Twenty Minutes · Part 2

Twenty Minutes · Part 2 (2/2)
Previous

"Let's finish you off with this one," he says. This last strap pinches more than the others.

"Ow," I say in protest, but I feel the strap being buckled snuggly anyway. He backs away and watches as I pull myself up straight and turn to stop him checking out my bare ass cheeks. I turn to face him, and observe that maybe he's enjoying this a little too much.

"Happy now?" I say, with equal parts protest and sarcasm.

"Sarah – come on. I know it's uncomfortable, but it's part of the process."

After a pause l say, "Look OK. I'm sorry, OK? I haven't been bound like this before is all."

"And that's FINE!" he says, "but you're just making it difficult, OK? I hate to be pushy but I've got other stuff to get through today."

I cast my eyes down, and see my breasts now bursting forward. The struggle has given me a pair of very obviously erect nipples, displaying proudly for Henry's viewing pleasure. Aware of his eyes on me, I'm taken aback that I feel myself becoming a little moist. The tense interaction makes me want to cover myself somehow.

Looking down I try to see if my thong front is starting to get hitched up into my labia, but it's getting difficult to see anything below my newly expanded chest. I sigh loudly.

"Look, that's about as close as I can get them for now," he says (He's talking about my elbows again).

"Now we're going to have to crank you up a little to encourage a bit of a stretch in those shoulders," he says, disappearing off into a store room.

This must be the stretching Gretta was talking about. I think I was picturing something more yoga-like! I never dreamed I'd be doing stretches dressed like this!

I'm glad of the fleeting privacy, but I don't really know what to do with myself. My bound arms feel almost like a rope – a useless heavy rope – dangling stiffly behind me.

I look around for a mirror. I don't see one. I want to check how I look and see if my gusset might be betraying my newly aroused state.

I figure the biggest discomfort is the social one – being robbed of my arms to cover myself with. I shake my arms as if to get loose, and walk up and down a bit to relax. For a second I imagine myself as a confident femme fatale and splay my feet shoulder width apart like a gun slinger.

At that exact moment Henry comes barging back and I quickly stand up to attention. He's carrying a soft spongy pad – like a cushion. "Can you move over here Sarah?" he says, indicating a narrow padded knee-high bench. I feel his warm fingers touch the skin on my hips as he moves me towards the bench. "OK – now kneel down on this," he says, placing the cushion on the floor by the bench.

"Huh?" I ask.

"Yeah – you'll need to be kneeling for this, it's the only way to do it comfortably."

My balance seems now a touch harder on my high heels as he guides my shoulders down until I'm kneeling. I now notice a chain hanging above the bench.

"So what's going to happen to me now?" I ask. I need to keep up with what's going on, and I can't deal with his strong silent type of approach. He must know I'm uncomfortable.

"We're gonna stretch you a little, intermittently, and get those shoulders and elbows loosened up."

As he speaks, he guides me down until my protruding chest touches the bench, with my ass cheeks now on full display for him or anyone who might come in. I'm wondering what Gretta would think if she saw me now.

With an increasing feeling of defeat, I resign myself to just wait and see what happens next.

Henry catches the strap on my wrists and pulls it upwards to clip it to the chain connected to the chain above me.

"Is this some kind of torture chamber? I wasn't expecting this!" I ask, "Will this make my elbows touch?"

"You bet it will! We'll get you touching today… trust me," he says.

"Trust him" …that's pretty much what I've been doing, I think to myself. I'm getting a bit fidgety and test my bonds and give the chain a good shake, but Henry is back to pull straps anchored on each side of the bench up around my waist. Connecting yet another buckle, he instructs me to inhale as much as I can, before he tightens it a little more and then fastens the buckle on what is basically a fixed waist corset.

"Oh my god, that's tight Henry," I say, my voice showing signs of stress now.

My body and the bench are now connected as one corporate unit. As I consider the sensation of being strapped down like this, I'm also aware that he's lingering rather a long time behind me. With my waist now compressed against the bench and my ripe ass protruding behind, I must look quite the treat for his private viewing. I squirm a little as I hear him mutter almost to himself: "Very nice." Just a little humiliating. "And I love the outfit you wore today – really nice. I think Jason Green might really love seeing this… but he'll want those elbows touching, huh…"

Rolling my eyes, I give a jerk down on the wrist chain, but he's now winding a hand crank on the wall. He clicks it a few times as my arms are pulled upwards away from my body. As the strain on my shoulders increases I feel the waist belt start to press into my lower back.

I drop my head in submission.

"Owwww," I say plaintively, "I think that's enough?"

He stops with the crank… What a relief.

"OK Sarah – this is how we stretch you… like it?" The thick sarcasm is almost humorous.

"Oh I love it, thanks. And now what?"

"Well I keep you like this for twenty minutes and then let you out, loosen out those shoulders, and then start again."

"Twenty minutes?" I say, "OK – but I'm already feeling the pain here."

"Oh that will subside. Please just give it ten minutes and it'll start to ease a little."

"Really?"

No answer, but I'm sensing that the objective of connecting my elbows together has now taken on real purpose for Henry. We are sharing the same goal now, it seems.

But now he's back with… what's this? Another strap is waved in front of my face. A red orb flashes before me! Oh no! A ball gag! I crane my neck to give him a "WTF" look.

"Sorry Sarah," he kneels down to bring himself level with my face, "You must have known this was coming." He seems almost empathetic.

"Well… I wasn't sure it would all happen this soon. I'm just getting started here, ya know? Is that Jason guy going to come in and see all this?" I ask worriedly.

"If he comes, he's likely gonna want to see your elbows touching first hand, yes. I don't know when he's due. Are you getting shy now?" He's mocking me, a little unfairly.

He's presenting the gag to my lips now, and looks like he's about to grab my ponytail… I panic.

"Wait wait wait – like what if I don't want him to see me – like does he come in with a whole crew or what?"

"Sarah – come on, you're a model now. You're collared. You're in character – this gag is another part of your work uniform, you know? You're playing a role, and what you'll get paid for – eventually – is to display yourself, uh, in a quite public way. That IS the reality of all this, you know?" he says. I know he's getting impatient with me.

"Well it's just humiliating." I cast my eyes down… tug at my wrist chain, and sigh. "Does he have to see me all strapped up like this? Like, do I get any say in this?"

"Would it help if we concealed your face? I could put a hood on you, and nobody would know who you are?" he offers.

"Hood me?" I ask in shock.

"Yeah. Hold on, I'll show you." He's practically jogging back to the counter now.

"No STOP! I don't want that!" I shout. Oh Jesus – please don't let him hood my face up.

"Oh come on you, just take a look." He pulls open a drawer, and a sealed bag appears with something black inside. He looks closely at it, and says, "Yes – look at this one – it'll even cover your eyes."

"NO! Forget it!" I retort. Oh my god. He's holding up the mask towards me. I refuse to look, instead eyeing the ball gag still on the bench in front of me.

"There's even a hole for your ponytail!" he says, hopefully. He kneels down again and holds up the display picture for me to see up close.

"Please Henry – no." There is cracking in my voice, and I'm not sure if I might burst into tears. The idea of being hooded and blinded is just too dehumanizing for me right now.

"I think your ponytail could look pretty like that, no?" He reaches to lift up my ponytail.. Pulling my head up and back. I later realize that he's really challenging my self-esteem now. I've already said no to this one, but he's waiting for me to surrender AGAIN, and hand over more dignity to him. Still holding my ponytail.. now jerking it from side to side for fun, he's no longer being very professional, and I feel taken advantage of with this mind game.

Threatening to seal up my whole head with rubber is making me tremble, but it's like I can't talk him down from it, and he's already so good at making me “do stuff" I never thought I would allow him to.

"Look Henry, just f**king gag me with that first one, will you?" I say. I can't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I'm now requesting he do to me exactly what he threatened me with at the beginning. I feel it's the only way out, and he knows it. The lesser of two evils and all that.

With mock reluctance, he places the rubber hood on the bench and picks up the strap gag. Holding the ball up to my lips, he thumbs it in behind my teeth, then firmly pulls the straps back behind my neck.

The red silicone ball presses down on my tongue, and slots snugly into my mouth cavity. It's solid but I feel it give a little when I bite down on it.

Oh my god, I'm gagged. With a ball gag. I've tried one before, but never has one been put in my mouth by somebody else. It's another reality check as the straps are pulled roughly against the sides of my mouth. A couple of jerks of my head, and I feel Henry's fingers roughly close the buckle at the base of my neck.

"Ungggggggggggggggggggg," I gasp loudly. It's done. I'm gagged. I shake my head, but can't undo the feeling of my mouth gaping wide open.

He pushes my head sideways to more fully view my ball-gagged visage, before I feel the weight of his body move away from me finally. Hands on hips, he says with finality, "There." It's almost a declaration of victory. And defeat for me. I feel him standing over me, but I refuse to return his gloating stare.

I sense a tear collecting at the edge of my eye, and suddenly yearn for him to give me a hug or make any kind of gesture of tenderness, or even approval. But his body language right now makes me feel more like a piece of meat. His little stretch project. I wait for him to say something, but sensing that I'm getting emotional perhaps, he backs off. I hear his footsteps moving away.

I finally open my eyes to see a drop of drool string down from my mouth to the bench padding below me. It's too far away to rest my head on it. Shifting in discomfort, I hear the chain above me clink a little. I feel the tightness of my bindings, the shock of the initial onslaught now subsiding into a dull ache. My biggest defeat is the mental one. I've never felt this before. Although I had fantasized about being bound, I couldn't have imagined how surrendering my body to Henry would be so emotionally crushing. Choosing to struggle against him had been a mistake, which now made my submission feel all the more profound and damaging. My mind raced with all these thoughts.

"Twenty minutes." Henry shatters my internal dialogue. It's almost welcome to hear him announce the length of my sentence. Twenty minutes doesn't seem so long. I decide I'm going to accept this and get through it, like a good sub. Henry sits to watch me from the high stool. "It's hard at the start… Rome wasn't built in a day, Sarah."

I look over at him.. I feel a hint of a tear in my eye but return his gaze. I consider responding verbally but the ball locking my mouth open stops me even considering that. For the next twenty minutes, this is a master/slave relationship. And I am the slave. Physically and emotionally.

I drop my head again, and try to shift on my knees, making the bench squeak a little on its bolted-down steel legs.

Henry approaches me, and unexpectedly pulls my head back by my ponytail, looking down into my eyes. It's not the tender moment I was banking on.

"Good girl," he says.

I don't know what's in his head, but his eyes shift back to my suspended arms, the chain, and then to my protruding ass. He drops my ponytail and walks around behind me. I half expect he's about to touch me or grope me, and I'm not sure I'd consent to that right now.

I close my eyes and try to disappear. The silent inspection makes my skin crawl a little, but I remain still and endure it. Can he be planning even more ways to torment me? He finally moves away and disappears into the store room.

Alone again, I pull on my wrists and bite down onto my gag. The drool from my mouth now strings all the way to the bench padding. I hear the distant sound of boxes being moved about. I stop my breath to try to listen more closely.

Henry's coming back. He emerges from the room and stands in front of me. When I see what he's carrying, my eyes almost pop out of my head.

Twenty Minutes · Part 2 (2/2)
Previous