Controlling Christine, Book One
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Controlling Christine, Book One by JG-Leathers
Christine sleeps in a specially hidden cell and is outfitted by her master John with a series of restraints – a shiny collar, waist cincher, and cuffs that ring her ankles and wrists. Becoming her master’s slave begins with these simple measures, but more elaborate bondage follows as her master’s demands on her increase. She soon agrees to having the restraints welded closed, so that they become permanent fixtures on her body. Connecting chains, a nose ring and more sophisticated restraints are added to her permanent attire. Then in a daring public display of her submission, he outfits Christine for a solo shopping trip, during which she’ll navigate the city wearing the elaborate restraints barely concealed under her clothes. As difficult as her life becomes, John’s stringent control plays to her deeply masochistic fantasies and she finds herself powerless to stop her descent into 24/7 slavery.
Eventually, she is attended to by a very special ‘Butler’, whose implacable demands for compliance are reinforced with merciless and frequently applied electrical encouragement. Forced to relent to a unique kind of ‘schooling’, her sensory input is taken to shocking extremes as she endures increasingly difficult demands from her persistently inventive master.
She is no longer a ‘normal’ female by any sense of what is normal. Her life is now a bizarre mix of bondage, pain, punishment and sexual torment. A chastity belt, anal plugs, gags, hobbles, a rubber helmet and breathing mask define her experience, along with milking, strenuous exercise, body modifications and humiliating public exhibition when she’s forced to interact with the vanilla world.
In this newest offering from JG-Leathers, his singular vision of female submission plays out in rich detail with fascinating characters and surprising new twists fantasy world of extreme bondage.
Portions of this story were previously published as Controlling Christine, I. This new version of Controlling Christine, Book One includes an additional volume of new and previously unpublished material.
Cover Art Image Christine Cartwright – www.digitalldesign.com
I knew that Christine was more than a little reluctant to have to wear the bright, heavy steel rings, but she had eventually consented to having them fitted, a month previously, as my birthday gift to her.
Until now I’d left them pretty much alone, ensuring that all of the piercings healed completely and no complications arose from the emplacement of the multiple holes now willingly resident in her flesh. I wanted to make absolutely sure that all of the thick, surgical-quality, stainless steel bonds (for that is, in reality, what they were, rather than jewellery, as she’d initially thought) weren’t going to cause any unforeseen problems. She wasn’t entirely happy about being required to wear them day and night and was even less enamoured of the idea when they were welded closed so that she couldn’t, on her own, free herself of them. They were, from that point forward and to all intents and purposes, irremovable. She though, had gradually grown accustomed to their weight and inescapable presence and eventually stopped complaining. Certainly, I’d teased her occasionally by grasping one or another and giving it a playful little flip, but for the most part just ignored them, intentionally.
Over the past six months, I’d made her more and more mine.
I had progressively fitted her first with plain, though very shiny, steel jewellery-like wrist- and ankle-cuffs. Next had come a wide and quite thick collar, and finally, a specially formed and quite severe steel waist cinch. Each time a new piece or set of pieces was fitted, I’d allowed a couple of weeks to pass uneventfully and she’d, again, gradually grown used to their weight and feel.
Although we hadn’t made any concrete plans as to the future joining of our lives, we both knew that it would happen eventually and in our various discussions, had covered the area of becoming partners in great detail. After some soul-searching, we’d decided that we really didn’t want to have the responsibility of children in our lives, and so, two weeks previously, I’d taken her back to The Clinic and had all of her cuffs, the cinch, and her collar welded closed also. They too had become, like her rings, completely irremovable.
Today it was time to acquaint her with some of the more arcane purposes of her exotic jewellery.
“Christine!” I called quietly through the now unlocked door to her bedroom/cell. It was hidden behind a sliding panel and the clothing in my closet, locking electronically from my bedside table. For a moment there was no motion from the dimly lit hump of her body under the gleaming black rubber sheet, then with a subdued clatter of her bed restraints, she writhed slowly, trying to sit up. Her wide green eyes stared back at me above the securely locked-on restriction of the rubber and steel appliance that cupped and imprisoned her lower face and head. “Time to get up, honey, and face the new day. I’ve got plans.”
“Mmmmpphhgg,” she moaned, closing her eyes and beginning to slide back into the warm, slippery rubber cocoon of her bed.
“Come on, dear!” I cajoled, “Time to rise and shine.”
“Uuurrrghh!!” she protested, kicking at the restricting rubber that covered her until it eventually slipped from the thick-skinned foam mattress with a heavy slithering, to reveal the dully gleaming, sweat-slicked inner surfaces. The tightly strung, strong rubber straps locked to the side rings of her steel cinch came into full view. These were only one set of the restraint network that kept her a prisoner in the bed. She lay looking at me reproachfully when I turned the lights to full brightness on entering the black-walled, ceilinged and carpeted chamber.
“I guess I’ll have to release you, hmm?” I asked, walking over to the queen-sized, platform bed and looking down at her small, restrained and delectable body. She nodded vigorously, tugging her hands and arms against the chains that connected them to the front of her deeply cinched belt. She was secure enough but as a matter of course I checked her fastenings. There was no wear on her chains or the straps connecting her body and ankles to their mounts in the steel frame of the bed and as was normal procedure, she bent forward and I checked her collar chain. No wear showed and of course the chain remained virtually unmarked.
“Okay, dear. Hang on a minute while I release these tensioners.”
I bent down and flipped the release lever for her left side cinch strap and while walking around the end of the bed, unlocked her loosely connected ankle chain also, then flipped up the lever on the right side tensioner. Both devices were located at floor level, beneath the overhang of the frame, so there was no possible way she could get at them once they were adjusted and locked closed. Her wrists were next, then I unlocked the back-of-the-collar bed-leash from its fitting on the headboard leaving the leash connected to her collar. She sat up, gesturing to her gag.
“Oh, all right. I guess I better get you out of that thing too, hmm?”
“Uuuhh!! Uuuhhnn!” she nodded emphatically, swinging her feet to the side of the bed and turning her back to me. When she turned, the long, gleaming, light-weight, ‘reminder chains’ that permanently connected her wrist cuffs to her collar back-ring as well as the other set between her ankle-cuffs and the side rings of her belt flashed and swung in bright, musically clinking loops.
I parted her cascading hair to reveal the wide, locked band of the gag at the nape of her neck and immediately connected her longer ‘house’ leash, then, with a quick couple of passes of the electronic key, released her from the bed leash and her gag. She reached up and slowly peeled the formed, woven steel wire, rubber-covered, face strap and chin-cup away from her flesh then turned to me.
“Now I suppose you want me to take the gag-pad out too?” I asked in teasing shock at her temerity.
“Umm hmmmngh!” she nodded emphatically, missing my attempt at humour while she struggled to free herself of the huge, form-fitted, rubber pad, this held captive behind and by her teeth, inside her mouth. I unbuckled the narrow inner ‘security’ strap that kept it deeply inserted, pulling at the corners of her lips. She relaxed slightly then struggled to draw them back, opening her mouth as widely as possible, but was still unable to expel the silencing pad. Reaching to her face, I slowly worked a pair of wide, spatulate tweezers between her teeth then squeezed the grips forcefully, flattening the thick resilient pad just enough to get it past her teeth, something she couldn’t manage on her own. It withdrew slowly, accompanied by a sucking sound and for a moment she silently worked her jaws.
“Thank God that thing’s off!” she whispered hoarsely, licking her full lips. She stood then turned and looked up at me from her diminutive five foot two height. “Rubber ducky time?” she asked with an impish smile.
“Yep!” I grinned back at her, “Time to get your butt into the shower! Today’s going to be very interesting for you.”
“Oh?” she inquired archly, staring back at me over her delicate, sun-browned shoulder when she walked past the deeply padded, steel door of her cell and out into my bedroom with a sexily inviting sway of her generous hips. “What have you got planned for me today, you great big evil Master?”
“For the moment, sweetie, you’re going to have to wonder!” I grinned back at her. “Time for your shower and make-up. I’ll go down and start the coffee while you get yourself fixed up, Okay?”
“Okay!” her voice echoed from the en suite, almost lost in the rushing sounds of the shower cascading into the tub.
I emerged from her cell, closed and locked its door, then slid the concealing panel across and went downstairs to the kitchen.