For some reason, none of the older members of the family would ever talk about Gilda and as she grew up and became a young woman, Annette had always wondered why her Aunt’s name was such a taboo subject.
At the age of nineteen, her curiosity became too strong to ignore and she approached her Mother about it, only to be told that Aunt Gilda was “the black sheep of the family” and “very different” and that Annette should have nothing to do with her.
Of course, that only intrigued Annette even more and when her Mother refused point-blank to divulge any other details, she decided to find out for herself what the big secret was all about. The best way seemed to her to be a visit to where her Aunt lived in Bavaria, but when she told her Mother what she planned, Annette was unprepared for the reaction she got.
First, she was told that her Aunt wouldn’t want her to come, then that it was too far for Annette to travel on her own, then that not speaking the language would make it far too difficult, but when she replied that she wasn’t a child and was quite capable of looking after herself, her Mother became angry and shouted that Annette had no idea what she might be letting herself in for, or what Gilda was like.
The row only made Annette more determined and when she said that she was going to go anyway and would find out about her Aunt when she got there, her Mother tried to lay down the law and told her that she absolutely forbade Annette to go to Bavaria.
That was a mistake, for as soon as Annette heard that, the decision was made. She was going to see her Aunt and there was nothing her Mother could do to stop her. Perhaps she would like Gilda so much, she snapped in reply, that maybe she wouldn’t come back at all and make a life for herself in Bavaria.
Realising she had lost the argument, her Mother tried one last time to dissuade her, but when Annette insisted, her Mother gave up, simply saying that if she was determined to go, then on her own head be it and whatever happened was her own fault for not listening to good advice when it was given, so she needn’t bother to come running back home if she didn’t like what she found.
Annette barely listened, too excited at the thought of travelling to a foreign country to see the mysterious Aunt she had never met and when her Mother left, she immediately got on her computer to book an open ticket with no specified return date, so that she could stay as long as Aunt Gilda was willing to let her.
Maybe if she was to stay away for a month or two, or even longer, her Mother would finally realise and accept that Annette was a grown woman and there was no reason to try to protect her from her own relative as if she was still a little girl…
Two weeks later, Annette paid off the taxi outside a pair of tall iron gates set in a high wall that surrounded the address she had been given as her Aunt’s, then rather nervously pressed the intercom button and stated who she was to the female voice which answered in a language she assumed was German.
There was a momentary silence, then there was a low-pitched chuckle and the voice replied in only slightly accented English, “Ah, my dear young niece. I am so pleased you are here and can assure you that everything is ready for your stay. Come straight up to the house when the gate opens. I can’t wait to meet you and get started.”
The phrase about “getting started” seemed a little odd to Annette, but as she couldn’t speak German at all, she put it down to a difference in translation and forgot about it when the gates swung open.
She stepped inside and was taken aback when she realised that the gates and wall concealed a much larger house than she had expected, flanked on all four sides by immaculate green lawns and large, mature trees.
As she gazed around, it dawned on her that her Aunt must be rich to own such a home and she immediately felt intimidated and a little out of place.
It wasn’t at all what she had expected and when the door of the house opened, the woman who appeared wasn’t what Annette expected, either.
Tall, elegant, with not a hair out of place and perfectly made-up, wearing a shiny, gold-coloured, superbly-cut blouse that hugged her like a second skin and made the most of her perfect breasts, an equally form-fitting black skirt of similar shiny material, gold stockings and black high heels and gloves, with a matching short corset emphasising her slender waist, the woman looked nothing like Annette’s idea of anybody’s Aunt, but more like a model from the pages of one of the up-market fashion magazines catering to a particularly smart and sophisticated readership.
Annette had assumed she would be much more like her own Mother, but this woman could easily pass as her older sister and when her Aunt crooked a finger in a beckoning gesture, Annette complied meekly, carrying her bag up the steps towards her.
Close up, Aunt Gilda was even more impressive, her high heels aiding her to tower over Annette, who felt even more intimidated and overawed as she was subjected to a cool inspection before her Aunt smiled, “Good afternoon, Annette and welcome to my home. What a pretty little thing you are.”
“Uh…Well, thank you…uh…” Annette hesitated, unsure what to call her relative, “Um…Sorry, but it just doesn’t seem right to call you Aunt or Auntie. You…well, you don’t look like one, you see…”
Her voice trailed off uncertainly and she felt her cheeks flush pink, “I…thought you’d be…older…and not so…beautiful…”
“Oh, how sweet, dear. I do so like it when a young guest is polite and respectful from the beginning. It makes things so much easier and more pleasant for everyone. My guests usually call me Miss Gilda, so why don’t you do the same, my dear. But you must be tired after your journey, so bring your bag inside and we’ll have some refreshments and get to know each other a little better before I show you your room.”
She spoke as if the matter was decided and when she turned to lead the way, Annette found herself with no choice but to follow.
In the luxuriously furnished lounge, Aunt Gilda sat in what was clearly her regular place, a large, throne-like chair with a high back, then crossed her long, slender legs and invited Annette to take one of the other smaller, lower seats.
“Now, Annette dear, why don’t you tell me exactly why you have come to visit me. You’re very welcome, of course, but I’m sure your Mother wasn’t happy that you were coming and no doubt told you what a terrible person I am. Isn’t that right, dear?”
Aunt Gilda gazed enquiringly at her and Annette felt her cheeks redden as if she was somehow responsible for her Mother’s opinions, “Uh…well…yes she did, Aunt…uh…I mean…uh… Miss Gilda. She tried to put me off from coming to see you and even forbade it, but when I said I was coming anyway she got really angry and told me I didn’t know what you were like.”
“But you came anyway,“ Aunt Gilda smiled, “How very grown up of you to go against your Mother’s wishes. I do hope it won’t make things difficult for you when you go home. And by the way, how long do you propose to stay?”
“Um…well…I was hoping…maybe…a month or…or more if that’s OK with you?” Annette replied shyly, then hurriedly added, “But please say if it’s not. I don’t want to impose on you and if that’s too long, I can leave anytime.”
“But what about your return flight, Annette? What date is that booked for?”
“Oh, that’s OK. It’s an open ticket so I can use it whenever I want. Well, up to a year, anyway, but you won’t want me around that long, will you?”
Aunt Gilda smiled again, “Who knows, my dear. It’s always nice to have pretty young girls like yourself around my home and after a while, we may have built up such a close relationship that you may find it very difficult to leave. Perhaps, even quite impossible.”
For the second time, her Aunt’s choice of phrase seemed odd to Annette, but as before, she put it down to differences in language and when she was asked if she would like something to drink, she replied that she would love a coffee, black with no sugar.
Aunt Gilda nodded and complimented her on looking after her figure, then picked up a telephone on a small table beside her chair, pressed a button and ordered the drinks in German from whoever must have answered somewhere else in the house.
Annette had never considered that her Aunt might have servants and the fact that she must have, powerfully reinforced Annette’s sense of being in a world that she was not familiar with, where Aunt Gilda’s wealth and casual acceptance of privilege and authority, made Annette feel even younger and more unsophisticated than she really was.
One day, perhaps, she might be as calm and in control as her Aunt, but while she waited for her coffee to arrive and responded to enquiries about her flight and how she had arrived at the house, Annette felt almost as if she was a schoolgirl again, summoned before her Headmistress to explain herself for some infraction of the rules.
She was relieved when a soft tap on the door signalled the arrival of coffee, but when her Aunt called “Enter,” Annette was totally unprepared for what she saw next.
Through the door came a young woman, little older than Annette herself, carrying two cups and saucers on a silver tray…but it was not her age, or what she carried that caused Annette’s eyes to bulge in astonishment.
Dressed in a version of the classic, black and white, French Maid’s outfit, the girl’s firm breasts were completely exposed above a tightly-laced corset, some inches of her creamy thighs visible between the hem of her ridiculously short skirt and the tops of her black fishnet stockings, perched on a pair of incredible stiletto heels, with a wide steel collar encircling her slim throat and matching cuffs on her wrists and ankles, each pair linked with thick steel chains.
Annette had never seen anything like it in her young life and as she gaped at the totally unexpected sight, the girl made her way slowly across the room, struggling to hold her balance on the massive heels she wore.
A few steps away, she stumbled and swayed and before she could regain control, the tray slid from her grasp and crashed to the floor, a look of horror mixed with fearful alarm on her face as her error brought a sharp expletive from Aunt Gilda.
Quickly regaining her customary poise, Aunt Gilda snapped a sharp order to the maid and when she had gathered up the wreckage and hurried away, turned to Annette, “I’m so sorry, my dear. Ingrid is quite new and not yet fully trained, so accidents will happen, I’m afraid. I shall…discuss…her failings with her later and I am sure she will try very hard to do better in future. I’ve sent her to make more coffee and it will be a few minutes.”
Still shocked by the maid’s appearance, Annette stammered, “But…But…She was…She had…chains. On her wrists…and her ankles. And…And…her br…breasts…They were…She had no top on…”
“Yes, that's right, Annette,” her Aunt replied calmly, “Ingrid is in training, my dear and that is how she is required to dress. Why, does it offend you?”
“Well…Nooo,“ Annette said slowly, “Not really…It’s just…well…I didn’t expect it and I’ve never seen anybody…chained up like that.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear,” Aunt Gilda chuckled, “You’ll soon get used to it. Trainees in my house are always required to wear appropriate dress and restraints. It helps to instil the proper attitude while they are training for their new roles.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt,” Annette apologised, “But I don’t understand. You say you’re training Ingrid, but what exactly are you training her for? What new role is she going to be doing that could possibly need her to be chained up with her breasts exposed?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised, dear. I have clients all over Europe for my particular training services and I’ve made a very comfortable living for many years.”
Annette shook her head, clearly still confused and unsure and her Aunt smiled sympathetically, “Let me try to explain, Annette. Wealthy and successful businessmen and women give a great deal of time, effort and dedication to their careers and require the same from their employees and colleagues. So in their home-life, it’s no surprise that many of them expect and often demand an equal level of commitment from their wives and girlfriends, in return for the comfort and security their wealth provides. And that is where I come in. Take Ingrid, for example. Her fiancée likes the idea of being served by a French Maid, so she is here to be trained. And talking of Ingrid, here she is with the fresh coffee.”
This time, there were no slip-ups and when she had placed the cups carefully on the table between Annette and her Aunt, the trainee maid curtseyed to each and began to leave the room.
Fascinated by Ingrid’s bizarre costume, Annette turned to watch her, marvelling that she was able to walk at all in the vertiginous heels she was apparently required to wear and trying to imagine what it must feel like to be chained and collared and displayed as she was.
With her back turned, she never saw a small white pill slipped into her coffee cup by her Aunt and when Ingrid finally made her way through the door and closed it behind her, Annette had no idea what her Aunt had done.
“So, Annette, now you know a little more about me and what I do for a living, was your Mother right that I’m such a terrible person?” Aunt Gilda chuckled as she asked the question and held out a cup of coffee to Annette when she turned back, “Perhaps I should call you a taxi to take you straight back to the airport, or are you going to stay and risk the awful Fate she was trying to warn you about?”
Annette smiled at the ridiculous over-dramatisation and shook her head, “No taxi, please,” she replied quickly, “I want to stay here and get to know you properly.”
“Then so you shall, my dear and I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful addition to my little household. And as you are so fascinated by Ingrid’s training, it will give you the opportunity to see the methods I use, first hand. It will be quite an education for you, because I really am very good at what I do.”
Reaching out to take the cup, Annette nodded eagerly, “Yes, please. I’d love that,” she hesitated for a moment and took a sip of coffee, “Will it be OK with Ingrid, though? She won’t mind me being around while she’s training?”
Aunt Gilda gave a throaty laugh, “No, Annette. That will not be a problem at all. Ingrid is here to be trained as a maid and when she returns to her fiancé’s home, may well be expected to serve his friends and guests, so it will be good practice for her.”
Reassured by her Aunt’s confirmation, Annette relaxed and drank some more coffee, almost draining the cup, “This is lovely coffee, Aunt…sorry…Miss Gilda. Really delicious.”
“I’m glad you like it, my dear. It’s my own personal blend that I keep for very special guests like yourself. It has certain…properties…that make it quite invaluable to me. In fact, you should be starting to find out about that…” she made a show of checking her watch, then smiled at Annette, “Oh, about…now…I would think. So let me just take that cup from you. We don’t want another little accident, do we?”
As the cup was removed from her hand, Annette stared down at her open fingers and frowned, as if trying to work out what was missing, then, with a huge effort, managed to lift her head and mumble, “Wha…? So…sleepy… Can’t…stay awake…” before her eyes closed and she slid off her chair and slumped bonelessly to the floor.
“Have a good rest, Annette dear,” her Aunt chuckled, smiling down at her unconscious niece, “It’s been some time since I’ve had a live-in house-slave and I know you’ll make a delightful little rubber-pet for me when you’re fully trained. I wonder if you’ll wish you’d listened to your Mother when you wake up and find out what I have in mind for you?”
Annette’s eyelids fluttered, then her blue eyes slowly opened as she gradually recovered from the depths of her drugged sleep.
For several moments she lay still, then groaned as she became aware of discomfort that she had never experienced before.
Her feet and arms, waist and shoulders, neck and even her jaw, all ached unmercifully, but when she attempted to change her position, found that she couldn’t.
Frowning, she wondered why her arms seemed to be stuck behind her back, then as her brain began to clear, realised that she was bound in some way and wearing a skintight black rubber suit.
More confused than alarmed, Annette tried to turn to see what was restraining her arms, only to discover that her entire head and neck were completely immobilised by some sort of rigid collar and hood that allowed her no movement whatsoever.
No movement and no speech, for her mouth was filled with a large inflatable gag that pinned her tongue and reduced her attempts to unintelligible gibberish.
Forced to look straight ahead, she squinted down her nose and was astonished to see that her breasts were exposed, just as Ingrid the maid’s had been.
The memory of her Aunt’s words about seeing her training methods at first hand, came crashing into her mind and she shuddered, her eyes widening in dismay at the sudden awful suspicion that Aunt Gilda might be intending to train her as well…
Horrified at the thought, she struggled to sit up, her fear increasing hugely at the discovery that her ankles were shackled and linked by chain, that was also connected to whatever bound her arms behind her, her every effort to move accompanied by the jingling and clinking of steel.
Finally managing to get upright, a gasp of sheer disbelief and anguish burst from her nose when two horribly-uncomfortable presences immediately made themselves felt in the most embarrassing and intimate way.
She was doubly-penetrated, her sex and anus both invaded by what felt to her like hard, inflated balloons stretching and filling her, their effect intensified by the extreme compression of a rigid, steel-boned corset clamped so tightly around her waist that she was reduced to quick shallow breaths.
Appalled by the unaccustomed and most definitely unwanted sensations of fullness in her lower belly, she lurched to her feet, her eyes wide with alarm and her mind reeling at what had been done to her…then staggered and almost fell as she was thrown off balance by the tip-toe, en-pointe position forced on her by a pair of tightly-laced ballet-boots with immensely high heels that had been fitted on her feet while she slept.
Her toes, ankles and calves immediately protested at being forced into a straight, vertical line by the ballet-boots and as she tottered from foot to foot in vain efforts to ease the discomfort, the chain between her cuffed ankles snapped taut and added to her woes as she realised that her steps had been limited to no more than nine inches.
Whimpering in despair, she tried to tell herself that Aunt Gilda could not possibly get away with holding her captive and keeping her chained and training her like Ingrid…but when the door opened and her Aunt entered carrying a riding-crop in one hand and a leather leash in the other, the confident smile on her red lips sent an icy chill of horror racing up Annette’s spine.
“Hello again, Annette dear. Did you have a nice sleep? As I’m sure you’ve suspected since waking up, I’ve decided that you are no longer a visitor here, but a trainee, just like Ingrid. Like her, you will learn to obey my instructions immediately and without question. If you refuse, or try to disobey, or fail to satisfy me in any way, I shall punish you quite severely. And I shall continue to punish you until you reach the standard of perfection I demand. I do hope I’ve made your position clear and that you understand what is required, otherwise your life here is going to be rather unpleasant and uncomfortable.”
Her calm, friendly voice in no way matched the uncompromising message of her words and when Annette met her Aunt’s flat, determined gaze, she trembled to the awful realisation that her relative was completely and terrifyingly serious.
She was not going to be freed, or permitted to defy her Aunt in any way and as she faced an uncertain future of enforced obedience and helpless subjugation, her blue eyes fastened on the thin, whippy riding-crop and widened in fearful alarm.
Following the direction of Annette’s eyes, Aunt Gilda nodded cheerfully, “That’s right, dear. You’ll feel it every time I consider you need discipline or correction, so I suggest you pay close attention to me and do exactly what I say, when I say. So we shall begin at once with you standing up nice and tall and offering your breasts to me.”
The order was so preposterously unthinkable that Annette was too surprised to even protest, far less submit to such an impossibly humiliating demand and display her body so shamefully.
Two seconds after the order was given, the riding-crop rose and whistled down to land with a loud “thwack” on Annette’s rubber-clad left thigh, its impact followed a split-second later by her shrill wail of anguish as fierce heat erupted through her leg.
“I gave you an order, my dear,” Aunt Gilda’s voice was perfectly calm, as if administering a painful cropping was a normal, everyday event, “You would be well advised to obey it. Unless you enjoy being disciplined, of course.”
In pain and utterly terrified by what had been done to her, Annette cast a frantic, pleading glance at her Aunt, but when the crop rose threateningly, she whimpered in surrender and jerked her body erect, pulling her shoulders back to project her breasts as prominently as possible.
Not daring to move a single muscle, she felt her face flush bright red as Aunt Gilda gazed boldly at her out-thrust breasts, then nodded in satisfaction, “Very nice, dear. You see, that wasn’t so hard, now was it? Naturally as it’s your first day of training, I only gave you a light touch of the crop, but any further show of defiance will be dealt with much more severely until you learn to obey as the house-pet you are to become for me. Now keep still while I fasten your leash.”
The appalling news of what her future was to be, set Annette trembling wildly and when she saw the gleaming steel clamps at the ends of the split-leash, her mind reeled to the sudden, horrid understanding of just how and where she was about to be leashed.
If it hadn’t been for the crop, she would definitely have tried to flee, but the stinging of her thigh and the threat of more and harder lashes held her in place while her Aunt moved towards her
A black-gloved hand reached out to capture her left breast and Annette gasped as her tender nipple was rolled and squeezed, conflicting sensations of shame, guilt and pleasure warring in her reeling brain as the fleshy bud stiffened and grew achingly hard.
Confused by her reaction to her Aunt’s authoritative touch, she winced and squealed when the spring-loaded jaws of the first clamp closed around her nipple, then moaned in arousal and fear as the combination was repeated at her right breast.
Doubly-leashed, Annette gazed anxiously at her Aunt, horribly aware of how helpless she was and how easily she could be cruelly and painfully disciplined by a simple twitch of the leash gripped in the older woman’s fist.
“Now, dear,” Aunt Gilda said cheerfully, “We’re going for a little walk to get you used to those ballet-boots.”
Barely able to stand upright on the huge spike-heels, Annette doubted that she could walk at all, but when the leash drew taut and the jaws of the clamps tightened even more, she discovered that she not only could, but absolutely had to…
Too painful to resist, the evil little devices gave her absolutely no option but to follow where they led and when Aunt Gilda walked slowly towards the door, Annette was forced to totter after her, swaying uncertainly at every short, chain-restricted step, whimpering in pain and despair at her utter helplessness and the horrifying ease with which she had been compelled to obey.
Accompanied by the tip-tapping of her ballet-boot heels, the clinking of her chains and the panting gasps of her laborious progress, she was taken out of the room and along a wide wood-floored corridor, wincing as the muscles of her legs protested, but not daring to slow or stop because of the awful punishment her nipples would receive if she did.
The very large, airy, beautifully-appointed room she was finally led into was, from the array of expensive cosmetics, wardrobe full of stylish clothes and huge inviting bed, quite clearly Aunt Gilda’s bedroom.
Its deep, soft carpet, plumply-upholstered chairs and chaise-longue promised supreme comfort…but not, as Annette soon learned, for her.
Drawn across the full width of the bedroom to a deep, narrow alcove, she gaped in appalled disbelief at the waist-high, heavily-barred, steel cage sitting on the floor, an open padlock hanging on its door.
“Here we are, dear. It’s getting late, so in you go and I’ll lock you up for the night.”
Annette didn’t want to believe her Aunt meant to keep her in a cage, like an animal, but when the leash tugged firmly and the crop tapped her right thigh in an unmistakable warning of what would happen to her if she tried to refuse, she knew she must obey.
Sinking awkwardly to her knees, she shuffled to the door of the cage, then managed to twist her upper body and direct a pleading look up at Aunt Gilda, begging mutely to be released.
For a brief moment, her hopes rose as her Aunt bent towards her, then she moaned in anguish as the clamps were removed and circulation rushed back into her nipples.
Distracted by the pins-and-needles, she failed to respond when the crop tapped her bottom to urge her into the cage and was immediately disciplined by a stinging lash.
“I did warn you, dear,” Aunt Gilda reminded her, “You do what I tell you, when I tell you. So don’t be a silly girl and get inside while I’m still feeling soft-hearted.”
The smarting heat of Annette’s bottom didn’t feel to her as if Aunt Gilda was being at all soft-hearted towards her, but she wisely decided not to argue and bent low to crawl through the door and into the cage, relieved to note that it was just long enough for her to lie down and that the floor was padded.
Behind her, the clang of the door was followed by the snap of the padlock and as she was forced to confront the almost-inconceivable fact that she was locked inside a cage, bound and gagged in a rubber suit, in the bedroom of her own Aunt, Annette moaned in despair, realising that there was nothing she could do.
She couldn’t escape and the only person who knew where she had gone, was her Mother…and she had had a furious argument with her Mother before she left, not only not telling her how long she planned to be away, but even saying that she might not return at all.
It could be months before her Mother became concerned at her long absence…if she ever did…and even then, she might well just assume Annette had decided to stay permanently and do nothing about it.
She was completely alone, in a foreign country, unable to speak the language, knowing nobody but the woman who had drugged and imprisoned her and intended to turn her into some sort of human pet.
“There now, dear. Safely tucked up for the night. I’m afraid you probably won’t be very comfortable, but I can’t have you roaming around free for a while yet. Not until you’re properly house-broken and fully trained. After that, you’ll get to sleep at the foot of my bed, just as a good little house-pet should. And I’m looking forward to putting you on a leash and taking you for walks around the gardens, too. And having you curled up at my feet while I’m working. It’s been a long time since I last owned a pet and I really miss it, so I was delighted when you came along to fill the vacancy. Your training will start in the morning, so goodnight, Annette, dear and sweet dreams.”
Aunt Gilda’s words sent shivers of horror racing up and down Annette’s spine while her worst fears were confirmed and when a curtain was pulled across the alcove and the light went out, plunging her into darkness, big, hot tears trickled down her cheeks and over her gagged cheeks as she began the first of what she was chillingly certain would be many, many long, uncomfortable nights while she was being trained.
The very worst part being that she had no-one to blame for her plight, but herself. Her Mother had told her not to go to Aunt Gilda’s and warned that Annette had no idea how different her Aunt was, or how much trouble she might get herself into by visiting her. Mother had been right, but Annette hadn’t listened, thinking she knew better and was perfectly capable of coping with whatever imaginary, unspecified “trouble” her Mother meant.
Only the “trouble” hadn’t been imaginary and Aunt Gilda really was “different.”
Very different.
So different that Annette feared she was going to be turned into her Aunt's permanent house-pet and would never be freed of her chains, or permitted to leave the confines of the house and garden ever again…