Janine's Journey

With sperm tickling down the insides of her legs, she locked the house up, walked down to the curb and got into her car.

She found some tissues in the glove compartment and used them to wipe the sperm of her inner legs and labia as best she could. She put the car fan on the highest level and opened all the windows, but still felt the whole car smelling of semen.

Then she drove home, and on the way making a mental note to always get the name of the person or persons, she was going to meet and show a property. Not that she was going to refuse or let one of her colleagues go. She would be much to afraid of the consequences, but just so that she would be prepared.

By the time she walked in the front door, more sperm had trickled out of her and dried into a noticeable sticky substance between her legs.

George met her in the hall:" Hello, slut. Had a nice day at work?" His face was one big smile, and she knew he must have been watching the live feed from the house on his computer.

"Yes, Master."

"Ok. Welcome home. You know the drill: Get ready and come to the living room."

She stripped in the hall, but to her amazement her cuffs and collar was not waiting for her on the small side table. She went into the living room, feeling strangely more naked without her usual steel restraints.

George was standing at the big table: "Come over here, slut. Stand in position."

As she did so, she noticed a lot of leather belts and straps lying on the table.

"I realize that you are no longer able to attend your bellowed fitness classes -- and saw that you had cancelled your subscription. Very wise, slut."

"Yes, Master." Of course, he checked her accounts regularly to see what movements there were and had seen her cancellation note in her mail.

"I have given it some thoughts. We can't have you growing fat, just because you have turned into your true slutty self, can we now?"

"No, Master". She wondered what would come next.

"So, from now on you are going to get your exercise at home, and I have prepared things for you."

"Thank you, Master."

He gently grabbed her wrists and moved them round her back. A couple of the leather belts secured them in a horizontal, parallel position. Another belt went around her torso, just under her breasts and through some narrow loops in the two first belts. Her arms being held tight to her back.

The torso belt, in combination with the wide waist belt made her breath slightly shorter and slightly faster.

He turned her by the shoulders, grabbed her left breast and carefully wound a thin leather belt round the base. Pulling at the meat as he tightened and buckled the belt. Satisfied, he gave her right breasts the same treatment. Looking down, she could see both breasts slowly turning red, and the nip stand out erect. It felt like the tip of her nipples were going to explode.

The end of the belts from her breasts hung loosely down on each side.

She watched as he oiled a plug -- much like the one in her anus, but without the big back plate. Spreading her labia with a few fingers, he shoved the plug all the way up inside her.

A chain -- similar to the ones holding her anal plug in place, went up her stomach and through the small ring on the bottom of her belt. He made her bend over and chained the two plugs together under her. Then pulled her upright again.

The next thing was a very high and tight leather collar round her neck. He adjusted the straps several times making sure no skin was pinched, and that is was tight -- very tight.

"...I...can't...breathe...Master..." She said in a slightly rasping voice as her heart began hammering inside her head.

"Oh. You can breathe all right. You just have to get used to it."

The last thing he did was to take the two straps from her breasts and connect them behind her neck. Pulling her breasts up.

"So now you are almost ready for your little exercise. Nice sports bra -- right?"

He let his hands and fingers slide over her tight nips. The intense feeling making her moan loudly.

"..mmm...yes...Master.." She still had no idea where this was leading. Was he going to take her outside like this -- she hoped not.

He checked everything carefully. Then told her to follow him. The went to the cellar.

Here a new thing had been installed: A walking/running machine in the corner. Next to it was a pair of her heels, but the most ominous looking detail was something looking like a tackle rigging: A solid hook in the ceiling, two round, metal things with a lot of ropes going between them, and a just as solid hook on the end.

"Get into your heels and step on the trainer, slut." George said.

"Reluctantly she managed to stick her feet into the 5-6-inch-high heels and stagger on to the middle of the walking surface. It began to dawn on her what he had in mind.

The belts round her arms had two large rings that went into the hooks. The system went up to the hook in the ceiling and then down the side wall to a winch. He turned it till she could feel a noticeable pull in her back. She stood quite upright on the walking trainer. Supported by the system on her back. He locked the winch.

He smiled at her and stroked her butt. Then went to the control panel and it made a lot of beeping sounds as he pressed the buttons. The surface under her sprang to life, and she had to start walking -- in a relatively slow tempo.

Quite quickly the heartbeat in her head became loud and hammering, and she was losing her breath. The objects inside her moved with her body, her nips felt even tighter and closer to exploding and the collar made it impossible for her to hold her head anything but up and straight forward.

He had programmed the thing, so at one point the whizzing noise changed as the far end of the walking plate moved up, making her feel like walking uphill. The speed also increased and decreased. Sometimes she would be walking in a slow tempo, sometimes almost running.

Sweat broke out all over and dripped down her body.

About half way through the ordeal, he went and fetched a long, thin cane, and gave her some hard, well-placed strokes on her buttocks, making her scream and beg him to stop.

She felt she walked and ran for hours, but she found out afterwards that it had been no more than a little over half an hour.

She collapsed in his arms, when he stopped the machine and hooked her off the tackle from the ceiling.

He more lifted and carried than led her to the big chair in the corner -- had her kneel and give him a blow Job to show her gratitude of the training she had just been through.

She suspected that he especially enjoyed her sweaty body and red/blue bulging breasts. At least both got a lot of caresses and attention as he let his hands wander over her.

She was also very much aware that the collar kept her head in a fixed position, so she had to use most of her upper body, when she moved him in and out of her mouth.

He took her upstairs, untied her. Took the plugs out and the belt off -- and let her soak in a warm tub for a very long time. The first real bath she had had in weeks.

After she was in her basket and he in the bed, he asked: "Well, how do you like your new training system, slut?"

"It's is...eeehhh...well...very intense, Master."

"I think we will make it a regular event. That should be quite a sufficient replacement from your fitness studio. Don't you think. Slut?"

"Yes, Master. Quite."

"Sleep well."

"You too. Master."

He turned the light out. She fell asleep thinking that from now on, she would have to walk the machine in the cellar tied up and plugged at least once a week. She was so tired that she had a dreamless night.

Thursday she managed to unload two of the 'impossible' properties. One to a young couple that felt they had gotten a bargain -- and was going to do mayor restoration work on a small, derelict house.

If they had the energy for such a colossus task, they would have a very nice house, and the price would have almost doubled, as it was the only 'rotten tooth' in an otherwise nice suburban neighbourhood.

She could not help think that even if she did her best to point out the leaking toilet, the rotten porch, the defect drains and the roof that needed changing and so on, her looks had something to do with it. The man seemed at least rather absent minded during the tour of the house, and was more interested in using his 'x-ray vision' on her body. Somehow she felt it wrong not to do this on her professionalism alone -- but the commission was good enough - never mind how she did the selling.

She contended herself by thinking that if they thought her sexy, she could not help it. Only try to be cool and professional.

The other was a flat -- or rather a loft. A former storage room that had not attracted the interest of developers, as the rest of the building was occupied by small businesses and workshops -- all with far too long leases. She sold that to an 'artistic' looking couple that adored the raw walls and the leftover crane running under the ceiling along one wall. The view was excellent. The place needed some work and insulation, but otherwise it definitely had potential -- especially for a 'bohemian' or 'artistic' couple like them.

They too were rather absent during the walk through the place, but this time it was not her, they looked at. At one point she thought that they would throw each other on the floor and start fucking -- so much in love and infatuated with each other as they seemed.

Back at the office, she could not help herself, walked by Bernard's -- as always sour -- secretary without a word, stuck her head inside his just as always open door and told him the news. He was ecstatic of course.

She felt, she deserved to relax a little, so she sat with her coffee and looked out the window when her best friend Madelynn came in and dumped her little bum on the edge of her desk: "I hear that you are the new star of the office?"

She smiled: "I do not know about that, but I managed to unload two old cases this morning, and word do get around rather quickly here I see!"

"Yes. The coffee machine crowd are talking of nothing else. I think they are bloody jealous."

Madelynn was not only her best friend in the office, but also the youngest employee. She was mainly handling smaller flats and properties - but she was getting better and better every day.

"Do you think it has something to do with your new, sexy style perhaps?"

"Now Maddy. You know we sell by being professional here -- so whatever made you think that?"

She smiled mysteriously.

"Well. Since you've changed style -- you seem to sell more than ever before, so I thought you were flashing your eyes and those cute, big boobs of yours in the customers face?" She giggled.

"I do not know about that -- but there might be a little truth in it. At least I have noticed a bit more personal interest from some of the clients."

She did not want to go into details if she could avoid it.

"Well. I'll be wanting the address of your hairdresser and the label of the wonderful makeup, you have started wearing -- soon please!"

'If she only knew' Janine thought, but decided to keep a straight face.

"Look. I'll try to buy some extra makeup the next time, and you can try it out. How's that!"

"Oh. Great. What about the hair then?"

There was no way to avoid it: "Well it was just a side-street hairdresser and a decision I made at the spur of the moment. I have always worn my hair long -- but decided to try this out. Do not even think I remember the address."

Madelynn gave her a strange look. It was highly unlikely that an Estate Agent would ever forget an address, but as she offered no more explanation, Madelynn slid off her table and left with a few quick remarks.

Janine envisioned her in the same situation as herself. As far as she knew Madelynn was 'between boyfriends' -- and maybe she should invite her to a dinner at John's. She could need some culture, so an invite to their usual 'culture event and dinner' could be a way of getting her and John acquainted.

She suddenly felt like she was pimping, and closed down the line of thoughts -- but it still rummaged around in the back of her head. She even imagined herself in a status like Elisabeth -- towards Madelynn, and that was rather exciting.

Then -- as the workday drew near the end, she got a text from their common app, so she had no way of knowing if it came from John or George.

It read: "After work go to this address. Be there at 18:00 - no later. They will be expecting you. Do as they instruct you and behave yourself!"

Another surprise, she thought and wondered what they had cooked up for her now.

Her GPS led her to one of the worst quarters in town. She drove past the very small side-street in which her destination lay. Found a street a few blocks away where there were lights and shops and a definite chance of her still having a car, when she came back.

Increasingly nervous, she walked the short distance, turned down the street and found the address. It was a totally anonymous shop. No sign, the big window blinded and the whole front painted in a matte black.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. A bell announced her entry and from the back a small, black haired woman appeared. The room was bare and painted in a neutral gray. No furniture except a desk dividing the room in two. Behind the desk was the only other door apart from the entrance.

The woman looked amazingly normal in her short, grey skirt and matching sweater.

"You must be Janine -- the slut. We've been expecting you. Please follow me."

She was glad, she did not have to answer. It was not every day a stranger called her a 'slut'.

The next room looked like a copy of the first one: Small, greyish and neutral. No desk, but a cabinet along one wall -- with a lot of small drawers.

Let me have your handbag, please."

She handed it over and the woman put it on top of the cabinet.

"Now for your clothes!" The woman held out her hands. Slowly she stripped and the woman folded each item and made a small pile on top of the cabinet beside her handbag.

Again, it amazed her that she did not protest, and that she felt quite natural and comfortable stripping in front of a stranger.

The woman opened a drawer and took out a length of rope.

"Hold your hands like this, please". She demonstrated by holding both arms out horizontally, wrists against each other and with clenched fists.

She complied, and the woman quickly wound the rope around her wrists, cinching the tie with a few rounds between her now locked arms. A length of the rope hung down and reached the floor in front of her.

"Not too tight -- is it? Comfortable?"

Increasingly worried where this would lead, she answered. "No. That's quite ok."

"Good", the woman said, turning and opening another drawer and messing around for a minute before pulling a familiar thing out of it: A large, red ball gag.

"Now you won't give me any trouble, will you. It is always more pleasant if this is done voluntarily. Now be a good little slut and open wide."

She quite well understood the threat in the woman's voice, and opened her mouth for the gag. Her hands were already tied -- and even though it was in front of her, she knew she had already lost. The woman could probably call on assistance from behind the other door in the room.

Once more the woman showed an amazing professionalism: She managed to turn the gag inside her mouth in one, small movement, and then grab the straps and buckle it very tight behind her head. Fast and efficient.

The woman checked with a finger - letting it run along her lips -- to see that it was mounted properly.

Apparently that was not enough, because a few minutes later, the woman had gotten a head harness from one of the drawers, put in on her, and gradually adjusted the many straps and buckles. It had a leather 'cup' encasing her chin and a cut-out for her nose.

Several straps going from under her chin, over the front of her head and from the sides just under her ears.

When she had finished, she smiled at Janine: "We can't have the neighbours complaint if you should decide to make any noises - can we now?"

'In this neighbourhood, it would be unlikely that anybody complained about anything', she thought. Making some illegible sounds as the woman said: "Good. Then we agree on that. Now come this way."

She grabbed the end of the rope and dragged her through the other door.

Another room. This one slightly bigger than the two other ones, but still neutral in all respects. She thought 'what is this place, and what will they do to me here?'

This room had two pieces of furniture: A strange. Low chair and beside it a small table on rollers. The tabletop filled with an assortment of straps and belts.

"Have a seat, and sit well back."

Having no choice, she sat down. The seat had an upward angle and the back was reclining. Both seat and back were covered with hard stuffed, black leather.

She leaned back and put her head in the two round, padded holders on each side.

The woman pulled her hands over her head and tied the rope to something on the back of the chair.

A belt went around her waist corset and the chair. Another under her breasts. Smaller straps held her lower arms back and one round her neck and another round her forehead, made it impossible for her to move her head at all.

When the woman produced two U-shaped holders each on a long steel pole, from under the small table, a very, very uncomfortable feeling began creeping up inside her. Having most of her body already immobilized, she could just watch as the woman pushed the U-shaped things into fitting holes on the sides of the chair, lifted her legs up, and finished the arrangement by straps round her ankles, and on the point where her legs met her body.

The woman smiled at her own handiwork, checked everything and tightened a buckle here and there.

"Now -- you are ready, slut."

Then she left by the door opposite the one they had entered through.

She waited. Strapped like a sausage to the chair. Trying to see if she could move, but the woman had known exactly what she was doing. She could wriggle her toes and fingers, but the rest of her body was strapped painfully tight to the chair.

The head harness had a round hole, where the top and button of her lips stuck out -- around the gag. As the harness was also very, very tight, her lips were pressed firmly against the gag. Efficiently preventing any sound from coming out that way. The only sound, she was able to make, was the noise she could manage her vocal chords to emit from somewhere deep inside her. A noise that would probably not be noticeable just a few feet away.

The woman came back. This time accompanied by a man.

She had taken the trolley with the rest of the leather belts with her when she had left, but was now rolling it in again.

Then man had a black crew cut, short stubble, and was not very attractive. She judged him to be around 30, but already with a pot belly sticking out and overstretching the black t-shirt, he was wearing.

He had rather worn, black leather pants on his still slim legs, and combat boots on his feet.

He stood in front of her and took a good, long look.

She looked back. Very much aware that he had a perfect view up her vagina.

He bent over and began to check the straps. He even found reason to tighten a few of them on his inspection round. Making absolutely sure, she was unable to move at all.

Then he took a pair of thin, black, latex gloves from the trolley, and snapped them on.

In the meantime, the woman had messed around behind her and now pulled the trolley alongside the chair.