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AFTERLIFE
I had purportedly died in the early hours of the following day. I first learned of this when my master entered the cell late that evening to prepare me for the night, bringing with him the evening paper. My fatal accident merited but a short notice in the local news, under the heading Miscellaneous, squeezed in between an article discussing the revised garbage collection schedule and the latest tidbits from some obscure celebrity’s love life. Despite myself and the plans we had made I was a little aggrieved at having passed away without making a bigger splash. ”Where is the anguished public outcry? Where are the mourning masses?” Even my husband looked remarkably composed, if a little strained.
“How did it go?” I asked him brightly to cover my disappointment and the mounting disquiet I felt as the reality of the utter annihilation of the last tenuous links to my former free life outside of this cell slowly sank in.
He sighed wearily. “Everything went according to plan, although it’s been a grueling day. To identify what little was left of poor Anne as your remains was a lot more unsettling than I imagined it would be. I think I realized just then how easily something like this could have happened to you in reality.” He shrugged. “Of course that only made my appearance more convincing and I received a lot of sympathy and deeply sincere condolences. There’ll be an investigation into probable causes of the accident, but George assures me no sign of tampering will be detectable. As for the autopsy, I can guarantee it will turn up nothing unexpected.”
“So I’m officially dead now. That’ll take some getting used to! It’s really the weirdest of feelings.” Sometimes I managed to imitate my master’s knack for understatement quite convincingly.
He gave me a lopsided grin. “After all the hassle of the last days, I feel we both desperately need to relieve some strain. I’m sure that’ll also help you settle in a little faster. I’d love to try out a perversion I read about recently in a psychiatric journal. How about you? Are you up to a little necrophilia?”
With a happy cry I melted into his waiting arms, straining to achieve full body contact despite the unwelcome resistance my breast cups offered to any such endeavor. Nevertheless, the long-missed snuggling up against his lean body proved most satisfying and smiling invitingly, if a little smugly, I offered my trembling lips to his. After endless minutes of hungry and passionate kissing with my steel endowed tongue meeting his in an intricate dance of exploration, he reluctantly disengaged, only to grab the thin but sturdy chain attached to my nose shackle and lead me to the sunken sleeping platform. It was high time to fasten me to my rubber bed for the eagerly anticipated upcoming delights, but first I had to wait for him to free me from the uncommonly long chains that had held me prisoner all day.
When my master finally returned the previous night to release me from the rowing machine, I had spent endless hours working out under the supervision of an uncaring computer. It had been single-mindedly concerned with eliciting certain target performance levels through the judicious application of electric shocks to my most sensitive parts, and so apparently in an act of mercy he chose not to chain me to my bed as usual. Instead he had opted for the generous set of restraints I currently wore, complemented as always by the heavy chain leash connecting the back ring of my collar to its anchor point at the head of my bed. I had to endure it or something offering the same level of security constantly. I had suspected even then that things were coming to a head, but as explanation for his largesse, he volunteered only that he presumably would be too busy to pay me the customary morning visit to free me from my bed. Although my disquieting suspicions had obviously been well-founded, for the moment my mind was occupied with things far more palatable and engaging.
After a few moments my limbs were freed from their chains but I knew this happy state of affairs was not meant to last. Following the nightly routine and for once accepting its inevitability without protest, I twisted my arms around and brought them up high between my shoulder blades, a normally difficult maneuver eased by long practice. With a small lock my master joined the inner rings of my wrist cuffs to the length of chain dangling from the collar’s back ring specifically for this purpose.
“Lay down, slave!”
I sank obediently to my knees beside the sleeping platform and shifted my bottom onto the shiny black surface, then wiggled to its center. Stretching out my legs for balance, I used my well-developed abdominal muscles to lower myself onto the molded rubber mattress. I slowly reclined until my folded-up arms were swallowed by the recess provided for them and my bald head came to rest on the pillow. A formed depression bisected by a shallow groove was waiting to accommodate it and my leash. By applying a light tension my husband had kept the heavy chain aligned with the groove and now quickly locked its shortened length to the anchor point so I couldn’t sit up anymore. Quickly moving to the foot of the platform he grabbed my left ankle and stretched my leg off to the side where he fastened it to a waiting chain, also attaching my toe cuffs to its taut links, thus pulling my foot out to a fully restrained, ‘en pointe’ configuration, then he proceeded to do the same to my right leg.
His eyes roamed appreciatively over my helplessly spread-eagled body while he slowly pulled the chain around his neck from within his shirt and took the magnetic key to the few, but well chosen removable parts of my harness out. I gasped involuntarily when the object of countless frustrated fantasies entered my sight and my eyes minutely tracked its progress on its way to its rendezvous with the integrated lock of my chastity belt. Another shudder raked my body when the locking pins of the crotch shield were released from their fastenings within the waist chinch, a wide gap immediately springing open that at long last relieved the constant pressure on my private parts, for the first time in more than a month. The key had to be used a second time on the crotch piece itself to unlock the bolts engaging the grommets embedded deep in the flesh of my labia, before my master was able to pull the shield away from my body, exposing my crotch and the retreating invaders.
“If only Pavlov had seen this!” my husbands chuckled indicating the larger phallus, glistening with a thick coating of my juices. Bad sportsmanship on his part, since I was panting to hard to think of a clever retort to this taunt.
Thankfully my master dropped the subject and focused his attention on my upper body instead. There, he had to use his magic key again to unlock the breast cups from the supporting harness and to release the tensioned pins forced through the curving metal tunnels ran horizontally through the bases of my nipples. As was his habit of late, he softly blew on the revealed twin mounds of firm, stretched flesh and with unflagging fascination observed the reaction this provoked. Obviously, there was something deeply engrossing for him in my involuntary gasps, violent jerking, and the goose bumps springing up all over my body.
His cool voice held a hint of ironic regret when he finally spoke. “You know, there are moments - instants only - when I’d give everything to trade places with you.”
“Uh-huh.” I could only utter a non-committal gasp in response to this surprising revelation. There are moments - but instants only - when I would not be willing to trade.
The next hour was spent with intense love making, fit to celebrate my strictly private resurrection from the dead. He started by playing with my breasts, stroking, pinching, pulling and squeezing my pierced nipples until my nerves tingled in time with his deft manipulations, alternately stimulating the pleasure and pain centers in my brain so that the varying sensations became indistinguishable, indiscriminately feeding the raging fire of my arousal. Then he concentrated on my nether regions, applying the same devious tactics to my genitals, always careful to limit his rubbing, pinching and stretching to an extend that kept me on the brink, without actually allowing me to cross the line to a premature release from the unbearable tension. He continued his cruel game until every fiber of my mind and body was stretched to the breaking point and my nerves vibrated from the stress, so that when he finally entered me, his mouth and hands simultaneously pulling and twisting the steel shackles through my nipples and clitoris, I came and came and came, my conscious mind evaporating in an orgasmic overload.
For an indeterminable time afterwards we lay silently in spent abandon next to each other, his arm and leg comfortably draped over my stretched-out, still trembling body.
“I suppose I must have gone to heaven, after all.” I sighed contentedly, still luxuriating in the afterglow of multiple orgasms, struggling fitfully against my chains.
He stirred reluctantly. “Then I suppose it’s time to get you back to earth. Or this other place temptresses like you so rightfully belong.”
Sensing his momentary willingness to be swayed, I pressed my advantage. It’s possible to strike a sultry pose even while stringently bound, if you had some practice and an appreciative audience. “Won’t you join me there? When we were married, you promised to follow me everywhere I go.” Watching for his reaction from lowered lids I added in a husky voice “I’ll make it worth your while.”
He grinned wryly. “There’s no rest for the wicked.”
***
Considerably later when the waves of pleasure suffusing my body began to slowly ebb away, I opened my eyes again and found my husband sitting beside me, his chin resting on the arms he had folded above his knees and observing me with the abstracted air of someone not having been invited to a splendid party but trying hard not to mind it. When he saw me emerging from my private universe he smiled and crouched down to kiss me on the brow before he determinedly got up and began collecting then putting on the clothes he had strewn around my bed. I followed his motions with my eyes only, languishing in complete relaxation. Shrugging on his shirt apparently inconvenienced the darkening bite marks that showed on his left shoulder, causing him to wince and throw me a reproachful look.
“My, what sharp little teeth you have!”
“The better to bite you with.” I replied lazily.
“And I thought I got to play the big bad wolf. I’ll better fit you with a muzzle then.”
I was shaken out of my complacency when I saw him retrieving the hated feeding gag.
“Oh no! Please master, I don’t want to wear this horrid thing! Not after tonight! Please!”
He hesitated and searched my face. “Do you promise to be a good slave and spare me your usual theatrics and verbal abuse when I fasten your breast cups and the chastity shield again?”
I bit my lip but the threat of the rubber and steel contraption dangling from his hand demanded unconditional surrender. “Yes, yes, I promise! I’ll be good!”
“Alright.” He laid the gag aside and picked up the chastity shield instead. “Try to relax!”
”Some advice!” Nevertheless, glad to have retained the treasured privilege of speech, although not the right to exercise it indiscriminately, I closed my eyes and focused my attention on something simple and harmless. ”What would the world look like if lying caused physical pain? Would politicians routinely be tested for pain killers like athletes for doping? Would therefore masochists ascend to power and become the new ruling class? Maybe I could take advantage of my high pain tolerance and pursue a career in marketing or public relations?” My train of thought came to a screeching halt when the advance elements of the twin invading forces started their two pronged assault on the nether provinces of my body. As my rash promise limited my resistance to ineffectual grunting through clenched teeth, the territory the invaders had withdrawn from only hours before was quickly recaptured and after some judicious maneuvering by the enemy warlord, I was once more beset by two implacable occupying forces. A series of reverberating clicks irrevocably secured their conquest and a few moments later the war was lost for good when a swift mopping up action spelled the end of my breast’s short period of freedom and prosperity. Utterly defeated I deliberately unclenched my teeth and tried to get used to the unpleasant sensations of my intimate hardware again.
“OK, it’s time for your muzzle.”
My eyes popped open in protest. “But you promised not to gag me! I’ve been good! Please!”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Where do you get these absurd notions? I never promised a thing; the gagging was merely postponed. Now be quiet and behave! You were very brave earlier; don’t disappoint me now!”
“You…” I noticed the steel glint in his eyes and closed my mouth with a snap. Judging from his sardonic expression I concluded that irate protests would not serve my purpose and so decided to take a different route. With some difficulty I curbed my temper and meekly played along with his requests, although I registered with grim satisfaction that blood had begun to stain his shirt at the shoulder.
To fit me with the gag he had to release my leash temporarily from the bed anchor point (but not my collar - I was always tethered in some manner) and help me up to a sitting position. When the gag’s slick feeding tube touched my artfully trembling lips I sighed deeply but opened my mouth resignedly to accept it, though not without looking up to my husband with a tearful, heartrending, high-intensity pleading look. The intolerable way he cheerfully ignored my fine display of angelic suffering made me seethe but regrettably he cut short my foreseeable temper tantrum by the simple expedient of grabbing my nose leash and pulling hard, bringing real tears to my eyes. So a few minutes later my cheeks were once more stretched to the limit around the massive gag pad and simultaneously compressed by the tight straps encircling my head.
“See? Done already! Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Nnnrrgh!” My angry objections were reduced to pitiful howls. Unlike me, my master apparently considered this a highly satisfying outcome and listened with a display of appreciative delight.
“Yes, that’s much better! Amazing! You sound almost civil now.” His chuckle was interrupted by a mighty yawn. “Guess it’s time to call it a day. Lay back so I can re-fasten your leash. Very good! That’s my girl.” He patted my bald head condescendingly before he moved on to my feet.
“Hold still while I free your legs; yes, flex them a little if you like. OK, that’s enough! Now be a good girl and bring them together so I can join your ankle cuffs. Good! Very nice. OK, I just have to connect the toes and the tensioner chain. So! There, that’s it, You’re settled for the night.”
Loath to entertain my husband with futile attempts to resist I remained impassive throughout his practiced manipulations of my restraints. I was not yet ready to admit to another defeat in our constant contest of wills, so when he at last had chained me down to his satisfaction and tried to capture my eyes, I averted my gaze indignantly. Undaunted, he crouched down beside my stretched out form once more and began to gently fondle the accessible parts of my body, all the while whispering “I love you” repeatedly into my ear. Always a great believer in expediency, he would reach for the lowest means to achieve his ends. Even though I was well aware of this, I still couldn’t help myself. After a while I relented enough to glance up to him. A mistake, since my master’s steady eyes instantly captured my own, compelling me to give up all subterfuge and wordlessly confirm my loving submission to his will. A knowing smile played over his lips as he nodded his understanding and acceptance. He got up and swept me a gallant bow.
“It’s been a most pleasurable evening, milady. I bid you good night.”
He winked at me and headed for my cell’s massive door, only to pause when he reached it. “By the way, I’ve promised Maren to let her visit you tomorrow. Sleep tight, honey!”
With a low rumble the massive door closed behind him and I was left alone in my cell for the night, to uneasily contemplate Maren’s impending visit, and hopefully, dream of the joyful events of this past, most memorable day. When the door's massive bolts had slid fully into their steel recesses in the door frame, the lights of the cell gradually faded to black, leaving me entombed in soundless, depthless darkness, uncannily befitting my new situation of being recently deceased.
I shivered against the chains keeping me flat and virtually motionless, surging as much as I could against their tensioned lengths, but only subtle clicks of their links rubbing against each other broke the encompassing silence. These, and the small moans that hissed from my impaled nose, were swallowed up immediately, returning me to the full awareness of just how vast and uncompromising my slavery had become. I had no choice but to sleep, and soon was taken into the arms of Morpheus on my journey to yet another day as a slave wife.