Dorei

"What could it be?"

That she knew not.

Delighted to present her some new and exciting bondage toy, I made Illaun sit up and removed the chain from the septum clamp. The clamp itself stayed.

"You put it on like a pullover -- a very tight-fitting pullover."

Once her head appeared from the contraption's neck-hole, I chained her nose up again. Only then I opened her cuffs, removing them completely instead of just disconnecting them like before.

"Now your arms go into the sleeves," I continued, only waiting for her to resist. There was indeed a good deal of hesitation in her moves, and I reached out for the chain.

"Your arms go into the sleeves, dorei."

Illaun kept her eyes closed as she finally obeyed. Maybe she tried to block out the fact that she was following my orders after all, that she was indeed obeying.

The sleeves ended in closed leather cones, similar to those bondage mittens, so her hands did not appear again.

I flipped her over onto her belly. By now my trainee had realised -- to her dismay -- that this fashionable item was some sort of straightjacket. Yet with a nasty difference from its medical counterparts, as Illaun was about to learn.

Since I had no intention to remove the jacket from my charming victim any time soon (or any other item, to that matter), I snapped a rubber-lined steel collar around her neck. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, and more practical than the posture correction device she had worn until this morning. Plus, it was fully compatible with the straightjacket. The jacket sported straps and laces, belts and buckles at every strategic spot thinkable, and while some were designed to tether arms against each other or against her body, others needed strong external anchor points.

The two straps from Illaun's mittens found said anchor points at the back of her new neck-long collar. I pulled, and her arms rose from small of her back up her spine. I pulled more, and her encased hands reached her shoulder blades. I pulled again, and Illaun replied with a whole lungful of screams.

Her fingertips had reached the base of the collar, which explained the intensity of my trainee's reaction. The tendons in her shoulders and arms immediately started to ache under the stress.

To make things worse, I buckled her elbows together. A new cascade of high-pitched shrieks confirmed that this bondage position brought even a young, limber woman to the limits of her endurance. A perfect reverse prayer was downright beautiful to look at, but it took its toll without mercy.

Soon her muscles would fatigue, and her vulnerable ligaments had to bear the horrid strain accumulating in her joints. The grinding pain Illaun was experiencing now would heat up to true suffering, a sensation she better got used to quickly.

Most of her upper body was now covered by two layers of rubber. Unlike normal straightjackets, this model wasn't bulky at all, and since her arms were neatly stowed at the back, Illaun's torso was gorgeously emphasised.

It was easy to decide what to use on her next.

"It's a corset, sensei."

"Ever worn one?"

"Yes, sensei."

This one took her breath away nonetheless. Heavily boned, it covered the lower part of the jacket, and I had quite some difficulties to get it under her belted elbows. She gasped and moaned as the black item shaped her into an hourglass.

Bonus round:

Illaun started to cry openly when she identified the bondage paraphernalia I was holding up, one in each hand. The suffocating hours inside the box, agonising and endless, had left scars. Finally, she managed to answer.

"A hood."

"And this?" I raised my left hand.

"A... a gag," she sobbed.

"And what did you forget?"

"The correct address, sensei."

Illaun didn't resist as I removed the septum clamp and rolled the smooth latex down her head, covering the last free part of her. I did not take this as a sign of her being broken. I had had trainees who had cracked during the boxing or after their first night in bondage. But what the blonde kneeling in front of me performed was another kind of not resisting: Illaun was gathering strength to endure the inevitable.

An oval mouth-hole was the only facial opening the hood provided. I carefully adjusted the latex rim around her lips before feeding her the gag. Like the majority of the gags she would wear in the future, this again came with a head-harness.

But far more fetching was the design of the mouthpiece itself: It could be named by several terms, such as pump gag, butterfly gag, inflatable. But the one I preferred -- and what described the severest aspect of this particular implement -- was throat gag.

Operating the harmless-looking hand pump caused her tongue to be squashed under the main rubber bulb. It made her cheeks bulge out as the butterfly's "wings" grew. The former sensation Illaun had already experienced, the latter was new to her. But what finally caused her struggle against her bondage was the phallic element forcing its way down her throat (hence the name "throat gag").

The layout came closest to completely mute a victim (which would require to block the vocal cords), but the sexual symbolism was evident. Illaun was semi-deep-throating.

Naturally, her gag reflex kicked in after the forth squeeze of the bulb.

"You aren't going sick on me, dorei, are you?" I taunted.

She managed to overcome the convulsions of nausea, and I gave her two more squeezes. After all, she was in training.

"If you think you can't take it anymore and have to puke, better think again..."

Right now, the gag invaded her to tip of her epiglottis and wouldn't go much deeper by design, so there was no risk of it to obstruct the entrance to her trachea.

"Calm down and breathe, dorei. There is a hose running through the gag."

What I concealed from her was the existence of an adjustable valve at the hose's outer end. Currently, it was completely open. But it could reduce and eventually shut down the air flow, thus making it very easy to control Illaun's breathing.

She had successfully fought the second wave of gagging. Brave girl. I caressed her rubberised face. Without the thick hood, her cheeks might positively burst from the pressure.

It was quite an extreme gag; I had trained many who hadn't been able to stand it physically and/or psychologically.

I took the pump again and tweaked it, just to let her know I was holding it.

"Is your mouth now full enough to make you remember how to address me, Illaun?"

She produced frantic noises. Of course they were completely unintelligible and severely muffled -- yet I understood enough to know that she had reacted to her old name. A punishable offence. Sure, it was a perfidious trick, not to say a setup. But she was here to learn, and learn she would.

I gave more squeezes and only stopped when I heard something crunch in her jaw joints.

The bulb dangling on its hose gave Illaun's face an even more degraded and controlled appearance. Yet I disconnected it, for it hampered me polishing the hood to the same perfect blackness as her suit.

My trainee commented my task with strange guttural moans, occasionally interrupted by retching noises. (When I touched her collar during those retchings, I could sense her convulsing throat through it.)

To keep her happy, I parted the double crotch strap of the jacket and opened the notorious zipper. Her body, still half-lying, half-sitting, stiffened as I ran a chrome dildo along her private parts. The cool metal's touch elicited an inchoate yelp from her rubber-filled pharynx.

"Front or back?"

Embarrassed silence. Or maybe she was just playing on time.

"One grunt or two grunts? Quick, or I get a bigger one and decide myself."

She uttered a choked sound. Front.

Illaun (I kept thinking of her as Illaun, I couldn't help it) took the whole length in one slow and steady push, but it would have made her gasp even if her breathing weren't hampered.

My trainee would soon come to cherish those ministrations, for her days of unearned orgasms and free self-pleasuring were over. Sexual slavery had a very unfavourable pain-to-pleasure ratio.

I closed the zipper and re-tightened the crotch straps. Better be sure...

The chain that had held her nose clamp found a new counterpart in the strong ring at the top of the head-harness. I worked the pulley and listened to the sweet sounds of pain and distress as the rising chain forced Illaun onto her ballet-booted feet.

If you have seen a girl prancing around en pointe in ballet boots, you know what sexy dance I was watching at. If not, you have something to look forward to.

Even in the lying position, the cruel fetish footwear had been harsh to Illaun's calves, insteps and toes. Standing in them was draconic. But teeter in them in order to keep balance -- blind, breathless and without the help of one's arms -- was torture.

"This is the basic outfit for a fetish pet," I informed her, emphasising the word "basic" not without a trace of sadistic Schadenfreude.

Unlike during her time in the box, her blonde mane wasn't trapped underneath the hood. So her now freely falling hair was glowing in great contrast against the dark splendour of the latex. Every mincing, tottering and near-overbalancing sent it in new waves over her armless shoulders.

I savoured her tip-toe torture for the rest of the morning.

White

I always enjoyed the first full day with a new trainee, used it to break the ice, to show her the possibilities I had to ensure her cooperation. Yesterday I enjoyed it all the more, for Illaun looked set to become a tough yet worthwhile job.

But today, more formalities were scheduled. First of all, my Irish captive was to be ringed. Every proper slavegirl sported rings or barbells in various sensitive parts of her body to offer her owner adornment and control. So I had had no understanding for Illaun's fuss when she had seen Yukiko and her piercing equipment.

Yukiko was a young, aspiring artist from Yokohama, an adept with needles of all sorts. And a born sadist.

Two minutes after I had left my trainee in her care, the black-haired lady had already underlined her non-nonsense attitude by installing a nose hook deep within Illaun's nostrils.

It forced her head far back against the angled bamboo frame she was tied to. In this position she surrendered her spider-gagged mouth beautifully to forceps and needle.

I had asked for a ring through the tip of her tongue and a stud in the middle, both 10 gauge. Yukiko was only too eager to fulfil my wish.

Illaun tried to raise concerns, but my Japanese guest caught the blonde's tongue with the forceps and gone to work.

I watched the scenery in silence, just relishing what I saw: This morning I had chosen a different style for Illaun, an outfit that could be described best as a white latex bolero jacket with integrated hood. I didn't have to mention that it was skin-tight and that it did a great job in not covering her breasts at all. The hood offered openings for mouth and nostrils as well as for the eyes and impressed with a face part decorated like a Venetian carnival mask (I had a weakness for weird details, so I tested it on Illaun). Ballet ankle boots, of course white, completed the outfit. Consequently, she was nude from her collarbones down to her ankles.

Ringing was always an excellent opportunity to introduce my trainees to shibari. After all, the ancient art of Japanese rope bondage was originally developed to immobilise captives for torture.

Asanawa, the rope used for shibari and hence used on Illaun, featured an almost silken quality, caressing the latex underneath instead of scratching it. Same for the skin, of course.

The hooks' prongs had enough space behind them for Yukiko to pierce Illaun's septum as well. No more fiddling with the clamp -- a permanent nose ring had so many advantages. Yukiko showed me a rather extreme heavy-duty version. To say that I was pleased with her suggestion would be an understatement. With a brutality I had not expected residing in a petite woman like her, she punched a hole into the cartilage of Illaun's septum. My trainee's frantic screams were even intensified as said hole was fitted with a 6 gauge grommet. The ring through this grommet, resting heavily on her upper lip with its diameter of one inch, might look a bit freaky, but could take a lot of punishment.

The nose ring was one way bringing unruly trainees to heel. Another one, more delicate, but also even more effective, was to pierce her nipples. Of course, Illaun anticipated our intention and pled through her rigid gag, despite her smarting tongue. But the ropes were masterfully wound around her chest.

Yukiko didn't care numbing the flesh -- pain should always be given to slaves in its purest form. She just pinched Illaun's nipples into hardness, grabbed them with her forceps and let them suffer the needle, prolonging the torment by slowly drilling the steel instead of just pushing it through the nerve-rich tissue.

My trainee seemed to have especially sensitive nipples, running out of breath more than once during their ringing. Maybe I should check whether she would faint from having her clitoris pierced...

Eventually, her breast jewellery was installed; stainless steel and irremovable like the other three. I had chosen rings again, yet more decent than the one in her nose: 11/16".

With her work done at her chest, my sadistic friend moved between Illaun's spread legs. My trainee actually feared a clit piercing and baulked once more.

With some quick slaps to her breasts I pointed out to her that such outburst were not tolerated.

"You better hope I haven't any more modifications for your body in mind, dorei!"

Tears ran down the second skin of her latex mask as she submitted.

Yukiko, who was used to difficult working conditions and unwilling customers, had fired up her tattoo machine. She guided the tip with its three pulsating needles below Illaun's navel, way below, just above the spot where it really got interesting.

When I had restrained Illaun, I had used variations of traditional styles to meet Yukiko's requirements. In particular, there were no crotch ropes involved.

During the next quarter of an hour, first one, then a second Japanese character appeared in the waxed skin above her clitoral hood. I had seen those two kanji countless times before, but once again I was deeply thrilled by them -- those two kanji which would haunt Illaun in the demanding and demeaning life that lay before her.

do and rei

dorei

slave

End

v1.11