Thesis Pt. 06

Chapter 18: Elementary String Theory

Course 8 / Day 22: Course Progress Meeting

Participant Notes: Fifty

Ylena: Fifty's last session with me seemed to make a deep impression. Of all those on this intake, she seems to lose herself more completely in beatings than any of the others. She continues to show a willingness to follow her chosen path and to gain as many experiences as she can during her stay.

Jenny's Recollections.

I suppose I should have expected it. Thinking back it's surprising that there hasn't been any of it up until now.

Ylena and Jo appear outside the cells. We're all waiting there for the assignment of the day's duties. Ylena and Jo are talking quietly, pointing first to the cell next door to mine and then to one of the others further down the line. I can't hear them. Then Ylena takes out a single dice and tosses it up. Jo laughs and nods. Ylena throws the dice across the table and the two of them peer at it.

At once Jo turns to my cell and says, "You are the lucky one, Fifty. Come with us."

She opens my cell door, clips a leash to my nose ring and I follow her and Ylena up to the gym.

"Tell me, Fifty," Ylena begins. "Have you had experience of bondage?"

"Da, Gaspazha," I reply. "A few times."

"Not simple tying, just a knot or two. I mean real bondage? So you are quite immobile? Locked in the grip of ropes?"

I can see that what Gaspazha has in mind is more stringent than anything I've experienced before. I shake my head. "Nyet, Gaspazha. Not like that."

Ylena smiles. "Good," she says. "So, this is a new experience for you and some learning for Jo. She wishes to see what can be done and I, I am an expert, a nawashi." Ylena evidently isn't waiting for me to agree or accept her suggestion. She probably won't be concerned that I haven't the faintest idea what a 'nawashi' is either. "Now, moi slooga," she goes on. "Over there you see those ropes. Bring them here, the brown ones. Lay them out neatly on the table."

The ropes are in hanks on a series of hooks on one wall of the gym. They have been coiled neatly and arranged by diameter and length. They are in several colours; white, red, blue and a natural brown colour.

There are four hanks of brown rope. They are quite thin, perhaps only half an inch or so in diameter. I lay them out on the table.

"No, slooga, not like that. Lay them two on each side of the table the short ones nearer me, The long ones beneath them. In two lines."

I do as she says, putting them in place as neatly as I can. Precision seems to be important.

Ylena smiles. "Good, slooga. I am pleased the dice chose you. You take care with things." I feel proud; pleased that such a small act has attracted my Gaspazha's praise. "Now lay down between the two lines of rope. On your face. Hands by your sides."

I climb up onto the table. It is the last instruction she gives me, for the rest of the time her remarks are addressed to Jo.

"Shibari is not only concerned with immobilising the subject but also with the aesthetic result of the rope applied. We do not only bind but we aim to make the binding look pleasing and the form adopted by the subject as a result of the binding should be pleasing too. For me I also believe that we should seek to deliver the subject up to a state of detachment from the self; to a point where they are absorbed in the sensation of being bound at the expense of all else. This we do by intricate and exquisitely tight rope work. It is tradition to use the natural rope and that is what I will use now. I like the colours though." She nods across to the other hanks of rope.

"I see," says Jo.

"Yes, Three good colours. Like the Russian flag," Ylena says with a smile. "It makes a good look but for now we will follow tradition. See, we will start with the ankles and feet."

Ylena goes to work. I feel her draw a length of rope around one of my ankles. She winds it around the other; taking a number of turns and drawing both together immovably. She is taking great care to lay the rope precisely, so that each turn fits snugly against its neighbour. Although I cannot see what she is doing I can sense the neatness of her efforts. She takes more turns of the rope under the arches of my feet. Then I feel her pull my big toes together. A single loop of rope is sufficient to lock them in place. It is a curious sensation; my ankles and feet completely fixed but the rest of me still free and able to move, though without a word from my Gaspazha, I don't.

"So now, the wrists," I hear Ylena say. She binds my wrists with my palms back to back, she threads a strand around the base of each of my fingers finishing off with a knot that holds my thumbs together. With my wrists tied so, my forearms are tensed and begin to ache almost at once.

"Please help," Ylena says to Jo, Together the two of them bring me to a sitting position. "Now we make a karada, a rope dress." Ylena begins weaving rope around my body, across around and between my tits, fixing my arms to my sides. She positions the knots exactly, ensuring they sit symmetrically and the each length of rope is tensioned so that it pulls equally on the others. She works her way down my body until finally she pulls the rope between my legs. She looks at it carefully and then withdraws it and ties three lumpy knots, close to one another, in the rope. She puts it back and then pulls it taut. As she ties it off to the rope around my wrists, I feel the knots slip between my moistening labial lips and know that for every movement of my arms I will be rewarded with the sensation of the knots sliding across my sex.

"There are many traditional designs," says Ylena. "You can try them. Like a recipe book. I like to do this, too." She takes another length of rope and ties a large knot in its centre. She eases the knot into my mouth as a gag and then fastens the rope behind my head before joining it to the rope around my wrists in such a way that my head is pulled back and I am looking at the ceiling.

"Ah," says Jo, "and now you can see the karada better. I think I begin to understand."

"Exactly. This is the difference between simple shibari and kinbaku-bi, the aesthetic and erotic result. See how the rope remains tight across the body. The skill is in getting the tension just right. Now we try gyaku-ebi." Ylena moves me carefully and firmly so that I am laying on my tummy again.

"Gyaku-ebi?"

"I think when you see it you will say it is a hog-tie, but this is a very traditional kinbaku tie." Ylena continues with more rope. To me it certainly feels like a hog-tie as my ankles are drawn back towards my wrists. "With careful design of the harness, you can suspend the slave, tsuri." I give a groan from behind my gag. The idea of hanging naked cocooned in ropes does not appeal at all. "But I think this is too much for my little m-jo on her first time."

I agree with her. Ylena and Jo leave me on the table while they go over to the other side of the gym. I can see that Jo and Ylena are discussing the various lengths of rope and their colours and the challenge of working only with the traditional 7 metre lengths of rope, the importance of using only those knots that were traditionally used with hemp or linen ropes. They are, of course, completely unconcerned about my comfort. Locked in the harness of rope, each of my muscles begins to call out in discomfort. The only way that I can achieve any relief is to focus on each in turn trying to ease the tension from the rope by tensing one or other muscle.

The gymnasium disappears for me. I don't even feel the table really. It's as if I am suspended but suspended in some formless void where I can only feel the touch of the rope and the pain in my muscles and joints. Nothing else is significant, except the rub of the rope across my crotch.

I am suddenly aware that Ylena and Jo are watching me and I have no idea of how long I have been like this and how long they have been watching as I twist and strain within my, what did Ylena call it? Oh, yes, my karada Somehow I find that even more arousing.

Ylena looks across at me as I wriggle in the rope harness. "You see how she reacts to the ropes?"

Jo replies. "It's very effective."

"Let me show you some others," Ylean says. "I have a book over here."

I give a gagged squeal of concern as the two of them leave me again. I'm perched helplessly on the table while they go off to the other side of the room, standing with their backs to me and peering at Ylena's book. I'm worried about falling off, trying not to move more than I have to. Somehow the more I try to stay still the more I feel aware of the rope across my crotch. The slightest twitch of my body seems to pull on the rope and drag the knots across my labia. I'm getting wetter as I get more aroused and the combination of the effects of the rope and my situation soon have me panting into my gag and twitching more to pull the crotch rope against myself. Suddenly I know that I can't stop myself. My body falls into a crashing orgasm, my thighs and belly flex against the table in response and I try to keep myself from falling off. I give a whimpering cry, distorted by the rope gag as the waves of sensation crash over me.

The sound attracts Ylena's attention. She and Jo turn towards me. Ylena is smiling. I feel humiliated, strung up like this and laying on the table like some scientific specimen. And Ylena's technique worked of course. She must be feeling very pleased with herself. Suddenly I'm angry with myself and angry with her.

Ylena lays a hand gently on my head. I try to shake it free. "Hush, little m-jo," she says. "Enjoy yourself. It's not your fault. This is the power of the rope. Now let me free you."

She begins to unfasten the ropes. It seems to take even longer than when she was tying me. As each length of rope is removed she coils it carefully and hangs it back in place on its hook on the wall. Eventually I am freed. The gentleness with which she has treated me as she untied me has taken away my anger. Or maybe it's just the relaxed feeling I always have after an orgasm. "You wear the karada well, m-jo," she says.

"Perhaps I'll practice on her," Jo says.

"It is the best way," Ylena says. "Only through practice can you know how the ropes will follow the body and how the body will follow the ropes."

Jo nods. I can see she thinks it is a good idea. I don't think I'll have much opportunity to disagree.

Chapter 19: Sex And The Single Girl

Course 8 / Day 26: Course Progress Meeting

Participant Notes: Fifty

Jo: The shibari demonstration that Ylena provided gave us the chance to explore Fifty's response to bondage. In common with her other reactions she was quick to sink herself in the experience and further shibari sessions could be beneficial. Overnight surveillance has also shown Jenny helps herself off to sleep by masturbation. It is probably time to start helping her to explore her sexual boundaries and the idea of being the sexual property of her Master or Mistress,

Jenny's Recollections.

It is after breakfast that Jo takes me to one side. She takes me up to where I can make my weekly exchange of e-mails. I'd almost forgotten that it was time to do this again. This time, I decide to drop a note to Angela - it's inconsequential stuff, but I feel obliged to say something. There are a couple of chatty mails from Joe. His trip seems to be having all the usual problems that he tells me about, but he seems happy enough. I send him an e-mail in reply. I finish well within my fifteen minutes limit and look up towards Jo.

"All done?" she asks. I nod. "I hope you find this helpful. We think it helps to have some link back to the rest of the world. We know it can be a bit of a pressure-cooker in here. You need a little time to de-stress."

I don't say anything, but it doesn't really feel like de-stressing to me. Whenever I think about the world back at the university and home, I'm just confronted by the extraordinary difference between my life there and my life here and that feels pretty stressful to me. Mind you, I'm supposed to be thinking about stress, aren't I?

Jo begins again, "Fifty, before you start today's work, we need to talk," she says. I'm puzzled. Normally, Jo waits until the end of the day before we have a discussion on what has gone on and how I'm feeling. Why didn't she talk about whatever it is last night?

Jo tells me to stand and then sits herself down. She logs in with a different ID and starts up a new programme on the computer.

"I want to show you something," Jo presses a key on the laptop. A media player window opens and a video starts to play. It looks like it's been shot in one of the cells, shot from high up, near the .... Oh, goodness! I realise that it's my cell; that it's me in the bed in the middle of the picture. I think of the little red light that blinks in the ceiling of my cell when they put the lights out. "I'm sure you remember my telling you that we keep participants under observation from time to time," Jo says, "just to ensure your well-being."

I bite my lip and shake my head. I know what's coming next.

The girl in the video pushes back the blanket from her bed. It's clear that she has her hands between her legs. She's naked; how could it not be? I know that it's me, but it's like watching someone else. The girl arches her back, pushing her crotch forward against her hands. It's worse, the camera zooms in, the girl's hands and her crotch fill the screen. Jo moves the mouse and the sound comes on, too. "Ylena, Ylena, Ylena," I am repeating over and over again. And then, "Joe, Joe, Joe." The girl in the picture gives a whimper. She, I mean I, obviously comes and then lays back exhausted.

"It's not like you think," I start. I'm embarrassed, but I'm also angry that they've been filming me surreptitiously.

"Isn't it? Why not?"

"Because 'Jo', isn't you. It's my husband. It's 'Joe' I'm saying, not 'Jo'. Look in my file, you'll see."

"And what was I thinking? You said, 'It's not what you think.' I wondered what it was that you thought that I thought."

"I, I, I," and suddenly I realise that I don't have the slightest idea. I suppose I expected Jo to disapprove in some way. To feel that I shouldn't be doing what I was doing. And, I've felt exactly the same way about Joe too; assuming that he was making judgements about me, guessing what he feels, when actually I don't really know, because I've never really asked him.

"Look," said Jo with concern, "we are very anxious to make sure that nothing prevents you from achieving the goals you set yourself when you came here. We know that it's possible for sexual urges to be heightened by the situation here and we want to be sure that you have every opportunity to act out any fantasies that you have as part of the programme. There really shouldn't be a need for secretive sexual activity."

"Oh," I say. "I see." I'm anxious for the conversation to end as quickly as possible.

"And if you must, Fifty, remember it's 'Mistress Ylena' and 'Mistress Josephine' just to be on the safe side." Jo is smiling in a friendly way.

"I said it wasn't you, it was my husband."

"OK, that's fine, Fifty." I'm not sure if she believes me, or not. I'm not sure if I believe me, or not. "But, we still need to talk about this. In your application form, when you were asked if you were prepared to be involved in sexual contact with your fellow participants, you said 'possibly'. I just wanted to check whether your views had changed since you got here?"

"Changed?"

"Yes. Whether you had come to the conclusion that you definitely were prepared for such interactions, or whether you had decided that you weren't, or whether you still wanted to keep an open mind? We won't do anything that conflicts with your responses on the application form, you know that. But equally, we wouldn't want you to miss out on experiences, because of a decision that you made earlier that needs to be updated in the light of experience."

"I don't know, Mistress," I say, biting my lip. That's certainly true. I'd forgotten about the application form. I filled it in so long ago, or so it seems now. I guess I owe it to the research to experience this, though. It's true that I have been fantasising about sex with the other participants and the staff - and Joe, of course. I haven't been with a woman since I married Joe, well since I broke up with Angela, but it's hard not to look at Ylena or Carrie or Charlotte without going weak at the knees. But, I want to do these things with Joe, I've always wanted to do these things with Joe. It's just that somehow I couldn't ask, or he wouldn't listen or, well, I don't really know. And, there's something about Gerry too, I could just imagine myself.....

"Fifty?" Jo interrupts my daydreaming. I jerk my attention back to her questions.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Your mind seemed to have wandered off. I don't need an answer now, but I did want to give you the chance to reconsider your choice. All right?"

"Yes, Mistress." I make my decision. I have to say 'yes' for the sake of the research, I tell myself, and for Joe and me. Maybe, if I work this out of my system we can find a way back? Or, maybe I can work out how to get us both to where we're both happy. "I've thought about it and I think you should change that answer to 'yes'. Definitely."

"If you are sure, Fifty," Jo says, caringly.

I nod. "Yes," I say, "quite sure."

"In which case, there needs to be a change of behaviour. No more masturbating!"

I'm surprised by this, but I know I have to accept what Jo says. "No Mistress."

"Unless of course, you are specifically directed to by one of the staff. You will carry out any such sexual acts with the other slaves as you are directed. You will make your mouth, vagina and arse available, as required. You are the sexual property of your owners and you will behave as such. Do you understand?"

Jo says this so gently, smiling as she carefully enunciates the words. It sounds so reasonable and so natural. I am almost ashamed I held back when I made my original application. But, sexual property? Well, yes I, suppose that makes sense, a slave is property after all. My arse? I hadn't thought about that? I've never... Well no, never. Apart from when Ylena did that with the electrical probe. Oh! I hadn't even thought about that before.

"I said, did you understand, Fifty?"

"Yes. Yes, Mistress."

Jo turns back to her computer. "All right, Fifty. I've updated your file on the system. The staff will be aware of the change in your profile."

"Thank you, Mistress Josephine," I hear myself saying.

"That's all right, Fifty. We want to make sure that you get everything you can out of your stay with us. Now, what is planned for you today?"

"I have to see Gerry, Mistress. He wants to check that I am shaving my head correctly. And then, there's domestic duties and... "

"All right, Fifty. Off you go."

I make my way up to Gerry's room. He's not there when I arrive, so I sit myself down in the chair to wait. Minutes later, I hear his laughing voice in the corridor and jump up out of my seat. It would never do to be sitting down when he came in.

"Hey, honey!" He exclaims when he comes through the door. "If it ain't my white Diallo! I may have two of you ladies to shave, but you sure have the cutest scalp."

I smile, pleased to be complimented.

"Here to have your daily smooth 'n shine?"

"Yes, Gerry," I say.

"You getting used to it now??? That tan stuff working out?"

I nod. Gerry turns to his lap top. I know that the staff always check the files before they start a session, but this time I know what he's going to see. He doesn't say anything about that though, he just says, "Hop up on the chair honey. Let's get this done."