The Control Strap Page 12

"Looks like we're almost too late."

  Her eyes flew open and she saw two more naked men. It took a moment for her to recognize them as the pilot and copilot.

  "Jim! Dennis!” said Sanders. “I was wondering what happened to you two. Got started without you as you can see."

  "Obviously,” said Jim. “We got stuck behind a minor fender bender on the way in from the airport."

  "Well,” said Sanders, pulling away from Brenda. “This one's done. Just needs a rinse."

  "Actually, Tom,” said Jim, “I think I see a spot or two that needs going over again, if you don't mind."

  "No, no. Not at all. Go right ahead."

  Brenda gasped as the taller, younger man stepped toward her. Meanwhile, Sanders wandered over to Amy, and Dennis, the copilot, approached Sammie.

  Jim stood facing the panting blonde, neither touching her nor speaking. His gaze roamed up and down her soapy slick flesh. Brenda returned the favor, steering her glance up to his face and down to his hard pulsing cock, and up again.

  Then, with an abrupt motion, he snatched her to him, lifting her bodily off the floor. His hands gripped her by the ass cheeks, positioning her against him so her legs straddled his cock and her breasts rubbed against his hairy chest.

  His hold on her was amazingly strong, but she helped him out by grasping the chains overhead and pulling herself up. At the same time, he squeezed her thighs together against his shaft and began thrusting himself between her legs like Sanders had done.

  She was so lost in the feelings coursing through her body that she didn't care who he was or where they were. She only wished her ankles weren't trapped by the spreader bar so she could wrap her legs around him and let him impale her.

  Instead, he merely rubbed himself to satisfaction between her thighs. After a few minutes, he grunted and set her down again. But her hips wouldn't stop swaying. She whimpered and pressed herself against him again.

  "Time for that rinse,” he said, ignoring her advance.

  "More pweez?” she pleaded through her gag.

  "I'd love to, Ten, but company policy and all that."

  Policy! she thought. What kind of idiotic policy leaves a girl wet and panting and wanting more?

  But the pilot was determined, and switched on the stream from the showerhead again. He also took the hose and sprayed her down with it, aiming it toward all the areas the overhead flow couldn't reach. When he got to her pussy, he let the spray linger, grinning as Brenda trembled and whined.

  Finally, he rinsed himself off as well and turned off the water. By then Sanders and the copilot were done with Amy and Sammie, and Sanders was washing Lindsay. Jim unlocked Brenda's wrists and guided her to the wall where the towels were hung. Her gait was awkward as he didn't bother removing the spreader bar.

  He toweled himself off first and then dried her, pressing the soft terrycloth into all her nooks and crannies. Finally he removed the spreader bar.

  When everyone was rinsed and dry, Sanders slipped on a robe and led the naked girls to their rooms. Inside Brenda's room, he unbuckled her gag, and had her pee before climbing into the bed.

  She hadn't noticed the leather cuffs at the head and foot of the bed, but it was obvious that she was to be locked into them for the night.

  "Mr. Sanders, you don't have to chain me to the bed, do you? I mean, I'll be locked in the room anyway. I can't escape. Even if I wanted to."

  "Yes, I understand. But answer me this, Number Ten: you became aroused during the shower, didn't you?"

  "Oh god, yes!"

  "And you're still aroused, aren't you?"

  "Yes, sir. I—I'm so horny."

  "Hence the cuffs. To keep naughty little fingers from straying where they don't belong."

  "Oh!"

  He smiled as he finished cuffing her to the bed. Then hekissed her on the forehead and flipped off the light, saying, “Pleasant dreams, princess.” With a click of the lock, she was left in dark by herself.

  CHAPTER 14: EARLY TO BED, EARLY TO RISE

  Brenda lay on her back in the dark for what seemed like forever before sleep finally came. It was nearly impossible to shut down her thoughts as she went over and over the events of the day. And when she did finally drift off from sheer exhaustion, the sleep itself proved less than restful.

  Like many women, she'd long had fantasies of being restrained and taken against her will, but her experiences that day fueled her dreams like nothing she'd ever imagined on her own. The sensations of being bound and gagged and touched and teased made everything about the dreams all the more lifelike. They were uncannily vivid, erotically charged, filled with bizarre variations of all that had happened to her.

  Again and again, she awoke gasping and wet, with the latest image still fresh in her mind, her flesh tingling as though she had really been through it all again. As much as her body needed sleep, she began to dread it as simply the start of the next dream.

  If only she could touch herself, she thought. She was sure it would relieve the pent up tension and let her truly rest if she could just make herself come. But the chains that secured her limbs to the bed were not long enough to let her turn over, let alone touch her aching pussy.

  The bouts of fitful sleep and restless wakefulness continued hour after hour. Several times she found herself lying on her side as if she had tried to turn over, only to end up with her chained arms and legs twisted like pretzels.

  And then the lights in her room came on. A smiling, obviously well rested Mr. Sanders greeted her.

  "Rise and shine, princess!"

  "Oh nooo,” she groaned, squinting in the glare of the overhead bulb. “Can't I sleep just a little more?” Even to herself she sounded like a child not wanting to get up for school.

  "You've had all the beauty rest you need. There aren't any flights scheduled today, but you do have to catch up on your training."

  She continued protesting feebly, but knew it would do her no good. He was not the sort of man who took no for an answer. Certainly not from one of his “staff".

  As soon as he freed one of her hands, she slid it down and began to rub the spot that had been demanding attention all night long. She knew he saw her and she didn't care.

  Instead of trying to stop her as she expected, he simply went about the business of releasing her from the rest of the cuffs. By the time he was done, she felt the orgasm already building up inside her, ready to explode.

  Suddenly, he grabbed both her hands and held them tightly in front of her.

  "Let me go!” she squealed, angrily fighting his grip on her. “It's my body, and I can touch it if I want to!” she blurted out.

  She pulled with all her strength but was unable to break his hold. After a minute of fruitless struggle, she relented and switched to begging. “Please, Mr. Sanders! Please, please, please! You don't know what it was like for me last night. It was torture."

  "But I do know, Number Ten. In fact, it's part of your training. You must unlearn this false notion that you can do whatever you want with your body because it's ‘yours'. It is not yours. In fact, it never was."

  He released her and seated himself in the chair across from the bed. She sat up and pouted at him.

  "Legs together,” he reminded her, “and put your hands behind you for now.” He paused as though gathering his thoughts before continuing. “Goethe once said,” he began, “'none are so hopelessly enslaved as those who falsely believe they are free.’ And you, Brenda, have been falsely led to believe you are free."

  "But I am free. At least I was until you made me sign that contract of yours."

  "Yes, you will continue to believe that for a while. It's a very hard thing to unlearn. But let me just say this for now ... What you thought of as freedom before was merely a holding state. A woman like yourself no more owns her own body than a child owns its body. And just as a child needs parents to guide and protect it, you need someone to guide you. Not a parent, but ... an owner."

  "What are you saying? That I'm meant to be
a slave?"

  He laughed. “Of course you are. And you know it, too. Don't you feel sometimes as if you're two different people?"

  Brenda looked away, afraid he would see how close to home his words struck. It was as if he had read her mind.

  "Most of the time,” he continued, “you're the intelligent, independent Brenda, the one you present to the public, and that's all there is to it. But you know deep down inside there's another ‘Brenda'. A Brenda who frightens you. A Brenda you feel must be kept hidden away like the crazy aunt in the attic."

  She sat and listened as if in a trance. Blankly, she looked across at him and tried to find her voice, to deny what he was saying. But she couldn't.

  He went on. “This other Brenda knows something the public Brenda is loath to admit: ‘public Brenda’ is not a complete person. Not yet. She must embrace the hidden Brenda to become complete. And for this she must submit to an owner. She has to renounce her false freedom to find her true freedom. Right now, Number Ten, I see the other Brenda in your eyes. She knows what I'm saying is true."

  Brenda continued staring at him for a moment, and then suddenly she blinked. The spell was broken. “Stop it. Stop it!" she screamed, covering her ears. “You're wrong! There's only one of me. I'm not some kind of slave inside. I'm not!"

  He waited for her to calm down. “We shall see, princess,” he said soothingly. “But for now, get yourself dressed. I've brought you your outfit to start today's training.” He motioned toward the dresser where she saw a small pile of neatly folded pink clothing.

  She rose and picked up the first item, a pink sports bra. Below the bra was a pair of pink gym shorts, and at the bottom of the pile was a pair of pink ankle socks. She was surprised to see her own running shoes on the floor next to the dresser. They had obviously been to her apartment to retrieve some of her things.

  "Put them on,” said Sanders.

  "Yes, sir,” she said as she started to slip on the bra. “Does this mean we'll be working out today?"

  "You will be,” he laughed.

  When she was finished dressing, he leaned forward in his chair. “Just stand there a minute. Yes. So nice. Turn to the side. That's it."

  He fell silent for a moment. With his eyes on her now, she felt more naked than when she had actually been naked just a few minutes before.

  "Bend over and touch your toes,” he said presently. “There. Yes. Such fine supple legs. Straighten up again. Good girl. Turn toward me again. Yes. There's that taut tummy again."

  "Th—thank you, sir,” she mumbled, unsure how to respond to his verbal appreciation.

  "And how well you obey!” he added.

  "Thank you, sir,” she murmured again, blushing.

  He got to his feet and approached her, pulling a short length of rope from his pocket as he did. “Turn around, Number Ten. Hands in back."

  "But Mr. Sanders, you don't have to tie me up.” She spoke even as she complied with his order, knowing her complaint would fall on deaf ears. His silence confirmed her suspicion. Resigned, she clasped her hands together and waited for the bite of the cord around her wrists.

  Instead, he wrapped the rope around her elbows, drawing them back so they almost touched behind her. She gasped as though experiencing such a tie for the first time. Guess I'd better get used to the feeling, she told herself.

  After knotting the cord in place, he stooped down and bound her knees together as well. Then he stood and headed for the door.

  "Come along, Number Ten. Breakfast first."

  Brenda stifled a complaint as she shuffled after him. Well, she reminded herself, remembering her experiences from the previous day, at least I'm in running shoes and not heels.

  Sanders led her to the simulator room, which apparently served double duty as a dining room. It was set up with a long table and a buffet counter. At the table sat Sammie, Amy, and two girls she didn't recognize. They were all dressed as she was, but their hands were cuffed in front of them, allowing them to eat without too much trouble.

  "Help yourself,” said Sanders, pointing to the buffet.

  "Don't you have to cuff my hands in front first?"

  "No,” was his maddening, monosyllabic reply.

  "But how can I eat with my elbows tied like this?” she whined.

  "Figure something out, Ten. If you're hungry, that is."

  "I am hungry!” she said, realizing how long it had been since she'd last eaten.

  "Hunger is a good motivator. Just don't spill anything,” he added with a chuckle.

  Again, she had to bite her tongue as she hobbled her way to the buffet. The pickings were pretty scant for an operation that could afford to fly a 737 across the country with only five clients on board. There were fruit cups, an assortment of cereals, soy milk, yogurt, and bagels. The only other beverage was orange juice.

  This is it? she thought. Not even coffee?

  She managed to grab a tray without too much trouble and guided it into place in front of the bagels. They seemed the best choice of satisfying her hunger with the least potential for making a mess.

  Half turning, she leaned over the counter and stretched her hand to grab one of the bagels and plop it onto her tray. Then she grabbed another. As for the other selections, she couldn't even imagine how she could eat them with her arms trapped behind her, so she skipped the rest and headed to the table with her tray grasped behind and her pair a bagels sliding around on it.

  "Hi, Number Ten!” said Sammie. The redhead seemed genuinely pleased to see her.

  "Hi yourself,” groused Brenda, unsure how she should feel about being singled out for the behind-the-back bondage. She headed for an empty seat, turned to blindly set the tray down on the table, and then sat down herself.

  "Don't feel slighted,” said Sammie. “We all had to struggle like that at first. You have to earn the right to have your hands in front."

  "Oh, okay,” murmured Brenda. It was small comfort, though, as she leaned forward and tried to bite off a piece of bagel. It wasn't easy, but she finally got a bit to chew on. Frustrated, she looked around. “Can anyone help me, at least?"

  "Sorry, Ten, we can't,” said Sammie. “We'd be punished for it.” Brenda noticed her glance nervously toward Sanders.

  "Fine,” sighed Brenda.

  "By the way,” added Sammie, gesturing toward the two strangers, “this is Number Four, and Number Seven."

  Brenda looked up briefly, just long enough to take in a quick assessment of the other girls. Number Four was a petite black girl with bold eyes and short, almost manly hair which only worked on her because of her feminine features. Number Seven was yet another blonde, with hair down to the small of her back.

  "Nice to meet you,” said Brenda, staring again at her bagel and planning her next angle of attack.

  "Number Eight was telling us you got to fly on your first day on the job!” said Number Four.

  Brenda shrugged. “Is that good?” Her words were half mumbled as her mouth was full of another bite of bagel.

  "Well, I think so. It means he had confidence you could handle it. I didn't go on an actual flight for a whole week!"

  "I see,” said Brenda. Her mind was on more immediate concerns, however. “So, how do I earn use of my hands to eat! I'm going to starve like this!"

  "Just do what he tells you,” said Sammie, “and you'll be fine."

  * * * *

  Sanders sat back across from the dining table and watched Brenda's attempts to eat her bagel. She probably wasn't even aware of how she flapped her virtually useless forearms for balance whenever she leaned down to try taking a bite. He waited until she had successfully managed to swallow about half the bagel and then he stood.

  "All right, ladies,” he announced. “Breakfast time's over. Come on to the exercise room."

  "But—"

  "No complaining, Number Ten!"

  "But—"

  "One more word, and I'll have to punish you."

  Brenda groaned and stared at the food she'd hard
ly touched. Sanders could hear her tummy gurgle pitifully. As the other girls stood, she quickly chomped down for one last bite of the half-eaten bagel. He said nothing, but motioned with a stern look for her to get moving.

  The exercise room was through a door across from the training room. Inside were several treadmills and Bowflex resistance machines for working isolated muscle groups.

  As the other girls began stretching, Brenda remained by the door. Sanders sauntered over to one of the treadmills. He turned and looked across at Brenda's fearful expression. He had a good idea what was on her mind.

  "Number Ten,” he called to her. “Come here."

  "Yes, sir."

  She hobbled over to him, and he immediately stooped down and began untying her knees.

  "Oh, thank you, sir! For a minute there I was afraid you were going to make me get on one of these things with my legs still tied."

  Sanders chuckled. “Don't put it past me. But that would only be for my amusement. It wouldn't actually provide you much in the way of exercise."

  He pulled the rope from her legs and stood again. Brenda turned her back to him and flexed her fingers.

  "What are you doing, Number Ten?” he asked.

  "I—Well—I thought you were going to untie my elbows, too."

  "Now, why would I do that? You don't need arms to run."

  She turned toward him, staring at him in alarm. “But—I do need them! For balance."

  "You'll be fine. Trust me."

  "Ohh!” she whined and began to step onto the treadmill.

  "Not so fast, Ten."

  "What now?" she blurted out without thinking. “Oh! I'm sorry, sir!” she added quickly. “I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

  Sanders couldn't help laughing. “And to think the Sheik wanted you as is. I'll let that go for the moment, Ten, because you need to get your exercise this morning. But first, I need to make a few necessary additions to your workout ensemble."

  He took the rope that he had just removed from her knees and circled her waist with it. After pulling it snug, he formed a knot just below her belly button, leaving a long strand loose. He then took the free length and guided it downward, working it between her thighs and back up between her ass cheeks. Finally, he pulled it tight, making sure it pressed neatly down the center of her pussy, before tying the end to the waist rope in back.