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Well here we are another year,and so many exciting lovely memories to look back on,and of course so so many exciting things coming up in this year. After calming my heart rate, I took off the dressing gown and got back into bed, but I couldn't get back to sleep, I just lay there imagining what he must be thinking of me now - flirty, then drunk, then half naked and aroused She tightens the laces gently at first and then with increasing ferocity, until I feel like I am encased in iron. At last the evening came to an end and, about midnight, I headed upstairs, as nervous and excited as a teenager on her first date, although not many teenage dates held the threat - or was it a promise - of bondage and wild sex as this did! Then upon their arrival they were forced to strip naked and perform acts that were not spoken about in polite conversation. Of course, I understand you might demur, in which case we would have to restrain you so you couldn't resist, possibly even gag you to prevent your cries for help being answered Again, I know I should have gone back to my room and try to ignore it, but for some reason I just sat there on the carpet at the top of the stairs, listening to my daughter getting what I desperately wanted.

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With her hands cuffed she cannot swing it hard but she is remarkable accurate and delivers a series of stinging blows to the soles of my feet this time instead of my buttocks. With Fifi's encouragement I make slightly quicker progress though Mistress' irritation remains clear and by the time I reach her I have suffered another dozen strokes, this time to my buttocks.

I lie at Mistress' feet, the shiny red leather of her shoes is inches from my face and I long to worship them, caress them with my tongue, but to touch Mistress without permission would earn me a punishment far more severe than any I have endured thus far today. Nevertheless, I am too slow for Mistress. I lie breathing heavily. I am looking up at the sole of Mistress' shoe which hangs above me.

It is a little too high for me to reach even were I permitted. Mistress leans forward and I watch as she flicks the ash of her cigarette over me, the flakes tumbling down onto my body. I recall the pain of previous encounters where she has extinguished the stub on my body, sometimes flicking it into my open mouth as a mark of her contempt. I lift my head, watching the ash fall.

I must be a pathetic sight looking up at her wide eyed over the strap of the head harness that crosses the bridge of my nose. I can see my breasts, tightly bound, the skin blue and shiny, my clamped nipples look like dark ripe cherries. I lower my head looking back up at Mistress who is leaning forward slightly. From this angle she makes me feel so small. She slides forward on her stool, uncrossing her legs and lowering her foot, the heel of her shoe coming towards my open mouth.

I glance up at Mistress and see her smile. I think this must be a sign that I may worship her and, as the spiked heel of her shoe passes through the ring of my gag, I lift my tongue to meet it, stroking the steel nail. The stiletto is smooth and I circle it with my tongue. Mistress pushes it in deeper towards the back of my mouth and I fold my tongue around it until her sole touches my lower lip.

The tip of my tongue caresses the leather. I try hard not to gag. Pleased, I hope, Mistress lifts her foot and then offers me the shiny red leather toe. I let my tongue glide over it and then lift my mouth to it, taking it within the ring of my gag to touch it with my lips. Mistress smiles and flicks more ash over me.

You have earned the right to worship me. At least it will take the strain off my clit.

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With another great effort, I land heavily on my tortured breasts and clamped nipples. Ignoring the pain I lift my head and squirm towards, Mistress. The distance is less than a foot but it takes me some time to reach her and, I think, she moves her foot back to make me grovel further.

However, I finally reach the object of my desire and am rewarded with the opportunity to worship it, licking the leather with my tongue and touching it with my lips. I lick and kiss one side of her foot and then the other, rolling from one crushed breast to the other and then lift my head, straining against my tight bondage to lap at Mistress' other shoe.

After a few more moments she stands with her feet together and, naked, bound and helpless I am given the opportunity to grovel at my mistress' feet, my tongue gently caressing the shiny red leather of both her shoes. I am panting hard, partly from exertion, partly from the pain in my breasts but mostly from lust. I squirm forward and run my tongue up one of the twin steel spikes that are her heels and, as I do so I press my sex firmly against the wooden floor.

You may have your pathetic orgasm. Then it will be time for our afternoon walk. There is a new module in the punishment suit which I'm sure you'll enjoy. I am naked save for the chains that keep me helpless and remind me of my submission. A short chain between my wrists clicks as I crawl on my hands and knees, another links my ankles making my movements small and rapid.

Chains running from my wrist cuffs through my nipple rings are linked to my clitoral piercing to keep my movements careful. Similar chains from my ankles run through rings on my thigh cuffs to my nipple rings. Thus I am kept on my knees, docile. A chain from my clitoris and two more from my nipples to my nose ring force me to keep my head down, submissive.

Mistress stops in front of Silver who waits to be punished, the slave's lovely body spread, hanging, her wrists held wide, her ankles chained apart. Silver is gagged, a rubber coated bit gag locked between her teeth that makes her drool onto her small neat breasts.

Silver is my fellow pet. We are not sisters but many remark on how similar we are with our sleek, lithe bodies and pert breasts. We are both pierced: Each cuff has a single ring that can be used to chain us; our piercings too are rings that can easily be used to intensify our bondage.

Silver looks down at me and I lift my head as much as my bondage allows; this close I think she can just about see me wink. As well as being my fellow pet, Silver is my lover and I know that tonight, if we are not too tightly restrained, I will be required to console her after her punishment. Such sisterly support will, of course, involve the use of my tongue and, if I am lucky and my bondage is not too strict, my fingers as well.

When one of us is punished which, in truth, is quite often, the other is usually kept more securely restrained explaining the intricacy of my current bondage. Our lovemaking during these times is usually somewhat laboured but extremely satisfying unless we have been really naughty when we are kept, sometimes for days at a time, in chastity restraints. Mistress tells me to kneel and I drop back, placing my bottom on my heels, a position that allows me to lift my head a little more and steal a glance at my lover before bowing my head again to demonstrate my submission.

I'm sure the movement has not gone unnoticed. Mistress does not miss such lapses. Perhaps, I hope that Mistress will punish us both, however, she appears to ignore me, focussing her attention on Silver. She is beautiful, our flame haired mistress, with her pale skin and intense blue eyes. She is dressed today in an outfit composed of a bronze collar and belt supporting diaphanous blue silk bands that swirl around her lovely, toned body covering yet not concealing her large, firm breasts, her taut buttocks and firm thighs.

When I allow my eyes to stray from the floor before me for a moment can see the dark pink of her big nipples only half covered by the silk and the little skirt that barely reaches the crease of her buttocks that is so fine I can see her thick bush of her pubic hair. She is a barbarian goddess and I am her conquered foe.

She is Countess Desire. We know Mistress loves us and dearly wish to obey her in all things but sometimes we just can't help ourselves. Silver nods. Mistress' hand runs down Silver's taut, brazenly displayed body, her finger hooking in the helpless girl's left nipple ring and pulling at is gently.

I see Silver's nipple swell in response to this treatment and cannot resist lifting my head to make the chain from my nose piercing lift my own nipple rings; I feel the pull on my clitoris too. Mistress' hand slips lower and her finger hooks Silver's clit ring, pulling it more firmly. I hear Silver whimper. As part of the punishment we have been kept apart, Silver in chastity restraints at the foot of Mistress' bed where she can hear the intense pleasure Mistress and I have shared.

Silver is thus, I know, in a state of sexual frustration. The punishment proper begins, the urticant wand. Mistress strokes it down Silver's helpless body following a route similar to that traced by her finger moments before. Unlike Mistress' finger, the wand leaves a fiery trail of red in its wake as the stinging venom is delivered into my lover's bare skin by the tiny spiked wheel in its head.

Silver whimpers slightly as a tongue of flame erupts down the left hand side of her body. Mistress circles her slave's left breast and then draws a line of pain across its fellow taking in Silver's right nipple. The expression on my lover's face and the soft whimper through her gag testify to the wand's power.

It is not Silver's first time being punished like this and, I am certain, it will not be the last. I have felt the wand's touch too, endured it's fiery kiss and writhed helplessly as it has been applied to my naked skin. I shudder at the memory recalling it's burning touch on my nipples and the apparently endless throbbing left by its passing, eased only by Silver's soft kiss after I was finally released from my torment.

I remember her lapping a mouthful of water then crawling to me, hands bound behind her back, as I lay chained to my cot and depositing a cooling kiss to my throbbing, aching nipples. It was only later I noticed the heavy weight hanging from her clamped nipples and the knee pads with their tiny spikes on which she had crawled to deliver succour to me.

Both Silver's breasts now shine, their skin stretched, swollen and red, where the venom has touched them. There are lines of fire across her belly and down to her loins. Mistress is moving in to Silver's inner thighs. The harness holding my gag in place is chained to the ceiling above me and prevents me falling; I am very aware of the chin straps that pull my jaw hard against the steel ring gagging me and the strap just a little too tight around my throat.

My breasts are still bound and the clamps still bite my nipples but the weight has been removed from my clit clamp. Fifi begins with a corset, a heavy black rubber sheath that wraps around my waist settling on my hips and lifting my tortured breasts. She tightens the laces gently at first and then with increasing ferocity, until I feel like I am encased in iron.

Breathing is a labour in itself and my waist is impossibly thin now like Fifi's but still Mistress inspects her maid's work, carefully checking the corset's tension before allowing her to move to the next step of my bondage. Shoes are slipped onto my feet and laced in place; these are toe boots, spiked heeled with pointed toes so that I am forced to stand like a ballerina.

At least they ease the strain from my neck and, at the moment, I cannot fall because of the gag harness. Fifi takes some time lacing up the thigh high boots which are so stiff that I will be forced to walk on my tiptoes with perfectly straight legs. When she has finished she hobbles my ankles though I am not sure this is strictly necessary.

Electrodes come next. Fifi sticks them to my buttocks, belly and breasts and then to the inside of my thighs above the boots and the side of my neck. I am about to be encased in sheer rubber and, though I know I will still be able to feel the whip, Mistress wishes to be able to punish me easily. There are wires that attach to my nipple and clit clamps too. Fifi gathers these and plugs them into the main distributor which she then lubricates and proceeds to push gently into my bottom.

Though I have come quite recently this treatment has maintained my arousal and I cannot help smiling as the pert little thing in her pink dress violates me so casually. The lead to the distributor hangs from my bottom like a tail along with wires for the dildo that is about to be forced inside me.

I know the wires will connect to my leash as I am taken for my walk so that Mistress can punish her helpless sex toy with the squeeze of her hand. The dildo requires no lubrication as I am still wet from my recent orgasm and my sex is becoming more slick as I submit to increasing bondage. The dildo and anal plug are held in place by a heavy crotch strap from the corset which Fifi buckles tightly between my legs; this puts delicious pressure on my sex and, as Fifi tightens it, slightly eases the pressure on my tightly bound breasts.

Next Fifi fits the bodice of the rubber dress I am to wear, buckling the high collar around my neck first and then fastening it down my body, compressing my throbbing breasts and smoothing it over my tiny corsetted waist; then she pulls its crotch strap tight. When Mistress is satisfied, Fifi inflates the garment and my body is squeezed further, the collar lifting my chin and the bust compressing my bound breasts while expanding hugely to make my chest appear enormous, particularly above my tiny waist.

The dress has a skirt too, a tight hobble skirt that wraps around the thigh high toe boots further hampering my ability to walk. I know mistress will set a grueling pace for her little rubber sex toy and that I will be punished repeatedly for my slow progress, particularly if I should stumble or, perish the thought, fall.

My bondage is nearly complete. I am a helpless rubber sex toy, slave to my mistress and I am very wet. The hood comes next, inflatable rubber, like my dress, that Fifi pulls over my gag harness lacing it tight around the chain holding me up and down the back of my head. It has a hole for my mouth to allow me to breath and to drool though my ring gag, a hole that can easily be filled with an inflatable gag or blocked to leave me gasping.

The hood can be used to isolate me completely and I have spent many hours in tight bondage enjoying the sensory deprivation it enforces, deaf, blind, my mouth and nose plugged so that my only remaining sense, that of touch is left exquisitely enhanced, deliciously sensitive to both pleasure and pain. At that stage as I am teased and punished I become Mistress' sex toy, turned on and off at the touch of her control.

I feel the hood inflate, hear the hiss, feel the pressure against my ears then my nose and my cheeks, the top of my head. My head and body are now tightly compressed, my legs held straight on the stiff thigh boots, toes en-point. I am forced to stand upright, neck erect, my absurdly huge rubber breasts thrust out, waist so constricted it is almost as if I am being sliced in half.

Fifi has removed the chain supporting my gag harness so that I am now dependent on my own sense of balance. The pump gag is then inserted into my mouth and inflated. I can visualise the inflation pipe and bladder bobbing gently in front of my head. I look and feel like the sex toy I yearn to be. Finally I feel my collar being applied. This is a heavy leather stock, padded and ringed, it connects Mistress' control to the electrodes which she will use to play with her toy.

It also links to sensors to that Mistress will know exactly how much pain and pleasure I am experiencing, exactly how aroused I feel. I will suffer pain, I will experience pleasure. I will come if Mistress chooses and, if she chooses that I may not come, there is no chance of disobedience.

I follow Mistress, blind and obedient, as she leads me from the building. I am used to this route; I realised some time ago it was a different one to that by which I enter and since that discovery I sought to imprint it in my mind, measured in the tiny hobbled steps I am forced to take. As we descend the steps to the street Fifi holds my arms to prevent me from falling.

Mistress sets a fast pace, fast at least for one in my situation, and I struggle to keep up, encouraged by the tug on my collar and Fifi's whip across my rubber coated bottom; my ankles are hobbled and I can feel the rubber skirt stretch slightly as I totter along on the tips of my toes with my awkward straight-legged gait. Yet, each step has its rewards, the crotch strap teasing my sex and the dildo moving inside me.

It is nearly an hour since I have come and in that time I have endured delicious and progressive bondage. I can feel pleasure rising inside me. It is almost ten minutes, I think, until Mistress first deigns to play with her toy. I sharp jolt to my clamped, crushed nipples and poor clitoris brings me obediently to a stop and I stand gasping unsure how air is reaching my lungs.

The electrodes can deliver a variety of stimuli from intense pain to the tiniest current that feels like the gentle caress of a lover's finger. I feel a soft ripple across my thighs and up my belly onto my breasts, my nipples respond to this, throbbing gently with a mix of pleasure and pain. The sensation builds, feeling something like a cool breeze across my hot wet skin.

Mistress leads me on and I follow, the tingling in my skin increasing until it is a hot rush of air and then the abrasive scurrying of tiny insects; then my flesh is crawling and I want to scratch it, tear at it, but I am bound and helpless and must endure. I writhe with a feeling that my flesh is being eaten, straining against the single sleeve, squirming, a slow dance of pain as I try to rub my burning thighs together, scratch my back with my bound arms.

I whimper through my gag. I feel I am about to fall over and part of me wants this so I can writhe on the ground to satisfy the intense itch in my skin. Then it is gone and I am left gasping. The vibrator starts along with a gentle buzz from the electrodes on my nipples and clitoris, a reward for my endurance.

My vision clears. Mistress can do this with a touch of her control, turning lenses in the hood clear so that I can see where I am and what I am. There are others like me here in the neon lit streets of this bizarre district where fetish fantasies come alive. Women on leashes clipped to collars and harnesses, nipples, clit piercings; women in rubber, leather, PVC, some naked; some crawl on all fours, others walk, many hampered by restraints such as mine.

I pass a blonde with huge breasts who follows a woman in a blue latex mini dress, the blonde has clamps on her nipples and the woman in blue leads her by these, she is strapped into a body harness, her arms sleeved like mine, an enormous red ball gag fills her mouth and she drools incessantly onto her huge chest, her saliva making the skin of her breasts glisten and shine in the tawdry light.

Another girl, a slim brunette, wears something that looks like a pony harness and is lead by a bridle attached to a rubber coated bit between her teeth, it is clear from the way she walks that her rubber knickers hold a large dildo inside her and probably, like me, a butt plug too. The woman leading her wears jodhpurs and riding boots and a white blouse that is unbuttoned to the navel and shows off her small neat breasts with their delightfully dark brown nipples.

A Goth in a long black leather coat leads a redhead whose leash is clipped to a nasal piercing; the redhead is naked aside from wrist and ankle cuffs. Another woman in a cat mask is lead by a collar, crawling one all fours, a tail bobs behind her held in place by a butt plug. I see myself too reflected in the window of a sex shop in which a mannequin is cuffed to a diagonal cross.

I am a bizarre caricature, with my smooth shiny rubber coated head, the bladder of the pump gag bobbing in front of it like a lapping tongue; my neck is thick and my pneumatic breasts huge; my torso shrinks to a waist that is truely an hourglass figure above the curve of my buttocks; my long legs taper inside the hobble skirt to the tiny points of my toes and spikes of the ballet heels; my arms wave uselessly behind my back.

Fifi follows me in her shiny pink dress, tottering on her heels, tawse poised and ready to strike. I can see Mistress too as she saunters gracefully on her heels, her bottom swaying deliciously, my eyes are drawn to the perfect buttocks wrapped tightly in her skirt and her long elegant legs where the seams of her stockings return my gaze to those shiny red shoes I love to worship.

Pleasure builds within me but I know I will not be permitted to come for a long time, Mistress will want to spend some time playing with her toy. I have much more pain to endure and more pleasure and I know that by the time Mistress permits my orgasm my mind will barely be able to differentiate the two sensations.

I hear Silver cry out through her gag and realise that mistress has returned to my fellow slave's nipples, teasing them mercilessly with the wand until they are two swollen nubs of pain, stretched well beyond their normal size even when Silver is aroused. I can see the tears welling above my lover's lashes about to spill over as she struggles to contain them.

Her blue eyes are wide, shining, her gaze focussed though, when Mistress pauses Silver cannot help but look down at the burning decoration upon her skin. I try to smile, to offer her encouragement and I think I see a flicker of response then Mistress steps behind her and strokes the wand down my helpless lover's buttocks increasing her agony.

Silver whimpers and I watch the tears spill onto her cheeks. Once, when we had been really naughty, Mistress lay us on our backs on benches side by side with our legs held up in the air and spread then applied the wand to our gaping unprotected sexes. Lying there with our sexes on fire we squirmed and pleaded through our gags, writhing without relief in our bonds for several hours before the pain finally subsided.

We were permitted to console each other that night and found our sexes, not surprisingly, extremely sensitive. Lying side by side, each cuffed into a loose hogtie, we enjoyed the pleasure of our bodies reacting intensely to the tiniest stimulation. We climaxed multiple times that night, the venom, no doubt, still affecting the nerves of our poor tormented pussies.

I remember us being completely exhausted the following morning. I do not think Silver deserves such punishment today, though I know it would be very easy for Mistress to slide the rod between my lover's spread thighs, increasing her torment further, though, of course, it might provide an opportunity for me to offer succour more effectively tonight.

I watch Mistress sweep Silver's long mane of golden hair over her shoulder so she can apply the wand to her slave's back. I see the pain that Silver feels even at the brush of her own hair across her sensitised skin as it hangs over her left nipple. TIFFANY I follow Mistress on my leash, my body still tightly confined though now so sated with pleasure I wonder that any of the stimuli around me can excite me further.

I have enjoyed multiple, intense orgasms at the hands of my mistress; I have endured much pain too. While I was brought to orgasm, my vision was again taken away from me so that all I had was the bondage and the pain which had itself become pleasure but, with my lust satisfied, my vision has been returned and with my mind less obsessed with the lust for sexual gratification I see my surroundings in a different light.

The tawdry neon signs still cast garish lights which still reflect off rubber bodices and steel cuffs, women still trail their mistresses obediently some tottering in bondage on ridiculous heels, others crawling. My body is still the same fetish golem. Mistress is still there, of course, in front of me, her perfect bottom in the short tight skirt with the seams of her stockings running down her long shapely legs, her hips still swaying on the shiny red heels that I worshipped an age ago and Fifi still totters behind me ready to administer a stinging slap if, for a moment, I slow my pace.

I pass the blonde again, the one with the clamped nipples who drools round her red ball gag onto her huge breasts and the brunette pony girl. They are always here and, I know, will remain after I have gone, awaiting albeit unknowingly, my return. We pass the sex shop again and I wonder why, in this strange world its goods are not modeled by a living, moving woman.

Beyond the sex shop is a brothel, then a bar that advertises its hostesses in leather bikinis and heeled boots. Then comes the general store with the blonde proprietress in her white blouse and tight leather trousers. I recognise other familiar features too, the sex shop has become a clothing store whose goods seem to be largely made from rubber and then, a little further on a bondage shop selling cuffs and harnesses, chains and collars, whips and paddles.

Further along it will display lacy red and black lingerie, stockings and waspies. I follow mistress back into the brothel, Fifi helping me up the stairs that are just within the limits of my hobbled ankles and then I am back inside, a different pathway to that by which I left, a right turn where it should have been to the left. I am a policewoman, I'm trained to notice these things.

Mistress hangs the urticant wand from Silver's right nipple ring, a reminder, should she need one, of the ease with which further suffering can easily be administered. Silver's beautiful body has been transformed into a distressing mass of swollen red flesh which will torment her for several hours before the effect subsides. I watch as Mistress blindfolds her, strapping a heavy leather strip across Silver's eyes; depriving her of one sense will, I know from experience, amplify the others so that, in this case there is almost nothing to distract her from the constant burning of her skin.

Then, with barely a second thought, Mistress take up my leash and leads me away leaving my slave lover hanging naked in helpless bondage, blindfolded and gagged, to endure her punishment and reflect on her sins. We have been slaves for two years now. Pets, lovers, obedient to our mistress, and utterly submissive though not without occasional forays into disobedience that earn us these sort of punishments.

Such naughtiness usually take the form of sexual encounters that have been prohibited to us, pleasuring each other when we should be doing our chores or reaching orgasm without permission from Mistress. Everyone knows slaves are not permitted to come without their mistress' permission but sometimes it's very hard being kept naked and in bondage next to a fellow slave who is also naked and in bondage, a slave who is so physically desirable and just as horny as you.

Frankly, when I think about it, it is surprising we are not punished more than we are. Of course, Mistress could keep us in stricter bondage, but where would the fun be in that? As I have mentioned, we are a matching pair, Silver and I, at least as close to matching as two unrelated girls can be, with our lithe athletic bodies honed by our mistress' training, our small pert breasts and our long hair such a pale blonde it is almost silver.

When we pull our mistress' chariot we attract many admiring glances from other women and, when we occasionally encounter them, from men. Who would not, I wonder, turn to look at a pair of lithe blondes toiling in harness under the whip of a woman such as our mistress?

We are, I think, ideal specimens of female slavery, our bodies trained to physical perfection, strong, toned, supple and, mostly, utterly obedient. She fought a surge of panic, struggling for a moment before realising she was still hooded, still strapped to the chair, plugged and wired.

She always felt anxiety at this point, sitting blind and helpless, the oral plug, the 'gag' still in her mouth, the straps restraining her at the wrist and ankle, elbow and knee, upper arm and thigh, across her belly, her chest and her throat, aware of the electrodes on her body particularly clustered around her breasts and sex, the clips on her nipples and clitoris, the two other plugs, one in her vagina, the other in her anus.

Naked, her skin slick with sweat, she shivered waiting urgently for release, straining to hear the approach of the technician, her hearing blunted by the earphones wedged in by the hood. Something brushing the backs of her fingers made her start and then she felt a pressure under her chin, a pull as the strap there was loosened and then the oral plug, sour in her mouth, pulled out in a rush of saliva.

She coughed and felt her collar being undone then the hood unzipped; then she blinked in the harsh glare of the immersion chamber with its concrete floors and steel struts. It was the blonde technician, the small one with the scar through her lip leaving her with a permanent scowl; the girl's hair was greasy, tied back in a limp pony tail; Tuesday could smell her, unwashed for several days though she was aware that after her sexual antics in the sim she probably smelled just as ripe.

The girl left Tuesday restrained as she removed the electrodes from her body, peeling them off roughly, removing the clamps from her nipples with no warning. Tuesday forced down an expletive. The girl was just doing her job albeit one in which she apparently took no pleasure. An hour ago Tuesday might have enjoyed such treatment, enjoyed the casual abuse of her body but she was spent now, spent and stiff and no longer safe in the virtual world.

Pain here was real, her body would bruise and bleed, bones broke, death was final. There would be bruises, of course, marks from the clamps on her nipples, light burns caused by the sensory electrodes, strap marks from her prolonged bondage, her confined body struggling in its computer enhanced dreams, dreams that did not leave the dreamer paralysed. She knew that in high end VR suites clients were given relaxants to ease their struggles and in some, one in particular, they were not needed at all, the join between virtual and reality was seamless and immediate.

Released from the chair, she stood unsteadily, fumbling to remove the belt with its crotch strap holding her vaginal and anal plugs in place but the technician knocked her shaking hands away and pulled it open, withdrawing the plugs with a casual action that left her standing naked and disconnected.

I am hooded, my wrists chained together behind my back, my ankles cuffed. You're gagged. With the hood in place I am no longer restricted in the amount I can lift my head though my nipple rings are clipped by a short chain to my clit piercing meaning that, if I straighten up, three of my most sensitive areas are stretched. Can you reach me?

Can you touch me. I can feel the weight of my leash and know it is fastened to something ahead too though I suspect it is fixed less than half way to Silver and will thus be too short for me to reach her. The physical punishments our mistress administers are often severe, but the psychological ones can be much more intense.

Imagine the pain you feel being separated from your lover and then imagine how much worse that pain becomes when you are so close to them that in ordinary circumstances you would be able to touch them, see them, taste them even, but you are kept apart, restrained, yearning, unfulfilled. Crawling awkwardly in my bondage I creep forward then I feel my head brush against something firm yet yielding.

I turn my head, lifting it, aware of the pull on my pierced nipples and clitoris. I push out my tongue. A hooded girl who is bound must use all her skills to explore her prison and it would not be the first time I had found something using just my tongue. That feels so good. Whichever part of her I can feel slopes up above me and, thinking how she was chained before, I think it must me her thigh.

A little higher and I might be able to reach her sex. My heart leaps and I tip my head back, pushing my tongue out further and stretching up ignoring the pain in my nipples and clit. As I rise off my heels I am reminded that my labial piercings are chained to my ankle cuffs and to reach higher I will have to strain against them or perhaps risk going up to balance on my knees.

At that moment I feel Silver squirm in response to my touch and hear her give a low moan. Some of her skin feels hot and rough against my tongue, the swelling from the venom still present, I imagine the way my touch makes her sensitised body tingle.

The rest of her skin is cool from where she has hung naked for many hours and there is a tang of salt where sweat has dried on her skin. My tongue touches metal and I know it is Silver's thigh cuff. Sensing her respond to my touch makes me bold and, almost without thought, I push up to balance momentarily on my knees. My balance is good but I am chained and hooded, with my hands bound I have to use my shoulder against her thigh to stabilise myself and feel her move under my weight.

I fight to maintain balance the pain in my nipples and clitoris now taking second place to the cramps in the back of my thighs brought on by the need to keep my heels up to protect my pierced labia. I wobble briefly but do not fall. I reaslise I am breathing hard through the ring gag from the exertion or perhaps because I was holding my breath as I concentrated on my balance.

I can feel something against my cheek through the leather of the hood and turn my face, exploring again with my tongue. I taste metal, feel a chain. I am sure it is my leash. I push my tongue forward and encounter flesh. Silver gasps. I probe again, feel more metal, a ring; a familiar taste creeps across my tongue.

My collar is chained by my leash to Silver's clitoral piercing. The thought thrills me, a dizziness that almost makes me fall. My knees hurt and my hamstrings are screaming for relief, I am intensely aware of the strain on my nipples and clitoris.

I push out my tongue again, easing it through Silver's clit ring as I have done many times before and then curl it gently teasing her. I am rewarded with a little cry of pleasure and, as I gently tease her, with clear evidence of her arousal. Under my touch her clitoris swells and I can taste her slickness, feel it with my tongue. I push past the ring seeking her labia, feel the rings that pierce them, the rings that can, when she is being punished by locked closed to prevent access to her vagina.

These are the rings that on me are currently chained to my ankle cuffs forcing my to balance on my knees. I seek each ring with my tongue and tease the flesh between them. Silver moans again and I sense her tense in her bonds, lifting her weight slightly with her arms pulling against the ankle chains that spread her legs so flagrantly.

I know she is near orgasm. If I make her come she will be punished and so will I. Tomorrow may see our roles reversed or the start of some other punishment, possibly physical but perhaps more, perhaps a period where we are kept apart, denied sex for days, even weeks, tormented by lust.

We will, of course, only be punished if Mistress finds out. It was about fourteen hours since the end of her VR session and her body had recovered a little though she still felt tired, spent, despite a bath and a long sleep. Her eyes looks tired and there were dark shadows underneath them that she had concealed partly with careful use of make-up.

Policewomen didn't wear make-up on duty but they were also supposed to inspire confidence in the public they served, not look as if they'd been out all night partying. Judicious use of lip-gloss had covered the marks around her mouth caused by the oral plug.

Aside from this she looked fine, the tight kevlar-reinforced bodysuit hugging her slim form and hiding any bruises caused by the VR chair's restraining straps. When she wasn't trying to hide her simulated indulgence she liked the way the a suit gave her slim athletic body a more muscular shape and provided reassuring protection, as much as was possible in the real; liked the way surface glinted in the light as it stretched over her shoulders, small breasts and tight bottom.

She pulled her blonde hair back, trapping it in a tight ponytail and then went into the bedroom. Her utility belt and helmet lay in the bed along with her nightstick. She buckled it around her slim waist and then pulled on her helmet locking the chin-strap then picked up her weapon. Then she opened the wall safe and pulled out her gun checking the clip and action before strapping it to her thigh.

Silver has been a bad girl; she is usually the instigator, and Mistress is making her contrite by denial. I am part of that punishment and, knowing this, is my own penance, although, of course, this is because I am partly to blame. Silver has worn the chastity belt for a week now and, when chained at night the chastity bra is usually added to her bondage; this consists of two steel cones that are held in place by chains, the purpose of which is to prevent any erotic contact with Silver's highly sensitive nipples.

Poor Silver must be desperate by now, I know I would be; I certainly have been these past few nights having had to amuse myself to satisfy my slave lust as best I can when it has not been eased by intimate relations with Mistress or any of the other women to who I am sometimes given.

My role is, of course, in all these encounters to pleasure my mistress, whomever she may be, and although this almost invariably leads to my own arousal I can't imagine that a girl would not be sexually excited by being held in bondage and forced to pleasure another such intercourse does not always end in my own climax. It is the lot of the pleasure slave that sometimes she is left chained and hooded at the foot of her mistress' bed squirming in sexual frustration while the woman she has just pleasured sleeps above her utterly satisfied and without any thought for the needs of the pet who has just served her mistress so well.

Some mistresses, of course, use this approach to keep their pets attentive and there are numerous restraints designed to hold a girl so that she can be used for pleasure by another but in no way satisfy her self. Slaves treated this way sometimes beg pitifully for orgasm, promising all kinds of perverted pleasures to anyone who will touch them intimately and relieve their suffering.

Mistress is not so cruel and, I think, loves us both though she must, of course, maintain order and a slave who is not regularly punished will soon become lazy. So it is that I am riding the sybian, a mechanical device that looks a little like a saddle designed to give pleasure to the girl who sits astride it.

This is not perhaps what most would consider a punishment, but then, I am not the one being punished, not directly at least. I am, of course, tightly restrained and I have no control over what the sybian does to me though this is hardly a punishment for a sex slave. My arms are restrained tightly behind my back in a single sleeve laced over my arm cuffs, more intense than the chains in which I am typically restrained; the tip of the sleeve is locked to the back of the saddle; my legs are bent at the knee, my ankle cuffs also locked by chains to the back of the saddle so that all of my weight is taken by my spread thighs and my sex.

The saddle is ridged, a vibrating bar pressing insistently against my sex; I am penetrated too, a large dildo deep inside me, stretching my labia; the dildo is slightly conical so that as my weight forces me down onto it I am stretched further; by squirming and pressing my thighs together I can ease the intensity of these stimuli on my sex but a steel belt locked around my waist and chained to the front of the saddle prevents me from escaping their full power over me for long.

A short chain from the front of the saddle to my pierced clit exerts a similar control and as the saddle vibrates this teases my clit mercilessly. As if this is not enough for a slave girl to bear, a butt plug is also locked inside me, this is large enough that I am very aware of it stretching me and, when the vibrator runs at full power, it too moves increasing the intensity of the stimulation in my loins.

More stimulation comes from nipple clamps, not heavy, toothed punishing ones but light ones that pinch and gently tease, weights hang from them, weights that are also clipped to my nipple piercings, not heavy ones but enough to make their presence felt so that, with every move my nipples are tweaked and jerked adding to the intensity of my arousal.

I am gagged too, of course, it wouldn't do to have my cries of pleasure disturb the rest of the palace; a heavy leather muzzle covers the lower half of my face and holds a large expandable plug between my teeth that stretches my jaw painfully. I have climaxed multiple times already; I am a sex slave, a pleasure toy, a pet, trained to please intimately and respond sexually; and this is my punishment.

As the sybian moves, twisting and rolling, bucking gently, vibrating, delivering it's delicious torment I know that Silver is watching me and sometimes I see her, see the envy and the frustration in her eyes. Poor Silver is as conditioned as I am, a slave like me to mistress lust as well as Mistress Desire.

We are in the audience chamber of Chateau Flame where she, Mistress, that is, Countess Desire, is entertaining several high ranking guests from elsewhere in Erolia. These women sit around her on silken cushions enjoying the food and wine that my beloved Silver serves them. My fellow pet is beautiful in her polished cuffs, the lights of the room shining off them glinting like it does off her nipple rings and her nose ring, and off the chastity belt that is locked to her delicious body.

Silver's wrists are chained together in front of her body, her ankles too are chained. She wears a gag, a steel bar locked in her mouth like a bit. Here in Mistress' chambers she is under close scrutiny and cannot attempt to play with herself though from the way she is walking, the tension in her body as she moves, the looks she gives me when I cry out with lust through my gag I know how horny she is.

I know that when she leaves the chamber, steel balls will be locked around her hands and her chastity bra will be replaced so that her state of denial is maintained. We will, no doubt, be chained apart again later so that I cannot offer her any pleasure although, in truth, I suspect that when I am finally released from the sybian I will be utterly exhausted, barely able to stand, certainly of little use to a girl requiring the undivided attention of a pleasure slave.

Perhaps, as I recover, Mistress will call for Silver and release her from her torment; Mistress has needs too although, of course, she could enjoy Silver's caresses while ensuring her poor slave remains chaste. The sybian moves again and I gasp. Silver looks up as do a few of the guests, taking in the view of this gorgeous and rare blonde slave utterly subject to her mistress' control.

My eyes meet Silver's and I see the need in them and long to express my desire to satisfy it. Then the sybian bucks again and turns, the speed and intensity of the vibrator increasing, the weights on my nipples swing and I am, once again, swept away by lust, climaxing hard and panting around my gag. The girl looked up at her from where she crouched, cornered in the semi-darkness of the alley.

She was pretty, blonde, soft cheeks and full lips, sparkling blue eyes not unlike Tuesday and clearly from this part of the city. She was a rich kid playing games not a hardened criminal though tonight she had been caught red-handed and would face the justice Tuesday served.

Tuesday watched the girl stand and turn to face the wall spreading her arms above her head and legs wide. She was wearing a black latex catsuit that hugged her firm young body showing the smooth curve of her buttocks, the wide spacing of her hips. The girl still held her swag, the little velvet jewelry bag containing her haul.

Satisfied for the moment she had control of the situation Tuesday took the bag and opened it, shaking its sparkling contents into her gloved hand. There had been a spate of burglaries in the neighbourhood, jewel thefts and her sources told her it was rich kids out for kicks, showing their nerve and their skill by jamming alarms, scaling walls, cracking safes with gadgets they bought with their parents credit accounts.

Getting caught was part of the thrill. She spun the girl round and pulled off her mask. The young blonde's cheeks were flushed from the exertion and the excitement, her eyes shining, the thin rubber of her suit did little to hide her erect nipples. It is not that we take turns but I think Mistress keeps a mental tally so that neither Silver nor I are punished excessively.

Also, I think, there is sometimes doubt as to which of us has truely been the instigator of the act requiring punishment and, rather than have both her slaves unavailable, Mistress sometimes chooses to punish one or other of us. If I am honest, I would have to say that Silver tends to be more sinful than me but to be truthful, on this occasion it was me who had been naughty instituting a bout of sex with Silver when we were supposed to be cleaning Mistress' boots.

I was on top when Mistress found us diligently applying my tongue to Silver's sex when I should have been using it on Mistress' left boot. In my defense I would point out that Silver, underneath me, was pleasuring me with the same degree of diligence with which hitherto she had been addressing Mistress' right boot. I am restrained in an intense hogtie, suspended by a heavy leather training corset around my waist to which are attached two ropes that support my weight; such devices are used to train pets in gymnastic manouvres.

I lie on my back; my arms pulled behind me tied to the floor and my ankles pulled underneath me so they reach beneath my shoulder blades; this pulls my body into a delicious bow almost, in fact, a half circle. Pleasure slaves must be flexible to better please their mistresses and occasionally, masters and we spend a good deal of time in our training stretching to allow us to reach extreme erotic positions and to endure prolonged and intense bondage.

Most of this training is, of course, carried out in bondage; and I recall being restrained for hours at a time during my training in positions such as this. Such sessions are often combined with periods of intense sexual stimulation and sometimes frustration designed to ensure we continue to regard our bondage as a source of sexual pleasure.

At the moment, however, there is no pleasure; well, not much anyway. I am hooded, a rope from the heavy leather hood I wear pulling my head back, increasing the intensity of my bondage. The position is extreme and, I suspect, where I come from only a gymnast or athlete would be able to endure it for any length of time, and probably not for as long as I am now able.

The bondage is not my only punishment, there are cords clipped to my nipple and clit rings attached to what must be some sort of counterweight system over a pulley; as my punishment progresses these weights increase, only a little at a time but gradually my poor nipples and clit are being increasingly stretched.

My punishment is taking place in Mistress' gymnasium and as I hang, helpless in my bondage, giving the occasional small cry when the weights on my nipples and clit jerk painfully as they are increased, I can hear Silver being exercised. My fellow slave is, no doubt currently on the lunge rein, probably clipped to her left nipple ring although she may be bridled today; her wrist cuffs probably strapped to a small training corset to keep her hands away from her bottom so that Mistress' groom, Madam Equa, can strike the slave's bottom easily with the long whip she is, no doubt wielding.

If Madam Equa is displeased with her, Silver's elbows will be drawn tightly behind her back making her little breasts jut our beautifully; I think Madam Equa enjoys treating the pets she trains as pony girls like this; she is a woman who clearly gains much pleasure seeing and touching other girl's breasts, especially playing with their nipples.

Madam Equa's own slave has the biggest breasts I have ever seen in this world, where such modifications are possible more easily. I can hear Silver high trotting, the pad of her sprung steel shoes wrapped in cloth today to protect the wooden floor on which she is drilled.

I can envisage her lifting her knees as she runs, the touch of Madam Equa's whip under her thighs when she does not lift her knees high enough. I think she has been doing this for sometime now, perhaps forty or fifty minutes, though it is difficult for a hooded sex slave hanging in punishing bondage to be certain. I suspect Sliver is quite flushed, from the prolonged warm up trotting under the whip and the leg exercises she will already have performed; I can hear the rhythm of my lover's steps change occasionally, faltering, each deviation no doubt earning her a red stripe on her bottom or thigh and sometimes think I can even hear the swish of the whip and slap of the leather on Silver's bare flesh.

I wish I was there with her. It is not that I mind being punished. Pleasure slaves are trained to enjoy bondage and some degree of punishment though currently I can feel my body reaching its natural limits, particularly my poor tortured clitoris which feels like it is holding up half the world at the moment. I am sure Silver has at least another hour of training ahead of her which means my punishment will last at as least as long.

Tuesday in turn nodded to Major Black the operation commander. The light turned green and they moved as one. The door splintered open and she rushed through, the team flooding in behind her spreading like water through a breach. There were two figures in the long hallway, and Tuesday leveled her weapon but both were restrained and she moved past them trying not to be distracted by their presence.

They were both woman and both were naked, clearly undergoing some sort of punishment; chained with their wrists held in the small of their backs, a short chain from their collars lifting their hands away from their buttocks, the position forced their breasts out and both girls had their nipples clamped by a pair of steel rods that were fastened to the wall keeping them up on their toes; they had cuffs on their ankles too and both were gagged.

As Tuesday sped past both girl's whimpered but she ignored their cries and took the stairs to her right climbing quickly away from the noise below. There was another hallway at the top which was deserted as she entered but then a man emerged through a doorway on the right hand side; he was half naked, wearing just a shirt; his cock with still stiff, it's tip glistening and wet; he held a shotgun and when he saw Tuesday lifted it aiming to fire.

Tuesday fired and the man's head snapped back, the bullet entering his skill but not leaving. A door to her left opened and a woman emerged. She was dressed as a dominatrix in a black leather bustier and skirt with spike heeled boots. When she saw Tuesday she lashed out with her whip but Tuesday caught it and leveled her weapon.

The woman rasied her hands. She stepped over the dead man glancing into the room from which her had just emerged as she passed. There was a woman inside kneeling bent over some sort of frame; her wrists were cuffed, held by short wires to the dais on which she knelt; a heavy leather strap pinned her neck to a scaffolding pole; while similar straps around her ankles and the backs of her calves held her on her knees; a large rectal hook lifted her bottom which had clearly been beaten with the cane that lay by her feet; she had large breasts which were tightly bound turning the skin blue and heavy weights hung by wires from her swollen nipples; though she could move her hands to ease the pressure of her throat on the bar to which her neck was strapped, the wires on her wrists were not long enough to allow her fingers to reach her tortured breasts; she looked at Tuesday with tearful eyes over the large ring gag that stretched her mouth; her face was covered in semen.

Tuesday heard her whimper but knew she had to move on. At the end of the corridor was the room she was after and even as she ran towards it the door opened and a woman emerged. She carried a light pistol. Tuesday fired even as the woman began to raise it and the woman slumped back. They were not threat, not in their current state. The woman with the pistol looked up at her weakly and then her eyes glazed.

Tuesday crouched checking that the woman's pulse had gone even as her eyes scanned the room. Kara came in behind her, the brunette was armed with an assault rifle that had clearly been fired more than once. Stern ran a gloved hand over the woman's body as if trying to confirm that she was real. I have heard no footsteps for at least a few minutes and I can visualise Madam Equa rewarding her charge for her diligent work, her hands on Silver's little breasts, dark flesh against Silver's pale skin, her finger probably through the little golden ring that pierces Silver's nipple, pulling it gently as she strokes the soft flesh of her breast.

Silver will, no doubt be on her knees shortly thanking, in that way we sex toys do so well, Madam Equa for her lesson. I wait, hooded and helpless, for release. Finally, I feel someone undoing my gag then pulling the large steel ball with its leather covering from my mouth. I am grateful to be able to move my jaw again though would dearly love the pain in my nipples and clit to stop and to be released from this strenuous position.

However, I know what is coming and push out my tongue; a moment later I taste Madam Equa, hot from her exertions. She has unlaced the leather knickers she wears when training and is presenting her sex for the attention of my tongue and lips. I wonder briefly that Silver has not satisfied her but it is not unheard of after training for her to demand pleasure from both of us.

More usually she will use one of us part way through the session, usually while the other continues to train so that she has the duel pleasure of enjoying an attentive tongue while watching a lithe blonde pony girl perform under the whip. Madam Equa's sex is already wet from Silver's ministrations and I think I can taste my lover along with the woman's own scent and the tang of leather.

Pleasuring Madam Equa is difficult suspended on my back and hooded, my body drawn into such a tight arc. I am further distracted because contact with the groom that is making me swing in my bonds increasing the stretch on my tortured nipple and clitoris. However, the obedient sex slave that I am, I must serve or be further punished. I know too that Silver will be watching me; she no doubt standing beside Madam Equa, still restrained and probably bridled as the groom toys with her nipples and their delicious piercings.

As Madam Equa approaches orgasm she release the clips from my hood to allow my tongue better access to her sex and her hands hold my head, guiding my tongue as it probes and teases so that at the point of orgasm my lips are pressed against her labia and my tongue deep inside her. I feel her muscles spasm and relax, continuing to tease her until I know she is fully satisfied then, as she relaxes I slip my tongue back into my mouth.

As she steps away, I feel her stroke my lips with her finger and tell me I am a good girl. I hope that I have satisfied her and that she will release me but then I am commanded to open my mouth and I obey. The gag is replaced and the clip to my hood is once again attached so that my body is once again curved into a beautiful arc.

I do not complain, a pleasure slave is subject to the whim and discipline of her mistress and any that have the right to use her, particularly someone held in high regard by Mistress Desire like Madam Equa. Despite this I can't help but whimper as my gag is tightened and I swing helplessly; my nipples and clit are throbbing painfully. Then I am left alone.

A number of captives were freed. Martin, can you tell us more? The Reivers might be a relatively new group but their philosophy, their credo, if you like, is as old as what we used to call the internet. Where once we had hackers and trolls we now have Reivers. The whole point about VREs is that they are safe; citizens can go there and live out their fantasies then come back to the real and carry on with their lives.

The Reivers want to spoil that. It's embarrassing enough for them that the Reivers got through their security for a second time this month so I'm guessing they won't be very forthcoming on that front, they'll want to reassure users that their VREs are safe. There is some suggestion that the Reivers have a way to punch directly into the virtual world. We all know why most people use VREs.

They also argue, somewhat perversely, that if you act out your fantasies in the virtual, you should try them out in the real too. They wouldn't even have to go to an official portal, as we all know there are dozens on unlicensed portals with almost no regulation. The Utolia lands are, of course, residentials but you will recall a Reiver raid in the real two months ago on VirCo's western hub.

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