“I find this system is perfect to totally immobilize your captive when you don’t want him squirming around,” said the busty brunette who was nearly bursting out of the top of her tight red latex bodysuit.
No freaking kidding, I thought, as I hung there in front of her and her companion, stretched out like a deer hide in this high-tech torture chamber. For a subterranean dungeon in a huge old mansion, it was surprisingly warm and well-furnished.
The brunette and her guest, a stunning redhead clad in black leather and fishnet stockings, were seated in comfortable chairs as they inspected my suspension rigging. Big-screen monitors lined the wall, showing scenes from elsewhere on the estate. I was not the only person in bondage.
There were some old-fashioned touches in the place; the room was lit by actual torches and a real fireplace. The walls were lined with ropes, shackles, whips, and leather items of all shapes and sizes. Other furnishings included a rack, a St. Andrews cross, a bondage chair with stirrups, and a lot of paraphernalia I could not identify.
A gorgeous, fair-skinned female dressed only in heels, a collar, and a tiny, extremely sheer slave tunic was serving them cocktails and canapes. Her body was firm but lush, like that of a dancer. Her platinum hair was cut very short, her nipples were pierced with golden rings. I think her labia lips bore metal as well.
I was bound in a standing, spread-eagle position within a large, firmly anchored, square metal frame. My wrist cuffs were attached to cables that pulled them out to the upper corners. The cords on my ankle cuffs stretched my legs down and to the sides, so I was balanced on my toes.
The brunette explained that all the cables were attached to mechanical ratchet pulleys that could be independently loosened or tightened a millimeter at a time, and then locked in place. As my body would adjust to the tension pulling on my limbs, my tormentors could increase the tug and keep me constantly stretched out to my maximum.
But my captors had gone the extra mile and attached more gadgets and cables to contort my aching body. A corset around my stomach squeezed my waist, with cords to the side that controlled the tension in the laces. A leather harness around my head stretched it up towards the ceiling. Just for fun, an inflatable gag filled my mouth.
Also, my nipples had been pierced with rings and connected to cables that pulled them up and forward. An anal hook yanked my pelvis backward and up, and to complete the suspension, a cord attached to a testicle ring dragged my balls straight downward. I was being pulled in nine different directions and my naked body was already sweating and shaking from the strain. I was a college gymnast, in excellent shape, but this stress on my body was insane.
"This is very impressive, Lydia,” said the woman in black, obviously a friend and guest. “Your engineers have outdone themselves.”
“Thank you, Eve,” Lydia replied. “I call it ‘The Spreader’. By remote control on this tablet, we can tighten any of the restraints.” She pressed a button, and I could feel my balls being dragged down a fraction of an inch. Then my legs were spread further apart, raising my toes an inch off the floor. I was now hanging by my wrists.
“I can also send electrical pulses of varied power or waveform to any of the restraints.” My ass and balls registered a tingling that I assumed could be ramped up to an excruciating level of pain.
“The genital components of this device can be adjusted to the female body as well. How about it, Bella?” she asked the slave girl. “Would you like to be up there next?”
“Oh, no ma’am,” she gasped. Then she caught herself and cast her eyes down. “I mean, if it pleases the Mistress, of course, I would do it, but . . .”
She shivered in fright as her words trailed off.
Lydia laughed and resumed her demonstration. “The construction can be lowered into the ground or raised up, so we can easily reach any part of his body without needing to stoop or stand on a stool.” With that, a motor activated, and the frame lifted into the air, bringing my crotch to their face level as they stepped in front of me.
“Look, Eve,” the Mistress said to her friend as she ran a finger up and down my cock, “He’s very hard. Keep in mind, I gave him a ton of aphrodisiacs, but with all this strain, he should have gone soft. This jock must be a real pain slut.”