wasn't sure just how I should go about it.  But I had no alternative.  Feeling a little foolish, I stuck my tongue out as far as I could, forcing it through the tangle of pussy-hair until it touched what must be her lovelips.  I kept my tongue stiff and poked around until I found the opening to her vagina.  I could hear her gasp and felt her thighs squeeze my head between them.

Encouraged by her response, I continued my exploration of her musky womanhood, moving my tongue back and forth, up and down, around and around.  The lovely aroma of her body began to make me feel lightheaded as I kept on trying to please her.  She put her hands at the back of my head as though to pull me deeper into her crotch, grunting and breathing hard.

Then my busy tongue found something round and hard – her clit – and I knew I was doing the right thing.  Stabbing at her pleasure-button with my tongue, working to get deeper into her puss, lashing at her lovelips, I could feel my own clit thickening with excitement as I used my tongue more and more effectively.  Miss Corcoran's hips shuddered under my assault, inspiring me to still greater energy, and then I found that I could use suction as another weapon in my work.  She gave a deep moan and clamped my head even more firmly between her legs.

By now I was gasping myself, finding it hard to breathe in such close quarters, but it was clear to me that this was exactly what my new mistress wanted.  A few moments later, I heard her cry out with delight as she pressed her crotch even more deeply into my face.  She had reached an explosive climax and was now quivering and shaking with the ultimate in physical ecstasy.  I halted my mouthwork and sucked in a breath of air, exhausted but proud of what I had accomplished.  Miss Corcoran's sigh of happiness I took as a compliment.

Later, she moved away from my helmeted head and sighed, "That was just wonderful, Brandy.  Thank you, thank you!"  Then I felt a towel at my mouth, wiping it dry.  I stammered, "I hope I did it right, Miss Corcoran.  I want so much to make you happy!"

"And you did, dear, you did," she told me.  "You're such a sweetie.  I'm going to teach you everything about bondage as a reward for all your hard work."  She paused and then asked, "Won't that be fun?"

I agreed fervently.  "I will like that, Miss Corcoran.  Can we begin now?  Tell me what to do."

She answered, "Oh, it will take months and months, Brandy – every Saturday at least, and maybe Sundays as well.  And we've got the rest of today ahead of us, too.  Here, I'll open the neck-stock and we'll see what we can do next."

A moment later I was free from the neck-stock and urged by my leash to get up on my feet again.  Still hobbled, manacled, and blinded, I could only wait for further instructions.

"One thing I want to teach you now, Brandy, is what it feels like to have your arms and legs doubled.  Shortgloves for your arms, thigh-sheathes for your legs, and you'll find out just how helpless a girl can actually be."

"Yes, Miss Corcoran," I replied, "that should be very interesting."

She led me a few steps back from the neck-stock and told me to lie down on the floor.  I obeyed carefully, finally stretching out on my back despite the fact that I had to lie on my back-bound arms.  Leaving my helmet in place, she unlocked my ankle cuffs.  "I'm going to put the sheathes on you first," she told me, "so you must bend each knee as sharply as you can."

I obeyed her, and then stiffened as I felt what seemed to be a tube of leather being pulled down over my left knee.  Miss Corcoran pulled it down until its lower rim was pressing into my crotch, and then began to lace it up.  The constriction increased with every yank at the laces until my calf was squeezed harshly against the back of my thigh and my heel was digging into my asscheek.  There was no way in the world I could overcome its unrelenting grip.

After the same operation was performed on my right leg, I moaned at not only the cruel pressures but at how helpless the sheathes made me feel.  Miss Corcoran patted my knees to make me aware that they were padded.  "You'll have to crawl now, Brandy, but your knees will be protected."

Her next command was that I should get up on my knees.  Struggle as I could, though, I could not obey her.  "I'm sorry, Miss Corcoran, I just can't do it when I'm fixed like this!"  I heard her snort with impatience.

Finally, she had to grab me under my shoulders and haul me up to a kneeling position.  She shoved my knees apart to help me keep my balance and then unlocked the cuffs on my wrists.  Soon I felt her bend my right arm double, and then another tube of leather was pulled up over my elbow until its upper edge was pressing up into my armpit.  Next, she was laced it to terrific tightness, jamming my forearm up against my biceps and holding my hand firmly against my shoulder.  So this was a "shortglove"!  I could appreciate its name right away.

As soon as my left arm had undergone the same treatment, I felt ever so much more helpless than before.  And after Miss Corcoran had pulled a fingerless mitt down over each hand and used it to squeeze it into a fist, my sense of powerlessness was even stronger.  "I don't think there is any way I can do anything now, Miss Corcoran," I told her.

"Oh, yes you can," she assured me.  Her strong hands at my shoulders made me lean forward.  "Put your elbows down on the rug," she said.  Trying to lean down until my elbows touched the rug was difficult – and seemed to tighten my bodystrap even more – but finally, I was almost in a crawling position.  "Now get up on your knees, Brandy, and try crawling."

After some clumsy maneuvering, I was able to do as she said, and found myself on my knees and elbows with my fanny a bit higher than my head.  Since both my arms and legs were only half their normal length, and stiff as well, my attempt to crawl was necessarily awkward and clumsy.  It took me a while to figure out that I had to move one elbow forward at first, then the other elbow, and then move one knee and then the other.

But I had no idea of where I was going or of what I might bump into, so I didn't mind having to move so slowly.

TO BE CONTINUED (by someone else?)