The Ultimate Bondage Technique

By DX

Is there such a thing?  Bondage with no escape, no release?  Bondage no one can free you from?  A woman seeks out the beautiful Mistess Safia to find out.  Erotic Horror!

Copyrighted 9/2006, 8/2023, All rights reserved.

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For a moment, I was lost in the reflection of her eyes, beautiful, expressive ponds of azure.  Her beauty had stunned me and stifled my introduction.  She was perfect.  Her chin, her cheeks, her hair, her body.

We stood in silence. I, dumbfounded, her, silenced. A thick, heavy plate of steel had been riveted over her mouth.  Steel bolts driven through her flesh and bone clamped the plate so tightly, that her dimpled cheeks bulged slightly from its firm grip.

I knew I was in the right place.

"I'm here to see Mistress Safia." I managed to say.  The girl blinked in acknowledgment and ushered me in.  She moved with surprising grace and poise on her wickedly high, spiny heels.  She paused when she noticed me hesitating.  "May I use the bathroom to freshen up?”  I asked.

She led me to a side room and I was surprised at its size.  It was all white tile with Roman columns and naked statues.  I almost screamed when one came to life and reached to take my bag away.  She was encased all in white latex leaving only her eyes, Asian and alluring, peering at me.  She took my jacket and hung it on the open hand of a statue. I then realized that the statue looked too real, with too many human imperfections.  I first decided it was a cast of a real person, but I touched the outreached hand and felt the warmth of a real person, sealed in a resin of some sort to look like marble.  A girl was in there, trapped, helpless, nothing more than a bit of furniture.

I shuddered in fear and ecstacy at the thought.  That was my dream.  To be an object, a conversation piece, a bit of artwork to be viewed and discussed.

It was why I had come.

When I had heard of the legend of the Ultimate Bondage Technique, I knew instantly that I had to experience it for myself.  I tried to glean more information, but there seemed to be none.  All I could get was, a friend of a friend who had a cousin who had overheard from a guy in a bar, story.  The stories that I did get were wild and extreme, painful, exotic and permanent.  Women or men twisted like putty for the amusement of others.

The notion that I could be that object haunted my dreams and because of it, I could no longer have normal sex.  I would pretend to be a statue and let men pose me, and remain still as a doll while the had their way with me.  It was kinky, but I had to have something more.  Knowing that others would be getting off on my suffering filled my waking thoughts.  I had to have it.

The one consistent element in the stories that I heard was Mistress Safia.

So, I sought her out.

Through a long list of contacts, I finally got an audience with her at the S&M club she frequented.  She was flocked by her many slaves and admirers.  When I had my chance, I bowed to her and begged her for the Ultimate Bondage Technique.  She smiled at me with her golden eyes and said nothing.

I waited on my knees. She had other suitors and fans and slaves and mistresses meet with her while I continued to wait until my knees ached.  In between visitors, I asked her again.  I felt her warm eyes fall on me.

"You may not." She said.

"But why?" I asked.

"Because you do not know what it is."

"Please, I beg you, tell me."

"No."

I remained there.  I ignored the pain in my knees and the ache building in my back and neck.  Hours passed and people came and went.  Eventually, she left, with her entourage in tow.  I remained there, struggling with the pain of kneeling on the concrete floor. The club began to close and I remained there.

They turned off the lights and I remained there.  Awash with agony from my position of reverence, I refused to move.  My bladder finally demanded release and I let go there on the floor.  I sobbed from the pain and shame, but I did not move.

Hunger stressed me but I did not move. I mewed and moaned in pain, but I did not lift my head or rise from my knees.

I passed out.

I was roused by a girl.  She was one of the club slaves.  She brought me a rice ball, tea and broth.  I ignored the protest in my cramping limbs and resumed my position.  I ate without raising my head as the girl cleaned up my waste.

The club opened and people walked around and ignored me.  It was as if everyone knew about my meeting with Mistress Safia.

Mistress Safia did not show, but I did not move.  When the club closed, the slave girl came back and after cleaning up where I again wet the floor, she took my soiled clothes.  She gave me a sponge bath, then left me there naked.

I remained there until I passed out again.

When I awoke, the club had just opened.  My supper of rice and broth was there and I ate wolfishly.  I then resumed my position and waited.  I was dizzy and delirious from pain and lack of real sleep that I did not hear when Mistress Safia spoke to me.

"Have you discovered what the Ultimate Bondage is?"

My voice was dry. "No."

She then went back to her enclave, ignoring me.  I could only kneel in my torrent of agony, trembling from exhaustion.  I passed out before the club closed.

The girl came and cleaned me up and brought me my rice ball when the club opened again.  I found myself sitting, unable to prop myself up on my knees again.  I only sat, my head bowed, and waited.

"I have learned something."  I said when her delicate perfume drifted over me.  The club was loud and the music was throbbing and my voice was a crumbling whisper and yet she could hear me easily.  "I am here of my own will.  I can leave when I wish.  When the pain overtakes me, or the boredom, or the hunger, I can get up and go home.  But were I bound, I would not have such a choice.  The Ultimate Bondage must mean that no one would have the choice.  I would be bound in such away that no one could free me.  I would remain trapped forever."

I felt her eyes smile.  "And what else have you learned?"

"That physical pain is limited.  The body will eventually shut down, nerves will numb."

She nodded.  "But does bondage have to be painful?"

"Not physically."  I said, a little surprised all this was suddenly clear to me.  "What is more painful, however, than the loss of freedom?  To be restrained completely."

"But you come to me willingly. How can you be bound by choice?"

"Because at some point I will long for freedom.  I will want to do something, eat what I want, have sex, watch T.V., and that choice will be denied me.  Regardless of how hard I struggle, I will be unable to escape. I will be forced to suffer my lack of freedom."

She smiled and walked away.  I knew I was now doomed to undergo the Ultimate Bondage Technique.  I trembled at the thought.

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Copyrighted 8/2023 all rights reserved.

A New Doll

By DX

Copyrighted 6/2003, 8/2023 All rights reserved.

Annette wanted to be a rich man's plaything, but he was looking for a new toy.

 Annette lay in darkness.  She could feel her face gel and stiffen.  Her skin was rapidly transforming, becoming smoother, perfect, plastic.  Despite her pounding heart, soon she would be paralyzed, trapped within her own body, a doll's body. She could barely struggle, and soon her restraints would be unnecessary.  She had to communicate somehow, escape this coffin before it was too late, before she was nothing more than a toy. 

 She suddenly thought it funny; to be a play thing, and if she could, she would laugh.  Being someone's play thing was what got her in this mess in the first place.

 Candlelight danced magically in the ice water as the waiter again filled her glass.  Annette sighed angrily as she looked at her watch.  Robert was late for their date and he was going to pay for it.  A new fur coat, a diamond neckless, Annette would have no problem guilting a prize out of him.  As she mentally made a list of new prizes, she looked up and her heart stopped.

 Madge strode in, almost charging straight at the table.  "You and I must talk."  She said taking a seat.

 Annette sat up, stammering.  "Mrs. Chambers," She put up a weak smile.  "What a surprise to see you here."

 "Cut the crap." Madge hissed as she dragged her cigarettes from her purse.  "I know you're here to meet my husband."  She lipped a cigarette and lit up.  "I know all about you two."

 Annette coughed from the stream of smoke.  "I don't know what you're..."

 "I'll move this along for you."  Madge went on.  "I left the message for you to come here.  Robert doesn't know you're here."  She took a drag.  "I have a business proposition for you.  You can have Robert.  The house, the cars, the yacht, everything.”  She flicked her ash at the center piece.  "What's he giving you now, an apartment?  Lewd dates and lousy quick fucks?  How about it all?”

 Annette was speechless as Madge went on.  "I'll spell it out.  Due to a pre-nuptial agreement if I divorce him without cause I get nothing but the stole on my back.  If I have cause, say proof of an affair, I'll get about five million for an initial settlement and several million a year in perpetuity.  I think I can live with that.  The hard part is the proof.  You guys are clever."  Madge sat back and dropped her cigarette into her water.  "How's that for a deal?  You give up a cheesy apartment in exchange for a villa in the Alps, I get some cash to comfort my pain.  All you have to do is drop me a little jingle when you go for your next date.  My private eyes will handle the rest.  Perhaps you can leave the shades open a crack.  When the dust settles, he'll be all your's."

 Annette sat back, struggling to keep a poker face.  "Give me half of your initial settlement."

 Madge snorted a laugh. "I'll give you a million."

 "A million."  Annette agreed.  "Plus five hundred thousand up front."  A hint of a smile escaped Annette.  "Listen, I don't want him.  I don't even like him.  I just want the toys I get for hanging off his arm.  A little spending cash would be nice too.  Rest assured if we do marry, there won't be such a restrictive pre-nupt.

 Madge signaled the waiter.  "A shrewd business woman, I like that."  She reached back and took a glass of champagne the waiter offered her.  “Agreed.  To us."  She toasted.

 Annette took a glass.  She clinked Madge's.  "To us."  She sipped the expensive champagne, letting its sparkling taste float on her tongue.  Suddenly the room became too bright, the glass growing heavy in her hand.  "What?"  She whispered as the room began to swim.

 She could hear Madge calling the waiter.  "The lady has taken ill.  Would you help her to my car so I may take her home?"

 Annette could barely speak as the waiter half lifted her and carried her out to the street.  The valet attendant was already there with the car and the two of them loaded Annette into the back seat.  Annette struggled to stay conscious as Madge drove through a myriad of winding back streets and twisting alleys before coming to a stop at a darkened, dilapidated warehouse.  Hands pulled her from the car and deftly strapped her to a gurney and wheeled her in.  Peeling paint, flickering flourescents and rusted pipes greeted her as they wheeled Annette into a makeshift operating theater.  A gowned figure loomed over her and wedged a rubber mouth piece between her teeth, and gagged her feeble cries.

 With burning eyes, she watched as Madge walked over, but Madge paid her little mind. "Well what do you think, doctor?"

 The gowned figure looked up. "She's beautiful. I think she'll be a perfect candidate."

 Madge reached down and fondled a lock of Annette's hair.  "She does have lovely hair.  Harvest it and make a wig out of it for me."

 Annette wretched her head from Madge's grasp.  Madge only smiled.  "The little drug I put in the champagne is wearing off.  I'm sorry about the little ruse, but I had to find out just what kind of person you are.  I had to be sure you're Robert's kind of girl."  She looked up at the doctor, watching him set up, then back to Annette.  "Try not to be too mad, I don't want worry lines etched into that beautiful face.  It'll be the only thing you'll get to keep.  You see, Robert likes his women just so…”  She drew an hour glass figure in the air.  "He's a breast man, and an ass man, and he likes long elegant neck lines and small wasp waists; so to be the object of Robert's desire, you'll need a little work.  I'm here to help you out.  The only down side is that Robert's tastes are so extreme, that diet and exercise simply won't cut it.  A few nips and tucks will be required.  The doctor here is going to make you into Robert's image of beauty."  Madge looked back at the doctor.  "What do you think?"

 The doctor looked up as he wheeled in a cart covered with a sheet.  "Well, first the usual."  He pulled off the sheet showing two massive gel filled transparent balloons.  "New breasts."

 Madge's eyes bulged.  "My God!"  She reached down with both hands and tried to lift one.  "Ugh, this must be fifteen pounds!"

 "Twenty pounds each."  He said simply.  

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The New Girl

By DX

Court ordered Bimbofication!  Crazed surgery!  Can Danielle’s defiant spirit save her?

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Copyrighted 02/02/03, 6/5/2023 All rights reserved.

When I acquired Danielle from the Prison she was a fiery, defiant spirit; but that didn't concern me as I simply drove her right over to Dr. Marcus' Clinique. 

We arrived just in time as the faint clunks from her thrashing around in the trunk became incessant and annoying.  When I watched her struggle in her bonds as my assistant and chauffeur lifted her from the boot of the car, I remained stoic, distracted, and a little bored, as if surgically modifying criminals into sex toys was an every day affair.

Her words of hate were blocked by the heavy leather muzzle tightly strapped to her face.  Her eyes flashed, and shot their arrows at me.

Despite my air of coolness, I couldn’t help but drink deep from the well of her gaze.  Those eyes! Beguiling, enchanting, captivating, struck like a cheap shot to the gut.  

As my assistant wrestled to latch on to those long powerful legs, bound together with Gaffer's tape, I studied their curve, their journey to lost, fantasy regions.

They finally grabbed ahold of the trashing, kicking girl and the two of them, along with Dr. Marcus' assistants, secured her to a gurney and wheeled her inside, her eyes of fury still seeking me out, only flickering to fear as they brought her into the operating theater.

It was only then, not jail, the court, the judge’s sentence, that she questioned her choice of volunteering for alternate sentencing.

Terror filled her as the gown clad staff entered the room.  The two doctors reviewed her procedure, and casually pointed to where the amputations would take place, her arms, her legs, the modifications to her face and throat, to her tender, quivering pussy.

"She doesn't look like a Hacker." Dr Marcus startled me with her sudden presence, standing at my elbow.

"She was a Social Hacker."  I explained, my eyes still locked on the display through the one way mirror.  "She flirted with corporate execs and tech staff to worm passwords or personal data from them, and then gave that information to her boyfriend who did the actual hacking and did billions in damage and destroyed the lives of a similar number."

She nodded.  "Well this will put an end to that."

I watched as they put her under.  She struggled to stay conscious, to fight to the last.

When she finally slipped into unconsciousness they removed the gag and for the first time I got a good look at her face.  Helen of Troy!  How men would rage war for her!  Captivating!  Lips full of passion, soft, succulent.

"I originally planned to do the whole procedure at once."  Dr Marcus began suddenly.  "But they're very evasive procedures."  Her eyes, sharp and crystal blue flashed up to me, reading my thoughts, my hesitation.  "That, increases risks.  Tell you what.  We'll do the basic stuff and you can bring her back in a few weeks for the rest.”

“Whatever you think is best, doctor.”  I replied.

In the recovery room, I watched Danielle's eyes flash open, searching in near panic until they found the mirror on the wall that the staff left for her.  I can not imagine the horror she must have felt when she realized her arms had been removed at the shoulders.   How helpless she must have felt at that moment.

Her mouth was filled with a glistening steel ball, a Pierce Gag.  A heavy gauge rod had been pushed through her cheeks and through the ball, keeping it in place.  Large locking lugs secured on each end where nestled in her darling dimples and welded shut.

It was only a start of the modifications that Dr Hugo Maxxe, Dr. Marcus’ colleague, who specializes in face and throat reconstructions had planned. 

For now, all he did was adjust her palate and tongue, making intelligible speech impossible.  She could only murmur and purr.  A few bones in her jaw and ear canal were adjusted so that they vibrated horribly if she made any noise above a soft mew.  A normal speaking tone would cause her extreme pain, like a hot brand across her temples, and a scream was surreal agony as she immediately discovered.  Soon she would be conditioned to her new levels of volume and simply incapable of anything more than sensual moans to communicate.

As I watched her, I watched her indomitable spirit drain, as I knew it would.  She broke, there in the recovery room.  Her head was a torrent of agony from her fresh and extensive operations compounded by her short lived screams.  It was all too much for her soul to bear.  All that arrogance!  Gone!  Like the snuffing of a candle flame.

She sobbed dry tears. 

Dr. Maxxe had re-routed her tear ducts, nipped a few nerves in her face and adjusted a few muscles.  The only expressions she was allowed were a delicate Mona Lisa smile or exuberance.  Happiness or agony displayed the same face of delight.  Watching herself in the mirror, terrified, wrapped in torment, she appeared overjoyed.

She had yet to see the worst of it.