Green Door, The · Part 2

Green Door, The · Part 2 (2/2)
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t it was that he understood so well. The warm electricity spread quickly up from her groin. It was Tara. Her tongue more specifically, and her lips.

They sought and found the most sensitive part of her, the center of her universe, the Alpha-Omega of her existence. Tara's hands caressed each breast and the circuit was complete. She had heard women talk about it. She had read articles and listened attentively to Dr. Ruth explain the physical/emotional factors governing the experience. She had talked to Bill at least five thousand times about it, or the lack of it. He tried to understand at first, but quickly became disinterested and finally very defensive. She even attended a seminar. Nothing had prepared her. Not even her own furtive self manipulations. She stepped to a new echelon, the proverbial pinnacle.

She had gained the summit of summits. Every nerve of every fiber of every sensory channel in her body filled beyond any capacity she had ever dreamt of. All driven by the tiny nuclear pile just above her urethra. She wondered if it might kill her where she stood. Impaled as she was with her legs locked in a three foot stance and her mouth filled with a rubber ball. She didn't care. It would be a very nice way to shed this lifetime. She let her body do as it willed. She really had no options. She screamed against her gag, disregarding Robert's admonishment about dribbling. She strained against the dildo to gain a millimeter's width toward Tara's mouth, the God of this fantastic genesis.

Her vagina sprang to life, seeking to crush its occupant.

Failing, it tried again and again. Betsy forgot about the cuffs on her wrist and attempted to reach around to grasp Tara's head. Even the resulting pain in her wrists felt wonderful. her clenched eyelids became a screen. Three dimension, full color, stereo hi-fidelity sound ebbing and flowing to the rest of the experience. She guessed that it lasted days, or perhaps minutes, perhaps weeks.

Einsteinian space/time lost all significance. This was a whole new continuum. She didn't remember Robert holding her up. Or he and Tara gently removing her from the pole and placing her gently on the bed. She was in Otherwheres and Elsewhens. A cosmic mote blown by the solar wind. She slept the sleep of the utterly exhausted.

Betsy awoke from a dreamless sleep. The initial moment of disorientation surrendered to the memory of her passion and joy. She was in a different room, smaller and like all the others she'd seen, without windows. She was curious about the lack of them, among many other things. The sheet covering her was silk and smelled of jasmine. The sourceless light was low and held the same amber color of the first room she'd entered here. How long ago was that? How long had she been sleeping? Where was this experience leading, and why had it begun? What was it that drew her to Robert and Tara? How had they been able to manipulate her so efficiently? A lot of questions and absolutely no answers.

She thought back to her decision to spend some time out of town. To get away from her disappointment in Bill, and in herself for letting a relationship[line deleated] dissolve. This retreat had been highly recommended by several people on Compuserve. She wondered now if there hadn't been an ulterior motive to their recommendation. "Jesus, here I am imagining a conspiracy. Time to get a grip on myself, and get some answers."

Since her awakening she had laid completely still, feeling very warm and perfectly comfortable. Now she needed to find a bathroom. Another surprise greeted her as she sat up to get a better look at her room. She was clinking! Throwing back the sheet revealed the source of the sound. She was completely nude save for a set of tailored chains. The one inch links were welded and chrome plated. The two foot length connecting her wrists terminated at each end with a stainless steel manacle. She admired the workmanship. Both manacles were nearly form fitting.

She could barely squeeze her index finger underneath them, yet they were so well shaped and their one and a half inch width flared outward slightly that she was able to move her wrists freely, or very nearly. Nothing so garish as a padlock secured them. They were held closed by a steel rivet through the hole in the hasp at the top of her wrist. A second length of chain descended from the center of the length at her wrists and through a welded ring attached to the stainless steel belt around her waist. The belt was constructed of two half ellipses. A hasp and rivet secured it at the left and right. Additional rings adorned the belt in front and back.

The second chain continued downward to its end at a third length that connected her legs at the knee. These manacles were form fitted as well and made their home just below the knee joint. As she stood and took her first step she realized Robert's sardonic sense of humor was at work. The length of the chain at her knees just barely prevented her from taking a normal stride. A second doorway across from her bed opened to a bathroom. The medicine chest was well stocked, including a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, aspirin, etc. A hairbrush lay on the counter near the sink. She made use of it gladly.

The 25 year old woman staring back at her from the mirror was more that slightly tussled from her recent adventures. She considered the shower stall. It too was well stocked. Soap, expensive shampoo and rinse, thick cotton towels. The chains would make it a bit awkward, but it she couldn't go another minute without a shower! Thankfully the length of chain connecting her wrists to her knees could slide through the ring on the waist belt. By crouching a bit and bending at the waist she was able to get her hands up high enough to wash her hair.

She hated nothing more in this world than to have the pride and joy that was her thick natural auburn hair that now reached easily to the center of her back to be in any way soiled. She had been that way since an early age. Her mother would have to coax her out of the bath rather than into it and she had always taken joy in maintaining a body that both men and women had admired all her life. She had been spared the trauma of pimples as a teenager and she believed her cleansing rituals were a major factor. She felt a thousand percent better when the emerged from the bathroom, but hungry. She attributed the odor of toast and coffee in her bedroom to imagination. When had she eaten last?

The memory of Robert's contribution on to her nutrition flashed up. Reflexively her hand sought out her sex and her eyelids dipped in reverie. The odor of breakfast was stronger now. She noticed a vent near the ceiling on the far wall. Yes, the smell was stronger here. Somewhere food was cooking and she decided to find where. The door to her bedroom was locked. The hallway lead in two directions. The door at the right end was locked. The door at the other end wasn't. It lead to sixty foot circular atrium. The walls her stacked granite boulders, mostly overgrown with ivy, and rose a full twenty feet to support a geodesic glass dome. A fig tree occupied the center of the room.

The reddish morning light glowed from the ripe figs. Betsy couldn't help herself. She promptly picked a low hanging fruit, (her chains allowed her to raise her hands only to the height of her breasts) and began eating greedily. She found a second fruit within reach and picked it as well. She examined the room as she ate. The granite and ivy made the room pleasantly and naturally cool. The earthy scent of the ivy brought back a memory from childhood. laughing and screaming she and her friends would roll in the ivy fronting the library in the early days of summer. It was where she first kissed a boy. He wasn't expecting it at all. Poor Peter, he didn't know what to do. She was elated.

She was elated now. She curled up against the cool/sweet granite and serenely ate her stolen fruits. Her questions and concerns were forgotten. Any introspection on Betsy's part would have given her pause. There she sat, locked in steel manacles, less than eighteen hours after her first orgasm, (and induced by a woman at that!) completely nude save for the chrome chain, eating figs in an atrium. Definitely not the way she had planned on spending her summer vacation. She watched the cotton ball clouds pass across the hemisphere of the dome as the morning light edged toward gold. "Good morning Idyll!"

It was Robert. He wore a thigh length silk robe. Betsy liked his legs. She looked to him, then away, suddenly feeling shy. She licked the remnants of fig from her fingers and studied the terra-cotta floor. "You've stolen my figs."

Betsy glanced up. A smile, like the one yesterday, replaced the sardonic grin. "Forgive me…. Master."

This time she was the one grinning. Robert walked to her and stood in the spot on the floor she gazed at. "Fig stealing is a serious offense. But you are so incredibly, starkly beautiful sitting there…"

Betsy leaned forward and caressed his calves, letting her cheek press against the hem of his robe. He ran his hand through her still damp hair. Her hands rose to the limit of their chain reveling to the feel of the firm muscle beneath the smooth skin. She grew excited kneeling there. Robert's breathing, deep and rhythmic, rose slowly above the quiet clink of chain. His hands held her head against him. She felt the beautifully sculpted shaft that was his passion force the silk against her face. Now he knelt down to face her. He wiped a bit of fig from her lip. His hands were hot and soft on her face. "You've captured me haven't you?"

A second of irony gave way to a glimmer of understanding in Betsy. But it was fleeting and temporal. They kissed. He pulled her gently to the floor. She lay on her side. A cloud crossed the sun as he entered her. She thought that somehow fitting. He murmured to her. She had never known a man to be so intensely gentle, so responsive to her body. It was as if he truly shared it with her. His only wish was to give her pleasure. Two as one nestled like spoons. Laying there on the terra-cotta floor of the atrium she experienced the second orgasm of her life. Tara semed in a pensive mood during breakfast, making only the minimum replies to Robert's small talk.

Betsy was content to listen and watch the way his mouth moved when he spoke. He had a lovely mouth. So did Tara. I occurred to her as they sat there eating breakfast together on a sunfilled deck some time in the late morning on some day of the year somewhere in the world, that they all looked like an animated version of a photograph in Sunset Magazine. She smiled to herself as she tried to imagine how her set of chains might fit into the caption. She reveled in feeling the passing of moments unconnected by any significance. She was in her element and out of it at the same time. The deck looked out on a large park like setting.

Old growth oak, birch, poplar and holly juxtaposed among morning glory and ferns. Robert had stopped talking. He had returned to reading a copy of Faust. Tara had finished her cursory perusal of the New Yorker and chin in hand, stared out toward the park. She turned to Betsy quickly with a bit of a glimmer in her eye. "Do you like blueberries, Betsy?"

"Very much."

"There's a big bush full of them just over that hill."

Tara pointed straight out the sliding glass door. The ground did rise noticeably. Betsy could make out what seemed to be a path leading to it. It must have been over half a mile away. "Do you want me to go pick some?"

"We'll both go. But you'll need some shoes. I'll be right back."

Robert watched Tara leave, then smiled at Betsy. "Shoes. I can just imagine what they'll be."

Robert's grin grew broader. "No, you can't, Elizabeth. Not at all."

Tara was not gone long. She returned with a Gucci shoe box and handed it to Betsy. "I hope they fit, dear."

The first thing Betsy noticed about the box was its weight. It must have been over five pounds. She removed the top and for a moment had absolutely no idea what she was looking at, except that they were metal. "Well, they seem to go with my outfit, what ever they are."

Tara took the box. "Here, I'll show you."

Tara took one of the twin objects from the box, and in a manner very reminiscent of a shoe clerk bent down to fit Betsy's foot. The objects truly bore little resemblance to a shoe as such. The were made of steel. The body of each was comprised of a piece six inches high and one inch thick. One side was straight and ended at a right angle. The other side was curved to the contours of the foot's natural arch when the heel is raised and the ball of the foot is on the floor. That was the sole intent of the "shoe", to raise the heel to such a height as to put the instep perpendicular to the floor.

They were held in place my a hinged steel band that fastened around the instep and secured by a hasp like to ones on Betsy's wrists. The "sole" of the shoe was made of a quarter inch steel plate welded to the arch port. Apparently, Betsy thought, some care had been taken in shaping the band that surrounded her instep. It was very snug, but didn't pinch or bind. The last feature of the she was a metal ring welded to the sole plate. It was just large enough for her big toe to fit into. It prevented her from rotating her foot side to side, and once the instep band was secured helped make them impossible to remove. Tara locked each into place with a hand rivet gun then stood back. "Stand up."

Betsy rose carefully. She felt a bit like an acrobat trying to balance. Her heel was now raised the maximum possible distance from the floor, Her big toe sat at a right angle to her instep. A very strange feeling. She had to bend a bit at the knee to keep from falling forward. "I don't know about this Tara."

"Well they look fantastic, don't they Robert?"

"Very nice work. You've succeeded."

"Nice of you to admit it."

"Have I missed something?"

Robert explained patiently, "Those shoes are the result of a conversation Tara and I had about a week ago. She was saying that anything could be reduced to a functional essence or simplicity. The simpler the form, the more powerful. It's concentrated that way. Isn't that right Tara?"

She nodded. Robert continued. "In a subtle way it's a study in power and control. As our whole experience here has been. Power and the control of power. The same thing Faust was seeking. He wasn't really interested in God at all. He wanted power and the ability to control it. He wanted the upper hand. The fact that Mephisto was the only one to come through for him was Goethe's way of being sarcastic and pious at the same time. We're taught from the time we learn to crawl that power is bad, dangerous and harmful you see? It's the grand illusion, and a way to gain power over another. If you want to control someone, just convince them that power is naughty. From there on out you got them in a bag."

Betsy thought on this for a moment. She looked from Tara to Robert then at herself standing there as she was, ostensibly enslaved. She recalled Robert's earlier remark about her capturing him. The concept began to firm up in her mind, but it was like trying to pick up a tomato seed. "C'mon dear, lets go pick berries."

Betsy began to get the hang of her new shoes by the time she and Tara reached the door leading to the park. It stood immediately below the deck at ground level. Tara stopped suddenly, "I think I'd rather ride. Wait right here–I'll be back in a jiffy."

Tara hurried back through the door. Betsy took the opportunity to rest against a granite boulder nearby. The shoes didn't hurt, but the bones and tendons in her feet and legs weren't used to their extreme position. The late morning was so beautiful. Hundreds of birds contributed to the collective chorus. The breeze was light and warm and scented with jasmine. Betsy thought about Robert's little monologue. There was a simple, essential concept behind his remarks but he was leaving it to her to discover. She had read Faust in college, but never attached much significance to what she believed to be the work of a neurotic German. Thinking back on the story now she could see Robert's point.

It did revolve around power. Yes pawer and control, and something else, something that brought it all together. Tara returned in a new outfit. Betsy was honestly shocked. Tara wore nothing but a pair of chaps! She carried a large armful of leather contraptions and straps. "Here we are dear."

Tara was full of mischief. "Turn around."

Betsy obeyed but looked over her shoulder. Tara dropped her load on the ground and picked out the largest item. It bore a vague resemblance to a saddle, but closer to human proportions. The broadest part of the saddle was placed against Betsy's back. The opposite side was shaped roughly like a contoured stool seat. Stirrups hung from each side. Betsy turned away as Tara threw the first strap over her shoulder.

"Hold on just a minute Tara. This is too much."

"Look Betsy, this can be easy or this can be difficult. It's up to you."

"You can't be serious. I'm not a damn horse."

Tara stepped close to Betsy's face and spoke intently. "You my dear, are any damn thing I want you to be. This is lesson two. Removal of options."

With her final sentence Tara placed a booted foot on the chain connecting Betsy's knees. Betsy promptly assumed a kneeling position. Tara buckled the "saddle" onto Betsy's back. Two straps went over her shoulders. Like a backpack. A third buckled just below her breasts. A fourth just above her steel belt, and a fifth pulled the shoulder straps closer together across her breasts. Next Tara padlocked Betsy's wrist chain to the ring on the steel belt. Now she couldn't reach the buckles. The excess chain leading down was pulled up through Betsy's crotch and locked to a ring at the back of the belt. "This isn't going to work, Tara."

Tara made no reply. Instead she placed a steel bit between Betsy's teeth. It buckled behind her head. Another "Y" shaped strap came up from each side of the bit-bar to a ring just above the bridge of Betsy's nose. A third strap at the top of that ring went over the top of her head and buckled to the one holding the bit in place. Leather reins hung from each side of the bit-bar. "I think we're ready for a ride now dear. Hold still."

Carefully Tara mounted the seat that protruded at a right angle from the base strapped to Betsy's back. Betsy was surprised at how evenly the weight seemed distributed. The fact that Tara only weighed one hundred and five pounds helped too. Tara placed a boot in each stirrup and settled herself in the saddle. "Get up! Let's go."

Betsy hesitated a little too long for Tara's mood. She felt Tara last toy before she saw it. The tip of a quirt landed on her left thigh. Betsy rose unsteadily. The additional weight made itself know on her feet immediately. Tara pulled the reins to point her in the direction on the path. It looked a hundred miles long to Betsy now.

"Giddyap!"

Again the quirt slapped her thigh. Just enough to be annoying. Betsy had no choice but to begin her trek. Tara's remark about loss of options became quite clear now. At that point Betsy would have liked nothing better that to use that damned quirt on her. Betsy leaned forward and began moving slowly up the path. Despite her predicament the chain through her crotch began to work its magic. By the time they had gone one hundred yards she was breathing harder from excitement than from exertion. Tara must have sensed something. She dropped the reins and reached around to grasp Betsy's nipples between thumb and forefinger. Betsy halted and moaned. Now Tara made use of her booted feet to goad Betsy forward. She leaned forward to whisper in Betsy's ear. "C'mon horsey, just a little farther. Good horsey, keep going, don't stop."

Somehow she managed to continue. The path curved ten yards ahead. Tara pulled on the corresponding nipple to guide Betsy toward it. They reached the edge and Betsy fell to her knees. Tara dismounted and stood before the girl. She ran a hand through the auburn hair. "I should have given you a pony tail."

Betsy pressed her face against the leather chaps and reveled in the scent. Tara unbuckled the bit straps, letting it fall to the grass. "You are so God damned beautiful Betsy. I get wet just looking at you. And I'm not gay either."

Betsy looked uo to the woman with a start. Their eyes met. Betsy smiled. Soon they were both in the throws of laughter. Tara knelt to face Betsy. The glow of friendship touched them both. "You understand now don't you?"

"I understand. Thank you."

Tara allowed Betsy to walk back to the house unridden. The saddle was removed upon their return, and Betsy was led to a room she hadn't seen before. The ceiling rose twenty feet to a domed skylight. White marble covered each wall, but was visible only above the ten foot high bookshelves that surrounded the room. The titles ranged from mathematics to philosophy to science fiction to classic literature. A grey marble desk dominated the room with its twelve feet by six austerely reflected in the black marble floor. Betsy's shoes rang out brightly as she paced along the books. Robert entered at the opposite end of the room through a door concealed by the marble. He was able to slip into the glove leather executive chair without Betsy noticing. She turned sharply at the sound of his voice, nearly losing her balance on the slick marble. "So, you think you've learned something."

"Yes."

"Come over here where I can see you better.", he pointed to a spot a few feet in front of the desk. She covered the distance gingerly as her shoes afforded little traction. Robert examined Betsy while she studied the swirls of the marble floor at her feet. He like what he saw very much. Her deportment contained much dignity considering the chains and manacles on her wrists, knees and waist. Her balance had improved since her walk Tara's diabolical "shoes" complemented Betsy's slim ankles and excellent legs perfectly. "So tell me what you've learned.", he sank back in the chair, gently interlacing his fingers. He reminded Betsy of a school principal, albeit a rather kinky one. "It's hard to explain."

"Do your best, but do it now."

She regarded Robert. "I've learned that I'm a source of power and control."

"Go on."

"Go on?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the grey marble, "You seem determined to drag this thing out. Assuming you have indeed learned something, you need some incentive to explain it. Kneel."

The unyielding marble made an immediate impact on her manacled knees. She couldn't stay that way long. "Now, go on."

She smiled up at him, "It revolves around appearances. By appearance I am subjugated, and you are the one with power. In reality it's the reverse. I've seen the way you've looked at me, with respect, even awe. I felt it when you made love to me. I'd never experienced that before… It took me by surprise. I gain power by submitting, by the effect I create on you… Tara too."

Robert smiled down at her. "Arise, oh learned one. It's nice to know my efforts haven't been wasted. Heaven knows they have been in the past."

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint you."

"There is one more thing to accomplish, if you want to graduate."

Tara didn't hear Betsy enter the bathroom, partly due to the fact that the shower was running, and partly due to the fact Betsy no longer clinked or clicked. For the first time in over forty eight hours Betsy was wearing clothes and enjoying full freedom of movement. Quietly, Betsy laid out the contents of her arms on the counter. Her supplies consisted of a tapered leather "glove" two and a half feet long. The narrow end was sealed. The wide end was open and straps were attached at each end of the opening. A leather gag and an assortment of straps completed her kit. Betsy waited patiently while Tara finished her shower. Finally the water was shut off.

Betsy backed further against the wall, a two foot leather strap in her hand. Robert told her Tara liked to struggle, so Betsy hoped the element of surprise would work in her favor. The glass door of the shower enclosure opened suddenly toward Betsy. Tara stepped out and reached for the robe hanging from the hook opposite Betsy's hiding place. Betsy pounced. In one swift movement she pinned Tara against the wall. "What the hell?"

"The worm turns, Tara dear."

Tara's struggles made no progress against Betsy's full weight pressing her against the wall. Betsy pulled first one arm then the other behind Tara's back. The strap pulled them together above the elbow. Betsy held Tara by the dripping hair with one hand and grabbed the "glove" with the other. Slipping onto Tara's arms was quite easy. The straps criss-crossed over her breasts and buckled securely under her armpits. Three more straps attached laterally along the glove. One above the elbows, one below, and a third just above the wrists. Betsy cinched these as far as she could. Tara's elbows touched within their leather confines. The gag was next. She held it up to Tara's gaze.

"Forget it Betsy."

"Oh come now, be a good girl."

Tara turned her face to the wall. "Fuck you, dear."

With no hesitation, Betsy spun Tara around, back to the wall, and smiling grabbed a handful of her dark pubic hair. The leather pear slipped easily into Tara's mouth. The tapering strap was just narrow enough in front to let Tara's lovely lips protrude over the top and bottom. She moved Tara to face the mirror. Betsy wiped the steam away with her hand. "Now tell me you don't look lovely." Tara didn't say a word. Betsy placed a wide strap around Tara's waist. A second strap hung from the back of the waist strap, which was threaded through Tara's crotch and buckled firmly in front. A leash was attached above Tara's mound, and she was led to Robert in this fashion.

Robert still sat behind his desk. He looked up from his book when the two women entered. "Tara, is that a new outfit?"

"See, I told you he'd like it. Now kneel for him."

Tara shook her head adamantly. resorting to the pubic hair again, Betsy coaxed her into a kneeling position. She treaded a long strap through the back of Tara's gag and secured it to a strap at her ankles. Another strap went through the ring at the base of the glove and then around her knees. Tara knelt obediently, her face toward the ceiling.

Robert came around the front of the desk. "This is quite an occasion, isn't it, Tara? How long has it been since we've had an advanced graduate? A long time. I know it's been along time because I can't remember the last time I've seen you like this, Tara my love." Robert bent down and kissed her.

Green Door, The · Part 2 (2/2)
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