Liza's New Life Ch. 05

I was alone for the first time in nearly as long as memory would stretch. My new friends, or handlers, or tormentors, one might more aptly call them, were loading the truck with things to take to the party. I was of no use in that regard: my hands were useless, handcuffed behind my back, just as they'd been since just after I set foot on this crazy island.

I remembered my husband's voice: "Go sailing with the boys. You'll have fun." Yeah, famous last words, for sure. I couldn't help but blame him as I sat there bound, breasts bared, swollen nipples, with nothing on my naked body in this strange house but a belt around my waist. The belt served no other purpose than to secure the narrow band of leather that pressed down from its front into my pussy and around to make the wedgy of all wedgies until it fastened, locked, at the back. I shifted my weight to try to relieve the pressure on my clit, but in so doing it only pressed harder against my anus. 'Thank god for small favors,' I smiled to myself, marveling at my ability to keep a sense of humor in light of everything that had happened this day.

As I sat there, I thought about how I ended up naked on the boat, then again in the antique shop in Avalon. I tugged on my handcuffs as I remembered the feeling I had when I first felt the cold metal against my wrists, bent over the display case like a criminal, my bare bottom waving shamefully in the air. I must say, the policeman's first negative reaction to my public nudity sure did transform quickly into, well, whatever this is.

My mind's eye then jumped to the very beginning of this strange saga that brought me to this island of chastity belt fetishists and body modification enthusiasts. I saw the excited face of my husband, Marc, as he undressed me last Sunday evening in front of those two eighteen-year-old boys, Sam and Jake. That was the opening of Pandora's box. As I sat at dinner with Sam, Jake and my husband, they dressed and I naked, I wondered if things would ever be the same again. As I basked in their adulation, I wondered if I wanted them to be. Carried away by something I still struggled to comprehend, I allowed myself to become trapped in the logic that having shown myself nude to Sam and Jake, I owed the same favor to someone else, then another. Marc and the boys convinced me that I had debts to pay, and my nudity was the currency. The debts always mounted quicker than I could settle them, and I made one promise after the other to placate them, until one morning Sam made the whole process easier by simply attaching that damned anklet. The inscription, "Anything, No limits, Anytime, I promise," sealed my fate.

Now Sam and Jake have set sail for the mainland without me, and I have been entrusted to Peter, the officer who handcuffed me, his simpleton sister, Gina, who tortured me (God, I want to kill her), and their friends, Susan and Jess. They know all about the anklet and my allegiance to it; Sam told Peter about it just after my "arrest," then Marc called and had a long talk with Peter and Gina comparing their lives on Catalina with my scantily-clad adventures in Newport Beach. His emergency trip to New York meant he couldn't come get me. Marc's admonition on the phone, "Be good and keep your promises," rang in my ear. 'Yeah, he's off to New York on business and I sit here naked on Catalina Island,' I fumed to myself. 'Peter will no doubt be calling him, giving him a blow by blow account of my adventures, just as Sam always does,' I concluded. "I love to think of you naked with the boys and others, and it's exciting to hear about it," Marc confessed to me on Monday night. "Do you hate me for that?" he asked as he made that puppy-dog face that can make me do anything. So, I went sailing with the boys.

As I continued to squirm against the pressure of the belt, I remembered one painful humiliation after the other since we moved into our ocean-view apartment four days ago. I thought about how my landlord threatened to throw us out of our beautiful new home, because she caught me on the balcony in just a tiny towel, and how only my accepting a spanking prevented eviction. Of course, I only wore that towel to please Marc. 'So she spanks me, and then I do something else scantily clad for Marc, she finds out, and then she spanks me again,' I complained to myself. 'I can't tell Marc about her, she forbids it, nor can I tell her about Marc, whom I'm protecting. No, I have to accept all the consequences,' I reasoned. 'Well, at least my sojourn on Catalina has gotten me off that merry-go-round, for awhile, anyway,' I smiled happily to myself. I wondered what would happen, though, if I didn't make it back to the mainland for my session with her hairbrush in the morning. 'Will that finally be the end? Will she kick us out of the apartment? Or will she just spank me even more? Oh, God!' I cringed.

So, I sat there and asked myself question after question until I came to the biggest one of all, the heart of the matter: do I love Marc enough to go through what I go through for him? Only a positive answer would bolster my courage to keep my promises both to him and the medallion hanging around my ankle. I wondered if other women suffer for their men as I do...

"Alright, we got it all figured out," Susan beamed as she breezed into the room, her long nipples making her t-shirt project from her torso like twin peaks. Peter, Jess and Gina followed. "We have a plan to get you to the party, in your handcuffs, with no one ever thinking to question why. Peter's little foible with the lost key will never come up - his reputation on the force is safe." She punched Peter playfully on the shoulder.

"It was my idea, too!" interjected Gina. "I'm the one who said I wished it was me in fetters, not her." She pointed at me and in so doing raised the hem of her short summer shift to her crotch. I glimpsed the portion of her chastity belt that appeared from between the bottom of her pussy lips then disappeared up her butt crack. It dripped with moisture.

"Well, I still think it's a bit far-fetched," Peter shook his head, "but if you want to try, okay by me. At least Marc thinks it will be fun."

"You talked to Marc?" I lit up.

"Yeah, he called to check on you one more time before he had to turn off his cell. He's just taking off for New York."

"What did you tell him?"

"Well, that you're doing just fine, of course. He was happy to hear that you're adjusting to the belt, and he liked Jess' suggestion that we get you custom fitted tomorrow. After all, you can't wear Gina's hand-me-downs forever."

"He talked to Jess, too?" I stammered as I looked at Jess with bug eyes. "I've known you, Jess, for twenty minutes and already you're talking on the phone with my husband?" I gave Jess a puzzled look.

"Everybody had a turn. Susan say's he's got a sexy voice." Jess looked teasingly at her.

"I wanted to talk to him..." The words choked from my throat.

"There just wasn't time after I got through answering all his questions and describing everything to him. He sure does like a lot of details!"

"Yes, I know..." My voice trailed off. "He likes to hear all about it..."

"He wanted to know if your nipples were still stretched longer than before, but I had to tell him we had a lot more work to do before that happens, huh?" It was Gina who responded and she looked to Peter to agree with her.

"Well, your session this afternoon was a jumpstart on that process, that's for sure."

Just hearing them talk about it brought back the pain in my nipples. I jumped at the memory of what that simple child did to me, hanging me on that pole, attaching clamps and weights to my nipples and clitoris. I shivered visibly and tested my bonds, just in case I could at last free myself to wring her pretty little neck.

"How much weight did you use, Gina?" Jess asked with the same matter-of-factness one might use about the amount of salt in the soup.

"The same Peter uses on me, the very same." She replied in her defense.

"It was her first time, though, remember, so it was too much," Peter said.

Susan sat beside me on the couch, took my right breast in her hand and examined my nipple. She rolled the nipple gently with the other hand, then pulled. I winced, then she pulled a little harder. When I yelped, she released her grip. "Well, no damage was done," she pronounced with gravity, like a doctor examining a wound. "Mine are often in worse shape when Jess gets done. He has his program, you know."

"Hey, it's not my fault," Jess laughed. "You're the one who wants to win 'most improved,' tonight. That's why we've been on this accelerated schedule the last few months."

"How many centimeters more than last reunion?" Peter asked.

"I'm hoping for one below. Maybe nearly as much up top," Jess replied.

"Good going, Susan!" Gina exclaimed. That's a lot in a short time! Let me see!"

Susan raised her t-shirt above her breasts as everyone gathered around. I could not believe my eyes. Her nipples were the longest I'd ever seen. They were so long that they drooped downward when they first appeared, but in the fresh air and with four sets of eyes trained their way, they quickly rose to stick straight forward, stretching to an incredible length.

"Beautiful," Peter whistled.

"Do you think she's got a chance?" Jess asked.

"Are they as long as mine, Peter?" Gina couldn't help but be jealous.

"We'll know for sure at the party," he dodged the questions with the aplomb of a politician.

"You see, Liza," Gina turned to me. "That's what nipples are supposed to look like! Not those stubbly little things you've got!"

"Don't be rude, Gina!" Peter admonished his little sister. "And besides," he added in a gentle tone, "Liza has wonderfully developed nipples, for a mainlander. You just have to give her some time."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Liza," Gina sat down beside me and threw her arms around me. I didn't mean anything. I just meant..."

"Yes, I know," I helped out the little bitch, "You're just sorry I was neglected as a child."

"Yes, that's it!" She rejoiced. "And you'll never be neglected again!"

I rolled my eyes and hoped against hope that I would be delivered from this island of insanity sooner than later. I wondered how long I could continue this air of civility toward this stupid little moron who hurt me so. In my vulnerable, manacled condition, I surely didn't want to offend her, or anyone else for that matter.

"We'll get Liza officially measured tonight so she can win a prize next time, okay?" Gina was enthusiastic about her idea. "She will win most improved next time, for sure. We'll help her, won't we, Peter?"

"Yes, of course. Great idea," he nodded and smiled.

"Come on," Susan said to Gina, "Let's get ready for the party!"

The brilliant idea to get me into the party in my handcuffs was, in the words of Susan, "to hide me like a tree in the forest." What she meant by that was that she and Gina would also don cuffs for the party, and they planned to call several friends who would surely go along with the gag. They planned to show up at the party in a group under the banner, "Bound to Be Served." Each cuffed woman would get special attention from her helper who would wait on her hand and foot, never leave her side, and see to every whim. Actually, only the longed-for slavish attentiveness of the helpers constituted a bit of a stretch from normal life in this group where every intimate act of every female was already carefully monitored, regulated, serviced, and openly discussed. After all, no woman from the age of puberty went without the belt, which meant a "helper" was needed for each bathroom activity. Clitoral and nipple stretching, the favorite island sport, also required the participation of a helper.

Susan and Gina took me upstairs to "dress" me according to some ideas they got from Marc, my ever helpful, if absent, husband. Since they had the belt around my waist to work with, they took scarves and tied them to the belt, dangling. It took about a dozen to leave only minor gaps around my waist. Together they formed a grass-skirt effect that hit me about mid thigh. Of course, as you can imagine, they separated and flew every which way at my slightest movement or will of the wind. The girls had me parade around the room to find what they called, "just the right Marc effect." Apparently, Marc wanted my pussy to flash periodically, so gaps had to be created, moved, and eliminated around the belt in order to comply. I marveled at how simple it was for Marc to find people eager to play his game, to treat me like a doll to be dressed, undressed, examined, humiliated, and yes, pampered, fussed over and indulged.

For the top, Gina had a tube top that fit me very snuggly. I complained about how it pressed, flattened and constricted, but they just giggled as if they had a secret. They knew that the second step was to take a pair of scissors from the drawer and cut the elastic at the bottom. The tube top then hung from the upper elastic like a short drape, extending out and over my liberated breasts, but not being long enough to fall very far beyond and below my hard nipples. My breasts were bared from below.

The parade around the room recommenced. They had me bend and twist and even jump. Gina giggled each time my breasts were bared completely, which was often.

"Do you think Marc would like your outfit?" Gina asked me excitedly.

"I'm sure he would," I assured her.

"Is it like they wear on the mainland?"

"Well, nothing this clever, certainly. After all," I reminded her, "you just made this." I chocked back my desire to tell her just how absurd it was.

"Oh, yeah..." The light went off in the simpleton's brain.

"Okay, now, Gina," Susan said. "It's nearly time to go. Let's get you dressed next."

"Come on!" Gina screeched and jumped.

They rushed out leaving me standing there, but returned just as quickly. Gina had been transformed in the twinkling of an eye from the little nonsensical nuisance that she was into a woman of extraordinary, raw beauty. 'It's remarkable what a dress can do,' I remember thinking, then wondering to myself why so many people insist on seeing me naked if that's the case.

Her dress was of the finest lace, a pale pink. The shoulders were bear, the breasts covered by just the slightest wisp, as if just touched by gossamer. The material gathered tightly around the hips, not the waist, then floated gently with an uneven hem to her knees. Her feet were left bear to give her a look of primitive, island beauty.

"Do you think Marc would like this?" Gina asked as she posed from across the room.

"It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen," I admitted truthfully. "Whoever wouldn't like it has no taste," I smiled.

When she walked up to me I saw something remarkable: the material of her dress was held out from her breasts the very long length of her Susan-like nipples. Everyone would be able to see her bare breasts from above. My jaw dropped. I suddenly didn't feel underdressed.

"Now for the pièce de resistance," Susan announced as she held forth a pair of handcuffs.

Gina squealed with delight as she put her hands behind her back. She cooed happily as the locks snapped into place.

"I'll have to ask Peter if he has any idea where the keys to these things are," she joked. Even I had to chuckle softly at that.

"How about you, Susan?" Gina gushed.

"No, not yet. I have to go with Jess in the truck to help drop things off at John's, then go home to dress. Jess and I will meet you three there. Don't worry, Gina, I'll have them on the next time you see me!" Susan consoled the now pouting, beautiful butterfly that stood before us.

The party was at John Long's place, the proprietor of the antique shop who started my island nightmare. It was he who insisted I return Sam his shirt under the "no shirt, no service" rule of the store, which of course didn't apply to me - clothing requirements rarely do. That left me with nothing to wear, so I was running around the shop naked when Peter, who had come in to consider a purchase and talk about the party, caught me.

It was a large home in the hills above Avalon, with a winding, dusty trail up to it. The walk wasn't easy, especially with our hands fastened in back, but it would have been worse in the heels I started out the day in. I understood now why Gina didn't have on a fancy pair of shoes to go with her dress. Peter followed us up the trail, probably to keep a constant eye on my ever appearing and disappearing rear end from behind the scarves. 'He's probably rehearsing how he'll describe it to Marc,' I though to myself.

When we arrived at the front door, I was again awed by the opulent good taste of these island denizens. The home was completely private, isolated from everything, yet still enjoyed a beautiful view of the bay and the surrounding hills. It was a rambling, single story that fit into the hillside and the ravine like it belonged. Outdoor areas surrounded three sides of the structure, with the largest to one side, where tables, chairs, decorations suggesting a Hawaiian theme, and even several small stages were set up. The space was already filled with people milling about, greeting one another like old friends. True to John's promise, the scent of several roasting pigs wafted over the area.

It was John and his wife who greeted us as we came upon the scene. He started chuckling as soon as he saw Gina and me. He made a few quips to Peter that were meant to both tease and assure that his secret about the lost key was safe with him.

"Amy, I want to introduce you to the famous Liza!" He introduced me to his wife.

"Oh, so you're Liza! I'm so glad to meet you. And call me Dort, just like everybody else around here. 'Amy' is for downtown."

Dort was in her forties, like her husband. She was dressed casually, not as fancy as Gina, or several of the other, younger guests. She was a striking beauty in her long cotton skirt and simple white top. She could have been the host at any garden party I know, but I had every suspicion that things at this party were going to be very different.

My expectations were realized at that same moment. A woman in her mid to late twenties, about my age, rushed up to us, her chest jutting forward awkwardly, her hands tied behind her. A man of the same age followed.

"Gina! You're here. Finally! Bobbi and I were beginning to think you and Susan were playing a joke on us. This must be Liza! Hi." Lori pushed her cheek against mine for a quick peck of greeting, as they do in Europe, I suppose, but perhaps that was all she could think to do without a hand to shake. She was dressed in a gown similar to Gina's, but in lavender. I couldn't help but notice that her breasts, too, were bared from above by the long nipples holding the light fabric away from her small torso.

"Hi," I replied monosyllabically, unsure how to act in this new environment.

"This is Dave, my helper, and this is Bruce, his little brother. Isn't he adorable?" She exuded charm. "He's been assigned to you, Liza."

Indeed, just coming up from behind, out of the group of people behind Lori, was a baby-faced redhead, certainly not more than eighteen or nineteen. His blue jeans and faded, tie-dyed t-shirt hung on him like they belonged to an older sibling.

"But I..." Peter began.

"No," John cut him off, "Amy decided to do it like this."

Peter held his peace, nodded with a marked subservience to Dort, then just turned and melted into the crowd.

"Come dear, let's have a talk." Dort took me by the elbow and ushered me into the house, away from the crowd. Bruce followed several steps behind.

She brought us to a solarium on the other side of the huge living room. It seemed to be an exercise room of sorts, with vinyl-covered benches, poles like the one Gina attached me to, and other devices I couldn't identify. She sat down on one of the benches and maneuvered me in front of her. She held me by the hips and looked up into my face.