Freeuse: Bondage Window

Freeuse: Bondage Window

Lila takes on a side gig during a slow period.

Author's Note: If you want more background on this alternative reality, you can go back and read "Lila: Freeuse Slave" if you want to, but this story should make sense without it. All you need to know is that in this reality, people can sign up to rent themselves out as short-term sex slaves as a way of making a living. The plot line featuring Emily and the fucking machine comes from "Freeuse: Relationship Building."

Business had been slow for a while. Of course, it had dried up completely during the pandemic lockdown, but it had been brisk afterwards as people caught up on the hedonism that they had had to forego for nearly two years. But now it had slowed again, to a crawl. Sometimes a whole day wouldf go by with no more than one or two clients, and sometimes none.

At our most recent slaves' meeting, we discussed many possible reasons. One obvious reason was the general state of the economy, with less loose money floating around and more people worried about their mortgages than ever before. Another was simple market saturation. Our services are expansive, given that we will do all sorts of things that a run-of-the-mill sex worker would never do. The number of people (usually but not exclusively men) who are willing to pay that kind of money to indulge their tastes in BDSM kink is necessarily limited, and the number of people who could afford to do it repeatedly is even more so.

We figured that the situation would self-correct sooner or later. Women whose hearts weren't really into renting themselves out as BDSM slaves would start drifting off into other lines of work, leaving a reduced number of confirmed pain and bondage sluts competing for the remaining customer base. But in the meantime, although I wasn't having trouble paying my rent, there wasn't nearly as much cash flow as I'd become accustomed to.

I'd even considered reopening the clinical psychology practice I'd been trained for. But I really couldn't face the thought of going back to listening to all those people poor-me-ing about their hangups and wretched lives. I had gotten out of that line of work in favour of freeuse slavery for a very good reason.

A reprieve came in the form of a phone call from Sylvia, one of the supervisors at Consolidated Sex Slaves.

"Lila, hi. How are you doing?"

"Personally, I'm doing fine. Professionally, not so much. I've even been resorting to cold-calling some of my old customers, but most of the time, they just don't have the cash to hire me at the moment. I even checked in with Jason's parents, but they're sticking to their policy of making him save up his own money for my visits, and he hasn't nearly gotten there yet."

"I've got a line on an interesting side gig, if you're interested."

"I'm interested, as long as it has nothing to do with clinical psychology."

"I don't think you'll need to worry about that. How'd you like to be a store window mannikin?"

***

Two days later, I was standing outside the Paradise Adult Emporium inspecting the window display. I was certainly impressed by the selection of high-end sex and bondage equipment on display. The centrepiece was a large stainless-steel X-cross with padded straps at the wrists, elbows, knees and ankles. I could see the faint lines that told me it was jointed and motorized so the occupant could be adjusted into a variety of positions in addition to the classic spread-eagle.

There was also an elaborate fucking machine that I recognized as the same model that I had last sen my friend Emily impaled on when we were hired by Edward, one of my regular customers. "So that's where he got it," I said to myself. The card next to it confirmed that, yes, it had all the capabilities that I had witnessed in Edward's contraption, including the ability to reposition itself any way the user wanted it to. It was self-lubricating and, according to the card, could be equipped with a built-in vibrator and even an electostim system if desired.

Several stands presented an array of other interesting bondage toys, including a locking butt plug, nipple-and-labia clamp sets, and several interesting-looking gags. High-end whips and floggers rounded out the display.

Sylvia had explained the gig in some detail. "The owner, T'Jalla, likes to show off some of her higher-end toys with highly realistic and anatomically correct mannikins. Her problem, as she explained it to me, is that she doesn't seem to be able to find mannikins that are realistic enough to suit her. That's where you come in. You'll be paid a very nice flat rate for three-hour shifts to model the equipment. As a bonus, if one of the window shoppers wants to try out some of the equipment on you in person, he'll have to pay you at your usual Freeuse rate on top of the flat rate."

"That sounds like a great deal to me. When do I start?"

So there it was, checking out my work environment. I opened the door and entered the shop, and boggled slightly at the sight of shelf after shelf of sex toys and bondage equipment. I looked around until I found a woman wearing a name tag that read "T'Jalla," and introduced myself.

"Hi, I'm Lila, your new window mannikin."

T'Jalla smiled broadly and looked me up and down for a few seconds. "Syliva explained to you what you'll be doing here?"

"As I understand it, I hang around in bondage for three hours while people ooh and ahh about how sexy the equipment looks. And sometimes people get to try it out on me in person. Right up my alley."

"You've got the idea. Let's get started." She motioned me over to a door that led us into the display window. She drew a set of curtains to block the view temporarily. "It spoils the effect if people see me setting things up."

"How do you want me? Dressed like this? Sexy underwear? Fetish gear? Or just plain naked?"

"Let's go with just plain naked. That's been one of my problems - all the anatomically-correct mannikins available seem to have absurdly oversized breasts and exaggerated pussies. They end up just looking silly rather than sexy. Just hang your clothes over there—" she indicated a folding chair—"and I'll get them out of the way for you."

I pulled off my blouse, then slipped off my skirt and stepped out of it. When I reached behind my back, unhooked my bra and slipped it off, T'Jalla looked approvingly at my medium-sized breasts with large, full nipples, obviously firm and perky rather than droopy. As usual, I had applied a discreet touch of rouge to my pale areolas to make them a bit more defined and help them stand out better against my light skin. "Now, those are more like it. Perfectly human-sized breasts, not the clown tits that they insist on putting on the mannikins."

Taking off my skirt had exposed the belt and crotch strap that was holding in my vaginal and anal plugs. "You can take the plugs out. I have all kinds of plugs that customers can try out if they decide they want to stopper you up again, and you'll look more appealing without the strap hiding your pussy." I dutifully unfastened the strap and the belt it was attached to, slid out both plugs, and placed them on the seat of the chair. I crossed my arms behind my back, arched my spine to rock my hips forward a bit, and assumed the classic slave-for-inspection pose.

"Very nice." T'Jalla ran her hand approvingly over my cleanly-waxed pussy, parting my labia briefly with a finger. "I have a feeling that you'll bring the customers flocking. I only hope they get tired of looking and feel in the mood for some shopping as well."

"Heels on or off?"

She looked at me wearing nothing but my four-inch black stilettos. "On, I think. The pelvic rock they give you really enhances your rack, and the incongruity of a woman wearing heels while otherwise naked is aways really eye-catching."

She led me over to the steel X-cross. "This is the piece that I've been anxious to show off with a model. Give it a try, face out." I backed up to the cross and spread my arms and legs. T'Jalla cinched the straps around my wrists, elbows, knees and ankles, not bothering with the leather cuffs that were already rivetted around my wrists and ankles. Then she took a gag from a shelf and held it up.

"I know that freeuse slaves always bring your own gags with you, but since the purpose of the whole display is to show off my equipment, I'd like you to wear this." It was a gag much like my own, a wide leather panel gag with a large built-in stuffer ball. The only difference was that this one had a lot of meaningless but very formidable-looking rivets.

I opened my mouth wide and she pushed the stuffer in so it settled behind my teeth and held my tongue down firmly, then bucked ithe strap snugly behind my head. I tried experimentally to say something and produced nothing but a muffled "Mmmpphhh."

"Comfy?" I nodded. "Nothing too tight?" I tested all the cuffs and found that, although they held me inescapably, nothing pinched or impeded circulation. I shook my head.

T'Jalla stood back to admire the effect. "Lovely. I'll leave you to it, then. I won't be far away, and I'll check on you in a little while."

T'Jalla picked up my clothes and plugs, folded up the chair, and opened the curtains as she left.

I stood there, spread widely with my most intimate bits in full view of the public street. I could feel my nipples hardening and my pussy getting moist as I reflected on my situation. I love being helplessly bound and gagged, and I love being naked, but I had never been on display like this before. It was a strange erotic thrill, bringing out an exhibitionist side I never really knew I had.

I tried to do my best impression of a plastic mannikin, looking straight ahead and trying not to blink, and keeping my breathing as shallow and slow as possible so as not to make my breasts rise and fall. Slowly a small crowd gathered in front of the window, appraising T'Jalla's new display and looking closely at me, evidently trying to guess whether I was real or not. I couldn't hear very well through the glass, but some onlookers were having animated discussions about me among themselves.

I waited as long as I could, then gave a sudden wriggle as if I was trying to struggle against my bondage, making my breasts jiggle on my chest. People usually jumped back in surprise when I did that, and a few had really satisfactory reactions. One middle-aged lady looked as though she peed herself when the "mannikin" suddenly moved. The gag helped me suppress my urge to giggle.

This went on for most of the morning. T'Jalla poked her head in from time to time and asked if I was still okay, and I answered with an affirmative "Mmm-hmmm" behind the gag.

The initial thrill of being naked and restrained in public was beginning to wear off, but I was still enjoying the exposure. However, I was beginning to hope that something more interesting would happen soon. Even though the multiple straps supported me so I didn't have to hold up the entire weight of my body, I was still getting a bit stiff and sore, and my hips were beginning to complain about my legs being so far apart. I just thought about the money I was making by doing nothing but stand there, and immediately felt better.

One man seemed especially interested in me and all the rest of the display around me. He was a good-looking man of about forty or so, neatly dressed with an intense but intelligent-looking gaze. He carefully read all the cards that explained the features of the equipment on display, then returned to me and inspected the way the cuffs were holding me in position. When I did my sudden "I'm real" wriggle, he didn't jump. He just got a broad smile on his face and inspected me even more closely.

After he had finished his unusually deep and careful inspection, he entered the shop. I heard him talking to T'Jalla, evidently discussing whether he could have a more personal experience with her display piece. I had left my phone with her, and he evidently had a membership card with Consolidated Sex Slaves because I heard the little "ding" my phone makes when a client swipes their card to transfer payment. The boring afternoon had just gotten more interesting.

The man entered the display window and walked over to me. He looked me up and down and then put his hand gently on the side of my face, partly touching my skin and partly touching the leather of my strict gag. "Ah, that's better. I was getting tired of looking without touching."

He just held my face for a minute or two, as tenderly as a lover, then slid his hand slowly down my neck to my shoulder, caressing my skin as he went. I had to admit that, even though I love bondage, rough sex and pain, it was nice to be treated gently for a change.

The hand continued down my chest and came to rest on my left breast. He squeezed it gently, then rubbed his thumb over my nipple, which instantly went rock hard. While he held my breast with one hand, he slid his other hand slowly down over my chest, belly and finally my pubic mound. Two fingers curled up into my soaking wet pussy, and his thumb landed on my clit and began rubbing gently. The display space filled with the musky aroma of intense arousal as I felt an orgasm slowly gathering in my pelvic region.

"Ah, that's a nice piece of equipment you have there, Babe. I'll do more with it soon enough, But I want to play with some of these nice toys a bit first."

He took his fingers out and stepped aside, and I noticed that the small crowd outside the window had turned into a large crowd. Some passers-by looked in my direction and then walked away with a disgusted expression, but others were evidently enjoying the show.

I was surprised at how this was going. I had expected that T'Jalla would unstrap me from the cross and take me somewhere more private, or at least close the curtains. But ever since the Supreme Court of Canada had struck down almost all laws concerning sex, sex work and public nudity, you could get away with almost anything as long as it was consensual. And anyway, what did people expect when they looked in the window of a place called "Paradise Adult Emporeum?"

The man came back with the nipple and labia set. Each pair of clamps was joined by a light chain, and the two chains were joined by a third to make a sort of "H" shape. The man expertly pinched up my areolas and put the clamps just behind the main part of my nipples. Then he pulled out my outer labia and applied the other set of clamps there. The centre chain was adjustable, and he shortened it until my nipples were being pulled firmly down toward my clamped labia.

The sharp pain went straight to my clit, reigniting my rising orgasm. He tweedled the chain, making my breasts and my pussy jiggle for the crowd's amusement. A few clapped in appreciation. I saw others go over to the door and enter T'Jalla's shop, evidently impressed with the products on display. Good—T'Jalla was getting her money's worth out of me. I just hoped their partners would enjoy whatever they came home with.

After he had played with my clamped body parts for a few minutes, he picked up the remote control that was lying on a display stand beside the X-cross. He held down a button, and the entire cross slowly leaned back until I was at about a forty-five-degree angle. He pushed another button and my knees began to bend and my hips to roll up until my entire pussy and asshole were presented to the onlookers between my bent legs.

He rolled the fucking machine over and positioned it between my spread legs. Damn. I really have no objection to fucking machines—I've had them up me several times before, and they do get the job done. But I really prefer the feel of a flesh-and-blood cock, and the back-and-forth responsiveness you get with sex between two human beings. The mechanical thrusting of a machine is just too relentless for my taste. But when you sign on as a slave, even a temporary rent-a-slave, you give up expecting anyone to ask you what you like.

The client stepped to one side again so the onlookers could get a good view. The massive dildo at the end of the shaft adjusted until it was pointed straight at my asshole. That's good, I thought. I love sex in any hole, but I'm especially fond of anal. My nerve clusters must be in just the right places to take advantage of being fucked in the ass.

The thing hunted up and down for a few seconds, and I knew from having read the card that it was using a low-intensity targeting laser to get lined up perfectly. I lifted my head as far as I could, watching in fascination as drops of lube oozed out of a little hole at the end, shaped just like the peehole on a real cock. The shaft extended until the huge realistically-shaped dildo was pressed against my asshole.

The pressure slowly increased, and I felt my sphincter stretching as it tried to accommodate the monster that was fighting for entrance. The dildo twisted slightly back and forth to encourage my asshole to open up, and I tried to relax my sphincter as much as possible, but it still burst into a burning ring of fire and I grunted with pain behind the gag as the dildo irresistibly forced its way in. But then it stopped with only the tip inside and let me get out in front of the pain, which subsided quickly now that I was stretched as far as I needed to be. T'Jalla had obviously programmed in that little break, which suited me fine.

The dildo started to move again, inserting itself slowly but inexorably deeper and deeper into my anal canal. I knew that the smart machine was pressure sensitive, and that it was feeling for the increase in pressure that would mean it had encountered the first corner as my rectum made its sharp bend into my sigmoid colon. I was assured by the card that it would stop there and pull back a little rather than continuing until it ruptured my colon. Nice touch, I thought.

Sure enough, the dildo stopped as soon as it got to the corner, and pulled back a little. Then it started slowly thrusting, pulling back until it was almost out and then drilling deep, but never farther than the depth it had set for itself. There's something to be said for this smart technology, I thought. I've had human beings try to stuff things way too far up my anus or vagina, and I definitely don't like it. This self-driving dildo was somehow comforting.

The speed slowly picked up, rocking me back and forth on the cross as far as my bonds would allow and making my breasts jiggle once again. The clamps pulled hard on my nipples and labia every time my breasts were rolled up, and sharp stabs of pain added to the growing constellation of sensations in my body.

Then the dildo started to vibrate, adding another layer to the rich medly of sensations. The vibrations ran from my rectum through my entire pelvic region, and my orgasm built higher and higher. I don't usually cum without some kind of direct clitoral sensation, but the vibrations were doing that for me, and I broke into a strangled "NNNGGKK" behind the gag as the intense sensations washed over me.

The machine must have detected my rectal muscles contracting powerfully as the orgasm crashed through me, because the vibration shut off and the thrusting stopped, although it stayed deeply implanted in my rectum. Another brief patter of applause ran through the crowd, and I wondered how many of those machines T'Jalla would sell today.

I had been so preoccupied with what was going on in my ass that I hadn't noticed that the client had taken off his clothes and was now sitting in the folding chair, staring at me intently while he played with his erect cock. I've never quite understood why some men like to use machines to do their fucking for them, and find it riveting to watch them do it, but what do I know? Or care? That was one damn fine orgasm, and that was all I really cared about.