Fresh Meat

Angie inserted the shiny new key into the Yale lock of Victoria’s front door on Albert Drive. It slipped in easily, and she quickly stepped inside and beyond sight of the street. It felt strange being in the house on her own. She had the overwhelming urge to explore, but the feeling was in conflict with her resolution to remain in Victoria’s good graces. Having just won her back, she didn’t want to jeopardise the situation by not being ready when her lover arrived, whenever that might be.

A note lay on the bare dining table, as promised. Angie recognised Victoria’s handwriting from her original note: carefully written, neat and brief. Feeling slightly foolish, she brought the paper to her nose and inhaled; yes, it even smelt of her. She read the words aloud to the empty house:

I have left you something to change into in the lounge. Strip and put on the harness, collar and cuffs. The gag is mandatory; the blindfold is not, but I will add it when I arrive if you initially choose to set it aside. Await me kneeling in the hall facing away from the front door. Only you and I have a key to this house; you will be perfectly safe if you elect to wait wearing the blindfold.

You may find it enhances the experience.

I will be with you soon,

V.

Angie re-read the note several times before venturing to the back room in search of the items it referred to. She was startled to find an array of white leather straps, which resolved into a body harness, matching leather cuffs for wrists and ankles with polished metal buckles and a wide white leather collar with inset metal rings, and from which a metal disk hung. In disbelief, she examined the collar and found that the disk had been stamped with two words: Victoria’s Bitch.

The meaning was unmistakable. The note, the clothes, if they could be referred to as such, the collar: Victoria was asking Angie to submit to her, more than that, to debase herself for her. Angie fondled the harness straps, deep in thought. They were such a contrast from the drab frumpary she currently wore. Did she really want to be this person? Victoria’s bitch?

Angie realised the question wasn’t that simple. With Victoria, she played the submissive lover in the bedroom, but afterwards, when they shared a civilised meal, they were companions, friends even? Angie struggled with the concept of ‘friendship’ in relation to Victoria, but the point was her decision to submit was always transient, not in perpetuity, and she could accept that. After all, when had her lover ever disappointed her when she had previously asked more of her?

Resolute for the moment, Angie stripped, neatly folded her school uniform and set about attempting to don the unfamiliar harness. It was difficult to figure out which way round it should go, to begin with, but eventually, she got the hang of it. Once she was fitted out in harness, collar and cuffs, Angie felt compelled to rush up into the bedroom to see herself in the full-length mirror.

She almost didn’t recognise her reflection. A sexual being bound in thin straps of white leather. Her sex and breasts were outlined and exposed, her neatly trimmed pubic mound stark between the straps which wrapped around her inner thighs.

She recognised that the harness was another way for Victoria to control her physically, much like when she tugged on Angie's tight braids. The girl loved that feeling. She had never liked having her hair pulled, but Victoria was subtler than that. To her, it was a means to guide her, not cause pain. It felt delicious to be controlled by her. Angie unconsciously moved her cuffed wrists together behind her back as if they had been bound by her lover and revelled at the images scrolling through her imagination.

Pulling back, Angie resolved to go all in. She knelt on the hall carpet, blindfold and gag laid out on the carpet in front of her. She would have to don the gag without the use of her eyes, no simple matter given; unlike previous ones, it was an entire head harness. She remembered Victoria’s titillating descriptions of the different types of gags. This one was definitely a step up from what she was used to. Her mouth would be filled with a ball but then covered by a square leather patch which was held in place by straps around the side, over the top, passing either side of her nose and under her chin, forcing her to bite down. What a sight she would be when fully kitted out.

Although her task was difficult, Angie managed it, conscious that she didn’t know when Victoria was due. She settled to meditate alone in her personal darkness, kneeling on the thick hall carpet. She wondered how long Victoria would be, how long she had already waited, what was in store for her that evening and how much more extreme the levels of kink in their relationship could reach.

Time passed without meaning, only measured by the increasing discomfort in Angie’s knees. Suddenly, she heard a key in the door. She straightened, nervous. The cool outside air wafted across her naked skin, producing a shiver. Whoever had entered the house was in no hurry. The front door closed, a coat rustled, and footsteps advanced, delicately skirting the kneeling figure.

Angie was tense, but as the unknown passed her, a familiar perfume wafted into her nostrils. Her mouth gagged, she couldn’t help but inhale deeply. She gave a shudder of expectation and waited patiently as the footsteps headed off towards the lounge and then returned.

Angie jumped at the sound of something thin and fast moving through the air, like the sound the dreaded cane had made, but it didn’t make contact. Then she felt something cool and flexible gently lifting her left nipple, not the touch of a finger, perhaps the end of whatever implement Victoria had retrieved. She tapped the nipple a few times with this implement and did the same with the other.

The kneeling girl flushed with anticipation, of pleasure, pain, probably both. The touch disappeared, and then she felt it gently probing between the straps at her crotch, just inside her sex. She moaned involuntarily.

“You’re wet already, macushla,” Victoria purred from somewhere nearby. Angie didn’t know what ‘macushla’ meant, but the tone and context in which her lover said it gave her all she needed to know. “I told you the blindfold would enhance the experience.” Despite her blindness, Angie could hear the indulgent smile on her lover’s lips.

The kneeling girl felt her collar being tugged and a scrap of metal. Then she felt a tug at her neck. “Given you have dressed yourself so beautifully as my pet, that is what you will be for the evening.” If she had not been gagged, Angie would have smiled to match that which was in Victoria’s voice. “Now, to the bedroom. On hands and knees, watch the first step.” Angie felt the tug of a lead and obeyed, butterflies in her belly and heat in her loins.

---

We definitely need to have a conversation about the level of kink in our relationship, Angie thought as she looked at the note from Victoria. It was the second such set of instructions her lover had left her. Angie didn’t want to suggest that she wasn’t enjoying herself. After all, the previous week’s session had been intense and involved Victoria attaching her wrists and, later, her ankles to a metal spreader bar suspended from the ceiling above the bed so that she could better control her lover whilst in the throws of passion. The results had been mind-blowing, and the dinner afterwards perfectly civilised.

Angie entered the lounge to find a new bundle of accessories. When would Victoria run out of inspiration for new kinks to expose her to, she wondered. Was the constant escalation a product of Victoria not wanting either one of them to become bored by their relationship? Certainly, Angie felt no need for such excess to keep her interested.

Angie picked up an unfamiliar garment. It was cold, rubber, shiny black on one side and dull but with a sprinkling of white powder on the other. She found shoulder straps and decided it was some kind of vest top with built-in suspenders. Angie idly wondered if she kept giving in to Victoria’s demands for kink, would she one day arrive to find an elegant evening gown and instructions to the effect that Victoria was taking her out to a restaurant for an early dinner followed by the opera?

Angie sighed and made a note to definitely discuss with Victoria how the lengths they were going to in the bedroom were becoming ridiculous in the way that she had utterly failed to do the previous week. Dutifully, she stripped off her regular clothes and picked up what appeared to be a black rubber stocking. It wasn’t simple to put on. The rubber was thick and didn’t stretch like normal fabric. Luckily, the white powder helped the grippy material slide across her skin.

After donning the basque and stockings, Angie fumbled with the knickers with some trepidation. They were made of a similar black latex but had a built-in plug. To make matters worse, a thin tube ending in a bulb issued from the back of the plug. A few experimental pumps of the bulb confirmed that the plug could be inflated, supposedly inside her? Angie’s mind boggled at the thought. At least Victoria had thoughtfully left her a tube of lubricant.

Sometime later, Angle knelt in the darkness once more. She had resolved to fit the rubber hood before the shoulder-length gloves, knowing how hard it was to use fine motor control in marigolds, let alone the thick rubber gauntlets Victoria had provided. She imagined the rubber smell of her outfit forming a cloud around her as it seemed to permeate her very being. At least there was no gag for now; in fact, the only holes in the hood were for her nostrils and mouth.

Angie had experimentally inflated the plug a little way inside her. It didn’t hurt, but it definitely made its presence felt. She quickly chickened out and pushed the little button to release the air it held, collapsing the invader inside her.

Contemplating her life, Angie wondered at the vast gulf between home, school and her time with Victoria. It was a marvel that such lives could co-exist, and she asked herself, not for the first time, how long that could continue. She was just resolving to discuss the matter with her lover when she heard the sound of a key in the lock, muffled by the layer of latex covering her ears.

Angie straightened as the visitor came near. Even on top of the ever-present rubber aroma, she could detect Victoria’s scent.

“Oh, Angelica, what a beautiful rubber toy you make.” A hand guided Angie into the standing position. She was about to answer back, but soft lips found her own, and any discourse was effectively postponed. Angie groped a little but found and held the body of her companion despite the hindrance to her senses posed by her outfit.

The kiss broke finally. “I omitted the gag this time because I missed your lips last time,” Victoria explained, her smile plain for Angie to hear.

“I really,” Angie began, but a single finger found her lips, silencing her.

“Later. It’s time to play.” The words were softly spoken but made Angie go gooey inside. She allowed herself to be led around blindly by her lover. Somewhere along the way, a gag was fitted. Not the usual ball, something long and textured. Angie suspected that it was shaped like the realistic penis dildos which they had played with in the past, but at least it had an air hole, and she could still breathe easily.

Angie suspected Victoria was playing a game with her, trying to disorientate her completely. Certainly, Angie had no idea where she was in the house and was surprised when the floor beneath her latex-covered feet transitioned from thick pile carpet to cold concrete. The air around them had cooled to match. Angie didn’t think she was outside but didn’t feel like she was anywhere in the house she had ever been before. Where they in the garage? She made a questioning noise through the gag, but Victoria made no answer.

Finally, the older woman lowered Angie into what felt like a sturdy wooden chair with arms, a footrest and some other accoutrements that she couldn’t recognise due to her muted sense of touch. She could hear the tinkle of metal as Victoria began to busy herself about her person. The girl soon realised that what she could feel were straps lying undone, which her hostess was systematically buckling.

Whistling through the hole in her gag, Angie’s breathing quickened as she lost more and more of her freedom. The straps held her firm without being too tight, and she could feel Victoria testing to ensure her circulation wasn’t cut off at any point. The bindings held her at the ankles, above the knee, wrists, and above the elbow. A strap passed around her waist and linked to a pair drawn over her shoulders. Finally, a strap around her neck and another just above her hood-covered eyes secured her head in place.

The leather of the straps creaked tantalisingly as Angie twisted and turned to test her bonds. Strangely, despite her lack of freedom, she felt safe; secure in Victoria’s presence. With her lioness to watch over her, what could possibly harm her?

Angie suddenly heard a hiss of air and then felt the plug in her backside grow. She grunted indignantly and then felt a hand stroking her latex-covered cheek. “You look good enough to eat all strapped in like that, my dear,” her lover murmured. Hands explored her bound form for a while longer, her breasts, her sides, her inner thighs. The warmth of Victoria’s touch caressed the chubby flesh between her legs, which was evident even through a layer of rubber.

At length, the hand withdrew, and there were sounds Angie didn’t recognise going on around her. Little scrapes, perhaps something being plugged into a wall socket. Something rounded and unyielding was pressed into the layer of latex covering her sex. With a click, it began to buzz, and strong vibrations began to pleasure her most sensitive flesh.

The instinct of Angie’s body was to back off from the powerful buzzing, at least just a little, to gain release from the overwhelming sensory input it induced, but the straps held her fast; there was nowhere to go. She struggled harder and gave an almost agonised moan, and then a yelp as another squeeze of the bulb expanded the butt plug further.

Angie was in unbelievable throws of agony and ecstasy. With nowhere for her mind or body to escape to, the onslaught of pleasure pounded her senses. Her rhythmic moans became long, drawn-out muffled cries as her blindly struggling body was rapidly catapulted towards a state of hyper-orgasm that it had hitherto never experienced.

Although Angie’s sense of time was distorted entirely, she reached climax quickly. Her whole body convulsed as one, making the chair creak alarmingly, but it was sturdy and held its franticly struggling occupant at bay.

As she returned to herself, Angie panted as best as she could through the gag and allowed the restraints to support her lolling head. Dimly, she felt a hand stroking her cheek through the latex and then something fitted over her face, hard but yielding like thin plastic. As she continued to pant, Angie sank into a blackness more profound than that of mere blindness, and she knew no more.

---

Krystian Janik slipped around the side of the hired van and into the suburban garage he had just backed partway into. His observant grey eyes took in the scene. The sturdy wooden bondage chair he had delivered the previous day remained in the centre of the floor, but now it had an occupant: the girl. She was secured with thick leather straps and mostly covered in a layer of polished black latex. It would do well enough to hold her during transit, even in the unlikely event that she awoke.

Janik’s employer busied herself around the girl. A face mask attached to a gas bottle was already set, and Victoria had just finished fitting the catheter. A thin stream of yellow liquid ran through the tube and into a clear bag now that the efforts of Angie’s body to stem the flow had been circumvented.

“How much blood do you need?” Victoria asked, her urgent tone betraying her nervousness.

“10 CCs should be enough for what we want,” he answered in an even tone. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He worked quickly and efficiently with a syringe, peeling down a glove from the unconscious girl’s arm, sanitising the skin and extracting what he needed to fool the forensic tests.

Victoria was still caressing the girl’s masked face as he brought around the hand pallet trolley. Janik couldn’t help but wonder what their captive would feel like in his own hands. He was tempted to have a quick grope but knew it was better to wait until they were beyond Victoria’s sight.

It was easy enough to guide the palette trolley under the chair, jack it up and transfer the whole package into the back of the van. Securing the chair in place so that it wouldn’t slip about as he drove was a more interesting challenge, but there were enough solid attachment points on the sturdy seat to sure things up.

Victoria tugged on the straps securing the chair in the back of the van experimentally and seemed grudgingly satisfied. Her high heels and pencil skirt made her dismount from the back of the van inelegant. Brushing herself off, she turned to Janik finally. “So, you’re aiming for the 9 A.M. ferry from Holly Head?”

“If traffic is not bad,” Janik nodded.

“So you should be back by midday tomorrow?” Victoria sounded pushy, but Janik ignored her tone.

“If all goes to plan.”

“I’ll have the doctor join us tomorrow afternoon, then.” Janik merely nodded again. He didn’t like the tame country doctor that Victoria used, but he got the job done, and he would keep his mouth shut. The sight of the big man intimidated the doctor, and that’s how Janik liked it.

Victoria seemed to be having trouble leaving the girl. Without asking, he pulled the van doors closed and locked them. Whatever spell the sight of the unconscious trussed-up girl had over Victoria broke as he did so.

“I have a plane to catch.” And with that, she turned and left, her heels clicking on the concrete.

Janik climbed into the van. Although he was tempted, there was no chance for games with the girl on this journey; she was too well secured, and he was on a tight schedule. He’d have to drive through the night as it was and, if he was lucky, get a few uncomfortable hours sleep while he waited for the ferry. But once they got their prize home, the fun could really begin.