Chapter Two

The CBT called Greg ten minutes after he gave John his request. They discussed, in detail, exactly how he wanted Andrea bound for dinner.

“What sort of material do you want us to use?” Minerva, The CBT, asked.

“Material?”

“Chain, steel cable, rope, fabric, leather…?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” he interrupted. “Especially since this is on such short notice, Minerva,” he added amicably.

“….Silk scarves, hemp rope, nylon ties, ribbons, lingerie…?” she continued.

“Enough, thank you,” Greg said more loudly, suppressing a laugh at Minerva’s persistence in offering her wares. “I do have one suggestion though.”

“Of course. Thank you, Mr. Greg. That will help, I’m sure.”

“I was,” Greg interrupted again, “thinking of some sort of sheaths for arms and legs.”

“That is easy, but do you want her to be able to feed herself?”

“Well, perhaps. I am not the doting type. I’d like to share the food and drink easily and was thinking of a sort of retractable wrist restraint that would, on my command, release enough for her to use a knife or fork, pick up a wine glass and enjoy the meal, but it could be retracted in some way.”

“That is certainly possible. I will try to have it available for you tonight. It may be a bit unwieldy as I haven’t actually made anything like it before. But I have a good background in prosthetics, so I may be able to come up with something. If not totally functional, perhaps symbolic?”

“Do the best you can, Minerva. Everything here has been impressive, so I’m certain you will make it interesting as well. Call me if you have any questions.”

“Thank you, Mr. Greg. Andrea will be delivered to your apartment at, shall I say, 7:30?”

“That will be fine. Oh, by the way, when might I expect my own attire to be delivered?”

“I think you’ll find the valet outside your door right now, Mr. Greg.”

The musical doorbell rang. Greg said good-bye to Minerva and went to the door. Another gorgeous, model type, brunette in impossibly high heels, black high-topped hose, a black bikini thong and a starched white formal shirtfront with white bow tie stood at the door. She bowed slightly and easily pulled a garment cart with several hanging bags into the entryway of the apartment.

“Good evening, Mister Greg,” she said softly, her perfume preceding and following her into the room. Greg noted that the shirtfront had only a collar, but no back and no sleeves. A narrow white fabric band encircled her tiny waist, securing the shirt’s stiff, ruffled front over her breasts. “I have brought you several outfits. You can choose what you want to wear tonight and I can assist if you wish.” She smiled a brilliant smile, standing comfortably erect on her towering black patent leather shoes.

“I think I can manage,” Greg said, quickly flipping through the hanging garments, all of which were apparently brand new and covered a wide range of contemporary men’s evening wear.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” the valet asked, moving slightly closer to him and pressing her stiff shirt front against his arm, the breast and nipples beneath clearly stressing her point. “It is only fourteen hundred hours. Perhaps I can help you relax before your evening begins.”

“Ah, what do you have in mind?” Greg asked stupidly, knowing full well that if she pressed his arm any harder his own stiffening member would answer the question.

“Perhaps we should make sure everything fits,” the valet said, reaching for her belt buckle and snuggling even closer. As if on cue, the formal shirtfront she wore broke away at the collar and the waist and Greg found the front of his Sea Island golf shirt nearly pierced by twin rock-hard nipples, each tastefully decorated by a large gold ring.

“My name is Leslie,” the valet said softly into his left ear as her hands removed his belt and pushed down his trousers until they were around his knees. She brought up her right foot, inserted the front of the shoe into the crotch of the trousers and pushed them further down so that he instinctively slipped his bare feet out of the pants.

“Leslie,” Greg said. “I think that, in the interests of total relaxation, we should get out of the foyer, don’t you?”

“Of course, Sir. Bed or bath?”

“Sorry, what?” Greg stuttered as he tried to get his feet totally out of the slacks and was working on removing his shirt while Leslie was, to use the hackneyed term, all over him.

“Bedroom or bathroom, Mr. Greg?” she asked more urgently.

“Bath,” said Greg. “You get that cute little ass in there and, by the way, chain yourself to the wall on the right. Put a nice gag in as well and you can wait until I get ready. Got that?”

“Yes, Sir,” Leslie spouted with enthusiasm as she turned on her steeple heels and marched quick time into the massive bathroom, her firm ass moved in an enticing rhythm while her breasts bounced and swayed with her quick steps. As Greg attempted to pull himself together, he was thinking that the last thing he wanted right now was to totally exhaust himself on this lovely valet. The planned evening’s activities with Andrea were paramount in his mind, but this opportunity, like so many already explored while he had been here, was too good to miss.

In the bathroom, he heard the sounds of chains being moved and then silence. Greg waited a few seconds and then walked into the tiled chamber that was basically an entire living area outfitted with not only every bathing and toiletry convenience, but with a large inventory of BDSM gear as well. Leslie was on the right, facing the cool green tiled wall, a huge breather’s gag strapped into her mouth, a leather blindfold over her eyes and her wrists in thick, chromed manacles held closely together behind her back. A thin, chromed chain went through the twin rings on her nipples and was attached to a heavy eyebolt mounted high up on the wall. She stood on her toes, her heels a few inches above the backs of her shoes, stretched to the extent of her somewhat extended breasts and nipples. Her chrome shackle-bound ankles were connected by short chains to large floor-mounted rings. Standing on her toes, the heels of her shoes elevated an inch off the floor and with her head thrown back, she looked quite uncomfortable, as though she was staring at the ceiling. With her magnificent breasts stretched by the nipple rings and chains, her breathing was slow and even, but with each breath, the chains seemed to tug further on her nipples and she emitted a quiet, high-pitched cry.

She was perfectly posed, Greg immediately thought, for a thorough flogging as her reward for being so overtly forward with him.

“How would you like it?” he asked, pressing himself against her curved, stretched back, his hardened cock instantly seeking the narrow space between her clenched buttocks.

“Uh, uh,” Leslie mumbled around the gag. Her hands immediately gripped his cock, gently, but urgently squeezing and massaging.

“Not in the ass?” he asked, laughing as his enveloped dick probed further below.

“Uh, U ann aye ooo aht U aunt,” she bubbled, slowly rotating her ass and seeming to embrace the exposed tip of his cock with her butt muscles.

“I’m sorry, Leslie,” Greg said. “But I have a heavy date with Andrea tonight and I’m not sure we should be doing this right now,” he said, making no effort to disengage.

Leslie stood even higher on her toes, tilted her waist enough to bring her ass up slightly and then, as Greg marveled at her skilled hands and body, actually jammed her ass onto his cock, her rear portal engulfing his cock and swallowing it as though some sort of suction device was dragging him into her. Greg, after a moment’s surprise and hesitation, pressed forward, reached around her and grabbed her stretched breasts, his thumbs and forefingers holding each of the nipple chains so that he wouldn’t harm her ringed nips, then drove himself deeply into her ass.

Leslie responded actively, rotating, humping and dragging on his impaling shaft so that Greg wasn’t really doing anything but holding onto the chains and pushing with all his strength, going as deep as he could go, holding back on his immediate urge to ejaculate. Leslie, her head full back so that her scented hair covered his face, shook her entire body, vibrating with and against his thrusts. The sounds coming through the breathing hole in the gag were a mixture of total submission and sexual pleasure. On impulse, Greg released his grip on her tits and unstrapped the gag, pulling the fat rubber penis-like probe out of her mouth and then fastening his own mouth over hers, pulling her head even further back with his other hand clamped into her long brown hair. They came together, shuddering and shaking like two teenagers who had just discovered orgasms. Then they hung there, she still stretched in the tit chains, he holding her hair with one hand and the twin suspending chains in the other.

“Bath…,” Leslie whispered when she was able to release her mouth from Greg’s.

“Okay,” he said, quickly unlocking the tit chains and holding her so that she didn’t fall to the floor after their strenuous action.

Still bound to the floor rings and with her hands chained behind her, Leslie looked into his eyes, winked at him and quietly asked if he wanted to unfasten her or if she should do it herself.

“You got into this. Get yourself out,” Greg said, perhaps too bluntly, he thought. But Leslie winked at him and cocked her head towards a stainless steel shelf on the wall nearby.

“The keys are over there. Could you undo one of the wrist cuffs, please, Mr. Greg?”

He looked at her with a grin and went to the shelf, took a set of keys and went to her ankle cuffs instead. The keyholes were well hidden and it took him a minute to find the right angle for the key. He released both chains and then, on a whim, pushed her feet together and relocked the shackles, leaving her only an inch or two of movement between her ankles.

“That enough for you to get around?” he asked, grinning.

“Plenty, Mister Greg. Thank you.

“Thank you?” he asked.

“Thank you for a great quickie ass-reaming,” Leslie said smiling.

“Well,” he said. “It was your idea. Now I’ll probably be late for my dinner date.”

“I’ll take care of that,” she said. “But I’ll still need a free hand to press the intercom buttons…unless you want me to pull the ‘need help’ cord over there.”

Greg unlocked the right handcuff and headed for the shower.

Leslie shuffled over to the wall terminal of the intercom, pressed a button and waited for the display to activate. When it did, the face of one of the female aides appeared. “How may I assist you, Leslie?” she asked.

“Mr. Greg is going to be a little late for dinner. Please advise the appropriate staff,” Leslie said.

“Of course. Mr. Greg, can you hear me?” the staffer said.

“Yes. Of course,” said Greg from the other side of the immense bath area. “Give me another hour, please. Miss Leslie here has been showing me some new valeting techniques.”

“Indeed, Mr. Greg. We’ll move your dinner date time up to 8:30. Call again if you need anything else.”

“Thanks, I will,” he said. The screen went dark.

“Do you wish company in the shower?” Leslie asked over her shoulder.

“Yes,” he said, ducking his head into the multiple streams of shower water. Leslie shuffled into the shower room, and headed for the open shower door. “You may,” Greg added, “want to take off the rest of the cuffs first though. Wouldn’t want them to rust in place, would we?”

“Oh. Okay,” Leslie said with a pout. “I’m going to do the scrubbing. You just enjoy the warm water. You’ll need all of your strength tonight. Andrea is a very energetic fox.”

Standing naked in the shower, Greg studied his reflection in the polished mirrored walls. He saw a man he didn’t know, a younger man who radiated the pleasures of his dreams. He knew that he was, from what he saw, proving that in his case at least, money can buy a lot of happiness.

III – The Web

Swinging Foursome

Chicago, Illinois, USA

(With respectful credit to the late Bob Bishop, who perhaps first portrayed the concept with his famous “plugging in” drawing and poster.)

Writer’s note: this story presents a visual puzzle that is perhaps easier to understand if you get a pencil and draw in some stick figures as you read. Otherwise, you may get lost in the tangle of tits, dildoes, chains and asses.

“You girls are really going to love this,” Dr. Werner said as he walked about the room, checking the placement of rings and pins set in the overhead network of pipes and within the hardwood flooring. The entire room was beautifully paneled in rich, polished hardwood, the expensive woodwork accented with brilliant direct overhead lighting. There were no windows. The floor rings were mounted in precisely countersunk holes and could be covered with wood panels when not in use.

At the moment, several dozen floor rings were exposed in a rectangular pattern that covered an area approximately eight feet square. On one side was a large leather duffel bag, open at the top. This was Werner’s version of a Doctor’s bag, but it contained an assortment of bondage and discipline gear, not medical equipment.

Werner finished his inspection and turned to his four lovely guests who knelt along one wall, their collars chained to rings three feet up. Each guest was bound in a different manner, but all were incapable of any serious movement beyond swaying on their sore knees and shaking their cocooned heads.

“This will be a great evening of entertainment,” Werner chuckled to himself, patting each girl on the head as he walked slowly down the line. His guests were apparently not entertained. They moaned muffled moans, mewed obstructed mews and groaned appropriately as the doctor tweaked a nipple, stroked a breast or pinched a buttock.

Otherwise, the women were very quiet and didn’t seem interested in the doctor’s next event. Each had spent a miserable night chained in a dark four by four-foot cell and an even less comfortable morning while the Doctor’s assistants prepped them for this occasion. Werner told each of them that tonight he’d have a small party for a few high end customers and that the four women would be part of the entertainment.

Now they knelt side by side on the hard floor, waiting for the session to begin, their heads sealed in combination rubber and leather helmets, their mouths full of inflated, soft rubber dildo gags and their arms and legs closely connected by the straps that left them no movement at all.

“Let’s start with you, my dear Linda,” said Dr. Werner. He dragged the tall, slim twenty year old blond across the floor to the group of chromed steel rings and positioned her on her back. First, Werner tightened the straps that held her arms behind her with elbows nearly touching, narrow straps at her wrists and elbows. Unfastening the ankle chains, Werner then pulled Linda’s legs up towards the ceiling and spread them wide. He attached each ankle to a wide, heavy, leather cuff that tightly grasped the extended limb and joined it to a hanging chain. The girl groaned as she tried to ease the discomfort in her arms and shoulders. She lay on her back, but her legs and ankles supported most of her weight. It was an uncomfortable suspension with her arms bound beneath her, but not particularly painful. She was slowly getting more accustomed to the Doctor’s preoccupation for odd and physically challenging sessions.

Werner then opened the front of Linda’s helmet. She unstrapped the heavy leather band that locked at the back and then unsnapped the mouth covering to reveal the threaded, hollowed out center of the gag dildo. Into this, he screwed one of the key instruments intended for this evening’s program: a forked, double dildo. This hard rubber device looked a bit like the classic cactus plant with the trunk being a screw-in base and the two branches sprouting upwards, parallel, but one shorter than the other. Werner tightened the fitting until it was snug. The outside covering of the cactus-like probe pressed against the girl’s stretched lips and teeth, which were barely visible because of the edges of the gag and the straps that held it deeply inside her mouth, with her jaws locked wide open.

“Looks like Linda speaks with forked prick,” chuckled Werner. He arranged the double dildo so that the larger of the two prongs appeared to be attached to her lower lip and the smaller was over it, seeming to come from the girl’s upper lip. The larger was some seven inches long and at least three inches in circumference, with deep ridges circling the entire length and a larger, rounder head. The material was a somewhat flexible, semi-soft, flesh-like rubber. The smaller probe was simply a duplicate in miniature, some four inches long and slightly less in circumference.

Susan Winter, twenty three, had been a junior at Vassar College before she accidentally joined Werner’s lab experiment. She was next. Werner unfastened her collar chain, pulled her to her feet, unstrapped her ankles and upper legs, then coaxed her over to the rectangle and had her stand over Linda, facing Linda’s hanging legs. Her black, high-heeled knee boots straddled Linda’s chest, close along side her upper ribs. Her boots were then connected by short chains with locking snap hooks to the floor rings under Linda’s armpits. Werner unfastened Susan’s hands, attached a heavy set of manacles to the wrists behind her back, then pulled them overhead and locked them to a set of rings in the ceiling. Susan’s helmet was then fitted with the same sort of double dildo as Linda, with the larger prong sticking out from her lower lip area, her head still tightly encased in her rubber and leather helmet.

“Next,” called Dr. Werner, as he unfastened Sharon Williams’ legs and collar chain then herded the smaller girl across the room to join the others.

“Let’s see what you can do to improve the duo,” said Werner.

Sharon was not interested in cooperating with the doctor. She had been abducted three days before and kept in a steel cage most of the time since. Allowed to relieve herself twice daily and forced to eat small meals and drink juice and water, Sharon’s arms and legs had remained bound with nylon cord nearly all of the time. The piercing surgery had enraged her because she did not even have her ears pierced and now was wearing these heavy rings in places she had never even considered for such jewelry. When the Doctor came to her, Sharon pulled back on the leash, but then gave in and followed the lead, stepping carefully since she could not see anything through the hood.

Other than the helmet and arm bindings, Sharon wore only the locking pair of 6-inch heels, her ankles connected with an 8-inch length of chain between the ankle cuffs. Werner positioned her over Linda, then pushed her down behind Susan until she was squatting with her buttocks directly in front of Linda’s chin, her knees on Linda’s shoulders and her feet back beside the girl’s helmeted head. Sharon’s arms were tightly bound forearm to forearm and wrists to elbows, pulled up and connected to the base rings on the back of her helmet. Werner carried out the same dildo attachment procedure with Sharon’s helmet, but with the double prongs set so that the smaller one was on top. When Sharon tried to twist her head away, she received a slight slap on the side of the head by the physician…more of a correction than a blow. Sharon stopped struggling and let the doctor screw in the fittings.

Werner then used a short chain to connect the top of Sharon’s helmet to a waist chain around Susan’s hips, with the front of Sharon’s helmet hard against Susan’s round, firm buttocks. The rubber probes nudged between Susan’s thighs.

“Now, just one more and we’ll be all set for dinner. Let’s see, where do you fit into this, Sweet Thing?” Werner asked his silent, remaining captive, Alex.

Compared to the others, Alex was tiny. Five feet tall and small boned; the girl had breasts that were greatly out of proportion to the rest of her body. She took a 38DD bra and often a larger one, when she could find one, but she remained in every other way a size 3 or 5 and this had always been a great source of annoyance to the college junior. Right now, it made little difference, as she was quite naked. She was unchained from the wall and shoved across the floor to join her new associates. Werner stopped the girl when she faced the three others and coaxed her to lie down on her back, her head under Linda’s suspended legs.

Since none of the girls had either sight or hearing, the entire exercise so far had been a confusing and fearful period. All had earlier in the day been bathed, shampooed and shaven of every hair except those on their heads. Each had had her nipples painlessly pierced by the laser drill and each now wore the stainless steel rings in each nipple.

Dr. Werner then went to the bag by the wall, pulled out a two foot metal chain and fastened it to the ring under Linda’s right armpit, the same one that now held Susan’s right leg captive. He threaded the chain through Linda’s right nipple ring, then through the left, pulling it tight. Then he locked it to the ring under Linda’s left armpit and next to Susan’s left boot. Linda groaned through the gag and helmet as the chain was pulled tight, pushing her back onto the floor and crushing her strapped arms while bisecting her breasts horizontally.

“Now, where were we?” Werner asked the silent and motionless Alex lying on the wood floor. The girl could not hear him and simply lay there, breathing through the holes in her hood. Alex, who until a few days ago had been planning a short vacation with her boy friend, Phil, was still unable to comprehend the events that led up to this situation. She had been shopping and entered a store in the East Village looking for nothing in particular. The clerk, an attractive girl about her own age, made small talk, asked her about school and then suggested they go next door for a coffee. One question led to others and Alex ended up spending the rest of the day with the girl, hanging around the store until closing time and then stepping into the back while the other girl locked up. She was not surprised when an older, but extremely sexy looking blond woman let herself in the back door and greeted them. She said she worked for a local physician and owned the store. She invited the girls to her home, suggesting they have dinner together. Alex had accepted with the caveat that she get back to Penn Station early enough to catch the last train home. They agreed and went to the doctor’s apartment. That was all she remembered. Alex woke up the next day, tied hand and foot with rubber-covered wire, blindfolded and gagged. Her wrists were bound behind her; elbows secured closely together, shoulders pulled painfully back. Wire encircled her legs at the ankle, above the knee and midway up her slim thighs. Her clothes were gone except for the tiny bikini panties and a matching soft triangle bra. Her mouth was stuffed with cloth and then taped shut. Yards of heavy duct tape were wound around her head, sealing her mouth and keeping all sounds in her throat. Someone had pulled the cup of her bra down and placed a metal clip on her left nipple, connecting the clip to furniture or a wall. When she tried to move, the clip pulled tight and her nipple screamed as though it was on fire. Her ankles had been pulled up behind her and connected to wire wrapped around her bare waist. Another length of wire had been drawn through her legs, pulled tight and bound in front at the waist. Just below her navel.

She had no idea what had happened and there had been little information to help her since that morning. She knew that other people had joined the two women at some point. Later, they moved her once in a car or van, but she was bundled into a tight sack and made no noise through the gag and hood that they placed over her head. Somewhere along the line, two men had taken over and carried her to the room where she now lay. That was how she had become part of the foursome assembled that evening in the wood-lined room. She was still trying to figure out what was going on, but she knew she was in deep trouble.

“Now, where was I?” Werner asked again to himself as he returned to the prone figure. Alex’s bare feet were locked to two long chains hanging from the ceiling. Using an electric hoist, Dr. Werner raised the girl feet-first until the 95-pounder was well off the floor. Her head was just above the floorboards. Her legs were almost straight up, her back bent and knees straight. Had she been able to see, she would have been staring directly into Linda’s spread and shaven crotch.

“Perfect. Now, Alex, you get the same little probes as your friends,” said Werner, screwing the double dildoes into place in front of her mouth, the smaller probe on top and the fatter, longer one at the lower lip level.

Doctor Werner next produced a small spray bottle from his seemingly bottomless bag of toys. He carefully sprayed eight times, as he walked and crawled around his charges. Four of the targets were the spread, clean-shaven crotches of the girls. The other four targets were the double probes each wore over their mouths. The spray was a wet and greasy, viscous liquid that stayed where it landed, running only slightly down the cactus probes or the inner thighs and ass cracks. It was a highly effective water-based lubricant, tested over many years by Werner and perfected to provide maximum lubricant stability as well as maximum sensitivity. The composition was liquefied vegetable oils, a non-toxic Teflon base and an aqueous, low volatility vehicle with the other compounds in suspension. “In other words,” Werner liked to inform his students, “it’s slippery as hell and it enhances tactile sensitivity to the point where a finger feels like a tongue.”

What followed would have by now been obvious to anyone who had observed the activity this far. Werner climbed around the four nude, sweating bodies, inserting each girl’s facial dildoes into the crotch cavities of the body posed inevitably in front of her. It was a complex task that Werner had diagramed first and then engineered in his usual detailed fashion. It was a case of making bodies bend at the right angle, apertures line up with probes and chains positioned with exactly the right tension. All of this took a long time. While doing this, Werner moved around his charges with the spray bottle of lubricant, applying more of the greasy solution to each probe and then to each of the eight waiting cavities.

Next, Sharon was moved back to a kneeling position. Squatting on Linda’s face, the larger probe guided slowly past her shaven lower lips, up and into her vagina, the smaller probe simultaneously lining up with and then penetrating her anus. The frantic girl struggled and grunted into her gag, trying to resist the unwanted dual impalement, but Werner was relentless, one hand pushing on Sharon’s shoulders and the other aligning Linda’s head until contact and penetration was inevitable.

From the bag, Werner had removed a handful of chains with locking end connectors. He now wrapped one of these around Sharon’s narrow waist, locking it tightly. Using another short chain, he connected the waistband, from the center of the girl’s back to a ring at the top of Linda’s helmet. A duplicate chain connected the front of the waistband, just above Sharon’s navel, to a ring on the chin of Linda’s helmet. This combination of waist, head and chin harness assured continued close contact, with enough slack so that as Sharon rose and attempted to free herself from the impalement, she moved less than an inch and then pulled Linda’s head up with her. The effect of this was soon clear to the kneeling girl and the dildoes slid jerkingly in and out of both anus and vagina. She quickly stopped struggling as she tried to deal with the erotic sensations churning through her body.

Werner now attended to completing the union between Sharon and Susan. She first bent the standing girl further at the waist until her arms were forcing her to bend her waist at a ninety degree angle, her upper body horizontal, buttocks thrusting directly into Sharon’s helmeted face. Again, Werner used a thin chain to circle Susan’s waist and tightly connect the top of Sharon’s helmet as soon as the probes were nestled deep inside Linda’s dual ports. Once the impalement was complete, Sharon’s helmet rings were secured to Susan’s waist chain and another was connected to the ring on her chin and tightened to the chain at Susan’s front. Susan now stood on the toes of her boots, her arms bearing most of her weight. Sharon’s’ helmeted head was warmly nestled between her smooth thighs and the two monster probes were jammed deep inside her. When Sharon jerked back, trying to free her head, the probes slid a short way out, then the chains took up the slack and Susan trembled backwards, teetering on the high heels, straining her upwards stretched arms. Whatever motion there was, the probes stayed deeply in their warm, tight little niches. The two bodies oscillated only a few inches, to and fro.

Satisfied with this arrangement, Werner wedged Susan’s head between Alex’s widespread legs and slowly forced the twin probes into the tiny girl’s two holes. Alex resisted with all her suspended strength. She fought to close her legs, but the straps and chains held them wide towards the ceiling. She struggled to reach her own crotch with her bound hands, but the manacles held her arms close to the base of her helmet and her pulling on this chain simply constricted the collar around her neck.

“Enough of this foolishness,” Werner muttered to the deaf foursome as he moved the cunt probe into place, inserting the head between Alex’s pink and shaven lips, lining up the smaller probe at the same time. Then with one quick and painful thrust, he jammed the two into the lubricated holes and locked the chains around Alex’s waist and to Susan’s helmet. Alex shuddered and shook, feeling the depth of the dual violation, trying vainly to understand why this was being done to her. Werner tightened the turnbuckles, pulling the two straining bodies even closer, enhancing the contact and driving the probes even deeper.

The final move was to guide Alex’s inverted head between Linda’s raised and spread thighs. As the prongs were trust home and helmet leather mated with Linda’s lubricated crotch, the short chains were connected to helmet rings and waist and pulled tight.

Eight dildoes were now lodged firmly and unbearably tight in eight resisting and quickly lubricated channels. The foursome was complete.

The phone rang…a light flashing on the wall signaled an incoming call. Werner went to the wall, opened a panel and removed a handset. He said, “Hello,” a bit gruffly and waited while the caller talked for a few seconds.

“Yes, my dear. Yes, honey, I’ll be home for dinner. Yes. It’s all worked out just fine. Let me fill you in on the scene here. You’ll love this,” Werner said in a chatty voice. “After all of this heavy breathing and long term planning and sweaty organizing, here’s what we’ve got,” he described the girls’ predicament slowly and in detail. Apparently the narrative brought both him and the caller considerable pleasure.

“Everyone’s got their own special position. Linda is lying here on her back, the little slut! You should just see how she wiggles that tight little ass! Sharon is kneeling over Linda with Linda plugged into her from beneath,” Werner continued, hoping the caller on the other end of the line was enjoying the narrative, forming an obscene picture of the scene in her mind.

“Sharon’s been a bit of a problem, but right now she’s got her face deep in Susan’s ass and Susan is standing in front of her, bent over and plugged into Alex’s crotch from above. Little Alex hangs by her feet, facing Susan, and is plugged into Linda, who lies below her with legs splayed wide in the air. Whew, what a lot of work these four are.”

There was a long pause while Werner leaned against the wall, idly surveying his work and seeming to listen to the heavy breathing coming through the receiver of the phone. The caller was apparently confused, because the doctor suddenly became impatient and said, “Look, lovey, I’m here and you’re there, so why not just come over and see this later? I think you need first hand exposure to this thing.”

The caller was not convinced, so Werner gave it another try.

“What the hell are you doing, an oil painting? Look, here’s the simple version, then I’ve got to go: Linda into Sharon. Sharon into Susan, Susan into Alex and Alex into Linda. OK? Got it? Good. Bye.” He angrily replaced the phone in the wall and slammed the panel shut.

“Gees,” he muttered. “Some people have no imagination.”

The great thing about this web, Werner thought as he strode back to the suffering foursome, was it could be expanded as he chose when new candidates came along.

As he made small adjustments, tightening the chains that bound hoods to waists, Werner congratulated himself on the previously undiscovered benefit of the arrangement: by moving one body, he could change the entire configuration. He also was contemplating the benefits and disadvantages of adding perhaps a fifth or sixth body to the sexual symphony he was creating.

By pulling Sharon’s head back, Susan was forced to move back and bend lower from the waist. Susan thus forced Alex to a more vertical position and brought Linda’s legs back as well. Werner experimented further. He discovered that he could get the foursome to swing for several seconds by simply pushing one hanging girl in one direction. Like a pendulum, the bodies sought to correct to the original position and the group swung the other way. Of course, as this happened, the probes worked in and out of the four struggling bodies. In response, the encapsulated heads moaned, groaned and whimpered, sometimes in synch and most often without any recognition of the other three present in the foursome.

Allowing the group to swing on its own, Werner dragged the leather duffel bag over to the center of the floor and began the next scene of his original, intricate play. He was by now beyond his original scenario, but this had worked out so well that he thought additional modifications could be rewarding.

He first connected the four girls’ nipple rings to each other. For this, he used lengths of slim, chrome-plated chain, identical to that often used for canine choke collars. Each length had small spring locking hook fasteners at each end and a chrome turnbuckle in the center. The snap hooks fit into the nipple rings and locked when the spring clip was released. To unlock them, a small stainless steel key was necessary.

Linda’s firm, but small breasts, already threaded with the tie-down chain, were now chained as well to Sharon’s nipples with two short, thin chains that ran nearly vertical between Sharon’s spread knees. Alex’s larger breasts, which had lain somewhat compressed on her chest because of her suspension, were chained to Susan’s free-swinging pair. Both young women moaned as Werner fastened and then tightened the chains. Four youthful breasts and four nipples were thus stretched and the connecting chains tensioned abruptly. Susan’s tits no longer swung, but were now extended away from her chest and pointed painfully at Alex’s extended boobs, which had assumed a sort of bottle-like-shape.

Happy with the web thus far, Werner ran another set of chains from Sharon’s nipples to Alex’s, pulling the full globes horizontally outward and away from her chest and applying additional tension in a slightly different direction. Sharon groaned deeply from behind her penis probe. Alex let out a tiny muffled whimper as she gulped air through her nostrils which were pressed tightly against Linda’s crotch. Snorting puffs of warm, steamy air, she fought the constant pressure of Linda’s dark crotch that surrounded her helmet-encased and sweating face.

Next, a longer set of chains was run down from Susan’s nipple rings to Linda on the floor. Another pair ran from Sharon’s nipples to Susan and another from Linda to Alex. Viewed from the side, the connecting chain pattern looked like a box with an “X” connecting the corners. Werner added tension to each set by further tightening the small turnbuckles in each chain until he had a tight web of silver chains interconnecting all eight tits. This chain web effectively stopped the swinging effect he had tested earlier. Finally, he tightened up the overhead suspension, floor chains and helmet straps. He wired two 9 volt, low amperage lines to the chain web, turned on the electrical current timers to each probe, flicked out the lights and left to get ready for his dinner guests.

In the room behind him, Dr. Werner’s human web shimmered in the dark, radiating sweat and an irregular mixture of muffled whines, mews, groans and snorts. The four female bodies vibrated, four sets of slim, rounded hips rotated and thrust and four youthful asses wiggled and jiggled. Eight youthful breasts shook and swayed in tension as their peaks were pulled and stretched by the chains and rings. Four helmet-encased heads pulled and pushed against sweating crotches and thighs. Eight dildoes vibrated at irregularly timed intervals and eased up and down narrow, well lubricated channels. Eight bound arms struggled against the straps and chains, calves and thighs ached and spasmed, forty fingers with carefully crafted and various colored nails, quivered and reached for release or something, anything to grasp. Underused youthful muscles stretched and contracted while entire bodies shook and shivered with orgasms as each girl experienced the results of the enforced ritual, again and again. It would be a very long evening for the foursome.

IV – The Tram

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

It was clear to her now. She was on the wrong tram. The windows were fogged up from the temperature difference inside and out, but judging by the looks she got from people aboard, she didn’t fit in to the after work commuter crowd with her somewhat disheveled long distance traveler looks, her wheeled suitcase and giant shoulder bag. Katrine was certain she was lost.

The first tram change seemed, now, in hindsight, to have been correct because the passengers looked and acted like people going into the city. The second change had been confusing with signs in Dutch that she could not read and unclear directions on each track. It was that second change that took her further away from her original destination and more than an hour away from her point of origin at the airport.

It all came about when she stopped at the kiosk in the terminal and asked for directions. The woman in the info booth was busy doing something apparently more important than helping tourists, so she fired off the directions faster than K could memorize them and then turned away.

The situation compounded itself in Katrine’s mind because Amsterdam, like many other large cities across the globe, has a multi-level system of ground transport and much of it seemed to overlap. To the residents, it made sense. To a non-Dutch speaking foreigner, it was a confusing, complex mess. But K was cosmopolitan enough to realize that it takes time to adapt to a new city and she was already regretting her fiscal-based decision to go to her hotel by tram instead of just taking a taxi from the airport, which would have cost about ten times as much as the tram. Now she was hopelessly lost, but decided to get off at the next stop and find a map, get better directions and at least reverse course.

The station she selected was not a good choice. It was run down and grubby, but stepping down from the tram and pulling her wheeled suitcase behind her, K’s eyes immediately burned and teared from the cold night wind blowing down the tracks. She paid no attention to the people who got on or off and concentrated on finding a map she could comprehend. This station was nothing more than an overhead shelter with no protection from temperature or wind and in a few minutes K was shivering from the cold, jetlag fatigue and frustration. She stood there looking at the tram/metro/train maps, trying to recall the nearest station to the hotel, her original destination. She drew a blank. She decided to go to the other side of the station and at least take a tram back in the opposite direction. Walking down the steps to a sidewalk and then crossing the tracks, K ran directly into a man and woman companion who appeared to be going the other way. The threesome collided and K lost her grip on the suitcase handle. She bent to pick it up and the woman said something in Dutch. The man answered her and then asked, “Are you lost?”

K nodded and attempted to go around the duo, but the woman moved closer, cast quick looks around them and then hit K hard in the stomach. K folded up, but the man put his arms around her waist and pressed a damp cloth to her face. She struggled only a moment and then passed out.

When she awoke, she was lying on the cold metal floor of a van or small truck moving at high speed. Her arms and legs were tightly tied with cord and there was some kind of cloth filling her mouth with tape holding it in place. Tape also covered her eyes. She could feel rope from her wrists stretching down to her bound ankles and forcing her legs back into a strict hog tie and there was more rope around her upper arms, bringing her elbows together. There was also rope around her neck and going down her back, perhaps, she thought, to her elbows. The shock of the sudden reversal of events, coupled with lack of sleep on the ten-hour flight and the tram ride all descended on K as she lay on her stomach in the van. She cried, the tears pooling around her eyes and then breaking through the tape and running down her face with a bit of mascara and make-up. In the background, above the road noise, she heard the man and woman talking in Dutch. The woman laughed often and they seemed to be having a good time.

“Hey, dollie,” the woman’s shrill voice penetrated the other noise. “You awake, honey?”

Katrine groaned.

“Oh, good. Sehr gut. Tres bon. Muy bien,” the woman shouted. “Are you a Brit?” Her male companion laughed and said nothing. Katrine grunted.

“English swine?” the woman asked, almost snarling.

Katrine shook her head as much as the ropes permitted.

“American?”

K nodded vigorously.

“Oh, good. We have struck gold. You just stay there for a little while longer then we’ll have a party,” the woman said. “A real party.”

K tested the ropes and found no slack, no release. She knew she was now in more trouble than she ever imagined and realized as well that it was all her fault. She had done the wrong thing more than once on this trip and now she was going to pay for it. Guilt-ridden thoughts of robbery, rape, humiliation and kidnapping ran through her mind. She chewed on the cloth, slowly reducing the stretching of her tired jaws, rolled one way and then the other and finally toppled over on her side, the rope around her neck tightening and making breathing difficult. She thrashed about.

Oh, my God, she thought. I’m going to choke to death before they even realize what’s happening.

But the woman was suddenly beside her, easing the rope strain on K’s neck and babbling in Dutch to her partner, sounding frantic. “A lot of good this will do us if she’s dead before we even get there. You tied her too tightly, Hedrick. Shit, the rope around her neck goes to her elbows and is much too tight.”

“So loosen it, Pamela. Loosen it, but don’t mess with the other ropes. We’re almost there.”

“I sure as shit hope so,” Pam replied, unwrapping the neck rope and making sure K was again able to breath.

A few minutes later, the truck stopped. The driver’s side front door opened and the man left. Outside, the wind blew with even greater ferocity and K again shivered.

I have screwed up big time, she thought, her mind churning with memories of past mistakes and the price she had paid many times for her indiscretions. This is my punishment. Once again, I will be punished for my stupidity.

Pam loosened the ropes, putting a short rope hobble on K’s ankles and allowing her to sit up with her back against the van’s wall.

“You’ll be inside soon,” she said in English. “It’s warm in there. You just do as you are told and we’ll all have a good time. By Monday you might even be back at your hotel if you’re a good girl and do as we say.”

Katrine shivered and waited until the man came back and opened the sliding side door. They wrapped K’s coat around her, hiding the rope bindings, and putting a fabric hood over her head. The hood was very porous and she was able to see a bit through the material. Then they helped her step down from the truck and guided her along until they went into a very narrow building wedged between two others just like it. They passed through a set of double doors and what looked like some sort of office and then down a hallway so thin that they had to walk single file and their shoulders still rubbed the side walls. K heard people around her but Pam and Hedrick kept a firm grip on her arms, guiding her along.

“What you got there, Hedrick?” Someone passing by asked.

“Tonight’s entertainment,” Pam answered. They kept moving and then stopped while a door was unlocked and all three of them entered. The door shut behind them.

“Sit here,” Pam said, pushing K down into a hard chair with a straight back. She and the man talked for a moment and then K was made to stand again while they took off her coat. Then back down in the chair. K continued to cry intermittently, by now terrified with thoughts of some sort of cult or weird party where she’d be the human sacrifice. K knew all about religious cults.

“Ok, Miss Morgan,” the man said finally. “I read your documents in your purse. I know who you are and why you are here. Here’s the deal. This is, as you may have already figured out, the Amsterdam Torture Museum and you are going to be the guest of honor here tonight. We are not ransom kidnappers or killers and we’ll let you go eventually, if you cooperate. This place is a popular tourist stop as well as a weekend retreat for our group. We are going to party for the next forty-eight hours. As our guest, we want to see a lot of you and it will be easier if you cooperate. Failure on your part to do as you are told will result in unpleasantness. Like this…”

K felt a double prick on her stocking-covered thigh and then an electric shock. She thought she’d been tasered and the shock almost took her out of the chair. The pain was terrible and lasted several minutes after the shock while Hedrick continued to lecture her.

“That was just a low power taste of what we can do. I hope you get it, honey. I really want to see you have a good time.” He was untying her now, slowly letting circulation back into her arms and hands. He substituted a cold pair of hinged handcuffs for the ropes on her wrists and pulled her arms back over the top of the chair back, using another short length of chain to fasten the cuffs down to a cross bar between the chair legs. This forced K to sit up very straight while Hedrick untied her legs and used more handcuffs to chain her ankles back on each side, bending her knees and locking the cuffs high up on the rear legs of the chair. With her legs forced wide apart, K found the position even more uncomfortable than the original hogtie. She tried to talk to her captors through the mush of soaked cloth in her mouth.

“Mmm muurgh mmaa mmph,” was all that came out.

“Don’t worry,” said Pam, who up until now had been busy somewhere else in the room. “You will get lots of opportunity to vocalize later. Save it for then. Everyone here will love to hear you scream.”