The Box

THE BOX

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sheila studied Bandy/Allison and pursed her lips.

"So now, " she said through teeth that were almost gritted, "I am not only the proud owner of two cats, and a golden retriever I also now have my very own rubber sex slave who is, apparently, here to do my bidding!"

He looked at her askance.

"Do you know something? I could have sworn that she called ME master and said that she was available to give you pleasure if I so desired!"

Suddenly there was a nose in line with his.

"Now listen to me you fucking Muppet…."

"Sheila, Sheila calm down now!" He took her by the hand and led her over towards the once again inanimate mannequin. Although the whole room now smelt of rubber the smell still seemed to engulf them once more as they drew closer.

"Go on!" He said "Touch her! You can't hurt her and I know you want to." It could have been a bad thing to say but she did what he said and shivered as she did it.

He stood directly behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

"Are you still…?"

In a tiny voice she said

"Fucking soaked!"

Gingerly he lifted up the control box that was now hanging from Bandy/Allison's "tail".

"You want to don't you?"

She looked up at him, her eyes big and wide.

"Course I do! But will it hurt her and how did she get like this? You see these stories on the Internet," They exchanged glances, "Oh don't be so naïve! Of course I look. Women do you know! They're vile some of them…"

They exchanged looks again

"Oh come on Sheila each to their own as long as…"

"Yeah, yeah as long as no one else gets hurt but some of these things, dildoes with metal spikes, rape, anal rape, kidnapping, slavery, torture…some of the things that these blokes want to do to women…"

He looked at her again.

"Some of them are written BY women."

She pursed her lips again,

"Mmm, but not the REALLY sick ones…"

"Anyway do you honestly think that's happened here?"

She looked at him again. A long searching look. A look that left him feeling mildly uncomfortable. A look that said "I've known you long enough now to know more about you than you realise!" or was it just paranoia on his part?

They stood looking at each other after that for some considerable time until finally she said,

"Give us that fucking control box!"

*

The Bishop was squatting down on his haunches.

"You've still got the final veto Ally, " He indicated the control in her hand, " But now is the time, if you've got any doubts!"

"'Course I've got doubts you silly bugger!" If she had been able to she would have raised a hand to her mouth, but she was at the point of no return for a lot of things now.

Seeing the surprise on her face The Bishop smiled and patted her shoulder.

"Ready?"

"Uh Huh!"

"I'll let Doctor Choudhari do the honours. Vicki you are under strict orders to gag this little slave girl immediately!"

And Vicki did exactly what she was told.

Seconds later a voice was whispering in Allison's ear.

"Don't know what you're expecting little slave girl, but I'm going to blindfold you for a little while, see you soon!"

There was nothing she could do. It was a thickly padded almost luxurious leather blindfold that shut out all light. She couldn't fight because her arms were strapped tightly to the frame, as were her legs. She could feel the blindfold being buckled snugly behind her head. She couldn't shout because the large ball in her mouth reduced any noise she might make to a handful of mumbles.

And then she heard voices. A hasty conference between what sounded like Vicki and Sarah. Vicki asking her if she was okay to carry on and then the Bishop asking if everything was all right and then silence…

And then vibration… A vibration that meant the machine on which she was mounted was about to spring into life… and then hands.

Warm hands all over her body. Two pairs of skilled hands. Massaging her, moving easily around her because of the skeletal frame on which she was mounted.

Her calves, her upper arms, her neck even the small of her back. Her shoulders. The hands where everywhere, not touching her sexually but warming and soothing every thing that they touched. Taking her down into a state of deep relaxation.

Then she heard something buzzing and she tensed a little.

"It's all right Ally, just relax now, just relax, can't have any stray hair getting in the way later so just relax." And she did and she felt not one but two pairs of electric clippers running over her body, taking away any hair that might have been missed when she had had a very expensive waxing the previous day and she felt the clippers on her arms and on her legs and then she heard a sharp intake of breath,

"Naughty, naughty little slave girl!" There was a light slap on her upper thigh and then Sarah's voice

"Now that was careless of you!" Another slap on the opposite thigh and then a pair of lips very close to her left ear.

"You are a very naughty girl Allison, you know we have to shave your pubic hair and you've left your labial rings in!" And this time not one but two slaps, hard on each buttock.

*

"You know why she's done this don't you?" Sarah

"So she gets to feel our hands on her pussy of course!" Vicki

"Mom, but not just on!" Sarah

"No. She's a greedy little mare. She'll want them in as well!" Vicki

"Better not disappoint her then!" Sarah

*

Considering that they were supposed to be relaxing her, the sudden snapping sound of surgical gloves being donned didn't at first bode well but then she felt fingers ruffling her pubic bush whilst a rubber gloved hand pressed itself over her already ball gagged mouth.

"Not a sound out of you young lady or we stop, understand?" Even though her forehead was firmly strapped down Ally still managed to nod her agreement.

*

Not being able to see had its advantages sometimes. Ally lay back and luxuriated in blissful darkness doing her best to imagine her two captors. She imagined buxom Sarah wearing nothing but a scanty rubber apron and high heels and of course rubber gloves, whilst Vicki wore the ubiquitous rubber apron and heels and red suspenders and stockings and who said women didn't have visual imaginations?

She imagined them in their surgical masks both coming towards her … and then she felt a touch on her pubic hair. A very light touch and then she heard voices.

"You know ladies it seems a shame to waste this moment! Especially as our little cutie is, ahem, "all tied up with nowhere to go!" So perhaps you could find somewhere to put this for a few minutes?"

What were they up to? What was The Bishop up to? That man was trickier than a barrel load of corkscrews and then she felt it again, movement down there.

She felt fingers in her luxuriant patch of pubic hair and her loins seemed to melt. Not marauding fingers but definitely teasing ones, fingers intent on one thing and one thing only – making her wetter.

They walked, literally walked through her little bush and she felt every movement and then they were gone only to return seconds later and this time they had a purpose, they were parting the hair, moving it out of the way so that …

Oh no! Oh no! They wouldn't. Would they?

And then she felt it. Something smooth and metallic being eased against her bare skin and being pushed a little and pulled and her rings being snagged slightly and then pulled again, first this way and then the other way and, oh shit!

The bastards the absolute wonderful bastards!

It had to be a pocket rocket, it just had to be! It was small and metallic and it seemed to fit just snugly between rings and flesh and here she was in this big, big studio with the naked Angela a few feet away chained naked to a cross in this white walled, glass roofed, huge room whilst she lay strapped and immobile, gagged and blindfolded on a rotating chair with a phenomenally powerful little vibrator slipped through the rings of her already wet little pussy and about, she had no doubt, to be turned on.

She felt hands on her breasts and each nipple received a little tweak and then a voice in her ear whispered,

"Bon voyage darling!" And with a slap on the backside she was off.

Totally unable to see. Moving backward at first with the tiny little vibrator snapped on to full power straight away and buzzing away awesomely against her soft puckered little labia and threatening to send her over the edge at any minute.

*

"How do you work this remote?"

He shrugged his shoulders,

"Don't ask me! You're the one who says men shouldn't be allowed to have the remote control to the television because…"

He looked up and saw her padding towards him. He felt a momentary stab of pain from the gash in his hand, but she had an ingratiating smile on her face.

"Oh come on now…"

He did his best not to laugh.

"I HATE it when you wheedle!"

"Moi?"

"Yes Moi! And if I wanted to live with Miss Piggy…"

But the look said "Shut it Buster if you know what's good for you!" and then her face softened as it always did.

"Isn't this every man's dream? Their own little servant who cooks and fucks and sucks you off! In fact the fucking wouldn't bother most men would it? Too much like exercise! As long as she cooks and sucks you off on a regular basis and to order, you wouldn't give a toss about anything else! You could be living in a pile of shit and it wouldn't matter…"

He looked at her steadily with a variety of thoughts going through his head. Then he looked around the living room of their comfortable twelfth floor flat, at the normal everyday furniture and the abnormal jet black box and it's even stranger rubber clad inhabitant with the blonde wig and the stuck on face and then his gaze travelled back to Sheila once more.

"And who exactly is trying to work the remote controls right now?"

"Ah! That's because…"

"That's because you want to give her a test run! See what she can do or rather see what she can take because…"

Her hands were on her hips now, the remote forgotten.

"Because what? Because I've got some sort of submissive fantasy, and I want to be her? Well fuck your luck mate!"

There was a time in any argument when a little simple needling could play its part.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much!"

"Don't you Shakespeare me! The cunt can't be that clever! He's been dead four hundred years!"

A hit. A palpable hit. She hated that word, or so she said, and she only used it in times of severe strife or, in other words, when he was winning an argument.

But all thoughts of the argument were suddenly forgotten as Bandy whirred into life.

*

They had certainly had their fun with her. She had looped the loop so many times she had lost count. She had spun backwards and then forwards. She had hung in what felt like mid air and still the bastards wouldn't let her come.

She now knew what it meant to be totally at someone's mercy but she hadn't heard laughter, in fact she seemed to be in an atmosphere of intense concentration

"Yeah!" She thought to herself "They're all concentrating on not letting me come!"

And then the chair began to slow and she found herself in a kind of standing position and the fingers were there again, touching her sensitive and wanting little place, taking care not to pinch but slowly extracting the still buzzing vibrator all the same and then she heard a voice in her ear

"Ah poor little Ally! Poor, poor, little slave girl. Didn't she get the chance to come then?"

No answer was obviously required and all her senses were reeling as the chair was raised (or was it lowered) until she was once again flat on her back and two (or was it three?) very slippery fingers eased themselves inside her poor wet and probably not gaping little hole and began to ease themselves slowly, so, so slowly in and then out and then in again.

*

"HEL –LO MIST-RESS. IS THERE SOME-THING YOU WOULD LIKE TO KNOW?"

Sheila looked at the dark shiny creature with suspicion, and then she looked at him.

"I'm not talking to it!"

"It's not a thing, it's a person."

"It's a person turned into a thing!"

"It's still a living creature, you talk to the cats!"

"I get sense out of them. Well a sense of sense. Which is more than I get from you sometimes."

"MIST- RESS YOU SOUND TROUB-LED."

"I don't believe this!"

"MIST – RESS YOU MAY ASK ME ANY QUEST-ION THAT YOU WISH!"

She stared at the black latexed creature in stark disbelief. It was still and unmoving and there was no clue to where the voice was coming from. Her head was covered in a black latex hood thick and eyeless and her eyes and mouth were vivid stick on ones.

The Bandy/Allison creature still had her arms pinned tightly to her sides and her ankles fettered and yet she was somehow capable of electronic speech and she at least SEEMED to be aware of what was going on in the room.

The creature spoke again.

"PLE- ASE DO NOT BE AFR- AID OF ME MISTRESS I AM YOUR SERVANT!"

Intrigued she walked up the rubber doll until they were virtually touching one another.

Archly she reached out a hand and touched the doll's thigh.

"What's your name again?" She asked quietly, running her hand gently up and down the soft latexed inner thigh of the creature.

"MY NAME IS ALLI-SON MIST-RESS!"

"Can you feel my hand Allison?"

A brief pause.

"YES MIST- RESS."

"And does it feel nice Allison?"

Another pause.

"YES MIST –RESS ."

"And what is it doing to you Allison?"

"IT IS MAK-ING MY CUNT WET MIST-RESS!"

Sheila was already muttering under her breath,

"Wet cunt! Wet cunt my eye!" And then she suddenly raised her voice" The only wet cunt around here is the person who's typing these answers into the vocoder back at mission bloody control or wherever you are!"

*

She lay back in utter darkness and almost complete silence. Silence broken only by the occasional snip of the scissors as they trimmed away her pubic hair. She had never had it done before and she had wondered how it would feel, whether she would feel violated or not. She didn't. In fact it was nice to be without it

The fingers had long finished their gentle, purposeful, stroking. She had been eased almost, but not quite, to climax and yet she somehow felt calm and complete when they withdrew. Afterwards came the scissors and now she heard the hum of the electric clippers as again as they moved into clear away the remaining hair and leave her bald and smooth. Her whole body felt the same way now, bald and smooth and somehow clean and fresh and invigorated.

Not a word had been spoken for some time and she was used to the dark and the quiet and the stillness. She felt the chair being raised. Raised until she was almost upright, but nothing else changed for a few seconds.

And then she felt them.

As she knew she would.

She felt the scissors at the top of her head and then she felt the sharp metal blades biting into her hair for the first time and she lay still and unmoving and silent as they began to chop away all the hair on her head.

TO BE CONTINUED

© Wallace 2003. The writer wishes to be acknowledged as the author of this piece. This story is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any events or places, real or imaginary, or to any people living or dead.