Gagged

Opening Gambit-2

The last time she arrived at my temporary home, she muttered something about needing “therapy” before vanishing down the cellar stairs. b**m Therapy by Tanya was a fetishist’s dream. Unannounced and uninvited, she showed up with a leather carry-on pack containing enough bondage equipment and assorted toys to keep even the most dedicated top or bottom occupied for weeks. She walked into my quarters , waved briefly to me and instinctively located the cellar door, then vanished into the depths under the decrepit house without a single word. What followed was thirty hours of some of the most robust s****l activity I had had in months, with Tanya playing any role that entered her fertile, but devious mind and me trying to keep up.

The ceiling beams in the cellar were tested and handily used for suspension of her latex-clad body and once she had suitably arranged herself so that her cuffed ankles were wide spread and attached to the beams overhead, she finished off with a ring gag, blindfold, posture collar and wrists cuffed behind her. Swinging slightly in upside-down suspension, she called me, making odd noises through the ring gag, to come down and join her and then turned out the single light she had rigged up in the cool, damp, below ground room.

“What would you like for openers?” I asked after descending the creaking stairs and turning on a small torch I brought with me.

“Nungh gore ick ninwho me,” she gurgled through the ring that held her jaws wide and the strap that kept her cheeks drawn back.

“Huh?” I stupidly asked, slowly unzipping my trousers and revealing to no one but blindfolded Tanya and myself the arising of none other than Mister Flagrant c**k who was already drooling in anticipation. (Yes, I know she was blindfolded, but she knew what I was doing).

“Ouoooz it,” she repeated.

I obliged.

Tanya tongued and slurped and sucked and it was a genuine quickie as she swung happily from the rafters and I came in about fifteen seconds. She swallowed and muttered in a frog voice that I should get rid of my clothes and avail myself of something more than a fast blow job.

To enhance the scene, I slowly lowered her until her widely spread, bare feet touched the dirt floor and reversed the position so that her cuffed hands were pulled upwards behind her, forcing her to bend forward slightly at the waist. Another rope went from the back of her collar to her hands and then more rope went around her upper torso, three bands around her chest below those fabulous t**s and three more above them. I slowly tightened the twin rope bands, squeezing the blossoming boob mounds until they stuck out even more than they normally did, tied off the loops and took the rope end down to her elbows, forcing them together while she happily howled through the ring gag. For less noise, I inserted an inflatable rubber plug that may have once been intended as a drain stopper into the ring gag and then pumped it up a bit to make sure the aperture was sealed shut. Despite her best efforts, Tanya was no longer capable making any intelligent sounds, so she reverted to one of her most effective means of communication, wagging her t**s. It may not sound like much, but speaking from extensive experience and closer than safe exposure to several episodes of Tanya’s tit wagging, I can write that despite what it lacks in clarity this body exercise is just as effective today when practiced by Tanya as is was and is effective for any experienced striper seeking to make a lasting impression on her audience. But, at least I had the welcome silence of the cellar in which to contemplate the twin waving mammalies swinging in the dim light. I had no idea what she wanted, but the easy thing to do when in doubt is enhance the effect, so I slowly attached a pair of steel clamps to those vibrant nips and the noise from behind the sealed mouth gag increased in intensity as I closed the clamps. Whether it was from the shock of having her twin headlights suddenly squeezed as one might do when trying to pinch a tick off a dog’s head, I didn’t know, but the noise stopped.

Silence.

Ah, peace at last. Eventually, while I availed myself of her lovely ass, Tanya hummed and gurgled and buzzed, but the mouth plug held and I went about my usual chores of attempting to appease this wiggling little blond.

By the end of the afternoon, we had explored several variations of Tanya Tied & Plugged and me as the operative Boss of the Torment Cellar. I was exhausted. Tanya begged for more by making obscene hip movements while still well secured to the overhead beams or the supporting posts throughout the cellar. Eventually, I released her and went upstairs for two cold beers. She is something else.

Once free, she dug into her leather satchel and produced several items featuring steel cuffs and chains and proceeded to lock cuffs on her wrists, biceps, ankles, thighs and waist, substituting the original leather collar with a heavy, thick, steel one that had the same invisible locking mechanism as the other cuffs. Purely for information, I quietly asked her where the keys to this ensemble might be and if there even were any. Tanya, with her usual nonchalant, wicked demeanor, shrugged and said nothing.

Next, she dug out a nasty, beautifully finished, metal brank with some creative accessories and lifted it over her head. Several apparently useful items hung from hinges on the device. At the sides were what looked like combination ear muffs and ear buds. At the top front were twin padded circlets obviously intended to close over the eyes and at the lower front was an unpleasant-looking metal plug that included, as she pointedly demonstrated a moment later, a clip that immobilized the tongue. It was the same sort of spring metal clip that still resided on each n****e, so I had to assume that she found that sort of torment agreeable enough to immobilize her tongue as well. The rest of the oral probe looked like a common expanding mouth pear/flower that I had seen before, copied from some ancient expanding gags that dated back to the metal age of Egypt and were initially intended to fit in other body apertures as well. Tanya told me to watch carefully because she wouldn’t be talking anymore and lowered the contraption down so that the four short posts extending from the base of the brank disappeared into matching holes in the collar and snapped into place. She flipped the ear muffs closed, taking time to make sure that the accompanying buds were snugly burrowing into her ear canals and they too snapped shut. Her last instructions to me were a bit chilling:

“There are some magnetic keys somewhere in the pack, but let me spend the night here. Asshole Hubby is off in Mozambique for the week, so I would like to stay here as your cellar f**k toy for awhile. Tell the girls that they should feel free to engage as well if they want to, but they’ll have to bring their own strap-on because I forgot mine. OK?”

With that, Tanya stuck out her tongue, gingerly fitted the clamp on the expander mouth probe around the small bar bell in her tongue and inserted the entire shiny thing into her oral cavity. Once it was in, she pushed it further until it locked with a distinct and final click and she hummed with apparent glee and motioned for me to do her chains.

There was nothing I could do but lock her wrists together behind her and connect the elbow cuffs. She moaned approval as her arms came together. I fastened a single padlock to the thigh bands and did the same with her cuffed ankles. In the darkness, I could not find any suitable rings on the walls, so I wrapped the trailing chains from wrists, collar and ankles around one of the sturdy old posts holding up the rafters and made her kneel on the dirt floor while I used another length of chain to snugly connect collar, waist and ankles. Clearly, Tanya wasn’t going anywhere, but this multiple chain security was bound to please her. If I knew her at all, she would survive a twelve or fifteen hour session there without any duress and be ready for more in the mid-morning because she was capable of and comfortable while sleeping deeply while similarly bound. Nevertheless, I did worry about the cuffs and chains keeping her arms in such a strained position for so long, but while looking at her kneeling there in utter erotic rapture, I recalled that Tanya had endured more stringent situations under the control of other tops than me.

Putting my mouth next to her iron-bound head, I asked: “Have I forgotten anything?”

The eye patches were still open on the brank, so I looked carefully at her and she winked and mumbled something incomprehensible through the mouth plug.

“Ah,’’ I said. “You want the mouth thing expanded a bit?”

She nodded with enthusiasm.

“Ok, I will do this, but do not allow it to go too far. I am not going to stay here while you get off, so take a bit of it now and perhaps I’ll tighten it up later. Okay?”

Tanya groaned and nodded. Her body language declaring that I wasn’t playing the game right. She wanted to be stretched and gagged and chained tight as she always did whether she was doing it herself or had someone else willing to accommodate her needs and desires. Having me as the safety observer was just a bonus.

So I closed the eye patches, noting that they too had magnetic locks. I checked the rest of the ensemble, tapped her on her brank-sealed head and left the cellar, forgetting to expand the mouth plug, but realizing later that it was just as well that I hadn’t. Tanya was resilient, but enough was enough. I knew that what she really wanted was to be caned thoroughly and then be mercilessly f****d, but my role as Top was to be as sadistic as she could safely tolerate. In this case, not flogging or f*****g her seemed appropriate torture. She would suffer more without than with.

So the smaller barn was quickly repaired and the main house gutted and slowly rebuilt on a long term plan while I lived in the barn, but Tanya wasn’t my only visitor.

Jan Jones, the young and attractive county Assistant Deputy Provincial Agricultural Agent, (ADPAA), who was my guide in dealing with the massive bureaucracy that governed mostly by confusing and fear of additional taxes, didn’t care what I did with the property as long as my intent was to put Euros in her purse for aiding in land reclamation for something other than multiple dwellings or industry. We got along fine. She liked my plans and I liked her lovely, tight, heart-shaped ass. She also filled out ninety percent of the crazy forms.

I soon discovered that my intentions must have been somewhat transparent, for her interest in what I was doing on the land soon transcended professional curiosity. She came out every week or so to monitor my progress, checking off boxes on her stash of interminable forms, but seemed most interested in my work in converting the small barn into a full time residence. She even suggested and arranged for very fair-priced construction help which turned out to be almost entirely female. I was busy with too many things, but I couldn’t help but notice that Jan was very nicely put together with long, dark brown hair, a great upper rack with twin globular breasts, tiny waist, excellent ass and long legs. Her face reminded me of someone between Angeline and Bardot with the pouting lips, high cheek bones and penetrating eyes. How could I not notice? Oh yes, and there was one more attribute that I found noteworthy: no tattoos. I once asked her why she didn’t have any and she looked at me as though she was mentally calculating what impact her honest answer might have on our future relationship.