Damsel in Distress for Hire

This is part of one of the middle chapters of the novel "Damsel in Distress for Hire". Claire works as a damsel in distress for hire. What began as a way to pay for her studies soon turns into an intense, dangerous journey of sexual awakening and self discovery as the lure of helpless surrender, shackles and chains threaten to take over every facet of her life. 

------------------

She could hear the doorbell ring behind the imposing door. It was not the unpleasant, jarring noise of a measly peasant’s doorbell, but a stately, welcoming ‘gong’. This doorbell was meant to announce people of means, of influence.

So, what the hell am I doing here? Claire became painfully aware of her worn clothes and old bomber jacket.

An elegant, petite woman opened the door and lit up in a blinding smile. The long silk dress hugged the slender body, and diamonds shone from the earrings and necklace. There were gentle streaks of gray in the ebony hair, but it only added class.

“Wonderful! You must be the decoration!” She shook Claire’s hand. A delightful scent of jasmine followed the woman. “Come on in, please!”

Claire felt like a farmer greeting the queen. “Thank you, nice place.” She struggled to find words that did not sound clumsy. Part of the agreement was ‘no names’, so she could not even ask that. Suddenly she found something in common with the fascinating woman. “Nice watch.”

The woman looked at the matching watches. “I know. Nice and heavy, right?” She winked.

She gets it.

The apartment opened into the largest living room Claire had ever seen. Her loft was generously spaced, but this living room was at least two stories high, with panoramic windows showing the glittering city lights to all sides.

So, this is the view from the top. How many hours do I have to spend tied up to afford this? Claire thought. Every item on display looked like it would cost a fortune to replace, and busy waiters buzzed around, preparing everything for the evening’s events. None of them even looked at the new arrival.

“We’ve given you the center stage, as you can see,” said the woman and smiled.

Claire bit her lip at the sight of three long, shiny chains that hung from a crossbeam in the middle of the room. She went up to them, inspected the shackles and collar attached at the ends. Matching ankle irons had been bolted to the floor.

She tucked at the chains. “Beautiful setup.”

“Glad you like it.” The woman let her finger run along the edge of the broad steel collar. “Can you keep up a standing spread eagle for the entire night?”

How would I know?

“You’re using SM Factory restraints, they are pretty comfortable, and the chains look like they won’t keep my arms at too severe an angle – that should ensure decent blood flow to the hands.” She winked at the woman. “The shoulder aches will just have to be part of the experience.”

“An experienced woman. Lovely.”

Claire had no idea if she could do it, but the way she saw it, there was no other option once the locks had clicked. This was going to be the longest bondage session she had ever done – she had agreed to stay bound until the party ended eight hours later. A lot of options had been ticked on the form; a lot of money transferred.

“Do you want me to…” she asked and pointed at the restraints. Her body ached for the feel of cold steel around her neck.

A playful smile formed on the porcelain face. “The guests won’t be here for another twenty minutes. Besides, this is not until later – dinner is the first item on the agenda.” She nodded at a waiter who approached carrying a rattling bag and a power drill. The smile became a burst of gentle laughter at the sight of Claire’s puzzled expression.

 

Claire had heard of body sushi before, but never bondage sushi. It was also the first time she had been locked to a dinner table, surrounded by the upper class, but she had heard that it was healthy to try something new every day. Instead of chains, the waiter had restrained Claire by bolting her to the table using U-shaped cuffs, collar, ankle restraints, and a belt. There was not a single centimeter of wriggle room; her body was completely immovable but comfortable – her arms were fastened alongside her body and the legs slightly spread.

Who are these people?

She wanted to turn her head, to look at the people chatting all around her, but a blindfold prevented it. Soft, gentle hands grabbed pieces of sushi from all over her naked body. The dinner guests only seemed to notice her when the naked body shook from their ticklish touches and triggered light, reserved laughter from the eloquent gathering.

Claire was having a wonderful time. Every touch teased her, like an appetizer for the main course to come. Even the conversation was intelligent and witty and had it not been for the bit gag between the teeth, she might have joined in.

After a while, the hostess asked the guests to move into the living room. A waiter wiped off Claire’s body like it was a piece of furniture, which she enjoyed, and released her from the table. The gag and blindfold were removed, and the woman that had greeted her at the door handcuffed her behind the back and escorted her to the next ordeal.

A string quartet played a beautiful rendition of a Beethoven piece in the far corner, and even though Claire was told to look at the marble floor, she could not help but steal glances at the people in the room. Almost all the guests wore some form of mask to cover the upper part of their face, and all were dressed in expensive suits and designer dresses. A few of the women and one of the men were kept on a leash by their partner, but even the collars were made from gold.

Her heart pounded at the beauty of the situation. The walk towards the hanging chains felt intense, suspenseful. She felt like part of an art installation and straightened her back, tried to add elegance to her steps. The beating drum in her chest quickened when she saw what had been laid out on a table near the middle of the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed the dinner.” The woman’s voice rang with the confident timbre of a seasoned hostess. “Enjoy the music and the conversation. Should you wish for further entertainment, feel free to sample my master’s collection on this young girl.” She gestured at the dozens of whips, paddles, and floggers on the table. “Have a lovely evening.”

Claire trembled at the sight of the instruments in front of her. She had been whipped before, but some of these looked ferocious. Fear and excitement formed an explosive cocktail in her body, and she could feel the intensity rise as the woman fastened the restraints; first, the ankles, leaving Claire’s legs spread wide, then the wrists, and finally the collar.

There’s no turning back now, Claire thought. Her back was turned towards the guests – and the whips. All she could do was stare at the beautiful art on the wall to the dining room she just came from.

She let out a small cough as the woman shortened the chain attached to the collar, leaving it in a position where Claire was constantly choking a bit. Just the way she liked it.

“I’ll make sure they don’t get too rough,” the gentle voice whispered. The warm breath in her ear made Claire’s stretched body shake with lust. “But then again… my pain tolerance is very high…”

A large, leather blindfold was once again put over Claire’s eyes, completely blocking out even the tiniest ray of light.

More than six hours… what the hell am I doing? she thought as a large silicone ball was forced into her mouth and tightened, with extra straps under her chin and over her head to keep her from pushing it out with her tongue.

Maybe they won’t be too… She did not get to finish the thought before a sharp pain shook her body from the hard whiplash to her back.

She screamed into the gag. Screamed at the darkness every time the whip crackled. Just as she started getting a feel for the timing, another whip started hitting her breasts. But this was not pain as she had felt it before – it was vivid, visceral, powerful. It was as if every hit, every lash, sent signals to the pleasure center in her brain as well as the pain receptors.

It went on for hours until time lost all meaning. There were pauses in the whippings, periods of gentle strokes, and teasing caress of her nipples and skin, but the pain always returned. As the evening progressed, her back, breasts, and butt had become raw, sore from the continued abuse, and the discomfort became more intense, less pleasurable. When someone, a giggling woman from the sound of it, started flogging Claire’s vagina, it became too much. Her screams became higher pitched, desperate, and tears started flowing down her cheeks. She pulled at her chains, but no one released her.

Did she want them to? She did not know. She knew nothing at this point.

By the time the hostess bid the last guest goodbye, hours later, Claire was a sobbing mess. The light blinded her when the blindfold was removed, and a long, unflattering string of drool hung from the gag when it was pulled out and added to the wet stain on the floor.

She fell to her knees when the shackles were finally opened and hugged herself while silent tears kept streaming down her face.

The woman kneeled and let the slender arms envelop Claire. It was a genuine, caring embrace. “You were wonderful, remarkable.” She smiled at Claire. “My record is less than half of what you managed tonight.”

Claire’s body was a chaotic maelstrom of feelings and emotions. She struggled to get a grasp of reality.

“I know it feels intense right now, but I’d love for you to come back.”

Claire nodded. She had no idea what else to do. But she had a feeling she would want to experience it all again.

Rating

No votes yet

Comments