BONDAGE BROKERS by Jurgen von Stuka
From the Author of Summer School
Frank and Ellen are an attractive and successful New York couple, who are totally devoted to the BDSM lifestyle. Away from the bustle of the city, they enjoy their kinky pleasures at their beautiful country estate in the Adirondacks. In this secluded hideaway, they are joined by an elite group of masochistic friends and associates, who enjoy spending time in steel cages, or chained to a steel ball, or bound and suspended in elaborate fashion, gagged, hooded and impaled. Frank and Ellen broker bondage and related activities for those seeking safe, sane and expensive sex where there is strong control and uncompromising safety.
Arriving guests are soon chained and locked away in tiny cells in one of several sub basements where they’ll stay much longer than a single weekend; some stay forever. All of them will spend their visits in confinement and restraint with chains, rope, wire, rubber and leather bondage. They’re pierced, impaled, whipped, flogged, spanked and fucked by both genders, degraded and entombed in rubber and coffins. The cells in the basement are real, as are the racks, steel frames, crosses and suspension harnesses. While the cells provide opportunity for solitary contemplation, the old barns and woodshed with its twin whipping posts provide off site sessions for more kinky play.
While most guests may have an idea of what’s in store, Patty is whisked off to the estate by Ellen, unaware of F & E’s elaborate plan to save her from her miserable life with a long stint in their sub-basement. Another new sub, Katy, joins the bevy of submissives as a new employee at F & E who discovers a strong fascination for bondage and other bdsm exploits when she accompanies Ellen to the estate. Little does she know what kinky things the couple has in store for her.
Though some vehemently deny it, and some need to be “coaxed” to admit it, most go to F & E’s Adirondack getaway because they crave this unique environment where their tastes are coddled to the extreme, and their ultimate fetish/fantasies can be safely indulged.
When she woke up, she was hanging in the chains, gagged and blindfolded. Her wrists were killing her and she had to think that this was because she’d been hanging there with all of her weight suspended by her wrists. The cuffs on each wrist were thick and very heavy. Even though she couldn’t see them, she knew that they weren’t handcuffs. They were something more sophisticated than the handcuffs she occasionally used herself. The same was true for the cuffs that held her thin ankles to the spreader bar. They were heavy and thick, attached as though they were permanent.
I must have passed out, she thought, still trying feebly to free her hands and feet, mumbling through the gag and astonished that all of her clothes were gone. What the hell happened? I must be dreaming. This is one of those dreams, she thought.
Struggling with her bonds and trying to find some sort of rational explanation to her predicament, it occurred to Patty that maybe someone had been lurking in or around the cabin and had kidnapped them all as soon as they went to sleep. Another option which she didn’t want to contemplate was that this was some sort of trick or game that Ellen and Frank were playing on her. After all, she thought, they supposedly do get off on being tied up.
Time passed slowly and Patty thought she heard sounds overhead. Then there was the sound of a door being unlocked and opened, and boots coming down a flight of creaky wooden stairs.
“Hey, Patty,” she heard Ellen say happily. “Enjoying your break in period, Hon?”
“Mummph,” growled Patty into the gag, shaking her head.
“Okay. Okay, Kid, I’ll get you out of this,” Ellen said as she slowly peeled away the tape and cloth that covered Patty’s eyes. “There, how’s that?” she said cheerfully.
“Mummph ay agggg,” Patty shouted back, staring at Ellen and trying to get her eyes adjusted to the dim light in what was obviously a cellar, probably under the house, she thought.
“Chill out, Hon,” Ellen murmured, cupping Patty’s soft breasts with both hands and squeezing the nipples lightly. “Everything’s under control….and so are you. Aren’t you glad you got rid of those crappy clothes?”
Patty struggled to move away and get Ellen’s cold hands off her breasts, but there was little slack in the chains and she could only swing a bit from one side to the other.
Ellen released her grip on the hardened nipples and stepped back, surveying Patty’s hanging form as though she was looking at a new piece of furniture for her apartment. Patty suddenly realized that Ellen was no longer dressed as she had been when they arrived the night before. She now wore a tightly fitted and revealing leather body suit that looked like it had been made especially for her. Patty knew that Ellen had trouble finding clothes that fit her and that she liked. Her remarkable figure was not on any clothing designer’s mannequin. When she got to talking about it, Ellen simply referred to herself as “all tits and no ass”, which pretty much summed up her shape. As a teenager, she had been a Tom Boy, bean pole kid with no shape at all, straight from shoulder to ankles. No waist, no flared hips, no thighs that widened below the hips. She kept this figure for more than a decade and nothing changed except that suddenly, in a matter of months, she sprouted real breasts that grew faster than she could buy new bras to accommodate them. At times, according to her, she was forced to wear a bra she bought a month before and now her tits were falling out of the cups, making her look like some sudden fatty that was trying to stay in the underwear she had as a kid.
Ellen often talked about her sudden blossoming chest and the story was consistent to the point where it obviously had to be true, although again, office rumor had it that she had simply gone on vacation and gotten a great boob job.
From what Patty could see Ellen’s breastworks were no boob job. The leather body suit, with its tightly laced closures on arms, legs and waist, exposed more than it covered and Ellen’s breasts rode high and firm in the open front and deep neckline of the suit. The edges of the suit’s front zipper appeared to be within a fraction of an inch of revealing the nipples. Patty noticed for the first time the hard, rounded outlines of rings through each slightly hidden nip. The hips and ass were, as far as Patty was concerned, nicely done as well, so if plastic surgery was the source, it must have been frighteningly expensive.
The legs of the suit were tucked neatly into brown leather riding boots with, Patty also noted with some shock, silver spurs strapped on each heel. Around Ellen’s neck was a matching leather collar with several bright metal D rings and on her wrists were matching leather cuffs. The collar was locked with a chromed padlock at the back closure.
Patty’s head spun with what she was seeing and feeling. Ellen’s hands on her body made her feel strange and her inability to talk or free herself made it even stranger.
“How about a drink, Patty? You’ve been there for a while. You must be thirsty,” Ellen said, walking into the darkened area of the basement and coming back with a hiker’s aluminum water flask. “Want some lemonade?” Ellen said, offering the flask to Patty.
“HUMMUN,” said Patty, nodding vigorously and moving her head towards the outstretched hand.
“Fine. You get a drink, but you are also going to have to settle down and cooperate with Frank and me,” Ellen crooned, the water bottle still extended. “Do we have a deal?”
Patty rolled her eyes and seemed to be asking what the deal was, but realized that she really had no choice. So she hummed again and nodded. Ellen unfastened the tape over Patty’s stretched open mouth, pulled out the soaked wad of cloth and offered the open flask.
“Kan eye haff my hands free,” Patty sputtered through dry lips, trying to form the words and make sense of all of this.
“What?” asked Ellen, laughing and retracting the bottle-holding hand.
“Please,” Patty tried again. “May I have my hands free?”
“We’ll see. We’ll take a vote, maybe. But meanwhile, take a drink.”
Patty opened her mouth and Ellen poured in a swig of the cool lemonade. Patty swallowed it greedily and motioned for more. Ellen obliged.
“Now, Patty,” said Ellen amicably as she put the flask down. “Let’s make a deal.”
“Okay. What do you want? Why am I chained up here? What’s going on?”
Patty fired the three questions so fast that Ellen just held up her hand and said, “Stop, stop. One thing at a time. We wanted you to join us this weekend because we think you will enjoy our style of entertainment. We did some research and found out, for example, that you tap into some interesting web sites. You seem to get rope burns on your wrists and arms now and then and have, shall we say, other interests that we know about.”
Patty looked at Ellen in amazement. How could she know?
“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t look so surprised. You belong to some of the same on-line sites as we do and you occasionally leave your office PC connected to a few interesting places, like the ‘Girls for Tying’ site, or ‘Kidnapped for Fun’, for example. Your on-line history reveals even more. You should be more careful.”
Stunned, Patty looked away. She had not even considered that anyone she knew would be able to check her web surfing history.
“So, to help get you started in reality, instead of just on the PC screen, we set this weekend up. The coffee was spiked and you were tired anyway, so you made it easy for us. We got you down here a few hours ago, waited until you were almost awake and then hung you up so you’d wake up with a new perspective on your life.”