Housebound

Note: this is a bit of a divergence from the previous chapters, focusing more on Katie's humilation than force and mechanical torment. There's still plenty of bondage, struggle and desperation, though, so I hope you'll stick with me. Next chapter it's back to the usual robo-fuckery. --DT

He made them listen.

Katie spent some time squirming on her kneeling pad, next to Emma, both of them dolled up in their degrading, breast-baring fetish maid outfits; she tried to keep her mind on their next step for escape, but the weird static-charge sensation pulsing from her chastity belt kept distracting her. Before she could come up with anything but stupid ideas, James was climbing the stairs back into the mirrored room with them.

"Much better," he said. "I suppose eventually they'll figure out that if they can both manage to come at the same time, the machine will stop... although, frankly, it may be a while. Jen and Amber aren't the brightest binary star in our little constellation." He winked at them. Katie felt sick. "But in case they surprise me, why don't we have a little audio accompaniment?"

He pulled a small silver remote from his pocket and touched a button. Built-in speakers that seemed to be installed throughout the house came to life, and Katie and Emma were treated to a surround-sound feature of mechanical thrumming, rhythmic slippery penetration, and one of their fellow captives whimpering "please please please--"

"What are you doing to them?" Katie snapped, before she could stop herself.

He raised an eyebrow. "Just a two-for-one fitting, Katie. You're familiar with the process. Does your lack of proper address mean that Emma failed to teach you what I requested?"

"I told her, Sir!" Emma blurted out. Katie rolled her eyes.

"Yes, she told me. You can dress me up and handcuff me, but that doesn't mean you can make me play the part."

"No, it doesn't," he agreed. "But I can try to persuade you. Emma..." He tapped his foot. "Come here and present yourself."

Emma cast an anguished glance at Katie, then crawled off the pad on her hands and knees. She moved over to him and turned around, pressing her face to the floor, but arching her back to put her pert ass high in the air, knees spread apart.

With an ominous zipping sound, he unbuckled and pulled off his belt.

"Clearly, Katie, you're the kind of selfish little slut who doesn't mind a good fuck... and whose memory doesn't retain a corrective shock very long," he said. "But misbehavior always has consequences, even if not for you." He sat down cross-legged next to Emma and pulled her across his lap. The blonde girl was breathing quickly, but her face was hidden in the carpet.

"Don't," said Katie quickly, "stop it, you don't have to punish her. Sir."

"Getting better," he mused, "but mere correction does not suffice in this case." He doubled the belt in his hand and brought it swinging down with a sharp crack, just at the top of Emma's thighs. She let out a quickly-muffled squeak in his lap, but didn't move.

"What do you want?" Katie said angrily. "I'm sorry! Sir, Master, James, whatever you want me to call you!"

CRACK. The belt came down again, a little higher. The straight line from the first blow was already beginning to turn pink. "Think harder, Katie." CRACK. The belt came down a third time, straight across her firm white cheeks. Emma's fingers were digging into the carpet.

"I don't know!" Katie said. In the background, the sound of the machines fucking the other girls had just picked up in tempo, and their surprised squeals echoed through the halls. Katie was still sitting on the charging pad, sending tingles through the cup sealed against her pussy; the sound, the feeling and the sight of Emma being punished were doing... things... to her that she was desperately trying not to think about.

CRACK. He caught her eyes and held them as he worked the belt over Emma's trembling ass, unhurried and unerring. CRACK. "Perhaps," he said, as if daydreaming, "you could offer to make it up to me?" CRACK. "Or to her."

Emma was clearly trying to keep quiet, but she was making little whining sounds that grew louder as he continued to spank her, like a punished puppy. Katie glared at him with intense hatred. "Please," she forced herself to say, "let me do whatever is necessary to correct for the error of my ways, James."

"Hmm." He paused, set the belt down, and began rubbing Emma's bright pink buttocks with his hand, soothing her. "I suppose that will be acceptable. I think I have just the thing. Emma, good girl. Turn over."

The slender ice-blonde girl squirmed in his lap, rolling over to arch her back over his knees, looking up at him with a strange mix of fear, hurt and anticipation in her eyes. He smiled at her and reached down to tug her tiny skirt, exposing the flat black surface of her chastity belt. He set one hand down on it, and Emma inhaled sharply, closing her eyes and biting her lip.

As Katie watched, she arched a little up off his lap, moving her hips against his hand; she couldn't quite hear it above the chorus of pants and squeals still being piped through the speakers, but she was sure he was using some kind of built-in vibrators to stimulate her. With his left hand, he brushed his fingers back and forth across her small, firm breasts, tweaking her nipples like a skilled musician idly tuning an instrument.

Katie could feel a slow heat building under her own chastity belt, but of course she felt only the faint, continuous tease of the charger. She was annoyed to find herself irrationally jealous of the other girl.

"Well?" she said finally (Emma started at the sound, eyes opening, and blushed with embarrassment). "How am I supposed to do... whatever? Sir."

"I would have thought that you'd rather take a moment to watch your friend enjoy her reward than rush off to your next task in this house," he said, eyes glinting, lightly shoving Emma off his lap. "Emma, Katie must be starving. Why don't you make her some breakfast?"

Emma scrambled up, still not looking Katie in the eye, and trotted off down the hall in her stripper heels. James stood, adjusting his erection through his pants without a trace of shame, and came to stand over Katie.

He dangled his belt from one hand, and his pants didn't sag without it, she noticed. He must have had them tailored. She locked eyes with him, not looking at the belt, and the strange combination of defiance and arousal and jealousy swirling inside her made her pulse pound.

"Remember our little chat last night?" he asked. "I wonder if you've figured out who sold you to me."

"I don't believe anyone did," she said. "Sir. I think you're just trying to get under my skin, and you'll have to try harder than that." Her brave face was subverted a bit as her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

"Hungry?" James murmured. "I can help with that."

"If you try to feed me any part of your body," Katie said, "I'll bite it off. Master."

"God, you're fun," he grinned. "No, I promise, I won't be fucking your mouth until you beg for it--and you are going to beg, eventually." Katie's nostrils flared with hatred, but she didn't rise to his bait. "You will be getting protein for breakfast until you earn the use of your hands, though. Come along."

He reached down and clipped the buckle of his belt to one of the rings on her collar, then turned and tugged lightly. It made a very short leash. Katie stumbled to her feet, wishing more than anything that her hands weren't bound behind her, and trotted behind him as he followed Emma.

The sounds of the other girls panting and squealing in the basement continued as they went. Katie thought one of them was about to come.

Down the hall the house opened up into a large, beautifully appointed kitchen; the hope of finding a weapon here surged inside Katie for a moment, until she noticed that all the drawers had discreet little locks on them. Emma had just finished mixing some kind of milkshake and was pouring it into a tall plastic cup.

Katie could smell bacon lingering in the air; she glanced at Emma, who met her eyes and looked a trifle more embarrassed than she was already. So that's how it works, Katie thought: she fucks him, she gets a decent breakfast. I fight back, so I don't. Her stomach tightened at the thought of any kind of food, though, and she didn't make a fuss when James tugged her down onto her knees again in the middle of the stone-flagged floor.

Emma clicked carefully over to her. "Um, are you going to undo her hands, or..." she faltered, staring at James.

"Go ahead," he said. "Katie, you don't mind if Emma feeds you, right?"

"Actually," Katie began, but found the cup being tipped against her lips before she could finish.

It was a cheap protein shake, with a gritty texture and a whiff of fake strawberries, but she drank as fast as she could anyway. She hadn't realized how hungry she'd been. The thought of some kind of drug in the drink flitted across her mind, but she ignored it. What could it possibly do to make her situation any worse?

Emma was careful and attentive. Kneeling in front of her, swallowing as fast as she could, renewed the weirdly erotic feelings that Katie had found in herself a few minutes before. She was crouching here totally helpless and exposed, relying on the other girl for the most basic necessities, the two of them acting out a strange little play under James's watchful gaze...

When the vibrators in Katie's chastity belt clicked on to a slow, gentle buzz, she was almost grateful.

The cup jerked a little against her mouth and Emma's eyes glazed slightly: she wasn't the only one being rewarded for playing her part. Katie wanted instinctively to jerk her hips, wriggle, try to get the invasive toys away from her pussy, but she knew that the damnable little thing wasn't going anywhere.

She wasn't going to admit that she wanted to buck her hips for other reasons too.

The cup was nearly empty; Emma pulled it away and spilled a couple of cold drops. Katie glanced down to see her chest rising and falling, the pink liquid dribbling between her small, pert breasts. She felt James run his fingers up the back of her head, tangling them in her hair, but for some reason she was too distracted to spit any nasty barbs at him.

"Clean her up, Emma," he said softly.

Emma bent her head, and Katie watched straight, pale blonde hair spill over her collarbone as the other girl pressed mouth to skin. The vibrator clicked up another notch. Katie became aware that she was breathing a little quicker than she wanted, with her mouth slightly open.

She also became aware that Emma's lips were very soft.

Then they were pulling away. "That wasn't so bad, was it, Katie?" James murmured in her ear, still holding her head gently but firmly.

"Fuck you," she muttered, because it was the only thing that came to mind.

"That wasn't an answer," he said coldly, and began to push down, one knee pressing on the back of her ankle to keep her legs from moving. Without her hands, Katie could do nothing to push herself back up, and he simply had better leverage than she did. In a moment, though trembling with effort, she found her face being pressed to the cold stone floor.

"Want to try that again?" he said.

"Did I stutter?" she growled, and felt a knee shoved between her legs. The weight of her body was transferred partly from her shins to the cup against her pussy, and the sudden jump in intensity as the vibrators pressed into her made her gasp.

"I enjoy the way you seem to deploy clichés when you can't think of any other retort, Katie," he chuckled. "It lets me know when I'm getting to you." He pulled back on her hair, then down; the pain made her eyes water as he made her arch her back, still pressed down against his knee as he rocked her back and forth. Katie's hands clenched behind her, grasping for his balls, his shirt,

something,

but the way he had her bent made it useless.

"Maybe that's because you are a cliché, you boring psycho creep," she managed.

"Better!" he said. "But you're a bit trite yourself." He pulled down even harder, grinding her against his knee; the stubby vibrator inside her clicked up to a new speed, and Katie couldn't contain the tiny whine creeping out of her throat. "Spitting fire, squirming, all the while desperately hoping I'll just break you and fuck you like the dripping little slut you are... Or am I mistaken in remembering that you came twenty-one times for me last night?"

Katie caught a glimpse of Emma's frozen face as she stood there, watching, and realized that there was a flash of jealousy in the other girl's eyes. It gave her a dirty little feeling of triumph; how nice not to be the one feeling that for once.

Of course, she had nothing to say in reply to him, and she could feel the twenty-second orgasm building in the depths of her belly.

"Good girl," he breathed in her ear, rocking her helpless, arched body against his knee. "You'd like to come this way, wouldn't you? It would be such a pleasant change from the things that machine did to you... just to clench and squeal in my grip, being watched and held, every eye on your perfect little body..."

Katie wanted to grit her teeth and scream, but she couldn't get her mouth to close. Fuck. Her clit throbbed against the little bead vibrator, tension building in her aching back. She was going to come, she was going to come, she was going to--

He stopped. Of course he did.

Releasing her, he shoved her down onto her face on the floor. Katie could do nothing but lie there for a second, panting, annoyed at the quiescent toys and at herself for letting him get to her that way again. She wasn't about to admit it, but she was completely powerless to resist his control over her cunt.

"Good girls don't get to come until they do their chores," he said lightly, standing and brushing off his knee. "Emma, there's a bucket of cleaning supplies under the sink. Fetch it. There's a reason I picked the maid outfits for today, after all."

He jerked up on Katie's belt-leash, dragging her to her feet, and the three of them descended the stairs to the basement. Katie trembled a bit when she saw the concrete hallway lined with steel doors again; the memory of being locked behind one of them, getting "fitted" by a relentless machine, was still very fresh in her mind.

She barely even thought about the two girls who must be locked behind another one of the doors. She couldn't help them until she figured out a way to help herself.

Katie didn't say a word as he pushed open the heavy door and pulled her inside. The machine was still there, exactly as she remembered it, a hideous contraption of steel, leather and rubber that had held her trembling and desperate until she passed out from sensory overload the night before. The black rubber rod, the freezing nozzle, the electrical contact pad and the huge, conical blue monster dildo still glistened wetly. Her gray panties and pajama top were lying on the floor, and the room smelled distinctly of sex.

Emma was staring at it with a stunned expression; glancing over her shoulder, Katie could see terror, curiousity and something else all flit across her face.

"Now, there's only one of these," said James, taking the bucket and starting to fill it at a hose faucet set low in the wall. "Emma will need it to wash the car she got all sweaty yesterday. That means I'll just have to leave you this, Katie." He squirted some soap from a bottle into the bucket, then plunged a sponge into it, squeezing it until it was lathered with suds. Then he grabbed Katie's belt-leash again and yanked her close.

She recoiled, but he took the cold sponge and shoved it down the front of her costume, so that the top half protruded between her breasts. Cold water dripped down her belly, and she was almost resigned to the fact that her small pink nipples immediately tightened under his gaze.

"I'm not sure you'll be able to get to all the important parts with this thing," he said thoughtfully, "but try."

"You're not going to uncuff my hands?" Katie blurted out, forgetting everything he'd said about "proper address" in her outrage.

"I told you," he chuckled, "you'll need to earn that, and this is the first step. You're smart, Katie. I'm sure you can figure out how to get along without them if you improvise." He ruffled her hair like a child's; Katie could do nothing but tremble with hate.

"I want the device sparkling clean by the time I return. Should you not feel like hurrying, well..." He smiled at Emma. "You can imagine how I'll punish your friend if you disobey me twice, right?"

Emma glanced back, mute pleading in her eyes, as the door clicked shut behind them.

Katie tried to control the panic that rose in her throat as she was locked in the room once again. She was okay. She could do this. She wasn't bound to the machine, she could still move, she just had to perform one demeaning chore and then he'd back off a little, let them breathe. And that was when they could start planning their escape.

Right?

She forced herself to totter over to the device, still in the humiliating stripper-shoes, and get down on her knees on the cold concrete. She took a deep breath, and then leaned forward, pressing the conical blue thing between her breasts and slowly rubbing the sponge up and down it.

Not for the first time, Katie found herself wishing she were a little better-endowed. Her little b-cups were nice when she was out running around on the soccer field or deciding to go out without a bra, but now, as she hunched her shoulders forward and tried to keep the sponge trapped between them, she could have used a decent rack.

Of course she hadn't expected to be titty-fucking a torture device the last time she skipped past a "mammary enhancement" ad in a magazine.

Laboriously, Katie rubbed the sponge over as much of the surface as she could, though it was tough to get behind the thing, in among the struts and servos. Up close to it for the first time, she could see some of the intricate construction inside it, and she wondered if James had built it himself. If he had, he was a master machinist--not only did it seem incredibly complicated, but durable. She would have loved to smash the thing to bits, but without a sledgehammer, she didn't think she could even dent it.

She managed to get the blue rubber clean, but her sponge was getting dry. Improvise, he'd said. Reluctantly, Katie squirmed over the icy spray-nozzle below the machine and contorted herself until she could press a switch at its base with her toe.

It was even colder than she'd remembered. Katie let out an involuntary gasp as below-freezing water misted her sensitive breasts; her nipples were painfully hard, and her whole body clenched at the sensation. But at least the sponge was wet.

Arching her back and bringing her belted crotch perilously close to the dildo she'd just cleaned, Katie worked the suds over the hateful electric contact pad that had shocked so many climaxes from her last night, then awkwardly twisted herself to wipe it clean with the side of her thin polyester uniform. A fine sheen of sweat was cooling on her skin from her exertions, but now she had a different problem: the black rubber cock and tongue-like vibrator were down among the lower part of the machine, and there was no way she could fit her whole torso down in there.

Gingerly, Katie tried to bend down and pluck the sponge from between her breasts with her mouth--maybe she could somehow get it behind her and use her hands--but all the rubbing had made it work down farther into the neckline of the uniform, and as she moved, it dropped down out of reach and came to rest against her belly button.

Fuck.

With an awful resignation, Katie realized there was only one way she could possibly clean the two remaining tools. He'd probably planned this all along, the bastard. But she wasn't about to let him get the pleasure of punishing Emma and blaming her for it. She wouldn't give him a single inch.