Anthony could only marvel at the spectacle before him. Sophie was so much more ruthless on herself than he could ever be, he mused.
There must have been almost half a dozen locks on her body.
Her painted lips were spread around a 2.5-inch ring gag, the tight, wide strap at the corners of her mouth ensuring that she must keep it all the way open, not even granted the mercy of being able to flip the ring the tiniest bit. At the back of her head, a gleaming lock held the strap tightly closed.
A steel collar with a D-ring in the front encircled her neck, perfectly built to her measurements. That, too, was locked in the back.
A weighted, custom-made alligator clamp dangled from each nipple, swaying wildly with the tiniest of movements and tugging her nipples every which way. The clamps had tiny keyholes beneath the springs - there was no unclamping them without unlocking them first, although tension could be adjusted slightly via the knobs at the side.
A red leather, steel-boned corset encircled her waist, cinched tightly enough to draw her natural waist a few inches in as always. Except it wasn't -just- her usual corset. There were no hooks and eyes down the front - rather, the only way to put it on was to step into it and lace it up while on the body. Once it had been appropriately cinched, the laces were tied off into a miniature locking contraption, opened via key.
Her delicate feet were, of course, locked into 6-inch, strappy red heels. The cruel arch forced all her weight onto the balls of her feet, straining her calf and thigh muscles.
And she had given him the keys to all of that.
She was standing by the door of her mansion, her hands held up behind her head as instructed. He ran his hands all over her face and body - the lines of her chin, forced into an unnatural position by the enormous ring gag; the lustrous red hair tumbling across her back and over the locks. The plump breasts spilling over the top of her underbust corset, nipples in the grip of tight clamps. The smooth lines of the steel-boned leather encircling her waist, holding it in and forcing her to maintain a perfectly upright posture. Her delectable derriere, clenched with the effort of standing upright in the punishing heels.
He kissed the corner of her mouth as she moaned. "Are you sure you want to do this, Sophie? Once we mail those keys off, they're not coming back for a fortnight"
"Ngghh," was the only reply she could formulate. His leg, pressed against her thigh, felt her juices dripping onto it.
He stepped back, studying her. "Go and put on a figure-hugging dress. And a scarf. You may hide your collar and your gag with it."
"Ngghhh?" She eyed him questioningly, not comprehending. He laughed.
"We're going to the post office together, Sophie. If you're truly ready for two weeks of being my helpless, voiceless, sex object - with no rights to your own comfort, pleasure, and opinion - you're going to start by obeying my orders."
Her ever-expressive eyes narrowed - but, to her credit, she did obey.
She returned in a turtleneck sweater dress, the clingy material hiding nothing of her swollen nipples or corseted waist or full ass. She had tucked the weights of the clamps into the top of her corset, but he did not mind - the lines of the weights would have distracted from her figure anyway. The scarf hid her mouth and the rest of the visible locks - except for the ones on her high heels. Those remained on proud display, advertising her status to the world.
He made her kneel before him with her hands behind her head again, and read the rules of their vacation to her.
The keys would be sent off via tracked post, to arrive at their holiday destination 14 days later. She had obtained all the bondage items from a specialty merchant, who also acted as their failsafe - he was on call any time and could free her if needed, but it would cost her $50,000. They both hoped it would not be needed, but they both also knew that if Anthony could release her on a whim, he would be doing so as soon as she started crying.
Every morning, after she had attended to her bathroom routine, she was to insert a remote-controlled electroplay buttplug into her, of the size scheduled for the day, increasing gradually. She was then to apply her sluttiest, most over-the-top makeup, to give her nails a fresh coat of red paint, and to do her hair in perfect ringlets down her back. She would tighten her alligator clamps to their tightest setting after having left them loose at night, and fix breakfast for him, serving it at the table.
She would then strap herself into position on his chair at the breakfast table, with her head secured at crotch level. She would put her blindfold on, slip her wrists into the restraints under the table, thus forcing her to bend forward in a kneeling strappado position, and wait for him, for as long as it took for him to arrive. She was not allowed to bring him to orgasm before he was done with breakfast.
He would feed her her liquid sustenance via a funnel gag when he deemed appropriate.
She was to be bound at all times when freedom of movement was not required to complete a particular task. Even, and perhaps especially, at night when they went to bed.
She would, of course, not be allowed a single orgasm during that entire time. He would not even touch her pussy, to prevent any "accidents" from happening. If she had pleased him sufficiently throughout, she might be allowed one at the end. Maybe.
When he was done reading, he folded the paper, which had been signed by Sophie, and slipped it into the front pocket of his shirt. Eyes gleaming, he stepped closer to her, bending over her and tilting her chin to make sure that she was looking right at him.
"Last chance, Sophie. One grunt for "yes", three grunts for your safeword."
Their eyes locked, and she uttered one, clear, grunt. She would have smiled if her gag had allowed; her face was radiant. Anthony could feel her excitement; he was sure that she could feel his.
He cupped her cheeks with his hands. "On your feet, my beautiful slut. We're going to the post office."
It was freezing outside, and there was ice on the driveway. He carried her to the car, so that she would not slip in her extreme heels. It did not matter - it would be warm where they were going.
***
It seemed like hours before Tony arrived at the breakfast table, although in reality (and he had timed it), it was only 30 minutes. Her nipples felt like they were on fire, and every movement sent the weights into motion, leaving them tugging painfully on her swollen nubs until they fell still again. Her knees hurt from kneeling on the hardwood floor. Her ass muscles clenched against the unaccustomed intruder within them.
Finally, he sat down, mercilessly pushing his already-raging erection all the way through her ring gag until he hit the back of her throat. "Remember, you'll have the shocks on until I'm done with breakfast if I cum before that," was all he said in response to her gagging.
She tried. The restraints allowed her head an inch or so of movement, but she held as still as she possibly could, praying and hoping that the hard shaft within her throat would subside and allow her some respite. Occasionally it would indeed subside, as he turned his focus to the food, but how could a man focus on scrambled eggs with this beauty by his feet? The mere sight of her strapped to his crotch, her painted red lips almost touching his balls, the tightly-cinched corset giving the illusion that she was all boobs - he had to get hard all over again. The whimpers and gagging only intensified that.
