Brethren, life in bondage. Book eleven. (Brethren life in bondage 11)

Old school bondage meets with high Tech fetish, in this, the eleventh book in the Brethren series. With a respectful nod to House of Gord and maybe just a touch of Insex, Fb presents a feast of flesh and fetish, purely for your titillation. Practising submissive and hoarder of all things kinky she knows exactly what buttons to push!

Brethren, book eleven
The world has moved on. The stuff of fantasy has become reality but most important of all, there is now absolute truth. Advances in technology mean citizens are no longer able to lie to the law givers. Those dispensing justice can do so without fear of punishing the innocent. Society is no longer prepared to keep or tolerate those who choose to do harm.

And so the Brethren have arisen.

They offer the world another way, a natural justice. They keep the criminals contained and restrained whilst indulging their fetishes and desires. Criminals are presented to the Brethren to live out their days owned and degraded. Within the city's and county's given over to the elite of the Brethren, normality is subjective. Segregated from the rest of society they indulge without prejudice or interference.

Excerpts

(1)
"Even after all this time I find it hard to understand what makes a human being want to be made into a toy? What makes some one want to be reduced to a series of holes, a nothing! Whose sole purpose is to be used and to suffer". The two men sat for a few moments, their attention focused on the grotesque form before them. "It was my clinic that made those breasts, she spent months, either strapped to a gurney or drifting in and out of an anaesthetic haze just to become..... That". He passed the flask back to James once again. "I've made creating monsters my lifetimes work, women willingly put themselves into my hands to be reduced to helpless drooling dolls and much as I like to play with them, deep down I'm still damned if I understand why they do it, as for the men!" The Dr waved his hand and shook his head as if shrugging off some imagined horror. "In short young man, I break and then fix bodies for a living”.
(2)
"She doesn't seem to like you much" said James secretly finding himself agreeing with the bound woman's opinion. Steinmetz gave his off putting smile once again, "not at all!" He smirked, "Poor little piggy is just shy! She finds being displayed like this a little embarrassing but I'm sure she'll loosen up after a few months". At these words the tears that Julia or piggy as Steinmetz insisted on calling her had been just about managing to hold back ran down her cheeks in fat glistening drops.
(3)
The curators moved around the gurney, minutely examining the surface of Anne Monique’s wrappings, smoothing out every last tiny wrinkle. Soaked in the oxygenating gel the bandages clung to each other, holding fast and unmoving. The process reminded James of a limb being plastered but this was so much more than just an arm or leg being held in place until healed. This was a living breathing woman, her whole body being inescapably bound until? Until what? This certainly wasn't healing, this was obliteration. Once her head had been consumed by the steadily encroaching wrapping she would only exist as a memory. Yes, physically she would still be present on this earth, but once her mind began to ebb away and her body become wasted and numb could she still be called a person? Sealed within her sarcophagus, drowned by layer upon layer of bandage, gel and resin she would be just an arm’s reach away but so far from contact with the rest of humanity that she may as well be six foot under.