Gone for Six

Though we enjoyed our evenings, Jen's and Liz's day jobs kept them pretty busy. They both liked to act for JenLiz Productions when time and energy permitted, though Jen only took roles on top. But Liz knew from the punishment session that Jen had a submissive side, and gradually persuaded her to explore it more. Normally so elegant and poised, she needed an outlet for her wilder side, and every now and then we were able to provide it. Jen hardly ever cursed or used foul language, and of course never at work, but she could in bondage. I remember one especially juicy session.

On the whole, I prefer the pole to the St. Andrew's Cross. With horizontal spreader bars attached to the pole high and low, the victim's wrists and ankles can be beautifully spread using cuffs or shackles depending on the desired severity. Our attention is drawn to the helplessly secured human being, perhaps also to additional straps or ropes binding them, but not to the supporting armature.

Our helplessly secured human being that night was Jen, and she was stunning. Spread-eagled, ankles and wrists cuffed about three feet apart, she glowed with sexual energy. Her feet were slightly off the floor, her crotch resting on a saddle just like those used in the punishment chamber. It did not take all her weight, though. Three leather straps circled her torso, binding her tightly to the pole. One was just above her pelvis, the other two just above and below her breasts, and of course those two were cinched together, compressing her breasts erotically, but not so much as to be painful. There would be other ways to accomplish that!

Jen wore a bit-gag, fastened at the back to the pole. It would protect her tongue, and prevent her head from banging into the pole, but still allow her to swear all she wanted. Even today, years later, I can't get over how gorgeous she was that night, her perky breasts, a bit smaller than Liz's, projecting perfectly sculpted to her erect nipples, surrounded by the leather straps. Her long black hair cascaded past her outstretched arms behind and in front, further framing her bound breasts and tight stomach. The saddle was quite discreet. Although it provided an electrode on Jen's clitoris in addition to penetrating her fore and aft, it did not hide her beautiful pussy, which was as always neatly trimmed, forming a crisp dark triangle.

Whips and floggers were off the menu when Jen was on the pole. She took only the handle of those, but she liked electricity. Liz and I prepared her well to enjoy it that evening. Along with the various saddle electrodes we fitted her with electrical exercise pads on her thighs, abdomen and arms. Electrical pads on each side of both breasts would provide me, if not Jen, with special pleasure.

I would be the opener, Liz the main attraction, and I intended to present Jen to Liz well warmed-up. After finishing Jen's bondage, Liz and I both left the room, at least visibly. The dungeon at HOB has a one-way mirrored wall, and we went to sit for a few minutes in the comfortable seats on the other side while Jen ripened on the pole.

Most people enjoy seeing themselves in bondage, if they like bondage at all, and Jen was no exception. Though she saw inmates bound for punishment almost every day, viewing herself so spread and helpless, and so beautiful, was clearly turning her on. In the punishment chamber the victim's thighs are normally tightly secured to the sides of the saddle by a strap, allowing little movement. Jen on the other hand was spread wide, writhing and twisting on the saddle, straining against the straps binding her chest and pelvis. The exposed sides of the saddle were slick with the juices of arousal. Jen's delightfully proud nipples added further confirmation; she was ready for me, and I for her. I went back out, controller pad in hand.

Time for Jen to get back some of her own. Suspended, spread on the pole, she glared at me, but I had the power in my hand, just as she did every day, and she knew what it could do. I swept her hair back over her shoulders and stood away to revel in her nakedness. I moved in close and kissed her neck, then pinched her nipples hard. Jen snarled at me, but her glare softened slightly when I gently massaged them back to full erection as she squirmed against the leather bonds. Grinning, I circled my finger over the pad as the seconds ticked by.

"Just get the fuck on with it," she hissed through the gag after a minute or so passed.

"When I'm ready," I replied, waiting another few moments. I touched the pad, and Jen's beautiful breasts leaped upward.

"OW," she yelled. I touched the pad again, and her left breast jerked, then the right, then they both jumped deliciously skyward, bouncing a little at the top of their journey.

"Ouch, Ugh, OWW... FUCK YOU," she howled.

"Glad to oblige." I set her cunt penetrator grinding, with a little electricity in her butt.

"That's not what I meant, asshole," she hissed. Jen quit domming partly because she hated being topped from the bottom, but she herself took the cake in that department. Still, I really was glad to oblige, I was having fun, and Jen, breasts cavorting like young harts, was just superb.

"Oh, I thought you enjoyed being fucked electrically. How about this?" I delivered a stinging shock to her clit. She rose slightly from the saddle and surged against her bonds, flailing her legs furiously.

"YEOW -- God damn you, I'll have you in the chamber for that."

"You already did, dear," I reminded her, fingering the X on my chest, and stinging her clit once more.

"YEOW, SHIT. Sorry, I suppose I did. But go easy on my clit, OK."

"OK."

I sent her tits skyward once again.

"OUCH, Fuck you. FUCK YOU." I set them bouncing gently, then tested some of the exercise pads. Her thighs jerked, then her abdomen convulsed. She gave me a withering look, but I smiled back.

"The icy stare doesn't work when I hold the pad," I teased

"UGH," she groaned, her breasts still bouncing delightfully. "ARGGG." "UGH... UGH... ARGG..." she gasped as I rotated through all the exercise pads, her arms flailing against the security of her bound wrists. I experimented for several minutes with various combinations, together with some good shocks to her pussy and anus. She started to sweat and drool profusely as she writhed and twisted on the pole. This was way better than bondo-battle -- at least for me!

"How about a nice half hour workout?" I set the sequence going, and started for the door.

"Come ba-URRGH. Co-ARGHH. Come back," she finally managed to spit out between convulsions.

"OK then, just for one minute, but it'll be MUCH harder."

"Don't have much choice, do I," she admitted, the first real submissive words out of her yet. Sending a scrumptious jolt to her ass and pussy, I thrashed her legs, then her arms, then her torso, over and over, finishing by sending her breasts jolting upward twice more.

"OW, OW, enough, please, enough. Thank you, Sir."

I stung her clit fiercely for the impertinent joke, as I knew she didn't really mean "Sir".

"OW, GOD DAMN YOU."

Leaving the penetrators gently churning, with a slight electrical buzzing on her clit, I took one nipple, then the other gently in my lips, twisting my tongue as sensuously as I could around each in turn. Jen softened and writhed on the saddle.

"I love you," she whispered through the gag. "Please get Liz now," she pleaded. I left the room, kissing Liz briefly but intensely behind the mirror, then sat down as Liz took the pad and entered. The two women locked eyes for a full minute before anything happened, then Liz touched the pad, and Jen erupted, convulsed with agony, screaming.

"I HATE YOU. BITCH. AIEEE. FUCK YOU. OWW. GOD DAMN YOU."

These are two women who love one another? I don't think any man could inflict such pain on a woman he loves as another woman can. As I watched Jen struggle, gasping and thrashing on the pole I thought back to my session facing the steel band and wondered how Liz could be so cruel. But these women have trained themselves to be cruel and only they know what a woman really feels. That's why I don't live at the HOB, I thought. Maybe someday...

The session didn't go on too much longer. Jen thrashed and churned in her bonds under Liz's expert torment, then Liz brought her down to earth. She gave her the full four minute journey to orgasm à la chambre, Jen easing herself into submission and writhing with pleasure, then exploding in orgasm as I'd watched several times before. As she dangled exhausted on the pole Liz walked up and removed her gag, kissing her passionately. I returned to the room to help get her down safely, bringing a gown out with me to cover her and prevent her getting chilled. Jen was spent, atoned, released, happy. She wouldn't swear again until the next time she was bound, which might not be for quite a while. "Thank you, both of you, I love you," she whispered.

I loved Ariel, but I didn't want him around the HOB. I don't completely understand why myself, but it seemed that he idolized Jen more than would be good for either of them. But it may have been sheer petulance -- he played the piano better than I did. Ariel hated his name, which may be why he always called Liz "the Tormentor" and Jen "Six". I thought Ariel was a beautiful name, but some people had the misfortune to have parents too hip for their children's good, and Ariel didn't need that before his last name. After our year of recovery Ariel wanted a more conventional life, and eventually settled in with a widow and her teenage boy-girl twins, ultimately adopting them. They'd lost their father years before and found him interesting and fun, especially enjoying his music. Ariel worked hard and made a good living, which helped also. He and his wife loved each other and their children, but Ariel's predilection for bondage was anathema to her; Jen's X irked her even though Ariel was hairy and it wasn't that obvious. After getting the children into college they drifted apart, Ariel appearing again more frequently at clubs. We remained friends through all of this; I liked his children and visited from time to time -- playing four hands was always a hit. Ariel's daughter eventually went to conservatory -- I'll keep an eye on her when she finishes. His son, who got to know Michael, is now in graduate school studying neurobiology. Ariel did well.

But Ariel wasn't doing so well any more, and I'd arranged an invitation he couldn't refuse -- an invitation to spend the rest of his life in the House of Bondage with Liz, Sara, Jen and Michael. There was one catch; the invitation would be for five days. Notwithstanding, Ariel accepted gratefully. So with sadness at the thought of losing my friend, I took Ariel to the HOB that Monday morning, then continued on to JenLiz Productions. Ariel was of course anxious, but also elated -- the coming week would be, literally, the time of his life. He was dressed in a house robe, but just in case we were stopped, he also had on a tee-shirt and shorts. Before he left his apartment he strapped cuffs on his wrists and ankles.

Perhaps some explanation is in order. Recent developments in neurobiology have been astounding and for a while, profoundly disturbing; Michael, along with numerous other respected researchers, was at the forefront of this work. Although the mystery of self-awareness is still not fully understood, more is known every year. But the most astonishing discovery at that time was that Heaven and Hell, and everything in between, actually do seem to exist. Not in a literal sense, of course. Consciousness really does arise only from the mechanics of brain function, and when that ceases, life and consciousness do indeed end.

But only for outside observers. For the dying brain itself, time is frozen -- the final thoughts simply seem to last forever. Although mainstream in medical and scientific circles, this information had not been widely publicized, for good reason - it could rock society to the core. For if true, daily life could become paralyzed with anxiety. Accidental or careless death was horrifying to contemplate -- even the most ardent pain slut doesn't want to spend eternity being crushed beneath the wheels of a bus, though subsequent work relieved us somewhat on the Hell part. A prospect not much better is to suffer from a degenerative brain disease, drifting into a state of eternal non-being, a kind of Limbo. Ariel had a brain tumor, and wouldn't live for more than another half year or so. He was staring this dilemma in the face. A planned end to life was the obvious solution, but a healthy human mind recoils at the idea of ending its existence deliberately. If you know the end is near though, the obvious way to end it all is to go out with a bang, enjoying an eternal orgasm! Many practical problems stand in the way of actually implementing this, though. Suicide during masturbation is messy and difficult, and rather lonesome -- not the best way to spend eternity. Sex with a lover while being offed is better, but rather a bummer for the one left behind. The invitation solved Ariel's problem.

As tragic as his disease was, Ariel's timing was, as always, impeccable. Michael was also ill with a similar disease, and Jen was diagnosed with cancer of the spleen, which kills even the healthy incredibly quickly. Liz, Sara and I were stunned by this triple tragedy, the only thing making it bearable being the incredibly good time we'd all had for the years leading up to it. But Jen was not going to approach this any differently from the way she'd approached everything else in her life. She was going to make hay while the sun shone, for JenLiz Productions, Liz, Sara and me, for Michael, for herself, and after she heard about his condition, for Ariel. My concern about Ariel's relationship to Jen in the context of indeterminate life had an entirely different significance in the new context. Worshiping Jen was a distinct asset.

Once in the car, Ariel asked me playfully to bind his hands behind him, reenacting the beginning of a story we both enjoy, and I obliged. No leather thong was necessary -- I simply clipped his cuffs together behind his back and gave him a kiss. We soon arrived in the alley, the garage door rising as I drove up. After the door closed behind the car I helped Ariel out without releasing his wrists. Sara came through to greet us.

Sara is very pretty, a little younger and more buxom than Liz or Jen, also a little shorter. As a result her bust is quite pronounced, and she dresses to emphasis it. The clothes she had on that morning were completely street-legal, but they had a definite edgy dominatrix hint, like many fashionable women's outfits today. Her blouse had a high belt, almost a bustier, and as she moved it sometimes showed a bit of midriff above her short black skirt. She had tall leather boots, though the heels were relatively low and comfortable-looking. A leather jacket with chain detailing completed her ensemble.

"Welcome to the House of Bondage," she said to Ariel, smiling, as she clipped a collar around his neck. Attaching a leather strap, she started to lead him away. "See you later," she called to me as I got back into my car and prepared to back out, the garage starting to open behind me, Ariel and Sara disappearing into the house.

Sara took Ariel directly to the dungeon. Unlike in the other story, no bath was necessary -- Ariel was always careful with hygiene, and prepared himself well inside and out that morning. Entering the dungeon, Ariel was confronted by four rings in the floor spaced every three feet, and four sets of triple-chains hanging from the ceiling, each one centered roughly over one of the floor rings. Sara took off his robe and hung it on one of a set of hooks on the wall for that purpose -- the dungeon at HOB has comfort amenities not found in the punishment chamber.

The triple-chains are popular at HOB. Each triple-chain consists of three very strong but quite fine steel chains, hence the name. The chains exit from winches in the ceiling at three places spaced in an equilateral triangle about four feet on a side. The bottom ends join together at a steel ring about an inch and a half in diameter. A regular or suspension cuff may be clipped to the end of a triple-chain. Having one's wrists clipped to a pair of triple-chains is surprising the first time. Three chains when all taut meet at a fixed point in space, so the sensation is amazingly strict, like being bound to a fixed iron bar, though the fine chains are all but invisible. When the chains are loose the wrists have considerable freedom, but as soon as they are pulled taut the cuffs suddenly freeze in place and can't be moved at all in any direction, except by whoever controls the hoists.

This is particularly effective for an ankle suspension. The victim can be raised with ankles together. Once suspended a touch of the control can spread their legs by any desired amount -- they will feel as immobilized as if a spreader bar were between their legs, but they will look as if they are floating upside down in the air. The control system on ours allows the rings to be commanded directly to go forward or backward, left or right, up or down, the software controlling the winches automatically accomplishing the desired motion smoothly, exactly as programmed.

Sara fastened each of Ariel's wrist cuffs to a triple-chain, which were dangling about shoulder height. She then fastened his ankle-cuffs to two rings in the floor. After Sara secured his legs his wrists were about even with the top of his head. Touching the control pad, Sara suddenly tightened the triple-chains, and Ariel felt his wrists pulled upward and separated about three feet, spread-eagling him securely. The feeling was thrilling -- he was suddenly bound tightly in Jen's home, Six's home, a condition he had long imagined but hadn't ever expected to become real.

Sara removed his collar. "Won't be needing this any more just now, and you won't be needing these either," Sara told him, pulling on his tee-shirt and giving his neck a little kiss. "I'll be right back." She left the room briefly, returning with a pair of heavy-duty scissors. Snipping off his tee-shirt she ran her fingers over Jen's X, making Ariel shudder with pleasure. Cutting off his shorts was a little more work, but in a few seconds Ariel stood stretched and naked, and very excited as he looked at himself in the mirror. Sara lowered his chains to about elbow height, allowing Ariel to relax a bit.

"Make yourself comfortable for a while. I'll bring you a companion," Sara said cheerfully. For Ariel the idea of being asked to make himself comfortable in bondage bore no inconsistency whatever. He rested in his bonds, looking at himself in the mirror naked and spread, filled with thanks to his hosts as he contemplated the week ahead.

About ten minutes later Sara came back in leading Michael by the collar, hands cuffed behind his back and cuffs on his ankles, but otherwise naked. She attached his cuffs to the other pair of triple-chains and floor rings and removed his collar. Ariel and Michael were now bound naked side by side, facing the mirror.

"Michael will explain to you what happens next," Sara said, giving each of them a kiss on the cheek and leaving.

"Hi Ariel. Here's what's up. You and I are both hairy men, and Jen wants us to be smooth men. We're about to be shaved." Seeing Ariel's look of concern and knowing about his previous experience in the punishment chamber he quickly added "Don't worry, you won't be glued into a punishment vest this week!"

Before long two young staffers from JenLiz Productions, Josh and Ben, came in with a small cart of equipment; clippers, electric razor, even a straight razor and basin of hot water. Josh and Ben mostly do set design and fabrication, though for those clients who want makeup or special treatment, they can oblige. They also enjoy acting, and have been lovers on and off.