Tamara's Extreme Bondage
Part 11 (The End)
The next morning, Tamara was released from the bed and returned to the
treadmill. She again had to struggle desperately to keep up with its
ever-increasing demands; disciplined harshly by the computer if she didn't
perform as required, then in the evening, he returned her to another session of
suspension and discipline within the silo. She spent that night and the entire
next day thrashing in mad futility against her chains while her punishment
continued, rising to higher and much more intense and long term levels than
before. She was slowly being broken away from her previous life and attitudes;
but it was a difficult and painful process. Much later, he again strapped her to
the bed and allowed her to rest without any disciplining; but the day after, she
once more found herself on the treadmill. Some ten days later, Tamara had become
a total, sexually-addicted, female; but she was still unable to accustom herself
to the constant and pervasive discipline that was administered every time she
failed to perform as required. There was no release or let-up to the continual
punishments, her constant state of utterly helpless bondage, or the Discipline
Suit she was entombed within and within two weeks she had become an utter slave.
Her continuing punishments and orgasms had brought her true masochistic self
into full flower and he knew that all he was doing was accelerating the process
with the help of technology. Uncountable time later, for Tamara, he took her
from the dungeon; but only after leashing her with a light chain attached to the
Inhibitor Bar. In addition, he restricted her walking ability even more by
employing only six-inch-long chains from each ankle-cuff. Now, with every step,
until she learned to limit her paces, she would be continually reminded of her
hobbling when the dildo jerked to their tugging. This ensemble made for an
extremely efficient training mechanism. Tamara was unaware that the new
arrangement had become a permanent modification of her Uniform, as she'd begun
to think of her imprisoning Suit. And too, she'd wear all of it, except,
perhaps, the helmets; even when taken out in public from now on. Running for
her, now nearly an incomprehensibly difficult exercise was also going to have to
be done while wearing the shorter hobbles, and she soon realized with dawning
horror that she'd have to accept the constantly disconcerting wobbling of the
plug within her loins; unless she wanted to face its far more painful attentions
when she didn't maintain her pace. One day, surprisingly, he took her up the
stairs to the main floor of the house that she used to think of as a haven of
sexual adventure. She marvelled at the half-forgotten world outside the windows,
even though she could barely see it and he permitted her to walk around inside
for a couple of minutes; but kept her always tethered on her long leash. When
she moved in directions he didn't approve of, a quick jerk on it quickly brought
her to heel and although she was allowed some limited freedom for her mitted
hands; these were now connected by short wrist chains from the cuffs to the
steel belt clamped around her waist. The large enclosed back yard was bright and
sunny and she attempted to hesitate, horrified with embarrassment, when he
opened the kitchen door onto the deck. With an irresistible tug, she was dragged
out onto the wide platform and still trying desperately to resist the commanding
tension on her 'Bar leash, she was easily led down the steps then out into the
middle of the lawn. Tamara was mortified by the thought that someone might see
her in her 'Uniform' and held in such controlling bondage; but she had no choice
or say in the matter any more. She continued to try and hold back until the
effects of his jerks on her leash became unbearable, overwhelming her
resistance, then followed him submissively down the steps and across the lawn to
a heavy ring-bolt screwed deeply into the hard earth. He connected the free end
of her 'Bar Leash to it with a heavy lock, then went back inside, leaving her
fastened in the middle of the wide expanse of grass, fully visible to anyone who
happened by. She stared fearfully out from within her sealed helmet in
humiliated tears, now securely leashed to her post, then tried to follow him
back to the sanctuary of the house; but was brought up short by a sharp jerk
when the leashing chain's links snapped tight to the ring at the tip of the 'Bar
between her ankles and the deeply driven spike. He watched from the bedroom
window on the second floor while she struggled, mincing delicately around the
lawn, testing the limit of her leash; knowing that the fears she had of being
discovered were almost groundless. The neighbours had all gone for the week-end
and anyway they couldn't see into the property. With a quick touch on the
key-pad of the remote control, he turned the power to her face-plate and lenses
off, again plunging her into total darkness! Unable, now, to see how much
freedom she had on her leash, Tamara was continually brought up short by it when
the 'Bar and plug assembly exerted their authority and control of her freedom.
Two terrified hours later he brought her back inside and quickly returned her to
captivity in the secret dungeon. In minutes she was strapped to her bed,
concealed beneath the sheet, and being subjected to a fresh round of discipline
and sexual stimulation. "In two more weeks," he thought, "she'll be about done
to a turn." He'd completely remove her Discipline Suit then equip her with the
steel Punishment Chastity Belt and Bra, then she'd be re-incarcerated in her
Suit. She'd always be required to wear both plugs and the long Inhibitor Bar,
and as a consequence would have to wear the ankle- and floor-length skirts and
dresses that she so hated. That was necessary if she was to be taken out into
'polite society'; but he also had plans for her to wear shorter skirts and even
some of the old style hot pants that would reveal the Inhibitor Bar sticking
embarrassingly down between her legs, it's tip ring leash rising embarrassingly
to his controlling fist. As to piercings, he mused; she'd soon have her
permanent tongue rings and bars fitted. In addition to these, he also planned to
have a transverse rod mounted across and through the width of the muscle and
this would be able to be fastened to other portions of her facial piercings. It
would prove not only to be painful, if fought against, but constantly intrusive
and restricting. All had been arranged with the same doctor who'd done the
previous piercings, and there were the additional fittings for her nose and
lips. These would also be equipped with thicker, hardened, stainless steel U
shackles and the nose piercing and rings in particular would prove to be very
controlling and humiliating devices. In effect, the nose restraint jewellery was
a thin hardened shaft that would completely transfix her outer nostrils and
septum. These would all be pierced and grommetted, then the stainless rod would
be passed through the grommets and the eyelets of the U shackle. Once in place,
small rings would be fitted in the holes at the ends of the shaft and welded
closed, in effect making the entire assembly non-removable! Of course, once she
wore it, the potential for fastening or incorporating additional bondage or
concealments became possible. Hell! She could walk around wearing an opaque veil
or yashmak, unable to remove them; fully gagged and restrained, with no one the
wiser! In combination with her Disciplining Collar, Bra, and Chastity
Belt/Inhibitor Bar, and thanks to miniaturized electronics and the cellular
phone technology he worked with, she was totally kept always under his control.
He intended to keep her that way. Naturally, she'd be required to wear her
badges of servitude in addition to the variety of strict leather and rubber
costumes that already waited in her special closets. Naturally, they'd of course
be locked on, and she'd require two week refresher courses in the dungeon every
three months or so; but that would keep her honest. "Life is good, and getting
better and better!" he thought with a smile, watching her frantic writhings
under the thick rubber sheet. He locked the door, turned off the dungeon light,
and headed upstairs with a happy whistle, leaving Tamara alone to endure and be
moulded by the terrible and uncompromising training of her personal Discipline
Suit. Perhaps he'd enroll her in a program he'd heard about. In six months or so
she'd certainly have the physical stamina and mental attitude it took to place
her in a "Horse Woman" program he'd just learned about. That program would prove
to be the ultimate in control of her rebellious personality and he'd enjoy
seeing her dressed only in a harness and a bridle and bit, fighting her reins as
she was driven relentlessly to perform. She wasn't a stupid woman, and would
know that she was being transformed, quite literally, into a helplessly obedient
animal. What with her imprisonment within the Discipline Suit, she was already
well down that road anyway. There would be no escape for her from that program
either, and once she'd graduated from it, he thought that she would look
absolutely stunning, harnessed and rein controlled between the shafts of a
racing sulky. What more could one ask of life?
THE END
