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BONNIE - BONDAGE PILGRIM Book One - A MASTER'S SLAVE by Jennifer Jane Pope writing as Harmony Laine |
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BONNIE - BONDAGE PILGRIM Book One - A MASTER'S SLAVE by Jennifer Jane Pope writing as Harmony Laine |
This is the first book in what is planned to become an entire series, but work on other books has delayed the writing of the various sequels for the time being.
Bonnie accepts a job that will ensure she is financially secure for life, not to say quite wealthy, but there are conditions and stipulations laid down by her new employer. Fantastically rich himself, he also possesses a uniquely inventive mind, devising costumes, retraints and ritualsthat, at first, seem almost too much to Bonnie.
However, to her surprise, she finds herself being steadily drawn into the web, even to the extent of placing herself in the most stringent bondage, as per her master's instructions ...
When she entered the robing room, everything was ready, but then that was no more than Bonnie had come to expect where Michael Harding was concerned. Ruthless, meticulous efficiency and planning were his watchwords and, as ever, he had left not a single detail to chance.
Bonnie stared down at the sheaf of typewritten instructions. She had already read through them three or four times, but the VDU prompter was ready for her, the first two paragraphs displayed in bold white type against a deep blue background. She tossed the paperwork onto the long workbench and slipped out of the white satin robe. Underneath it, she was completely naked, but she was not destined to remain that way for long.
She hung the robe on one of the empty hooks - everything had to be kept absolutely in order - and walked across to the waiting racks. As ever, a corset was the first priority and today the ensemble was to be mainly red rubber. She took the garment down and examined it, marvelling even after all this time at the precision and ingenuity of its design and manufacture.
The thick rubber was basically bright red, but there was piping and trimmings at top and bottom in black, a striking contrast, Bonnie thought and one which Michael was particularly fond of. Even the eight red suspender straps were edged in black, but it was not so much the colour scheme that made the corset so remarkable, but the engineering side of its construction.
It was made, ostensibly, in two separate halves, but the back lacing held the two sections loosely together when the front busk fittings were open. Carefully, Bonnie wrapped the garment around herself, settled it so that the two half cups were in the correct position and began snapping the front fastenings together, feeling the stiff rubber constricting her waist even before it was laced to its limit.
As each steel prong clicked into its opposite housing, Bonnie was only too well aware that it was a permanent linking, at least until either Michael, or the transvestite maid, Georgia, produced the special key device. When the two halves came together at the back, they too would be sealed similarly. The corset could be put on by the wearer alone, but not taken off without outside assistance and permission.
Georgia had dutifully threaded new laces earlier, complete with the attached end tabs that would hook onto the electric mechanism that Michael had designed for closing most of her corsets and now Bonnie stepped over to the special frame that made that task possible. It was simple enough - two stout steel poles running from floor to ceiling, about two feet from the wall, set about two feet apart and with a series of horizontal bars between them.
Bonnie turned with her back to the framework and stepped into the high heeled mules that were fixed to the base. With her feet forced into such an extreme position, her torso became slightly more elongated and her waist would be more susceptible to the sort of extreme reduction upon which Michael insisted. She reached behind herself, as she leaned back against the unyielding steel and attached the lace hooks to the waiting wires that disappeared into the wall itself.
There was a remote control button set into the right hand upright, conveniently placed for Bonnie to operate without being forced into contortions. She smiled at the thought, for it was typical of the man to include that sort of touch, whilst expecting her to ultimately lock herself into the most constricting and uncomfortable creations that a human mind could conceive.
She pressed the button and immediately heard the low hum as the electric motor came to life inside its hidden cavity. Immediately the slack was taken up, the laces began inexorably to tighten, slowly drawing the two halves of the corset together, whilst the lateral bars prevented the pressure from dragging her backwards. Bonnie breathed out and autopmatically adjusted her respiratory pattern to accommodate the steadily increasing pressure on her lungs.
This was going to be quite some ordeal, she knew, for although she had gradually been accustoming herself to more and more severe waist reduction, she had so far only experienced a corset with a waist of nineteen inches. According to the instruction sheets, this one was an inch less again.
The process was a slow one and it was a good five minutes before Bonnie heard the dull clicks of the steel fasteners locking together. She pressed the control button again and heard the motor whine to a standstill.
The scissors were hung on a hook, just above the control button and were also attached to the framework by means of a long, slender chain, just in case she were to drop them, for, without the means to sever the now obsolete laces, Bonnie would be trapped against the frame until someone came to her rescue. She reached behind her and snipped through the tough cords, then, stepping down out of the mules, she began the difficult task of removing them altogether.
Another five or six minutes passed before she managed to complete the operation, but Bonnie was in no hurry. A total of three and a half hours had been allocated for her to dress herself and, according to Michael's instructions, it should be possible for her to complete the process in as little as two. Slowly, breathing in short, shallow gasps, she made her way back to the garment rack.
She pressed the other remote control and the message on the VDU screen changed, reminding her that the stockings were the next item to be put on. She took them down and walked slowly across to the stool that had been provided to facilitate this operation. Made of rubber, red to match the base colour of the corset, they had already been powdered inside. More of Georgia's preparations, Bonnie guessed.
Even so, the stockings were a tight fit and required a lot of effort to get onto her feet and legs. They also needed care in handling, for the latex from which they had been cut was much thinner than the rubber of the corset. Another ten minutes passed, before Bonnie finally rose again, the red stockings clinging to her lower limbs like a new skin, reaching right to the very top of her thighs, where they were stretched into position by the four taut suspender straps at either side.
Bonnie did not need the autoprompt to tell her what came next. She took down the crotchstrap, with its two integral vibrators, together with the small leather pouch that held the tube of lubricant. The enema she had given herself before her bath had taken care of one half of the potential inconvenience that this devilish contraption might cause, but she walked through to the adjoining toilet cubicle and emptied her bladder before continuing.
The two lubricated phalluses slid easily into place, the rear orifice offering just a little more resistance than the front and once again, the two ends of the elongated, triangular strap were fitted with the self locking prongs, which engaged in receivers set strategically into the lower hem of the corset. There were six clicks - four at the front and two behind - and the gusset was held immovably until the ultimate production of the key.
Not that the key alone would be of any use, once the rest of her designated outfit was in place, for Bonnie was well aware of exactly what was still to come. Walking gingerly, she went back to the rack and collected the gloves. They were also of rubber - as was the entire ensemble - slightly thicker than that from which the stockings were made, but still several gauges thinner than the corset.
They were not that difficult to get on, apart from a slight struggle with the fingers, for they had been designed to lace tightly once in place, a crisscrossing of thin black cord that ran up the outside of each arm, forming the intended contrast with the basic red. It was not an easy result to achieve, for this time there was no automatic lacing device and Bonnie had only one hand with which to draw in the slack.
However, it was a task she had practised several times now and perseverance brought its due reward, until, eventually, she was able to thread the ends of the laces through the retaining clips and snap them shut. With the scissors, she removed the dangling ends and the gloves were, like the rest of her outfit, locked in place.
She flexed her fingers and nodded approvingly at the amount of dexterity that still remained to her. Had the rubber been too thick, her hands would have been rendered totally useless for the rest of her self-dressing operation. She collected the long boots and made her way back to sit down, but this time it was to the wheeled seat, rather than the stool she had used for putting on the stockings, for, once in place, these particular boots would make normal walking impossible.
Bonnie had slowly been growing used to wearing higher and higher heels over the weeks, but her one encounter with heels such as these had been enough to convince her that no one, except a trained ballerina, would ever be able to master them. The boots, once on, forced the toes to point straight down, the foot being held erect by a tapering heels that was a good nine inches high.
Again, like the gloves, it was necessary to lace the boots, guiding the laces around a series of ski hooks and steadily closing the thick rubber together at the front. At least this time, she thought, she had two hands free to tackle the challenge. Even so, another ten minutes had elapsed before the laces were locked under their snap fastenings and the trailing ends cut off.
With the thigh length boots tightly in place, Bonnie now had almost no flexibility in her knee joints, but that, the instructions had informed her, was a `good' thing. The stiffness of the heavy rubber would lend extra support to her joints and muscles and lessen the terrible strain that the ballerina styled footwear imposed on them. Even so, Bonnie was glad to be able to.propel herself and the wheeled seat back towards the rack, using the long hand rail to draw herself along on the smooth tiled floor.
The red rubber sheath dress had been designed to be worn as a top garment in itself, but today, according to Michael's instructions, it was to be used as an underslip to the final creation. Bonnie stretched up and lifted it down, folded it neatly into her lap and hauled herself back along the rail. It might have been possible to get into the dress whilst seated in the chair, but it would be a lot easier to do so if she laid herself out on the low bed in the far corner.
Except that `easier' was only a relative term in this house, as Bonnie had quickly come to understand during her time here. She looked up, sniffed the air and was grateful that the cooling system was switched on. Without it, the layer of rubber which already encased most of her body would have made things intolerably hot for her.
Pulling herself onto the edge of the mattress, Bonnie slid the back zip open, rolled down the red rubber sheath and, with great difficulty, due to her inability to bend her knees properly, she managed to get the dress over her feet. Stretching her legs out straight in front of her, toes pointing like arrows, she slowly eased it up her lower limbs, until the remaining roll of fabric sat bunched about the tops of her thighs.
At this point, she knew, there was no alternative but to stand, relying on the edge of the bed, against which she could lean some of her weight in order to maintain a precarious balance. The strain on her leg muscles was intense, though not quite as bad as when she had tried to stand in the first pair of ballerina boots to which she had been introduced. Michael's promise concerning the extra support seemed to be holding good.
Wobbling unsteadily, Bonnie wormed the rubber up her torso, fitting her breasts carefully into the preformed cups and arranging them so that her nipples protruded through the two inch diameter cutouts provided for that purpose. Thankfully, although it had a high, mandarin style neckline, the dress hand short sleeves, or it might have been a struggle getting it on over the shoulder length gloves.
The back closing zipper was fitted with a steel wire extension tag, about a foot long, to facilitate easier operation when there was no outside help to close it. Bonnie turned and pitched herself face down onto the mattress, for she knew that, even with the tag, the struggle to fasten the dress might well throw her off her precarious balance. Huffing and puffing and very red in the face, she inched the zipper up.
Her sigh of relief when the collar finally closed together and she could remove the tag, was somehwta curtailed by the strictures of corset and dress and, having detached the extension piece, Bonnie rolled onto her back and allowed herself three or four minutes to recover from her exertions. Above the VDU, the digital clock, which had started automatically upon her first entering the room, showed that she was at least fifteen minutes ahead of the schedule showing on the screen.
Bonnie nodded to herself, but she knew she dared not waste too much time resting, for there was still plenty to do and the main dress was likely to prove quite a challenge. With an effort, she sat up again and hauled herself back across into the mobile chair.
She had never seen the dress before, nor even anything like it. Michael's instructions had been plain enough, but she still did not understand them. As she took the voluminous folds of rubber down into her lap, from the corner of her eye she spotted the unit he had described and wondered just what it's real purpose was. First, however, there was the matter of the other unit. She took down the bag which held it and placed it atop the dress, before making her steady way back to the bed.
The hobble dress allowed only steps of about four inches, so tightly did it mold itslef to her legs, but the lower end of the zipper was not yet closed. When it was, Bonnie knew, it would be locked as was the top tag now, locked until Michael or Georgia brought the key to release her.
She shivered at the thought of what might happen if any accidents befall the pair of them. At every stage, she was locking herself into deeper and even more constraining bondage - bondage from which there would be no escape unaided. The thought made her feel even hotter between her legs and the twin vibrators, though still dormant, suddenly felt larger than ever.
Positioning herself back on the edge of the bed, Bonnie drew the lower zipper even further up, until the crotch strap chastity belt was revealed. Set into the thick rubber, at a point mid way between the two phalluses, was a small socket and into this she now snapped the long cylindrical device which she took from its leather bag.
It was about nine inches long, two inches in diameter and owed most of its weight to the rechargeable nicad battery which lay inside. Only a small amount of the interior was occupied by the microchip operated control unit and, as she drew the zipper back down and locked it at the hem of the hobble dress, Bonnie wondered, with a wry grin, just what sort of a random programme Richard had decided upon today.
The main dress was quite a fantastic creation, Bonnie saw as she laid it out on the bed. Again it was red and black rubber, the voluminous outerskirt, which felt quite thick, covering what appeared to be four double-skinned underskirts. The bodice was cut tight, to fit snugly over her corsetted waist, though the breast cups allowed for plenty of room. Strangely, however, she saw that they had not been designed to leave her nipples on display.
The sleeves of this dress, however, unlike those of the hobble dress, were full length, though there were zippers down the final three quarters of their length to allow for easier fitting. The tops of the sleeves were loose, intended to be puffed, though a little on the floppy side. Finally, the collar was high - even higher than the mandarin collar of the first garment - and, once the back had been properly zipped shut, would force Bonnie to keep her head erect and make sideways movement of it extremely difficult.
She clicked on to the next page of VDU instructions, confirmed the steps to be followed in the correct sequence and then began struggling into the dress. It was a very slow and awkward business and it was fully twenty minutes before she was able to ease herself back into the chair.
Zipping the sleeves closed had not been a difficult process, but the back of the dress had been a different matter, for the heavy rubber had exerted a terrific counter pull against Bonnie's exertions with the zip extender and it had taken several more minutes before she had closed it to the required height.
Michael's instructions had been very specific. The top six inches of the dress was to remain open until after she had fitted the mask helmet. He had not, however, mentioned what type of mask it would be and Bonnie had refrained from looking at it ahead of time, conscious of the four strategically placed cameras that were recording her progress.
To depart from the given schedule, even in the slightest degree, would earn grave displeasure and the resulting punishment was certain to involve a serious degree of discomfort. She was already only too aware of the ingenious nature of Michael's dark creativity.
Getting back into the chair, surrounded by the massive skirts, was no easy achievement and the thick layers of rubber left little room for manouevre once seated. Bonnie was only glad that she would be able to fit the mask without getting out of the wheeled chair again and that the instructions promised that this would be the final time she had to use it. The wording was still exact in her head, though she had no idea what he meant.
The mask was designed to cover everything but her nostrils and eyes and Bonnie barely stifled a groan when she felt the stubby penis gag inside. Again, the rubber was mostly red, but with black edgings around the eye apertures and a mockery of a black mouth glued over where her own mouth should be. There was also a high black plume of artificial ostrich feathers, black and red, in keeping with the rest of the colour scheme.
Bonnie examined the rear zipper opening, confirming that this tag, along with every other zipper tag in her costume, could only be released, once closed, by the tiny key devices that were probably locked in Michael's desk for the present. Not that it mattered where they were, for she knew that only this upper floor and only then only the fitting room and the ballroom, were accessible to her, for Michael had stated that all the other doors would be too narrow to allow her to pass.
Looking down at the skirts, voluminous as they were, Bonnie could not see it, but she had never yet known Michael to be wrong about anything. There was always a first time, she thought, shaking her head.
The mask fitted as snugly as everything else, but then Bonnie had expected nothing less. The gag filled her mouth, but not uncomfortably so and there were soft rubber pads, together with harder rubber inserts, strategically placed to cover and plug her ears, rendering her not quite, but almost, deaf. She settled the thing into position, closed the back zipper and then, as per the instructions, closed the neck collar of the dress over it with a final, locking click.
She fumbled for the VDU remote and clicked onto the final page. Slowly, unable to turn her head more than a few degrees, she looked over to the steel clad unit that was described on screen. The hand rail ran right up to it and with a considerable amount of effort, Bonnie hauled herself across the short space between.
Open the panel at the top, she read. Extract the free end of the rubber hoze and insert the nozzle into the valve in the dress at the base of your spine. She had confirmed the presence of such a valve before putting the dress on, so she had little difficulty in locating it, even though it was behind her and the mask and collar severely hampered her movements.
Now stand up, holding the handrail and press the red control button on the front panel. The machine will stop automatically when it is finished. Do not attempt to remove the nozzle from the valve until it does.
Fair enough, Bonnie said to herself. She hauled herself onto her toes, half hanging over the rail for support and reached for the control. There was a loud click, loud enough to penetrate even the padding and ear plugs, but any other noise was effectively masked out and it was several seconds before she realised what was happening.
Of course, she thought, she should have realised. It was an air pump and the hose was bringing air into the very dress itself. Slowly, the huge skirt, the underskirts as well, began to inflate, spreading outwards as they did so and explaining exactly what Michael had meant when he had said about most of the doors being too narrow.
And not only were the skirts expanding. The shoulders of the dress were quickly filling out into two large puffs, forcing Bonnies arms slightly away from her body in the process and, as she stared down at what was happening, she saw that the breast cups, too, were growing, stretching out until they became two elongated, pointed parodies of what they should have been.
As the skirts continued to expand, Bonnie now found herself being forced away from the sanctuary of the handrail, but, instead of toppling over, she now found herself actually being supported by the inflated ring. By bending her knees, even the slight amount that was available to her, all her weight could be transferred onto the dress and, by the time the machine finally stopped, she had been raised to a position where her toes made only sufficient contact with the floor to ...
... propel herself along.
Like a baby in a walker, she told herself, as a green light came on beneath the red control button on the pump unit. She reached behind herself, detatched the nozzle with some difficulty, stowed it back in the top compartment and closed down the lid. As she looked up, the VDU was suddenly blinking fiercely, the new message - one that had not been included in the original printed instructions - changing from red to green, at a rate of one change per second.
PROCEED TO THE BALLROOM
it commanded her.
This is a deliberately long extract, because Bonnie is currently out of print and when it finally reappears, in whatever format, the second book will be ready too and I really want to whet all your appetites for them, as they may just appear together as one long novel.
If you've followed through the site this far, I'm sorry that you've found so many of the former Olympia titles not currently available, but this next twelve month period is going to be both busy and exciting for me, with new contracts to re-release or reprint and commissions for loads of brand new stuff, so do please remain patient.
All news will be posted to the site as I have it, to which end I have just included a link to a special "News" page on the left. Hopefully, that will make things easier for all of us!
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