Freedom of Restraint: Episode 5
"See you then," the tall, dark haired Miss Reed said as she hung up the phone. She slid the small black device shut and set it on top of a short squat chest that had been shoved against the wall. Her attention turned back towards the subject bound spread to the Saint Andrew's cross in the center of the room.
"Please Miss," the man begged. He no longer struggled against his restraints. Whether it was because he had grown weary, or because he knew it was futile remained unclear. Even if the knots weren't magically tied, Vivian Reed was an excellent rigger. Her subjects were always constrained to the degree of freedom she wanted to allow them.
His eyes couldn't help but scan her body. She knew he didn't deserve to see even a hint of skin, let alone all that was bared by her skimpy leather thong and sheer bra, but she knew her sexuality was an important element of control. That she could strike fear into his heart at the same time she struck arousal into his cock gave her many advantages.
In spite of the seriousness of the present situation, it was sticking outward at half mast, a pleasant, but unspectacular six inches of circumcised flesh. Miss Reed walked over and ran a hand lightly up his leg and over his package, causing it to stiffen considerably and start to turn upwards.
"Mmm," Miss Reed purred. "I'll have some fun with that later." She gripped the shaft with a gloved hand, giving it a few short strokes before bringing the other palm up swiftly. The man grunted and jumped as it came into contact with his balls and squeezed just enough to hurt.
His limbs came to life again, pulling at the ropes that held him fast. He had the stereotypically wiry muscular body of a nymph and the accompanying lack of strength. Nymphs tended to be gorgeous, if you were into thin, sometimes gaunt men and women, but those muscles were only for show. They weren't even as strong as most humans.
Content that she had his attention, Miss Reed stepped back a few paces. She whirled and cracked a whip across his bare stomach, painting a long and ugly red stripe. Several more slashes started to change the hue from his natural olive to a distinctly more tender color. Miss Reed moved downwards, abusing his legs, coming so close, but always just missing his quivering manhood. She had special plans for that.
The nymph's grunts slowly turned to whimpers as he struggled to maintain his composure. Miss Reed worked her way all the way down his legs before starting upwards once more. As she started to hit some of the previous wounds, the man started to cry. "Painful?" she asked without a hint of remorse. The man nodded weakly, slumping against the ropes. "Good," she said venomously as she cracked him hard on the stomach. A thin line of blood appeared before healing itself almost instantaneously.
Miss Reed hit him several more times, pausing after each to let the wounds heal before coiling the whip and setting it aside. "I'd love to burn the fuck out of you, but I can't have you setting fire to the place," she commented, knowing that her voice probably barely registered within the fire nymph's head.
Nymphs were split into four classes, based on the elemental force that they could control. They couldn't create something out of nothing, but when that force was present, they could control it with surprising grace. Their elemental prowess, however, was negated by a lack of actual physical strength. Like succubae and incubi, they were a race dependent upon sex for nourishment, but even with frequent encounters, their bodies remained weak.
"Please," the man gasped, rolling his head back and banging it against the edge of the cross.
"Please what," Miss Reed said harshly, squeezing and pulling on his balls once more. "There is no please, you fucked up, and now you're paying for it."
"I didn't know," he pleaded. "Ahh!"
"Bullshit," Miss Reed countered, digging her nails in and eliciting a scream. "You're willing to put your dick in anything, you're slutty even for a nymph. Age, race, you don't care. Truthfully, I don't either. Our culture has very lax standards when it comes to age and if you want to fuck children, you go ahead. It's when you try bringing one onto the premises that I have an issue. Do you have any idea what would happen if a twelve year old human girl was found here?" She pulled harder, prompting more noises from the nymph.
"You're lucky I don't rip these off," she said, finally letting go. The man tried to curl against his bonds in an effort to address the throbbing pain in his testicles. "I'm going to do the next best thing though," she said, opening the chest and reaching in.
After a short search she produced a small metal device. Stooping low, she grabbed the nymph's cock and slid it into the sleeve of the device. A pair of rings wrapped around the base of his cock and balls and the entire assembly was fastened together with a small black padlock. She took a step back and admired her work. She'd always been fond of chastity devices, especially as a means for keeping miscreants in line. Only a small bit of magic was necessary to seal the device on. It wouldn't do to have him attempting to cut it off, dangerous as that was.
The man registered what had happened for the first time and started to panic. "Chastity? How the hell am I supposed to get fucked, you're going to kill me!"
Miss Reed smiled and ran a hand down his side before squeezing his ass. "Oh you're going to get fucked. You're going to be one of the house slave for a week." An evil grin spread across her face as she left the room.
Miss Reed headed up out of the basement and over to the receptionists desk, telling the buxom young blond to prepare a bed to accommodate another house slave. The house slaves were a collection of about a half dozen uncollared submissives who pledged their loyalty and their services to FoR until they found a suitable Dom or Domme to collar them. FoR gave them a place to stay, a sense of service, and the means to look for someone to tether themselves to, and in return, the slaves provided sexual pleasure for the members of FoR as requested as well as a host of other services related to the upkeep of the establishment.
"A fucking twelve year old," she muttered as she headed up the stairs to her office to change. It was bad enough that she had to bribe health inspectors and a few law enforcement officials to keep their mouths shut. There were non-human members in several key positions, but sometimes it wasn't enough and money simply had to change hands. It was annoying at times, but it kept everyone out of the public eye and safe. But if a child became involved, especially a human child, no amount of money would matter. The story would get out and everyone in the city would be all over them in a heartbeat.
As a rule, humans generally weren't allowed in FoR. Only if they had some non-human lineage, or had been raised by non-humans. Letting too many people in regular society in on the clubs' secrets would be foolhardy at best. Plus humans tended to be less trusting, more motivated by greed, and less sexually mature than their non-human counterparts. It would be a disaster.
Miss Reed pulled a black skirt that stopped a few inches above her knees on over her thong and buttoned up a black collared shirt. She supposed she'd have to let the man free eventually, but for now she'd let him hang off the cross. He deserved it.
Pausing for a moment, she grinned maliciously before she called the front desk. "Call for Vek," she said sweetly to the young receptionist. "Tell him he's got a new toy he can play with in dungeon two."