Chapter 8

Apprehension began building a cold lump in the pit of my stomach the instant we walked in the room. Marie, our tour guide, said it was called the Gentle Restraints Room. I guess I have a "thing" about having complete freedom to move however and whenever I want to move my body. I can't even stand starched cuffs or stiff clothing of any other kind that hampers free movement. Just the word "restraints" seemed to get to me, cooling the excitement I'd been feeling.

I hung back, reluctant to take more than a couple of steps inside the doorway. Laura instantly noticed. She grabbed my nearest hand, urging, "Come on, silly! You look like you thought we're about to meet the Frankenstein monster!" That attracted Uncle Malcolm's attention and Marie's. Marie glanced back with a smile, then turned back, soothing, "Don't feel bad; just the name of this room spooks lots of older, more experienced people than you. So we have a firm house rule that each one who enters this room must personally submit to the very worst kind of restraint ever practiced here; so they'll know from personal experience how unjustified their first fears were."

"Everyone?" I wailed. "Why didn't you tell us that before you led us in here? I want to get out--" Just then the door slammed shut behind me. I wheeled toward it, then stood trembling, fighting to hold down the panic rising within me. Ominous sounds of a locking mechanism reached me through a sudden quiet. Obviously it was a soundproof room; the low, sweet music that had filled the hallway outside suddenly was gone. I was on the verge of losing my cool completely.

As if reading my mind, Marie again soothed, "Don't let the locked door worry you; that's just to insure complete privacy and no embarrassment during your introduction to the delights reserved to this special room."

"I want out!" I wailed.

Laura gave my hand a jerk, warning, "Don't act like a scared country hick! You promised--" Marie interrupted reassuringly, "You'll love everything that happens to you here. Please trust me."

Laura declared, "I'm not afraid! I'll go first at whatever demonstration you have to make."

"Good girl!" Uncle Malcolm said with an approving smile. "You'll find everything done here is a lot less risky than even the best commercial flying. I promised neither of you would experience any actual pain."

"I'm not afraid!" Laura repeated.

Marie nodded, smiling, and gestured Laura to her. She turned and led the way on to a strange-appearing, large chair in the center of the spooky room. Laura released her hold on my hand and followed Marie to the chair. Marie indicated Laura was to seat herself in it; Laura did. She regretted it immediately. Instantly leather cuffs closed around her wrists and ankles, fastening Laura in the chair securely. Her eyes widened with surprise; suddenly she didn't look all that cool. I had to hold back an impulse to giggle, feeling strangely gratified, certain that Laura wasn't so full of cool now.

Marie patted Laura's shoulder and told her, "Just relax now, and trust me. You won't be hurt."

Laura gave her a sickly smile, obviously having to force it. Again I had to repress an impulse to giggle, experiencing strange satisfaction from sight of Laura's discomfort.

Marie stepped to a cabinet at one side against a wall. She opened it to reveal an assortment of whips. My impulse to giggle vanished as quickly as it had come. I knew a whip when I saw it. Despite the promises of these two strangers that Laura and I wouldn't be hurt, a whip was a whip and whips hurt whatever they were used on, animal or human. I'd seen whips used back home on the ranch.

Again as if reading my mind, Marie turned to me, inviting, "I want you to come examine these. You'll find none of them is really as frightening as they may look."

Reluctantly I walked past the suave stranger we'd foolishly agreed to call Uncle Malcolm. I went to Marie. As I approached, she extended one of the whips from the assortment. Its lash dangled before me. I caught the whiplash in one hand and instantly was amazed at its feeling of softness. I found the lash was composed of braided strands of soft silk with a dried orange seed fastened at the end. Above the lash, instead of braided leather like that in a conventional whipstock, were strands of braided velvet.

"The very worst this whip can do is create a slight stinging sensation in the skin," Marie explained. "Being lashed with any of these whips stimulates surface circulation, drawing an increased supply of blood into the skin of the area receiving the caress. That heightens both the quantity and the quality of sensation in that area. It's very much the same process as that used by Scandinavian peoples in their steam baths when they flail each other with the tender tips of small birch limbs. It may make the skin seem to burn from its increased supply of blood, but it doesn't hurt. In fact, just the opposite."

Marie then stepped to a panel of toggle switches near the chair. The first switch she flicked brought something to life inside the chair. Both armrests moved away from the chair, taking Laura's imprisoned arms with them. That slow but relentless movement continued until Laura's arms finally were extended full length from her shoulders at right angles to her sides.

Marie stepped in beside her and unbuttoned Laura's blouse. The blouse fell open and Laura's breasts escaped their minimal restraint to come springing out proudly into full view. Uncle Malcolm licked his lips and murmured, "What a pair of fresh beauties!" I noticed Laura didn't look exactly thrilled about his obvious admiration. In fact she looked like she was feeling just about as uncool as I would have felt in her place. Again I found myself feeling strangely pleased by her discomfort.

Marie stepped back to the control panel and flicked another switch; more whirring sounds came from inside the chair. It slowly changed shape, becoming a kind of bed upon which Laura was stretched. A doctor's examination table would be a better description of it. Of course no doctor's examination table has the array of features that piece of equipment boasted. For example, a section under Laura's rump lowered at the flick of another switch; Marie stepped in again to pull Laura's dress up and her panties down, exposing her bare ass to all of us. I began to get a strong hunch about what was in store for Laura.

Obviously Laura did too. She began whining, "I think I'd like to change my mind. Please?"

Marie pulled Laura's panties on down to her ankles, released one ankle from the cuff imprisoning it and pulled that foot free of the panties. She had the ankle clamped back into the cuff before Laura realized it had been momentarily free. Marie flicked more switches. The section under Laura's bare ass moved back upward, restoring support to that portion of her body. But its upward movement didn't stop; it kept raising until Laura's bare ass had been lifted higher than her head or feet, creating an arch of her body. While that was happening, the footrests moved apart until her legs were spread wide open, exposing her cunt like merchandise on a display rack. She squawked again, "Please stop! I've changed my mind!"

"Never change your mind, my dear, once you've embarked upon an adventure," Uncle Malcolm chided gently. "Once you've started, turning back is an act of cowardice."

"But I'm scared!" Laura wailed, then broke off with a gasp because Marie had brought the lash of the whip singing down upon Laura's naked breasts. Before Laura could tell whether she'd been hurt or not, Marie brought the lash down again, then again and again and again. Soon a bright flush colored the soft skin of both Laura's breasts. Both nipples were standing rigidly at attention as if someone had been sucking and tonguing them. She began to squirm and moan, a crooked smile twisting her face, her eyes closed. Obviously she was experiencing pleasant sensations as the silken lashes of the whip continued caressing her naked boobs.

Another sharp gasp came out of Laura; the lash had gone singing down into her open cunt for the first time. She not only grunted, she farted explosively as her belly muscles suddenly tensed with surprise. Instantly her face turned as beet red as her tits were. I almost strangled, holding back the laughter. It made me feel sadistic, guilty, but I still was just barely able to hold back the laughter.

Laura gasped again, but not so sharply as before, when the lash came singing down upon her defenseless cunt and clitoris again. After that her gasps began sounding more and more like moans filled with the sound of pleasure, excruciatingly intense.

Just when it seemed obvious that Laura was about to trigger off into orgasm, Marie switched the silken lash back to her tits. Each time it hit, streaks of glistening moisture were left across the flesh, trails of the slippery juices the lash had been bathed in as it had gone singing through Laura's open cunt. When those glistening trails were no longer left by the silken strands as they caressed Laura's naked boobs, Marie switched the attack back to her cunt. She kept it up until Laura again seemed right on the verge of blasting out into orgasmic space. Marie switched back to Laura's breasts until the strands of the lash again were dry.

Back and forth, from breasts to cunt and back to the blushing breasts again, Marie switched the direction of the caressing blows, never letting Laura quite topple over the brink into the release of orgasm. Finally Laura was screaming and writhing against her restraints, struggling to thrust her blazing cunt upward to meet the ravishing silk, trying frantically to make the impact of its caress hard enough to trigger her release. As I watched, I no longer felt like laughing; I was scared. Laura looked to me like she had been driven to the point of just about blowing her mind.

Marie finally showed some mercy as she stroked the silken lash downward across Laura's rigid clitoris and the open lips of her gushing cunt until Laura made it all the way. Once she started, I thought she was never going to stop. Laura's orgasm kept on and on and on, with her screaming and struggling all the way. Finally I lunged at Marie, pinning the arm that was pouring the lash to Laura's pulsating cunt. I yelled, "Stop it, before you kill her!"

Marie didn't offer any resistance. She gave me a wry smile, murmuring, "Every one of us girls should be lucky enough to live until we die that way." She turned and went to hang the whip back in the cabinet. After that she flipped switches that soon had Laura seated in a big chair again. The cuffs holding her wrists and ankles were opened, but Laura didn't move; she just sat there with a tired but utterly blissful smile spread all over her face. I was afraid that she actually had blown her mind entirely, that she'd been sent on a trip she was never going to make it back from. Relief flooded through me when Laura suddenly exclaimed, "What a way to come! I'd never have believed it!"

"Well, don't be selfish, dear," Uncle Malcolm chided. "Move to a spectator's seat. It's Trina's turn now."

"Don't worry about it!" I snapped. "Trina will struggle, if she has to, and just do without her turn!"

"You surprise me, my dear. You, a girl from old Wyoming, with no sense of adventure?" Uncle Malcolm taunted.

"I'll get all the adventure I need exploring all the various kinds of plain and fancy fucking and oral sexual kicks," I countered almost angrily. "But this kind of stuff is just a short step away from--" Right there Laura turned traitor, interrupting to chide me scornfully, "You're only a short step away from being disgusting! You've seen everything that'll happen, so you won't get any surprises like I did. Either take your turn or I pin the square badge of the 24-carat phony on you, little chum!"

I could have killed her! I wanted to try ignoring her, but my damned pride wouldn't let me. Who the hell did she think she was, anyhow, coming down on me like that? I'd taken risks like she'd never taken and had sexual adventures like she'd never had. I'd damned well show her where she could put her 24-carat phony badge!

I was so mad I didn't even have regrets or get scared all over again when the cuffs locked around my wrists and ankles. Before I sat down in the damned trick chair, however, I'd defiantly peeled off my panties and thrown them at Marie. Then I'd gotten an even better inspiration; I stripped off all the rest of my clothing. I was bare-assed naked when the cuffs closed, locking me in that leather overstuffed rig. I went limp against the chair, making my flesh like putty as the thing moved under me, spreading my arms and legs and hoisting my ass to- ward the ceiling. I'd show them! I'd act like this cruddy bondage contraption and the cruddy whips were a big zero, a total washout, a complete bore.

I can say this much for myself; I gave my ambition to get through the experience with at least feigned indifference a damned good try. But human flesh can endure only so much sensation, good or bad, before automatic reactions overwhelm you.