Having It All

Chapter One-3

“Cold out there,” the man said, nodding at Ellen and raising his coffee cup to her.

“s**t, Max, you scared the hell out of me. When did you come in?”

“Just five minutes ago. Was checking the lines and was freezing, even with this L.L. Bean Arctic Parka.” He laughed, knowing the jokes about how real country folk considered Bean as their high end fashion supplier and Carhartt as the source for true work clothes.

“Yeah, it’s even a bit chilly in the cellar. Cold enough to pop the n*****s out of a witch….or something like that,” grinned Ellen. “I just got a ring from the storeroom, so I’m headed down there. Frank’s got some gripe, I suppose.”

“Need a hand?”

“I hope not. See you in a bit,” Ellen said as she opened the cupboard door. There were shelves with food cans and packages, cooking utensils, some pots and pans and other household things. Ellen picked up a sauté pan, moved it to a lower shelf and then removed a can of tomato soup and put it in the pan. There was a faint click and the entire panel with shelves and contents swung inward, revealing a small room that had more shelves full of dry goods and supplies. She stepped into the room, closed the cupboard panel behind her and reached for what looked like a knot hole in the pine paneling. This hole turned out to be a release for another panel in the side wall of the small room. Now she turned on a light and went quickly down the flight of circular stairs to the bottom where she was in what was clearly a wine cellar. Hundreds of bottles of wine filled the bins. Each bin was marked and dated and identified the contents. Ellen went to the bin marked “Boxbottle, Franken.” This label was a private joke between Ellen, Frank and Don Andrews, a long time friend who often visited the camp and always brought great wines. Don was known for his German wine preferences and he had introduced E&F to the Franken wines from Germany’s Franconia region, which was sold in flask-shaped bottles, known as Bocksbeutel. Don had jokingly told them to spell it “boxbottle” and the esoteric pun had stick. Don also thought it was funny that it was a Franconia wine and often talked about Frank’s wines, meaning the Franken, of course.

When Ellen reached under the Franken bin, a set of shelves in the German wines section opened and she stepped through into a totally dark, large underground room. She closed the panel behind her, heard the lock click and stood in the dark.

“Well, my love, how goes it?” Ellen asked into the dark of the cool, earthy smelling room. In response, she heard a rustle that sounded like a rat moving in a clothes closet, a clink and a thud that sounded like someone thumping a leather covered cushion with a baseball bat, followed by a groan.

“Oh, really,” Ellen said, sarcastically, hitting a light switch on the wall and waiting until the overhead fluorescents came on. The blue/green glow brightened the room. “I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight, Dear. Something bothering you, Sweetie?”

The cool, greenish light revealed what appeared to be a man’s body, suspended upside-down from a heavy steel tripod frame, totally encased and strapped into a rubber body bag with only his hooded head sticking out of the neck hole. The hood was sealed and only two breathing hoses penetrated the heavy black leather shell that encased the head.

“Feeling needy?” Ellen asked, walking slowly over to the hanging bag that was encircled with at least a dozen wide straps tightly fitted at the usual locations; around the head, over the eyes and mouth, around neck, waist, upper torso in three places, above and below the knees, mid thigh, mid calf, ankles and under the feet, to further confine and restrain the body contained inside the bag. What made the s*x of the bag’s occupant apparent was the jutting projection from the crotch area, indicating a major erection inside a rubber sleeve built into the bag. Above the straining erection was a small pouch, about the size of a small light bulb, which apparently enclosed the occupant’s testicles sealed in the snug bondage of the pouch attached to the body bag. Ellen casually stroked the giant, rubber enclosed d**k as she walked around the suspended body. She considered putting the rubber covered object in her mouth and the results that action might have, but then changed her mind when she saw the large pool of liquid that had accumulated on the polished hardwood floor below the leather hood. This pool was being fed by a slow, but constant drip of sweat and perhaps other body fluids trickling down from inside the bag, through and around the hood and out onto the floor.

“My goodness, Frank. Are you cumming, leaking, drooling or just sweating up a storm in there tonight? Busy little upside-down fella, aren’t we? Feeling a little compressed, dear?” The hooded head shook and then turned side to side, in a negative response.

“Want out?” Ellen asked casually, knowing that if he said yes, she was obliged to cut him down, open the bag, remove the straps and hood, and then deal with the interior rope work that they had jointly orchestrated a few hours before.

The head turned side to side again. No.

“Want anything?”

The head nodded.

“Humm,” pondered Ellen, sitting down on the cool hardwood floor. “What could the matter be?”

The head shook again and from inside came a sort of hum or moan. It was hard to tell which, because the hood was lined with a sound reducing soft material and the mouth in the head inside it was securely gagged.

“Well, Dear. I just don’t know what I can do for you and I’m really pretty busy right now with our new addition, you know.”

The head shook and there was another groan from inside the hood.

“How about if I get you down and turn you around so your head is up and your ass is down? Would that help, Honey?”

An emphatic nod and moan convinced Ellen that this was the thing that the thing in the bag wanted.

“Okay,” she said gaily, and got up, reached over, stretching on her toes and bending over so that her compact, tight little ass was nicely displayed to anyone who might have been behind her. She released a catch at the top of the tripod and the body bag and contents dropped to the floor with a thud and a responding groan from inside the hood.

“Oops. Sorry, Dear. Didn’t mean to drop you so hard. But, it was the fastest way to get you down. Now, we’ll just reverse things a bit,” Ellen said, again with a bit of laughter in her voice. She took two chains from the floor and attached one to the leather harness straps that enclosed the body and another to the top of the hood. She linked the chains together and then hooked them to the ratchet lift at the top of the tripod. She turned the crank on the ratchet hoist slowly while the suspended body rose from the floor and soon was hanging with the head up, but in the same position as before.

“How’s that?”

A nod and a hum. Then silence.

“By the way, I think we need to get Patty signed up in the next few days. She’s being difficult and I want her on the books ASAP. Do you agree?”

Frank nodded his rubberized head and gave the usual two grunts for “yes”.

“Okay. We done now? Can I get back to work?

Slight nod and double grunt.

“Good. See ya later. Have fun.” Ellen turned and headed for the door, then stopped and, facing the hanging bag and hooded head, shouted, “And don’t forget, Bag Boy, that tonight is my night, so you’ve got to be out of there by noon. Meanwhile, try not to ring the bell again unless you are about to poop in the bag.”

She turned out the light, closed and locked the heavy door and went up the stairs to the kitchen. Here she hesitated a moment as though she had forgotten something. Looking around she saw the empty coffee cup and a yellow sticky note on the counter next to it. She picked up the note and read:

“On south border for few hours. Snowmobile giving me fits. See you at dinner?” signed Max.

“Ok, Max,” Ellen said to herself, glad that their security man was on the job and keeping the vast grounds patrolled. She went into the ground floor bedroom and proceeded to strip off the leather suit.

Naked except for a thin, flesh colored nylon belt that rested tightly around her narrow waist, Ellen reached around behind her back, unfastened the belt and pulled the accompanying crotch strap slowly out from between her legs, removing with it the attached dildo from her p***y and the string of shiny metal balls from her rectum. The balls came out one by one and Ellen shuddered slightly as each ball reentered the world from its dark home in her ass. Seven balls in all came out and Ellen took the entire ensemble and placed it in the bath tub where she then ran hot water, added some liquid soap and let the tub fill with steamy water.

“Damned cheapo batteries,” she said as she stepped into the still filling tub. “Nothing works like it’s supposed to.” She reached into the water and pulled the dildo from the crotch piece, rubbed its outside shell with soap and rinsed it in the running water. Then she turned the base cap until it opened and out dropped three AA batteries.

“I gotta get one of these that lasts a hell of a lot longer,” Ellen muttered to herself as she tossed the dead vaginal probe to the side of the room and flung the useless batteries with it. “Can’t have any fun with dead batteries,” she mumbled as she submerged into the billowing foam bubbles and steaming hot water.

Below Ellen’s bathtub, in the basement, Patty revived slowly to find the gag harness around her head and the hogtie keeping her in very uncomfortable backward bowed posture on the floor. Whatever they had given her in the lemonade had worked quickly and she was having trouble controlling her stomach, which was reacting unpleasantly to the drug. She knew at once that if she threw up, she might drown in her own vomit because of the deep plug gag buried in her mouth, so she took long, deep breaths through her nose and tried to find a more comfortable position. She rolled onto her side and found that this lessened the tension between her cuffed ankles, wrists and head harness. The last minute strap that Ellen affixed to bring her limbs together was a bit loose and Patty gratefully tried to ease the pull on her strained shoulders and neck. Between the long session on the overhead chain and now this hogtie, most of her muscles in her arms and shoulders were yelling for relief.

How the hell am I going to get out of here, she thought. These people are nuttier than I thought.

All of the rumors and innuendo that she had witnessed were proving to be gross understatements. She had, of course, often contemplated the possibility that Ellen and Frank would take her prisoner and inflict their weird and erotic hobby on her, no matter what Patty’s private proclivities might be. In Patty’s mind, that possibility was a mixed fantasy and reality. She knew F&E well enough to be pretty sure that they would not, under any conditions, hurt or endanger her. What she wasn’t sure about was exactly how this would impact her and the rest of her somewhat meager existence. Should she agree to what was going on and accept the situation or should she keep on with her half-hearted complaints and objections?

I wonder if they plan to really let me go after this. Obviously, they aren’t afraid that I’ll tell the police or someone at the office.

Then another thought came to her, one that she didn’t want to contemplate: no one knew where she was. No one knew that she’d taken off with Ellen and Frank and no one was going to worry about her for at least two weeks because they thought she was in Buffalo. Well, at least if she didn’t show up at the reunion Tuesday, maybe someone up there would call her cell phone, but other than that, it was unlikely that anyone would even start looking for her for a few weeks. By then, she could be anywhere Ellen and company wanted to take her; even out of the country.