Return to Mirkada

Chapter 2: Getting there is half the fun

*

The Todos Mundo was the hotel from which we had travelled to Mirkada two year before. It had changed a little in that time; most obviously, a new coat of paint hid the facade that had given it a look of crumbling colonial splendour.

On our first visit we had both been intrigued by what we had read about Mirkada but also nervous about the trip, our expectations of what we would find there had been unclear; then we had been bondage neophytes, experimenting with a little gentle tying but, I suppose, even at that stage we both wanted more though neither of us would have admitted it. What couple would not want to visit a city where bondage is the norm even if it didn't always extend to the bedroom? However, I wonder if we would have gone through with it if we had seen the photographs of the city that now decorated the lobby of the Todos Mondo.

How Sally might have reacted then had she seen the blonde who crossed our path as we entered?

She was dressed in full vilisqaz, blindfolded and gagged, her wrists crossed and strapped together behind her back; the garment was in white leather with gold buckles and was striking against her honey-tanned skin; it was a rather daring example too, quite the opposite of Taiarche's extremely modest one; the blonde's clothing consisted of a few tiny straps, the top little more than two triangles of leather thongs framing her pert little breasts, straps ran from these to similar bands encircling her slender thighs and then a few thin straps were buckled round her long slim legs; the boots of the garment were more sandals though did force her to walk on the tips of her toes. She was clearly very new to this sort of clothing or, perhaps, the footwear at least; walking on straight legs, she was bent almost double at the waist, tottering awkwardly, her upper body swaying with each step so that she looked rather like a newborn fawn trying to stay on its feet, albeit one with two legs, as she followed her partner, clad in a lounge suit and brogues, across the lobby towards the bar.

'Someone obviously didn't pay attention in ballet classes.' Sally grinned mischievously.

The girl was drooling freely around her gag and had left a trail of saliva across the polished tiles. As she passed I could see that the strap at the back of her vilisqaz supported her arms, keeping them in the small of her back and exposing her bottom. Her garment or, in this case perhaps the word restraint was appropriate, didn't seem to have a crotch strap and the back strap ended in a ring which held her butt plug on place.

'Eyes front, Mr Frost.' Sally pressed her finger to the side of my jaw directing me towards the check in desk.

The clerk at the desk had the typical complexion of a Mirkadian with sandy hair and a darkly freckled skin. He was welcoming enough but rather more reserved than I remembered he predecessor being. Nevertheless, he quickly broached the topic of whether we planned to visit Mirkada and, if so, whether we knew of the customs of the city. I told him we were fully aware but he went on to ask Sally the same question. Once again, he seemed unconvinced by her answer however, he did inform us that buses ran there daily and, if we wanted to ensure a place we would need to book.

This was another change. When we had last visited there were two buses a week.

He remained rather reserved until he checked our reservation on his register.

'You are friends of Councillor Silaxis?'

We assured him we were and were soon on our way up to the Presidential Suite.

*

'We could stay here,' I had suggested as I sipped my complimentary champagne.

'And miss the chance to show that blonde bimbo how it's done properly.' Sally had flashed one of her dazzling smiles.

So there I was once again entering the bar of the Todos Mundo with Sally in full vilisqaz, leashed, collared, her arms sheathed, blindfolded, the large ball of her gag sitting between her white teeth, rouged lips stretched, saliva beading on them, about to spill over onto her chin and down onto her leather strapped breasts.

The first time we had done this, we had both been rather hesitant although, at the time, I could well understand Sally's reluctance. On this occasion she entered with the grace and confidence of a Mirkadian lady.

I spotted the blonde kneeling on a cushion, still looking somewhat uncomfortable in her vilisqaz. Her blindfold and gag had been remove but she knelt slightly hunched, not straight backed as Mirkadian women did and I saw the envy in her blue eyes as she watched Sally glide effortlessly past. Sally drew the eyes of the blonde's fully dressed partner too, a young man in his mid twenties who showed more than a passing interest in my beautiful and tightly restrained forty year old wife.

She doesn't walk like Rihanna, Sally is far sexier.

The bar was quite full but we were guided to a table where Sally knelt gracefully on the cushion placed there for her.

I ordered dhakaris and sat back in the comfortable armchair awaiting their arrival leaving Sally kneeling, blind and helpless beside me; she was, after all, still being punished for her deception over the incident with the vice chancellor and the vibrator.

As I looked around the room I spotted another European couple in which the wife had adopted Mirkadian dress. The woman was a brunette, probably in her early thirties from what I could see of her face and, judging by the age of her companion. He was wearing a wedding ring though, I suppose the woman might be his mistress.

Whatever their domestic arrangements, it was clear she was as comfortable as Sally in what I can only term her submission. Her vilisqaz was deep red and composed entirely of broad straps perhaps an inch and a half across; her mitted hands were locked to her collar and her elbows pulled firmly behind her. She had generous breasts with extremely large nipples which were pierced and hung with pendants that might have been rubies.

There was something about her posture and the slight blush on her skin suggesting that, like Sally, she was also enjoying being on public display half naked, leashed and in bondage. Despite clearly being there for some time, the woman was blindfolded and gagged, her drink untouched on table in front of her to which her leash was clipped. I watched the man sip his drink and then lean down, whispering something into his wife's ear. The woman nodded and he reached into his jacket.

A moment later the woman jumped slightly in her bonds setting her nipple pendants swinging.

At that moment our drinks arrived and I turned my attention to my own delightful submissive, removing her gag and holding her glass to her lips. I kept her blindfolded, though I did describe the room to her, updating her on my thoughts about the blonde and telling her about the brunette.

I saw Sally smile. 'So, what's she doing now?'

I looked discretely across at the brunette to find my suspicions confirmed; her skin had become more flushed and I could see a sheen of sweat her chest; the nipple pendents were still swinging and her big nipples looked even bigger than before. Her breathing was rapid and she was drooling freely around her gag.

The man leaned in, again whispering something to his wife.

The brunette shook her head, quite vigorously, causing saliva to drip off the rings holding her gag and setting her nipple pendants swinging wildly.

A few other customers in the bar had noticed and were watching her discretely. I saw one slide a smart phone from his pocket and activate its camera but this was spotted by the waiter who politely asked him to put it away, though from the way he shook his head, I gathered he disapproved as much of what the brunette and her husband were doing as the attempt to film it.

'She's about to cum then is she?' I heard Sally whisper discretely.

'Soon, I think.'

'Glad you're enjoying the show.' Sally's voice contained a hint of reproach.

I gave her another sip of her drink then slipped my hand into the ring of her collar and she turned her head up.

I kissed her gently on the lips.

'I hope you're not trying to get round me.' Sally licked her lips.

'It's you who need to get round me, you're the one being punished.'

'Yes, Master.' Sally's tone was slightly sarcastic.

She bowed her head and I looked back at the brunette. The woman was clearly close to orgasm, lost now in a world of her own, rocking slightly in her bonds, her nipple pendant's swinging wildly; she was drooling freely now as she panted around her gag.

Her husband leaned towards her again and again she shook her head, probably even more vigourously.

Then she stiffened, her head tipped back, breasts thrust forward, a small gasp escaping around her gag. After a few moment, I saw her husband reach into his jacket pocket again then gently stroke his wife's hair. She was panting hard, her large breasts in their latticework of straps rising and falling were soaked with saliva.

The man glanced around and then took another sip of his drink.

'Was that it?' Sally asked quietly.

'Yes. I think so.'

'Hardly worth the effort,' Sally opined. 'What's happening now?'

I looked back, the man was standing, somewhat awkwardly, presumably to cover his erection. I saw him unclip his wife's leash from the table and help her to her feet. She wobbled slightly but kept her balance then he lead her from the room.

'I think they've gone somewhere for a bit more privacy.'

'So are you going to make me cum in front of the assembled masses?'

'Do you want me to.'

Sally grinned. 'Very tempting, Mr Frost, but I'm not in full holiday mode yet. Perhaps I'll do a floor show when we get back from Mirkada; afterall, I'll have to show off my new outfit.'

'You think I'm buying you a new vilisqaz?' I was teasing her. I was hardly going to come all this way and not buy some new bondage gear.

'I'm counting on it.'

'You'll have to be a very good girl then.'

'Then why don't you take me back to the room and let me show you how much of a good girl I can be.'

*

The film crew picked us up after breakfast. Sally was already in vilisqaz though this was partly concealed beneath a flowing linen dress in a pastel red. She was not leashed or bound but she was collared and the split to the upper thigh and slits in the bodice of her dress showed the multiple straps buckled tightly around her slim toned body. She sashayed down the hotel steps in her toe-boots with the poise of a film star and slipped into the waiting car with a flash of pretty much everything from shoulder to ankle.

She certainly had shown me what a good girl she could be overnight, performing oral sex restrained and on her knees and, when I told her I expected her to swallow, much to my surprise she did just that.

The holiday magic was clearly starting to work.

However, we weren't here just for a holiday, we were here to make a film.

Much to our astonishment, the crew were both women.

Priya, who introduced herself as an investigative journalist and documentary producer was probably of northern Indian origin with very dark skin, high cheekbones, and firm lips; her dark, almost black hair was gathered behind her head into a long braid that hung to her buttocks. She was slim and pretty, even allowing for her rather prominent nose; she was also heavily made up and dressed: tight linen pencil skirt and sleeveless blouse with lacy bra underneath, short practical heels, bare legs.

Her film company seemed to have just one employee; Kirsty was camera girl, sound technician and gofer; she was shorter than her boss and more curvaceous with ringlets of brown hair and soft brown eyes in a pretty, round face that became beautiful when she smiled. Like many in her role, her clothing was practical; a grey T-shirt and khaki gillette with multiple pockets, turn up shorts and walking boots.

'You do know where we're going?' Sally was the first to address the obvious thorny issue after introductions were completed and we were working our way through the traffic which comprised a mix of shiny modern and extremely ancient cars, diesel trucks and ox carts; towards the main highway to Mirkada.

'Of course.' Priya sounded authoritative as she spoke. 'Dr Frost's notes were very thorough'

I beamed slightly at the compliment

'I did a mini-series on city states,' I told her.

'Yes, I know, I saw the end of one of the programmes.' Her tone told me not to ask what she thought of it.

'I was hoping to do an episode on Mirkada but the producer's weren't keen'

'I can see why.' Perhaps Priya had read my summary and prospective script.

'The history of Mirkada is very interesting.'

'Yes, I'm sure it is though I can't believe how repressed the women are.'

This made Sally sit up and take an interest. 'I'm not sure it's as clear cut as that, perhaps you should spend a few days in the city before you make up your mind.'

'The woman have been kept on bondage since the middle ages; they're lead round half naked on leashes!' Priya was forceful in her argument though, of course, we both knew that while the first part of the sentence was true it was only women visiting the city who had to be leashed, for locals it was optional but for women in full vilisqaz who were often blindfolded when taken out by their husbands it was something of a necessity.

'It is said to be a form of respect.' I told her. 'Initiated on the orders of the high priestess, Jashumin in the twelfth century.'

'Yes, I bet the city's elders were quick to support that.' Priya had clearly been thinking about all this. 'A very good way of imposing control on the women in society.'

'The city's elders at the time were mostly women,' I reminded her. 'I suspect they were more than happy not to have to labour in the fields.'

'But what about this vilithqaz?' She asked, giving it what was thought to be the original Spanish pronunciation.

'That evolved from straps used to bind the women.' Sally had done her reading too. 'Over time the became more ornate.' She pulled her skirt back to show the straps around her legs.

'I'm surprised that an academic of your stature would fall for that.' Priya had done her research on us too. 'And, I must say, I'm surprised to see you actually wearing one.'

'It helps me to rest on holiday.' Sally informed her rather brusquely. 'I can hardly work in these shoes.'

Priya looked somewhat disdainful.

The discussion of Mirkadian history continued, however, we didn't argue further about bondage or the vilisqaz and didn't mention the obvious flaw in Priya and Kirsty's plans; we can't influence our own children so we weren't going to try with others'.

Sometimes it is important to make your own mistakes in life.

*

Our ride to city was a lot more comfortable in the airconditioned car.

After the initial exchange, Priya passed much of the journey in silence, cycling through her notes and her phone and her laptop

Though quieter at first, Kirsty subsequently appeared more talkative; she, had read my work a little quite widely and even seen a couple of my programmes; at this rate I thought, I might even reach double figures in the viewing tables.

She appeared excited to meet me and her lovely brown eyes flashed as he told me of

her aspirations to a travel writer. She had, she said, studied photography at university and then taken a postgraduate course in film.

'Anyone can write but it takes skill to use a camera properly,' she told me. 'I wanted to get that bit right.'

I wasn't sure I agreed with this having marked many student papers

She said she had seen Priya's post about setting up a film company and recalled their meeting one night in the student union bar. She had responded and rekindled their relationship.

'She wants to make something progressive and cutting edge; a short, hard hitting documentary...'. Kirsty seemed keen to make this point clear and I thought it was very much a direct quote from Priya. Kirsty had seemed the sort of travel writer who would immerse herself in a culture for months at a time, live among people to write and photograph or film their stories rather than parachute in with a sheaf of notes and tight schedule; perhaps, I thought, this assignment was a means to an end; but then I noticed there was something in the way Kirsty looked at her companion which made me wonder if there wasn't a deeper loyalty.

A means to what end?

I looked at Sally who was smiling as she looked out of the window at the arid countryside rolling past the window and recalled a quote she'd used in a recent lecture about youth being more ready to put loyalty before truth.

*

The highway was new and most of it was finished so it was a mere four hours before we could see Mirkada rising from the plains, imposing, with its walls and turrets. It was a marvellous sight and not only because of the memories it kindled.

As the car pulled up I was immediately taken back to my first visit by the line of tourists waiting for the bus, lingerie clad women, one with her wrists still cuffed behind her and one in a full vilisqaz standing elegantly beside her parter. They were different women of course and the line was longer than I remembered but I couldn't suppress the surge of excitement at seeing them. This time I made no attempt to hide my curiosity.

'Eyes front, Mr Frost.'

As before, there were no cars allowed in the city and we were dropped off by the gates, not far from the stalls selling their overpriced restraints to tourists.

The driver helped Kirsty unload her kit, while Priya went to the gate.

'Well, Mr Frost, would you do the honours'. Sally was clearly as excited as I was to be back and turned to present me with her arms behind her back.

'Dress on or off?' I asked as we stepped into the shade next to the stall where I'd bought Sally's first monoglove. It was much as I remembered it though I didn't recall the mannequin fitted with a full vilisqaz. I was beginning to understand Salaxis' comments about there being more interest in the city and the burgeoning tourist industry.

'Dress off, of course.' Sally pulled the loose fitting dress over her head to reveal the full glory of her vilisqaz wrapped body.

I stowed the dress in our bag and pulled out the monoglove of her vilisqaz and spent the next few minutes enjoying the familiar task of restraining my lovely wife in full public view; then I leashed her and lead her back into the hot sun.

'I take it you don't need any more suncream?' I had given her a very thorough coating after we had showered together in the hotel. Despite her lovely tan, the sun was very hot here and the straps of the vilisqaz would do little to protect her.

Priya strode towards us looking flustered. 'Bastards! They won't let us in without restraints.'

Sally gave me a secret smile, turning slightly to show Priya her tightly secured arms and I gestured to the stalls selling restraints.

Fortunately, the authorities had graciously agreed to let the film crew go about without leashes though the thought of leading three women in bondage through the streets of the city did have its appeal.

'I need to be restrained,' Priya snapped at the stall holder who gestured to his wares then held up a monoglove similar to the one I'd first bought Sally.

Sally gave me another of her indulgent smiles, her eyes shining with pleasure. I wasn't sure if it was the memory of her first public bondage or Priya's situation, or perhaps even the journalist's choice of words.

'How much?' Priya asked sharply.

The stall holder quoted a ludicrous price

'I'm not paying that much.'

The stall holder gestured to the other stalls across by the gate in the sun

Sally stood beside me, demure as ever, watching as Priya ungraciously bought two pairs of cheap metal handcuffs and we retreated into the shade of the walls as the journalist then held a brief discussion with Kirsty who set up her equipment for Priya to record her first impressions.