*Hi guys.
Hope everyone is okay and continuing to enjoy the story so far.
This chapter (double digits :)!) has taken a bit longer than originally anticipated, my apologies for that.
Thanks for all the reads/comments/votes/feedback for the last chapter.
Ch. 11 (Insomnia) is now being penned.*
The dynamic seems to have shifted again within my former household.
Tom and Linda, who are still madly in love and completely besotted with one another, have put a lot of thought into implementing improvements to the way they 'look after me'. I'm starting to feel suffocated by the plethora of restrictions I'm now subjected to.
I noticed an abundance of changes after Linda's mother and stepfather visited, and I can't shake the feeling that Wendy, Linda's overbearing, fork-tongued mother had a hand in at least some of the new ideas.
At one point during the visit, Linda had taken her on a tour of the house, and during that time, they'd seemed to have spoken at length about my imprisonment. As much as I'd naively hoped for an outpouring of sympathy from Linda's parents, maybe even an intervention on my behalf, the opposite had happened.
During their visit, Wendy had made it unmistakably clear that she despised me. I'd been perplexed and angered in equal measure by her unjustified contempt and had strongly objected to Tom and Linda's allowing her to actively participate in punishing me. It'd crossed a figurative line in my head and reinforced that I'm totally alone in my resistance against my situation and oppressors.
Though the tightening of control has introduced new challenges for me, a small part of me has taken pride in seeing Tom and Linda moved into taking further preventative steps. I'm quietly confident that my recent attempts to escape captivity have worried them. Though my efforts were both ultimately scuppered, their actions to prevent another try, demonstrates their fear over what could have happened if I had succeeded.
They've come to realise that when another chance presents itself for me to get away, I'll take it without hesitation. They'd never admit as much of course, and insist that my situation is inescapable.
I remain vigilant in looking for opportunities, though haven't found one since my last attempt.
Since her parents' visit, Linda has become fixated on the idea of 'taking me out' in public. She and Tom have been talking about it incessantly.
Linda's main motivation to present me to the world undoubtedly stems from a desire to publicly humiliate me, however there's now an added incentive to prove her mother wrong. Wendy had, after all, been very vocal in her objection to the idea. Perhaps if she hadn't pushed so hard, Linda might not be so determined to push back.
A few weeks ago, in preparation for my public debut, Linda began collaborating with a bondage company she'd found online.
The communications started with emails, which developed to phone calls and then eventually face to face meetings. She enlisted the company to produce something she and Tom refer to as 'control pants'.
Procuring them had been a laborious process and I can personally testify that they're an awful contraption.
After convincing the bondage company of a more socially acceptable version of our living arrangements, Tom and Linda had arranged for company representatives to visit the house to 'measure' me. They were insistent upon a custom-made device to serve their nefarious purposes.
For the 'fitting', they'd had me stand naked in the lounge, in front of two complete strangers, who'd assumed me to be the consenting masochist of an atypical relationship. I'd been gagged, to prevent me from debunking their stories. After some wildly embellished chitchat about my rent-free lodging with them in exchange for devotedly serving them, I'd been subjected to having haberdashery tape run up, down and across my crotch, measuring every imaginable dimension of my pussy.
The company representatives had spoken proudly of their family run business, while collecting their measurements. They'd offered repeated assurances that their product would help keep me submissive during 'sex games'.
Linda and Tom had seemed to delight in watching the procedure, talking of their great desire to provide me with satisfaction when the occasion called for it. Every word of the spiel had been lies.
A week later, the same company representatives had returned to the house to present the finished product.
They'd been visibly proud as they'd presented a remote-controlled pair of knickers, with an enhanced strength vibration plate built into the crotch of them. They'd claimed that the vibrations would rival those offered by any mains powered wand.
Customer satisfaction had been of the upmost importance to them, and they'd prompted Tom and Linda to try them out, which of course, I'd had no say in.
The representatives had fitted the pants onto me, touching me more intimately than I'd been comfortable with, before handing Tom and Linda the remote and nodding encouragingly. After an initial period of testing the controls, which'd led me to twitch and moan uncontrollably on the spot for a few minutes, I'd been made to walk around the house to test the wireless range of them.
Tom had been in control of the remote, while Linda had escorted me around the house, increasing the distance between the pants and the controller. We'd made it as far as the upstairs bathroom before the pants stopped receiving signals from downstairs.
Once inside the bathroom, and out of earshot, Linda had gleefully informed me that I'd be made to wear the pants at all times when in public. She'd boasted that at the slightest sign of disobedience, she and Tom wouldn't hesitate to increase the vibrations up to full and force me into a garbling, trembling mess.
On our way back down the stairs, prior to writing a cheque to the company for services rendered, she'd taunted me with her excitement over the idea of forcing me to publicly orgasm. She'd spoken proudly about how such a display would surely convince people of my obvious 'mental instability'.
Though we've not yet been out in public, I'm fully expecting that reasons will be found to intensify the vibrations sporadically, for their own enjoyment, rather than for behaviour modification.
As well as making preparations to take me out of the house and humiliate me further, Tom and Linda have also made a few changes within the house for me. Tom has become neurotic about keeping doors locked and ensuring that any keys are kept out of my sight.
There's been a noticeable increase in hushed conversations between them, which they always utter quietly when I'm within earshot. I'm used to their exclusion of me now, but the urgency of their secretive talks, usually after receiving the morning post, leaves me with a foreboding that something important is going to happen soon. I'm confident it'll be nothing to benefit me and expect the subject relates to the divorce they're trying to push through. I only know of their plans because of Wendy's malice in choosing to disclose it during her visit.
When they're not plotting between themselves, Tom and Linda continue to fuck insatiably around the house.
I'd have expected the honeymoon period of their relationship to have worn off by now, but they still struggle to control their lust for each other. I sometimes wonder if I serve as some sort of unwitting aphrodisiac for them both, as they can progress from strapping me onto the dining table, to being completely rampant within fifteen minutes of starting vibrations on me.
Linda hasn't tired of reminding me how much Tom loves fucking her. She loves riling him up in front of me, teasing his cock to painful hardness before taunting me about how he never reacted in the same way to me throughout our marriage.
Tom recently made the somewhat catastrophic mistake of enlightening Linda to my occasional enjoyment for anal play. When I say catastrophic, I of course mean for me.
During our marriage, I never enjoyed anal sex, but confess to sometimes having enjoyed one of Tom's fingers gently teasing the opening of my arsehole. Linda happily took the information on board, smug at having discovered another way to torture me and had insisted on Tom demonstrating his method to her.
They'd made a ceremony of it, tying me face down onto the dining table, with my arse on crude display. Linda had observed Tom's technique, watching his finger delicately stimulating my sphincter, before keenly trying it herself. She'd moved very slowly, verbally tormenting me as she'd done it, easing one of her manicured fingers against the entrance of my arsehole and mimicking Tom's strokes, until my tense disposition had been replaced by whimpered moaning. She'd continued to tease, torturing long past my begs and pleas for her to stop, until I'd succumbed to a climax of sorts.
During a later iteration of her 'mastering the skill', she'd experimented with advancing her finger a little further, penetrating my arsehole until she'd felt me wincing and trying to recoil.
She'd mocked me cruelly and added it to her list of superiorities over me. She'd smugly commented that Tom is an avid anal enthusiast and informed me that they regularly partook in mutually enjoyed anal sex together as a couple.
To prove her point, that very night, they'd fastened me onto the chair directly facing their bed, affixed the wand against me and made me watch him fucking her up the arse.
I knew they'd planned the whole thing, as during the display, Tom had been unusually vocal, moaning gutturally about how tight and perfect Linda's arse felt around his cock and his luck to be with such a perfect woman.
He'd slowed mid thrust to voice his disappointment in his marriage to me, because after finding I didn't enjoy anal sex, I'd refused to even try taking his cock up my arse again.
He'd gradually slid himself in and out of Linda's, savouring the feel of her tight hole stretching open around his girth as he'd fucked it.
He'd pointedly made comparison between Linda and my arseholes, comparing the view of hers to my own, complimenting her sculpturally curved hips and flawless pert cheeks favourably against my 'pasty, flabby, cellulite ridden rear'.
Linda had moaned pleasurably with every insult he'd issued over to me. Fortunately, my feelings of degradation and inadequacy hadn't lasted long, as the wand had non-consentingly stirred me to orgasm explosively only minutes later.
"Right Gabby," Tom booms as he enters the kitchen. "The day has arrived."
I look up at him bleakly. Though his tone is enthusiastic, the sentiment of his words is daunting.
"Linda and I are finally taking you out," he informs me, in a non-negotiable manner.
I find the prospect unnerving. I don't want to go out anywhere with them.
I think back to Linda's painstaking selection of clothes for me this morning. Like every morning, my clothing is wholly unflattering, but today, I sensed a deeper deliberation over her choosing. Her reasoning for this becomes clear as I realise what they've got planned.
"Don't just sit there gormlessly Gabby," Tom instructs, tearing me from my dread. "Get those trousers off. We need to get your control pants on. Given how many times you've tried to find a way out of the house, I expected you to be more enthusiastic about this."
I don't know what could have given him this deluded idea.
My subtle display of reluctance doesn't go unnoticed, and his tone becomes sharper.
