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Dound to Dance Part 1 Ilsa glanced through the frosted glass window - cold snaps gave her a chill that went straight to her bones. Might as well just leave her leotards on and give herself an extra layer of warmth. As she slid her jeans over her tights, a sigh escaped. Rehearsals had run long - all the "chorus" types were already long gone, but Morris has insisted he wanted her to stay back and work on some "fine-tuning" of her moves. The time had been well spent - she had to admit that as she shimmied into her plush sweater and buttoned it up, but still. ... it was very late and very dark . Rather eerie. Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she tugged her boots on, tucking her pant legs neatly inside before reaching for her suede coat. The theatre is in a good neighborhood - hasn't been an incident around here for about two years. And even that hadn't been a mugging or anything. One of the dancers had simply disappeared one night. No signs of foul-play, as the police called it. In fact, it had pretty basically been written off as the woman just up-and-leaving without leaving a forwarding address. Hands deep in her pockets, she exited through the rear door, hesitating at a pitiful sound. Kittens? Here? Looking around, she spotted the blanket covered basket not far from the stairs and carefully knelt down to peer inside. Lifting the blanket revealed a pair of absolutely gorgious kittens - her heart melted. "Oh...poor little things.... who could've le-Ummmmmph!" She hadn't heard the stealthy approach and now that a quick move had shoved some rag or other into her mouth, Ilsa quickly discovered that her kneeling position had left her horribly vulnerable. Something chill and smelly was clamped over her nose as the man kept her down as the kitten watched from their basket with wide, uncomprehending eyes. Just before she lost consciousness, she heard a soft whisper by her ear. "Good bait.... works almost everytime. " ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ She awoke on a cold hardwood floor - just like the dance studio floors she was so very, very used to. Fully dressed as she had been when taken - the cloth was no longer in her mouth though. She was inside.... a corral of sorts made from dance balance bars - with more than one difference. The top bar was where it should be - just over waist-high, but there were two other sets of bars as well - one around ankle height and the other at knee-height. The corner posts were bolted to the floors and about five foot apart - she was in the center of the square. Spotlights brightly illuminated her square...and left the rest on the room in utter blackness. A voice came over an overhead speaker. "Good evening, Miss Ilsa. Very nice to have you awake again. You are a bit.... over-dressed for the occasion, however. " From the shadows, something was tossed that landed near her with a metallic clatter. "Pick those up - and stand. Now. " Shaking at the coldness of that voice, her eyes looked to the metal and discovered a pair of bandage scissors. With a trembling hand, she drew them to her - but made no move to stand yet. "Disobediance will not be tolerated, Miss Ilsa - you are a dancer. You understand discipline, so do not try my patience by pretending otherwise. " Her eyes widened as a long snake-like leather braid came horribly close to her - the crack as it popped sounded like thunder. She scrambled to her feet - trembling inside her fur-lined coat. "Much better, Miss Ilsa...I knew you'd be a quick study. Now - let's take off that coat, shall we?" Her hands moved to the top button, only to freeze as the whip snaked out of the shadows again. "Lesson number two, Miss Ilsa. You not only do what I say, you do it the way I want it done. Now .... take hold of your top button with your left hand. Pull it out from you. Take the scissors I gave you and sever the threads. " With her tremors, it took her several horribly long seconds to saw through the threads, but finally she was left holding the button. A click and another spotlight flared to life - illuminating a pail about six feet outside of her corral. "See the bucket? Toss the button into it. There will be a penalty later for misses. " Aiming at targets had never been her strong point and the button missed the bucket - badly. Eyes filling with tears as the button bounced into the unyielding shadows, she turned toward the direction the whip always came from. "Please.... please I'll.... " The whip cracked again and her voice choked off in terror. Something new came flying into her enclosure -- it reminded her of a horse's bridle. "Put down your scissors, Miss Ilsa .... and pick up your head harness. You apparently need reinforcement that dancers are to be seen, not heard. " Part 2 Openly weeping now, but too afraid of the whip to refuse, Ilsa dropped back to her knees and let the scissors clatter to the floor as she groped for the cold leather "harness". Blinking back her tears, she looked it over - not having much of a clue what she was supposed to do with it, turning it over in her hands. "Pay careful attention, Miss Ilsa - you will not get a second chance to do this correctly. Any deviation from my exact instructions will be met with immediate and ......distasteful punishment. Nod if you understand that. " She bobbed her head, now viewing the harness as if she suddenly found herself holding a snake. A poisonous one. "Very good. Now, I trust you can find the rubber coated round part? Open your mouth and insert that inbetween your teeth with the upside down Y-strap up. " Pausing just long enough to wipe her nose off, Ilsa moved the harness into position - nearly panicing at how far she had to open her mouth to admit the foul-tasting intruder. Still.... the whip was a powerful incentive and once the ring was solidly in her mouth, she looked to the shadows for her next instruction. "Now - take the straps at the sides of your mouth behind your head. Find the buckle - tighten the straps until they are snug. " Moving in her still fully buttoned coat which was now starting to feel uncomfortably warm was a bit awkward, but she managed. Despite the coat, a cold chill running down her spine as she felt the leather press against her face. "Now, feel the two small straps attached on either side just behind your mouth? Yes, those are the one. Run them under your chin and buckle them under your chin. Come now - quit dawdling, Miss Ilsa. If you'd kept quiet, you wouldn't be having to go through this now. " Swallowing, she did as instructed. Tears again began to flow as she waited for the cold voice to continue. In the shadows, however, her captor was in no hurry. None at all. He was savoring every second of her slowly robbing herself of the ability to speak as another man might savor a glass of fine wine. "Take that top strap now. Your nose will go through the opening. Take the strap over the top of your head and find the buckle for it on the top of the straps coming from the sides of your mouth. Lucky for you that your hair is already short or you'd have to cut it off now. Tighten it. More. Yes.... that's quite nice. The look suits you, Miss Ilsa. Care to see?" Another click - another flare of light. This one illuminated a full-length mirror to one side. Ilsa turned her head toward the mirror and flinched. Was that really her with the tear-streaked face behind those dark leather straps? Just as suddenly as it had been lit, the mirror went dark again. "Re-pick up your scissors, Miss Ilsa. That coat still has far too many buttons. Stand up again - do each button in turn just like you did the first one. Each one is to be tossed into the pail after being removed. " Her coat had six buttons remaining - of them, only three went inside the pail. Coat hanging open now, she again stopped for instruction. "Pull your right arm out of the coat sleeve. Correct. Now the left. Drape the coat over the back rail and remove your boots. Right one first. " Ilsa made use of the rails, leaning against it as she pulled her right boot free - exposing her foot which was covered by a gaily covered sock that she'd pulled over her tights. The left boot followed and her toes twitched nervously as she again waited. "Bundle the boots up inside of your coat and throw the bundle as far away from your area as you can. You will be judged on the distance of your throw. " Hurridly making the bundle, her tongue ran over the rubber covered piece forcing her to keep her mouth open. She was being judged on everything.... from obediance to tossing buttons. What would penalties entail? Even trying to think of it frightened her. The bundle was heaved away.... and the voice spoke again. "Not too bad, Miss Ilsa. But you are still far over-dressed for the occasion. " Another toss into her enclosure. A small bag that had been weighted by a stone to make it easier to throw. "Remove each and every piece of jewelry and place it into the bag. One item at a time. Start with your earrings. Right one first. " As his unwilling "guest" blindly groped to remove the backing from her earring, he smiled. Just as satisfying as it had been....... two years ago. Part 3 As her last ring, freshly tugged from her finger, was dropped into the bag, she looked back to the shadows again. "Tie the bag - toss it into the bucket. " He smiled as she managed to get the bag into the bucket. Getting better all the time. Now for the acid test. Another toss - another bag skidding into her area. "Miss Ilsa, you will put your scissors in the corner, then pick up the bag and open it. " Leaving the scissors behind was a pleasure, but she approached the bag with trepidation. Not a big bag - weighted, like the other, with a stone. Opening it, she tugged out something that felt like silk. Black silk. "Drop the bag to the floor - and pull the hood over your head. " The command was simple and cold - and terrifying. Her hands and eyes quickly explored the hood. No holes - not for eyes, not for nose, not for mouth. Mewling in terror through her ring gag, she dropped the hood to the floor. This time, the slender and supple whip didn't stop short - it popped against her upper left arm and got her attention immediately. "Obviously, the harness is no longer enough to keep you silent and your mind on your tasks, Miss Ilsa. Sit down. " Hand on her aching arm, Ilsa obeyed immediately - he had proved the point that the whip would be used when he felt like it. "Remove your right sock. Slowly. That's better. Left sock......good. Shake them out. Did you put on fresh socks today? For your sake, I hope so. Push them through the ring in your mouth one at a time - make sure you poke them into the sides of your mouth as well as you can. " As she stared at him wide-eyed, the whip cracked directly over her head. "That was not a suggestion - that was an order. " Fighting to overcome her desire to gag, Ilsa forced the first sock through the ring - thankful that her socks were crew socks rather than over-the-calf. Her socks were fairly clean.... still the thought of having to stuff her mouth with her footwear was nauseating. Part of the second sock protruded through the ring , but she couldn't force it in any further. Fearful of the whip, she looked back to the horribly dark shadows. "That will do for now. You will repick up your hood - you will put it on. Do not make me wait any longer. You've tried my patience enough, Miss Ilsa. " As her timorous hands tugged down the hood and robbed her of her sight, he stood and smiled. "Excellent. Now stand. Feel your way over to a side. That will do. Raise your right leg - hook your ankle over the top bar. " Now that she couldn't see him, he moved to her - a razor sharp blade in hand. A careful slice about three inches long up the front of the jean's leg from the bottom. He made her switch legs, then put a matching slice in the left leg. Then he retreated to his seat in the shadows. "You may remove your hood now, but you must fold it neatly and lay it next to your scissors. The socks will remain where they are. " He smiled at how quickly she pulled the hood free and at the look of disgust in her eyes at the socks. "I started the work for you. You will grab on either side of the cut in your right pants' leg - and rip. All the way to your waist. " Her newest sob didn't get far past her stuffed mouth. Bad enough having to undress for this madman...but her clothing was being destroyed every step of the way. But.... she thought of the whip - and she knew he had a knife as well. One sharp enough to cut through canvas easily. Eyes filled with fresh tears, she yanked and slowly worked the rip up her leg. As expected, the left leg was soon similarly ruined. "Those pants look in bad shape, Miss Ilsa. I think you'll be better off without them. Unbutton them..." A whip crack. "I hadn't given you permission to touch the zipper. I believe that calls for another penalty. I won't collect ...yet. But remember all of your mistakes will be paid for eventually. I would advise you, Miss Ilsa, not to run up too large of a tab. Now.... unzip the pants. Push past your hips - let the rags drop. Kick them away. Now she stood - her bottom half covered by the lower part of her leotards and tights.... her upper half still covered with her sapphire blue sweater. She clutched the soft wool to her like a security blanket as she closed her eyes. Why was he doing this to her? "You look better, Miss Ilsa. Yes.... much better. But.... I fear you are still overdressed. Go pick your scissors up again. " Part 4 Ilsa clutched at her sweater, but to her surprise, the voice had other things in mind. "Sit down, Miss Ilsa. I dislike the feet in your tights. I want to see what your toes look like. If they please me, I will give you a treat. " Sitting down with the scissors in hand, she wore a very puzzled expression. But she waited for the voice to instruct her -- much to his pleasure. "With your left hand, take hold of your tights at your right ankle and snip them...all the way around the ankle now. Pull off the foot part and lay it beside you. Left leg - done exactly the same. Now.... lay the scissors down and come over to the rails nearest me. Put your left foot over the bottom rail and let me get a good look at it. " She flushed just a touch - unlike her fingernails, which were done in a sophisticed French manicure, her toenails were a vivid candy-apple red. She'd just had a pedicure not two days before, so the polish was still bright and unchipped. "Your toes please me. " A dull thud as a gift wrapped lingerie' box landed inside the enclosure. "You may not open the box until you make a choice, Miss Ilsa. I will allow you to choose the gag that you will wear for the remainder of the day. You will either continue to chew on your socks -- which will have to be pressed the rest of the way in and the feet of your tights tucked in after them -- or you may instead choose to be gagged with the contents of the box. I will only guarantee you two things. Number one - what is in the box will fit in your mouth and number two, the contents have never been worn. Hear the ticking? I'm setting a kitchen timer for 45 seconds. Before the bell rings, you will show me your choice. If you want to keep the socks, you will begin pressing the remainder of the second sock into your mouth. If you want to be gagged with what is in the box, you will pull the socks from your mouth. If you make no move either direction? You will receive a reminder to make up your mind from my whip. " The timer must have been set down right next to his mike - the ticking sounded loud.... ominous. She stared at the box - whatever was in there had to be better than having to keep her dirty socks in her mouth. With fully half her time left, she began to tug the socks back out. "Put the socks to the side, Miss Ilsa. You have made your choice. You will live with it. Open the box. " Live with it? A sense of trepidation now filled her as she ripped through the wrap covering the box. It was ...heavier than she'd expected it to be. Removing the box top and the tissue papper, she gasped as her eyes grew wider than they'd possibly ever been in her life. Instead of the panties she'd been expecting to have to stuff her mouth with, the box was filled with a realistically formed cock. A short pause - then she heard the ticking start again. He didn't have to say a word - she knew what would happen if the bell rang before she inserted that obscenely large seeming hunk of rubber into her mouth. Steeling herself not to gag on it, she fitted the penis-plug through the hole of her ring gag until it locked into place. Back in the shadows, he watched her intently as she unknowingly inserted her gag in a slow and rather sensuous manner. He especially rather liked the way she'd closed her eyes as the last inch of the penis had entered her mouth. "Look back in the box, Miss Ilsa. See the small piece of leather with the two snaps on it? The other halves of those snaps are studded on either side of your mouthpiece. Snap it into position now. " He had to move the mike away from his mouth. It wouldn't do for her to hear him chuckle as she obeyed the latest command without hesitation. Quite likely it hadn't dawned on her yet just how thoroughly she had herself gagged now. "Your tights look rather ragged, Miss Ilsa. Cut them off just above your knee - try to make it neater than your first attempt. " Of course, as he knew it would, her second attempt looked no better than her first. "Still too messy - cut them off just below your leotards. " Another pause. "No...this just isn't working. Reach up your leotard's right leg opening and pull the waist band of the tights down. Cut through it. Left side of the waistband? Good, good.... now tug that scrap off and stand up. " Shivering again, Ilsa stood as directed, her long, shapely legs now fully bare, though her torso was still very modestly attired in her underwear, leotards and sweater. Her hands plucked nervously at the soft wool - waiting tensely. "Up on your toes, Miss Ilsa - hands over your head. Stretch - yes, that's it. Lower yourself - spin. Again. To the bar now -- first position. Warm-up time. " Softly, a selection from the ballet Giselle began to play. Mystified, Ilsa went through the motions of a ballet warm-up, stretching her muscles and, without her knowledge, she began to relax. The rigidity and familiarity of the deeply engrained excercises lulled her mind. A lull that ended abruptly as the music ceased and his voice rang out again. "You pleased me again, Miss Ilsa - enough so that I will give you some jewelry to replace that you lost. " Another small bag skidded to her feet. "Sit down and I will instruct you how I like to see them worn. " Unused to excercising with a mouth-filling gag, Ilsa was breathing heavily as she sat. At his next instruction, she opened the bag and poured out two set of open rings joined with small chain links. They reminded her of tiny handcuffs. "Pull your right foot into your lap - fasten an end of one set around your big toe. The other is for your little toe. Snuggly now - you will not enjoy it if I am forced to adjust them for you. Feet together now - sole to sole. Now cuff the toes on your left foot. " Concentrating on her task with her tired and half-numbed mind, Ilsa closed the final ring - then suddenly noticed just how.... open her crotch area was now. And to her dismay, she quickly discoved that with her feet cuffed together as they were, trying to close her legs was a difficult proposition at best. In fact, strain as she could, she couldn't even come close to making her knees meet. In the midst of her growing panic, the voice washed over her like a bucket of ice-cold water. "You are doing very well so far, Miss Ilsa...but now it's time for you to make another choice. " Part 5 At the flat statement from the voice, Ilsa gave a cry of dismay - or at least, she attempted to. Her eyes widened once more as it dawned on her just how thoroughly the gag had robbed her of the ability to make sounds. A noise drew her eyes again -- yet another box was sliding to a stop near her. "Open the box, Miss Ilsa - then I'll tell you your options. " With more than a little trepidation comsidering what was in the last box, Ilsa lifted off the lid to expose a two-inch wide belt. Handling it like a snake, she gingerly lifted it from the box - it wasn't like any otehr belt she'd ever seen. Places for other straps to attached were obvious and gave her a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her eyes moved from the leather back to the shadows - dreading the next words. "You will be putting that belt around your waist, Miss Ilsa - but the belt must be against your flesh. Your choice is this. Remove you sweater and pull down your leotard to put it on or use the scissors to cut through the crotch and push your leotards up. " In the shadows, he smiled and set the timer next to the microphone again. He was betting that she wouldn't give up her sweater - while she still had the choice. The ticking.... how much time did she have? Take off her sweater.... no...no.... not that. Her throat worked as her hand repicked up the scissors and began to cut through the material. It wouldn't matter.... after all, her panties would still.... cover everything. As she began to pull her leotards up enough to fit the belt into place, he noted that her panties matched the color of her leotards - royal blue. Nice touch. "Make sure the belt is snug, Miss Ilsa - we wouldn't want it to chafe you, would we? Very good - now put the lid back on the box and toss it toward where you tossed your coat. " She obeyed almost mechanically and threw the box away as best as she could. Then she nervously plucked at her sweater. "You've been doing very well, Miss Ilsa. Well enough that I will reward you with another treat. " Her heart sank as another box slid into her enclosure - whatever this "treat" was, she was sure it wasn't one she wanted. Part 6 The voice, as always, was firm. "Open the box, Miss Ilsa - it's rude to reject a present. " Feeling scarcely able to breath, she pull off the top and then the layer of padding. The blood left her face and she felt faint. The box contained an assortment of eight different dildos - of various lengths, textures and thicknesses. The box top and padding fell from her hands as she stared at them. "A very nice selection, I'm sure you'll agree. Now - you need to choose out two for yourself. One for your back passage - one for your front. " It was too much. With a barely auidble sob, she raised a hand to swat the offending box away, but before she could, the voice rang back out and froze her arm. "Stop that this instant!" Then an irritated sigh came over the speaker. "I can see I have to spell things out for you, Miss Ilsa. This adds more penalty points to your record. " A short pause - she could hear him take a sip of something. "Now - let us face facts, Miss Ilsa. Just what to you hope to gain by bad behavior? Even assuming that there are those nearby that might be able to hear you should you scream out, do you honestly beleave that you could unsnap the cover and remove the plug before I could reach you to silence you? Answer me! Trembling and fearing the whip, she shook her head. No.... she couldn't move that fast. "Correct. You couldn't. And even assuming the doors in this room were unlocked, could you run to them before I stopped you?" Tears forming again, Ilsa looked at her feet - chained sole to sole together by her own two hands. She couldn't stand, let alone run. Again, she shook her head. "Correct again. Now - let me further explain to you what will happen should you shove that box away. I will come inside of your enclosure and bind your arms. The penis will be taken from your mouth, shoved up your backside, then stuffed back into your mouth again. Then I will take the two largest dildos in my considerable collection and insert them for you. Have I made myself clear, Miss Ilsa?" As the pooled tears began to spill down her cheeks, Ilsa nodded numbly. It was true .... all of it. He could come in and do whatever he pleased. Her eyes moved back to the box. Pick out two herself......or have him do it for her. The ticking of the timer moved to the mike again and she forced herself to reach for the smallest of the box's contents, steeling herself to lift it from the box. In the shadows, he smiled again. A very trainable woman - yes, she would fit admirably among his students. Then he reached for the mike and spoke softly. "Oh, Miss Ilsa? It is time to pay for one of your penalty points. Lay the dildo back down for a moment - repick up the scissors and cut the sides of your panties. The penalty is to lose them. After you cut the sides, you will pull them from you, fold them neatly and lay them down with your hood. Do it now. " She had run out of tears for now, but her vision was blurred with the remanents as she did as ordered and slid the blades of the scissors into position and began to cut. Part of her mind tried to rebel - but Ilsa was a practical woman. He could do whatever he wanted - why invite him to come to her and do it roughly when she could do it herself and avoid that? She began to cut the other side. Every snip made her a little less her own woman and a little more his creature, but that thought never occured to her. If it had, she might have flung the scissors at the shadows in defiance......instead, she pulled her panties away from her own crotch and folded them neatly. The moment she laid them by the hood, the timer ticking began again. She needed no further prompting, her fingers dipped back into the box and retrieved the small penis she had originally chosen. Her feet still being linked sole to sole made the manuevering difficult, but she finally managed to get the tip into the entrance of her rectum - then she closed her eyes and eased it in. Again, the slowness of her movements.... the arch of her neck as her eyes closed...all of it was extrodinarily erotic to her silent watcher in the shadows. Even as she reached for the penis destined for her front passage, he ran the leather strap that would soon be added to her belt through his hands. Nearly time to take her to the next level.... and let her do it all to herself. Part 7 Ilsa's nostrils flared as her breathing quickened when the second dildo began to ease into her. Again, her captor in the shadows watched intently, still running the leather strap through his hands as he watched her. It seemed impossible to him that she could be so ignorant of the effect her arched neck and slow, almost teasing insertion was having on him. Still, she finally got it fully inserted and by her expression, she was a confusing mixture of aroused and uncomfortable. She was about to get more uncomfortable. As Ilsa was trying to get her breathing back under control, she heard his voice again. "You see? That wasn't so difficult, was it, Miss Ilsa? Now - let's make sure that nothing undoes your excellent work. " The leather strap was thrown from the shadow and bumped into her leg. "Pick up the strap, Miss Ilsa - it attaches to the front and back of your belt. And be sure that you get it snug enough to prevent any slipping. " Still flushed, Ilsa didn't even think of disobeying this command even though manuevering to attach the strap was extremely awkward with her feet still bound sole to sole. He didn't bother to wind the timer, he just sat back and enjoyed her twisting and grunting as she wrestled with his latest order. All in all, it must have taken her at least five minutes to get the belt in place and tightened enough to satisfy him. "One more notch - yes, yes.... that's much better, Miss Ilsa. Now I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. You've accumulated far too many penalty points. It's time to redeem some of them. " As her hands automatically clutched at her sweater, he smiled. He'd let her keep that for just a bit longer. "To halve your penalty points, you have a choice, Miss Ilsa. You may either cut the remains of your leotard free of your body -- or take 10 strokes of the whip. If you wish to lose the leotard, pick up the scissors. If you prefer the whip, bow your head and put your hands behind your back. If you do not chose one or the other within 30 seconds, you will suffer both. " The thought of the whip tearing into her flesh terrified her. She reached for the scissors so quickly that she nearly knocked them away by accident. The near-mistake unnerved her further and her hands were shaking badly as she worked her hands up inside her sweater to begin to slice the neck of her leotard. Despite her intentions, working on the sweaty leotard caused her sweater to ride up on her torso in a most enticing manner. He caught a glimpse of her bra - a sports one. Beige instead of the royal blue of her leotards and panties. Functional, but disappointing. Still, the swell of her breasts pressing against the fabric gave the promise of better things beneath. He gave a soft sigh of regret as she finally pulled the leotard free and tugged her sweater back down as low as it would go, but made sure his voice was composed before he spoke again. "Fold up the remains of your leotard and lay it in the box with the remaining dildos. Now.... as to the remainder of your penalty points accumulated so far..." Ilsa swallowed and closed her eyes as he paused - apparently considering the cost. "Your choice again. 10 lashes or you remove your bra. Thirty seconds. " She hesitated, her mind whirling. Then the clock began ticking again. Part 8 The clock kept ticking. With a sudden panic, Ilsa realised she had no idea how many seconds had already passed and how few might remain. She reached out for the scissors again - only to be halted by the voice. "No, Miss Ilsa. You did not listen to your instructions well. I did not tell you to cut off the bra, I told you to remove the bra. " Ilsa whimpered to plead around her gag - the only way to remove the sport bra would be to first remove her sweater so that she could pull the bra off over her head. She tried to tug her feet apart, but of course, the cuffs didn't give in the least. There was only one choice - the one he had given her. Lose the bra or face the whip. Hands shaking as badly as an addict in withdrawal, she clumsily unbuttoned her sweater and let it slide off of her shoulders. The man in the shadows smiled in silent but heady triumph as her hands next moved to pull the bra free of her breasts. They were almost exactly as he had pictured them - a touch larger perhaps, but nothing that would get in the way of her dancer's balance. Her nipples were a deep rosy pink and already 'at attention' from the chill hitting them combined with Ilsa's nerves. Her breasts were creamy white - no nude sunbathing in her past. And her stretching to pull her bra free made the two orbs quiver most appealingly. Beautiful. His. She dropped the bra and her hands darted for her sweater. Only to be halted by the voice again. "You have not finished, Miss Ilsa. Fold the bra and add it to the box before you close it and shove it away. Once you have done that, you may slip your sweater back on. " The folding of the bra and sending the box on its' way was done quickly. Ilsa snatched back up her sweater, but she didn't even have one arm fully in before she heard that sound again. A box sliding across the flooring. The box was a size that is commonly called a glove box. Slipping her other arm through the sweater sleeve, she stared at the box and swallowed hard. Now what? "You may not button the sweater, Miss Ilsa. Open your present. Now. " The voice, as always, left no room for argument. Ilsa gave her sweater a tug in the vain attempt to try and coax it into staying over her breasts, then picked up the box. The box's contents were simple - a pair of handcuffs and nothing else. Shuddering, she looked back to the shadows. "This next manuever will be a bit trickier for you, Miss Ilsa - but for a dancer of your flexibility, it should pose no real problem. Fasten one cuff to your right wrist. " With a resigned moan, Ilsa complied - though she winced at the sound of the metal locking into place. She looked to the dangling cuff, but her next instruction had nothing to do with it. "Miss Ilsa - we have come to the time to make use of it again. Pick your hood back up and put it on. " Part 9 Fingers feeling as numb as her mind, Ilsa picked the hood back up. It almost seems silly. Bound as she is, what more difference could the simple, thin hood make? Still - it made a difference to her. No choice though - and even though she experienced a sensation she could only imagine felt like a drowning person going under for the last time, she pulled the hood down over her head, feeling her nostrils flare and her eyes widen as they strove to breath and see through the dark fabric. "Well done, Miss Ilsa. Now - slowly scoot your way back until you feel the post at your back. " Smiling tightly, he watched as she obeyed - her slightly jerky, inching movements backwards making her charming breast jiggle in a most appealing fashion. The occasional light rub of the sweater was keeping her nipples hard and erect. The surrender was almost complete...just a little bit more. After what seemed to be a horribly long time, Ilsa finally felt the post behind. Her fingers nervously trailed along the surface as she waited tensely for her next instructions. Another soft skidding sound reached her ears. "Feel behind you, Miss Ilsa. It is within your reach. " The still dangling cuff rattled as her fingers reached back and found the leather strap. Under the hood, her brow. Another belt? "Take the strap around the pole and your torso - buckle it in the front. It needn't be tight but it must be snug. And to make sure that it is snug, take your sweater off and place it in your lap for now. " Laying the belt at her side, Ilsa slipped off her sweater slowly and shivered again. The soft material tickled her inner thighs as she deposited it into her lap before repicking the belt up. It took a bit of doing to get the belt in place and buckled snugly. She'd barely finished when she heard a noise behind her again. "Same thing, Miss Ilsa - but this one goes around the post, under your arms but over your breasts. Snugly. " The new leather belt was thinner, but it took her longer to work it into the right position due to the awkwardness. Finally getting it as snug as the voice demanded, her hands dropped back to her lap. Or at least, that's where they started for before the voice stopped her again. "Your last task before you can rest, Miss Ilsa. Put your hands behind the pole and lock the open cuff around your free wrist. " As Ilsa groped for the cuff, the man smiled. Then as he heard the click of the cuff locking, he laughed and moved over. "Yes, Miss Ilsa - you will do nicely. I have never had anyone package themselves up for me quite as nicely - or as thoroughly as you have. You must enjoy it..." Ilsa shook her head at that, trying to grunt through her gag in protest. The barely audible grunts turned in equally barely audible squeals as his hands engulfed both of her breasts. "Nonsense - if you hadn't enjoyed it somewhat, you'd have fought more. Refused. But you didn't. Just think, Miss Ilsa - every stitch of clothing, you removed yourself. Every one of your lovely orifices filled with cocks - inserted by your own delicate hands. Every chain and belt - all applied by you. Even the hood was pulled on by you. If you hadn't enjoyed doing it, you would have made me do it to you instead of doing it yourself. " As he continued to kneed her breasts with their horribly sensative nipples, he smiled to himself. Soon...he would have her mind as bound as her body. All dancers have to have strict discipline that they excercise on themselves. He merely had to redirect that discipline to those more in his tastes. |
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