Research

(written by Arin, edited and enhanced by Molly)

"Professor, your name was suggested to me by one of your colleagues, Joanne Peters."

His warm voice emerged from the cellphone I was holding near my ear. "Yes, I know Joanne well. And what is your name, young lady, and how can I be of help?"

"Oh, sorry, Professor. I should have introduced myself. My name is Alison Greer. The reason that I'm calling is about a book that I'm writing. It's my attempt to describe what day to day life was like for women throughout history. I've been interviewing people that are considered experts in their field. And to be honest, Professor, many just relate the same story about a minuscule time period, over and over. Since your field is 'Studies of Women's History' and covers a more sweeping look at the topic, Joanne urged me to get in touch with you."

"Well, Alison, I'm afraid that our classes are done for this academic year, so if you wanted to sign up for my course, you'd have to wait until my sabbatical is complete, and I return to teaching again."

"She mentioned that you were taking a break from classes, since it was time for your sabbatical leave. I know that means you're to take a break from work, and use the time to pursue other interests such as volunteering, travel, and research. But if it's not too much of an imposition, I'd really appreciate it if you could find time to meet with me, let me ask you some questions, and perhaps show you the status of my current manuscript, which you could critique, if you wished."

"I see, Alison. Certainly, I'm curious about what you've done thus far. Although I've penciled in things I feel I must do for the remainder of this week, I'd be pleased if you might come here for lunch at my home, any day next week."

"I'd really be grateful for such an opportunity, Professor. Would Monday of next week be OK?" I was really anxious to get his expert opinion, and was gratified that he was willing to make time for me.

"That sounds perfect, Alison. And if we're going to interact as colleagues, please call me 'John' since 'Professor' sounds a bit formal and stuffy." I was thrilled that he was being so nice and helpful, and carefully jotted down his address, and some driving information about the best way to get to his home. As I hung up the phone, I elatedly pumped my fist in triumph that I was hopefully going to be able to advance my project in leaps and bounds. I spent some of my time preparing my questions for him, and I even highlighted several sections of my manuscript that I felt needed improvement.

In Monday, after getting lost only once, I arrived near the time he'd requested at John's house (it still was a little difficult for me to address him so informally, but I was working on it). He lived just outside the city in a large house and also had what appeared to be a small barn, separated from the house by a distance. The property was fairly big, making me wonder if he maintained it himself, or hired gardeners to care for it all. My nervousness was threatening to make me hyperventilate, so I took several slow, deep, calming breaths before getting out of my car.

He smiled as he opened the door to greet me, showed me around several rooms of his house and then led me to his office. We sat and talked for over an hour. As I sat there I enjoyed the conversation immensely. He was a good, clear speaker, explaining his thoughts and reasons in a very understandable fashion as I took notes. His tone of voice conveyed his enthusiasm for his field, and I imagined quite a few of the coeds at his college might have a crush on him, since he was quite good looking in a very distinguished way. I gave him a copy of my manuscript and asked if he would read it and give me his comments and any corrections he felt were needed. He cordially agreed.

We then had a nice lunch together and continued to talk more about the history of women. He indeed had a much more sweeping breadth of knowledge on the subject than I'd ever encountered. At the conclusion of our leisurely lunch, I shook hands to thank him and left. In the car, my palm tingled a little, as if I could still feel his hand holding mine. "Careful, Alison," I murmured to myself as I drove, "or you might be joining the cohort of his smitten coeds. What a wonderful, helpful guy! I'll have to remember to thank Joanne for her referral."

John had given me several new sources to research, so I plunged back into working on expanding my manuscript, using not only his references, but also the notes I'd taken during our talk. About a week later my phone rang.

"Hello, Alison. It's John. Are you available for another lunch, perhaps next Thursday? I've read through your manuscript and it shows a lot of promise. I did mark it up a bit, suggesting corrections, and places where it can be expanded. But we can go through all that together when we meet."

"Hi John! I'm really happy to hear your voice, and I'd love to come to lunch again. Thursday will be wonderful. I've been researching some of the references you gave me, and my writing is flowing a lot more easily. I'd be delighted to show you what I've unearthed." The racing of my heart as I once again experienced communicating with him was my body's way of non-verbally expressing that happiness that I'd mentioned. Silently, I wondered if I'd dare give him a hug when I saw him again.

John asked me to arrive closer to lunch time for this visit, but I got there a little early, hoping I could help out. It was a clear, sunny day and I'd decided on wearing one of my better sundresses, because it displayed my figure nicely. Since John was being so nice in helping me, I thought he might appreciate a visual treat. And, OK, I'll admit it -- I did take extra care with my hair and makeup that morning.

When he opened the door, he broke into a big smile that looked wonderful on his handsome face. "Alison! Come in, come in! You're a little early, but very welcome."

"I hoped I might be able to help you prepare lunch," I explained. I tried to ignore the goosebumps that manifested on my arms as I stepped closer to him. However, I did chicken out on trying to hug him.

"How delightful!" he exclaimed, and from the way he was gazing at me, I had to wonder if he was referring to my offer of help, or to my appearance. I guess I hoped he meant both.

"For lunch today, it's so lovely outside that I have a barbecue going on my back deck," he stated. "Simple fare. I hope you like hamburgers. You can help with the condiments and the other fixings." We went to his kitchen and he put me to work preparing some lettuce, slicing some pickles, and so on. It was nice sharing space with him, and working alongside him.

The lunch was really nice and he even served wine. We had a good discussion about my latest findings, and other friendly topics. After we'd finished eating and clearing away, he fetched my manuscript, and brought it out onto the porch so I could read it and discuss his markings and comments while enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.

I really loved reading his impressive notes, corrections, and additions, and told him so. However, he felt I had a gap in the book. I asked him about it.

"Alison, I know you touched on the medieval period. However, since this is my special area of study, I feel you haven't covered that period in sufficient detail. You want your readers to immerse themselves in the plight of women throughout the ages. But in the medieval period women were treated extremely badly by the church, superstition, and society in general. Their plight was a very difficult one, and I think you can make that come alive for your readers," he explained. "I'm actually a collector of artifacts from that time period. Some of the ones I have are rather rare and unusual. Would you be interested in seeing them?"

I smiled. "Of course I'm interested. Seeing the real things might help immensely with my writing about them."

John proudly led the way to that outbuilding that looked a little like a barn. When we reached it, he unlocked what looked like a very sturdy lock, opened the door, and switched on the lights. Inside the structure was another securely locked door. When John unlocked it, we stepped into a large room. There were several items on display and my eyes moved from one to another. I recognized some of them, but others were unknown to me.

My gaze fell on a pile of chains and cuffs, which looked heavy and old. As I pointed at them, John said, "Those were found in an old castle. A friend of mine knew that I'd love to have them, and sent them to me not very long ago." He lifted the mass of chains up, untangling them a little as he did so. "See? This heavy collar connected to this chain that ran down the victim's back. On that back chain you can see a set of wrist cuffs connected to it at a level just below the shoulders in the back. The back chain continues down to another chain connecting the ankle shackles together. That ankle chain is only about a foot in length. All this restraint made the victim completely helpless."

For some reason, hearing that explanation as I saw the actual chains sent a shiver through me. "May I touch it?" I asked. He nodded, so I reached out and lifted some of the chain. The links were even heavier than I'd imagined, and I intuited what it would be like to be imprisoned in them and how humiliating that would be.

He stepped over to the next item. "This is a scold's bridle," he explained. ""This came from the same castle as the chains and cuffs." He held it up so I could see the metal frame. "Right here in the back, it opened up so it could be placed over the victim's head. This flat tab of metal was forced into the mouth, holding the tongue down to prevent speech. This one has this strap under the chin, which when tightened made it difficult to lower the jaw, further silencing the victim. Reportedly, it was used on women who gossiped or talked back to their husbands."

His face got a faraway look as if he was visualizing that scene, and then continued. "It is rumored that the owner of the castle would make his wife wear it during any time he held court in the main hall, or at special parties. He might even make her wear it if they left the castle to go into the village. He did all this to humiliate her."

I felt a strange sort of agitation as I noted how its thin straps of metal would encase the head. This one had an additional metal piece that rose above the top of the head. It had a bell hanging from it that would ring with the slightest movement of the head. This would alert passersby to look and gawk, and further humiliate the wearer. I found myself thinking what it would be like to be locked in it and humiliated in such a manner. It gave rise in me to strange emotions that I could not name or explain.

John, well into his tale by this point chuckled. "The rumors go on to say that If the victim was a servant, she would wear this and be paraded naked through the village streets to face humiliation by the entire population as a lesson, that is, serving as a lesson to the other women. This was all done to keep women in what men felt was their place -- one of subjugation."

My body reacted. I was getting excited and I was having thoughts that were very out of character. "John, I'm sorry, but I'm not feeling well. This has been coming on today. Lunch was lovely, and your comments on my manuscript are wonderful. But please excuse me for now. Maybe sometime soon I can come back and admire the rest of your collection."

Ever the solicitous host, John quickly escorted me and my things to my car. As I was about to drive away, he told me, "I hope you feel better very soon." I hurried home, took off all my clothes and got onto my bed. I couldn't get the image of me being locked in his devices out of my mind. This imagery developed into him making me his serving girl, rendering me helpless and using me. My hands got very busy as I closed my eyes to better 'see' that scene, and I fingered myself to a strong orgasm right there on my bed. Again, I couldn't explain why I felt I had to do this -- my body seemed to just be demanding it.

Over the next week, I couldn't get the insidious vision of myself helpless in the different devices out of my mind. I'd write more on my manuscript. But fantasy story lines kept creeping into my consciousness as I went about my day. Each night I'd lay in my bed wondering what it would be like to be helpless and used for pleasure. My body wouldn't let me fall asleep until I brought myself to the relief of having a climax or two.

Several days later, John called. "Hello Alison, I hope I'm not bothering you, but since I haven't heard from you, I just wanted to make sure you're all right. I sincerely hope I didn't upset you by showing you those items in my collection. I know they help establish the stark reality of what people suffered."

"Oh John! I'm feeling fine again, and I appreciate your concern. Your comments on my manuscript and explanations were really helpful. And please rest assured that I wasn't upset at all by seeing a little of your collection. I only regret that I didn't see more of it, since it looked like your outbuilding had a lot to see. I hope you'll show me more someday!"

"Then perhaps you can come to lunch again next Tuesday? I really enjoy your company, Alison. And seeing and hearing someone express such enthusiasm for my special interests. It's great to know and converse with someone that shares a common interest with me. And I'd love to show you more of my collection."

I agreed to join him for lunch on the coming Tuesday, and I managed to hang up my phone before my body shivered with excitement. I couldn't wait for that day to arrive! Something primal seemed to have been awakened in me. I really wanted to see more of those items and hear him explain about their usage. I started to have vague fantasies about things and this new knowledge apparently had started a fire in me that was burning brightly. Something told me that it might help if I made myself look as attractive as possible for next Tuesday. Was I developing a crush for John, like some wide-eyed coed? "Well, so what if you are?" I asked myself. "We're both adults."

Tuesday morning, I showered carefully, dried off and did my hair. Looking through my wardrobe, I decided on wearing a garter belt and dark stockings. Over that, I wore a tight blouse and a short skirt. Did I consciously or subconsciously omit a bra and panties? To this day, I'm not quite sure. I put on just enough makeup to make it look like I wasn't wearing any makeup, other than my lip gloss.

Taking along a copy of my latest additions to my writing, I drove to John's house. Since I knew the route a lot more clearly, I again arrived a little early. However, as I walked toward his front door, it opened before I reached it and John was smiling at me. Perhaps he'd heard my car, or perhaps he'd been eagerly watching out a window for my arrival. I sure hoped it was the latter.

"Come in, come in, Alison!" he greeted me. "Wow! You look terrific! You're certainly perking up my day!" I think I blushed a little pink at his comments, but I sure enjoyed hearing them. Not only that, but as he stepped close, I inhaled deeply as I greeted him in return. He smelled terrific! I couldn't describe his scent, but I was beginning to believe in pheromones!

Again I helped him get ready for our lunch. It was nice working alongside him, and every chance I got I subtly inhaled his wonderful scent. It being another nice day, we again had lunch on the deck and I enjoyed it a lot. I showed him my new pages, and he read them with interest, making helpful comments which I jotted down in my notebook.

He went on to expound quite a few thoughts about my book, all of which I found to be really useful, and took even more notes. When that conversation wound to an end, I asked, "So, do we have time to see more of your collection?" He nodded, and the two of us quickly cleared the table. After we cleaned up, we headed for the out building. That strange sensation returned -- I got more excited the closer we got to that building, having some idea of what was in there. My heart and breathing rates increased and a fresh crop of goosebumps erupted on my arms. Not only that -- my unconfined nipples swelled and pressed against the smooth material of my blouse.

After he opened the innermost door and turned on the light, my eyes glanced around at the items in his collection that were on display. I walked over to the two that I was familiar with from my last visit -- the combination chain and cuff, followed by the scold's bridle.

Next John displayed for me a chastity belt and explained, as an example, how it was used to keep women chaste when their husbands went off to fight the Crusades. He let me touch it, which sent a thrill through me. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like having it securely locked on me, forcing me to go through day after day, wearing it.

The next item was yet another scold's bridle, but this one was more elaborate than the first one I'd seen. This one had a full face mask with slots for the eyes limiting the wearer's vision and a protruding nose and a slot for the mouth with sharp hideous-looking metal teeth. This version had big protruding ears with bells hanging from both of them. Those two bells were bigger and rang louder with any movement. John explained all of this was to enhance the humiliation factor.

Trying hard not to show it, I was getting more excited as I examined each item as we went along. I could only hope that John wasn't becoming aware of the scent of arousal that my trickling pussy juices were signaling. The next he showed me was called a fiddle, but it sure wasn't a musical instrument. Made from metal, it was clamped around the wearer's neck and stretched forward into two cuffs positioned next to each other in front of the wearer's body. That placement would lock their wrists in front of their body and up by their chest. The design was clever, when closed around the neck and hands a single pin locked it on. A lock was placed thru a hole in the bottom of the pin preventing its removal. The lock was secured under the fiddle's body, well out of reach of the victim's hands.

The next piece was a yoke, locked around the neck there was a metal frame from each side that the hands were locked into. The hands were secured about a foot on either side of the head. Here again the neck and hands were each locked by a pin. The pins were secured with locks near the bottom of each pin, impossible for the victim to reach.

By now, I was actually shaking with excitement, and John must've noticed. "Alison, would you like to try on one of these items?" he asked me. My knees went weak upon hearing that question, and I felt my pussy getting even wetter. Unable to speak at that moment, and also unable to make eye contact, I merely nodded vigorously. "Then for this demonstration, would you rather be a slave or a lady, Alison?"

I thought for a moment and whispered, "A slave, Master." Uttering that, I felt my fate was sealed and I hoped he'd follow through with some actual role play.

John inquired, with a sort of a catch in his voice, "Would you like to experience what a woman might be subjected to in those historical days?" A quiver that I couldn't control ran through me as I nodded my acceptance. John chuckled, "Then since you declared you're a slave for this reenactment, a slave would be naked during her punishment. Are you sure you want to be a slave?" I didn't know that this really wasn't an actual requirement, but it fed right into what I'd been fantasizing about for weeks.

I blushed, but wordlessly started to remove my clothes. I'd never been so excited in my life. I truly looked forward to what might happen. This whole experience had awakened something deep inside me, and I knew I just had to experience it. I was even oblivious to the fact that as I stripped John couldn't fail to notice my swollen, wet pussy.