Controlling Christine, Book Two

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

My Escorts Arrive

John

The next week seemed to fly by and I was fully occupied with my end of the plans, as well as keeping Christine busy at her schedule, then, Saturday morning arrived with a rush. I awakened her earlier than most mornings, and had her ready for pick-up by Danielle at seven am. We were just finishing our coffee in the kitchen as the day began to bloom fully across the large, secluded back yard when the door chimes announced Danielle’s and Antonnia’s arrival. Leaving Christine for a moment, I went to the door, let them in, then brought them to the kitchen.

“Would you like a coffee, ladies?”

“No, thank you, John,” Danielle answered. Antonnia just shook her head.

Danielle wore a pair of tight, maroon leather trousers and a matching jacket over a white silk blouse; the whole ensemble setting off her Titan, shoulder-length hair. On her feet were a pair of low-heeled, black pumps and a large, matching purse was slung casually over her left shoulder, completing her outfit.

Antonnia, by contrast, was clad in a tight, navy blue leather, ankle-length tube skirt that followed the contours of her hips and legs as though painted on. My eyes were drawn magnetically to the subtly revealing bumps and depressions that outlined her chastity belt, hidden beneath a wide black band clamping the waist of the skirt and thus concealing the joint of what appeared to be some sort of upper body-covering exercise suit made of a thin, greyish leather. This had a wide, reinforced Mandarin-type collar some two-and-a-half inches high and it followed the profile of her throat closely, clasped snugly against the olive skin. Without looking, I knew that the back zipper was locked securely. At the front, a small decorative-appearing ring dangled from what looked like a costume jewellery fixture, but I knew that in reality it meant business. Her body-suit was covered by a matching and tightly-fitted leather jacket that emphasized her appearance of stylish, but controlled femininity. For the moment it was opened to reveal her under-suit and it was obvious that the jacket would fit her upper body tightly when zipped closed and its small but not decorative closure straps were all buckled.

Then I noticed her arms and hands.

The jacket sleeves from the shoulders to her wrists were normal enough, but below that point, there was a distinct separation from everyday wear. Antonnia’s hands were glove-clad, these emerging from under the jacket’s snug, wide wrist cuffs. Her fingers stuck down rigidly and unnaturally inside their tight little tubes, while from the end of each sleeve, two long, matching smoothly-surfaced, black, foam-rubber-filled half-ovoids flopped loosely, looking sort of like the opened halves of an elongated egg.

“Well ladies, Christine’s ready if you are,” I grinned, inspecting Antonnia a little more closely.

“I’ll get the gown and accessories out to the car John,” Danielle smiled, “ and you can entertain these two ‘til I get back, okay?”

“Sure. Is everything ready on your end Danielle?”

“Oh yeah!” she said with an evil chuckle over her shoulder while she picked up the bagged gown and boxes then walked down the hall to the front door. “We’re pretty well set for the rest of the day. All we really have to do is get Christine’s hair, make-up, and nails done then meet you at the church.”

The front door swung shut behind her while both Christine and I stared at Antonnia. As was normal now, Christine was kept always fully under the control of her speech inhibitor, and therefore remained silent when I walked around inspecting her sister in captivity. Antonnia too stood silently while I checked her out. Behind her back I saw that the sleeves of her jacket had very sturdy, colour-matched zippers running from the shoulders down to her elbows, and they’d been closed all the way, holding her upper arms firmly against her body; while her feet, peeping out from beneath the reinforced hem of the tube skirt, were contained in six-inch heeled, laced-up boots. I was still inspecting her when Danielle re-entered the kitchen.

“What do you think of Antonnia’s costume?” she asked and grinned when I turned to her.

“Certainly looks like she’s under control.” I smiled back.

“Well, I wanted to show this outfit to you and so did she. Right, Antonnia?”

“Y-y-yes, Mistress,” Antonnia spoke for the first time since entering.

“I think it’s time to get you out to the car again dear,” Danielle said, moving to Antonnia’s front.

“Yes, Mistress. I-I’m ready,” she acknowledged submissively.

I watched in fascination while Danielle efficiently made her companion into a cute, leather- covered package of feminine helplessness. She started by picking up Antonnia’s left forearm, then spent a moment arranging her stiffened fingers in the slight depressions of one of the flopping, half-egg-shaped things at the end of the sleeve. The other half was flipped over the back of Antonnia’s stiffened palm and fingers while she stared down at her hand, then taking the tab of the finely-toothed nylon zipper, Danielle pulled it closed around the entire circumference of the elongated egg! A narrow, Velcro-lined flap flipped over the zipper’s closure, concealing it completely and so the whole structure acting to immobilize Antonnia’s fingers very efficiently and making it impossible for her to free herself. Danielle pressed the tab into a fitting on the reinforced cuff and it clicked solidly, locking Antonnia’s hand inside. On the inner surface of the wrist was a small glittering staple and it took no imagination to know that too had a purpose. Danielle picked up Antonnia’s other hand and a moment later it had also been rendered useless to its owner.

“There, dear!” she smiled at Antonnia, “That should keep you out of mischief until we get to the Beauty Parlour!”

Antonnia stood for a moment with her arms hanging by her sides then slowly and with some difficulty raised and bent them so that she could closely inspect the encasing mitts while inside the foam-packed interiors, she tried to flex her fingers against the rigid constrictions of the gloves and the dense linings. Only small tell-tale humps on the surfaces of the mitts indicated her struggles to be free of the confining arrangement and she looked mournfully down at them for a couple of seconds then dropped her hands back to her sides.

“Okay,” Danielle said briskly, “time to finish you off.”

Antonnia began shivering slightly when Danielle picked up her encased hands then tucked them into little pouches, supposedly pockets, at the front of the jacket just under the projecting shelf of her breasts and I continued to watch closely while she pulled out a short, sturdy strap, then ran it through the staples of the cuffs and jerked in the slack. Antonnia’s mitted hands were pulled deeply into the pocket pouches, ensuring that she was unable to withdraw them and to ensure that her bondage remained hidden, Danielle pulled the pocket’s edges up. These were short, collar-like extensions, that rose up her arms about five cm past the cuffs, then buckled straps on the inner sides were drawn tight, pulling her wrists against her waist. The fastenings would be invisible, and it would appear that Antonnia had just tucked her hands into the pockets to keep them warm. Christine and I watched intently while Danielle next zipped up the front of the tight jacket, having to struggle a little to get the garment closed over the bulge of Antonnia’s breasts, then pulled it right up to the base of her neck, leaving the front of the ring-endowed collar of her under-suit fully visible and available. The next two minutes were spent fastening the little straps up the front, over the zipper flap.

Antonnia shook her head a little and jerked her arms as much as she could against their securements while Danielle adjusted her purse, then stood back and looked her over. She appeared almost completely normal, but in reality she was held completely under control. I admired the subtlety of the bondage arrangement, but that was lost an instant later when Danielle produced a thick, matching blue leather strap from her capacious purse, then reached out and clicked its glittering snap-hook to the ring on the collar of Antonnia’s inner suit, just under her chin! Antonnia surged back, trying to avoid the tether, but Danielle’s hand was too fast and now she stood leashed and helpless. Danielle pulled on it, dragging Antonnia a little closer to her, and although at first she tried to resist, Antonnia had to follow the command. What wasn’t apparent was that under the wide band of her visible collar, there was another, narrower strap that tightened like a noose when tension was placed on the front ring, just like a sliding-chain dog’s choker. She either did as commanded, or she stopped breathing. Danielle smiled happily, her slave-girl now standing docilely beside her, then turned to Christine.

“Could you free, Christine, please?” she asked me.

“Just a second, Danielle,” I said and went to get a short leather Transportation Leash for my wife-to-be from the Playroom. A minute later I was back in the kitchen and had fastened it to Christine’s front collar ring then handed the free end to Danielle and knelt down to unlock Christine’s ‘Bar leash.

“Okay, girls! We’re off!” Danielle grinned over at me. “We’ll see you at the altar!”

“Right!” I returned her smile and ushered them to the front door, bringing up the rear of the little procession.

Just before they left the house, I handed Danielle Christine’s remote control, then lifted Christine’s lower facial veil, took my slave girl in my arms and gave her a long, deep kiss. Her soft lips writhed against mine with returned, yet silenced passion and when we finally parted, I stood back and inspected her once more.

She was as helpless as Antonnia and her bondage as well hidden. I had insisted that she wear a full, floor-length leather skirt to completely conceal her ankle-length ‘Bar and hobbles. Today though, the usual short wires used to limit her paces had been replaced by a short, light, chromed, tinkling chain. With every pace she took, its musical links swung out a little from under the hem of the heavy skirt, tantalizing the eyes and teasing the mind of anyone who caught a glimpse. She also wore white six-inch-heeled, tightly-laced knee boots, further limiting her hesitant steps. Her upper body was hidden beneath a matching, three quarter length leather jacket, loosely yet securely belted around her compressed waist, and in a manner similar to the way in which Danielle had secured Antonnia’s hands; I’d placed hers in the pocket slits, passing them right through the jacket, then locked them to the projecting front ring of her Chastity Belt. Christine’s hands and fingers were free, but she was unable to do anything with them.

I draped the veil over her face again, hiding her nose rings from public scrutiny and thus leaving only her eyes and forehead visible. She turned at the drag of her implacably demanding leash and stepped outside with a little gasp when Danielle activated her electronic one also. The captive young females were drawn down the sidewalk to the waiting blue van, then quickly assisted into it. I was pleased to see that Danielle was just as thorough as I when she fastened Christine to her reclined seat. With a last wave I stepped back into the house and closed the door to begin my own preparations.