A Slave in Steel: a Theo Story

Author's note: The beginning of this story follows on from "The Scold Returns," but it's sufficiently stand-alone that you don't need to go back to the previous story unless you feel like it.

Slave Seventeen: T'Jalla

None of us slept well last night. The sleeping quarters are farther from the punishment cells than the main living quarters are, but the agonized screams still echoed faintly down the hall. They would cease for a while, maybe twenty minutes, and then abruptly start up again.

We knew exactly what was going on: Theo had given each of us a tour of the punishment cells on our orientation day, and even those of us who had never had the misfortune of experiencing them first-hand knew that somebody was standing spread-eagled, chained to the wall with electrodes somewhere. Theo favoured ass and cunt, and had dildo-style electrodes to strap in for the purpose, but sometimes he liked to vary the punishment by clamping wires onto other parts such as nipples.

The victim must have really pissed Theo off. Usually he contents himself with just chaining the slave to the wall and letting her stand there in a puddle of her own piss for a few hours or days. That's unpleasant enough to make the point. He only brings out the electricity for a really serious infraction such as trying to escape or hurting a client while resisting.

And we all had a pretty good idea who it was. Amanda hadn't come back from the entertainment suites with the rest of us, and didn't show up at bedtime. We all liked Amanda, a pretty, chestnut-haired white woman who seemed to have her shit mostly together, even though she would sometimes allow herself to unburden as to how much she hated the life we were leading. That gave us all an opening to vent, knowing that Theo would be listening and didn't care whether we liked our lives or not. It did us all good to let it out, although we quickly returned to the usual stoic resignation that kept us sane.

Amanda showed up at about four in the morning. Two security officers, one on each side, helped her into her cubicle - she looked as though her legs were far too rubbery to walk, or even stand. I peeked over the divider and saw her collapse into bed just as she had left the showroom many hours earlier - that is, stark naked - and instantly fall asleep, or maybe just pass out. We all wanted to grill her on what had happened, but nobody was heartless enough to try to wake her up now. I heard the rustle of covers as the women who had been wakened turned over to go back to sleep.

We didn't see her at breakfast, which wasn't surprising. She would have gotten even less sleep than we did, probably none, and she had some catching up to do. She turned up in the common room a bit before lunch, looking showered and somewhat pulled together.

We didn't know what to say. Alice finally broke the ice with the obvious question - what happened?

She explained how an ex-boyfriend of a few years back had subjected her to an elaborate and humiliating bondage rape as a way of breaking up with her. He had hung her upside down and face-fucked her, shoved a dildo on a pole into her pussy and attached it to a spreader bar, doubled her over in the spreader and fucked her in the ass, even though he knew she hated it - just about everything her could think of that was horrible, painful and humiliating. Here at Theo's, she gets the same sort of treatment almost every night, but that time was the first that anything like that had happened to her, and it had left her deeply scarred. And then the ex-boyfriend showed up here as one of Theo's clients, and triggered a massive attack of PTSD. She broke several of Theo's cardinal rules, including resisting the client and, worst sin of all, trying to persuade him to help her escape.

"I guess I was lucky," she said as she picked at her salad and sandwich at lunch. "I thought for sure I'd be in there for weeks. I don't know why Theo was feeling lenient, but I was certainly happy when he let me out after eight hours or so. Theo's 'lenient' treatment is plenty bad enough to make his point."

"I feel for you," said Rasheed. "I spent an hour or two in there early on, when I tried to fight back against a client and nearly crushed his balls. That was plenty long enough. Ten minutes with electricity running between your pussy and asshole would be plenty long enough. I don't know how you stood it."

"Didn't have a choice," came the obvious reply. "Just like everything else here, you always have two choices: put up with it, or put up with it. Theo doesn't give you many options."

Our conversation wasn't the usual casual chit-chat that evening. We were all sobered by Amanda's experience, and redoubled our resolution not to do anything what would get us in that cell unless it was sure to be very, very worth it.

**

I identify as Afro-Canadian. Although my skin is clearly non-White, it's light enough to show that there's obviously a lot of European DNA from way back swimming around amid the African - probably the legacy of some slave owners with a taste for dark chocolate. That DNA has given me hair that's almost straight, straight enough that I've had people accuse me of straightening it and therefore somehow denying my black ancestry, which I'm actually very proud of. Other than that, I'm tall (though not as imposing as Serena), medium build, with mostly Caucasian features with just a bit of African look around the nose. My breasts are on the large side - C cup - but firm and well-carried, with very dark nipples and areolas that many white men find striking and exotic.

Many generations back, according to family lore, my ancestors bailed the southern US before abolition and settled in Halifax, in the community called Africville. I won't kid you that things were totally rosy for people of colour even in Canada, especially back then - just google Africville to find out how things worked out for black people there. But, again according to family lore, it certainly beat the southern US, even for emancipated Afro-Americans.

The day unfolded the way days usually did: an hour or more in the gym, followed by our Kegel exercises, some with jade eggs and some without. The eggs aren't really jade (sorry Gwyneth Paltrow), they're weighted silicone - jade is slightly porous, and very unsanitary over time. But the principle is the same: put the egg in your vagina and then try to keep it there while doing knee bends and other exercises. Combined with other vaginal exercises, it firms up the pelvic floor and keeps the vagina ready for action.

There was also anal stretching - even those of us who had been here a long time liked to keep our anuses limbered up, given the sorts of things clients like to shove in there. Then some television or reading, or maybe some hobby or other. I had started knitting again after many years of letting it slide, and Theo, liking to keep us at least a little bit happy to stave off unrest, was happy to supply yarn. The internet supplied more patterns than we could make in a hundred years. Soon several other women took it up. Comparing stiches and patterns, and mutually cursing bungled stitches, gave us things to chat about, and none of us ever lacked for socks. Then dinner, a bit of tine to relax and digest, then off to "work," except for some who had been on the afternoon shift.

**

The first dozen of us on the evening roster dutifully stripped naked and got our high stilettos from our cubicles. Most of us prefer to carry them as we walk barefoot to the showroom, minimising the length of time we would have to wear them.

I was on the first shift. I noticed with some relief that Amanda wasn't among us as we headed down the corridor, although her number might well come up later in the evening as slaves were chosen from the showroom and Theo brought out new ones to replenish the stock.

We were all standing in a row in our usual display positions - ankles in half-metre spreader bars, wrists in leather handcuffs, mouths gagged with microfoam tape, and impaled on dildo posts. I had my number, 17, tattooed just above my left breast, a recent innovation that Theo had brought in to make it easier for clients to identify us if they wanted to ask for a favourite.

I shifted uncomfortably on the dildo pole while I waited to see if a client would choose me tonight. It didn't really hurt, but I've never gotten used to standing around with my legs forced apart and a dildo on a pole shoved all the way into my vagina. If I was chosen soon, I would be closer to getting tonight's session over with, but if I never got chosen at all, which sometimes happens, I could go back to quarters and carry on with the evening, having experienced nothing any more painful or humiliating than what I was already putting up with in the showroom.

As I waited for something to happen, I reflected on how I had ended up in Theo's trap. I had been a salesperson for a high-end adult store that sold all the usual vibrators, sexy lingerie, and other sex aids, but specialized in bondage equipment. No, I never demonstrated any of it personally - I could show a customer how some of the more esoteric items worked without having to put any of them onto or into my body, thanks very much - but I was encouraged to take things home and try them out in private. The used items, even after thorough sanitizing, were never sold to customers, but they were left out as demos so customers could see what they were getting without having to open packaging.

I found I really enjoy being restrained and fucked by a caring and trusted partner. I tried a little pain too - nipple clamps, floggers, and other fairly low-key torture instruments. I decided that they were all right, and added a little extra spice to the adventure, but they really weren't what I was most after in BDSM.

One of my personal favourites was a bondage frame. It knocked down into several sections that could fit neatly in a small suitcase for transport, but when set up it made quite an impressive sight. It was designed to restrain a person on hands and knees, doggy style, and had a metal neck collar and neoprene cuffs for ankles, knees, elbows and wrists attached to a light but sturdy frame made of tube steel.

The day I brought it home, I couldn't wait for Todd, my boyfriend and bondage partner, to get home so we could try it out. I wanted to leave it in its case so I could show Todd how easy it was to set up, but I was getting so wet and horny that I had to set it up, just so I could run my hands over it and admire it. As the pieces unfolded and fit together, they each locked in place with a substantial "click" that assured me that it wouldn't collapse until I pressed the release catches to put it away again.

When Todd opened the door, I threw my arms around him and said, "Wait until you see the new toy I've just brought back from the shop." I almost towed him to the spare room, where we had pushed the guest bed against the wall to make plenty of space for bondage scenes. When he saw the frame, all glittering polished steel and neoprene cuffs, he said, "Wow, you've really outdone yourself."

"Want to try it out?"

"Now? Don't you want dinner first?"

I didn't answer. I was already pulling my clothes off and climbing into the frame. Todd came over, kneeled down, and clicked the collar around my neck, then snugged down all eight cuffs. Everything had a Velcro quick release system so they could be removed in a hurry if the sub started to choke or freak out, but they wouldn't slip unless the sub could somehow reach it with their hands. In the bondage frame, that definitely wasn't going to happen.

I gave some experimental tugs on the restraints. I could wiggle around a little bit, but not more than a few millimetres in any direction. I was totally immobilized until Todd decided to let me go. I sincerely hoped that wouldn't be for quite a while.

Todd didn't take long to get in the spirit of the moment. He loved being a dom as much as I had come to love being a sub. He pulled off his clothes and revealed that his cock was already hard and erect, with a drop of precum already forming on the tip. The frame had an attachment for a dildo, vibrator, or whatever you wanted to position in your partner's various body parts, but Todd left it folded down out of the way. He clearly wanted to use his own body parts to do the job rather than turning me over to a piece of silicon.

There was one final piece required to complete the scene: a gag. I'm not sure exactly why I liked being gagged so much, but somehow bondage without a gag was like a fancy meal without a glass of wine. I think it was the total feeling of having no control, of being unable even to beg or plead, that made the gag so important to me. I knew that Todd would never do anything that would make me want to beg or plead, except in play, but I needed the feeling of being unable to.

He opened a drawer and selected my favourite gag, the finest and most complete silencer I've found yet. It consisted of a big padded stuffer that would hold my tongue firmly down, attached to a wide black leather panel gag that tightened behind the head with Velcro. I opened my mouth and he pushed the stuffer in until it sat securely behind my teeth. It was a bit flatter than a ball gag, and also softer, which meant that I could almost close my jaw with it in place, and it was therefore wearable for a lot longer. However, it was big enough to fill my mouth completely and imprison my tongue on the floor of my mouth. The brochure said, "Definitely not for beginners," and they were right.

The panel part of the gag we wide enough that it had a notch under the nose so it wouldn't cut off airflow. Once Todd had pulled it snug with the Velcro fasteners, the leather was pressed against my lips tightly enough that I had no chance of moving them, and the panel would absorb any sound that got past the stuffer. I felt completely controlled and helpless, unable to make a sound outside of a few pathetic "mmpphh's" through my nose.

Todd watched me thrash uselessly in the frame for a couple of minutes. I think he was taken by its totally restraining power, plus the erotic look of the polished metal frame. I squirmed, so horny that I would have begged him to fuck me then and there if my mouth hadn't been filled with stuffer gag. Then he bent down and started kissing me, first on the back of the neck and then gradually down my sides and back. My arousal built and built the longer he teased me - it was terrible frustration and heaven at the same time. He ran his hands over my breasts, now invitingly dangling from my chest as it was horizontal in my kneeling position, and stoked my nipples between finger and thumb. Then he ran his lips slowly down my asscrack, paused for a short tongue of my asshole, and then went all the way down to the pussy that was invitingly spread for him.

The minute his tongue touched my clit, I was gone. The orgasm that had been building, wave after wave since I'd climbed into the frame, crashed over me like a blue-white tsunami. I arched my back, clenched my fists, and screamed through my nose while it went on and on. Then, spent, I hung still in the frame, getting my breath back through my nose while Todd waited patiently for me to regain my composure.

Then he began to get to work on my pussy for real, using his lips and tongue to stimulate my clit, my labia, and as much of my vagina as he could reach. It didn't take him long to make me cum a second and then a third time.

Finally, he was ready for his cock. My pussy was now glistening wet, and it slid in easily until I could feel his balls pressing against me. He thrust slowly at first, then faster as his own orgasm began to build in harmony with mine. He has good stamina, and managed to hold back until I had been swept away by two more orgasms, each amplified by the sense of utter helplessness that he bondage frame offered. If I had been merely kneeling on the bed, I would have had to brace myself to keep from being propelled closer and closer to the headboard with each thrust, but the collar held me in place, my neck rhythmically pressing against the padded steel without getting hurt.

Finally he grunted, held a stroke at the bottom with his cock all the way in, shuddered a bit, and filled me with his warm cum.

As he pulled out, he grabbed a cloth from the night-table and wadded it against my pussy to keep his juice from pooling on the floor. Then he rolled over on his back and lay for a minute, exhausted. "Holy fuck, Jall. We've had some great times together, but that was unquestionably one of the best fucks we've ever had. Seeing you so securely strapped in that thing was one of the most erotic experiences of my life."

I would have said, "Mine too," but he hadn't unbuckled the gag, so I just made an affirmative-sounding "Uh huh" noise.

We both quickly fell in love with the bondage frame. I often brought home toys from the shop, used them for a few weeks, and then returned them to the demo rack after we got tired of them. But the bondage frame was special. We used it night after night, and it never seemed to get old. Instead of returning it, I used my employee discount and shelled out the rest of its $1299 price tag to keep it in my permanent toy collection.

**

I'm twenty-five now, but at the time I was only twenty-two: not hugely experienced, but still old enough to know better than to do what I did.

There was a guy who used to come into the shop on a regular basis. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, very tall and muscular, but with a gentle voice that exuded both confidence and genuine charm. He liked sex toys and bondage devices, and usually asked me for advice on what was new, what would be interesting, and what was of good quality. He told me he was always willing to pay extra for toys that wouldn't fall apart after having been used a few times, and restraints that would be impossible for a sub to get out of until the dom decided it was time. I noticed him hanging around when I was talking up a device to another customer - he seemed to be sizing up my sales technique.

One day, he took me aside where he wouldn't be overheard by a manager. "T'Jalla," he said, looking at the badge pinned over my right breast. "I'm Theo. I really like your style. You know your sex toys, and I've seen the way you seem to be able to size up a customer and suss out exactly what they might be looking for. You look great, which is always an asset, but it's your confident manner with customers that really gets the job done. I have to be careful when I come in here - you could sell me half the store in a heartbeat."

Of course, I was deeply flattered, but something in his manner told me that he wasn't just buttering me up. He seemed genuinely impressed by my talent for sales.

"I've just bought a sex shop across town. I got it cheap because it's sort of run-down and sleazy-looking, and doesn't have much interesting stock. I need someone to run it who can raise its profile and make it into a high-class shop like this one. I have the money to put into renovations and stock, but not the time to give it the attention it deserves."

He went straight for the clincher. "How would you like to manage your own shop?"

He named a figure that was more than twice what I was making behind the counter here. "I know it sounds high, but I need someone who can take on a lot of responsibility and lead a small team of sales staff. You'd be responsible for finding exciting products - if you've never been to a sex toy trade show, you'd be in for a treat."

I fumbled for words. "Yes, I'm certainly super interested. I'm tired of pushing the same old vibrators and handcuffs - I would love something more challenging."

"Ok then, it's settled. Of course you'll want to have a look at what you'd be dealing with before giving a final 'yes,' but I'm sure you'll see the potential in it just like I did. How about I pick you up tomorrow at your apartment at, say, noon? And by the way, why don't you bring a few of your personal favourite toys. I'll show you the ones I like best, and you can show me yours. It would be a great way to get better acquainted."