Controlling Christine, Book One

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Jewellery, Chains, and Dressing

John

Her first article of clothing was a long and severely sculpted red leather corset, doubly-boned and closed by tough wire lacing. I’d purchased the garment for from a specialty craftsman in Belgium just a month ago and this was to be her first taste of it. In seconds I’d wrapped the rubber-lined garment carefully around her torso, clipping the front closed, then threaded the laces over the wide protective busk at the back. This corset was much more restricting than its name implied, for it had a built-in shoulder brace that would ensure she shamelessly flaunted her quite respectably sized breasts. The custom-made garment curved exactly under each and its wide divider at the front kept them well separated, then it descended far down over her hips. At the bottom front, it curved up to leave the area over her crotch open and a similar though narrower U just over the crevice of her buttocks allowed access to her body there too. It was designed so that when it reached maximum tightness, the rings on her steel cinch would slip through reinforced slots, thus allowing me to fasten the rest of her outfit in place.

She began to gasp while I slowly drew the laces tighter and tighter until at last the corset’s edges met from just below her shoulder blades, all the way down to the tops of her delightful ass cheeks. It held her torso rigid, then I pulled in the shoulder brace straps until she began to shudder with strain, gasping and moaning when she tried to hunch her shoulders and prevent the brazen display of her breasts, but now there was no way for her to even think about hiding them by slouching. I stood back and admired her proud but definitely unwanted posture.

“Honey, you do look a sight!” I whistled.

She blushed prettily, standing before me, then tried to wriggle herself into a more comfortable position inside the strict garment. She couldn’t escape its pervasive grip.

“Okay, Christine,” I said casually, picking up the first of her jewellery chains. “Hold still while I lock this to your ear-rings.”

“A-alright,” she agreed a little mournfully, bending her head forward and reaching up to brush aside her hair. The glittering links of her collar to wrist cuff reminder chains flashed their message of confinement and controllability when she moved her arm.

This first chain led from behind each ear, around the back of her neck beneath her long hair, fastening with enough tension that it tugged gently but persistently on her ear lobes. At the centre back of her neck, another chain dangled loosely for the moment from the central link, down over her corseted spine. The second additions were heavy, long, dangling silver rods and from the tips of each of these, other fine chains hung loosely to her shoulders and around to the front, descending to clip to her n****e rings. If she turned her head from side to side, she’d feel them sweep back and forth over the upper slopes of her breasts but be unable to remove them. Next, I joined her n****e rings to each other with a length of the small-linked yet quite strong golden chain so that it looped downwards in a gentle catenary curve between the proud turrets of her femininity. There were two more sets of individual, thin, half inch wide, flat-linked chains clipped to these rings also, for the moment hanging weightily.

She stood stoically and silently while I added these, each small, shuddering breath trembling her increasingly captive flesh. A couple of times she almost spoke when the secure little snaps at the ends of the chains locked closed, but managed to keep silent while her adornment continued. I concentrated on ensuring that each chain fitted perfectly, saying nothing and nudging her when required.

Another, much longer ‘Y’ chain-set, hung down from her n*****s to the protruding central front ring of her belt, where the tail was threaded through it, then locked, the balance being left to dangle over her depilated crotch. With the tension I applied, every breath she drew now would ensure that this last set tugged downwards on her sensitive n*****s. I drew the flat-linked pair from her n*****s, around the sides of her chest and locked them to the chain descending from the back of her neck. This set was placed under enough tension that they too pulled gently and firmly on her n*****s, keeping them forcibly and uncomfortably separated, while at the same time maintaining the tension on the vertical chain, and thus her ear-lobes.

“Oh, wow!” she gasped as the various strains began to make themselves felt. At the centre of her back, I locked the vertical chain to a ring on her belt, and put it under enough tension to remind her of its presence, forcing her to arch her back even more. If she tried to lower her head her ear lobes would receive a painful jerk.

“Now it gets interesting, Christine.” I smiled at her when I straightened up. “I’ve got some special delights for you down below.”

“I’ll just bet you can’t wait either, can you, Master?” she gasped and smiled weakly at me while her hands and fingers explored the web of chains fastened to her n****e rings, tugging very gently on each one.

“Well, dear, you’ll just have to wear these for a couple of days to get used to them, I suppose.” I stated. “Spread your legs. This is a fairly delicate operation and I don’t want to pinch you, okay?”

“Ohhh!” she pouted, then did as I’d commanded.

I knelt in front of her, then took more of the chain from its labelled pouches. At her crotch, I clipped a long snake-like one to her clit hood ring and a similar snake-chain to the ring that actually transfixed her c******s, leaving them both to dangle freely, for the moment, between her thighs. Their ends hung to just below her knees. I picked up a shiny and thick metal U. This piece of intimate hardware was highly polished and had a small O at the bottom outer side, turned to a right angle. Each arm of the U was some six inches in length and their substantial thicknesses were gently bullet-tipped. Actually, it wasn’t a true U shape, but that’s the easiest way to describe the intimately curved device. I quickly coated it with a lubricant then slowly introduced it to her quivering body.

“Ohhhhhhhhh! Masterrrr!” she gasped and shivered as it simultaneously pressed deeply into her s*x and anal passage.

I stared at the silvery projecting metal linking and plugging her two nether openings, then slowly and carefully from the front and top began threading a substantial, curved, metal rod through the seven rings in each of her outer vaginal lips. With this, the rings were tightly interlaced and virtually sealed her womanhood. As the bullet-nosed tip approached the mid-point deep between her thighs, its end slipped through the small O on the bottom of the device already embedded in her s*x and bowel, then continued up into the crevice of her buttocks. She gasped and twitched again when the thick metal shafts moved within her, then settled down to a gentle thigh-quivering reaction while the ring-threaded bar was pulled tightly against her belly and locked to the chain dangling from the front of her waist-band. There was no doubt that she felt the intimate tugs on her labia rings and the movement of the U within herself, and it was readily apparent that she was sealed for however long I desired. Bodily functions would still be possible, but with some difficulty. Next, I locked the dangling chain from the back of her belt to the continuance of the bar pressing up between her buttocks and left the balance of this chain and the one to the front section to dangle to the same length as her c******s chains. She gasped again in surprise when she felt their feather-light touch on the sensitive backs and inner surfaces of her thighs when she moved, trying to accustom herself to the strange sensations.

From the side-rings of the waist-band, I led two heavier flat-linked chains down along the line of her thigh and torso join, deep in her crotch. They were already welded together at this point and pressed lightly on the bar nestling so intimately between her legs. Then they were drawn tightly up under her buttocks and back to the same connections they’d started from. With each step, although she didn’t yet realize it at this point, she’d feel them restrict her freedom slightly and they’d continually pull her buttocks up into a prominent deliciously wriggling display. Bending over from the waist would alleviate the tension somewhat, but as soon as she straightened they’d make themselves felt again, pulling her bottom cheeks up and out in erotic and unavoidable display. I sat back on my haunches and inspected the bondage I’d placed her in, watching the reminder chains to her ankle cuffs flash and swing when she moved her legs experimentally. They definitely reinforced her bound appearance. In a moment I had the lacing slits for these chains in the corset closed and locked also.

“Okay, Christine!” I smiled at her as I stood up. “That’s about it for the moment, as far as your chains are concerned. Now it’s time to put on your clothes. They’re over there on the bed.”

“Heavens!” she demurred, placing a pensive finger on her full lips, “Real clothes? And just for me?”

“Now, dear.” I admonished with fake severity, “You’re not being a little sarcastic, are you?”

“Oh, my goodness!” she said, a little wary of her brashness, “Not me, Master!”

I grinned at her and again indicated her clothing.

Christine

The tension on my vaginal lip rings was very disconcerting, as were the intrusions into my body and a wave of embarrassment swept up over my face when he locked the buttock chains in place. I knew that they’d make my ass stand out and wriggle and I’d always been self-conscious about how big it seemed.

With slow deliberate steps I walked to the bed and looked down at what he had selected as my other undergarments for the day. For some reason I wasn’t surprised a bit. My corset and shoulder brace weren’t at all comfortable and I stared at the next pieces with some trepidation. There were a pair of bright red, satin, lacy, open-crotch briefs and I stepped into them and waited while he threaded my dangling chains. The elastic waistband snapped tight onto my belt-captured waist when he released it around the corset and I felt more naked than if I wore nothing at all! Next, he handed me a matching, half-cup bra. I struggled to put it on and get properly settled within it while he fastened the four clips of the tight and wide chest-band at my back. It proved to be somewhat more of a trial than it might have appeared, I found, when he hooked the clasps of the chest-band together. The slack of the various chains connected to my n*****s disappeared! The shorter one was now stretched tautly between them inside the semi-rigid half cups holding my breasts up for display. An inner, downward-facing hook at the central juncture of the cup’s under-wire support, on the front, had captured the chain within the garment so that it couldn’t slip out and loosen the tension on my n*****s! The other set locked to my belt at the front was pressed deeply into the flesh under each n****e by the tightly clamped, hidden wire former, adding even more discomfort. I tried to slouch over to ease these tensions and reduce my flaunting display, but of course when I did, the chain down my back suddenly asserted its authority and I felt a distinctly uncomfortable tug on my earlobes. The side chains from my n*****s to the back chain were concealed beneath the wide satin chest-band and they too tugged to either side on my already tensioned n*****s! The brace part of the corset kept me in the exaggerated posture, for he’d adjusted the straps to thrumming tightness, making them bed firmly into my shoulders so that I couldn’t shrug out of them. To ensure that I didn’t try to slip out of the bra, he clipped the narrow straps to small eyelets on the brace’s, keeping me firmly harnessed within that garment also.

I shook my head a little, almost voicing my disenchantment with these elaborate restrictions and once more felt the multitude of tensions on my ears when the under-the-hair chain and its vertical component stopped the motion. Too, when I did, the long dangly earrings with their chains to my n*****s swung back and forth, lightly brushing against my neck and across my breasts. With each short panting breath I could feel every tension and strain. He handed me a scarf and I knotted it carefully around my neck, for the most part concealing the two and a half inch wide steel choker/collar that encased it.

“Christine, hold your hands over your head while I help you put on the blouse.”

“Yes, Master,” I murmured, glad to have some kind of covering of my bizarre costume and the jewellery-like but strong chains webbing my body.

He slipped the almost sheer blouse down my arms then over my head and let it settle while he engaged all the small buttons on the back. I slipped into its softness with relief, hoping that its filmy vagueness would at least partially hide everything I wore beneath. The long cuffs barely concealed the wide, flat, silvery bondage of my wrist-bands and the chains linking them to my collar. Next, he indicated that I was to don a long, full, tan-coloured suede leather skirt. It was embroidered with decorative scrollwork consisting of metallic threads and studs that on the front and back scooped gracefully down to its hem at mid-calf. Throughout the design of metallic adornment there were dozens of short chains with small rings on their ends so that when I moved they’d make a distinctive tinkling sound. I gratefully held my arms up again and slipped into the garment, knowing that it would surely hide my elaborate and restrictive underpinnings. He fastened it around my waist over the belt and corset already compressing my belly. A pair of four-inch heeled, knee high boots came next and I slipped my foot into the comfortable shoe portion, having to stand straighter when he placed the second one on my other foot. Before he zipped them closed, each boot was secured inside to its respective ankle cuff ring with a small lock, rendering them irremovable too!

He knelt in front of me again, but it certainly wasn’t to worship! From his pocket he retrieved two small silver bells, raised the front of my skirt, then locked them to the chains swinging from the front and back of my anal/vaginal sealing bar. I’d been belled! With my skirt still raised, he gently took my clit hood chain and threaded it through an eyelet within the decorative scrollwork on the front, then locked a small ring through the last link, now on the outer surface of the skirt, thus ensuring that the chain would remain fastened. The clit ring chain was fed trough a similar eyelet at the back of, but what I didn’t see or feel immediately, was the small sliding weight on each of these chains that would keep their rings snugly against their respective grommets. He allowed the skirt to resume its normal drape and I looked down apprehensively, noting that the innocent-appearing ring blended into the metallic decorations, its free end dangling amidst dozens of others, but utterly more potent than its mates. The chain ran easily, but it couldn’t be pulled back through the grommet! In effect I’d been locked into my skirt and I vaguely realized that it could be used as a leash, should it ever be segregated from its fellows. Some of the potential of this peculiar bondage set-up was revealed when I was turned to complete the connections. When the skirt flared while I twirled, it pulled gently on my c******s hood ring at the front and I gasped with surprised revelation and fear, praying that it wouldn’t snag on some unnoticed protrusion.

“Master?” I gasped, writhing a little from the continual teasing tension on my s*x chains, “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, this is just going to be a little demo of how much control you’re under, sweetie,” he stated vaguely. “Now just hold still for a moment.”

He clipped a fine chain to the clit-ring one on the front of my skirt, then, still holding it loosely, walked around and connected a similar one to the back ring. I looked over my shoulder as much as I could against the controlling tugs on my ear lobes, trying to inspect the length of fine but sturdy chromed links hanging from their connection on my skirt to a little pile on the floor behind my boot heels. Its other end led to a ring on the foot of his bed. He walked back to stand in front of me, the first length falling in loose coils through his fingers.

“N-n-now what?” I asked apprehensively as he stood there smiling at me.

“This little exercise, Christine, is to demonstrate how effective the chains are,” he enthused, “Now, I want you to just follow me.”

“I-I-I don’t think I’m going to like this? OOOoouuucchh!” I muttered, then yelped as he walked towards the door and the chain from his fist drew tight to where it disappeared into its grommet on the front of my skirt. The inner and hidden portion of the chain slipped easily through the metal-rimmed hole, then the decorated front panel of the skirt rose as the tension increased, placing its weight on the chain and thus my clit hood ring! I was immediately forced to take two steps towards him to lessen the horrible hidden tension under my skirt.

“Oooouuuhh! Please! Master!” I wailed, trying to bend over and reach the looping chain, but kept upright by the tight corset and back-chain while he stood watching me struggle.

“Come along, Christine,” he urged, taking another two steps away, almost to the door.

“Ooouuch!! Aaaarrgghh!!” I yelped when the tension increased yet again. “Please-please-please!” I begged, moving closer, only to have him withdraw another two steps. At this point I’d completely forgotten the chain leading from the back of my skirt and wanted only to stop the terrible drag on my most sensitive flesh.

I took another step forward and the chain behind me suddenly sprang tight between its mounting and my body!

“YYYYyyoooowww!” I let go with a full-blooded scream at the horrible pull, stopping immediately and trying to back up, flailing my arms frantically and trying to beat down the weight of the skirt, but he increased the tension on my front leash!

“Oh, my God!!!” I shrieked at the terrible hidden tensions. They seemed destined to pull me to pieces. “Please! Please! Please, loosen the chains, Master!!”

I couldn’t move forward or back! No matter which way I went, the tension increased and I couldn’t even turn sideways! My legs and arms quivered with reaction while I tried to find some way to avoid the torturing pulls. There was none and my eyes brimmed with tears of embarrassed distraction.

“That’s how the inner chains work,” he explained jovially, then loosened his grip on the front one and walked towards me. I immediately backed up and the terrible dragging under my skirt eased when the chains slid easily back through their grommets. “Should prove to be an interesting day for you, now that you know what these can do, hmm?”

“Th-they’re evil!” I wailed, almost in tears while he unclipped both of the leashes and hung them on the bed post. “I, uh, don’t think I want to go to town, Master. Please?”

“Oh come, come, honey. I know you’ll get a charge out of it!” he laughed, “Especially when you think about how no one else knows but us!”

“B-b-but I-I’m scared.” I whimpered.

“Well, not to worry. You’re going whether you like it or not. Now let’s have some coffee before we leave,” he ordered complacently while I struggled to accept the intimate and utterly feminine fastenings attached to me beneath my innocent appearing street clothing.

The last part of my preparation occurred when he told me to raise my arms slightly then wrapped a wide, fashionable-appearing leather belt around my compressed waist. The buckle at the front with its swinging sets of glittering gilt chains was purely decorative, while at the back, solidly connected to and fastened tightly over the waist-band of the skirt was the real joint.

The ends were locked together and I knew that it would be utterly impossible to remove the garment, much as I might wish to. I shuddered with fearful anticipation then walked carefully out the door and ahead of him down the stairs, cautiously bundling the full skirt around my trembling legs so that the rings wouldn’t catch on anything. Hidden beneath, the bells on the ends of their dangling chains chimed mutely when they and their weights bounced against my legs with each pace, coming annoyingly between my knees and thighs.

I could also feel the swaying, mutely rattling links of my ankle reminder chains against my thighs and shuddered with fear at going out in public equipped like this. When we descended the stairs, my house leash trailed from the back of my collar, tugging continually at my throat and reminding me of my status as a slave girl and that there was to be no escape.