Instrument of Correction by JG-Leathers, M/f bdsm
Wearing full restraints designed by her master, Christine is strapped into a most diabolical chair for one of many painful sessions of training and correction.

Copyright (c) 2008 by JG-Leathers, all rights reserved

 John

        Christine sat rigidly erect in her chair; her face hidden beneath the gleaming silvery surface of the mask and hands scrabbling uselessly at the ends of their short tethers, attempting to get at the devices locked onto and into her body. As designed, the chains kept her hands inches away while she strove with desperate need, but of course she was prohibited from touching herself. Slowly she lifted them to position themselves above the keyboard and her fingers began to dance over it, at first hesitantly then faster and faster. She continued to jerk her head against the restriction of the too short, back-of-the-collar leash, still trying to free herself, but it prevented her from bending her head forward and the visual impact of the scene was compelling.

       The being attached to the sturdy chair was obviously female; this denoted by the large breast cups, the skirt and the waves of golden hair cascading out from under the tight rubber neck-tube of the helmet. What was stunning though, was the plethora of hoses and wires attached to the female’s most sensitive areas, and the manner in which she was held in place. Quite obviously, there was no escape for her and she had to do as she was ordered. Being under such pervasive control was a situation most young woman of her age would not be able to comprehend or withstand, but as my slave girl, she had no choice in the matter, and must needs submit or suffer for her rebellion.

       At last the typing lesson ended and she sat quietly trembling; her hands still poised above the keys. I flicked on the wall speaker and listened to the computer voice ...

       “Miss Christine, you surely must know that you did terribly! Your errors are a staggering eighty percent and your speed is far to slow! As a consequence, your correction will last for the next four minutes.”

       Christine immediately began to twist and jerk frantically against her restraints and her hands attempted to fly to her steel-encased breasts and pull away the torturing cups, then were once more snubbed short when they attempted to move towards her crotch to get at the torturing things locked within her loins, for these had also entered into the process of her correction. The collar leash had been shortened even more when her correction began, pulling her head back firmly into the padded rest, nearly immobilized, then she began twisting it back and forth in denial of what was being done to her body, silently pleading to stop her correctional discipline, but there was more to come. The portions of the chair holding her legs straightened slowly, then began to rise in front of the desk under the keyboard so that within a minute she was sitting with her legs pulled straight out. To add to her rapidly growing discomfort, they then gradually began to rotate to the sides, ever more thoroughly impaling her on the fearful invaders within her body! The movement continued until her legs had been dragged almost to a full, flat split, resulting in the crotch-piece and its evil, hidden, inner accoutrements being firmly clamped into her mound and up between her spread legs. Everything stopped moving. For a moment, she remained utterly still; even her chained hands arranged loosely on the desk, but then even this small freedom was denied when her Limiter chains were ratcheted into the arm rests of the chair! In seconds her wrists and forearms were securely clamped to the lightly padded platforms, but despite her fastenings she continued to pull and strain to free them. The rests began straightening and rotating upwards and back and only  stopped their movement when she was sitting with her arms spread wide just below shoulder level, pulled slightly behind her, expanding her chest so that her breasts were thrust out vulnerably into their cups. She could barely twitch.

       “As you can see, Miss Christine, your chair is quite talented,” commented the Mistress’ gloating voice, “Now, we shall proceed with your correction.”

       Held in this manner, Christine was permitted virtually no motion other than being able to breathe in panting and horrified gasps, then, when the discipline began to be applied, she vibrated violently against her multiple fastenings. I knew that beneath the sound-deadening helmet enclosing her head, she screamed madly for release or mercy, but the computer was inexorable and pitiless. It monitored her carefully, never applying a stimulus or set of stimuli that would cause her any real harm, but kept them at levels sufficiently high that she would do almost anything to escape its ministrations.

Christine

       I thought I was going to be pulled apart when the chair started changing! The exercises I’d been forced to endure had certainly improved my flexibility, but this was pushing my limits to places I didn’t want to go! When everything stopped happening I could do nothing more than take shallow, gasping breaths, but the tight mask forced air into my lungs while I sat trembling and impaled feeling horribly vulnerable, spread on the awful thing like a pinned moth. In my crotch, the cover-plate pressed firmly onto the flesh around my pubic bone, then the vibrations began, deep within my belly. At first they were mildly annoying, but when the clitoral machine began its pulsing and teasing, pressed firmly into my sensory nexus, I began to experience the awakenings of orgasm. I naturally tried to moan, but the sound was too loud, and my collar and the anal dildo flashed a series of agonizing shocks through my captive flesh! I bit hard on the gag-pad, stifling the scream attempting to tear itself from my throat, but next, the dildo started writhing and I did scream from the incredible sensations, being so thoroughly and helplessly straddled upon it! The discomfort and misery of my situation was magnified ten-fold when it then began to withdraw, only to have an inevitable, deeply-thrusting re-insertion: the twisting shaft pistoning slowly, literally screwing itself into me! My leg muscles turned rock-hard while I fought to pull them from the grip of the restraining clamps and my arms thrummed from the strain of trying to jerk themselves free of their bindings, but this was only the prelude!

       For what seemed like an eternity I had to sit and endure the mechanical rape, unable to stop myself from becoming further aroused! My body betrayed me, demanding more pain and more pleasure, and all the while my sex streamed with lubrication ... then, the things clamped to my chest suddenly came alive and I wailed from the added stressful sensations. The inner donuts around the bases of each breast suddenly swelled, garrotting my large, firm, and again fluid-filled mounds, then came a painful, merciless squeezing by the inner, ribbed rubber envelope over them, far worse than any mammogram! It was agony! A moment later I felt milk begin to spurt from my nipples when the suckling of the vacuum began. My ring-punctured nipples lengthened automatically when the firm little lips latched onto them. Their sensitivity to these manipulations rose higher and higher with each gasping breath I took and although the squeezing action became a little less painful, I still had to bite down fiercely on the gag-pad to stop my impending screams and the disciplinary shocks they would cause me to suffer. Mindlessly, mentally, I pleaded and begged with every promise I could think of for my Master to release me from my terrible situation, but everything was blackness and silence, except for the subdued hissing of my panicky breathing. In the back of my mind a door from Hell had opened and I was drawn slowly within.

       My pain tolerance seemed to escalate, but I was relentlessly pushed beyond even these raised limits, for suddenly, to my horror, the shockers too were activated! Everything else continued to happen and I opened my mouth as much as I could around the solid rubber plug, trying to voice a full-blooded scream, only to have it stopped by the speech inhibitor while it was being born. The electrical torture was administered to my breasts in gradually increasing doses until I thought I’d go mad from the painful, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, pulses and sequences. The base level of the shocks never decreased, but they were manipulated somehow so that they were desperately flesh-shuddering, and it kept getting worse and worse! In my crotch, the mechanical raping continued without hesitation or let-up, then the electrodes there were also activated! I automatically tried to cringe my belly away under its steel imprisonment; my abdominal muscles jerking and writhing of their own accord from the awful sensations! Through the haze of this discipline, the school Mistresses’ voice came over my headphones while I spun erratically along the path to a mindless orgasm.

       “Miss Christine! You have another two minutes of correction. You will then be released for lunch.”

       All I wanted was to escape what was happening to me! Right now!

       The pace of all the stimuli began to increase and change rate, so that they were soon heterodyning amongst themselves, driving me further and further away from coherent thought. Inside my very personal Hell, my sub-conscious grinned at me and whispered that there were more and worse things, and that I would eventually become addicted to them! I screamed and howled, mindlessly fighting my restraints while the pre-orgasmic plateau passed in a flash, and in seconds I was flying along the crest, urged on by the intense shocks and all of the other sensations. I vibrated in tune to the pistoning in my core while I rose higher and higher into the stratosphere of sensation and within the blackened interior of the mask and helmet, my face was bathed in rivers of sweat and desperate tears. I flung my head wildly back and forth frantically against the restriction of the collar’s leash to the chair back, straining to scream out my pleas for release but my pain tolerance crept higher and higher. At the same time, the levels of stimulation grew as rapidly, until, with the cataclysmic burst of an exploding star, I was flung, screaming out my paean of over-loaded ecstasy, into the black void of unconsciousness.

       When I at last re-awakened, the mask had cleared completely and the chair had resumed its normal configuration. Tentatively, I tried moving and found to my vast relief that I could bend forward easily, my collar leash having been freed and as well my wrist chains had been released, although my Limiter ones still dangled between my cuffs and waist. The clamps holding my ankles were open and I kicked my feet experimentally, enjoying my sudden freedom from the oppressive restriction. The Mistress voice returned to my headphones.

       “That will be all for today, Miss Christine. You may step out of your desk. Proceed to the coat rack and remove all of your classroom equipment. Kindly hang them up neatly. You may leave now, and I shall look forward to our class tomorrow,” her voice snapped off, leaving me entombed in a silent world once more.

       I fumbled with the straps to my waist, then, on quivering legs, stood slowly, finding that the clamps holding my Inhibitor Bar within the seat had also released. At the wall, I removed the mask and helmet, extracting my gag-pad with trembling fingers, then reached down and dismounted the evil hoses and wires to my breast cups, coiling them neatly before hanging them on their hooks. My leash slithered along the polished floor behind while I staggered to the now-opened door, constantly reminding me with uncomfortable little tugs and jerks, that I remained fully controlled.

       Dazed and frazzled, I drifted down to the kitchen and made myself some sandwiches and soup, then took my time eating the Spartan meal, staring wistfully out through the kitchen window to the world beyond the thick glass. I knew that that freedom was illusory, offering only other, more subtle forms of slavery than I was subject to, and yes, I also knew what my status was here, without equivocation for my chains and cuffs were utterly real and tangible.

       At one-forty-five I glanced at the clock then with dragging steps, made my way to the Playroom then inside, slowly extracted myself from my School Uniform in preparation for my scheduled and unavoidable exercise period. My Master’s standard instructions were that I was now also required to connect my breast hoses and wires while exercising, and I resignedly did so, shuddering when they once again snapped into their machined, mounting hardware. When finished, I walked reluctantly to the treadmill, then fastened myself to it and stood waiting for the command to begin. The consequences of disobedience were just too painful to even think about it.

       The rest of the day passed in a blur of inter-mixed sensations of constant, computer-controlled discipline, accompanied by irresistible and overwhelming orgasms. That night, I was once more ensconced in the bed in my cell and allowed to sleep, for the moment not having to suffer the nose-ring bondage I’d been subjected to for so long. Just before drifting off, I shook my head with wonder at what I had become; an almost pathologically controlled captive of the man I loved and would soon marry. It was incredible to me to think that only a year ago, I’d been out in the business world fighting tooth and nail for advancement and recognition. Now, I could care less. Sleep swept its dark, feathery wings over me and I snuggled as best I could within my sealed rubber cocoon, tugged once or twice against my inescapable restraints, and slipped quietly into an exhausted and dreamless sleep.