“Well, what do you think?” Bibi asked Nate as she posed briefly with hands on hips when he opened the door and let her into the most luxurious suite on the ship. She was dressed in an incredibly tight, black calfskin jump suit that left nothing to the imagination. The single front zipper was halfway open, displaying her perfect boobs and tiny waist. The zippered lower legs of the suit encapsulated her thighs and calves as if the leather was her own skin and the five-inch, black patent heels set off the outfit perfectly. Her jewelry was minimal: just large silver hoop earrings and a sterling silver studded black leather collar with alternating D rings and heavy circular rings around its circumference. She wore elbow length black leather gloves and her blond hair was in a tight single braid that extended down below her shoulders. From what Nate could see as he surveyed the package, Bibi, as usual, was not wearing any underwear, at least not on top. Below, he guessed that she probably wore a minute black thong and nothing else.
“Do come in,” Nate said, bowing deeply and ushering Bibi into the sumptuous penthouse that extended across the entire width of the upper deck and had fantastic views of the ocean not only on both sides, but also aft. Nate wore a pair of snuggly fitted leather slacks, a matching black calfskin vest and black motorcycle boots. He walked to a sideboard and held up a bottle of vintage Krug Rose, one of the best champagnes the ship’s cellar could offer and asked, “Shall I pour or do you prefer to take control?”
“I think…” said Bibi slowly, still surveying the surroundings and studying the evil-looking chrome device centered in the middle of the sitting room, “...that I want to try that,” she said, obviously intrigued.
Highlighted by multiple pin spots from the ceiling, it was a sort of heavy tubular frame structure with arms and legs and other extensions reaching out to her, seemingly inviting her to join it in some alien and pornographic position. Bibi studied it carefully. It was a bit like a bed frame, but not rectangular. There was nothing she could compare it to in terms of how it looked or what its function might be. The multiple circular steel fittings appeared to be suited to holding body parts, like wrists, thighs, ankles, waist and neck. All one had to do was figure out how to attach one’s self to it.
“Be my guest,” Nate said quietly, returning the chilled bottle to its ice bucket and stepping over to the eerie device. “Shall I help or do you want to figure it out for yourself?”
“You sit down and relax. Pour two glasses of that French elixir. I want to try this myself,” said Bibi. “The Krug should help us enjoy the show.”
“Okay,” said Nate, turning towards the counter and starting to open the bottle. “I went into the cellar for this and noticed that the supply of what is our most costly champagne and perhaps the most expensive one in the world is slowly decreasing, thanks to your boss and the guy who owns this suite. Sorry I couldn’t bring a bottle of that up.”
“What was it,” Bibi asked toying with parts of the hardware device on the floor.
“Dom Perignon White Gold in a Jeroboam,” Nate said. “Supposed to be worth forty thousand dollars.”
“I am inclined to doubt that. But I know people who would easily pay that if it’s that special. Is it vintage?”
“I suppose so, but the real price factor is the bottle made from white gold. It’s probably a rare year as well, but with Champagne, who cares?” Nate said with a shrug.
Behind him, he heard zippers and the muffled hush of soft leather on flesh illustrating what he knew was the rapid removal of the leather jump suit, the clicking and clinking of metal on metal and then some laughter and giggling. Still, Nate remained facing the dark starboard windows, carefully unwrapping the top capsule of the bottle and watching the reflections of Bibi stripping off the suit, shoes and, yes, a black thong as well, leaving the clothing in a black leather heap on the floor while she embraced the chromed monster squatting on the deck.
Naked, Bibi knelt in the center of the machine. Nate saw her raise one slim ankle and lock it into a wide metal clamp shackle, then, do the same with her other ankle, leaving her on her knees with legs spread wide. Removing her own collar and tossing it behind her, she placed her neck in the thick metal collar that rose from the frame. Nate heard the collar snap locked. Bibi was now held by ankles and throat. She eased herself forward slightly on her knees and reached out her left hand, placing the wrist into one of the gleaming cuffs. Instantly, the spring-loaded, leather-lined, wide circle of shiny metal snapped closed, entrapping her wrist and pulling her body forward. With the agility and strength she maintained from her daily workouts, Bibi reached forward with her right hand and allowed it to be locked into another cuff. Now she was trapped in the chrome machine, immobile with her arms, legs and neck securely restrained in steel. She hummed a few tuneless bars of some opera prelude and relaxed her legs, slumping downward in a cruel suspension, the five cuffs of the frame holding her a few inches above the softly carpeted floor, her blond head and full breasts hanging down and the braid almost touching the carpet.
“Ready,” Bibi said quietly. “This is some gadget. Can you lower the neck a bit; I’m having trouble breathing with it this way.”
“Sure. It is probably calibrated to the last inhabitant. Do you want a gag?”
Nate turned and walked to the panel on a low coffee table near the frame. He studied the panel and then the frame and its now captive, naked body, marveling at Bibi’s incredible form, so well developed and muscled without looking like the extreme of the body builder, but also reeking of fitness and capable of bringing pleasure or pain to both her and anyone she chose to share it with.
“I want what you want,” Bibi said, wiggling her lovely ass and slowly rotating her hips seductively. “But you had better know how this thing works because I can’t hang here forever.”
“Okay. Let me try to get this right,” Nate said. “First, let’s give you a bit of support.” He pressed a combination of buttons on the panel and Bibi felt the arms holding her limbs moving outward, stretching her into a wide spread X and lifting her slightly upwards.
“I think this will take care of a few of your concerns,” Nate said, slipping a black leather discipline hood over Bibi’s head, forcing the internal leather ball gag into her open mouth and pulling her braid up and centering it at the crown of her head. Nate then went slowly about the process of closing the speed-laced opening, pulling each cross lace tight and finally securing the ends behind her head. “You know the safe code, right?” he asked.
Bibi hummed and nodded once.
Nate finished off the hood closure with the heavy-duty nylon zipper, pulling it down slowly, smoothing the thin leather over her skull and placing a small lock through the zipper slider and a D ring at its base. Bibi heard the lock click and knew that was more for effect than efficiency because there was no way she was going to be able to get out of the hood, lock or not, until her hands were free again.
Another manipulation of the electronic panel activated hydraulic pistons in the individual arms of the frame and Bibi felt herself being elevated even more, but remaining horizontal.
“That’s about right, don’t you think?” Nate asked, as he touched Bibi on the right buttock.
The live, well toned flesh bounced and jiggled slightly. Again, Bibi nodded and hummed through the gag. She realized that she was now suspended at a height which brought her crotch just about level with Nate’s, just about the right height for Nate to be able to screw her without bending over.
How clever
, she thought, feeling Nate’s leather enclosed package rubbing lightly against her spread and open sex.
How really perfect. I can just hang here and he can fuck me in any orifice and I won’t be able to do a thing about it. How truly grand. I wish I’d had some of the champagne first though.
Dimly, through the thin walls of the hood, she was sure she heard Nate stripping out of the leather jeans, then she felt his granite hardness pressing lightly against her center and she tried to move her own hips as well. But Nate only touched her for a minute and then there was no touch at all.
What the fuck?
thought Bibi, annoyed at this interruption. Nate was gone. She heard nothing, felt nothing but the wetness of her own sex and the tight embrace of the four heavy cuffs and collar. Time seemed to stop. But then, she felt a tugging at her braid and her head was cruelly pulled back, the end of the long blond braid secured to yet another extension of the frame and then tightened even more until her neck was bent nearly ninety degrees and her face now aimed forward. Only the slightest of movements was possible. The strain on her neck was immense and this, coupled with the four rack-like entrapments of her limbs, brought pain that she had not expected. A second later the strain eased as the heavy steel collar pivoted and allowed her head to tilt further back. She tried to relax. She felt a belt being slipped around her waist and pulled tight. It seemed to have some sort of overhead support, for the strain on her arms and legs again lessened. But the belt also held her even more immobile than the four stretching cuffs and the head restraint.
Nate was now playing with her nipples. Squeezing, flicking them with his fingers, stretching each golden turret downward and to the extent of its reach, then releasing it and letting the whole globular breast recoil back against the chest wall, then jiggle a bit. Initially, this tit play seemed pointless and Bibi wondered if Nate actually intended to do anything more than just entice her. A sharp jab on her right nipple provided an immediate and urgent distraction. Nate snared the nip and slowly closed a tight little metal spring ring over the base of the dangling extension. When the ring closed, it was like fire. Bibi struggled in her confinement, tugging uselessly at her fettered ankles and wrists. The piercing pain in her tit only increased as she realized that Nate was adding some sort of weights to the already intolerable nipple-grabbing ring. Concentrating on this one agonizing torment, Bibi almost leapt out of the bondage frame when a second and similarly painful ring and weights were added to the left nipple. Nate took his time, making sure that the weights swung in neat arcs below the bound and hooded blond. Only when he had Bibi howling continuously into her gag did Nate slowly release some of the tension on the nipple rings. The release was minor and the slight reduction of the pulling pressure actually hurt more, but in a few seconds, the pain subsided a bit and Bibi thought that maybe, just maybe, she could endure this punishment, depending on what came next. In her head, she thought that if he didn’t swing the weights, then it would be alright. Lower down, in her swollen and liquefied crotch, she was getting more and more stimulated, thinking about having Nate ram his tool up inside her far enough so that the pinioned nipples would play second fiddle to the hopefully anticipated fucking she wanted.
What she wasn’t expecting was the sudden pinch of a pair of silver clamps that slowly embraced her lower lips, with one side of the clamp reaching inside and the other arm driving its slightly sharpened edge into the sensitive exterior skin of her labia. Two of these terrible clamps now gripped her lips, and Bibi knew that the same sort of weights still attached to her tits were bound to follow on these lower instruments of pain. The weights came, attached with care and cunning, making the slow increase of pressure all the more painful. Once again, while she screamed into the gag and hood, Nate altered the tension on her poor lower lips just enough to make it bearable.
Then he was along side of her, his mouth next to her plugged and covered ear, murmuring how she would come to love the pain and enjoy what he was going to do to her next.
Bibi jerked her sweating, stretched body, blathered unintelligible curses into the gag hood and tried not to move so that the four swinging weights remained more or less stationary. Yet, each breath, each shivering intake of fresh air through the nostril holes in the hood caused her chest to expand just a bit and this, in turn, brought motion to the swinging torment of her stretched nipples.
The next thing Bibi felt was a searing slash of agony across her hips and ass. Nate swung a four foot long cane and carefully administered four brutal cuts, two left to right and two right to left, leaving her ass flaming in pain and showing a deep, swelling, red X.
Bibi had been whipped before, by both friends and foes, but suspended in the pain frame was different. With her tits and cunt stretched and weighted, the claustrophobic hood dulling all but tactile senses while Nate administered these four, unanticipated blows, she questioned her endurance and her own historical, long term embrace of the pleasure/pain experience. It wasn’t that she wanted him to stop; it was more of a mental shock as she questioned, for the first time in many years, her physical limits. More than one previous session with a cane had been to elicit confidential or secret information from her and in those cases, Bibi had deported herself well, she thought. If gagged while this was going on, she was able to rationalize the absurdity of being interrogated while unable to say anything. When they removed the gag and again asked her to tell them what they wanted to know, she was able to laugh in their faces and wait for the next blow. If she was not gagged, then the release of the expected and encouraged screams and cries usually was her mental and physical resistance device. Bibi was tough, but not stupid. When all else failed, she would capitulate, after holding out as long as she could and giving up as little information as possible. This strategy had served her well, often allowing her friends or saviors time to find and save her.
In this case, she knew that neither tactic would work. Bibi had willingly abdicated her freedom by making the date and stepping into the torture frame. She had also, she knew, presented herself and Nate with the complex interpersonal alignment of the yes/no, more/less, more please/please stop conundrum. It was, she thought, like the first consensual date when she and her boyfriend both agreed to have sex, but both of them questioning the act itself as the scene unrolled before them.