Liza's New Life Ch. 05

"How are you getting along with Peter and Gina, dear?" she asked in a caring, motherly fashion. Her voice triggered the memory of a similar voice, though, that of my landlord, Ms Thomas, who sat in front of me in exactly the same manner, spoke to me in exactly the same sweet voice, then proceeded to spank me. I hoped the outcome would be different here.

"Umm..." I muttered and shrugged my shoulders, having no idea at all how to respond."

"This is all quite new to you, isn't it dear?"

I just nodded my head and lowered my eyes to the floor, childlike, avoiding her gaze.

"Bruce, unfasten her belt in back, please."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

You'd think nothing would shock me anymore, but I couldn't help but feel that old, recurring knot in my stomach when I realized I was going to be undressed. I was glad I couldn't see Bruce, and hoped that I could put him out of my mind as well as sight, but it was to no avail. The more I remembered his young face, the more embarrassed I became. My cheeks turned bright red, my breathing quickened.

The belt was designed so that when the lock in the back of the belt is released, the front may also be undone, and removed entirely if desired. Of course, with the belt's removal, the attached scarves were removed along with it, so I found myself suddenly standing bottomless in front of Dort's upturned face. She peered into my vagina, never releasing her grip on my hips. She obviously didn't see what she was looking for, so she turned to Bruce behind me to say, "Show me her clitoris, please."

I was dumbstruck by that. For a moment, I thought maybe he had it, and I wondered how he got it. Before I could think through my own stupidity, I saw the top of Bruce's red head crouched in front of me, but to the side, so as not to come between me and Dort. I next felt his fingers groping at the top of my vagina, digging for my button. My body tried to recoil at the hips, but Dort held me and shook me slightly to remind me to stand still. 'Oh, god,' I thought to myself, 'will the list of people not bound by Marc's "no touching" rule ever stop growing?'

"It's hard to hold onto," Bruce complained as I felt his thumb and forefinger encircle it.

"Open her up, there, so I can see."

I felt Bruce's other fingers spread my lips and I felt Dort's breath on me.

"Hmm, yes. A novice for sure," she muttered to herself, then with force brought out, "Lift her top!"

Bruce was quick to obey, so there I was, standing bottomless in front of this woman I met only minutes ago, with a young boy holding my top up to bare my breasts. As short as they were considered to be in this bizarre island culture, my nipples stood straight and ached from engorgement.

"Your nipples are not novice, though, dear. You've had some stretching there."

I didn't know whether I was to respond or not. She seemed to be talking to herself more than to me.

"What weight level are you, dear?" She looked directly into my face.

"These are natural," I stammered, then added, "Gina used her weights on me for the first time, today. I passed out from the pain."

"Go get Peter and Gina, right now," she barked at Bruce. "And my husband, too. I want the entire cabal here."

Bruce ran off, letting my top settle back over my nipples. The material bounced against them. I stood petrified, wondering what was going to happen next. That Dort would release my hips, pick up the belt that Bruce had left beside her on the bench and begin to smell it, never would have been among my guesses. She began slowly, sniffing deeply and carefully the leather strap that had been pressing against my pussy and anus for several hours. She seemed to know what she was doing. She was like a dog, looking for a certain scent.

"When was your last period, Liza?"

"A week ago," I answered mechanically, as if responding to my physician during a physical. I then rolled my eyes and shook my head trying to get a grip on where I was and what was happening.

"Hmm, yes..."

She spent a lot of time sniffing and resniffing the part of the leather that had hugged my anus.

"How often do you have anal sex," she asked pointedly.

Now I really didn't know what to do, how to answer. I decided to just say it plainly, in as few words as possible.

"I like to have things up there, but I've never made love in that fashion."

"Hmmm, what kinds of things?"

"I've tried a few kitchen utensil handles is all," I suddenly tried to minimize and trivialize the whole affaire, suddenly afraid that that may not be acceptable behavior in this "culture."

"Dort," Bruce burst into the room, "I found John and he is looking for Peter and Gina. He'll bring them."

"Bruce, sweetheart," she said, "Bring a 'Loren' in a size, oh, eight, I suppose. And some lubricant," she added as he went quickly to a chest of drawers against the wall.

He was back in a jiffy, but I couldn't see what he had, because he stood behind me.

"Well, dress her, dear," she said as if she suddenly found it tiresome to give orders. "Now, stand with your legs further apart," she said to me, "and relax."

The next thing I felt made me jump. It was the touch to my anus, of course, and also the coolness of the lubricant. My eyes bugged out as my rosebud pressed against the ministrations of young Bruce. His finger and the cool slime touched every part of my opening, then slid inside. I felt the first knuckle, then the second, pass my sphincter. The tip of his finger made circles inside me. I closed my eyes and tried to visualize the movement. I wanted desperately to finger my tiny, aching clit and my shackled wrists pulled against their bonds.

"Stand still, dear," I heard Dort admonish me.

Bruce removed his finger, but it was quickly followed by a hardness I recognized at once as a dildo. The narrow head slipped into me with ease, then I felt my rosebud open wider and wider to accept the ever widening tool. I wanted it desperately, yet I found myself standing on tiptoe, as if to avoid penetration.

"Settle down, Liza," Dort whispered softly.

I let my weight descend on the length of the shaft as my heels touched ground. A final push from behind by Bruce, which nearly sent me tumbling into Dort, embedded the welcome rubber as far as it would go. My anus closed around a narrowing at the base, then Bruce quickly reattached the belt I came with. I heard the snap of the lock in back and again felt the pressure of the leather against my clit as it invaded my pussy. Dort tested the taughtness of the leather against the dildo.

"How does that feel? Are you comfortable, dear?" she asked in that sweet voice.

I couldn't find my voice. My eyelids were fluttering, every muscle in my body was in spasm. My knees gave out and I collapsed in front of Dort, who held my head, as I felt wave after wave or orgasm rock my body.

Dort sensed the arrival of the last wave, then gently lowered my head to rest in her lap. There I was, on my knees, hands manacled behind me, the scent of my sex hanging in the air, and my head in the lap of my hostess, when Peter, John and Gina entered the room. Dort stroked my hair lovingly as the three formed a semicircle in front of her, behind me.

"Gina, darling, come here, closer." I felt Dort's sweet voice resonate from her lower abdomen through the top of my head.

Gina stepped up beside me. My head was turned so I could see her from the waist down.

"John, undress the child."

I heard a shuffle of feet and saw Peter's shoes next to Gina's bare feet.

"No, Peter, I know you are Gina's helper, but I want John to do this part."

I heard more movement, then saw Gina's beautiful dress fall to her feet. The familiar sound of the lock of a belt warned me that the belt would be extracted next, and it was. She stood still and straight, no one said a word or breathed a sound; they must have been waiting for what happened next. With a "pop," her enlarged clitoris sprang from between her labia. Having caught a quick glimpse of Susan earlier, I should have been prepared for this, but I wasn't. I heard myself gasp, loudly. Her clit was about an inch and a half long, as wide as my thumb, and it stood erect, extending from her vagina like a small penis.

"Gina," Dort began softly, "did you understand that you were hurting Liza during maintenance, today."

"But it was okay, she needed it! Peter said I had to take care of her."

"Did she ask you to stop?"

"Well, yes, but...."

"What did you think when she passed out, Gina?"

"I don't know." Gina's weight shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Gina, I'm going to have Peter administer ten strokes. Do you understand why?"

"No, ma'am," I heard Gina's voice crack.

"Because, as your helper, you are responsible for him. Your hurting Liza was his mistake, and there are consequences for that. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am... It was his fault, all his fault."

I heard more movement, then Peter appeared on the other side of Gina, facing me, with a small switch in his hand. In the next instant I saw the switch descend her torso to strike the outstretched clitoris. Her body bent forward at the hips and she cried out. Her feet remained in position, though, with her legs still straight. Despite the awkwardness of having her hands clasped behind her, she hadn't lost her balance. Except for Gina's heavy breathing, not a sound was heard. After about ten seconds, I watched her body rise, and as it did, her clit stood as straight as ever. Immediately the switch descended again the length of her body to hit the small penis-like appendage. Gina was ready for it this time, and her hips remained locked. She did not bend at the waist, but her cry was loud. I blinked and I stared, but I could no longer see her clitoris. It had been driven back down between her labia, where it normally resides under the pressure of the belt. No one moved. No one said a word. Expectancy hung in the air.

With a "pop" like the first, it was suddenly back outside, standing, pointing. I didn't even see the switch strike this time, I just heard the snap of wood against flesh and the wail of my former tormentor. Gina's body didn't move an inch, though. The angle of the blow must have been different, because her clit wasn't driven within her this time. It sprang back immediately into place and just as quickly the next blow struck.

This one had an effect like none before: Gina fell to her knees. Her upper torso came into my view for the first time. I saw her puffed, reddened cheeks, dripping with tears. Her beautifully cared for hair was matted to her scalp with sweat. As Dort softly stroked my hair and face, keeping my head immobile in her lap, I watched Gina struggle once more to her feet, resume her position, and wait for the next blow.

When it came, Gina cried out louder than ever, but did not fall. The clitoris did, however. The starch had run out of it; it lay like a worm against the top of her pussy. Gina sobbed. Her body trembled.

The next blow was across the top of her vagina and a welt rose immediately on each side of the bruised and torn clitoris. Gina caught herself from falling backward from the blow by stepping back with one foot. She moved it quickly back into position, though, as she cried without reserve.

Peter aimed the next strike from below, catching the tip of the worm and forcing it up to hit against her pubic bone. Gina's legs began to spasm, but she remained in position.

The next blow was just like the one before it, but this time the switch hit her labia below the clit before continuing its merciless journey up to its target. Gina stepped back to regain her balance, then doubled over from the pain.

What I saw next will always be burned into my memory. I hadn't known Peter long, but I never would have believed he was capable of such cruelty. As Gina sobbed and wailed, bent at the waist, Peter brought a devastating blow down across her buttocks. The blow straightened her out like an arrow, then he quickly brought another blow to her vagina, perhaps striking her worm, perhaps not, I don't know. It was all happening so fast, now. Gina began to fall backward, then another blow to the vagina sent her to the floor. Her butt hit first, then she sprawled out on her back. She rolled on her side, curled into a fetal position and sobbed, gasping for breath.

Peter must have received some sort of signal from Dort that I couldn't see. He went to Gina, picked her up, and carried her out. Peter followed.

"Bruce," Dort said, "pick up Gina's pretty dress and put it on Liza. We've been away from our guests far too long."

I stood up tentatively, letting the dildo explore within me as I moved. Bruce had me step into the garment, then brought it up the length of my body. It was just as light as it looked, clinging to my skin without need of any stays, buttons or clasps to hold it up. I looked down at myself and couldn't believe how wonderful it looked. I couldn't help but smile to myself and marvel at how quickly one's fortune can change. I'd been wanting something up my butt since I left the boat, and now I had it. I'd wanted to have something to wear, and now I had the most beautiful dress I'd ever seen. I wanted vengeance on Gina, and she had been dealt with more cruelly than I could ever have imagined. I had felt abandoned by Marc, but now I had Dort to protect me and Bruce to pamper me.

Dort led me slowly back to the party where she left me with Susan, Lori and her friend Bobbi, Sara, Jane, and several others. All had their hands bound behind them, and a banner reading "Bound to be Served" was fixed to a nearby tree. As other women would walk up to the group, Susan or one of the others would explain the movement and invite her to join. A pile of handcuffs, ropes, and even plastic ties filled a nearby chair. Each new recruit was bound by a helper, then brought to me and introduced. I was presented to each as the founding member, the philosopher-savant of the new group. I picked up the sense of things as I listened to others, and began to extol the virtues of complete dependence on one's helper.

"They're good for more than just maintenance and taking you to the bathroom, you know," I preached. "This is what they are destined to do - see to our every need. It's time they become the complete servants we deserve," I said with conviction.

Every woman within the sound of my voice offered her wrists to be bound: some just for the novelty of it, others to mimic the behavior of their friends, still others saw an opportunity to keep their helpers close, and some because it dawned on them that this was the logical conclusion to a lifestyle they had been born to. As the group grew, the more ardent supporters crowded around me, sat at my feet, and waited to listen to whatever I could think to say next. I heard others talking about me: one woman described me to another as the "sage" who just arrived from the mainland to launch a new era. There was a constant movement within the group as helpers fetched whatever their charges wanted, fed the women bite by bite, offered them their drinks, even scratched their noses when they itched. After a while, our group included over half the women at the party, and as they drifted in and out we lost track of them. They just blended into the festivities, went about party business, with hands bound behind them and helpers in tow.

My newfound stardom left me little time to be aware of what else was going on at the party, but from bits and pieces I was able to ascertain that the main attraction was the competition. The women who were competing in various categories (I didn't catch many except "most improved," which I already knew about, "best shape," and "longest," which apparently was won by the same woman every year) stood like statues on the small stages, or pedestals, that were scattered about. Their helpers stood at their sides with their belts draped over their forearms as a waiter might pose with a napkin. Party goers stopped to ask questions concerning maintenance and other pertinent items. Each "statue" wore a dress like mine, which people were free to lift in order to inspect whichever part of the competitor's anatomy was of interest. Official judges came by for measurements and to interview the contestants. I guessed that apparently Gina had been intended to compete in one category or the other.

I was drinking imported beer, munching salty snacks, and feasting on roasted pig as I talked with my new friends. Bruce, whose attentiveness had always been good, based no doubt on his loyalty to Dort, became increasingly servile as my reputation spread and my fame grew. I noticed, too, that he began to enjoy a certain deference for himself among the other helpers. Evidently he had begun the evening as the youngster, but now was helper to the "sage."

Susan never betrayed the fact that the idea for the group was her idea or that it was just a big scam to get me and my handcuffs into the party without attracting attention to Peter. She was having fun as it was, being my second lieutenant, and helping me with the many inconsistencies that arose in my discourse, my agenda. She reconciled my developing dogma with what she knew would be acceptable in this culture. When the competition took her and Jess away for about an hour, her friend Bobbi took over. Bobbi got into the role of promoting me so much that I began to believe she was ready to form a new religion.

"When Susan called me before the party and told me to wear handcuffs for Liza of the mainland, I didn't realize we were about to launch a new era," she stood and preached to those who could hear. "When our foremothers settled here generations ago, they created a special place where, openly and without intolerance, they could be stretched and pampered by their men and their daughters' purity would be forever safeguarded. Now we are called upon to perfect their work, stretch our horizons and take the final step, tethered, into paradise."

I guess the most extraordinary thing to me about the response to her speech was how it was punctuated by polite applause from the helpers and shouts of "yes" and "right on, sister!" from the bound women.

After a couple hours, the beer had its effect and I had to ask Bruce to take me to the bathroom. There was a line of about five women, each cuffed and being held at the elbow by her helper. When they saw me, I was ushered with great respect to the head of the line. Bruce and I entered the large, marble filled room almost immediately. As soon as the door closed, Bruce quickly removed my dress and unlocked the belt. He took it off completely and placed it on a small table that looked like it was made for that purpose. I stood naked in front of him, again. I tried not to blush, or feel awkward, but I couldn't help it.

"We should remove Leon before you pee," he said.

"Why?"

"You might accidentally expel it into the bowl. And, anyway, you've probably worn it long enough. It's not usually worn more than a couple hours at a time."

"It feels just fine. I'll keep it in. I'll show you how."

I liked the look on his face when he realized he had lost control of the situation. It felt good to be in charge and it made me bold. I instructed him to kneel in front of the bowl, and then standing, I straddled it facing him, just as Ally taught me to do it. I bent forward slightly and instructed him to spread my labia as much as he could with one hand while reaching around me to hold Leon in place with the other. I relaxed and the stream began. I watched his big, blue eyes against the background of his young, freckled face. His expression told me he had never seen anything like this, not ever. I liked being the teacher for a change.

When I finished, Bruce wiped me and then gently explored the depths of my pussy, as if it were part of the routine.

"It looks like Leon is doing his job, but if you'd like, I could do an 'after pee,' just to be sure."