Page 26 of A Gift From James

With the van loaded, our trip began. A stop at the bank provided an enormous windfall in the form of James’ cash.

Then it was off to the train station, where our luggage was taken to our private cars. I made a simple request of our delightful cab driver, which she immediately understood and accepted without hesitation. She was subsequently well tipped, with James’ money course, and I took down her phone number for the return trip. Her name was Angela and I was sure she would be very interested in inspecting James after his visit to the spa and his appointment with Dr. Alice.

Stepping into the private lounge car made me pause for breath. The restored opulence was magnificent. The late nineteenth century car had an open platform in the rear, sizable lounge with cocktail bar, galley and small office with phones and fax.

The connecting sleeper car was more modern. At one end was the master bedroom with shower. Two smaller but spacious bedrooms, which a shared second shower, comprised the opposite end. In the middle was a glass domed observation section, which protruded above the main body of the car. This provided for a panoramic, three hundred and sixty degree view of the countryside and the sky above.

Under the dome were four well-stuffed lounge chairs, designed to provide the occupant with the capability of swiveling in order to observe all passing sights. I was heartened to see thick carpeting on the floor. Obviously intended to absorb the noise of the moving train, it would also provide long term comfort for my kneeling subjugant.

I sent James back to the lounge car suggesting, in a firm manner, that he ensure the Champagne was well iced. This provided me with the opportunity to arrange the master bedroom and tend to the luggage.

I also met with the conductor. The train would be under his control. Therefore, although I had private cars, he had the responsibility and the authority to inspect and tour our facilities.

I showed him our tickets, which included some crisp greenbacks tucked inside the travel pouch.

“We’d very much prefer to be left in privacy,” I suggested with a smile, but with hands placed on hips in a portrait like stance of dominance.

His ‘yes, ma’am’ reply and meek look suggested that he may well be inclined to drop in for reasons other than his professional duties.

But when he returned our tickets, I noticed that the greenbacks had disappeared. Our privacy would be respected unless, of course, I invited him in for a talk...

In one sizable trunk I located the expensive suspension harness I had purchased years before. The lounge appeared to be a likely area for its use and I decided to divert James’ attention by showing him his new restraints.

I returned to the lounge car to find James dutifully preparing the Champagne with, of course, only one glass. Since it dampens the libido, I had denied James all alcohol for weeks and he knew not to even ask for a sip.

With just a nod he poured a glass and I gave the lounge a closer look.

The rear of the lounge car had wonderful fenestration providing the occupants with unimpeded views through oversized windows. In the center of the ceiling, a few feet from the door leading to the observation platform, I noticed some sturdy hooks, apparently at one time used to secure a ceiling fan before the car was refurbished with air conditioning.

How serendipitous. The harness is comprised of wide nylon straps, originally designed for use in bungee cord jumping, with comfortable ankle cuffs sewn to the back of the waist belt and wrist cuffs sewn to the top, rear portion of the shoulder straps.

Modified by a certain kinky San Francisco cobbler with access to heavy duty stitching machines, his thoughtful alterations provided a combination of safety and comfort which is perfect for long term bondage. The harness is ineluctable and with my experience in the psychiatric ward, I used it with enthusiasm for many years before tiring of it.

But for James it will become the perfect traveling restraint device. First the occupant is buckled into the wide waist belt. Then a pair of straps run from the waist belt, circle the inner thighs in the upper area near the groin and back to the waist belt. Then two shoulder straps are buckled up, running from the waist bel

t, crossing the chest, running over the shoulders, crossing the back and attaching to the rear of the waist belt. Then the wrists are drawn behind the back and firmly encased in fur lined cuffs.

The cobbler added extensions to the top of the shoulder straps. These extension straps have large rings at the top from which the harness and the occupant within hang.

In the lounge car, suspending James will be just a matter of having him stand under the ceiling hooks, running cords from the shoulder rings to the ceiling, tightening them to an appropriate level of tension, then lifting one foot into the waiting ankle cuff, then the other.

James will hang. Naked. Completely immobile. Perhaps blindfolded.

I can feel my arousal visualizing the train flashing through the small dairy towns of Wisconsin with the blinds drawn up, providing the unsuspecting inhabitants with delightfully lewd glimpses of my subservient plaything. And a nice inflatable butt plug will add an element of spice and serve to remind him of his role by keeping him nicely erect for the journey to the spa.

My watch indicates it is just after 1:00 p.m.

“Well, James...your journey has begun,” I think to myself, as I lift my glass and sip, looking directly into those beseeching eyes. He silently looks down to my boots in well-ingrained obeisance. Then his eyes move with trepidation to the harness.

James

The private cars are beautifully arranged. I am so happy that D can enjoy herself and my fortunate monetary circumstances.

After serving her Champagne, she selects a video tape from a collection she has brought from her apartment. My role is to stand to her side and replenish her glass as she enjoys a rather well produced ‘X rated’ movie. She doesn’t speak. She just occasionally extends her glass and I humbly pour.

The large windows in the lounge area provide a view of the busy station platform. Most people just scurry by, but others pause to look in, the exterior of the car being most decoratively painted and its nineteenth century design being quite the attraction.

D just calmly sits in the stuffed chair and continues watching. The curious onlookers do not know that she’s viewing a most decadent scene from a rather avant-garde Greek film involving pony play, with a pair of naked muscular males straining to pull a heavy cart under the whip of a female Goddess.

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