Return to Mirkada

Chapter 4: Filming

Briga lead us first to the 'old quarter'. This was the poorer part of Mirkada where the streets were narrow and twisting, buildings almost touching above our heads. We had strolled through the area briefly on our first visit enjoying the surprises of hidden facades and alleyways disappearing into cool blackness.

The men here all wore traditional robes and the women were in the typical strap like garments of the city, leather belts and thongs wound about their bodies and limbs, all the women were, of course restrained, most simply with their wrists tied behind their backs or pinned in simple leather cuffs; the garments were, Briga told us, originally more adornments than clothing, in a time when there was little, a scrap of leather, perhaps supporting a shiny stone, tied around a neck or wrist was all that could be afforded; as time went on, more straps were added; Mirkada was, he reminded us, a place where women were seen as things of beauty to be displayed; women traditionally did not work but were waited on by their men, adored, respected.

Priya scoffed slightly as he concluded his explanation, surely, she countered, not for the first time, being kept in bondage was a sign of subjugation.

Briga shrugged and smiled. 'Why don't we find out?

The servants set up Kirsty's gear on the edge of a small market square, the stalls looked similar to the ones by the gate through which we entered the city but on closer inspection were less well appointed, the fruit less perfect. It was mid morning and the market was full, a press of bodies, mostly women out alone but there were some clearly in the company of men; most such women were not leashed though a few were, these mostly wore monogloves, they wore nipple jewellery too and, I thought the men were better dressed than most of the others; Briga subsequently confirmed my suspicion that this was the Mirkadian equivalent of middle class aspiration, couples too poor to afford a proper vilisqaz.

We watched a woman buying peaches from a merchant who cut a slice from one, holding to her mouth to allow her to taste it, she smiled, taking the fruit and enjoying its flavour, she ordered six and the merchant picked them for her under her direction, depositing them in her bag, then he took a pouch from around her neck and extracted the money for them.

She thanked him and left.

Kirsty, overseeing her new camera crew, captured this on film.

In the centre of the square was a fountain and, as the women who had bought the peaches reached it she stopped; a man there filled a cup for her and held it to her lips allowing her to drink.

'If only men in Cambridge were so considerate.' Sally nudged me with her shoulder.

Through Briga we stopped a women in traditional dress: straps around her shoulders and belly, and entwined down her legs; her breasts and sex were completely bare; her arms were laced behind her back by more leather straps. A bag of produce hung at her hip and, like the women we had filmed before she carried a purse slung around her neck.

Through Briga, Priya asked what she thought about having to shop with her arms bound.

The women seemed somewhat surprised by the question but then smiled, tossing her straw-coloured hair from her face. She shrugged telling Briga that it was how they did things in Mirkada.

Wouldn't she prefer to go about unfettered?

She thought it might have its advantages but what would she do with her arms the rest of the time, besides; she smiled broadly, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously; what mischief would the men of Mirkada get up to if they didn't have to spend their time looking after their women?

*

Moving back towards one of the main avenues of the city we encountered three in women full vilisqaz other than the bridle. They spoke good English and Priya was able to conduct her interview without the help of Briga.

'It can be a nuisance,' one admitted.

'No. I don't like to be bound at home,' responded another.

'Do you not dress for the pleasure of your men?' The third looked at Priya searchingly; at her pretty face and slim body in the tight little linen dress; at her bare legs, tapering thighs and the gentle swell of her calfs in the heels.

'Perhaps I dress for myself,' Priya responded with just the right amount of challenge.

My opinion of her rose again.

The third woman nodded, thinking about Priya's comment. 'But it is nice to feel sexy to have others look at you and enjoy what they see.'

'It is the woman who is sexy, not the clothing,' the second woman corrected. 'Though clothing can draw the eye allowing a woman to express herself more fully.

'It gives confidence too,' the first woman added.

The woman's companions were right. It was the woman who was sexy though short skirts and high heels in our culture drew the male's eye it was the woman herself that kept his attention.

I remembered one of the first times I'd had sex with Sally; we'd been punting on the Cam and she was wearing a lovely long summer dress; she looked so beautiful so self assured; I'd seen her in short skirts and even a delightfully skimpy bikini; I'd even seen her naked but spending time with her on that day made me want so much to be part of her life.

When we got home and started kissing, she'd tried to take the dress off but I wouldn't let her.

It wasn't the dress, of course, it was her, though I remembered it vividly.

Fucking her in that dress had been one of the most memorable events of my life up to that point. I was pretty much lost then but the discovery that she hadn't been wearing anything underneath it was probably the final wound that slayed the bachelor within me.

She still has the dress and in the summer still wears it though these days that is mostly in our garden as it's getting a little thin in places.

She still doesn't wear anything underneath it.

*

We adjourned for lunch in a small cafe in a little square behind the governor's residence. I could just see the tops of palm trees in the garden behind the high wall.

It was here that we had encountered another slight problem.

Sally knelt easily at the table beside me and Kirsty joined her. Priya, on the other hand was not happy and, though persuaded eventually to kneel, she was not willing to accept food from the hand of another, let alone a male oppressor.

Kirsty, thus, thoroughly enjoyed Birga's undivided attention although, there was a part of me that wanted to see her bend to the low table and eat with her mouth just as she had lapped at the water in the police cell.

There was little doubt that my interest in bondage and submission had developed over the previous two years but I'd always been excited by the concept of bondage as, I think, are most men; I particularly liked bondage art: John Wylie, Eric Stanton and, of course, Robert Bishop; I think it was the predicament aspect of these that particularly appealed and, of course, the tight clothing the girls in their pictures often wore. At some point in our relationship, Sally had confessed to an interest in it too and even admitted to tying herself up in her room when an undergrad student; she even did it while we were dating. We had thus experimented, mostly with me tying her, but it had not been very successful, which I thought this was probably related to the confrontation of fantasy by reality. It was these fantasies that, of course, had lead us to choose Mirkada as a holiday destination even though we had not expressed it particularly openly.

The rest, as they say, is history, modern history at least; two years of BDSM pleasure that had strengthened our relationship further; a relationship in which Sally was usually the submissive and thus, probably rightly, usually set the boundaries. She tied me occasionally but mostly it was her helpless in bondage, sometimes chained, often gagged and usually blindfolded too. After Mirkada she had a thirst for taking her submission outside leading to those late night walks we enjoyed. I suppose the fear of discovery is all part of the thrill in these situations and I think Sally enjoys the potential for humiliation, hence the incident with the vice chancellor. This aspect of her fantasies excites me too.

*

'No, I do not think the law is oppressive to women.'

We had just emerged from the cafe and were speaking to a man in a suit to rival Briga's who was taking coffee at one of the outside tables. He was, Briga had told us, a member of the ruling council and, clearly, a man of great wealth. His wife, considerably younger than him, knelt beside him on a cushion. She was dressed in a sparkling gold vilisqaz with narrow straps and gold pendants hung from her nipples. The buckles and fittings too were gold. Unlike her husband who sat in the shade of a large parasol, the women knelt in the full heat of the early afternoon sun, her skin glistening with sweat and he skin flushed. I noticed she was panting round the large ball gag that filled her mouth.

The servants were proving very adept at handling Kirsty's equipment and seemed only too willing to please the buxom little brunette who rewarded them with smiles and, I noticed, the occasional flash of her cleavage or bottom. One of their colleagues held a parasol over the lingerie-clad camerawoman as she worked giving her the appearance of a woman in a saucy Edwardian postcard.

Sally and I were thus somewhat redundant and stood back listening as Priya conducted her interview.

Did he think women should be allowed to work?

'No, not when they can get their husbands to do it and relax or go out with friends all day.'

He might go as far as to suggest it was the men who were getting a raw deal.

His wife continued to kneel beside him with her head slightly bowed.

'I know some women are starting to work. That is their choice and, I suppose.' He shrugged. 'If their families need the income then it is important they are allowed to but Mirkada has arrangements to support its poorest citizens.'

But surely, hampering their movements and preventing them doing certain jobs was backward.

'No, our city is not backward. My wife carries a mobile phone, a Samsung, the latest model.' He lifted a small pouch hanging from a belt around her waist, pulling her hips forward slightly as he did so.

She might have one, but they were by no means the norm in Mirkada. The 'vilisqazed elite' might carry them as did most tourists but here they were a luxury item.

'As you can see, she shaves herself too.'

The woman had no pubic hair and the absence of a crotch strap on her vilisqaz did nothing to hide this. I had noticed this on a number of women in the vilisqaz; baring the sex as well as the breasts was common among the less well off women but most of the vilisqaz I had seen on my previous visit were fitted with a crotch strap.

I wondered briefly whether she had a dildo inside her and, if so, how she kept it in place.

'Perhaps she has strong pelvic muscles.' Sally whispered in my ear, clearly following the same train of thought.

Sadly, Priya did not ask this.

'We Skype our daughter in London regularly.'

Will she return? When she does will you make her walk the streets dressed like this?

'Yes, she comes back sometimes for a holiday. She will dress as my wife dresses. There is only one reason for a woman to dress and that is to attract a rich husband and whether she does that by wearing a short skirt and stilettos in London or a vilisqaz in Mirkada does not matter.'

Would her marriage be arranged?

'No, we do not believe in that here.' He smiled flashing gold teeth. 'But he will have to be rich.' The man lifted one of his wife's nipple pendants. 'Twenty four carat gold! Four thousand dollars US a piece.'

What did he think of the rise in tourism?

'It is good for Mirkada's economy.' Again he smiled. 'But I know why they come.'

He winked and patted his wife's head then wiped her sweat from his hand with his napkin.

Did Mirkada really want to be a destination for sex tourism?

'It is all money to our economy.'

I looked at Briga as the councillor said this and saw him frown and shake his head.

'I must go.' The councillor stood giving a short tug on his wife's leash and she rose obediently then he lead her away, helpless and silent, tottering on the huge toe boots strapped to her feet. I couldn't be certain that she wore a dildo but it was clear that she was wearing a butt plug; it was clipped to a ring that dangled between her buttocks from the waist belt of her vilisqaz.

I felt Priya had probably got the answers she wanted from this interview.

*

We were nearly finished for the night and heading back to the hotel when we encountered a group of girls in their twenties who were on a the Mirkadian equivalent of a hen night; an event which appeared to run along similar lines to anywhere else in the world. They were 'dolled up' for want of a better expression: make up and false eyelashes, their hair piled in their heads in latest Mirkadian fashion and decorated with jewels; they were unaccompanied too, by a male companion at least, and therefore not blindfolded or gagged though they were all restrained. The prospective bride was, not unsurprisingly, fully restrained, lips drawn back round a what was clearly a plug gag and blindfolded and, I knew immediately from the way she stood, was fully plugged and from the way she moved her hips was thoroughly enjoying the experience. The girls were more than happy to play to the camera, perhaps enjoying too the opportunity to strut their stuff and show off their nubile and deliciously restrained young bodies.

They were off to Mirkada's newly opened night club.

Would they prefer to be freer to enjoy themselves more fully?

They shrugged. 'Perhaps. Well...' They laughed. 'Amanara might be.' The one holding the bride's leash pulled her forward and the helpless girl staggered slightly on her toe boots, gasping slightly around her gag. Between the straps crossing her chest and those of her bridle it was clear her skin was flushed and her nipples poking through the cones of leather strapped round her breasts were stiffly erect.

'But at least like this we can be sure to keep her out of trouble.' The girl holding the bride's leash was, of course restrained, her wrists cuffed to her waist, but she did have her fingers free. 'And if she doesn't behave, I've got this.' The girl opened her hand and show what was clearly a the remote for the bride's vibrator.

'You'll turn it on to punish her?' Priya asked a little confused.

'No!' The girl laughed. 'I'll turn it off.'

'We've got a nipple leash too incase she really misbehaves,' another added.

Like the other girls the bride wore nipple pendants but hers were black and hung from toothed clamps more in keeping with something from an S&M shop than a jeweller's.

They all seemed to have a relatively fluent grasp of English which they spoke with a lilting accent that was common in the city.

'And a switch.' Another girl had her fingers free too and held a short length of stiff leather

I saw Priya's eyes widen in surprise.

Weren't they worried that someone would take advantage of them?

The girls laughed even more loudly.

'Take advantage?'

Well, not in the sense Priya meant but those who were single would be hoping to take advantage of some of the boys in the club to buy them drinks.

'Not boys!' One corrected. 'Men!' She pushed her hips forward in a very suggestive manner and the girls all laughed. Like the rich man's wife, she wore no crotch strap and her sex was shaved.

'Full advantage!'

A number of them flashed bare breasts or, at the very least deep cleavages at us. None of them had their nipples concealed.

'But being treated like this...?' Priya wasn't giving up. 'Being kept in bondage.'

'Oh,that.' The girl who spoke up at this point had an American accent. She was dark haired, pretty, clearly educated. 'Perhaps we like it.' She gave a saucy wink. 'I came here for a year while I was a college student and I met someone so I came back afterwards.'

She'd married a native and been living in the city for three years.

Was it the bondage that attracted her?

She laughed. 'Yes, of course.'

Did she stay restrained for sex?

'Sometimes, but my husband also likes to feel my hands on his body.'

They dissolved into fits of laughter even the bride, thought it was hard to tell; she might have been climaxing.

'This isn't repression, it's freedom,' the girl continued earnestly. 'Where else in the world can I walk down the main street flashing my pussy and not get arrested or picked up by some pervert? When I walk down the street here men step aside for me, they open doors, bring me a cushion to kneel on while I'm waiting in line.'

And what did their husbands think of them being out like this?

'They didn't get a lot of choice.'

Won't they be upset?

'One or two of us might be spanked but we will probably deserve it and we'll certainly enjoy it.'

The girls continued to laugh and flirt, especially with Briga, for a few minutes and then, bidding us good night teetered off across the square swinging their hips and leading Amanara towards what was probably destined to be a long but fulfilling evening of well intentioned humiliation, gratifying sexual torment and, probably, multiple climaxes for the young bride.

*

Briga returned us to the hotel, shaking my hand and kissing each of the girls on the cheeks. All three of them seemed to have been flirting with him for most of the day; something I planned to remind Sally about when we got back to the room.

He told us he would be waiting in the main square for us the next morning when we planned to film around the city.

As we entered the foyer, Priya sighed deeply and smiled, rubbing her wrists as the doorman freed them. Released from bondage, she became quite animated, pleased clearly with the day's filming.

She and Kirsty soon adjourned to their room to review the day's takes and prepare for the morning which left Sally and I to enjoy a quiet drink in the bar.

'They're an item you know,' Sally informed me, kneeling demurely in the bar still restrained. Though the air had cooled in the late afternoon it was still hot outside and her face was red from the heat and sun, her girdle was damp too.

I must have looked puzzled.

'Priya and your pert little admirer.' Sally leant forward and took a sip of her gin through the straw provided.

'No!' I was surprised.

'Oh yes.' Sally grinned, enjoying the gossip. 'Well, it's a bit on and off I understand but they've certainly had a few flings in the last year.'

'It doesn't show.' As I spoke I remembered my first impressions, Kirsty's glances at the rather aloof Priya.

'I know. Kirsty says's they've had a bit of a fall out over this job. It was Kirsty who accepted the commission; a travel documentary in a foreign city; it seemed right up her street. She decided not to tell Priya about it until she'd done some research.'

'Trying to impress the boss?'

'Something like that.' Sally smiled. 'Anyway, when she had done her research she realised it was even more up her street than she had imagined.'

I mentally added kinky to my confirmed list of Kirsty's assets. 'And Priya isn't into this kind of stuff?'

'Oh they've dabbled.' Sally had clearly mined Kirsty for this information quite thoroughly or perhaps Kirsty had just enjoyed telling her; the brunette was certainly very talkative.

'Really?' I tried not to appear too interested.

'Up until now Kirsty's always been on the bottom...'

I tried very hard not to think if Kirsty crouching on all fours while a very strict looking Priya took a crop to her lovely round bottom, I failed miserably and felt my cock stiffen.

'Though it's obvious Kirsty would like to do it a bit more often and be the one of top.'