I knew what she was trying to shout, scream, plead and yell at me; it was her safe word - Mercy! But I had had enough of her nonsense and had her so well gagged nothing came out except muffled unintelligible sounds. Then she started humming her other condition red signal. I grinned at her and said I hear you, now shut up!

I was disgusted with her. I would spend a lot of my time planning a bondage scene very carefully and then get in character for it in black leather skirt, matching tightly belted jacket and my Mistress boots with heels THAT high and then before I was half way finished I got the signal to stop. Now what is the use of having code red signals if you don't immediately react to them? I always had.

Then I would get her unwrapped from whatever position I had been developing and she would start bitching. It was just getting good. I really didn't mean to use the "safe" signal; why didn't you just keep going? I can take it!

This had happened three times in the last month and I was pissed off, frustrated and angry. Angry enough to use my own judgment as to if she was in trouble and angry enough to ignore her damn safe signals. This time I would call the shots. She was like the boy who had cried wolf once too often and I was going to take her to her absolute limit; then beyond.

I had all the equipment and items I needed tucked away in my private closet. Because of her attitude I had never had the chance to use some of them but today that would change.

We had started just as we always did with a boned, leather waist cincher that I pulled particularly tight before knotting the laces. Suspecting nothing she pulled on the pair of shoulder length kid gloves and held her arms out so I could lace them from elbow to armpit.

She hadn't seen the boots before and ooouu'd and arrr'ed that they were beautiful but wouldn't they hurt, then helped me to get her legs into them. They were gleaming black leather, thigh high and heel-less; steel shanks formed the shoe portion into an en pointe ballet configuration. Resting her rear end in a chair we laced them with her pulling on the laces as I squeezed the edges together and it took some time before we were finished. Naturally, within minutes, she started to complain that her feet were feeling very awkward and her insteps were hurting and how long did I expect her to wear them.

I fitted a spreader bar between her ankles and told her to hush we had only just started. Pouting, she held out her gloved hands when I asked her too and let me fold the fingers into fists with the thumb tucked across the palm and work on heavy leather mitts that laced to the wrist.

Before we went any further I knew she was soon going to realize that things were not going as usual so I casually strapped her wrists to the arms of the chair and moved behind her to gather her hair in a ponytail, tying it with a piece of cord that I loosely wrapped around the top bar of the chair back.

Now for the gag! I picked up a short metal rod from the table behind her and held it hidden in my right hand. It was only 1/4" in diameter and had U shaped ends. Without warning I yanked on the cord attached to her ponytail and as her head jerked back she opened her mouth to scream and I quickly fitted a U of the rod over her middle lower tooth, pushed down and then in so the other U slotted over the upper tooth.

When I released my hold her mouth closed just a fraction and, without help, she would not be able to open her jaws far enough to clear the jaw spreader. I tied off the hair cord holding her head back and ran a temporary strap around her upper body and the chair to stop any excess movement while I installed the gag.

It was a masterpiece of design in several pieces that once installed would be very effective and just a tad painful but, then again, I wouldn't feel a thing now would I?

Hard rubber grooved wedges slid in either side of her mouth clamping to her teeth and once they were in