Day 24: Untouchable

Armbinder

“Hey? Cecil? You in there, buddy?”
“Hmmm?” His gaze lifted from the bottom of the glass, at the bartender who poured him the drink no less than ten minutes ago.
“Your brew’s getting cold. Have you even touched it?” She asked.
“...I don’t know.” He uttered with a sigh. His stare remained just as forlorn as ever, focused on the empty air around the busty Dark Elf in vest and bowtie, rather than at her red eyes.
“All right. That’s it.” The bartender flicked the towel in her hand over her shoulder, leaning in on the counter, “Spill it out. What’s eating you up?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” He raised the glass to his pursed lips, taking a brief sip. Tasted of sweet fire.
“That thousand-yards-stare of yours.” She pointed out, “You’re getting it now, of all times? After three years under Victoria’s care? Normally, a subminatrix gets that within his first four days here, or they don’t get it at all. So spill the beans already.”

He sighed, dropping the glass back to the counter, “I thought you’d have heard by now, Vyria. The Ygalgar Sisters are back in town.”
With the drop of that name, the unshakable confidence of the bartender faltered for a second, “Ouch… so you think they’ll be coming here?”
Cecil gripped the glass by its mouth. He spun it in place on the counter, checking his reflection out at different angles from the bright yet moody light of the high-class venue.
“I know they’ll be coming here.” He replied, “They always come here. Because they can. Because no one can keep them from doing whatever in Hel they want.”

“You think the rumours are true?”
Cecil shrugged, “Who knows? What happens between our clients, stay between our clients. One thing is for sure though. Those who are handled by them only return as broken husks of their former selves. If they ever return at all.”
“Well, you know how it goes.” Said the bartender, “They lift so much as a finger at Victoria’s boys, they get to answer to her.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to go, huh?”
She nodded, “That’s how it’s always gone.”

Cecil sighed, “Yeah, but you know it better than me, don’t you? Nobody says no to the Ygalgar Sisters. They’re untouchable.”
“You thinking of running away?”
Cecil sighed lingeringly, taking another sip from the glass, before answering into it, “...Maybe.”
“Cecil, look at me.”
He raised his head, meeting her crimson eyes.

“If it was up to me,” She articulated, slowly and carefully, “A man like you, I would’ve snatched up and carried off as my sex ****.”
“Vyria…”
“No, no. Hear me out.” She insisted, “The moment I laid eyes on you, you would’ve been my prey. A tiny mouse at the paws of a hungry lioness. I would’ve snapped my whip around you and pulled you against me. Then, I would’ve lifted you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and raced back home. It wouldn’t even be hard. You’d spend the rest of your life serving at my feet in nothing but a dog collar.”
“I get your point.” He groaned.

“Same with my sister Navreh. Same with the groundskeeper. Same with every single Dark Elf in all of Dorthore. But none of them get to, and you know why? Because Victoria won’t let them. She’s made it abundantly clear that no one treats her men as just another pleasure toy. Sure, go ahead and play with them. But you gotta pay up. And there are boundaries which can never be crossed. Not under any circumstances. That’s how you’ve lived here in Dorthore until now. Because that’s how Victoria wants it. If you wanna chicken out. Fine. The door’s over there. But if there’s one person in this whole wide world who’s earned one goddamn chance, then dammit if it’s not her.”

That was something Cecil needed to hear. It wasn’t news to him, by a longshot. But it’s just something that’s worth being reminded of now and again. Especially during hard times like those.
Being a subminatrix wasn’t anything for the light-hearted. It took courage to resign ones trust to a complete stranger, who you knew nothing about except that she had a sadistic streak. Courage, and a resolute mind. Most men who came to Victoria left within the first week, and Cecil was proud that he had what it took. But he was never helpless, and he was never alone. Never in his wildest dreams would he imagined what it’d be like to end up at the mercy of these ladies without Victoria and her code of conduct to restrain them.

“Yes… “He said finally, “I get that. Thank you, Vyria.”
With that said, he downed the rest of the drink.

“It’s what I do.” She told him, popping up another bottle, “One’s coming up on the house.”
Cecil waved his hand dismissively, “I think I’ll call it for tonight.”
He pulled out a gold dukat from the chest pocket of his wine-red bathrobe, putting it down on the counter, “That should about cover it. Feel free to pocket the change.”
“Oh, how sweet of you!” Vyria snatched it up and pocketed the coin, pouring six silver coins from her pocket into the strongbox, “Don’t fall into a manhole on way to bed!”
She laughed at that. Cecil laughed as well on his way upstairs.

On the next day, in the afternoon, Cecil had been called to the courtyard of Victoria’s manor along with half a dozen of his fellow subminatrices. Like him, they stood nude but for a single silk loincloth elaborately wrapped around their waists. Along the far wall of the courtyard, a lineup of maids stood ready with a variety of bondage gear at the ready in their arms.

Walking up to the railing up at the balcony, there she was. Victoria. The mistress of the whole establishment. Their employer. She overlooked them as they awaited her command.
She was dressed in an ornate sky-blue dress that hugged her sculpted frame. Her white hair was whisked into a voluminous bob, and adorned with red and blue gems. Her boys adored her. Her friends respected her. Her enemies feared her.
Joining her on the balcony were five more Dark Elves, dressed in all manners of tight latex attires, their builds ranging from curvaceous MILFs with a dark allure, to trim and hot tomboys ready to crush any resistance, to adorably energetic gals with petite builds that belied the warped enthusiasm in their red eyes.
The Ygalgar Sisters.

But of course. Cecil let out a sigh. He knew he couldn’t expect anything else, but at least it was worth it for Victoria.
“Gentlemen,” Victoria started, “Today we have some very special visitors. They need no introduction.”
She gestured to the group of eager Dark Elves, clearly eager to unleash their sadistic urges.
“Are… Are those the Ygalgar Sisters?”
“Are the rumours true?”
“Victoria wouldn’t let them hurt us… would she?”

The latex-clad ladies chuckled at the collective fear and confusion from the men beneath them, eyeing them up like prey.
“However,” She continued her announcement, “I have made it clear to the present company that unless they can be expected to abide by the conduct of our House, their access to our subminatrix service must unfortunately be restricted… At least to a certain extent.”

Cecil smiled upon hearing that. It seemed they weren’t so untouchable after all. Still, it’s not like they couldn’t get their hands on him. He wasn’t safe. Not quite yet.
“Yet we were unable to unanimously settle on the details of how their access should be restricted. And so, we ask for your assistance on that matter. Please, stay still while my maids install your armbinders.”
The maids closed in on the men. They were asked to keep their hands steadily behind their backs, while the maids wrapped them in the latex casings, then tightened the lace. One by one, their arms tugged closely together into a single stiff appendage hanging helplessly immobile behind their backs.

“The rules here are simple. You will now be given ten minutes. During this time, you have the chance to clear the challenges within this course, and earn the key to unlock your bindings. Whoever is left trapped in their armbinders when the time has run its course, will be at the mercy of our guests the Ygalgar Sisters for the remainder of the day.”
The men exchanged glances with one another, anxious on what trials they would have to endure to escape that terrible fate.
“Wait!” A young subminatrix, called Luke, cried out, “Does… Does that mean if all of us finish the course, none of us ends up in their laps?”

Victoria looked down at Luke, but did not answer. The Sisters cackled amongst themselves at the question. But to Cecil it seemed like that was implied by everything that Victoria had said.
“You will start running towards Entrance 7 on my signal.” Victoria shouted, “Ready? Set… Go!”
As she flipped an hourglass, a phantasmal copy of which appeared suspended high in the air.

Everyone sprinted as fast and as far as their legs could carry. As it turned out, Entrance 7 was on the top of a suspended vertical ladder. Fortunately, Victoria had placed a mattress at the bottom. If the boys were to ever trip up, they would land safely beneath. And they did trip. A lot. Without any grip, they all had to balance on each rung. And every time they took a single step, they were balancing on one foot. Without any grip, they also had to hoist themselves by their legpower alone. Rest assured, it did not go well for any of them. It was quite easy to tell who would fall within the first few rungs. They would shift themselves awkwardly as soon as they stepped onto the ladder, and for each step they acted as if the next rung was flying loose and they were trying to catch it in the air.

They fell promptly back into the mattress at the bottom. Unharmed, but with no arms available, getting back up turned out to be an ordeal. They had to waste valuable time squirming and kicking in order to flip themselves back upright.
Cecil looked up at the hourglass suspended in the sky. A good chunk of time, three minutes maybe, had passed already. Possibly even five. Now it was his turn.

Cecil tried a different approach. He backed into the ladder, climbing it backwards. Like that, he secured his feet inside the ladder. He then hooked the higher rung with his butt, effectively sitting on it. Like that, he could scoot himself up with relative safety. Granted, his bound arms jutting out behind him got in the way when he was moving up. Still, as long as he was mindful, keeping track of where he had his hands and feet, he could use that to his advantage and use his single stiff limb to further secure himself to the ladder. Slowly, but surely, he made his way up. The only downside was that since the ladder itself was behind him, he couldn’t actually see it or his progress. Instead, he saw the looming height before him that unveiled the further the higher he climbed. Cecil felt his mind swirling, and his body tensing. Fatigue kicked in. He began thinking that he couldn’t possibly make it. Still, he wasn’t intent on falling any time soon. Not with such a mortifying fall to look forward to, even with a safe landing.

No one was more surprised than him when he scooted onto the ledge to the entrance, and he rolled back to his feet, onto the next challenge.
He ran into the next room, which was entirely red. At the center, seven alluring Dark Elf seductresses dressed in red leather from top to toe sat in a row on a stool each. Emphasis on toe. Not toes. They were wearing one boot on one leg only. The other one was completely bare, the smooth copper skin shimmering in the dim lighting. One of them lifted her ankle, pointing her wiggling toes at Cecil.

“Wanna keep going, boytoy?” She said in a low alluring voice, “Then get your mistress dressed.”
She lowered her ankle, pointing her foot at the boot on the floor next to her.
Behind that lineup, the wall was full of revolving doors.
The message was clear: In order to get past, the subminatrix would need to put the boot on his mistress.

Cecil moved past the ladies to push at the doors, just in case. Indeed, they didn’t budge. These were no red herrings. He really did need to strap the boot onto her foot. And these were thigh-high boots. He looked up at the hourglass present in the room. Less than five minutes left for sure. He wasted no time trying to find the best way to manipulate the leather without hands. Biting was the most obvious contender, but then the flexible material bent into a shape that did not match the shape of her foot.
He could zip it up, but then her foot wouldn’t fit inside. He could zip it down, but then he couldn’t accurately guide the foot inside. There had to be some kind of happy medium, and Cecil was intent on finding what it was.

He tugged at the boot, like a dog bringing his master’s slippers.
Nothing he tried seemed to work. It didn’t help that he was at an awkward angle. He then tried using his feet to manipulate the boot, but they turned out to be far less prehensile than he would have liked. Not to mention the difficulty of aiming from so far away, lying prone in such an awkward position.

By then, more of the men had entered the room, trying their own means to fit the boot onto their respective mistress.
Looking at them trying and failing with the exact same methods he had tried, Cecil realized that he needed to rethink his approach.
He looked up at the hourglass. Two or three minutes left.
Nonetheless, he closed his eyes.
Then, he opened them anew.

“Mistress… “ He asked on his knees, “May I please my mistress by worshiping her legs with my tongue?”
“But of course, my little boytoy. Go ahead.” She said, smirking.
Cecil quickly bowed his head in gratitude, then got started. He licked her along her long plush thighs. All over. Between her legs to reach on the inside, and down to her ankle. He let his moist tongue lap along her skin as he trailed his tongue along it.
He finally came to the foot. Even then he didn’t hesitate. He was trained not to, except when his mistress preferred ****. He kissed her foot over and under, licking the length of her sole, all the way onto her toes.
There. Her leg had been lubricated. He had no idea if it would work, but he was ****.
He zipped the boot up nearly all the way, and tried pulling her leg over it. Much easier. He used his feet to kick it in place, but the angle was too awkward.
He looked up at the clock. Just over one minute

The rest of the subminatrices had copied his approach and were making progress. But he couldn’t quite manage to wrap it all the way. Something was missing. That’s when he realized… He ran behind his mistress and crawled under the chair. Much better leverage from that angle. His head did end up nuzzled between her thighs. With a single decisive squeeze, he would be done for. She shot him an endearing smile, watching him struggle unconcerned that he ended up in such an intimate and **** place.

He managed to pull it the last stretch. Finally. He crawled back, kicked himself up and sprinted to before his mistress, zipping the boot up all the way.
“Very impressive,” His mistress sang out, “Now, how about you seal your fate with a kiss?”
She lifted her now booted foot up, pointing the tip towards him. He pursed his lips, and touched them at the tip where her big toe should be.

PING!
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