Housebound

Most of the time, James seemed to like to describe his little inventions, taunting her as he prepared whatever new diabolical thing he had prepared, but not now. He'd just stripped her out of the fetish maid outfit, disengaged her chastity belt (she'd gasped as its stubby dildo popped out of her, followed by an embarrassing dribble of her own wetness), and dragged her through the last steel door in the basement hallway.

The fitting machine had been frightening--and, she had to admit, erotic--because of its simple, sinister simplicity. Restraints, a vibrator, a big damn dildo. It was built for one specific purpose.

This machine, by contrast, took up the whole room. It looked like it had many, many purposes. And none of them were nice.

The upper part of it looked like the root ball of a tree, anchored in the ceiling; from it sprouted an array of slender, gleaming, articulated steel arms, every one tipped with a different tool. There were dozens of them--maybe a hundred--and Katie had glimpsed vibrators, clamps, electrodes, prods, cuffs, edges and needles (oh shit), nozzles, specula, even some rigged up with floggers and mechanical hands. And those were just the things she recognized. Some were too complicated to figure out at a glance; others were just... exotic.

Her heart pounded. Katie told herself it was fear.

Beneath that was a squat pillar, a couple of feet high, topped with what looked a bit like a giant hand: a central flat area and six thick "fingers" projecting from around it. It was covered in black leather, but the clear shape of the corners underneath it made it clear that the device was otherwise unpadded. That was where he was pulling her--and though she squirmed a bit, already uncertain about her decision, she didn't exactly resist.

When he lifted her onto it and set her on her back, the six dividers fit between her head and shoulders, shifted inward to pin her sides, and--of course--pressed against her inner thighs, keeping her legs wide apart. With calm efficiency, James pulled thick nylon webs from recessed pockets and began strapping her in: one wide strap across her ribs to hold her down, doubling her legs and securing them ankle to thigh, then doing the same with her arms, wrists to shoulders.

She tested the bonds, already knowing what she would find: she could squirm a little, shift, twist, but she could go approximately nowhere. The straps were a little lower than her body, and as he tightened them, she found herself being forced to arch upward, a sacrifice on a strange altar.

Katie really was amazed at how he managed to make each new bondage position more intimate and humiliating. To complete the effect, he pulled down one of the steel arms, which ended in a little LCD monitor. Katie found herself staring at a magnified video feed of her own bare, puffy, still-glistening pussy. She'd shaved down to that little strip of fuzz only the day before yesterday, but it seemed like a very long time ago...

"I think I had to do this in Women's Studies," she grumbled, squirming uncomfortably.

"I would have liked to audit that class," James smirked as he stuck a few electrodes into place on her lower back, inner thigh and flank. "Especially the part where they told you the female orgasm is magical and special, controlled by so many subtle and sensitive things, so different from the male version... right? Except you learned last night that they were wrong. Your orgasms are a response to stimulus, and that response is very, very reliable."

Katie blushed, and then felt ridiculous for doing so while being bound and completely exposed. "And I think you should have learned by now that you can't just try to control me with... o-orgasms." She made herself say it, trying to take the power of the word away from him, but then her voice wobbled and ruined it.

"That hypothesis needs more evidence," he said. "But I know controlling your orgasms will have very little to do with your conscious mind. Stimulus, response. Like this."

He reached up and tapped a little button concealed in the workings of the machine. Somewhere, a speaker played a recording of his own voice saying one strange word: "

Hadi.

"

Katie pursed her lips. "Oh yes, yes yes," she said. "I just came so hard. Oh baby. Ungh."

"Christ, I like you," he laughed, running his hand casually up her slit and then spreading her labia apart. His other hand followed, and Katie saw him holding a long, thin silver chain--with a wide, flat clamp at each end. She tried to flinch away, but the straps held her so tight that all she could do was grunt and strain her legs. Calmly, unerringly, James took her outer lip and snapped the first clamp onto it.

Being spanked and shocked hadn't prepared Katie for that. She caught her breath, eyes watering, using every bit of her willpower not to squeal like a punished child. James grinned and tugged on it a couple times, making sure it was secure, then ran the chain down under her back and around to the inside of her thigh again.

The snap of the second clamp wasn't any better.

Blinking away tears, she found herself looking at the little monitor again: she'd never seen her own pussy this way, spread wide by the taut chain, glistening with pink wetness in the dim light. It was... lewd, somehow, a bizarre thought in the middle of a mechanical bondage torture chamber. But there it was. She'd never felt so completely exposed.

"Don't worry," he said, "I won't make you look at it forever," and pulled out the mask.

"James," she started. "Um. Sir, if I have to call you that. I don't--I mean--I think this wammmMMMFF!"

She jerked and tried to turn her head, but he secured it around her quickly enough anyway. It was a strange mask, wrapping around her face to the back of her head but leaving her hair to spill out free: like a thick rubber band, almost, but made of some tightly woven stretch fabric that didn't seem to let condensation build up underneath it. It was more than dense enough to blindfold her, though, and when she tried to gasp she found that it had a thin latex-like pouch situated just above her mouth. With humiliation, she realized it was a built-in condom.

That meant she was only going to be breathing through the two little nose holes. As she felt a pair of headphones sealed against her ears, cutting off every sense but touch, Katie felt her pulse accelerate uncontrollably. She'd thought she could take it. She'd thought she could challenge him. But she hadn't known he had this waiting for her...

She was trussed up like a captive animal, naked, clamped and spread. She was blind, deaf and speechless, being cradled by a baroque machine with what she suspected was a frightening capacity for controlling her body. Katie trembled. Any sense of inner strength she'd had, any semblance of control, he had stripped away from her in just minutes, and the machine hadn't even

started

yet. She had no self-possession. She was possessed.

She felt her body jerk when he brushed the back of his hand against her flank. She couldn't hear him, but she knew he'd be chuckling at her reaction. He moved his touch lower, tracing the curve of her belly as it rose and fell, brushing his thumb over the dip of her belly button; Katie felt goosebumps rise on her skin. For all his force and cruelty, all the times he'd held her down or punished her, there was a gentleness to this touch that she hadn't expected.

His finger tapped once against her clit, and then his hand was gone.

Katie waited expectantly, but nothing else happened. She counted ten breaths, sixty, another sixty. With her ears and eyes covered, she had no idea if he was still in the room. But when the machine suddenly began to move, with the whir and hum of motors activating in its base, she knew.

It captured her left breast first, with something that felt like a rubber mouth, cool and firm and slippery with contact gel. She could feel it seal onto her and give a couple of experimental tugs, then a firm thumping pressure as it began to rhythmically suck most of her little breast into itself, release, and pump again. Under normal circumstances, she didn't think it would have done much for her. As it was--she realized with an uncomfortable prickle of awareness--her time being used by (and using) the fitting machine had... changed her somehow. There was something about its unvarying pace, its sheer mundane functionality, that her body responded to instantly. Each tug at her skin sent an aching tingle through her, and that was even before its companion on her right side came into play.

It was completely different--a hard, flat metal surface and a blunt prong that unerringly captured her nipple between them. Trying to think of what she'd seen before she was hooded, Katie remembered with a jerk of horror that there had definitely been knives on the ends of some of those arms. He wouldn't possibly--would he? The cold steel began to tug and twist slightly, tweaking her nipple against its cold edge, while a third piece descended to orbit them, like a sharp wheel that circled and circled her areola. The rubber mouth had made her want to struggle and pull away; this one made her want to freeze very, very still.

She could just barely hear the noise of the machine through her headphones, echoing in the room, and then there was the hiss of an audio stream cutting in and she lost even that. It sounded like a machine too, but a different one, hissing and clanking like some kind of pneumatic pump. There were jingling clinks that sounded like chains, and an echo that she recognized all too well from these basement rooms. Playing over it, helpless and desperate, were the cries of two young women.

Jen and Amber. Oh shit, it had to be--he was playing the audio feed from their torture room, forcing her to be a voyeur as he subjected them to whatever horrible device he'd dreamed up in there. She hated this, wanted desperately to shake the headphones off, but her mind raced ahead in an attempt to imagine what they could possibly be undergoing. Clanking metal, the slap of wet flesh over and over, vibrators buzzing, and the slick fucking sound of two dripping cunts being put to hard use.

Every once in a while one of them would try to say something--"no no no no no no no," gasped one, and "fuck I'm sorry I can't" squealed the other--and then a buzzer would sound. The noise would redouble, and one girl or the other would positively scream. Orgasm? Katie wondered, deep in her shivering mind. Surely not. But James had certainly made her come that fast, when he wanted to, and he'd definitely seen fit to couple it with pain...

She squirmed against the straps, despite the pulse-racing danger of the sharp tool orbiting her breast. The places he'd stroked her before he left still tingled, somehow, the memory of his touch so different than the machines mindlessly working on her body. She couldn't help but imagine what he'd done to Emma, alone with her that first night, to bend her so completely to his will. Even on the fitting machine, Katie hadn't broken--not quite. But when he focused his attention on her, she had to admit, the world had shifted underneath her feet.

An involuntary flutter in the muscles of her lower back made her shiver. Was that the electrodes stimulating her? Or were they just for monitoring her responses? The twitching could very well be her own nerves, figuratively or literally. She was certain this was just the warmup stage for this baroque machine, and she could imagine all too well what it would do to her once it got going.

Letting herself imagine it was a mistake. It could stretch her, couldn't it, pull her taut and snap a row of clamps off her sensitive skin like she'd seen in that kinky video once? It could turn her head-down and jackhammer her, or flip her back over and bounce her on a fat rubber cock just like last night's machine had done. It could close her nostrils and make her suck helplessly for air. It could fuck her mouth with the same dildo it used on her cunt, and work a whole chain of beads into her convulsing ass while it did so. It could stimulate her in a thousand places and hurt her in twice as many, and she knew by now that these machines could detect when she got too close to coming, and respond in even more horrible ways.

It wasn't just her lower back shaking now, it was her thighs, her body overloading with a combination of too many emotions to separate and name. Fear was in there, and growing fast, and so were anger and panic, but there was no way to pretend arousal wasn't too. There was a weird sense of being... filled, lifted, like the lower part of her torso was floating at the top of a saltwater tank. The places where he'd touched her were sensitive to even the brush of still air in this room, and it felt like her nerves had all gathered at one point, and just the slightest pressure would hit them all at once and--

With a shock, Katie realized that she was teetering on the edge.

Fuck. No. He couldn't. Not even James, with his fucking evil machines and his creepy girl-control jujitsu, could make her come without even touching her clit. That was impossible. There was no way that just having her nipples stimulated, even combined with this awful form of eavesdropping, could actually get her off! Get her wet, maybe, and make her throb with need, make her clench involuntarily...

Katie had the disquieting thought that even if she were right, and he couldn't make her come like this, forcing her to edge without so much as a breath on her pussy could be an even more effective form of training.

The pincers on her right nipple squeezed extra hard, accompanying it with a tiny electric shock, and Katie almost sucked the latex of her mask into her mouth just to have something to bite down on. Fuck. She could feel herself dripping. She kept rushing closer to climax and then pulling away, her legs trembling in the tight straps as she jerked her hips against nothing. She whimpered. Pain and pleasure on her tight nipples had become almost indistinguishable. She couldn't even remember whether she was supposed to be holding back or not, but it didn't seem to matter--the machine had her balanced perfectly at the peak of her arousal, and it showed no interest in letting her down either side.

Then a thin, flexible switch snapped directly across her clit like a line of fire, and before she could even squeal into the rubber, his voice in her ear whispered "hadi."

It ripped an orgasm from her, making her twist and strain at the straps until her muscles cramped and she tried desperately to get enough breath. It wasn't a deep orgasm like the one he'd triggered in the other room, or a forced one like those from the electrical contact pad--this was definitely her own body responding to the machine, a sharp wash of pleasure from her cunt as it clenched on nothing. When it released her she collapsed back against the pedestal, muscles weak, feeling sweat gather at her lower back.

It gave her about three seconds to recover.

Cold metal curves worked their way between her lips, then deeper, and she gasped as they suddenly ratcheted apart. A speculum. What a stupid male way to think of her body--as a hole to be clinically spread apart and plugged again with whatever damn object he had lying around. Katie was disgusted by it. Unfortunately, in the afterwash of her painful climax, the thought of herself being strapped down and turned into an object that way was also a humiliating turn-on.

Even through the headphones she could hear the clanking hiss of a valve opening, and then she jerked up again despite her exhaustion, squealing into the rubber as a jet of his trademark icy-cold lube sprayed hard against her wide-open pussy. Not that she needed it--and damn him, James knew fucking well she wouldn't--but even as the cruelly cold liquid finally dribbled to a stop, she was scared of what could possibly be coming next.

It was steel, rigid steel, and it felt as if it had a ninety-degree bend in it as it pushed its way inside her: a thin, flat L-shaped bracket with a knob at the tip. She gritted her teeth despite the lube. This thing was not designed for her comfort. Each movement was distinct and mechanical, like a series of gears slotting it into place in her cunt. Katie helplessly tried to shift to ease the discomfort, tilting her hips as much as she could, but it followed her movement, pressing upward hard until she couldn't arch any farther. Then it switched on.

It was a vibrator, a powerful one, but this one still wasn't touching her clit. It wasn't even designed to fuck her--too thin, maybe a centimeter in diameter. What it did, the

only

thing it did, was shove that buzzing knob up into her g-spot.

His goddamn fitting machine again. It knew exactly where to press, relentless and much, much too powerful, driving against her still-sensitive flesh from inside in a way that absolutely should not have turned her on. It was like being fucked by the hammer on a fire alarm bell. Katie's back ached, and the muscles of her abdomen were taut and trembling as she tried to keep it from jamming even harder against her. It was not gentle.

The speculum contracted, and with a shivering sound of metal on metal, it began to slide back out of her--leaving the metal tool inside her. The lube didn't help one fucking bit. Her pussy was shaping itself around the bar, still feeling stretched but in a different way now--if anything, it was even less comfortable, as the vibrations that kept the knob going also caused its edges to rub against her walls.

It was like nothing she'd ever felt before, and not in a good way. Katie felt herself clench in panic, which only made things worse. She wanted it out of her like she'd never wanted anything. She absolutely hated it. She was also well on her way to another orgasm.

How could that possibly be happening? It was one thing to have been edged all night and then has the electrical toys force her to come--that was just convulsion, a muscle reaction and pure physics. This was different. This was her body under stimulus, direct and focused, reacting as if she were having the best sex of her young life. She wasn't. This was nothing like sex, even if there had been someone else in the room: there was no communion, no fulfillment, no connection...

Was there?

In her headphones, the girls groaned together, as if all the forced pleasure-pain had driven them somewhere past conscious thought. They were just bodies, squirming wet stretched warm clenching bodies, existing under the absolute dominion of the machines that drove them on. Like her.

Katie shook her head, whimpering, as the now-sporadically-chattering tool stimulated her and stopped and stimulated her and stopped and stimulated her and stimulated her and stopped. If not for the pieces still cruelly pinching and pumping her breasts, her entire world would have been reduced to the rod wedged into her body. It wasn't playing with her--playing implied a sense of attention, of fun. This was a machine that forced her nerves to activate in one place, and if that scraped her mind back and forth over the edge of her raw desperation, it had no capacity to care.

"

Hadi,

" James said coolly in her ears, and just as she began to buck and squeal in the first throes of climax, he said it again.

She came twice, one on top of the other, the waves slightly out of phase with each other as her body struggled to obey the near-simultaneous commands. From a hazy distance, Katie could tell when the waves met and interfered, giving her a moment of odd flatness in the middle of her screaming orgasm, and then again when they met and redoubled, sending pleasure shooting through her back and thighs so intensely that halogen lights flickered in her skull.

She couldn't breathe fast enough. Her muscles were shaking where they weren't cramped and immobile, and she knew she was high on this, her consciousness altered by the chemicals the machine had brought out of her own body. The first proof was when the two tools popped off of her nipples and she felt a leather flap smack her breast hard to one side.