GEETWO STORIES - PAGE 029

- POSTAL ORDER -

By

Geetwo

writergeetwo@googlemail.com

When her Master sent her into town to get the monthly shopping, he specifically asked her to call into the Post Office to pick up a postal order he needed. Unfortunately, she forgot and only realised her error when she returned.

It was all the excuse he needed and as he smiled wickedly, she knew that she was in for a session of discipline down in the play-room.

As his slave of almost four years, she knew better than to argue or try to appeal against his decisions and as he ordered her into her strictest costume, her belly began to swirl with the submissive heat she knew so well.

With her waist compressed to wasp-like proportions by her tightly-laced, steel-boned corset, her legs moulded in skin-tight stockings and her feet arched almost vertically in her eight-inch heels, she submitted meekly to having her arms bound behind her in the single-glove that clamped her limbs from finger-tips almost to her shoulders in a strained, uncomfortable column.
Her isolation helmet came next and when the heavy leather encased her entire head and its straps were buckled, her world became utterly black and silent for the in-built pads sealed her ears and eyes with a massive gag filling her mouth.

She felt her tall posture-collar encircle her neck, preventing virtually any movement of her head and when the straps from her single-glove were clipped to the rear of the collar, she knew there was no escape.

Teetering on her heels, she was led down to the play-room and when he placed her on a slightly raised platform then the ring at the crown of her helmet was locked to a ring just above her head-height, she knew exactly where she was

It was her Master’s idea of “justice” she assumed ... his way of making the punishment fit the “crime” she had committed.

She had forgotten to buy the postal order he wanted, so now she would spend time standing at the post ...

His fingers tapped her buttocks and as she obediently opened her thighs just enough to allow him to reach through, he took hold of the short strap attached to the post at waist-height and pulled her arms down behind her until he could clip the strap to the ring on the finger-end of her single-glove.

Between her legs, the strap tightened as she closed her thighs, holding her arms fully extended and pressing the strap against her sex and clitoris. It was distinctly arousing, but not nearly enough as she knew from previous experience, to allow her to climax by flexing her leg muscles and rubbing herself against the post ...

A second strap running behind her thighs and a third looped around her high heels, ensured that she would not be moving anywhere and as each of her breasts was lifted in turn and their nipple-rings clipped to short chains dangling from rings screwed into the sides of the post, she gasped with the realisation that even attempting to alter her position would be punished by sharp, painful tugs on her delicate buds.

She was “posted” and no matter how long her Master chose to leave her to endure the relentless aching of her arms and back and legs and feet, she would have no choice but to stand motionless and in need until he decided to release her.

When that might be, she had no idea. If he really needed that postal order, the round-trip to town and back was a minimum of three hours.