Copyright jeanne_d_artois July 2004 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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I thought that James was a pleasant enough man but slightly weird. There was nothing specific. He was just too intense and a fanatic about his work. He is a specialist car mechanic who restores classic cars for people that I think have more money than sense. I can't understand the appeal of driving a car that is slow and dangerous in modern traffic. Some even take their cars on trailers to an event, drive around in a field, then load the car on the trailer, take it back home to put it in a centrally heated garage.
I wouldn't think James was weird if he just made money from the classic car owners. He collects classic cars as well. He has a warehouse with about a dozen cars waiting restoration. Whenever he works on his own cars he doesn't get paid and he doesn't intend to sell them, just keep them.
I know he is a good mechanic. Once I had a problem with my modern car that my garage didn't seem able to find. James took my car for a test drive, identified the problem in minutes and fixed it within an hour. His only fee was that he asked for a date. A good mechanic is worth cultivating when you are a mature student and can't really afford to run the car. I agreed. He took me out for an Indian meal – my choice of venue. I exchanged a goodnight kiss. It wasn't particularly passionate but adequate. I wouldn't have minded a repeat but I wasn't excited by it.
I suppose it is my fault that things went further. I had enjoyed myself. When he wasn't talking about cars he could be entertaining. He told me that he had made a special bed for enjoyment. To me a bed is sometimes a playground but other places are just as suitable. He said that he had made the bed itself and it was special. I was slightly intrigued but not desperate to see it. It is a change from being asked in to see a man's etchings or whatever...
I declined that evening. When my car broke down again James fixed it – again; I agreed to look at this bed of his. 'Look' was all I agreed to. I did offer him a meal, cooked by me. He accepted eagerly and it didn't take much persuasion from him to get me to cook it in his flat, above his garage. I thought that was a better idea than trying to cook the meal in the flat I shared with two other women students. It was difficult to arrange for the flat to be vacant for a whole evening with a man and the favour needed repayment.
So on a Friday evening there I was, standing in the rain on his doorstep, clutching carrier bags full of Tupperware containers of part-prepared meal. James opened the door quickly.
"Hello, Linda, come in." he said.
He took my bags and raincoat. He carried the bags upstairs to the kitchen and I started cooking. The meal went well. I won't go into details. They don't matter. He had provided wine for the meal. Afterwards we sat down in armchairs with cups of coffee. Mine tasted slightly odd. I assumed that it was a brand I wasn't used to. At the time I thought it didn't mix with the wine. When he wasn't looking I poured two-thirds of it into a pot plant. I continued to pretend to drink from an empty cup because I didn't want to offend him by suggesting I didn't like the coffee. Only afterwards did I know that James had put a date-rape drug in my cup. I was feeling slightly disorientated when James suggested looking at his special bed. I didn't think I was drugged, just slightly drunk.
The bed was unusual. Halfway down each side there was a pillar rising from the floor to a height of eight feet. The bed had no legs and was wholly supported on the pillar. At the head and foot of the bed was a low rail with vertical rods every foot. The bed was large, about eight feet long by six feet wide and covered just with a black satin sheet.
James suggested that I lay down on the bed to try it. I kicked off my shoes and clambered on, stretching out in the centre of the bed. It was comfortable except that I felt some puckering under my body. James asked me to reach up to touch the top rail. I suppose the drug was suppressing my suspicions. I extended my arms. He snapped soft-lined cuffs around my wrists. As I opened my mouth to yell he stuffed a silk scarf into it packing my mouth full. He wound another scarf around my head to hold the gag in place. I kicked violently but couldn't reach him.
As I struggled I could feel the drug taking effect. My movements became more difficult like trying to run through chest deep water. Eventually I could barely move my limbs and I sank back on to the bed limp and helpless. I knew and remembered what was happening.
James removed the cuffs and slowly stripped me. Once he had rolled me over to unzip and remove my dress over my head the rest of my clothes followed gently as if he was savouring the peeling of every layer. I remember thinking that if he was going to rape me that I had taken the pill and shouldn't get pregnant. A worry about STDs briefly passed through my befuddled brain.
At last James had completely stripped me. He slid the satin sheet out from under me before putting my wrists back in the cuffs connected to the head of the bed. I felt similar cuffs around my ankles. The restraints weren't tight and if I had control of my limbs I would have been able to move arms and legs about six inches.
Whatever it was that had been puckering the bed was now digging into my back. James rolled me to one side and pulled at something. He repeated on the other side before climbing on to the bed next to me. He pushed a pillow under my head so that I could look down my body.
"You might enjoy this, Linda," He said in a conversational tone, as if drugging and binding a woman was a normal part of life.
He pulled the somethings together across my body. They became a corset or harness with eyelets for lacing. He dragged the sides together and laced them tightly, yanking hard on the lacing so that I was very firmly encased. He lifted wide shoulder straps down to meet the corset and adjusted them to push my body down the bed.
I was restrained yet he hadn't done anything remotely sexual. That changed. He held a vibrator in front of my eyes. I could see the tip but not its base.
"This is for you," he said, smiling.
He plastered it in jelly and slowly pushed it into my ass. I screamed into my gag as it penetrated. My scream was rage, not pain. I was not an ass-virgin and I admit that between the wine, the drug and the gentle touches I had become aroused.
Another dildo was slowly pushed into my vagina. Somehow the two were connected to a padded base plate shaped to fit between my legs. I yelled again with no effect as a Y-shaped part of the corset pulled the base plate tight and connected by long thick straps to the top rail of the bed. The shoulder straps were hooked to those thicker ones.
"Nearly done, Linda, then you can experience the beauty of this special bed."
He took the gag out of my mouth. I was unable to resist as he replaced it with a short prick shaped gag harnessed around my lower head.
He stood back from me as if admiring his handiwork. He picked up a remote control.
"Oops, sorry Linda, you don't need the pillow any more."
He pulled the pillow away. My head thumped back on to the bed.
"Up you go," James said, pressing the remote.
The bed rose up into the air until it stopped about five feet from the floor. The two pillars were like those used when servicing cars. I could just see James standing beside the bed as he pressed the remote again. The foot of the bed sank downwards and the head lifted, pivoted on those pillars. It continued to move until the mattress was vertical.
My body weight sagged into the Y-shaped harness pushing the twin dildos deep into me. My arms were not taking any of my weight. The Y-straps, the corset and the shoulder straps supported everything.
"Now the fun begins."
James put down the remote and reached between my legs. He switched both vibrators on. They began to pulse in unison and expand their width. He reached up to my mouth. The fake penis also started pulsing and growing. All three were synchronised.
Despite my helpless rage at being treated like a plastic doll for his experimentation I couldn't stop myself being aroused. I was penetrated in three places at once and the co-ordinated thrusting was raising me to a peak of orgasm. James was watching me as if I was an animal in a zoo. My irritation was insufficient to prevent my first orgasm. I shut my eyes as waves of pleasure pulsed through my body again and again. The mechanical thrusters were pitiless. They didn't stop even when I was exhausted by the intensity of the sensations I was experiencing. I opened my eyes to plead, to beg, to do anything to stop the devices piercing me.
James just looked at me. I tried to move my arms and legs to signal that I had undergone enough. Nothing moved. I closed my eyes again and gritted my teeth. I had passed beyond pleasure into pain and humiliation. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
It seemed ages before he switched the vibrators off. I felt sore, dry and used. I opened my eyes to see him press the remote control again. The bed began to turn until I was facing the floor, hanging in the corset. My weight flattened my breasts. My arms and legs flopped until held by the cuffs on wrists and ankles. James made the bed lift up until I was about six feet above the ground, legs and arms dangling.
He walked under me and removed the baseplate between my legs then the dildos in my ass and vagina. He pulled them out gently yet I felt as if my skin was tearing. He reached up and loosened the corset over my breasts. They hung down towards the floor. His hands took each of them, cupped them, stroked and squeezed. His lips covered one of my nipples before sucking more of that breast into his mouth. A hand moved between my legs and fingers and tried to penetrate inside my sore lips. The resistance must have made him think. His mouth left my breast dangling. I watched uncomprehending as he walked away.
He returned to ease my pain with some soothing ointment around my lower lips and asshole. As the soreness faded I passed out still dangling from the inverted bed.
I woke next morning to find myself fully dressed on the settee covered by a sheet and blanket. My shoes were on the floor. I had to adjust my bra and pantyhose but otherwise it might have seemed that I had slept all night on the settee and never encountered James' mechanical bed. I knew I had. I remembered everything. If I had drunk all the coffee I shouldn't have been aware that anything had happened. Should I admit that I did know? The soreness between my legs was still tender, a reminder of those thrusting dildos. As I thought back I felt more and more angry. I wanted revenge for my humiliation. What could I do?
James brought me a cup of coffee. I sipped gingerly. This cup tasted normal. I needed several cups, each one approached with caution, before I felt really human again. He apologised for giving me too much wine. He was sorry I hadn't seen his bed. Could we meet again, this time so that I could stay to see the bed?
