Satisfaction Guaranteed

"Mistress Kathy Products customer service. This is Carol. How may I help you?"

"Hello! Yes, I'm having trouble with one of your products."

"Really? I'm so sorry to hear that, sir. We stand by all of our products. Which of our fine pleasure devices is giving you trouble?"

"The, uh, the SBU-590."

"The automated self-bondage unit?"

"Yes. Yes. Um, yes."

"I can certainly help you with that. I'm having trouble hearing you, though. Can you move closer to your speaker phone?"

"No. No, I'm afraid that . . . I just . . . No."

"I understand. You pressed the red button for customer service?"

"Yes."

"And you are speaking into the microphone provided on the SBU-590?"

"Yes."

"And you're hearing me on the speaker that's also part of the unit?"

"Yes."

"Is the screen still working?"

"It seems to be."

"What does it say?"

"It says, 'Press red button for customer service.'"

"Good, that means your system is still online. Give me a moment while I retrieve your information, and I'll see if I can address your problem remotely."

"Thank you so much."

"This call may be monitored for training purposes. Is that all right?"

"I, uh . . . Who . . . would be monitoring?"

"Just trainees, and other interested parties. Quality control is our number one priority. Do I have your consent to continue?"

"Do I have to agree to that? This is kind of embarrassing."

"You don't have to agree to anything you don't want to."

"I'd rather not, then."

"That's quite all right. I'm sorry we couldn't help you. Have a good evening, sir."

"Wait! Wait! Don't go!"

"I'm still here. As I said, this call may be monitored. Do I have your consent to continue?"

"Yes! Yes, anything! Just don't hang up."

"Thank you. This will only take a moment."

"Does this sort of malfunction happen often?"

"The SBU-590 is the final word in self-bondage. It's been field-tested under the most stringent conditions and has been painstakingly designed to meet the needs of the lonely bondage enthusiast. Its titanium alloy frame, chain spools, motorized winch system, redundant power supply, and Intel Core processors are all lovingly assembled by Mistress Kathy's most detail-oriented engineers. It provides the ultimate feeling of helplessness in more than 150 stress/pleasure positions. It

never

malfunctions."

"Well, I'm stuck."

"You must have used it incorrectly."

"I was careful."

"We'll get to that in a moment. Am I talking to Edgar?"

"Yes."

"7999 Arbuckle Lane?"

"Yes. You know where I live?"

"Your SBU-590 is transferring your customer profile to me so that I may better assist you."

"Is this going to take long?"

"If I cannot address your problem remotely, we will send someone to your address to assist you in person."

"You're not going to call 911, are you?"

"911? Why? Do you want the police?"

"No, no, no, no!"

"Are you sure? I can send them right out."

"No, I'm sure. No police!"

"Very well. I'm still downloading your information, but I think I have enough to start. Can you reach the blue button?"

"I think so."

"Push the red and blue buttons together. That will put your SBU-590 into Remote Administrative Mode which allows me to operate your device from here. Can you do that?"

"I think so. . . . There."

A friendly face with big glasses appeared on the screen and smiled at him. "Edgar? You see me now, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, I do. I didn't know you could do that. Are you using Skype?"

"Something like it." The woman on the screen was very young, and her businesslike white blazer had been expertly tailored to suit her petite figure. "Before you got into your pleasure device this evening, did you read all of the instructions?"

"Yes."

"And did you test each component as instructed to make sure it was working properly?"

"Yes."

"And did they?"

"Yes, they were fine--before I got in. Each item locked, and then unlocked when I used my safe word."

"Did you also test the built-in cameras?"

"No, I'm not using them. I don't record my sessions. I don't do that."

"Well, that's awfully selfish of you."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind. Is there some kind of obstruction on the lenses? Because I can't see you from either of the two cameras."

"I put masking tape over the lenses. They made me nervous. I tried to remove the cameras, but they're stuck in there tight."

"You taped over the cameras? Oh, dear, dear. This takes so much longer if I can't see you!" She took off her white blazer--as if she knew this was going to take a while. The tube top she wore underneath seemed awfully casual for office attire. "Which of the stress/pleasure positions were you attempting?" she asked.

"Is it important?"

"Of course, it's important! Which one is giving you trouble?"

"It was, uh . . . it was . . . number 129."

She gasped. "The Gothic Hanging Yoke? My goodness, I'm impressed, Edgar! You're very daring!

Marta! It's a Gothic Hanging Yoke!

"

"Who are you talking to?"

"It's a slow night here. How on earth did you reach the red button from the position you're in?"

"If you

must

know, I'm only

half

in it. I started to get in, and then I got . . . scared. But now it won't let me go."

"Which half?"

"What?"

"Which half of you is in the Gothic Hanging Yoke? Top or bottom? Remember I can't see you."

"Um, top."

"So your head

and

your hands are in the ClampTite Punishment Yoke?"

"That's right."

"And the yoke is hanging?"

"Not yet. I didn't get that far."

"The yoke is still docked in the stockade position?"

"Yes."

"I think I know why you're having difficulty. You tried to abort the exercise in mid-procedure. And I see that you preset the device to Discipline Goddess—its highest setting. It doesn't allow for faintness of heart. The setting demands that you complete whatever procedure you start."

"That's not how it's supposed to work, though. Is it? I programmed a safe word. It's supposed to release

all

the catches when I say my safe word."

"Yes, but your safe word changed."

"It couldn't have! I didn't change it!"

"We changed it for you."

"What? But--but why?"

"You shouldn't have taped over the cameras. It's explained in the Terms of Service."

"The . . . what?"

"You indicated on our website that you had read the Terms of Service. You didn't just click through the thing without reading it, did you?"

"I . . . Uh . . . Listen, I paid a lot for this thing, and you're not really helping me."

"Your tone isn't very helpful.

I'm

not the one with the problem, Mister Gothic-Hanging-Yoke. I'm going to help you, but this is going to take some time, and you're going to have to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?"

"Whatever! Can you just tell me the new safe word?"

"Hold your hormones, big fella. There's a lot of information in your profile, and it's going to take time to find the specific information you're requesting. I'd find it a lot faster if you showed me a little more respect. Don't you think?"

"Jesus Christ! I don't know why I bought this thing!"

The lovely face on the screen sighed heavily, took off the big glasses, and no longer smiled.

"Don't you? Don't you really? Because I have the marketing information right here that tells me

exactly

why you bought the thing! Because all your life, you've been too timid to tell your sex partners what you really want—to be dominated--so when we gave you a discount on a big damn sex toy that promised what you craved, you couldn't resist because you wanted to feel helpless!"

"You can't talk to me that way!"

"So do you?"

"What?"

"Feel helpless?"

"Well . . . Well, yeah."

"Then your device is working properly."

"Listen, the ad says,

Satisfaction Guaranteed

!"

"Yes. But it doesn't say

yours

."

"What?"

"From a design aspect, the more helpless you feel, the better it's working. And I think it's working

perfectly

. It's not going to let you go until I'm

completely

satisfied that it's in our best interest to let you go. Do you understand? Are you listening?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm listening."

"Good. I will help you. I will find your safe word, but first I want you to ask me nicely."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . . Please tell me my safe word."

"Ask me nicely—by name."

"What?'

"The first thing I told you when our conversation started was my name. You

said

you were listening, but I'm not convinced. To convince me, you will have to ask me by name."

There was a terrible awkward silence.

She repeated, "Tell me my name, Edgar."

"Okay. Okay. Please tell me my safe word—

Mindy

?"

The girl on the screen playfully typed a few keystrokes. "Oops! I accidentally deleted your safe word! I'm

sooooooooo

sorry!"

Edgar said nothing. He didn't like where this was going.

"What's that I hear? Nothing? Oh, so

now

you're listening! Isn't this better? Here's what's going to happen next: Without a safe word, the only way the SBU-590 will let you out of a Gothic Hanging Yoke while in its Discipline Queen setting is for you to complete the

entire exercise

. The program doesn't tolerate shortcuts or work-arounds. But don't worry. I will talk you through it. And since you can't remember my name, you may call me

mistress

. Can you remember

that

?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I heard you."

"Yes--mistress."

The face on the screen smiled again. "Good, Edgar. Now let's have some fun."

"Will this take long--mistress?"

"That depends on you. Why do you ask? Have you been stuck there for long?"

"About an hour and a half, mistress."

"Oooooo! No wonder you're cranky! I'll tell you what. Since you've finally agreed to be good, I'll let you in on a little secret. While in Remote Administrative Mode, the SBU-590 allows me to engage a Time Out session. It won't release you, but it will make you more comfortable for a while before the really tricky stuff begins. Would you like that?"

"Yes, mistress. I would like that very much."

"You have to promise me to be good."

"I will, mistress."

"And you have to promise to do two things for me in return."

"What two things, mistress?"

"It doesn't matter. Both things are easy, and you're going to do them both. Promise me."

"I promise, mistress."

The steel yoke abruptly came loose from the rest of the machine but remained secured around his head and hands. It felt good to stand up straight for the first time in more than an hour, even though his hands were still suspended on either side of his head.

"I'll give you five minutes. You're still yoked, but you should be able to step out of the machine now."

He could. His feet had not yet been shackled, so now he could walk around a bit—not that he could go far looking the way he did.

"I don't hear you, Edgar. Did it work, or not?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Good. Now unlock your front door."

"My door! I mean, why, mistress?"

"You don't need to open it. Just unlock it. I may have to send a service representative to your house, and if I do, she'll need access."

"But with the door unlocked, anyone would be able to—"

"I understand. I'm sorry we're unable to help you. Have a good evening."

"Wait! Okay! I guess it's all right, but it feels weird to do this without the door locked. How long will this take?"

"As I said, that's up to you. The more you cooperate, the faster it'll be."

"But you've done this before, right?"

She started to giggle. "A Gothic Hanging Yoke? No." She said something he couldn't hear to someone he couldn't see. "Nobody here has ever done a Gothic Hanging Yoke. Honestly, we didn't think anyone would ever try it. But surprise! Here you are! Now, unlock your door."

"The service representatives you mentioned. Are they . . . discreet?"

She giggled again. "Hardly! They're domination experts. Subtlety's not what they're good at."

Edgar carefully undid the deadbolt on his door and walked back to the machine.

"It's unlocked, mistress."

"Good work, Edgar. Now take the tape off the camera lenses."

"No! I really can't do that."

"Oh, Edgar!"

"You don't understand. I . . . I don't have any clothes on."

"I know."

"You

know

? How can you know?"

"Well, it's kind of obvious, isn't it? You're using our product alone, and you've chosen a position that doesn't allow you to touch yourself—which defeats the whole purpose of using our product—unless, of course, you've applied our Feather-Touch Pleasure Cone. If I'm right, you're wearing the Pleasure Cone right now, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Edgar. I'm trying to help you."

"I'm really not. Not yet. I was going to do it later."

"Without the use of your hands? Really?"

"The thing looked silly. I was going to do the other parts first, and then . . . I clipped the cone to the stockade post--at waist level."

Edgar looked down at the simple yet frightening cone dangling from the end of its control cable. The sturdy retractable cable provided power, lubricant, and suction as required for the cone's shameful purpose. "I was going to lock the other parts down and then--you know—slide myself into it."

The face on the screen smiled approvingly. She typed something he couldn't see.

"What are you typing?"

"You're very creative, Edgar. When a customer finds a new way to use one of our products, we make a note of it. This helps us improve our products in the future. Well done. Now take the tape off the lenses."

"I can't."

"Edgar, why are you being so difficult?"

"I'm naked and you're not. It's not that hard to understand."

Her pretty eyes narrowed in a thoughtful way. "What if I were naked, too? Would that make a difference?"

Edgar hesitated before answering. "Would you do that?"

"Don't be absurd! I'm not the one stuck! I'm just saying it shouldn't make any

difference

what we're wearing. Do you want my help or not?"

"I'm not uncovering the cameras."

"If I can't see you, how will you be able to communicate after you've been gagged?"

"But . . . but I set the machine for

NO

gags! I chose the No-Gag Option."

"The No-Gag Option was part of the safe word protocol, and yours was deleted. Since you have no safe word—and because you're alone—you'll have no use at all for your mouth. The device knows this, so the gag is now part of its program. Just accept it. To finish the exercise, you have to be gagged."

"I hate you."

"That's hardly helpful. You

wanted

to be helpless, so enjoy it. Take the tape off the cameras. Now."

Physically, it wasn't difficult to do, even while wearing the yoke. Mentally, tearing away the slender adhesive strips of privacy was the hardest thing he had done since taking the machine out of the box.

"I see you, Edgar!" said the smiling face on the screen. "My, goodness! I'm not used to seeing all that body hair! The men on our island are all clean shaven--but you look

fine!

Some of

our

men should be jealous!"

"Y

our men

? You have a lot of men?"

"That's not important. It's time now for you to come back to the machine."

Edgar was not eager to return to the device. He was not at all certain that the smiling face on the screen was truly motivated to help him, but he didn't see any alternative.

"Come along! You're the one in a hurry, so don't make me wait! Your yoke needs to be docked in the stockade position for you to resume the exercise."

Edgar stepped into the machine and leaned forward until the yoke snapped into the stockade dock. He had to strain his neck upward to look back at the screen. When he did, he was surprised to see a second face staring at him from a new window on the bottom left corner of the screen.

"Who's that?"

"That's Marta. She's a trainee. I told you this session may be monitored. Now would you be so kind as to put your feet inside the ClampTite DoubleLock Shackle?"

Edgar looked down at the dreadful clamp between his ankles and realized he could not avoid it any longer. He carefully set his feet into it. It snapped shut with an unsettling clunk, pulling his ankles together while anchoring his feet firmly to the floor.

The newcomer in the corner of the screen had beautiful white teeth which she used to bite playfully on her pen as she stared. She said nothing with words, but her face registered silent approval.

"Are your feet secure now?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I heard you."

"Yes, mistress."

"Are you sure you can't get your feet out? Give your feet a good tug. We wouldn't want you falling out accidentally before we're done."

"I'm sure, mistress. I can't get out."

"You're hardly trying! This is part of our product research, and I can't continue until I'm satisfied that you are really trying to get out."

He tried to placate her, eager to be done with the ordeal. He tugged against the clamp, first with one leg, then the other, in an all-out effort to get free, but it achieved nothing.

Leaning forward, Marta the trainee bit harder on her pen.

Meanwhile, the larger face—what was the girl's name?—nodded with the condescension of an approving babysitter. "Well done, Edgar. Now let's get that yoke hanging, shall we?"

She typed a few keystrokes which he couldn't see.

A motor sprang to life. A pair of cables pulled taut. The yoke lurched upward with alarming force. Suddenly upright, he became acutely aware of his own shaft--no longer dangling, but standing to attention.

The screen now had three faces on it—the large one of the mystery mistress whose name he couldn't recall, and two smaller ones of Marta and another newcomer in an identical but separate window.

"How many people are going to be watching this," he asked--quickly adding, "Mistress?"

"I don't know. I told you it's a slow night at the office. Now let's have a good look at what we're working with, shall we?"

He wondered what she meant by that. Clearly she was already familiar with the workings of the machine, but then he realized she meant him. She turned an unseen knob. With his arms suspended and his feet anchored, the apparatus began to rotate him as if on a lazy Susan so that the built-in cameras could capture him from every angle as he turned.

"This wouldn't be necessary if you had better lighting in your living room," she scolded. "Ah, now there's a good angle. Yes, you're very handsome. Now I'll do a quick check of the unit's responsiveness."

The apparatus started to twist him abruptly back and forth, as if he were the agitator in a top-loaded washing machine. This had the effect of making his erection wobble in the most embarrassing way possible.

Marta and her friend tittered appreciatively.

In the large window, another woman in office attire was watching over the mystery mistress's shoulder, saying nothing.

"Your unit certainly looks sturdy," confirmed his interrogator. "Now let's get down to business." She rotated the apparatus to force him to face the screen.

The woman lurking over the girl's shoulder was gone, but her face soon reappeared in a small window next to Marta and her friend. The three small windows containing their faces rearranged automatically along the left edge of the screen to make the most efficient possible use of screen space as the mystery girl—what was her name?--continued to instruct Edgar.

"I have just a few questions for you before we continue, Edgar." As she spoke, the cables supporting his yoke slowly, almost imperceptibly, started to glide closer to the screen, forcing him to lean toward it.

"Questions?" he asked. "Are they important? I'd like to get out of here."

"It's just a brief customer survey. It'll only take a minute."

As the yoke inched slowly toward the screen, the clamp around his ankles slowly inched in the opposite direction, forcing him to tilt uncomfortably forward.