Turmoil

Part Five

Chapter 9: Impiety

Like a little cluster of colourful gnome-like beacons, the children were standing around the puddle without treading in it in the downpour from leaden skies. One of the bigger boys used a long twig to prod what looked like a deformed piece of freckled fur lying in the shallow, muddy water; and the audience surrounding him paid little attention to the car approaching like a stealthy shark melting into the autumnal backdrop in different shades of grey.

It slowed down, rolling silently past the children who barely bothered to give the vehicle a second glance. The boy with the twig took a single, deliberate step closer to the object of interest as if he expected it to look different from a different angle.

Niamh twisted in her seat and tried to aim the dry, warm flow of air streaming from the vent directly at her face to get rid of the chilling feeling passing through her. She wished that she had looked away instead of trying to find out what the kids had been doing in the middle of the road. She recognised both the ridiculously wide tyre tracks and what once had been a charming fifteen pounds worth of fur ball occasionally spending time with her in the garden, only to prospect for edible playthings at first, but then gradually becoming attached to her. It helped, of course, that she had taken care of the spines from the hedgehog stuck in its face when lunch had proven too difficult to handle.

The name on the worn necklace around its neck was illegible, so Niamh had given the tom the name Padhraig after her late uncle. They had the same hair colour and nearly the same smell, which triggered a flow of nearly lost memories every time she tried to lay hands on the cat. It didn’t like to be touched, but seemed to have a thing for Alex, unlike nearly any other animal this side of Eden. Delicious tidbits straight from the kitchen were probably a good foundation to build a lasting relationship on, if you had a feline inclination.

Alex laid a hand on her thigh, but her eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead as they gradually picked up speed again.

“Have you made up your mind yet?” she asked. There was a distant melancholy in her voice. “It’ll feel so strange not to have you around for such a long while, sweetie.”

Click, clack the cogwheels went; said if you wait too long they’ll charge you rent... Niamh met her own gaze in the visor mirror. Was that the face of someone about to throw herself out in the unknown? Bollocks to the unknown. Learn to land on your feet instead of flat on your face like always before. The mirror image grinned at her. Coward.

The puzzle still lacked a few vital pieces, but the general picture was clear. Somehow, she had to start sorting her life out before moving on. Moving in another direction than where she felt this relationship was going was hitherto not an option. Niamh wanted to pursue this wonderful, strange, painfully demanding and confusing liaison to see it turn into the long-term engagement she thought both of them had been waiting for all too long. This never had been a game of any sort, despite all the malicious rumours about Alex. Why did she even bother about what people said, and would say about them? Is this a bothered face, though?

No, there were much worse circumstances to deal with. A date marked in her ageing organiser. An appointment, perhaps the announcement of a verdict. Her mother awaiting another, slowly but steadily losing thread after thread to both past and present, vanishing in the merciless haze.

“Yeah.” Niamh sighed. “Let’s talk about that a bit later, yeah? I’m not sure how everything will turn out, but I don’t think I’ll be away that long.” Because there’s nothing left for me there but grief anyhow. “And don’t dare looking at me like that; it’s hard enough as it is. Yes, I will return to you. In style.”

“How?” Alex smirked. “Vivien Leigh-style?”

“Leave it. You’re the one about as bonkers as Blanche DuBois, admit it!”

“I hope it doesn’t mean that you start acting like Brando,” she giggled. “The horror...”

“Got some of his looks, though. Same eyebrows. And you keep telling me that I make a complete headcase out of you sometimes, so there you have it.”

“Faît accompli, dear.”

***

Alex insisted on doing all the packing for the weekend herself, bar the everyday necessities. Niamh suspected that there would be quite a few nasty surprises in for her in those cases. There could also be more than one waiting for her and Theresa as well when they arrived; judging from the mail conversation Alex tried to hide from her the other day. Somehow, she assumed that Alex had let André in on the secret setup if Theresa hadn’t already beaten her to it, and she didn’t dare thinking of where all that could end.

Instead of moping around, Niamh went scavenging for something useful regarding a very personal matter. In the old shed serving as a garage for Major Tom, she found some interesting items and hid them in a duffel bag that she carried to the back of the house, where she knew there would be garden tools and gloves. Somehow, it felt quite natural to her to cause a little aggravation. There had been too little of that lately.

Peering at the skyline through the bottom of a stained plastic funnel, she hummed a little tune for herself. It was the perfect soundtrack for disaster, she thought.

“Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been? I’ve been up to Frey’s Hall to get some grub from the queen. Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there?  I frightened a wee lass in skanky underwear...”

***

It could have been a perfectly ordinary weekend trip to anywhere, but Niamh had sensed a certain electricity in the air all morning. Of course it had gradually built up for quite a few days, but now she felt as she was jogging wrapped in foil through a thunderstorm. Alex had a relaxed air about her, having donned a no-special-occasion ensemble that made Niamh think of the beautiful twilight the night before all hell was let loose from the skies.

As the gates closed behind them, Alex took a deep breath of fresh air and closed the side window, smiling faintly. There was a dangerous glint in her eye that hadn’t been there before, Niamh noticed. However, this could be because she actually tried to cut down on her nasty little cigarillos, even though Niamh doubted it. She wondered if it would be a good idea to bring it up by giving her a nice compliment for trying, but decided to wait. That glint often meant that Alex had one of her little imagining moments, and interfering by saying something snootily half-witted about smoking could entail a slight change of plans. Niamh tried to picture what it would be like to wear a gas mask and have that thick, grey smoke fed to her through the tube.

“Are you all right?” Alex asked when looking at her. “Did I make the coffee too strong for you again, dear?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Niamh stuttered, trying to wipe off the grisly grimace. “Say, can we take the way through the village?”

“All right. I thought you already had posted all the letters. Have I missed something?”

The question remained unanswered until they passed by the village local. Outside in the street, there was a slightly more beige cluster consisting of larger people than the other day surrounding a brand new Nissan Murano with obnoxiously oversized chrome wheels. Two of them stood out from the crowd; a skinny blonde in a burgundy leather jacket and skirt bobbing fervently up and down with rage, and an older gentleman with a walrus face, looking desolate. The people were looking at the once so extravagant coat of metallic flash pink slowly blending with matt white base coat in thin spatters and streaks all over the bonnet, the roof and the doors. Small, white residues of what looked like balloons were caught in the wind and blew across the street.

Alex waited until they had passed the crowd and turned around a corner before tipping her toe slightly, making the car shift down, grunting approvingly as it sent them shooting down the road.

“I really can’t understand how kids think. Someone ought to give them a real walloping.” Alex said a bit absent-mindedly to the pair of eyes and tuft of hair, which were the only visible parts of Niamh’s face above the upturned jacket collar. “I noticed you came in late last night. We wouldn’t want you to catch a cold now, would we? Care for a ginger bomb?”

***

People often describe long trips on the road as ‘uneventful’ if nothing they often see on TV happens to them, or preferably someone else if it’s something really interesting. Niamh wondered about the people slowing down at an accident just to get a proper eyeful, forgetting where they were and suddenly finding themselves being part of the action. How the hell do they manage to handle knife and fork?

The traffic moved really slowly, but Alex didn’t seem a bit bothered. She had probably plotted an alternate route already, which would save them just the right amount of minutes lost in this congestion. Niamh, on the other hand, felt annoyingly frisky. As they slowly rolled to a halt caused by a lorry trying to change lanes, she slowly unzipped the fly on her jeans with her left hand and let her right hand slowly wander across the section between the lush leather seats. She winced as her wrist was caught in an iron grip that only slightly loosened when Alex turned to look her in the eye.

“There is plenty of room in the back seat, sweetie, even if I think you’ll find it a bit hard to masturbate with your thumbs attached to your ankles.”

When Niamh tried to blow her a raspberry, Alex’ fingers nearly caught her tongue. She was still much faster than anyone would expect.

“Or, if you’re not too afraid of the dark, there’s always a bit of space left in the boot.”

“If I keep saying ‘are we there yet’, would you let me do something about this?”

Alex seemed to think of something. She pointed to the back of the car.

“There is a small box behind the headrest in the middle. Can you reach it, you think?”

Niamh willingly plunged into the back seat after removing her seat belt in a rush, fetching the white box.  It turned out to be much less thrilling than she had imagined.

“A first aid kit?”

“Right.” Alex seemed proud of herself. “I actually have two. A real emergency kit in the rear, and that one. That’s more of a boo-hoo box.”

“And you’re Kindergarten Pandora, then? Boo-hoo box?”

“Go ahead and open it. You’ll see.”

Niamh popped the plastic box open, only to find what anyone would expect in a boo-hoo box.  Tissues and swabs, gauze, some safety pins, a bottle of disinfectant and funny sticking plasters amongst other little needful things. She didn’t really understand the point of looking in it.

Alex put the car in park and rubbed her hands.

“Let’s see if you can find me a piece of string- there’s a roll of really thin string in there somewhere- a glove and a packet of round plasters, please.”

Niamh watched her questioningly as she deftly tied her little fingers together with a piece of hair-thin string, and then fastened a round plaster over her mouth. Alex made her look at herself in the make-up mirror, and she noticed the Smiley face now covering her mouth. Then, Niamh nearly jumped in her seat when she heard the dry snap of a medical latex glove being quickly pulled on.

“Here’s the deal,” Alex hummed, moving the lever back to D again as the traffic started moving up front. “If that piece of string breaks, or the plaster comes off before I’ll allow it; you will have to promise me not to masturbate for a month. Agreed?”

Niamh grunted, waving her hands about.

“Aaand that makes it two months. We weren’t bargaining, sweetie.”

Niamh held her breath as Alex stuck her left hand inside her trousers, but instead of getting straight to the point she only let it rest over the mons, letting Niamh feel the warmth of her fingers so very close to the itch without allowing her anything further. She tried to wiggle, but the seat wouldn’t allow her much movement. Alex grinned as she pressed the accelerator to pass a convoy of confused commuters.

“So no, since you were asking, we aren’t there quite yet.”

***

As they rolled up to the old farm, Niamh noticed a few differences since the last time they visited the place. Where there had been a certain half-heartedness about the caretaking concerning the buildings and surroundings, there was now what only could be described as a very definite brochureness to the whole setting. She wondered if someone had even bothered to comb the cows a bit further away. It was all a bit unsettling, although no one could deny it was at least some improvement in a sense.

At least Theresa looked familiar, greeting them in a screamingly yellow dress combined with a daredevil hairstyle. With a face expressing a picture book example of cheerful, she looked like someone stepping right out of a particularly entertaining episode of Dr. Who.

“Welcome, both of you.” she twittered, trying to embrace Niamh and, a little more formally, give Alex a swift peck on the cheek as well. She encountered a minor problem with the difference in altitude, but seemed to manage anyhow. “How are you doing, Niv? You look...Wow, even better than last time.” She frowned a little, giving Niamh a light caress on the cheek. “But man, you’re burnin’. Something the matter with you?”

Alex suddenly giggled, shaking her head. Niamh gave her a quick look that could have cut sheet metal into nice curly shreds. On the otherwise spotless floor carpet in the Mercedes, there was a little crumpled plaster and a piece of string.

“You’ve made a few changes to this place,” Alex went on, sensing the need of a change of subject for a moment. “Quite a few ones, I’d say. Lots of work.”

“Oh, tell me about it!” Theresa twirled in order to be able to point in as many directions as possible at once. “You know, Jonno bought the whole place two months ago. He got fed up with how things were, sold off- liquesomething his assets- and moved in down there.”

“In the shed? Who’s Jonno?” Niamh asked, feeling a bit scrambled.

“My oldest brother Jon, former broker.” Theresa burbled, “I never got around to telling you what a big and weird family I have, did I? And that’s no shed, it’s part of our new atelier. He’s done all this with a little help here and there. André’s fallen in love with the poor bastard, ‘cause he likes the craftsman type, see.”

Niamh realised quite soon that even if poor, stressed out Jon didn’t exactly share the mutual interests of André and Theresa or wanted to be part of their little venture, he had found something solid to build upon. Exactly what he was building for himself and to what purpose was probably not the right question to ask. As long as he left the cows and sheep alone, why bother?

Full board and lodging. Niamh jumped on the bed and bounced up and down a few times. Pukka. She loved the little chamber with its flowery wallpaper, finding out that it actually was possible to achieve an even more palpable cosy-countryside atmosphere than back in Alex’ cottage. Back home, as it felt. It was also quite amusing to think about what was hidden a stone’s throw away from this visual Valium.

Alex entered the room, flinging an empty bag into the wardrobe. There was an amazingly loud rumbling noise about her, and Niamh heard her groan like a lioness.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe what that handsome little maquisard is making right now.”

“You went straight to the kitchen when you heard André was there, Alex.”

“I know tea’s up in a minute but I was dying for a sip of his coffee...”

“And by the look and smell of it, something chickenish. There’s some on your chin.”

“Chickenish?” Alex whistled, landing on the bed next to Niamh. “Heathen. I assure you that his cooking will absolutely be the second most memorable thing this weekend. Come on and join us now. You need to eat something before we get started.”

***

It was quite a buzz just to sit and feel the tension build up around the table, Niamh thought. They were only four, since Theresa’s brother was away for the weekend. Naturellement, my dear Dr. Whatsnot, not hard to figure out why. Perhaps the most interesting thing was to witness how perfectly relaxed André and Alex seemed to be in each other’s company, communicating mostly in French so full of argot that both she and Theresa gave up trying to listen in. There was an unmistakeable lasciviousness in Alex’ way of using the language, though, that didn’t pass unnoticed.

Theresa sat opposite to her, and appeared to have grave difficulties with focusing on the light meal. She was well wound up already, and when a second olive came rolling across the tablecloth towards Niamh, there was a slight clatter of cutlery and a muffled excuse before Theresa got up and headed for the lavatory.

“Don’t worry, dearie,” Alex said, nibbling at a piece of bread. “it’s nothing serious. You go talk to her, I think she wants a few words with you sub rosa before we...you know...”

Niamh went to look for Theresa, but couldn’t help but wondering why Alex seemed so used to this happening. ‘They can be very entertaining’... Oh, yeah? Just a harmless frolic, then. She found her peeping out from behind the open bathroom door.

“Get in here, quickly!” she hissed, nearly dragging Niamh into the bathroom.

“What’s wrong? You’re making me bloody nervy when you act like this!”

“Just listen...” Theresa shuddered like a badly balanced washing machine when she sat down on the toilet seat. “God, I’m so excited. And afraid. First I thought we were just going to have some fun without letting her pull the strings, and then I find myself accepting her invitation and all the terms and conditions- there were a few, yeah- but what the hell have we got ourselves into?”

“Look, have you taken anything you shouldn’t...”

“No! Listen!” Theresa growled, and Niamh forgot every nasty thought about histrionics. “I’ll be straight with you; so all right, we’ve had our share of fun and games, ha-ha and all that in the past. Lovely as it was, it was never for real ! Now, all of a sudden you’re in the picture and there you have the passion.” She said, pulling one of her fingers.

Being in the picture, Niamh thought, had obviously changed things outside her own life. Somehow, it felt really good to hear from one of those affected by it, if there was such a phenomenon as feeling lovingly smug. Theresa, still all keyed up, kept talking.

“That’s where it might get dangerous. At least, I mean, for me. I have reason to believe she’s not fucking about tonight, jealous or not. This ain’t bloody Kansas anymore, innit?”

“So what are you afraid of is going to happen, then? I mean, she won’t hurt you...”

“Nah, right. Let me tell you about what André has been tinkering with since last week; or better still- I’ll wait and let you see for yourself what he’s done. She’s been conspiring with him, she has.”

“What are you on about?”

“The whole setup is entirely new. Every single thing. He has rebuilt his devices, added more stuff than I suggested, and God knows what else he’s done to that torture chamber...I mean, he’s been at it like a friggin’ Frankenstein. How much do you wanna wager that it’s mostly her ideas spilling over on him?”

“Yeah, but look...” Niamh tried, “I mean, if you don’t feel like doing it, let’s call it off and just forget about it. There’s always something else we could come up with...”

Theresa suddenly jumped up and pinned Niamh to the wall, sticking her fingers under her dress and then right into Niamh’s face. The surprise made her draw her breath, and there was no mistake about that aroma. Oi, wotcha!

“Feel that?” Now, Niamh definitely did not argue. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to miss this, but promise me you won’t let her take it too far. She’ll listen to you.”

Having said that, it appeared as if at least parts of the excess steam had blown off Theresa. Smiling weakly, she smoothed a few creases out on her dress and opened the door. Niamh licked her upper lip like a confused kitten and tried to uncurl her toes inside her shoes. Well, I’ve made one bad promise too many today, so I guess I’ll just enjoy the show, then.

***

Things took another little unexpected turn an hour or so later when Alex announced that ‘the girls’ were supposed to take care of their own preparations while she would get all the assistance she needed from André. They were shown into a room next to the old workshop where everything was supposed to be ready for them. Niamh noticed that someone had tied a red ribbon around the things laid out for her. There didn’t seem to be much, though, which made her curious.

“It seems like you have to give me some serious help with all this.” Theresa sighed while rummaging about in her corner. There were some things there that looked weird, Niamh noticed. “I don’t want this to take all night, and I feel it’s not a good idea to let ma’am wait either.”

She held up a suit designed to cover her from the neck to the waist, but instead of ordinary sleeves it featured something looking like deflated penguin wings. There were a few straps and many more eyelets to adjust it to a very restrictive fit, and Niamh noticed that the rubber it was made out of was of the same heavy quality as the straitjackets André put together.

“What’s that?” Niamh giggled. “How are we supposed to...”

“It’s a stolen idea, that’s what it is.” Theresa puffed, putting the heavy, black piece down again to show Niamh. “It’s a butterfly top. Arms folded like this...” She placed her hands on her clavicles, “...Slide into it, let someone buckle you up and pray you won’t have to scratch your nose or go to the loo. These come first, though. I’ll think I’ll manage. Perhaps we should get you into your gear before we start messing with the top.”

“Yeah...” Niamh mumbled, watching Theresa playfully juggle two massive-looking toys and a pair of transparent cycle shorts. A closer scrutiny revealed a black pump-up dildo the size of a prizewinning vegetable- in its deflated state- with a little optional plastic ring at the base with two tiny wires attached to it. Then, there was a nastily wide acrylic plug, also equipped with wiring. Niamh’s face puckered as she imagined what could be done with them. It wasn’t really her thing, with the possible exception of the electrostim features, which she had found oddly appealing. Perhaps she could go as far as to say that the anal plug didn’t discourage her either, had it only been a bit slimmer. Or not. In any case, she spurned the oversized phallic intruder without thinking twice. It must be like a birth simulator when fully blown up, she thought.

“You don’t like them?” Theresa asked. “Don’t you use toys?”

“Not like that bloody baobab. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Depends on where you put it. Look, you don’t have to worry about these. I don’t mind if you watch when I insert them,“ Theresa winked, already getting undressed in a hurry, “just find me the lube. It’s a bit chilly in here and I tend to...” She made a slurping sound and clenched her fist over the top of the plug, making it pop out of her grip.

 Niamh didn’t watch until all the wires and the long tube with a bulb in the end were properly arranged via the two apertures in the crotchpiece of the shorts. The crossword puzzle in her head only contained synonyms to ‘ripping soft tissue’. 

Theresa burped loudly and started laughing. There was something sweet about the way she tried to cover her breasts while showing off a pair of rubber shorts packing some serious heat, Niamh thought.

“Oh, I’ve got the perfect diet here. These buggers don’t make you feel half full, I tell you. Now it’s your turn. Chop-chop.”

Niamh carefully picked up the single latex garment placed on the bench for her, letting the silk ribbon drop to the floor. She gave Theresa a questioning look.

“This isn’t mine. I haven’t seen it before.”

“Worn only on one occasion by a model. Your size exactly, if I still have an eye for measurements, which I hope. Try it on.”

Niamh unfolded the suit on top of the bench and took a closer look at it. It was a capri-style catsuit with three quarter-length arms and legs, a neat high collar and reinforcements around the waist reminding Niamh of a small corset or a cincher. It shone in a peculiar dark blueberry purple, already nearly wet with dressing aid and shiner.

“You weren’t planning on giving it to me, were you?” Niamh asked a little hesitantly. “How do you get all these cool colours? It’s...”

“Not exactly give, Niv, sorry. That one’s supposed to be on eBay next week, so you have to place a bid like everyone else. You’ve already had your presents, by the way.” Theresa said. “If you insist on being that gorgeous for long, you’ll bloody well put me out of business with all the freebies I give away.”

Gorgeous, eh?  Niamh thought, and continued undressing in a bit more self-conscious way, half turned so that she could keep an eye on Theresa.    

“That’s more like a gift to me, I suppose; getting the chance to see you wearing it.”

She stood still watching Niamh slide into the suit without wasting any more time chatting, closely following her every move. Whether it was the cold room or the almost tummy-turning tension that made her shudder was impossible to tell, but Niamh noticed how her hands kept wandering nervously over her skin. If she would give her any overtly inviting signals now, she would have to fight her off with a stick.

The fact that she only needed help with the back zip and not anything else, like extensive polishing or donning various paraphernalia which would mean slightly too much contact for comfort, provided a moment’s respite for Niamh. She was pretty quick to help Theresa getting into the butterfly top to secure her hands and stop her from making any mistakes that way. It was rather easily done, and even Theresa seemed to become more relaxed once she was in it.

When Niamh helped her to get some of her hair out of the way, since it tended to get stuck in the top buckle, she could sense something that her intuition had probably tried to tell her from the very moment they entered the room. Someone else is watching. Where from? It would be like Alex not to miss the opportunity to spy a little, she thought, perhaps measuring out appropriate punishment if they misbehaved in any way. Normally, this would have appealed to the little exhibitionist in her, but now it felt awkward and slightly unpleasant. The only thing left to do now was to wait for either of the other two to let them up into the playroom, and Niamh hoped it wouldn’t be more than a few minutes.

“Uh-oh...” Theresa squeaked, starting to shift uneasily on her side of the bench. “Oh, that’s so typical...”

“Don’t tell me you have to go.”

“I really do. Help me. You remember where the lav was, dontcha? Right down there to the left, and I hope the bastard hasn’t locked it from the outside...”

Niamh groaned a little to herself, rolling her eyes. Was it like this to have kids?

“Shouldn’t we get you loose or something first?”

“No time. Just steer me over there. Like now, Niamh, or it’ll get wet in here.”

It was no problem getting Theresa to the toilet. She could still walk pretty unhindered with the plugs in place, and the top didn’t affect her balance much. The real snag appeared when Niamh guided her backwards inside, aiming for the seat after flipping the lid open. She realised that there were a few more obstructions than she had reckoned with.

“Please just pull the pants down, will you? Never mind the bloody things hanging out.” Theresa pleaded, already on the way to sit down.

She made a brave attempt, but managed only to pull the shorts down a little bit before Theresa bumped down on the seat and let go of it. A thick, nearly colourless stream spattered on the inside of the shorts, spreading around the base of the dildo still firmly lodged within her only to end up both in- and outside of the bowl.

Niamh smacked her tongue apologetically and tried to reach for the roll on the basin when she noticed how Theresa tried not to laugh. She was looking back at her with an incongruously naughty look on her face, creating moist, rubbery flapping noises by moving her thighs together. Oh great. Can’t blame her for not trying everything, though.

“Oop-sey.”  Theresa sniggered. “Now what?”

The immediate response came with the sudden cold draft from the door leading to the loft. Niamh could feel it, and hear the distinct clicking of heels on the floor tiles in the other room. I owe you one, ma’am.

“Time!” was the only word she needed to hear to get going. She leaned forward and hoisted Theresa up on her feet, promptly pulling the wet shorts up tight again. This time she made sure that it felt when she snapped the rubber on her skin.

***

Alex was nowhere to be seen as they passed through the temporary dressing room and continued up the steep wooden stairs to André’s ‘little den’, as it had been described to her before. She recognised only a bit of it, since nearly every item had been removed. There was a faint but familiar smell of lemony cleanser, and the place was very differently lit. An area the size of a smaller room was bathed in warm, reddish light, and on the little stage there were a few things already set up. A pair of ordinary chairs, looking a bit out of place; what looked like a large cabinet covered with a white sheet and in the centre, something drawn from some designer’s worst hangover nightmare. It was probably meant as some kind of furniture you were supposed to sit on, Niamh thought, if you were deranged enough to think that anthills made perfect pillows as well. It seemed to have had an early career as a dentist’s chair, but now it was revamped and stripped to its bare essence, devoid of any residue of soppy cushiness.  

“I’ll join you in a minute, sweetie.” said a familiar voice from out of a dark corner. “Make sure that Theresa is ready by then. You’re clever enough to figure out where I want her.” There was a short silence followed by a feeble crackling noise of wrapping paper. “Oh, and don’t forget the gag. I think I picked one of her favourite ones.”

The thick brown leather restraints used to fasten the legs of the poor victim to the lower leg rest on the chair were the type Niamh had seen only once or twice before, probably taken from some institution somewhere. There was no way in hell anyone would be able to free themselves without the aid of a chainsaw if the key to the massive padlocks was suddenly lost. The same could be said about the thigh and waist belts. They could probably be used to haul an elephant out of bed. She took her time strapping Theresa down tight, making sure that she couldn’t shift too much. If she insisted in stuffing each nether orifice with toys, she might as well enjoy them good and proper, Niamh thought as she guided the little tube and the wires to the front of the chair.

The gag of choice was hanging on the chair frame, and she watched Theresa with interest as she a little less gently plopped the red ball into her mouth and fastened the harness around her head. Big one. Neat. Theresa gave her an accusing look and snorted loudly, sending tiny drops of saliva and snot through the air. Niamh put her tongue out and smiled, taking a few steps back to signal that she was go flight.

Only slightly dampened by the canvas laid out on the floor, the echo of high heels against hardwood tiles rang through the relative silence. Out of the shadows, Alex appeared like a shimmering jet black creature of someone’s wicked fantasy. She was fairly modestly dressed, wearing one of her favourite long-sleeved tops and a plain hobble skirt with stockings underneath, austere but tasteful stilettos and short gloves. The metal zips over her breasts seemed to float in a moving ink cloud against the dark background, and Niamh thought she could spot something glowing on her left hand as well. However, it was the sight of her face that made Niamh feel weak at the knees.

André had added his very special touch to what already could make a sculptor envious, discreetly highlighting her eyes, lips and cheekbones to match the way she had arranged her hair, which appeared to be rather geisha-inspired. The result was something out of the ordinary, and Niamh couldn’t take her eyes of her. She instinctively felt that the moment called for a little extra effort, and dropped a curtsy.

“Ma’am.”

The initial reaction from Alex lasted only a fraction of a second. Niamh saw the twitch of amusement play in the corner of her mouth before it grew into a heart-warming smile, although her eyes remained frighteningly dark. Instead of scolding her for being overly obsequious, she extended her hand in an old-fashioned greeting, letting Niamh kiss it briefly before ruffling her hair a little. It was hard to resist the notion to kneel before her, but Niamh settled for bowing her head, which seemed to be met with some approval. There was a barely audible chuckle from Alex before she spoke.

“Everything’s set, I see. Good girl.” Alex said in a voice that appeared to play havoc with Theresa’s nerves. She pulled her restraints and grunted loudly. “What a simply lovely outfit she picked for you. Not too skimpy, very stylish. Lekker.”

Alex motioned to Niamh to sit down on one of the chairs. Then, she slowly moved towards Theresa in a thoughtful, dreamy manner. She checked the bonds and moved a finger across the ball gag, smearing saliva on Theresa’s cheek. It was amazing to see the reaction. Despite sitting a few yards away, Niamh could clearly see the terror growing in her eyes. She desperately tried to get away from the caressing fingers, as if they caused her pain. It all made Niamh’s heart beat faster.

Instead of uncovering the large cabinet to the left of the dentist’s chair, Alex pointed towards a small table, barely visible in the gloom, placed against the back wall.

“Sweetie, can you please bring me the things André left for me?”

Niamh bounced up and scuttled off to the table. She was a little puzzled to find a very expensive-looking digital camera, and what looked like a hard case for pool cues.

“You know how to use that, don’t you?” Alex asked, handing Niamh the camera. “Why don’t you take a few shots of little Terry here before we get busy?”

Before and after shots, Niamh thought, but didn’t question anything. Besides, it was more than a bit fun to try to capture Theresa’s screwed-up face. She didn’t seem to approve of the idea at all.

“Please take your seat again.” Alex hummed after a series of pictures taken. “Feel free to snap away when you feel like doing so, if you take care not to include too much of me, dear.” She placed the case on top of the covered cabinet and opened it up, but hesitated and turned around. “How silly of me to forget, dear; I must be getting old. There’s a tripod to put the camera on four steps behind you on the floor, and you’re supposed to attach the two little thingies as well. André was very specific about that.”

Niamh started to feel somewhat befuddled. She attached the tripod to the camera in a blink and found the two thingies after getting the settings right. One proved to be a modern wireless version of a remote shutter release, and the other one she thought would trigger either a softbox flash or perhaps a backlight range when she pressed the button. It all seemed bizarrely professional, but still there was an element of plain weirdness about it as well. She wondered why they made so much fuss over a few pictures. Theresa seemed to be deeply offended by it, at least. Niamh began wondering if all of it was part of Alex’ little scheme, but shifted focus when she noticed what was taken out of the case. She sat down very carefully.  

Theresa started to wriggle when she became aware of the thin, brown cane Alex was playfully flexing between her fingers. There was something pensive about her as she moved towards the chair, lightly touching the bare skin on Theresa’s thighs with the tip of the cane.

“Yes, she has taste, our little Terry. Again, my compliments on the choice on that little number. Wonderful. I might just order one.”

Theresa snorted violently as a light flick of the cane hit her kneecap.

“We actually seem to have the same taste in women, too. Hm? Wouldn’t you say so, dear?” Alex planted another little flick on the left calf, cheerfully humming.

“Ma’am?”

“Did she try anything inappropriate in there with you?”

Niamh quickly went throught all possible options, bearing the possibility of having been watched in mind. There was only one way to do this, she realised.

“I think so... ma’am.” Keep it up. Don’t make a face.

She could hear the cane swish once, twice; and then Theresa started to whine loudly. Alex pinched her nose shut until she calmed down, sniffing and shivering.

“Tell me, sweetie. Did she make an attempt to seduce you?”

“I think she tried to make me touch her.” Niamh answered, feeling peculiarly inspired. “She pissed herself on purpose and tried to make me clean her up.”

Three quick lashes left thin, red streaks on Theresa’s milky white thighs. She seemed ready to bite her gag in two, howling with the sudden pain.

“Well, did she succeed?”

“Of course not, ma’am.”

“Good girl.” Alex took a few steps back. “Pity she’s such a filthy little slag. What a waste of talent and good taste. Picture, please.”

***

Even though the flashes behind her were suitably dampened by means of boxes and umbrellas, the bright wave created funny colourful patterns behind her eyelids every time she made them go whoompf. She took six shots of Theresa while Alex busied herself with uncovering the cabinet, and felt quite pleased with being the fly on the wall for once. A fly using high-end photo gear.

“Please pay attention now, dear.” she heard Alex say briskly. Now, she could see what had been hidden under the sheet, and she immediately recognised the device Theresa had tried using on her the last time they were here placed on the centre left in the large cabinet. It was basically the same contraption, but it had been taken out of the aluminium case and was now fed by two large, yellow scuba tanks fitted on a trolley underneath, instead of only one. The mixer circuit looked as menacing as ever, and someone seemed to have rigged it with something. One of the brown bottles contained what looked like a piece of cloth. Yet, what really sent Niamh’s mind boggling was the addition to the ‘user’ end of the machine.

“You were already aware of that your little admirer here added a few options to this equipment some time ago,” Alex continued, pointing at one out of three smaller cylinders coupled to a secondary circuit consisting of three parallel black rubber tubes, connected to an ingenious mixer valve mounted straight on the outlet conduit. “What she did was to connect this- which, as you might see from there- is Entonox as it says on the bottle. So far, so good.” She started to unravel the black, corrugated tubing hanging from the nasty-looking rebreather bag on the far end of the conduit. It was several feet longer than Niamh recalled. “Do you know where things went wrong?”

“No, ma’am.” Niamh stuttered, watching the display with apprehensive interest. There was a small but powerful blacksmith working double shifts in her chest.

“Entonox is quite harmless, whilst this is not.” Alex stated, tapping the second, dark blue bottle, which was rather smaller than the other two. “Now,” she continued, addressing Theresa in a voice that could cut glass. “what the hell gave you the idea to play with nitrous oxide intended for cars?”

Theresa looked away, if possible looking even more flushed than before. Alex swiftly whipped the tubing out and attached the familiar surgical facemask, seemingly very irritated. Without further ado, she forced it onto Theresa’s face and secured the harness with a few sharp tugs.

“To think that you willingly would endanger the health of my precious girl like that. How irresponsible! I am not pleased at all with your behaviour!”

Niamh watched with growing excitement how Alex connected the loose wires to extensions leading to a black box sitting underneath another on the bottom shelf of the cabinet. She flipped a tiny switch, and little LED lamps twinkled in the dark.

“There.” Alex sighed, turning around. “Could you please go and see if André has arranged the refreshments yet. I’m absolutely dying for a little brandy, sweetie.”

Niamh hesitated as she noticed how Theresa was shaking her head, staring at them as if she tried to say something. Then, she saw the rebreather bag deflate and collapse for each grunt coming from her.

“The air, ma’am.” she whispered, pointing to the device.

“What? Oh, I’m sorry...” Alex mumbled, slowly walking back. “Which one is it now, dear? I don’t seem to remember that either.”   

The tormented squealing noises coming from Theresa felt like tiny icicles in Niamh’s ears, and the few seconds Alex’ fingers lingered at the pillar valve knob felt like ages, but she didn’t dare to move. This is just her courting, having a laugh. She’ll get worse.

 Air started flowing through the system of pipes and tubes, and Theresa imbibed as much as she could get in deep, ear-deafeningly hissing gulps. Opening up the little case again, Alex put the cane back and produced a red and black rod with a large handle and two brass tips in the other end from it. Oh yeah, here it comes…

“Sweetie? Just a finger of brandy, Indian tonic and two ice cubes. Don’t stir it.”

  There was a shuffling sound from the backdrop, and a recognizable tinkling of glass. Niamh realised that André hadn’t been far away the whole time they had spent in there, and that felt both reassuring and perhaps a tad strange. Surely, he could have no interest in watching what they were doing, or could he? Was he there to enjoy himself, assist them or step in if there was an emergency? Maybe all of it? Not unlikely, given the potential of Alex at full throttle, but there was no idea in asking him, she thought. Instead, she turned around to get Alex her snifter at the same instant the muffled cry from Theresa, receiving a little appetizer, reached her ears.

***

It was a little unsettling to watch Alex leisurely circling the chair in her gleaming black apparel, occasionally closing in on her victim with the cattle prod. Niamh jumped a little, nearly spilling the small cup of icy cold water André had offered her, every time she heard the zip when Alex decided to press the trigger. At the same time, she became aware of how very excited she felt, and what she was wearing. The snazzy suit turned out to be very comfortable when the rubber had warmed up, and Niamh shifted a little to get a better feel, rubbing her thighs together. She ran a finger across the length of her left side, resting at the hip as if to decide the next move.

God, is she beautiful. Intimidating as Alex was right then, Niamh still felt a pang of jealousy. It should have been her in that chair, not bloody Terry Whiny Wetpants. Perhaps she would be a little more careful with her if she was allowed to satisfy her in return?

An unintentional gasp escaped her as she witnessed how Alex slowly moved the tip of the prod along Theresa’s trembling thigh as she was pleading for mercy. The hissing and clicking of her breath sounded desperately ragged by now, and she was probably about to faint from hyperventilation already. Niamh tried to move behind one of the chairs to be able to sneak a few fingers where they were needed the most, but Alex detected her little movement.

“A few more pictures of this fine mess, please, dear! Do keep your fingers in check, won’t you?” she boomed, moving a bit to the side. She reached for her drink and took a tiny sip. “Then you may come and join us here.”

Niamh dutifully let the camera capture what now looked like a very distressed young woman, taking great care in getting the pictures as good as possible just for the sheer joy of prolonging the ordeal. Then, she expectantly tiptoed forward.

“Here.” Alex said, handing her the prod. “I’d very much like you to tell our girl here how disappointed you are with her lack of responsibility.” She leaned herself against the cabinet, flicking a speck of dust from her gloved hand. “Make sure she understands what it means to cross you, dear.”

Niamh mouthed a ‘thank you, ma’am’ as her heart somersaulted in her chest. She blinked a few times and turned towards Theresa, staring back at her in surprise. It was as if she forgot to breathe for a moment as the device fell silent. Niamh leaned over her, moving close to her right ear. She could sense the full palette of scents hitting her nostrils as she did so; sweat, piss, rubber and adrenaline, which made her feel dizzy.

  “No,” she hissed in Theresa’s ear. “You didn’t get off easy.”

There was an approving humming noise from Alex as Niamh stuffed the tip of the rod down her shorts and fired twice, singeing the little triangle of hair still left above the tiny piece of sensitive skin covering her tickler. Theresa burst into tears, and Niamh cooled off for a moment. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to contain herself otherwise. Right there and then, she was glad that Alex was keeping an eye on them. What the fuck just happened here?

She continued with giving her only very brief little zaps here and there on the legs, but there was no real reaction. Theresa sat slumped in her bonds, shivering slightly with exhaustion. Fighting the instinct to press the trigger and shove the prod where it would stir some feelings, she looked at Alex for support.

Before she knew it, Theresa sprang back to life with a violent snort, trying to get the mask off by shaking her head. When she settled down a bit, they heard Alex chuckle contentedly.

“Only a taste of her own medicine, sweetie.” she said, tapping on the suspicious-looking brown bottle with her fingers. “Ammonia. Ask her if she wants another hit, won’t you?”

Theresa howled in her mask, struggling ferociously to make herself understood.

“No? Fine, then.” Alex sighed, swirling the rest of the brandy in her glass. “Well, enough of that. Put that thing back in the box, dear. I’ll show you something you might like to try out for yourself later.”

***

The little black electrotherapy box had six channels and numerous settings to choose from. It was quite interesting, Niamh thought, just to sit and play with the dials to see what happened. She could make Theresa giggle and shiver a little, moan with pleasure or try to bend double, yelling helplessly. It was like having the cuckoo’s nest version of a Fleischmann model railway, with a full-scale diorama but without any infrastructure save the gas and electricity lines. Admittedly, this was a bit more fun than ruining her brother’s expensive toys, but the outcome measured in pain inflicted was probably quite similar.

Alex enjoyed the little divertissement, and seemed very pleased with her apprentice. She used the occasion to relax a little, caressing Niamh a little distractedly. When she moved her gloved fingers over the bare skin on her left arm, Niamh noticed the special ring adorning her hand. It looked very much like the one she had received, with the difference that this was obviously designed to be worn on a thin glove. Alex must have had three made, but why? What was the reason to wear one tonight?

She tried to ask Alex by gently touching the ring and turning to look her in the eye, but the only answer she received was a ravishing smile. A hint of a rose-coloured glow on her cheeks intrigued Niamh. She didn’t have time to ponder any further, as Alex furtively removed the control box from her lap and swaggered off slowly towards the increasingly frustrated Theresa, leaving a trail of the heavenly heady mixed scent of latex and exclusive perfume.

“Come here, dear. I’m not done with her yet.” Alex cooed, immediately catching Theresa’s attention by giving the little rubber bulb hanging down between her legs a few pumps. She beckoned Niamh to crouch in front of the chair and handed her the box again. “The only thing I ask for is for you to follow my instructions. Agreed?”

“Yes.” Niamh croaked, feeling a little uncomfortable with seeing the four round, red marks beneath the transparent rubber shorts. It must have hurt really bad. “Yes, ma’am.”

Alex pulled a chair next to the cabinet and made herself comfortable. She reached behind the three optional gas cylinders and turned a few knobs, which created a brief, high-pitched whistling noise against the intermittent hissing from Theresa’s breathing. Niamh thought she could see how she adjusted something before she seemed satisfied.

“Now, she does seem to enjoy her little toys.” she said. “Let’s see how much she likes them, shan’t we? Give her some juice, dear.”

Niamh willingly turned two dials until she could almost hear the tic-tic-tic sound from the electric pulses shooting through the plug and ring Theresa wore. She looked up and saw her eyes widen as she grew more and more tense.

“Pump her up a little as well. She seems a bit floppy, doesn’t she?”

After six squeezes on the bulb, Niamh noticed how the base of the dildo ballooned under the shorts. There wasn’t a single noise from her victim apart from her laboured breathing, but she could see how she frowned, trying not to sit directly on either the plug or the dildo. It wasn’t easy for her. Niamh looked at Alex, who seemed mildly amused and not very interested in what was going on. Oh, this is when it gets hairy.

“Just to let you know what you were getting yourself into, I will show you what would happen to your little playmate if you actually decided to muck about with this kit.” Alex said flatly and turned the valve to cut out the primary circuit. Now, the contents of the blue cylinder and the one next to it rapidly filled the rebreather bag. “More power, sweetie. Another five or so on the dildo.”

Instead of totally losing control of herself, screaming madly with the pain; there was only muffled grunting noises coming from under the mask as Theresa slowly seemed to go limp again. Her breathing decreased, and when Niamh looked up she noticed how her eyes were half shut and unfocused despite the sharp shocks that were rapidly buzzing through her lower regions, making her muscles contract repeatedly by reflex. Staring accusingly at Alex, Niamh mouthed turn it off for fuck’s sake, but the answer was just a huge wink and a finger across the mouth. What was she really up to?

She kept a wary eye on Theresa, who was slowly drifting off to somewhere else, moaning happily. Alex returned and pushed Niamh aside gently but firmly, checking the vital signs of her torture victim, now decidedly delirious. She swayed, tilting backwards, only supported by the thick straps and the butterfly top. As she plopped against the remainder of the back rest with a strangled gargle, Alex turned to whisper to Niamh, who was feeling really upset.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. Everything’s under control.”

“She’s suffocating! You said that shit was vile! What have you done?”

“She’ll be fine... but in for another nasty surprise in just a minute, dear.”

“How?” Niamh felt the chill pass through her. More tricks. Fell right into it again.

“Our cook,” Alex said, raising her now empty glass to the shadows with a knowing nod, “is a very resourceful man, who seems to be able to perform magic when it comes to correcting mistakes and avoiding disasters waiting to happen.” She looked Niamh straight in the eye and pointed towards the cabinet. “That, my dear girl, is genuine anaesthetic equipment- oxygen and nitrous oxide- and though not to be trifled with, it’s a hell of a lot safer than your girlfriend’s gadgets.”

“She’s out, Alex.”

“Oh, not yet by a few minutes or so.” Alex gave Niamh a little hug, squeezing her cheek against the warm, slick rubber on her breast. “You’re so worried. I’ll tell you what;” she continued whispering, guiding Niamh towards the cabinet. “when I say so, you turn the blue knob back to zero, and the green one up as far as it goes. All right? You’ll be amazed with what will happen, if I manage to do my bit right.”

“All right, then.”

“You fell out of character in a quite interesting way there, sweetie. What happened to politeness?” Alex added with a chuckle. “We’re among people now, girl.”

Niamh thought that she could hear a hoarse chortle from the shadows. Someone back there was enjoying himself, obviously. She glanced around the set: Alex, holding the control box in one hand while resting the other one in an arrogant manner on her hip, looking absolutely out of this world; and Theresa, totally subdued by the gas, trussed up like a turkey. Somehow it resembled a circus stage. So, send in the clowns.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“Very good. Go ahead now. On my mark; three, two, one...go!”

Her fingers felt a bit numb, but she managed to switch to only oxygen within a blink. She watched Alex stand at the ready as Theresa began to stir again, and noticed how she frowned when the toys gradually made their presence felt for real.

It all happened very fast. Suddenly Theresa jumped like a coil spring, shrieking with pain. Alex quickly adjusted the settings on the box to dampen the impact and moved her right hand to Theresa’s crotch, deflating the dildo a little as she began massaging the sore spot. The effect was amazing. Before Niamh had a chance to think, she witnessed how Theresa instantly softened, and her cries revealed that it no longer hurt at all.

Alex called for her to come close. Niamh felt relieved that she wanted her to be part of the grand final instead of feeding the green monster any further. Alex guided her hand to the right spot and lodged it there with her own.

It was an amazing feeling to be embraced, kissed and fondled as they simultaneously brought Theresa to orgasm by subtle means, and Niamh felt like she was moving in a dream, sniffing as much of Alex as she possibly could. She barely reflected on that there had been several whoomps from the flashes during the last minutes, seemingly without anyone standing behind the camera. Just go ahead, boyo. I’d really, really like to see those pics. 

Chapter 10: Under the Influence

Although the hour was still early, the stars were already twinkling in the sky, and near the reddening horizon a white crescent moon was shining like a bright scythe. Autumn was soon turning into winter, and the fresh air felt frigid and damp in her face as she tried leaning out the small window to watch the blue hour colour display. There was something saddening about how the whole world fell silent waiting for the next spring, but as long as there was enough light you could always enjoy the divine canvas with all its magnificent colours.

Samhraidh… atá imithe anois, Niamh tried for herself. Summer is gone. Her Irish was slowly slipping away from her, as if it didn’t really want to be a part of her anymore. She wondered why her mother hadn’t kept it alive at home. There must have been some reason.

She felt a warm hand on her lower back, and a familiar voice burred behind her.

“Please come in before you catch a cold, mèche-noire. I brought some coffee for you.”

“Nice to see you surface for once, Andy Pandy.”

“Thank you.” André laughed, handing her the cup and saucer. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“How’s Terry coming along?” Niamh grimaced as her lips grazed the searing hot crema. She wondered if it said ‘tasty lava java’ in some foreign language somewhere on that tin.

“She’s ready to... you know, go on. Five minutes’ rest was all she needed. Madame knows what she’s doing.”

Oh yes. So do you. The caffeine went straight to her head and swept away the little melancholy left in her mind. She took another swig, bracing herself.

“Do you think we play too rough?”

André gave her his best cherub look, leaning against a crossbeam behind him. Niamh could clearly perceive the sinewy features under his black turtleneck sweater. 

“I think you’re asking the wrong person, that’s what I think.”

Niamh shivered, clasping the hot cup in her hands. The thin layer of latex in her suit wasn’t meant for keeping her warm near an open window this time of year. André quickly shut it behind her and draped a blanket over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” Niamh put in, “thought I won’t be able to keep it on for long.” She took a few steps away from the cold, wooden planks onto an old rug that felt fuzzy under her bare feet. “Alex was right. You’re a resourceful gentleman, full of surprises.”

“Tu parles. But she was right about Tee’s taste in clothing, though. That really looks good on you.”

She let her fingers travel across the short sleeve down to the elbow, where it seemed to merge seamlessly into her flesh. Blueberry and creamy custard, she thought a little self-indulgently. Indeed, it seemed to be custom-made for her, and the quality was such that it seemed to have a fluid consistency. She bent down carefully, wagging her rear.

“Yeah? Would you like to better the shine on my bum, then?”

“It’s good enough as it is,” André laughed silently. “Don’t worry if anything happens to it, either. The twin is sitting in the workshop. We always bring a little insurance to the photoshoots.” He took the empty cup from Niamh and turned it upside down on the saucer, looking a bit elsewhere with a faint smile on his face. “If I had my say, it would be yours now. Let’s get back and see what they are up to now, all right?”

* * *

The end of the narrow passageway was lit by the lamps behind the little stage, and Niamh saw Theresa sitting in one of the chairs, looking relaxed but battered. She was still wearing the heavy rubber butterfly top, which made her appearance rather interesting to watch, and the transparent shorts. Apparently, Alex had been kind enough to remove the anal plug. Otherwise, Niamh thought, she’d have a hard time looking that casual. The bulb dangling from a thin tube between her legs told her that she at least was still partially stuffed, which was a bit surprising given the thorough dilation she had suffered earlier.

Water droplets still sparkled all over her upper body, and again, Niamh felt a tinge of guilt. After she had finally stopped coming, which took quite some time, Alex had left her to purge the gas from her system with both circuits on full blast for a few minutes. When she had finally lifted the mask from her face to rinse it and help her to get the obstructing gag out, Theresa had begged for water. Her mouth was parched, and her tongue seemed swollen. Niamh had stepped in like a good Samaritan and drenched her with the soda siphon from the drink tray. It had been fun until Alex had chased her away with the cane after getting wet.

“Eh bin, time for me to disappear.” she heard André say behind her as she entered the room again. She saw Alex standing next to the camera tripod, eating a pear. The empty glass in her other hand told Niamh that another considerable quantity of fine brandy had now vanished from the bottle.

“Ah, there you are.” she said. “Would you please go and find me some polish. I seem to have made a mess again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Niamh answered, not wanting to miss her cue again. It probably wasn’t a great idea to give Alex any more excuses to having her flogged. The good thing was that André, the magic stagehand, had probably stashed away some of that stuff quite near the set as well. She wouldn’t have to look for long.

Right behind where the lights were rigged, she spotted a toolbox, which proved to be filled with different useful products, both for getting the sparkle back on someone’s outfit and cleaning up the whole damn place after the rumpus. Niamh found clinical swabs, wet tissues, Lysol and bleach among the cleansing products. That, at least, proved that she actually had asked the wrong person on the subject of playing rough. Only fecking Luminol and half a forensic kit missing. She grabbed a piece of shammy and a can of silicone spray from the box and scuttled back to Alex before she had finished her pear.

“Oh, that’s much better,” Alex hummed as Niamh carefully began buffing her up. She took great care getting the proper sheen on her generous behind, and lingered extra long at interesting places she thought were in need of a little preening. It was gradually getting harder as she closed in on her chest, after giving the gloves and sleeves a good working-over; not only because Alex was looking like a living artefact of an ebony goddess standing six feet six and a good half in her stilettos, but that she decided to show her affection in such a distracting way.

Niamh felt nimble rubberised fingertips teasing her nipples, tickling her below the armpits, touching her wherever they could reach. Alex let the tip of her tongue lightly travel across her upper lip, and the very sight of that felt like a soft punch in the belly for Niamh. The spray can slipped between her fingers and rolled away on the floor.

“Excuse me, m...” she began, reaching down to catch it only to be stopped halfway by Alex, grabbing hold of her shoulders.

“Leave it, sweetie. Come here instead.”

She didn’t know where to put her hands when Alex leaned down and swept her away with a magnificent kiss. Still holding on to the shammy, she nearly keeled over with the surprise. Drop your guard and she serves you one right where it feels. Niamh gratefully inhaled the scent of Alex again, trying not to dribble. She felt an urge to ruin her own work by getting busy on Alex with all means available, and right then she felt up to taking a good hiding just to get in under the skirt for a few minutes. It would no doubt be worth it.

As if she had read her mind, Alex raised her hands to her breasts and opened up the zips on her top, very slowly and deliberately. Then, making sure Theresa wouldn’t miss a single thing, she let Niamh come close.

“There we go.” Alex whispered a little nonchalantly, casting a glance to her right as she flashed a blinding smile and winked. There was sound beggaring description from poor Theresa, and a thumping of feet stomping against canvas.

“Poor you.” Niamh heard her say as she felt fingers running through her hair. She had her mouth full of sweet and sour-tasting soft flesh, and wasn’t about to let go in the first place. “You have been helping me all evening without getting almost anything in return. Isn’t it time you got some time off to relax and enjoy yourself a bit? Hm? What does Terry say about that?”

“Yeah.” Theresa croaked hoarsely. She had exercised her vocal chords a little too much when wearing the gag and mask. “Of course...ma’am.” she added after another side glance from Alex, this time a bit darker.   

“Very good then; thank you so much, sweetie...” Alex sighed, pulling Niamh away by her ears. “...that will be enough for now. Would you please sit down in the special chair so we can proceed?”

“Ma’am!” Niamh whined, but didn’t wait for a reprimand. She obediently stationed herself beside the chair, but shuffled her feet on her way there as a childish protest.

“Please sit. I won’t strap you down just yet.”

Alex carefully covered her breasts again, taking her time putting the glass- now suitably decorated with pear- and the spray can away. There was some noise coming from behind the stage again. Niamh thought she could hear faint music playing.

“I was thinking of making little Terry happy as well. She’s had such a rough evening, and we can’t have anyone being sad right now, can we? No. Therefore I’ve decided that she’s eventually going to have her will, or at least part of it as far as I can tell, with you, sweetie.”

Theresa looked back and forth a few times, not really ready to believe what she just heard. Niamh rolled her eyes but remained silent. Oh, grand. Bring it on, then.

* * *

It would have better if there had been silence after Alex had left them both to look for whatever she had in mind for them this time, Niamh thought. Now, there was this extremely annoying, low-key music playing in the background, and she couldn’t make out what it was. It sounded like some kind of instrumental cocktail bossa-jazz with the emphasis on mental, not at all like the good Brazilian stuff she knew from when she was a kid, but rather something from a nastily distressing instructional film in school. She wondered how it fitted into the picture, since it created a bizarre waiting-room feeling, which wasn’t pleasant at all.

Theresa appeared to be extremely bothered by it, for some reason. There was no use in asking her right now, but it would be interesting to find out why a little later. She wondered how a simple little plan could turn into a full-blown spectacle like this, knowing it wasn’t going to come to an end anytime soon. Suddenly, there was a slight clatter from the shadows.

“Well, well, well. Here we might have something interesting for both of you. I had a feeling you were more or less expecting this instead of what you’ve got so far, hm?”

Alex paraded into the light holding up a black straitjacket, and the instant, guttural noise from Theresa sent another chilly streak travelling through Niamh. Although she was certain that Alex was not going to let her have her way, she didn’t even want her out of her restraints when she sounded like that. Poor little Terry was wound up like a magnet’s coil by now, and Niamh finally began to understand what Alex had meant when she talked about trust and knowing people.

The straitjacket was somewhat different from the one she had tried on. It didn’t seem so brutally heavy and thick, and it definitely was a bit shinier with blue trim along the seams. Perhaps a bit more feminine, but equally as constrictive. The buckles and straps flapping and jingling about it didn’t exactly signal ‘soft and cuddly’. Niamh particularly noticed the two straps replacing the solid crotchpiece, allowing full access to private parts. She began to worry about how long Alex would have her wearing it, and what she would do with her meanwhile.

“A beautiful piece of work, isn’t it?” asked Alex, holding up a sleeve. “Mes compliments au chef. I’m simply amazed with how well it’s crafted. Don’t you think it’s absolutely stunning?”

“Yes, ma’am...” Niamh managed, while there was only a brief groan form the other chair. She wondered if Theresa was still befuddled by the gas, even if it seemed unlikely.

“It has left me in a bit of a quandary, though. I sincerely hope you might be able to help me out here...Theresa. Terry?”

“Mh...ma’am?”

“Do you think it would be better if she wore nothing underneath it, or should we risk ruining that lovely little jumpsuit of yours? Best to have her undressed, wouldn’t you agree?”

Niamh could see how this would end even before Theresa started nodding like a lunatic.

“Yeah. Off ‘ith it.”

“You girls seem to forget your manners as soon as you get a little excited.” Alex smiled, bending Niamh forward to unzip her. “I’m getting soft with old age, as it seems. Take care you don’t push your luck too far, though.”

The suit peeled off her skin much easier that she’d imagined, but there was an uncannily cold feeling making her shiver as she got naked. However, it wasn’t the temperature in the room as much as the two pairs of ravenous eyes measuring her from head to toe that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She couldn’t really understand why Alex wanted her to strip down like that, and all she really wanted right then was a bathing towel to cover herself up.

Instead of making a crumpled heap of the garment, Alex folded it meticulously and handed it to Niamh like a parcel to a prisoner.

“Would you be so kind to take this back to André and bring a few of those wet tissues with you- and something for Terry to drink, sweetie? I know there’s an awful lot of running about for you,” she said with a certain tone Niamh found slightly disconcerting. “but in a moment you won’t be bothered with that any more. In fact, you won’t be moving much at all. Hop!”

* * *

Something in the back of her mind still tried to process the input from all her senses working double shifts in a stoical, logical way, as if there was any reason for that. The very moment she was left in her little predicament, strapped down with painstaking attention to detail meaning that the straitjacket was very nearly too tight, and the restraints locked in such a way that her legs were as immobile as the chair they were attached to; she felt reduced. Trying to find out why she felt like that, she was forced to watch Alex giving Theresa ‘a little something’ to drink. Even such a highly ordinary act of kindness, she could turn into something painfully erotic only by altering a few essential gestures and moves. She wanted to turn her head away, but Alex had locked her in her gaze.

As Alex gently coaxed Theresa down on her knees, Niamh had a few seconds to cool down. Her feet felt quite chilly after being thoroughly wiped with the little wet towel, and she had an idea or two what that could mean in terms of torture. A wall of blinding whiteness followed by a soft whoomph made her a bit disoriented, but she still had the presence to swear rather loudly at André behind the scenes. You’ll not know shit from shiitake if you keep doing that, Pandy boy!

“Language!” Alex barked, but without much conviction. It looked like she was suppressing a big smile. She pranced over to the little case that was still lying opened on a shelf, and rummaged around in it. “It would appear that we have a little attention-seeker here, wouldn’t you say, Terry girl?”

“Not the prod. Please, not the prod...” breathed Niamh, barely audible. Something squeezed hard around her pounding heart as she watched Alex withdraw an oblong metal rod.

“It’s not that I think it would do you any harm to get a few encouraging zaps, or perhaps one or two rounds with the rattan...”

“Oh, yes please...” Theresa mumbled, her eyes the size of small saucers. “Ma’am.”

“Oh, behave.” Alex produced what looked like a surgical instrument, equipped with a small but very spiky wheel. “No, instead I like to try to enhance your sensory perception by using this, sweetie. It’s called a Wartenberg wheel- works pretty much like acupuncture without the actual puncture- even if those nails are pretty sharp. Provided, of course, than you don’t upset me.” She turned the wheel with her thumb. “But I’m getting ahead of myself again. We’re not done hooking you up yet, as it were.”

The surgical mask was quickly strapped to her face, and Niamh was grateful that that the air was turned on in advance this time when the harness snapped against her neck and she drew heavily for breath. She watched Alex lean over her shoulder and wondered what was going on when she suddenly became aware of something kicking violently against vital parts of her hindbrain.

“Added a little memento.” she heard Alex’ voice next to her ear over the irregular hissing. “I truly hope that it’ll get you through the next few hours or so.”

Apart from the apparent smell of surgical grade rubber and the slightly stale air, there was a sharp, pungent odour of Woman widening her nostrils for each breath. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but Niamh felt a tiny, salty droplet on her tongue tasting of the same unmistakable fragrance. Alex. How the hell did she do that? She swore again, under her breath. This was going to drive her mad, and she knew it only too well.

Alex backed off, sucking her right index finger with a feigned expression of surprise on her face. Oh, you’ll look differently when I get my teeth into the real thing. Just you wait.

The little spiked wheel glistened ominously in Alex’ hand, and the stainless steel enveloped in black rubber caught Niamh’s attention very effectively, since her eyes refused to let go of the hand as it travelled lazily through the air in subtle, artful gestures. It closed in on her as if it had a will of its own, and the tiny spikes grew longer the closer it got. The valves in the machine had a hard time keeping up with her breathing now, and she began swallowing air in wheezing gulps, gasping when her tongue seemed to get in the way.

“Easy, easy now.” muttered Alex with a hint of concern that didn’t seem false. “Don’t you trust me, sweetie? I won’t let it hurt too much. Just enough for you to enjoy it. I think you will, actually.” She lowered the instrument sidled up to the cabinet with her eyes still set on Niamh. “I’ll reduce the flow a bit and let you rebreathe some more of your own air a little while.”

Niamh shook her head violently, causing the tubes to flap and rustle. A little face with harrowed look only inches from her legs gave her a gloating smile. A passing thought told her that Theresa began to enjoy herself more than an entirely sane person probably would.

“It’s instead of the little brown paper bag, you silly girl. I won’t have you fainting on me before I get to have my fun.”

Before she had any time to settle, the wheel rolled lightly against her thigh. She screamed loudly out of sheer shock, but there was no pain. Another roll, and it felt like a tiny bug strolling casually up her other leg. She stared in disbelief right into the sunny glow of Alex’ visage, and tried to understand what the thing was all about. Not even when she felt the wheel make the long trek across her exposed flesh down below, she felt more than a slight itching sensation. It was rather pleasant. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the minuscule change in Alex’ face. Fuck, she’s going for my feet, and she’s pressing down...

Now it didn’t matter how much she tried to make herself heard, because her body wouldn’t let her exhale. Holding her breath with her teeth clenched, she could only watch when Alex moved the wheel like an artist’s paintbrush over her sensitive feet careful not to puncture the blueish white skin, barely leaving a mark. It didn’t matter to Niamh, who suffered infernally from the tiny pinpricks. With a touch that wouldn’t have shamed a chiropodist, Alex shifted focus to the toes, sides and soles of her feet as she casually chatted with Theresa next to them.

“Can you see how sensitive she is right here? Oh, that was a good one.”

Niamh tried desperately to curl her feet up to balls. This wasn’t exactly fun, and she suspected that her body would present a fat bill tomorrow morning since her muscles were already complaining. Again. So, what’s new?

“And between the toesies, like that. Oops. Then, the... What do you say, the arch, perhaps? Won-der-ful. Hah, look how she’s trying to kick me.”

She felt a sudden urge to cough. The air was rapidly growing humid and quite thin, and she had to force more of it down her lungs to remain clear-headed. The sparks fizzing under her feet was like walking on burning charcoal.

“Ma’am” she wheezed. “Can’t breathe.”

“If you can speak, you can breathe.” Alex answered, unfazed. “But I’ll turn on some more air, if you insist. Terry girl...”

“Ma’am.” She’s well out of it, Alex. Just look at her. Oh, bugger.

“It’s your turn now.” Alex said, giving the bulb between Theresa’s legs a few squeezes. “Make sure that her feet get entirely clean. I won’t have a single smidgen of dirt on them, or it’s your bony little arse. Understood?”

Niamh tried to remember which saint to address in situations like these.

* * *

Another softened flash went off in the distance. The dark end of the stage seemed to move further and further away from them, and their little spot of light floated becalmed in a sort of void where there was only weird, muted muzak and the bizarre sound of the product of a mad scientist, couturier, cook, and currently stagehand slash photographer.

She had never before seen such pupils in the eyes of a person not under the influence, and she could swear that the tortured Terry twitched a little with every heartbeat pounding in her chest as she closed in on the toes with strings of saliva dangling from her chin. Relatively fresh air was flowing through the mask again, but it only made things worse by intensifying the smell of Alex’ little souvenir. It was almost like breathing through her cunt, Niamh thought, but that was of course the general idea. There will be teeth, mark my words. I’ll draw blood.

There was barely a muscle in her body that didn’t respond when the pale pink tongue brushed over her left foot, starting with her toes. Niamh shut her eyes, trying to think of just about anything else, but it didn’t help. Theresa proved to be good at this. Maybe this was retaliation for all the foot massages she had turned into short but intense tickle-fests only to see Alex surrender herself totally. Not much to her surprise, she could hear little noises of approval from her right.

Alex stood leaning against the cabinet again, seemingly doing nothing in particular but watching Theresa eating her feet. Niamh managed to control herself long enough to cast a meaning glance in that direction, but the only response was again the same finger over the mouth and a few mimed words. Niamh knew what ‘serves you right’ was all about by now.

Without any plausible explanation, Niamh could feel how her private parts reacted in unison with Theresa’s diligent lapping and sucking. There was a fervent throbbing feeling, and there was definitely something trickling down the back of her thighs. She made the mistake of moaning loudly, and downstairs someone immediately trebled her effort.

“Please, stop!” she whined under the mask. Theresa let out one of her obnoxious guffaws and spat on her lower shin.

“Relax, sweetie.” cheered Alex. “I’ll make it a bit easier for you.”

Despite the confusion, Niamh could hear the fflump noise from the machine, followed by a sharper hissing. Within seconds, there was a very faint trace of sea apart from the pungent rubber and bodily fluids in the air. Determined to stay in control, she tried desperately to reduce her breathing to an absolute minimum, which was practically impossible under the circumstances. Nothing much seemed to happen to her, though, and she gradually relaxed thinking that it was just another hoax meant to send Mad Terry into orbit. Why bother, she thought, since she’s already probably constantly coming only propelled by her own imagination? Besides, she was obviously getting tired already. It barely made any difference what she did to her feet now, since it only tickled pleasantly without causing any cramps or...Oh, shit. You sneaky t...

“I told you so.” Alex winked, patting the cylinder to the far left. “Since Terry girl never got the chance to try it- it is frightfully expensive, so try not to breathe too deeply- I thought this would be a good moment to let you have some. It gets better, if you have a little patience.”

Theresa showed great interest in the developments, with half a foot stuck in her mouth. Without as much as a sound, she stealthily began working her way upwards. Niamh watched her move, but she had nothing against just checking what would happen now. It began feeling as if someone had chucked cotton drenched in honey into her ears to the point of filling her head up to the temples. A tingly feeling in her legs made her want to wiggle a little, and she hoped that she would get a little help with the tight feeling between her legs.

Niamh inhaled deeply, once, twice and on the third lungful, the wooziness set in for real. Now, every sound seemed to come from an old, blaring radio. It was hard to focus, and she only briefly saw Alex turn another knob with a twist and then back into the shadows with a Cheshire cat smile on her face. Theresa had paused with her cheek on Niamh’s left leg, panting heavily. Niamh didn’t want to waste precious time, so she sucked in another three full breaths and tried to get her going.

“Come on then.” she squawked, suddenly feeling gutsy. “I’m waiting. Wrung out already, Teabag?!”

She couldn’t believe how witty she could be if she put an effort to it. Everything she said was hilariously funny. Theresa grinned as well, she noticed. Why didn’t she continue grooming her legs? They were freshly shaven and really smooth, she thought. Probably tasty as well. Salty. Nothing wrong with them. Oh. Yeah, all right. She tried to clear her throat as those eyes drew closer to her midst, but she only managed a dry cough. No cumbersome foreplay here, as it seemed. Time to call dear old Alex back, but what would she say? The Terryminator is trying to blow my kazoo, oh, what shall I do?  Oh, it was beginning to get really tough to stay awake. Did Alex turn on the other thingies as well? Why? It felt so good only a minute ago, she thought muzzily.

Somehow she was able to detect something moving in the pink mist on the right. There was a slight fffff and the fog began to lift just a little. Now, she could clearly see Theresa well on her way to her kazoo, as it were, with her whole tongue at the ready.

Before Niamh had any chance to react, two black arms reached out from behind Theresa. Within an instant, a large plastic bag was pulled over her head and secured tight with a Velcro strap. She was pulled backwards and rolled down on the floor before Alex’ feet, twisting like a large fish out of water.

“If you keep being silly, you’ll have less than a minute to say you’re sorry.” Alex stated, leaning over her. “Get up. Sit. I won’t help you.”

There was something deeply satisfying about how Theresa’s plum-coloured face looked under the clear plastic clinging to her skin for each attempt to breathe, Niamh thought. Perhaps this part wasn’t part of her plan. Her eyes closed for the first time in minutes, as it seemed, and she tried to speak.

“I’m...sorry...”

“Louder.” snapped Alex, not moving an inch. “You only have one chance, you know.”

“I’m sorry...ma’am.”

“I seemed to have lost my hearing as well as my good sense of judgement. Again.”

Now, Niamh could only hear wheezing gasps and strangled sobbing as Theresa shook her head. She bit her lip with excitement.

“You’ll be more sorry than you know in a matter of seconds. I’ll tell you what: Do never attempt to seduce- or even touch without my permission- someone I regard as my beloved ever again. That was your last chance.”

Theresa fell over on the floor, kicking madly. The bag was stuck against her open mouth, and she tried to get it off by scraping it against the canvas. Niamh could feel beads of cold sweat form on her forehead as the fresh-smelling clarity slowly began to subside. It was really arousing to watch, but it was beginning to feel a bit dicey.

“Should we wait and see if she can get it off by herself, or should we...” Alex asked.

Niamh nodded, and regretted it almost instantly as the whole room began to sway again. This wasn’t how it should work, was it? Entonox was supposed to be mild stuff for soon-to-be mothers and people afraid of their dentists. But were you supposed to breathe it for this long, and how much of the other stuff did Alex feed to her?

The bag came off and Alex kicked it away with her heel. Theresa lay still, panting like a boxer after a rough round.

“Since you obviously didn’t have anything to say for yourself, you will wear the gag for the duration. I don’t have time and patience for all this nonsense.”

Theresa didn’t seem to suffer that much when Alex brought back the ball gag and used her foot to pump up the dildo with eight good squeezes on the bulb before putting the gag back in her mouth.

“You may watch, but if I hear a single sound from you, you’re out of here. Understood?”

Brushing her hands off to get rid of some imaginary dirt, Alex returned to the cabinet again. She tipped her head aside, watching Niamh intently with a quizzical look. Niamh instantly felt like she was thirteen years old again, and ever so deeply in love. She giggled hollowly inside the mask. Alex looked, if possible, even more astonishing now than earlier. It was as if every single twinkle of light in the black latex flattering her every curve said zing right behind her eyes. She said ‘beloved’. Something made her try to scoop up that something that gave whatever she was pulling down her lungs that Alex-scent, using her tongue. She didn’t succeed very well. It was getting quite numb and didn’t really feel like doing what she wanted it to.

“Well. That leaves the two of us then.” said the two red lips in the moon.

* * *

The fflump noise followed by a stream of tin-tasting warm air with a slight bite to it made her senses find the right gear again, bit by bit. She wasn’t entirely sure if she liked it. When she was two, her uncle had brought home a brand new Thomson colour TV-set, since their old black-and-white one had set fire to the curtains during the cup finals. It really never worked the way it should, and David Frost often looked like an oompa-loompa when her mother used to watch his show. It somehow made more sense to her than the real world, Niamh remembered, and she had the same feeling sitting in the nightmare of a chair without the pleasure of the mild buzz soothing her. She had lost track of time, and wondered how long Alex would keep going. Theresa sat in a wet spot on the canvas looking like a child staying up too late to watch the zombie flick, and Niamh hoped she hadn’t wet herself again.

“You’re still with us, I see. You know, I think I’d like to have a device like this at home, don’t you agree?” Alex began. She ran her fingers over the contents of the case now placed on the shelf and stopped at the mysterious contraption right above the e-stim control box. “Especially one of these. Oh, I haven’t showed you how it works yet, but I think that’ll have to wait... till tomorrow, perhaps.” Niamh remembered, annoyingly lucid, the letters D-R-Ä-G-E-R embossed on the metal front, but couldn’t guess what the box was for. There were two or three knobs on it, and some strange-looking threaded holes on the front.

“I must say it’s quite an impressive thing.” she continued. A little unexpectedly, she scraped her foot and looked down, smiling coyly. “Sweetie, I’m sorry if I was inattentive a moment ago though I know it’s been a while since I trained titration. You seem to get affected really easy, and I don’t want you to start feeling ill. Sorry if I broke off something nice.”

Entering verbose phase, Niamh thought. Now, she had reason to listen up. The use of treacherous bollocks as means of distraction was Alex’ little speciality. Nice talkative lady can still kick like mule; old Chinese wisdom or something like that. So, she had tampered with the mixture. Well, what a surprise, then.

“Did you enjoy it?” Alex asked cheerfully without expecting much more than a quick nod for an answer. “I thought you would, dear. Let’s try it again, but this time it’s really my turn to have a little laugh, eh?”

There was a loud clatter of metal as Alex upended a white cotton bag Niamh hadn’t seen before. Both girls watched with interest to see what she had stashed away in it.

“It’s really a great shame that our hero back there is such a genius when it comes to useful inventions- much like this little trolley of fun- but such a nit in the toy department.” Alex ranted. “If I had been male, brawny, beardy and gay as a lieutenant, his gear would without doubt be my personal weapons of choice. But now...” She held up two rather intimidating instruments probably designed to cause equal amounts of pleasure and pain. The problem, Niamh deduced, was that you couldn’t get both out of one end, and the person using it on someone else was obviously the one getting all the pleasure. “...this is all he had to offer me to play with. I guess I have to use my imagination.”

Niamh closed her eyes again.

“I think I’ll settle for this little baby. It doesn’t look that bad, actually.” Alex mused, wielding something that resembled a massage wand crossed with a professional power tool. On the emptied bag, there were a few imaginatively designed sleeves that seemed to fit the soft, round head of the gadget. “I know you really like these buzzing buggers, dear. They are a great help sometimes.”

In between breaths, Niamh could hear a little squeaking noise. It sounded very much like Oscar playing with one of his chewy toys, but it came from Theresa. She was trying to get some stimulation from rocking back and forth kneeling on the floor. Niamh was a bit impressed by her agility, since she managed to touch the floor with the base of the dildo between her legs. Meanwhile, Alex busied herself with preparing the toys.

“Why not give that black box another chance to prove itself worthy of praise? Now, where did I put that cute little cork?” she said. “Did you happen to see where it went, Terry girl? Oh, there we have it.”

She picked up the acrylic plug with the wires dangling from it, turning and scrutinizing it with a serious look on her face. There was something with it that made her frown.

“If I hadn’t been in such good mood I would have made you clean this with your tongue as well. Disgusting. Don’t you eat properly? Tomorrow, I think I’ll ask Niamh to give you an enema.”

 Wait a minute. Niamh nearly missed the glint in Alex’ eye when she gave her a spurning stare. Apparently, she wasn’t just pulling a leg, but spanking the hell out of it while she was at it. However, there was no joke about making use of Mr. Tesla’s little wonders again, though. The plug was attached to the box and, although it probably already was sanitized, Alex went over it again with a wet wipe. As a little cherry on top, she squeezed a blob of blue lube from a little plastic tube onto it.

“It would surely hurt without this, and we don’t want that, do we?”

Instead of bending her forward, Alex pressed a lever with her foot and tipped Niamh backwards into a recumbent, but far from comfortable position. This made her feel even more vulnerable, since she wasn’t really prepared to share every angle of herself with others than Alex. She tried to convey the message silently, and was met by an understanding nod.

“If our dear paparazzo would have the decency of putting down the remote for just a little while, we would be very grateful indeed.” Alex said loudly. She leaned closer to Niamh and lowered her voice. “You are aware that each and every single one of those pictures will stay with us, aren’t you? Good. Lean back and have a nice ride at the fun fair now, sweetie.”

Niamh smiled under the mask. Listening to Alex’ voice when she was in that mood was like having a really strong drink warming her inside, and she was actually able to relax a bit without being even mildly affected by the gas. She wondered if that could get her into trouble, if her instincts and reflexes were lulled that much just by the sight and sound of her so close. It was like being hypnotised, even if it was probably mostly self-induced, she thought.

A cold, hard plastic feeling in her rear interrupted her musings. Nimble fingers ensured that the procedure was nearly painless, and the plug slid neatly into place. Niamh’s initial response was to try to push it out, but it was held in place until her body had accepted the intruder. The most irritating thing, she thought, was Theresa starting to sound like a cat in heat. Give her the bag again, somebody, until she learns to shut up. My shop’s going to close early if she goes on like that for long.

The following moment, she had to bite down quite hard not to groan in the same obnoxious way. Alex had probably kept the program setting from her little session with poor Terry, and that meant serious voltage from the very beginning. She was glad that she didn’t have anything up front- yet, at least- toasting her there as well. It would have been far too intense, but this didn’t feel all that bad even if the box seemed to be capable of heating more than a cup of tea. The involuntary twitching in her back passage had a strange, scrummy undertone that she already enjoyed. It wasn’t as slick and sweet as Alex’ sensitive fingers, though, and she missed having them sneaking in there. Oh, yes please.

Circling the chair slowly, Alex pushed away her hair and held her head up.

“Take a close look at her now, schatje,” she whispered alluringly, nodding towards Theresa. “You’re making her very happy indeed. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Despite her extraordinarily looking outfit and her deflated puppet way of kneeling, Niamh could only look straight into her eyes, flaring in the dim light. They really are green. The madness in them had transformed into a detached, thousand-mile stare, but there was an air of deep satisfaction about her now. Very strange. Niamh wondered how she had looked when she was Alex’ sidekick only an hour or so ago. This truly was something she would remember, and something she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone, ever.

A stretchy, snapping sound indicated that Alex was preparing the tool-like toy by attaching one of the weird sleeves to the head. Putting it aside, she turned to Niamh again, letting her right hand slide down the front of the straitjacket, stopping right above the naked skin over her pubes.

“I have to say you drive me absolutely crazy. You’re far too gorgeous for your own good, do you know that?”

Niamh shook her head, arching her back when the fingertips wandered like quills over her slippery labia. The touch made her open up wide, forgetting everything about who was watching. Her sphincter tried to strangle the plug, and that only enhanced the feeling of sharp needles tickle her rather excruciatingly from the inside.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Alex cooed, slowly running her fingers round and round without touching the most sensitive areas. “I suspect you would rather have me pleasuring you for hours on end, you little princess, you.”

“E’s mh’m” was all Niamh managed when Alex suddenly homed in on the target, making her buck and heave as much as the restraints allowed.

“Do you feel ready to try the gas again? I promise not to put you under,” continued Alex, in an even more seductive tone. “I’ll just give you enough to make this a memorable... session... for you.”

Now, all Niamh could comprehend was the overwhelming sensation of electricity and dreamily soft pressure on the exact spots. She nodded out of reflex.

“How fortunate, then, that you kept your seatbelt on. Hold on tight, sweetie.”

* * *

 Alex set about her work with great efficiency, placing herself on one of the chairs with both the cabinet and Niamh within easy reach. Niamh had trouble keeping up with what was happening, and she began feeling a little more uncertain when the power tool ended up being fastened with a purpose-built clamp between her legs. Alex carefully adjusted it, so that the round, soft head equipped with something that felt like rubber-tipped jelly fingers barely touched her. Not too bad if Alex only meant it to stay that way, which Niamh strongly doubted. There always was a catch to the nice surprises, and perhaps vice versa. There’s psychology for you, then.

Watching the gauges very carefully with a very business-like serious look to her, Alex looked more and more like a real nurse, albeit a very strange one, Niamh thought. She recalled her feverish dreams from the hospital, and even if this wasn’t exactly what she had been fantasizing about, it was not that very far from it. Terry as a gimp and background muzak were two things too far out to qualify even in her league.

Alex motioned to her to breathe deeply as she reached for the circuit valve. Niamh wondered how much training she really had in this field. She seemed confident enough, but were there really any guarantees?  Yeah, now I suddenly come to think of it. Silly fat-arsed me. Would she treat her the same way as she did with Theresa? It wouldn’t be great to lose control over bladder and bowels just because someone overdid things a lii-ttle bit, or getting taser burns on her bum as another little souvenir. She remembered how fast she’d went from ‘slightly tipsy’ to ‘pissed out of her head’ without getting anywhere close to a real high, and without any real chance to say stop. Oh, no; a bit more care required here, please. And kill that fucking music.

A few drops of sweat burned in her eyes as she waited for the barely perceptible smell to return, but all she could detect was a salty hair-curling freshness of what she thought was oxygen over the bland, dry compressed air. There was a loud click, and the toy between her legs began to stir. She was a little too uptight to appreciate any stimulation of that kind, but she was a little surprised to find that it didn’t exactly vibrate, but rather tremble and turn a little. Niamh rolled her eyes and tried to figure out why someone would build a giant electric toothbrush to have fun with.

Now, she was just feeling restless and itchy. The distant music sounded like André had swapped the speakers for buckets all of a sudden, and she was sure she could hear her mobile ringing somewhere. She wasn’t even aware that she had brought it up here. Sorry, I’m in a tight spot right now. Bit tied down, actually. I’ve got jumper cables up my trumpet, an automatic hedgehog with a swimcap is flirting with my fanny and my partner’s about to try to gas me. Can I give you a ring later?

She cackled a little, and stopped, surprised with herself all of a sudden. The ringing noise was still there, but very distant. Perhaps it was downstairs? She tried to move a little, but though her limbs felt lighter and much less constrained than only a minute ago, she couldn’t move. When she tried harder, it was like opening a well-shaken beer bottle inside her. Fizzy bubbles rose from her feet and up, making her gasp. Somewhere in her lower regions, there was a pleasant tickling feeling, not unlike riding a bike down a very steep hill.

Oh, hello! Alex was back in her field of vision again, which made her happy. She wanted to kiss her right there and then, restrained or not, but her body didn’t even give it a try.

“That feels much better, doesn’t it? I obviously gave you a bit too much earlier, sweetie.”

Gradually adjusting herself to the floating feeling, she became increasingly aware of the very warm sensation radiating from her private regions. The toy had been put in higher gear without her really knowing it, and it did a good job. So did the vicious little plug, but she only registered it as something very pleasurable happening to her, and let the system work on automatic while she admired every single detail in the face hovering over hers.

A glint of metal followed by little ants walking across her mons made her giggle with delight. She took a deep breath as they took a left turn down her thigh, and there was a first ripple on the surface when she distantly felt her muscles contract in accord with the morse code from her behind and the whirring thing that felt so warm and grassy. Heisenberg, Mandelbrot, what’s-his-name wheel. Frankenstein? I love it.

There were fingers in her hair, brushing it away, and her eyes tried to follow the black hand as it moved downwards again. The device took on a more constipated sound, and the flow into the mask waned rapidly into nearly nothing. Niamh groaned disappointedly, but was unable to do anything but keep trying to breathe. She was a little amused with the new background noises she could discern; the hot, wheezingly heavy breath that was Alex five inches from her face, and the hopelessly aroused gurgling from Theresa squeaking away on the floor. Squeaksqueaksqueak. Go help her come a few times before I start laughing. I’m doing just fine here, thank you very much.

She didn’t make a sound until black blotches appeared before her eyes, and her lungs felt turned inside out; and then the pressure was immediately back in the mask again. There was an unexpected surge of fizzing sensations within her, and before she knew it, her body finally decided to respond in the only rational way it could find.

“Oh!” she could clearly hear Alex sob, “Oh yes. That’s it.”

A little mystified by how it felt- it was like experiencing a very vivid memory of the waves starting to roll in over her- she accepted being swept away like debris. She could hear her own guttural growls from under the mask, and thought that she sounded pretty good. Oh, here’s another. And...Oh, mother... Even more surprisingly was the fact that she seemed to stay surfing on each little peak just a while longer than she was used to; even with Alex at her best though they actually bit better then, as if her mind wanted to hammer the message ‘you are having a great time if you didn’t know that’ through to her.

Niamh had already lost count of the waves hitting her, when she felt the plug slip out of her as she suddenly lost nearly all muscle tone. Alex gave a little surprised hoot when she squirted all over the happily oscillating power tool, and Niamh felt familiar fingers replace the toys she couldn’t remember having been without for a really long time. Her sphincter gladly accepted Alex’ warm, rubbery digits and gave them a little friendly squeeze to welcome them, but up front she only felt bloated, very sticky and numb. There wasn’t much left in her now, and her heart seemed to call for a short pause as it slowed down and stung a little in her chest.

A sudden whiff making her nostrils prickle had the opposite effect, and her pulse took on the familiar hammer-on-the-anvil beat again. Her eyes and head cleared almost painfully quick, and she started to shiver a little. The straitjacket suddenly seemed icy cold and clammy, but the sensation subsided as Alex gradually let her down by adjusting the flow one last time.

The mask came off, and Niamh wondered how her face looked like after wearing it for so long- even if she didn’t really know how long- but Alex seemed to be too excited to notice anything worth a comment when she virtually attached herself to Niamh’s dry lips, knocking her over by sheer force.

“Wonderful.” mumbled Alex without letting go, “Magic. Oh, sweetheart; how are you feeling? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Niamh didn’t know what to say. She caught a short glimpse of Theresa lying tipped over sideways on the floor, still in the wet spot and with a look of total exhaustion on her. The dildo, still inflated, had begun to retire after messing the girl up really bad, but was still trapped inside the transparent shorts. Niamh thought she looked lonely.

“Help her out first.” she said. “I’m O.K. Help her first, then you can get me out of this effing thing.” Always turn your attention toward the silent ones first echoed in her head. So now it was first aid time, she thought. Well, overall, there were astonishingly few casualties. Show’s over, kids.

With her feet back on the canvas, carefully trying to regain some balance with a body that wasn’t really ready to perform any elaborate tricks in the walking department yet, Niamh wondered what would happen the next day. There was no real reason to try anything more demanding than this, she thought. Still, Alex had promised them a full program until Monday evening, and there was always a great risk for another marathon session of some sort. And this is how I feel Friday night. she said to herself. I’ve got to get fit before this kills me.

* * *

13.11.10