Sahara’s Chair

Part 1: Sahara's Chair

I live an interesting life - taken care of but under control. You would think this is a classic master slave relationship, but its unusual in every way. Describing the whole scenario is somewhat I want to reveal to the reader, but moving linearly through time isn't something I'm ready to start with. I'd rather start by leading the reader through my latest scenario.

I glance at my phone going through the notes of what I'm about to go through. There are of course butterflies in your stomach, even if this scenario isn't any weirder or stranger than others I've experienced. Memorizing is important - missing a step means your escape plan could fall through, which is both uncomfortable and possibly humiliating - I'm a professional after all.

As I often find myself, I am fully chaste, but in an enforced way. First on is my custom corset (one of many) - under-bust in design in a rich black satin finish. The boning is designed to be extra stiff - a few gauges of steel higher than average designs, and the front busk is modified to allow a steel rod to slide down, blocking the gaps allowing the busk to separate. The rod features a miniature padlock on the bottom, preventing it from sliding out. Down the back of the corset are conventional laces, however covered with an extra fabric panel and a secondary padlock.

But I mentioned I am chaste, for I am wearing a form fitting chastity belt. Solid steel sits over the corset in a waist band, and a solid band runs between my legs, with the addition of an extra lump in the small of my back. This lump at times enforces my lifestyle, for I always wear at least one plug, with integral wiring inside the belt. Today, a weekend, I am wearing two. These plugs come in various sizes and shapes (that I have access to), but always contain two functions - vibrate and shock. Good dog, bad dog. I'll let the imagination run to where these plugs sit.

A chastity belt is great, but as many ladies know, your breasts can be quite the plaything. Many, I have an extra accommodation - my custom chastity bra. Anatomically correct and flattering, its a steel workmanship masterpiece. A continuous chest brand wraps my and keeps the cups in place, which in this case are form fit, complete with a steel nipple on the outside. Today, a set of optional steel wires acts as should straps. Optional, as no woman is without at least one strapless bra. I actually have several of these bras: some have extra internals (clamps, spikes, and electro-shock), some are plain as today's is.

Needless to say both of these items are secured via flat, specially keyed, integral locks. I do have access to these keys, but not at the moment - thats the slave part of my relationship. How I get to the keys will have to saved for later.

The first step of the directions included the removal of my current attire, something I've already done. My previous clothes are all neatly folded away or ready for the laundry. A quick glance at the clock shows its time to get busy - being tardy is frowned upon. The first task is my attire for this scenario; I walk into the closet and find the first labeled door. The closet is quite large (it would make most people envious), and filled with drawers and cabinets, all individually numbered. The first number leads to a drawer - garter straps and a silky set of black stockings. Next up, a knee length pencil skirt in grey, form fitting. The third cabinet has a short sleeved silk blouse - luxurious, supple, and downright stunning in green. The last cabinet on the clothing list contains a pair of heels, true leather soles and uppers, ankle strap, in a well cared for black finish, complete with six-inch heels.

I move back to the vanity in the dressing room and sit down, smoothing the stockings over my legs. I clip the garter straps, four per leg, between the corset and the stocking tops. I smooth everything over again, don my blouse, and step into the skirt. The stretchy fabric forms to my legs and ample rear. I realize that this skirt doesn't have a vent as I zip up the rear, sliding it into place on my corseted waist. A few steps around the dressing stool confirms my attire, watching myself in the mirror.

Shoes are always more difficult in corsets and skirts, but I've learned well over the years. I sit, crossing my foot onto my thigh and sliding the pump over my stocking feet. The shoes fit well; like my entire wardrobe, there isn't anything cheap and frumpy here. My finger slides over the slick leather soles and stiletto point heel, admiring my foot being held in an arch. High heels are common to me, I've reached the point that every high-heel lover eventually  gets to: where flat shoes or barefoot walking is uncomfortable. I take the open ankle strap and wrap it around my ankle. Instead of a conventional buckle or tacky velcro, the fitted strap has a small metal closure which simply pushes together. I snap it closed, and immediately give it a small tug to no avail - its closed tight and won't open without the right tool. I finger the strap and feel the small steel cable running inside the leather, generally unnoticed by the eye.

Suddenly, I squeal and jump from the vanity stool. I've been dawdling, and my enforcer  has just reminded me via a light stinging pulse through my plugs buried deep inside of me. I sit back down pressing the plugs slightly deeper, reminding me of their presence again. I don the other shoe, snapping its strap closed, and stand up readjusting the skirt. I quickly freshen up with some powder from the vanity, and step back again running my hands down my thighs - as always, a smashing look, without any extensive hint of my corset, chastity belt and bra, nor my locking heels.

I leave my phone on the vanity, having memorized my tasks, and walk to the door, opening it, after a barely audible buzz and click from somewhere inside. Walking through the sunlit hallway, quickly taking in the view of the surrounding hills through the windows, I make my way down the stairs and to another, closed door, fully cognizant of the incredible feeling of the high heels and tight skirt on the steps, as the plugs shift inside me from the movement. As I approach, the door makes a similar sound, and I walk through, closing it behind me.

The room is similar to the closet I described earlier, though larger and with a dark wood finish. There are two rows of what would appear to be lockers, with numbers and handles, along with larger cabinets which border the edges of the room. At the end of the room are three doors, leading to other adventures. I open the first numbered locker on the list - the number and location seems unfamiliar to me. There are likely lockers I have never opened here, and there are always surprises to be had. This locker contains some heavy metal - a set of connected ankle cuffs, at a jumbo scale. The heavy steel probably weighs over eight pounds, is an inch thick and several inches tall, joined by several links of a very large chain. As instructed, I bend down - in a very lady like fashion thanks to my corset - and wrap the first cuff over my left ankle. The fit is snug, as the cold steel envelops me. There is a brass cylinder which slides into the overlapping join of the cuff - I slide it flush, and twist the attached key which lifts, leaving the brass cylinder joining the cuff to my leg. Repeating the steps on my right ankle, I stand tentatively. The heavy chain clanks a little, and I test steps. My stride has been curtailed to ten-inches, but this isn't particularly strenuous in the scheme of things.

The look of heavy steel encircling my ankles starts me on the fast path to pleasure. I let out a little moan as a shift my hips, only to be greeted by a tiny zap from inside of me, turning my moan into a squeak. Somehow, these reminders always come at the right, or wrong, moment. Frustrated, I shimmy over toward the door I entered to a set of special lockers along the wall. As instructed, I drop my keys through a slot on one of these, hearing them clank to the metal floor inside, out of reach and sight, enjoying the feeling of extra lubrication on my plugs and the weight on my ankles. This would be no way to run a marathon.

The next locker contains a ring gang trainer - a comfortable model, wrapped in cushy rubber, but giving a large mouth opening. I move over to a mirror, of which there are several in the room, and place it into my mouth, behind my teeth, engaging the buckles on the first strap behind my head, the strap over my head, and under my chin. The buckles have a small slot for a padlock, of which four are conveniently provided to make removal difficult. Conveniently, there is only one oblong hole for each buckle; this gag is custom designed to fit just right. These keys end up in another slot by the door. I take another look at myself, mouth gaping, a slight bit of drool forming already, as my green eyes glow with excitement. I drop the gag key into the key slot locker adjacent to the cuff one, clanking into the abyss inside.

The instructions have me grab a few more items, but this time I do not add to my ensemble. A pair of handcuffs, an extra padlock, an inescapable blindfold, I take these items, and their keys, with me, and proceed out the left door down a window-less hallway.  The metal around my ankles fits snugly, but always reminds you of its presence as the very heavy chain drags on the carpeted floor. Extra balance is needed in the heels, as the extra restraints tie up my hands. The hallways has several doors - I take the one at the end.

The room is large, about thirty feet square -  this is one of the larger rooms in the house. It's barren except for a chair in the center, and cord dangling form the ceiling, and several protrusions from the walls. I close the door behind me - I tentatively try turning the handle, but it doesn't budge. Inside, I know that every step I take commits me further, and the only way to exit is to complete my tasks. I quickly walk around the edges of the room, where a large dildo protrudes from the wall on all four sides, on steel rods, sticking horizontally out of the wall at about stomach level. I inspect one of the four, fingering small holes in the center and on the sides. I kneel down and check that the dildo will enter my gag, pushing it deep into my mouth feeling for one of the holes on the side with my tongue. Tentatively I suck the synthetic penis, drawing air until my tongue hits the appropriate spot and closes the pathway. A tiny drip of liquid drips into my throat - to fully engage the dildo requires a strong control of your gag reflex as this is serious deep throating. I pull off the dildo - this isn't part of the task just yet - and stand, trying to flex my mouth but defeated by the strong ring lodged in it. My fingers dart to the straps, giving them a slight adjustment.

My attention turns back to the chair at the center of the room. Its at first glance a standard wheeled office chair, ready to move, but not easily glide, around the low pile carpet in this room. After looking further, one notices the extra machinery held under the chair, and the distinctive metal piston protruding from under the seat, with the other end laying on the ground. There are several straps open as well, like seat belts, though not just for emergencies. Next to the chair is a cord attached to a small winch on the ceiling - at the end of the cord is a detachable snap, holding several keys, presumably to the straps on the chair. I walk over to the cord, and begin placing the keys I brought with me to the same snap, just as the instructions dictated. The cord stays steady - the keys slightly swinging at about knee level. I presume that this will automatically retract later, even though the instructions were not clear.

My attention turns back to the chair, where I am destined to sit for this scenario. I smooth my skirt down as I sit, adjusting my blouse and running my hands over my body for a quick second. I pile the blindfold, handcuffs and lock into my lap, as I begin. The first step is to bend down and reach the piston on the floor - a challenge in the corset as usual, but not insurmountable. Bending over, as the plugs inside of me stretch and strain from the unusual movement, I grab the padlock from my lap and fish the hasp through end of the piston, conveniently ending in a ring, to the first link off of my left ankle cuff. Awkwardly bending further down, I fish the hasp through the first link coming from my right cuff, and snap it closed in a quick motion. As I sit back up, I test my motion, driving my rear plug deeply inside of me. As I move my legs, the piston glides effortlessly, allowing my joined feet to reach the floor and extend straight out, with a decent amount of play side to side. I put my feet on the floor and give a quick push; the chair scoots about an inch. I look toward the edges of the room - this will take awhile. Giving a quick sigh, I continue with my preparations. I reach for the first strap, which circles over my lower thighs. Straightening my skirt, I take out the unlocked padlock from the buckle end, and thread the strap through the buckle, pulling it tight. I place the padlock back through the buckle and click it closed.

I repeat this process with the other straps, fixing myself to the chair: one on the upper thigh, one over my lap, one across my corseted stomach, and a final one under my breasts. Testing my motion, I realize reaching for the dildos at the end of the rods is going to be a maneuvering challenge. A few deep (for a corset) breaths later, I recollect myself and press on. Next up is going to be the biggest hurdle - my blindfold. I position the handcuffs in my lap, with the key hole in a predictable location. I fish the leather blindfold under the strap to my gag, slowly as the gag strap is well fitted. Pinned to the bridge of my nose, the blindfold eye cups dangle away from my face as I locate the last small padlock, brought with me from the other room. I take a deep breath and proceed to wrap the straps around my head. Like the gag, the blindfold only has a single hole for the hasp to engage to. I find it, and slide the locking hasp through it. Before taking the lock, I gingerly adjust the eye cups. Everything is pitch black - no light enters, even from the edges. Snap, the blindfold padlock is now closed. I sigh as I realized I forget to take in the orientation of the chair before removing my vision.

The last step is the handcuffs - at this point, I'm blind and locked to this chair, so what is an extra restraint going to matter? I gingerly feel for the cuffs, taking an opportunity to rub my thighs and the unyielding straps once again. I pause, and reach for my steel encased breasts, rubbing the steel nipple through my silk blouse for a quick second. My breasts and loins have started throbbing in anticipation. I try to adjust my bottom in the chair, only to be held firm by the straps, the rear plug getting an extra small push deep into me. I reach behind me, as instructed, and close the cuffs. Click. The finality of this sends a shiver through me. I hear a whirring sound - this must be the winch retracting my freedom well out of reach. How its triggered is a mystery to me.

Feeling a small drip of drool on my chin from the gag, I decide to get moving. I take a deep breath, and start pumping my knees - high heels on the carpet, and push. My soles slide - slick leather isn't a great match here, but I quickly figure out the detail. Two pumps, three pumps. I'm likely making less than an inch of progress to somewhere. My freedom depends on me locating all four dildos, and giving them a good five minutes of deep throat each. This will take awhile.

On the fifth pump of my joined legs, with the heavy chain links rattling, both plugs inside of me come to life, at a very low vibrate. Yes! Finally, some relief. In the excitement, I keep on pumping, the vibrations slowly growing inside of me. Twenty scoots and pumps later, as the vibrations intensified, they suddenly stopped. A split second later, I feel my legs being lifted out and vertical by the piston under my chair. OWWW. A zap hits my plugs, made more painful by the wetness. Suddenly, I hear a whirr, and a distinctive feeling of rotating. Yes, I'm spinning, in my chair, in the dark, when all I wanted to do is get some mechanical love. The spinning stops after about 20 seconds, and the piston loosens up, letting me drop my legs. Fuck. A squeal as another zap hits me, less powerful than the last one. Fuck. Am I even pointed the same way?

These zaps, and the pleasure vibrations, are my control. Rewarded for good behavior, punished for bad, without any of the rules laid out ahead of time. I have learned what my invisible master wants from me through trial and error. This time, I can only surmise, is that I was gaining pleasure too fast. A hard balance of frustration and pleasure needs to be kept, one which is easy to drop, as I had just done. As I catch my breath for a second, a second jolt jumps me. Time to get going.

I gain a stride of moving my legs and scooting my chair by pushing my heels into the carpet - not too slow, not too fast. Twice more I misjudge, only to suffer a shock and spin. Each time I set out again, slowly moving my feet. The extra weight from the cuffs is giving my calves and thighs a workout - probably all part of the plan. Finally, I feel my hands reach a wall, and with a few more scoots, find a corner. I set out to start scooting along the wall. All this time, both plugs inside of me keep on vibrating at a frustratingly slow speed.

I reach my cuffed hands to the side as much as the straps and my flexibility allow, keeping my fingers reaching out for the wall. I maneuver in and out from the wall, adjusting my direction in a very deliberate fashion. A little too far from the wall and I lose contact, a slight turn and I almost risk jamming my fingers into the wall. The straps holding me to the chair feel very unyielding at this point, but I savor the very minute sliding my stockings allow against my skirt - smooth as silk. All of this compounds with the slow and slightly intermittent pulsating in my loins.

Suddenly, I feel something touch the back of my neck - the cold steel rod on which one of the four diodes is mounted to. It gives a little - arguably designed this way in order to allow me to find it. I start to maneuver myself - I can't simply back up into the nefarious device, nor can I feel it with my hands being at head-height. I turn to place my hands to the wall, and then slowly spin until my high-heeled shoes reach the wall. Centering myself, I slowly push away, leaning my head so I can feel the steel rod. When I notice the rubber of the dildo, I turn, maneuver sideways, turn forward again (judging angles while fully blindfolded is hard), and scoot forward. Success - the dildo struck my cheek. A few more maneuvers, and I have the artificial cock ready to enter my gag.

My assignment is simple - I must give five minutes of deep throat, judged by sucking on the dildo with my tongue over the rear hole. I must take no longer than a 15 second consecutive break, or the time will reset. Once complete, I must back away from the dildo until indicated (how it did not specify), and then find the other dildos and repeat these steps.

All the maneuvering has left me somewhat short of breath in the tight corset. I can feel the drool on my chin, probably dripping onto my tight skirt. However, simply sitting here isn't an option - I know the shocks will come any moment. I lean my head forward onto the cock, sliding it into the ring gag, and give myself one final forward pull with my feet, jamming the artificial penis home into my throat. I swallow under the shock, but get right to it, finding the small hole on the bottom of the device with my tongue, and starting to suckle it.

Almost immediately, both vibrators come to life at what I imagine was full speed. Shit. The sudden surge causes me to stop sucking, and the vibrators suddenly stop as soon as they started, and then a split second later I get hit with a medium level shock. Fuck, owww, I try to pull my head back in a reflex reaction but it doesn't fully leave my gag, awkwardly keeping me pinned. I try to push back with my legs, only to find out that the piston is preventing me from raising my legs - the opposite of before when it would prevent any contact with the floor.

I breath heavily a few times through my nose when I notice a beeping sound. Beep. Beep. That must be the fifteen second timer.  I don't dare to find out what happens when that timer expires. In a surge of adrenaline and commitment, I thrust my head forward, fully engaging the cock, wrap my tongue over the hole, and resume sucking. The vibrators surge back to life - in my vagina and rear. I suck. I try to wiggle, my stockings very slightly sliding over the inside of my skirt, rubbing them against one another as my legs shift. The extra feeling is exhilarating. A small amount of liquid suddenly surges from the tip of the cock into my throat, and I struggle to swallow it whilst breathing. I can feel the extreme tightness of my corset in moments like this - each breath shallow, rapid, unyielding against the steel.

Suddenly, the wave of an orgasm runs over me, and for a few moments I forget to suck as I concentrate on breathing. I squirm, my pinned legs sliding against each other in a moment of bliss, the rear and front plugs continuing their assault, driving in new directions as I shift. POW. The shock hits, the beeping begins, and the vibrations stop. Fuck - can't a woman enjoy just a few minutes of ecstasy alone? I ram the cock deeper into the gag, and suck, as the vibrations suddenly surge again. More squirts drip down my throat. I can feel the moisture down there build even further, as my tongue aches and breathing becomes even more strained. I wonder how much longer there is. Suddenly, the vibrations stop. Damn. A long beep sounds, as a surge of liquid nearly chokes me. I swallow frantically - its somewhat salty. I wonder what it really is. Swallowing still, I try to move my legs, and find them able to move as the piston allows. I push off the dildo, letting myself breath through my mouth once again. I pump myself forward, one pump, five pumps, ten pumps. The vibrations in my loins are now at the infuriatingly low level. Suddenly, my legs raise as the piston pushes them off the floor, and I feel the spin.

How the fuck will I be able to make sure I visit each dildo? As the slow spinning stops, I resign myself, and move in what I think is a straight line. The low vibrations humming along inside of me. My legs and stockings slightly sliding amongst themselves, the feel of the skirt. The tight corset restricting me. The straps restraining me fully. The heavy ankle cuffs dragging me down. The piston controlling my vibrations. I mess up, and pick up too heavy of a pace. A shock, a spin. I set out again.

I reach another dildo after what seems like ten minutes. I can feel the heavy steel cuffs and chain toning my muscles, my shoulders somewhat sore from being pulled back into the handcuffs and trying to feel around behind me. The rear plug driving into me as I shift in my seat, minor vibrations putting me in extreme frustration. I suck this cock too, only being shocked once as halfway through I simply am breathing too heavily from what must be my third orgasm. The corset unyielding as I pant through my nose adds to the exhilaration, and a feeling of light headedness.

I reach what I feel is the third dildo a little while later, only to find it moist against my cheek. Damnit. I have revisited one of the prior two dildos - the blindfold doing its nefarious purpose well. Frustrated, I move around the room again, keeping to the walls. I feel the sliding of my stockings intensify as I grow more and more on edge from the very low vibrations and sensations in my plugs.

I reach an unused dildo minutes (and many foot pumps) later, and climax instantly upon the up kick of the plugs. I try to pull back from the dildo in my mouth, and squirm to breath. I get hit by the shock, and  hear the beeping. This time, the shock puts me close to another orgasm (what lady doesn't like a little pain mixed in with her fucking?). Finally, the beeping stops as I sit, breathing, with the cock halfway out of my mouth, when it hits. The full pain. My muscles grow weak. The shock is debilitating. This is a true punishment hit. And, from what I know, by far not the most powerful shock I can receive - I've had longer and harder. I sit, muscles like jelly, breathing labored through my nose, cock rammed halfway into my gag and mouth. The beeping begins. I draw on my will, and engage.

I suck like I never sucked before, and get hit with a huge series of squirts of the salty liquid into my throat, reeling from another orgasm that hit me just moments before, panting through my nose with incredible intensity. As I regain movement of my feet, I push back, get spun around, and set out to find the fourth dildo in the room. My this point, my legs are almost at a state of cramping, the corset is starting to really dig into one spot - something I could correct with just a little shift of my body, but alas the straps are holding firm and doing their job. My rear and sex are in a hypersensitive state - on the verge of another orgasm from the light vibrations. My jaw is sore from being held open at this point, drool is all over my chin and must be dripped on my skirt in a puddle. I'd kill to be able to close my mouth and swallow normally just once, or just have some plain water.

I luck out - I find the last dildo, dry, and go through the required motions. Deep throating the dildo, I suck at it with my tongue fixed to the small hole as the vibrations rip through me. I close my eyes behind the blindfold and commit to it, intense as I feel small drips of liquid fall down my throat - an incredible simulation. Moving my mouth over the dildo and sucking with all my might, it suddenly explodes as I'm reeling from another orgasm. I push back. At this point, as my head comes back to me, breathing labored and unyielding from the corset, I can hear the whirr of the winch. The keys. Now at the center of the room. Fuck.

I begin to move my legs, and get hit with a full on, full power vibration storm. My reward. I instantly climax again, in my hypersensitive state. I keep on moving, hoping to find the chain holding the keys soon as I might not be able to take many more orgasms.

What must be ten minutes later of scooting around the room, running into walls and backing around, I feel the cable holding the keys on my head. I reach around with my hands and soon enough fish the keys into my cuffed hands. Luckily, the vibrations have stopped by this point - if they had not, the continuing gyrations would make concentration here impossible. The handcuff keys have a distinctive shape - I feel for it, locate the key, feel for the keyhole, insert, and twist. The cuffs springs open, and I immediately stretch my arms forward, enjoying the range of motion in my extremely sore arms. I fish for more keys - most of these are alike - and begin trying them on the small padlock holding my blindfold securely in place. My hair is sweaty and soaked - this has been quite a workout. After trying what seems like every key twice, the lock suddenly springs open. I pull on the buckle, and peel the blindfold off of my face, blinking in the brightness of the overhead lights.

My jaw aches, but the key to that isn't on this ring. I begin removing the straps confining me to this chair, starting with the ones above and below my breasts. Aroused, I feel my metal bra, anatomic nipple and all, as my breasts yearn for attention underneath. I remove the straps around my thighs, and then begin to contort myself, with the corset resisting every motion, to undo the lock holding my ankle cuffs to the piston. What a clever device. I pop open the last lock, and stretch my feet apart, wiggling my toes as much as the high heels allow. I gather the cuffs, locks, and straps and tentatively stand up, flexing my shoulders, now free of their confinement. I smoothed my skirt down, and begin walking to the door. I take a look back - next time, this room will contain some other devilish surprise.

I walk back to the room full of lockers, and put the straps and handcuffs back where I found them, closing the locker doors when I am done. The heavy steel ankle cuffs and chain are still restricting my stride (and comfort!), and my jaw positively aches by this point. I move, chain clanking and plugs shifting, to the slots where I dropped the keys. I try the first door - it doesn't open. The second one opens easily, revealing the key for the ring gag. Yes. I grab the key, and twist it, extracting the ring from my mouth, flexing my jaw, and regaining my composure as a proper lady, not a drooling slut.

Continued in Part 2: Evening Routine

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