Bondage a la Carte

Chapter Five-2

“What’s next?”

“Nothing until midnight when they’ll add the full body cage and weights to the n****e clamps.”

“I want to stay here for that,” Brenner said with more enthusiasm than he had shown all day. He had been anxious from the start to see the girl encased in the diabolical body cage currently resting against the nearby wall. A technologically enhanced clone of similar devices first created in the middle ages, this one had been designed and fabricated expressly for Yvette, the girl in the leather sheaths, who now hung motionless in the white room.

“Then you should stick around for the plug activation too,” Calder said with a bit of sarcasm.

“Those dongs are loaded?” Brenner asked, surprised that he had missed this feature.

“Just small, battery-powered, remote-controlled vibrators. They can be activated with a variable voltage switch on the remotes. That’s all it takes.”

“Does she know about this?”

“No. She gave us carte blanch.”

“Carte blanch?” Brenner asked. “You mean ‘a la carte’, don’t you?”

“No. Carte blanche. Check your French. It means, more or less, ‘do whatever you want’.”

“No shit.”

“No s**t,” Calder said, looking annoyed. “But to your point, she is getting a la carte as well.”

“Now I am confused.”

“Look, Phil,” Calder said, trying to be patient with his new associate. “We offer both a fixed menu or a la carte. Do you know the difference?”

“In a restaurant, yes. I assume the same is true here.”

“Yes. It is, except that Yvette can have anything she wants. In this case, we’re taking single items from the menu and adding them as we see fit.”

“Such as?”

I wonder if I gave them too much freedom on this. They can keep me here for months if they want. The whole thing was open-ended. I pay for the “process” and they make their real money from the internet and videos. Now I’m not so sure. Forever? Forever? Is that what I signed up for? Oh Christ, I hope not. One too many glasses of good champagne and I’ll sign anything if I think it’ll be fun and bring on more orgasms. s**t. I may be in over my head.

“The n****e-piercing clamps. The vibrators. Maybe something else along the way. Depends on how this goes. She pays the price and never bitches. I suspect that right now she’d like a little action in her crotch, but we’ll let her simmer for a few hours. Just about the time she starts getting antsy and cramped, the vibes will kick in. Improves the circulation, you know.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean, ‘else’?”

“Are we going to do more to her? She must have some limits.”

“No limits that I know of. It all depends. The longer you are here, the more you will understand. We watch and listen. The monitors tell us a lot about where she’s at and where she’s going,” Calder said, nodding to the control station staffed by three of his crew. “Steffie is our on-duty EMT. She watches for anything that might require immediate medical response. Bart and Greg back her up. No one ever leaves this post unattended and they relieve each other hourly. We watch respiration, pulse, blood pressure, oral and rectal temperatures, sounds, movement and a few other esoteric medical indicators that won’t mean much to you, but tell us how she’s doing.”

“So she’s really not alone, even though it seems that way?”

“Right.”

“If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll stay the night and observe.”

“Suit yourself. I’m done for the day,” Calder said as he put on his overcoat and headed for the exit.

“Must be nice, huh?” Brenner said, dropping into a deep leather armchair from which he could watch all of the monitors.

“What? Having a p***y that liquefies on command?” Calder asked, almost sneering.

“No. Having the kind of money that lets you do anything you feel like,” Brenner said.

“Yeah. Money buys anything, even a few days bound, hooded, plugged and gagged. Pity she didn’t ask to be whipped,” Calder observed, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor.

“Patience, my friend. Patience.”

II – The Glimmer of an Idea

Toronto, Canada

Thomas Greg studied the advertisement in The Toronto Herald for the third time, wondering if it could possibly be what he’d been searching for over the past decade.

100% LEGAL & SAFE ENTERTAINMENT

FOR UP-SCALE ADULTS ONLY

“If you have to ask what it costs, or what it is all about, it’s not for you.”

Highly specialized, personal b**m services for those who know what they want but have yet to find the provider and accessories they seek.

We are as close as your banker or as far away as your private jet will take you.

Only when price and related elements are of no concern.

Europe, Asia and

The Americas.

Phone inquiries only.

In USA, 1.800.555.1212.

“This could be a sucker bait ad like so many others,” he thought.

Yet, it could also be the very thing he’d been searching for. From the time he’d made the big jump in his career to his current position as the number two man in the giant financial organization, his most pressing personal concern was finding some way to carry out his desires for physical domination of women.

The really tormenting part was that he was surrounded by women. Old women, young women; beautiful, pretty, ugly, straight and gay, but he learned years ago that to, as his boss often said, “dip your pen into the company inkwell” would bring nothing but trouble. So, as he climbed the corporate ladder, he avoided any personal entanglements in the firm, at home and when traveling. It wasn’t easy. Almost daily some gorgeous piece of feminine artistry was dangled before his eyes and his c**k always responded while his mind said, “No. Not here. Not now. Not this one.”

This kind of restrictive, almost priest-like curriculum led to a solitary life for him and resulted in his use of the internet and other anonymous methods of relieving this constant itch for s****l relief. Whores and hustlers were always only a phone call away and more than one of his closest buddies had offered tantalizing experiments in anonymous s*x with females who were respected and patronized for their silence and superb services.

The ad provided a hopeful promise of a solution, the glimmer of possibility.

It was an uncommon advertisement. It seemed aimed directly at him, much like the occasional personalized letters that he got from exotic automobile dealers who knew his proclivity for unique cars. Most of those he recognized by the envelope, but he usually opened them anyway, fascinated with the degree of detail, the apparent knowledge about him that the sellers of the cars seemed to have.

Dear Mr. Greg,

I won’t beat around the bush. I know you are a connoisseur of fine automobiles and I want to offer you a vehicle that is one of only five ever produced. Four of these superb automobiles are owned by Chinese or Mid East aficionados, but his one, production number 2, is now available to you at a surprisingly low cost.

He knew the pitch. He understood that while the offers were usually quite real, the complexities and associated costs seldom justified the transaction. Besides, his garage, unlike his bed, was full.

Certainly, there was something different here. Something that implied a certain legitimacy. Thomas saw the ad again in several on-line web sites and in a few, highly specialized magazines and newspapers, some of which he subscribed to. He was especially impressed by the openness of the ad and noted that it ran often in his favorite high end automobile and yacht mags. Any magazine that featured articles and ads for Ferrari, Bugatti, Broward Yachts and Gulfstream jets seemed likely to be on the up and up, he thought. He made the call from one of his anonymous, private cells.

It wasn’t easy. He had to be persistent. The company that ran the ad had set up several security gates and filters along the way to sort out the crazies, the unfit, the undesirable. Anyone calling the ad’s number was first routed to an automated answering service that promised an immediate call-back and traced the caller’s number.

A live FAQ program then quickly sorted out the phonies and tire kickers by asking for the caller’s private banker’s contact number and assuring him that no charges would be made until their authenticity was verified. Of course, many truly curious people were put off by the remoteness and seemingly questionable topic of the ad and answering service, but those who knew what they wanted and could afford to do their own tracking, were soon in contact with a very businesslike woman who answered all questions. She, in turn, queried the callers about their interests. She stressed that the firm did not, under any circumstances, deal in any illegal activities, tolerated neither smoking nor drugs and, if the credentials of the caller were found to be acceptable, she would help arrange for an initial deposit of one hundred thousand Euros, or the local currency equivalent, prior to proceeding.

That aspect quickly separated the pretenders from the real McCoy. Likewise, once their nearly instant records search revealed his multiple homes in Oslo, Palm Beach, Majorca, Bermuda and Seoul, the rest of the checking was routine. They discovered that he had automobiles registered in several provinces and states, three yachts of acceptable size for ocean transits, and, although he didn’t actually own a jet, he held shares with three different charter services that would and could take him anywhere with 30 minutes notice. He used Netjets the way most people used Netflix.

Nevertheless, several law enforcement agencies, thinking that they had discovered some sophisticated scam, a call girl network or worse, attempted to probe the firm’s program and found that in every case, their sleuthing was a waste of time. The company appeared not only to be legal and reputable, but also had impeccable references.

“For that kind of money, what do I get?” was Greg’s first question.

“What do you want?” was the woman’s polite answer.

“Candidly, I want to be able to meet someone who fits my criteria for great looks, has a reasonably intelligent and sober mind and who is interested in being bound, possibly whipped, spanked or caned and having consensual s*x with me,” Greg replied.

“You want a s*x slave without any encumbrances.”

“Exactly.”

“Anything else?”

“I am a dominant person. She or they must be willing and able to handle that.”

“Anything else?”

“I want my fantasy of complete control over women to be fulfilled without any repercussions. What some people would consider abuse I want to be acceptable and rewarding for all parties,” he added, knowing well that each of these requirements could be disqualifying, no matter what the price.

“This is possible, within certain boundaries,” he was told, courteously, but firmly.

“What boundaries?”

“Essentially, we permit nearly anything that is mutually agreeable to both parties. Our subs do, however, generally, have limits and you must respect them in detail. Our staff will help you, but if the rules of engagement for that day or that time are violated, the program will end, you will be escorted back to your point of origin and your deposits forfeited. I will send you a confidential link outlining the full terms of service.”

“What, for example, might be forbidden?” Greg pressed. He was most interested in knowing up front if he could bind, chain, strap, whip and f**k a beautiful woman without fear of her suing him, going to the media or calling the cops, no matter what she initially agreed to.

“Mister Greg, you are an intelligent man with a specific need. We respect those needs, but we also require that you respect those of our subs. Let me give one example: in a specific case, you may have carte blanche to tie, with rope, leather, wire or chains, one or more subs. You may have intercourse with them in all body orifices; you may whip or spank them, gag or blindfold them. You may keep them in your rooms or other enclosures. What you cannot do is harm them in any way. You cannot, for example, starve them, refuse them access to water or toilets at reasonable intervals or damage them in such a way that they would have long-term physical or mental scars. These are general guidelines and may change with each sub you engage.”

“Okay. How do I proceed?” Greg asked anxiously.

“Once again, sir, we are completely at your disposal, but we must have additional specifics. Then I can tell you more about our services. All of this may sound strange, but we must protect our reputation as well as yours, Mr. Greg.”

“Well, tell me where you are, then.”

“That really isn’t important. We could be in Antarctica or Boston, but it makes no difference, does it?”