Controlling Christine, Book One

Chapter One The Awakening John I knew that Christine was more than a little reluctant to have to wear the bright, heavy steel rings, but she had eventually consented to having them fitted, a month previously, as my birthday gift to her. Until now I’d left them pretty much alone, ensuring that all of the piercings healed completely and no complications arose from the emplacement of the multiple holes now willingly resident in her flesh. I wanted to make absolutely sure that all of the thick, surgical-quality, stainless steel bonds (for that is, in reality, what they were, rather than jewellery, as she’d initially thought) weren’t going to cause any unforeseen problems. She wasn’t entirely happy about being required to wear them day and night and was even less enamoured of the idea when they were welded closed so that she couldn’t, on her own, free herself of them. They were, from that point forward and to all intents and purposes, irremovable. She though, had gradually grown accustomed to their weight and inescapable presence and eventually stopped complaining. Certainly, I’d teased her occasionally by grasping one or another and giving it a playful little flip, but for the most part just ignored them, intentionally. Over the past six months, I’d made her more and more mine. I had progressively fitted her first with plain, though very shiny, steel jewellery-like wrist- and ankle-cuffs. Next had come a wide and quite thick collar, and finally, a specially formed and quite severe steel waist cinch. Each time a new piece or set of pieces was fitted, I’d allowed a couple of weeks to pass uneventfully and she’d, again, gradually grown used to their weight and feel. Although we hadn’t made any concrete plans as to the future joining of our lives, we both knew that it would happen eventually and in our various discussions, had covered the area of becoming partners in great detail. After some soul-searching, we’d decided that we really didn’t want to have the responsibility of children in our lives, and so, two weeks previously, I’d taken her back to The Clinic and had all of her cuffs, the cinch, and her collar welded closed also. They too had become, like her rings, completely irremovable. Today it was time to acquaint her with some of the more arcane purposes of her exotic jewellery. “Christine!” I called quietly through the now unlocked door to her bedroom/cell. It was hidden behind a sliding panel and the clothing in my closet, locking electronically from my bedside table. For a moment there was no motion from the dimly lit hump of her body under the gleaming black rubber sheet, then with a subdued clatter of her bed restraints, she writhed slowly, trying to sit up. Her wide green eyes stared back at me above the securely locked-on restriction of the rubber and steel appliance that cupped and imprisoned her lower face and head. “Time to get up, honey, and face the new day. I’ve got plans.” “Mmmmpphhgg,” she moaned, closing her eyes and beginning to slide back into the warm, slippery rubber cocoon of her bed. “Come on, dear!” I cajoled, “Time to rise and shine.” “Uuurrrghh!!” she protested, kicking at the restricting rubber that covered her until it eventually slipped from the thick-skinned foam mattress with a heavy slithering, to reveal the dully gleaming, sweat-slicked inner surfaces. The tightly strung, strong rubber straps locked to the side rings of her steel cinch came into full view. These were only one set of the restraint network that kept her a prisoner in the bed. She lay looking at me reproachfully when I turned the lights to full brightness on entering the black-walled, ceilinged and carpeted chamber. “I guess I’ll have to release you, hmm?” I asked, walking over to the queen-sized, platform bed and looking down at her small, restrained and delectable body. She nodded vigorously, tugging her hands and arms against the chains that connected them to the front of her deeply cinched belt. She was secure enough but as a matter of course I checked her fastenings. There was no wear on her chains or the straps connecting her body and ankles to their mounts in the steel frame of the bed and as was normal procedure, she bent forward and I checked her collar chain. No wear showed and of course the chain remained virtually unmarked. “Okay, dear. Hang on a minute while I release these tensioners.” I bent down and flipped the release lever for her left side cinch strap and while walking around the end of the bed, unlocked her loosely connected ankle chain also, then flipped up the lever on the right side tensioner. Both devices were located at floor level, beneath the overhang of the frame, so there was no possible way she could get at them once they were adjusted and locked closed. Her wrists were next, then I unlocked the back-of-the-collar bed-leash from its fitting on the headboard leaving the leash connected to her collar. She sat up, gesturing to her gag. “Oh, all right. I guess I better get you out of that thing too, hmm?” “Uuuhh!! Uuuhhnn!” she nodded emphatically, swinging her feet to the side of the bed and turning her back to me. When she turned, the long, gleaming, light-weight, ‘reminder chains’ that permanently connected her wrist cuffs to her collar back-ring as well as the other set between her ankle-cuffs and the side rings of her belt flashed and swung in bright, musically clinking loops. I parted her cascading hair to reveal the wide, locked band of the gag at the nape of her neck and immediately connected her longer ‘house’ leash, then, with a quick couple of passes of the electronic key, released her from the bed leash and her gag. She reached up and slowly peeled the formed, woven steel wire, rubber-covered, face strap and chin-cup away from her flesh then turned to me. “Now I suppose you want me to take the gag-pad out too?” I asked in teasing shock at her temerity. “Umm hmmmngh!” she nodded emphatically, missing my attempt at humour while she struggled to free herself of the huge, form-fitted, rubber pad, this held captive behind and by her teeth, inside her mouth. I unbuckled the narrow inner ‘security’ strap that kept it deeply inserted, pulling at the corners of her lips. She relaxed slightly then struggled to draw them back, opening her mouth as widely as possible, but was still unable to expel the silencing pad. Reaching to her face, I slowly worked a pair of wide, spatulate tweezers between her teeth then squeezed the grips forcefully, flattening the thick resilient pad just enough to get it past her teeth, something she couldn’t manage on her own. It withdrew slowly, accompanied by a sucking sound and for a moment she silently worked her jaws. “Thank God that thing’s off!” she whispered hoarsely, licking her full lips. She stood then turned and looked up at me from her diminutive five foot two height. “Rubber ducky time?” she asked with an impish smile. “Yep!” I grinned back at her, “Time to get your butt into the shower! Today’s going to be very interesting for you.” “Oh?” she inquired archly, staring back at me over her delicate, sun-browned shoulder when she walked past the deeply padded, steel door of her cell and out into my bedroom with a sexily inviting sway of her generous hips. “What have you got planned for me today, you great big evil Master?” “For the moment, sweetie, you’re going to have to wonder!” I grinned back at her. “Time for your shower and make-up. I’ll go down and start the coffee while you get yourself fixed up, Okay?” “Okay!” her voice echoed from the en suite, almost lost in the rushing sounds of the shower cascading into the tub. I emerged from her cell, closed and locked its door, then slid the concealing panel across and went downstairs to the kitchen. Christine It was a wonderful relief to be released from my bed and get out of the cloying and restricting rubber cocoon, to say nothing of finally being able to move freely again after being strapped down for eight hours! Although I’d willingly agreed to it at first, I really hated being gagged every night with that horrid thing. My Master insisted that it was a condition that I had to accept and reminded me of my agreement to the condition, and everything else, when we’d become ‘engaged’ if I complained. The mouth-pad was really a trial though, for on my own I couldn’t manage to squeeze it down small enough to get it past my teeth and even if my hands were free and the inner and outer straps were unlocked, I couldn’t manage it, but it was much better than having to wear the awful, full-head helmet over it, also! He imposed that on me for the night, in addition, if I’d been ‘bad’ or sometimes just because he felt like it. His plans for me were pretty elaborate I’d discovered. My cell and new home was next to his bedroom, and it was only the first surprise of many after he’d first carried me, in chains, across the threshold of his secluded mansion. He’d taken me to it immediately, then collared and leashed me, informing me then, that from that point on I would always be kept on one while at home, and most of the time while in public, too. I’d gradually become used to the fact that I was indeed his captive although that took ten days of tears and useless pleadings. A week later I’d happily and readily agreed to being fitted with the beginnings of my controlling ensemble, the stainless steel ankle and wrist cuffs, the wide collar and a very tight steel belt. The belt was the hardest to get used to, for it clamped deeply and firmly into my waist, so much so that I couldn’t even writhe within its grip, having to endure its constant squeezing pressure and confinement. Sometime later we’d made the decision that they were all to be made non-removable and so, they had all been welded closed! I wanted it to happen at the time, but when the full realization hit, that they were truly affixed to me until the end of my life, I spent the next three days alternately fighting to tear them from their encirclement of my body, limbs, and neck and begging him to release me from them. He was adamant though, insisting that I stick with my written, video-taped, and freely-given agreement giving him total control of me, by whatever means and fixtures he deemed necessary. It took me a long time to get used to the weight of the metal that held me prisoner, and the restrictions of the accompanying light but very strong chains (he called them ‘reminder chains;) that followed my every movement and made me so much more vulnerable to his control. The worst part of my whole initiation experience took place each night when he drew me by my house leash purposefully and unsympathetically into my small bedroom/cell. Once inside he’d silently short-chain me to the ring above the centre of the steel headboard of my rubberized bed, then slowly and with relish he’d strap me down then seal me in, fully gagged. I’d thought I would sleep with him every night! As matters turned out, that was not to be. It occurred only rarely, leaving me to spend every night in silenced tears, struggling alone to escape my sweaty and cloying rubber envelope. It wasn’t that he was really unkind to me, but just the way he’d decided that I was to begin learning of and enjoying my desire to have my life completely regulated. He’d told me before, a little, of what was to happen, and so I knew that my existence was definitely not going to be all flowers, lace, and poetry! After turning on the shower and stepping into the hot spray I inspected my cuffs and what little I could see of my deeply compressing belt for the thousandth time, trying to find some way of escaping them. Their sturdy construction and welded, smoothly-polished joints utterly defied my probings. As usual, I gave up and began to soap myself thoroughly, allowing the needling jets of the water to soothe away the strained and sore muscles that had developed from last nights strenuous love-making. It was the first time he’d made love to me while I was gagged and fully bound on my bed and I’d found the experience quite a strain, but totally exciting too! I took particular care to clean my reminder chains. He inspected them every day, then I washed all around my rings, pulling gently on each of them, hoping against hope to find a break in their super-hardened circles. With each gentle tug, I felt the rigidness of the steel within my flesh and the sensations of the thick metal pulling at me was both a physical and mental strangeness that I still had trouble accepting. Knowing that there was no way I could remove them served only to heighten my awareness, making me shiver every time I handled them and causing goose-bumps to rise all over. Too, I could feel a flush of excitement colour my cheeks and deep in my belly a warmth began stealing between my clenching thighs each time. The only one that could be removed, for the moment, was the steel U-shaped shackle locked through the septum of my nose and it was only released if I was to be permitted out in public, being replaced immediately as soon as I was back in the house. I couldn’t figure out how the fastening worked and so had to endure its humiliating presence as best I could. I’d registered some faint objections to all the stuff he’d fastened to me, but deep down I wanted to be compelled to do it and so they were really only token protests. Quickly, I finished washing and stepped from the tub. The towels were thick and fluffy and greedily sucked up the water still beaded on my skin. After using the facilities, I brushed my teeth, then sat down and concentrated on my make-up, a process that took nearly fifteen minutes of delicate, meticulous work, before I stepped into the master bedroom. Previous to him cuffing my wrists and equipping me with the reminder chains, I’d been quite adept at applying the subtle tones and colours that a really good make-up job requires, but once I bore the restraints I’d had to relearn the whole process. The weight of the cuffs and the swinging of the chains attached to them threw my concentration and technique off completely and many times I emerged from the bathroom in frustrated tears and anger at the botched jobs that had resulted. Childlike, I’d just wept and pulled and jerked at my fastenings, trying uncaringly to escape them. He’d brooked none of this type of emotional display and a couple of times had taken me over his knee and spanked me until I howled. I was, of course, totally controllable when he did, unable to escape his punishments because of my leash. After he’d pulled me to him by it and flung me over his leg, he’d grasp my reminder chains at their fastening point on the back of my high collar, slide his hand out along their lengths until my wrists were drawn together behind my back, then raise them high over my exposed buttocks, keeping me fully face downwards and totally helpless. He didn’t spare me, nor did he really hurt me when I got spanked, but it stung like the dickens after he’d given me a dozen on each cheek. When he’d finished my correction, I’d be sent back to the bathroom to clean myself up and try again. Now, he stood waiting while I walked over to him accompanied by the constant soft musical clatter of my chains. When I came to stand before him, he reached behind my back and grabbed my swaying wrist links with one hand and my ankle chains with the other, pulling me closer to him while I playfully fought against the restraints, shivering with the delicious fear of being so utterly controllable now that I wore them. He bent me backwards from the waist, sliding his closed fist down until my hands were pulled behind my back, at which point he leaned down and kissed me thoroughly, his tongue spearing deeply into my opened and ready mouth. “Oh! You’re sooooo mean!” I gasped teasingly while he held me his helpless prisoner, jerking fitfully against my obdurate tethers. “Yep! That’s me!” he grinned, releasing me for the moment. “Hold still, Christine. I’m going to take your nose ring out and put the keeper in, then you’re gonna get equipped and dressed for the day.” “Oh, okay.” I agreed and lifted my face so that he could release the ring that, if worn in public, would mark me so much as his possession. He picked up a special pair of pliers and in a second the heavy silvery U lay glittering in his palm. In another moment the ‘keeper’ had been placed its hole far up in my septum’s cartilage and now I knew for sure that I was going to be allowed to leave the house. My heart sang when I realized it. Despite all the entertainment facilities available here, I desperately needed to get out and see the real world occasionally. “You’re going to go shopping for the whole afternoon on your own, My sweet!” he announced with amusement quirking his lips. “I want you to enjoy your day and so I’ve put quite a wad of cash in your purse so that you can do it in style.” “Oh, Master!” I yelped happily, clapping my hands and making the looping links of my wrist chains flash, “I’m really going to be allowed to go out?” “Yes Ma’am!” he grinned at my enthusiasm and joy, “You’re gonna be able to go almost completely crazy today. I’ll take you downtown, then pick you up about six tonight.” “Oh, that’s great! Thank you, Master!” “You’re welcome, honey,” he smiled, then spoke again. “Naturally, dear, I want you properly protected and under control while you’re out there in the big nasty world, so I’m going to fix you with a special type of bondage for your outing.” “Oooohhhh! Must you, Master?” I whimpered plaintively, my enthusiasm quite dampened by the prospect of being kept under his continuing control. “You must, My sweet,” he affirmed positively. “Don’t worry though, I don’t think anyone will notice your state. Most people wear blinkers all the time and it’s not likely they’ll even notice your jewellery and other accessories.” “Oh damn!” I sniffled, crestfallen that I’d still be kept in restraints, even though they’d be hidden by my clothing. “Now come, dear,” he said positively, “This is going to be a day you’ll remember for quite a while!” His words turned out to be more prophetic than I could have imagined.