The Submission Factory Read online

  But it was another sensation that took me over the top and plunging down into an abyss of bliss. As I felt Angel's tongue worming on my clit and her fingers fucking my sex Madam Celine's cool hand cupped by buttocks, caressing the weals the cane had left there. I couldn't separate the pain from the pleasure, they were simply one rush of sensation. I found myself quivering from head to toe as my orgasm shook through my body. Even in the midst of these shuddering sensations I realised that being bound and spread so helplessly, not even able to touch my own sex, had added another level to my orgasm. It was a good job I was held so firmly in bondage because I don't know how I would have managed to stay on my feet after such a sensory assault.

  As I recovered my senses, hanging limply from the leather cuffs, a new need asserted itself. Even after such a wild climax I found my sex aching for the feeling of a cock thrusting into me. I was turned on by sex with a woman, but I still wanted a man. The thought of it made my sex spasm and I couldn't suppress a moan.

  'Come here,' Celine said to Angel. 'You know how doing this turns me on.'

  I watched as Celine sat on the bed and opened her legs, the rubber parting to reveal her shaved sex. I could see she was glistening with her juices. Angel knew what was required of her. She knelt on the floor in front of Celine, who raised her legs and draped them over Angel's shoulders. As Celine's high heels dug into her back Angel pressed her mouth to the woman's sex, just as she had to mine moments before.

  Celine gasped. Angel moved her head from side to side and I could hear sucking noises. Celine fell back across the bed, her head lolling over the other side as she started making little squeals of pleasure. The squeals turned to the sort of cries I heard as she'd sat on my face. I saw her rubber-covered limbs stretched taut. My clit throbbed as I watched the two women together.

  Angel stopped, but did not pull away until Celine had recovered and sat up. Then both women got to their feet.

  They unclipped my wrists from the chains and my ankles were freed from the metal bar. They forced my arms behind my back. Both the wrists and the elbow cuffs were then clipped together, straining my shoulders back and my breasts forward. A leather collar was buckled around my neck and a chain fitted to it, like a dog leash. I had been made to eat like a dog now, apparently, I was to be led around like one.

  I was made to sit on the bed and Madam Celine drew the sheerest black stockings over my legs, stretching them until every wrinkle had been removed. Then they pulled me up and eased my feet into black high heels; the heels so high my feet were almost vertical and I found myself tottering, unable to use my arms for balance. Madam Angel gripped my shoulders to steady me.

  Angel picked up a leather blindfold. She fitted it over my eyes and strapped it tightly at the back of my head. There was thick padding on the inside which made it impossible for me to see anything. I was plunged back into a world of darkness.

  'Open your mouth,' Celine said.

  I felt a ball being forced inside, pushing my tongue down and making it impossible for me to close my lips. It was strapped in place, two going around my head and one going vertically up over the centre of my head to meet the other straps at the back. It had apparently had been designed to accommodate my nose.

  I felt a pull from the leash. I walked forward tentatively, finding it hard to balance on the shoes. After a few steps I felt the texture of the floor change. It felt like stone or tile. It is a very unpleasant sensation to be pulled along in complete darkness with your arms tied behind your back and no idea where you are and what you might bump into. I mistook my step several times and received a sharp slap of what I was sure was the tawse across my buttocks. I had to trust the women to warn me of any obstacle.

  We walked for some minutes, turning left and right. The texture of the floor changed again. From the clack of the high heels on it this was definitely wood.

  'Stop.'

  I felt someone pull my wrists up, forcing me to bend forward. I was pushed backward and felt my arms being pulled over some sort of support which rested under my shoulders. As my wrist cuffs were tugged downward and I straightened up again I heard a clink of metal as they were secured to what felt like a post running the whole way down my back. My legs were forced apart and something was attached to the ankle cuffs so I could not close them and my sex was exposed. In this position I was arched up and my breasts forced out, the strain on the muscles of my arms and back creating an acute pain. Whatever was under my arms was solid and supported my weight.

  I became aware of a musky perfume. I started as a hand ran over my left breast. It circled both of them then caressed my shamefully hard nipples so tenderly I could not help but moan.

  'She's very sensitive.' A man's voice, the first I had heard since I'd woken up. Disorientated by being bound, gagged and blindfolded, let alone by my shattering orgasms at the hands of two women, I did not recognise it immediately. But when I did I was glad I had been gagged and blindfolded otherwise I'm sure I would not have been able to stop myself from giving the game away. The voice belonged to my husband, Tony.

  Whether it was the same hand that then pinched by nipples one by one, twisting them, I did not know. I felt fingers caressing my thighs above the stockings. I realised there was nothing I could do to prevent the hand penetrating me or doing anything else it wanted to pleasure or torture me. I was powerless.

  'Let's get on with it,' Tony said. I could hear excitement in his voice.

  I listened intently. I had the impression there were other people in the room too, though no one said anything. I wondered if one of them was the brunette. I don't know why but I couldn't get rid of the idea that I was the centre of attention and that they had come to see whatever was going to happen to me.

  I felt a hand slide down between my open legs. It was coating my labia with something slippery and warm. It cupped by sex then worked from my anus to my clit. It was the most delicious sensation. Even after my orgasm I felt myself preparing for another.

  I should have learnt my lesson. Pleasure and pain, isn't that what they said? I felt a sharp pain burn through my left nipple. I knew immediately what they'd done. I'd felt the same pain before when I'd had my ears pierced. They'd pierced my nipple. Something cold was being passed through it. The shock of it almost took my breath away.

  The hand had not stopped moving up and down my sex on the lubricant it had applied. I tried to brace myself for the pain that would inevitably occur again, but the hand was too persuasive. I felt my clit swelling and my orgasm blossoming once more.

  I gasped into the gag as the same intense pain speared through my right nipple. At the same moment my orgasm exploded from my clit. What I had experienced with Jack had been the beginning of a voyage of discovery I had taken in my own psyche, and my response to what I was experiencing now showed how far I had come on that journey. There was no doubt in my mind that the extreme bondage and whatever they had used on my nipples had provoked an orgasm off the scale of anything I'd felt before.

  The hand moved away. I felt juices leaking from my open sex and I was unable to control my body from trembling like a leaf. Both my nipples were on fire. I ached to touch them and soothe them and tried to move my hands though I knew I could not. As if reading my mind something cold and slightly astringent was wiped over both nipples, making me gasp, the sharp pain suddenly renewed as well as the pleasure that went with it.

  I had no idea what the purpose of all this was or where it would end, but whatever it was if it involved such sexual satisfaction I didn't care. This was what I had always wanted. This was who I was and who I am.

  'The pain becomes quickly associated with pleasure,' a woman said. It was not the voice of Angel or Celine but I'd heard it before. It was the brunette. 'Surprisingly quickly. And that is absolutely necessary to the process.'

  'Why is that?' Tony asked.

  'Because slaves have to be punished frequently. They must suffer real pain. But they must also want that pain and it must excite them sexually so that they are
in the right frame of mind to be useful to their masters and their masters' guests.'

  'Oh course, how clever. But can you do that with anyone?'

  'No, definitely not. There has to be a natural inclination to submission.'

  'And we know she has that in spades,' Tony said, naturally enough, considering the way he had found me with Jack. And of course that was why my nipples had been pierced. He had remembered what I'd said that terrible night he'd found us together. And here I was again, bound, gagged and blindfolded, the truth of what he had just said perfectly obvious by the state I was in. More than ever I knew I'd made the right decision to play along and see exactly what would transpire.

  'Perhaps we should have put one through her nose too,' he mused.

  'That can be arranged.'

  There was laughter.

  'I like her shaved like that,' he said.

  'That's what you asked for,' the woman replied. 'From now on you make all the decisions of how she looks and behaves. Some of the masters even go so far as to shave their heads.'

  Again I was glad I was gagged. That remark would have certainly made me exclaim with horror. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the 'treatment' I'd heard them talking about was intended to reduce me to a role of an unquestioning slave.

  I heard several pairs of high heels leaving the room. I felt the blindfold being unstrapped. When I opened my eyes the room was deserted apart from Madam Angel. It was a large square room with a polished wooden floor that looked a little like a small gymnasium. My arms were pulled over the top of a T-shaped frame and my ankles were clipped to metal rings set in the floor. Extending from my breasts and up to a ring in the ceiling were two thin wires. I looked down, and saw they were tied to two gold rings that pierced my nipples and pulled my breasts upward!

  'Don't you look pretty,' Madam Angel purred.

  Chapter Three

  'Why didn't you answer any of my calls?' she said angrily.

  'Because I didn't feel like it.'

  'I thought you wanted me.'

  'Perhaps I changed my mind.'

  He had tucked a little white card with gold lettering into the waistband of her panties as he pulled them up around her hips on the night of the party. She had been trying his number for days and always got the answerphone. She'd left dozens of messages.

  After the FFN party Barbara had tried to pretend to herself that she didn't want to see Jack Harkness again. But she couldn't stop thinking about him and what he had done to her. Her sex life prior to the party had become a diminuendo of inactivity. Her husband seemed very little inclined to make love to her and when he did it was a matter of routine, the same position, the same brief foreplay and the same even briefer penetration culminating in his orgasm and very, very rarely in hers. She would masturbate lazily once every five or six days with a vibrator, but hadn't really felt any urgency or inclination to do more.

  But now all that had changed. Since the party she had become acutely aware of sex. She had been unable to prevent herself from feeding her biggest dildo deep into her vagina and making herself come, sometimes as often as three times a day. Each time it was the vivid, almost photographic memory of what Jack had said and done to her that was running through her mind as her orgasm exploded. Each time her orgasm was of the same intensity, even when it was the second or third of the day. What happened at the party was the most erotic experience she'd ever had, and in the end she decided there was no point in denying that.

  Today she'd already called him three times and was almost surprised when finally, at six o'clock, he answered the phone. His rich voice made her shiver.

  'Can I come and see you?' she asked. She tried to make her tone more conciliatory, afraid that her anger would backfire and he'd put the phone down.

  'What for?'

  'Jack, please...'

  'I'll expect you in an hour, and don't be late,' he said in an irritable tone. Leaving no room for discussion he hung up.

  Barbara was supposed to be going to a dinner of the Society of Metal Manufacturers at the guildhall with her husband. She would be missed but there was no doubt in her mind that if she had a chance to see Jack again she was going to grasp it with both hands. The chauffeur was waiting downstairs to take her to the office where she was supposed to meet Tony, so she phoned and told him she wasn't going to the dinner and he should go and pick up her husband at the office. Then she phoned Tony. Fortunately she had an excuse; her friend Mary was ill and she told him she felt she had to go and help her get her supper. He sounded cross but that was nothing new.

  She quickly ran upstairs and rifled through her lingerie draw looking for something provocative to put on. She wanted Jack to see her looking like a whore. She selected a red satin basque and black stockings with a red seam, which she'd bought when first married. In those days she'd always worn something seductive for her husband, frequently greeting him at the front door in it, when he got back from work. It usually had the desired effect, often getting him so excited they'd never even made it to the bedroom. Those days were long gone. She fastened the basque, smoothed on the silky stockings then pulled on a simple black dress and her highest black heels. She didn't bother with panties. They were, she hoped, surplus to requirements.

  Half an hour later she got a cab and had it drop her off at the corner of Kensington High Street and Melbury Road. According to the address on her card Jack lived in a mansion block. She found it easily and rang the highly polished button on the panel of buttons on the entry-phone. The lock on the front door buzzed and she pushed her way inside.

  The building had a peculiar smell of wax polish mixed with an underlying hint of damp. She travelled up in the lift to the sixth floor. She tried to calm herself but her heart was pumping in her chest and her hands were sweating. She found his flat and rang the doorbell. Almost before she'd lowered her hand the door burst open.

  'You're late,' he said angrily.

  He stood in the doorway wearing a red silk robe tied at the waist. His legs and feet were bare.

  'You'd better come in. I haven't got time for this.'

  'I'm sorry I just...' She couldn't think of what to say.

  'I was just getting dressed.'

  He closed the door and strode off down the long corridor, his naked feet slapping on the wooden parquet floor. She wasn't sure whether she should follow him or not.

  'Come on,' he said irritably.

  She hurried after him. He had turned into a room at the end. She followed him and found herself in a large bedroom. There was a bank of wardrobes down one side and a large double bed covered with a cream counterpane.

  'So what do you want exactly, Barbara?' he said. He took off his robe. He was naked underneath. His body, which she realised she had never seen before, was coated with fine black hairs, his stomach flat and, like the rest of his body, muscular. His pubes were dense and his cock circumcised. He went to the wardrobe and began taking out some clothes.

  'I thought we needed to talk.'

  'About what?'

  'About what happened between us?'

  'You told me you didn't have affairs.'

  'I don't. You were... just... you were so...' She couldn't think of the right thing to say.

  'Spit it out.'

  She looked at his naked body and felt a surge of desire. What she actually wanted to say to him was that the sexual experience at the party haunted her, that she had been unable to think about anything else, that she still shuddered every time she thought about it and that for the last two days her sex had seemed to be on fire with need.

  'Go back to your husband, perhaps he'll give you what you want, if you ask him nicely.'

  'I want you.'

  He turned to face her, throwing the trousers he was holding on a chair.

  'No, you want what I can give you,' he said.

  He strode over to the chest of drawers at his bedside, opened the top drawer and took out a pair of metal handcuffs. They jangled as he held them up.

  'Th
is is what you want, this is what you're panting for. Well isn't it?'

  'No... I mean...' The words would just not come out right, but she knew what he said was true. She didn't want to admit to herself that the sight of the handcuffs dangling from his hand made her sex pulse.

  'Turn around.'

  'No,' she said. Her heart began to pound again. Roughly he grabbed her hands, pulled them behind her back and clipped the handcuffs around her wrists.

  'There, that's much better.'

  She didn't understand. She could have resisted him but she didn't. Her clit was throbbing and she could hardly breathe she was so excited.

  In seconds he had reduced her to a quivering mass of expectation. No man had ever made her feel like this.

  Jack stood in front of her. His cock had hardened and was now pointing at the ceiling. She couldn't take her eyes off it.

  'What are you looking at?' he said.

  'You're very attractive.'

  'What I need from you Barbara is action, not words. Kneel.'

  Barbara felt another sharp pulse deep in her sex. That word and the way he said it excited her. She dropped to her knees in front of him.

  'That's better.'

  'Now how many do you think you deserve?'

  'I don't know what you're talking about,' she said meekly.

  'You know what you want, Barbara, don't pretend to me. The party was just the beginning for you, just a taste. I know why you've come here. Didn't I tell you that I have this special talent for knowing? I know everything about you. We're going to start with six. If you are not perfectly obedient I will double it.'

  She shook her head as if to try and clear her thoughts. She had no idea what he was talking about. 'Please, I don't...'