together, it's acceptable to spread only your knees. But since they aren't, keep them out here. Arch your back, so that your tits are pressed against the floor and your ass is in the air." I obeyed. "Good. I can see your cunt is already wet." He slipped a finger into my cleft, feeling the moisture. I moaned.
"Kneel, Anne-Marie," he commanded. I obediently rolled back up to a kneeling position, carefully assuming the pose he'd dictated before.
"Stand at attention, Anne-Marie," he commanded. I rose unsteadily to my feet, not sure what stance to position myself in.
Again he kicked my feet apart, and twisted my arms behind me. He pushed my head down.
"At ease, Anne-Marie," he commanded, and twisted my body into the pose he desired - my right leg bent to one side, my wieght borne by the other, and my hands at my sides. He pushed my head to the right, following the direction of my right upper leg. "This position is actually more fatiguing than attention, but it looks relaxed."
He walked me through a dozen other poses - kneeling back on my haunches, with my hands supporting my weight; lying on my back, hands pinned under my back; spreadeagled against the wall, leaning forward; and so on.
Once I'd gotten the rudiments, he began to work me, commanding me to change positions faster than I could assume them, and using the riding crop to encourage speed. He ran me through the complete set of positions five times, correcting posture and stance with a push of the crop's shaft or tip. In all that time his hands never touched me.
He padlocked my wrists behind me, and ran me through the positions again, showing me the alterations in form required by my reduced mobility - which compromises were acceptable, which were not. By now I was damp with sweat.
Four more repetitions with my wrists bound behind me. Five with them bound in front. Five with my ankles chained together. Five with my ankles chained, and my wrists bound behind me. Five with my ankles chained, and my wrists bound in front.
Abruptly the stream of commands stopped. I was kneeling upright, my ankles padlocked together and my wrists padlocked in front of me, so my wrists were at the back of my neck, and my elbows out. I was panting heavily, sweaty, sore, bruised, and barely able to keep position, because I was so weary.
"A good start." He hung a kind of chain necklace around my neck. "Wait until you hear the alarm chime. Then you may free yourself and leave." I heard his footsteps move to the door. Then the door shut.
I waited. For all I knew he had a goon watching me; I decided to be a good girl.
Something like an hour later (maybe two?) an alarm clock pinged twice. I let my hands drop to my lap and slouched forward. My arms were shuddering and twitching from holding the kneeling stance for so long, and I simply lay down on my side in exhaustion. I reached back and felt for the buckle cinching down my blindfold; I found it and undid the hasp.
The room was floodlit with flourescents, and they hurt my eyes. I had imagined the room to be dimly lit at best. I looked down at the necklace John had put on me; at the end hung a single key.
It took some work to angle the key into the padlock joining my wrists; I had to hold it between two thumbs and hold the padlock with my pinkies - but I got the hasp open and my wrists fell free. It was easy then to open the locks on each of my wrist cuffs. Soon all four fetters were on the ground, and I was standing shakily, looking around.
Aside from the leather cuffs and padlocks, the room was completely bare - except for a red dress on a hanger, hung on a nail, and my shoes and purse laid underneath it.
It was the same design as the one I had worn, but with a higher hemline. I put it on and saw that it just barely covered my ass and crotch. No bending over for me, not tonight anyway. I put on the shoes, picked up my purse.
Hell, I thought to myself, as I walked
"Kneel, Anne-Marie," he commanded. I obediently rolled back up to a kneeling position, carefully assuming the pose he'd dictated before.
"Stand at attention, Anne-Marie," he commanded. I rose unsteadily to my feet, not sure what stance to position myself in.
Again he kicked my feet apart, and twisted my arms behind me. He pushed my head down.
"At ease, Anne-Marie," he commanded, and twisted my body into the pose he desired - my right leg bent to one side, my wieght borne by the other, and my hands at my sides. He pushed my head to the right, following the direction of my right upper leg. "This position is actually more fatiguing than attention, but it looks relaxed."
He walked me through a dozen other poses - kneeling back on my haunches, with my hands supporting my weight; lying on my back, hands pinned under my back; spreadeagled against the wall, leaning forward; and so on.
Once I'd gotten the rudiments, he began to work me, commanding me to change positions faster than I could assume them, and using the riding crop to encourage speed. He ran me through the complete set of positions five times, correcting posture and stance with a push of the crop's shaft or tip. In all that time his hands never touched me.
He padlocked my wrists behind me, and ran me through the positions again, showing me the alterations in form required by my reduced mobility - which compromises were acceptable, which were not. By now I was damp with sweat.
Four more repetitions with my wrists bound behind me. Five with them bound in front. Five with my ankles chained together. Five with my ankles chained, and my wrists bound behind me. Five with my ankles chained, and my wrists bound in front.
Abruptly the stream of commands stopped. I was kneeling upright, my ankles padlocked together and my wrists padlocked in front of me, so my wrists were at the back of my neck, and my elbows out. I was panting heavily, sweaty, sore, bruised, and barely able to keep position, because I was so weary.
"A good start." He hung a kind of chain necklace around my neck. "Wait until you hear the alarm chime. Then you may free yourself and leave." I heard his footsteps move to the door. Then the door shut.
I waited. For all I knew he had a goon watching me; I decided to be a good girl.
Something like an hour later (maybe two?) an alarm clock pinged twice. I let my hands drop to my lap and slouched forward. My arms were shuddering and twitching from holding the kneeling stance for so long, and I simply lay down on my side in exhaustion. I reached back and felt for the buckle cinching down my blindfold; I found it and undid the hasp.
The room was floodlit with flourescents, and they hurt my eyes. I had imagined the room to be dimly lit at best. I looked down at the necklace John had put on me; at the end hung a single key.
It took some work to angle the key into the padlock joining my wrists; I had to hold it between two thumbs and hold the padlock with my pinkies - but I got the hasp open and my wrists fell free. It was easy then to open the locks on each of my wrist cuffs. Soon all four fetters were on the ground, and I was standing shakily, looking around.
Aside from the leather cuffs and padlocks, the room was completely bare - except for a red dress on a hanger, hung on a nail, and my shoes and purse laid underneath it.
It was the same design as the one I had worn, but with a higher hemline. I put it on and saw that it just barely covered my ass and crotch. No bending over for me, not tonight anyway. I put on the shoes, picked up my purse.
Hell, I thought to myself, as I walked
Similar Books
