Tags: Spandex, Latex, High Heels, Corset, Catsuit,
Karen had come to that small village about 5 years earlier. She was hoping that nobody would ask her too many questions, which was what happened. Her way of dress, her way of life was kept down.
What was so special? She was always wearing tight fitting clothes, gloves, long sleeved and high collar shirts, even in the midst of summer, along with high heels, no less than four inches.
Her waist appeared stiff and constricted. But although her look was rather sexy, she was never seen dragging men, either single or married. She wasn’t lesbian either.
Yes, she could be seen at bars, she was friendly, but nothing more. She gained the respect of the women of the village because she showed that she wasn’t some kind of hooker, and the respect of men because she wasn’t sleeping with everybody. She wanted peace, she got peace.
She had money, but she wanted to do something else than stay at home every day, so she found a part time job at the local flower shop. Her face was soft and delicate. Her long brown buckled hairs were floating on her shoulders. She was always smiling, that angel smile that small town people like.
Every time someone would ask her about her past and the way she dresses, she would always answer that she didn’t want to talk about it.
A few months after she arrived, the gossip of the village, “Miss Shaw” came out with an explanation. After some research, she was able to “find” where Karen came from and according to her so called researched, Karen had been the victim of a vicious crime where a lunatic set her house on fire. Both her parents and her brother died, and she was badly burned.
Still according to her “research”, the burns she suffered forced her to wear tight clothes and forced her to be constricted in a medical corset, and her feet would not accept any other footwear than one with a raised heel. The fact that Karen was always covering her body from the neck down was to hide the hideous scars left by the fire.
Karen never denied the story, not did she confirm it, but it was enough for the village people to feel sorry for her. So they let her go her way without passing comments about her dressing habits, which to their dismay was attracting much attention from the men. But to the satisfaction of the wives, she never wanted any men too close to her. She didn’t have a boyfriend, and it looked like she didn’t want one either. Or a girlfriend for that matter.
One day, she was coming back from work, on foot, as her house was merely a mile away and she liked to walk. Her heels were clicking on the concrete sidewalk. She was rocking her body from side to side to walk as her jeans were so tight that the seams seemed ready to give up, and her torso, held rigid by the medical corset was contributing to her all erect position. Her top was a long sleeve, high neck dark blue spandex shirt. Her hands were covered with fine leather gloves, the lines of which could be seen under the tight spandex sleeves, to go all the way up to the shoulders.
She was smiling. She seemed to enjoy life.
Along the street, a few neighbors waved at her. She did the same.
Once at her home, there was a car that belonged to a stranger. A tall woman was waiting at the door of the house. She was wearing a strict skirt and a jacket. She looked like a lawyer. Karen walked to her.
“May I help you, miss?”
“My name is Lynda, and I worked for the Daily Post. You must be Karen, I presume?”
“Yes I am. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I heard about your story, and from what I see, it’s pretty much the truth. I would like to make an article on you. Being badly burned, and forced to live like… that,” she said pointing at Karen’s tight clothes “would, I’m sure, be a source of inspiration to all the burned victims.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. The entire village knows that, and the entire village respects that. Can’t you do the same?”
“I’m sure it’s painful to remember all the suffering you had, but I really think that your story would inspire a lot of people. Unless it’s all false, only a made up story so that you could go around with your fetishes, and, instead of being treated as a freak, you are felt sorry for.”
Karen’s eyes became dark.
“I’m going to say to you the same thing I said to everybody else: I don’t want to talk about it. Isn’t that clear enough?” she said, unlocking the door, getting into the house and closing the door behind her, leaving the journalist outside.”
“You could at least offer me a coffee.”
The door opened.
“That I can, if you don’t ask any questions about me.”
“You win. Don’t worry, I’m not that kind of reporter.”
Karen let her in and gave her the coffee. The discussion was pretty dry, as Karen would not tell anything about herself or her family. Not even confirmed her name. The house was well decorated, but was lacking any family portraits. Like if she didn’t have any family.
When the journalist brought up that point, Karen had enough.
“I said that I wouldn’t talk about me or my family. You had your coffee, now get lost.” She said, getting up and opening the door.
“I’m gonna go to the bottom of this.”
“If it suits you…” said Karen, slamming the door shut.
She verified that she was really gone and relaxed on the sofa. She slightly opened her legs, as much as the tight jeans allowed it, and she gently rubbed her crotch. She moaned.
After a few moments, she got up and did some house chores before heading for the bathroom for a shower. There she removed her high heels shoes, but stayed on her tiptoes, as if she just couldn’t lay her feet flat on the ground. Then she removed her tight jeans, revealing that her spandex shirt was in fact a complete catsuit. She removed the gloves only to reveal that the blue spandex catsuit also had attached gloves and feet.
She reached for the back zipper and proceeded to remove the suit. Underneath, she had another layer, another catsuit, of shiny black rubber, again, with attached gloves and feet. She reached again for the back zipper. This time, she was naked, except for a high and very tight rubber corset, wrapping her from the hips to her shoulders. Carefully, she undid the lacing, revealing a perfect body with baby smooth skin.
No scars, and no traces of burns whatsoever. She took a long hot shower, and after drying up, she slipped into a white PVC catsuit that had attached gloves and feet, put 5 inches heels pumps and returned to the living room where she sat to watch some TV.
The doorbell rang. It was that journalist again.
“I said to go away.”
“I think I have something we should talk about.” She said, producing a camcorder. She flipped the small monitor toward the peeping hole and pressed the playback button. It had been taped from Karen’s bathroom window. She could see herself getting undressed, revealing her fetish outfits and her perfect skin.
“So what?” asked Karen, defiantly.
“I think we could negotiate.” Answered the journalist with an arrogant smile.
Karen let out a sigh and opened the door. The journalist didn’t seem at all disturbed by seeing Karen in her white PVC suit. After all, she had probably taped her redressing anyway. Karen invited her to sit on the sofa. She was harsh.
“What do you want?”
“Well, to be honest, I don’t work for the Daily Post, but I wish I would. That story would give me that job. That job would pay me an average of $150000/year for about 30 years, which would make around 4.5 millions. I know your father is disgustingly rich, and since my sources told me that he’s paying for everything I see, I’m pretty sure he cares about his little jewel. I would settle for a one time payment of, oh lets say, 5 millions”
Karen almost choked
“You really think my father would give you that amount of money for that video”
“Well, you deceived a whole population. His name is going to be affected.”
“I need a drink.” Said Karen, getting up.
“I’ll take a martini thank you.”
Karen looked at her with a grin. She made the journalist a martini and poured herself a scotch.
“So, what would it be?” asked arrogantly the journalist as Karen was handing her the drink.
“I’ll have to call my father first.”
“I drink to that” she said, taking a good sip of her drink. “Take your time, I’m in no hurry to leave.” She said, while taking another sip.
Karen walked to the phone and dialed a number.
“Hello dad. What should I do?”
“Hey! How come you don’t have to explain to him…”
Karen pointed at small cameras hidden in the corner ceiling of the room.
“What you… you… Shit! You drugged me.” She said, before collapsing on the ground.
“Okay dad. Thank you. Love you.” Said Karen before hanging the phone. She approached the sleeping journalist, stopping her high heel shoes merely touching her.
“You wanted a piece of my life? You’re gonna get it.”
Lynda woke up, feeling dizzy and nauseating. She felt uncomfortable, her mouth full. Her vision was blurred, but it was getting clearer. There was a shape in front of her. She tried to talk, but a large ball gag prevented anything else but a mumbling to get out. When her vision cleared, she realized that she was looking at herself from a wall mirror. She was completely naked, tied up to a X shaped frame. A red hard ball held in place by a leather strap packed her mouth. She was hanging one foot off the floor.
She tried to get free, but many leather straps held her firmly in place. A door opened behind her and Karen appeared, wearing a tight red leather catsuit, matching kid leather thigh high boots with a five inches heel. She also had a red patent leather waist cincher.
“Welcome back Lynda. Trying to blackmail me was a very bad idea.”
Lynda mumbled and struggled to get free, but nothing gave up.
“Store your energy. You’re gonna need it. But first, let me tell you a little story. When I was a teenager, I used to run away from home quite often. But I always ran back to the comfort of home within a week. One day, when I was 16, I ran away one more time, but this time, after a week, I haven’t returned, and haven’t given any sign. My father went to the police, but with my history of running off, they took it lightly and didn’t do real research about my disappearance.
One week later, so two weeks after I was gone, my father received a letter. The truth was that I had been kidnapped the day after I ran away. The kidnapper had sent the letter, but forgot to put a stamp on it, so it took a few days for the letter to get back, then another to reach my father. The kidnapper was asking for 10 millions. Of course my father ran to the police. It took them two more weeks to find me and free me. The kidnapper finally committed suicide when the police arrived. His plan was to kill me in the process, but his device failed, and I survived, but with psychological sequels.
You see, that guy was a perverted maniac. During those four weeks, I was held strictly bound and gagged, forced to wear all kinds of fetishist outfits, from leather to latex, while I was constantly sexually stimulated.
One year of therapy did nothing. I had to wear tight clothes and corsets to feel tied up, and I had to wear fetish clothes. As for my feet, the kidnapper had surgically altered them so I couldn’t wear anything but high heels, even after I would be released. And he was right, because the procedure can’t be reversed.
My father thought that by sending me out of the big city, I would perhaps cure myself, but he didn’t want to attract any attention. You follow me so far?”
Lynda mumbled and tried again to get free.
“I’m not through. I never told anyone in this town my real name. I never told them any story about having been burned. Town gossip came up with that story. I never denied it, nor confirmed it, but THEY chose to believe it. Since it was suiting me, I added nothing. Each time someone asked me about it, I simply said that I didn’t want to talk about it. So you see, I’m not deceiving them, they are doing it themselves to themselves.
And now, because you tried to blackmail me for your own little self, you’re gonna share my life. Right now, someone is taking care of your car. You will simply disappear for a few weeks and when you’ll get back to your life, you will be just like me. Shall we start? Now, I must tell you that, like my kidnapper, if you don’t behave, I’m gonna drug you. As a… friend, I’m telling you to behave. You’re gonna find it much more fun that way.”
She began by taking two huge vibrating dildos from a wooden box, and showed them to the bound journalist before applying a large amount of lubricant. Lynda tried to move away, but Karen forced the two dildos in place before turning them on. Lynda twitched, pulling on her bonds as the dildos started to work. Lynda smiled. The transformation had begun.
She left her there for about two hours. After that, Lynda was too exhausted to fight. As the dildos were continuing their job, she gently untied her left leg, removing the ankle, knee and upper thigh straps. Lynda didn’t fight. She was in trance.
Gently, Karen began to wrap plastic wrap on her leg, making sure it was smooth and very tight. She made three passes along her leg, tied it back in place and did the same with the right leg. Getting on a platform, she wrapped each arm with the same procedure. When it was done, she linked the legs with a spreading bar, and the same thing with the wrists, attaching the last spreader bar to a chain from the ceiling. She untied Lynda’s torso from the X frame, and operating the ceiling winch, lowered her on the ground, tying the central ring of the ankle spreader bar to the floor.
She proceeded to wrap her torso with the plastic wrap. Again, three layers. She took care to contour the wires powering the dildos. Then she carefully wrapped the head, leaving a hole around the nose for breathing.
Then she produced a case of “vet wrap”, an elastic sticky bandage, and started to wrap all over again. Lynda was so much within her multiple orgasms that she simply didn’t care. She wanted more, and although she wasn’t realizing it, the wrapping stimulated her. She was wrapped completely, including the head, except a small patch at the back of the ankle, close to the heel.
By this time, Lynda was pretty much knocked out. Karen removed the ankle spreader bar and raised her with the winch until just her toes were touching the ground. She took a steel plate that had the form of a high heel sole. A large bracket shaped as an L acted as the heel, as if it was a wedge platform. She took a few pieces of vet wrap to secure the sole to Lynda’s foot. Then she took fiberglass casting bandages and applied it on her feet, shaping it to the high heel form. She wrapped the bandages up her legs, up to her thighs. When both legs were done, Lynda was wearing bright blue, five inches heels, fiberglass boots. The spreader bar was put again between her fiberglass coated ankles, and she was lifted off the ground until her ankles were at Karen’s eye level when sitting on a stool, then each end of the spreader bar was secured with a chain to D rings on the floor.
By this time, Lynda had passed out, totally exhausted. Karen injected a local anesthetic to each ankle, by the one-inch hole at the back of each foot. She waited a few minutes, then took a laser and proceeded. Thirty minutes later, when she was all done, Lynda’s heel tendons were smaller, and she would not be able to wear anything less than four inches heels. Ever.
Fiberglass bandages were applied to cover the operation site. She was lowered on the ground and put on a wheeled table. Karen rolled her to her “room”. She carefully set her on the bed, turned her on her stomach, grabbed her arms and linked them with more vet wrap on her back. She began by wrapping the wrists then the elbows which she made touch each other. Then, starting at the hands, she wrapped everything together, engulfing Lynda’s arms into a single glove from fingertips to shoulders. The dildos were plugged back. She left the room and locked the door.
The room was in the basement, and there was no way out, and that was assuming that, in the situation she was, Lynda would be able to break free.
She felt her feet ache. Shit, her whole body was aching. She opened her eyes, but saw black. She remembered some of what happened. She was wrapped in some kind of elastic sticky bandages. But her legs? Why were they so heavy? And why couldn’t she bend them? She tried to sit, but with her arms pinned in her back, she just couldn’t. She tried to roll, and quickly fell off the bed with a soft thump. There was something soft that broke her fall, as if it had been expected.
Her bladder woke up. She had to go, but at the same time was also feeling the presence of the two huge dildos plugging her up.
She felt a presence. Someone was touching her. The bandages over her eyes was removed, and she came face to face with Karen. She was wearing a golden bronze latex suit, and over it, a bright yellow satin corset.
“Hello Miss the Journalist. How are we today?”
Lynda began to struggle and tried to talk but it resulted in nothing. Without a word, Karen took her by the arms and jerked her up. She backed her to the wall. At that moment, Lynda realized that her legs were surprisingly stiff, and that she appeared to be walking on her toes. She was once again facing a large mirror. She could see how she was wrapped, and her fiberglass cast legs. She protested, but Karen didn’t bulge.
She firmly pressed her against the wall, tying a wide leather strap around her neck and waist, pinning her to the wall. Her legs were spread about two feet and strapped to the wall. Karen carefully cut with scissors the bandages in the crotch area and removed the plastic wrap. Cum was dripping.
“Humm.. Looks like you had quite a ball last night.” She said, then she removed the dildos, much to Lynda’s relief. A stainless bowl was raised up to her crotch.
“There. You can let it go.”
Lynda didn’t wait. She let it go, filling the bowl with her waste.
Karen took the bowl away, carefully cleaned Lynda, before reinserting the dildos, much to Lynda’s dismay, before putting back some plastic and tape, sealing back everything. She attached a heavy belt around Lynda’s waist.
“This is a battery pack. It has enough power for 10 hours, at full power. But I’m not about to do that. Instead, I would set them to random. Much more excruciating. The whole basement is your new home for now. Explore it at will. I advise you not to try to escape. Just note: I haven’t punished you yet.”
Karen then untied her from the wall. She made a few steps. Her stiff legs, and the position of her feet were awkward, but the legs had been bent just enough to balance the center of gravity. Within a few steps, she appeared okay.
“Sorry about the cast, but it was necessary. I did to you basically the same surgical procedure that was done on me, except yours was done much more nicely. I have to keep your feet in a cast for 3 days. Yes, just the feet would have been enough, but why not have some fun by making fiberglass boots? See you in a few hours for lunch.”
With that she left. Lynda heard her getting upstairs, closing the door and locking it. She could follow and try to force the door, but with her legs like that, walking up stairs was impossible, and that was without mentioning her bound arms. She decided she had to make the best of it, which was trying to learn her surroundings and planning her escape.
As she began to walk, the dildos fired. She would have dropped on her knees, but with the cast, she jogged sideways until she reached the wall and leaned against it. The dildos were moving and massaging her. And she liked it. She turned to lean her back against the wall and slowly rock her hips back and forth. The pleasure came quickly. Just a little too soon, the dildos stopped. She stayed there, panting, wishing there was more.
Reality kicked back in when she tried to let herself glide to the floor. She couldn’t. She resumed her search. She walked around. It was difficult, but after a few minutes, she pretty much got the hang of it. There was not much escape possible. The basement was deep, about 10 feet, and the walls were made of concrete. There were two windows, but each one too high for her to reach, and even if she could, the windows were frosted, and huge metal bars were preventing anyone passing through. Although they were theft protection devices, there to prevent anyone getting in the house, they were screwed in, and she didn’t have any screwdriver, nor any hand for that matter. But she had a plan.
The tour of the basement wasn’t long, but she was exhausted nonetheless. She walked back to her room, and let herself fall on the bed. That was the only place she could lean, since she simply couldn’t sit.
The dildos fired again, sending her to heaven. This time, they kept running after she had an orgasm, which was quite stimulating, especially since they stopped as she was getting the second one. Very frustrating. She began to hate that random setting.
She couldn’t tell how much time had passed when Karen returned. She was carrying a large tray that could be installed on a bed. She helped Lynda sit upright, leaning against the head of the bed, and put the tray over her legs, then asking her to bend forward, she unwrapped her joined arms, leaving them individually wrapped. Her hands were wrapped in a mitten style, with only her thumbs free, yet wrapped. Once in front of her, she linked them with steel handcuffs with a six inches chain.
Then she removed the gag, much to Lynda’s relief.
“Gee. That thing hurt in the long run.”
“Yes, I know.” Answered calmly but firmly Karen. “Better not waste time talking and better eat.” She said presenting a plastic fork.
Lynda was hungry indeed. As she began to eat, the dildos fired again. She screamed.
“Turn these off.”
“Nope.” Was the only answer.
“Please…” she asked, with doggy eyes.
“Nope.” Answered Karen, staying of ice. “Better eat, I give you 10 more minutes.”
She ate as best as she could with her wrapped and cuffed hands. She was almost sobbing. Karen didn’t waste any time. As soon as her plate was empty, she replaced the gag. Lynda grumbled.
“Shut up. I have to go out for a few hours. I’ll see for the next step in your training when I’ll be back. In the meantime I suggest you relax, ’cause you’re gonna need all the energy you can get.”
Without adding a word, she left, locking the basement door behind her. Lynda heard the car drive off, and then she kicked into action. She got up and hobbled to the stairs. She had time. If she could get upstairs, break the door and get out, she would be okay.
It was a struggle, but she managed. One step at a time, taking a hold with both hands on the same handrails. It took her close to an hour to climb the 20 or so steps. Surprisingly, her cast legs gave her support to bang on the door. After the 8th try, the lock gave up and the door swung open. She climbed the last step and she was out of the basement. Just a few steps from liberty. That was before Karen appeared in front of her.
“Do you really think I would let you alone that long not restrained more than that? I wanted to test you, how I could trust you. I see that I can’t, so I’ll fix you up properly.”
With that, before Lynda had time to react, Karen produced a shock gun and zapped her. Karen catches her before she hits the ground, unconscious.
Lynda woke up aching from everywhere, especially the shoulder where the electric discharge had hit her. She wanted to rub her shoulder, but nothing moved. She was tied up, but it felt strange. Her blurred vision got clearer and she realized that she was in fact standing up again, tied to the wall, facing the mirror.
She was right when she said it felt weird. She was in a total body cast. Everything was covered with fiberglass bandages, and her waist appeared very much compressed. She had to breathe in short gasps. Even her face was covered with fiberglass bandages, except for two holes for the eyes, and two tubes coming out of her mouth. Her mouth felt full, and she had difficulties swallowing. Something was running down her throat. Karen entered.
“Hello there. Nice of you to stay.” She said, sarcastically. “Since you didn’t seem to be ready to behave, and that I needed you to stay calm for another three days, the time needed for your tendons to heal, I had to resort to this extreme. As you probably figured out by now, you’re in a fiberglass body cast. The tubes in your throat are for breathing and feeding. I’ll be feeding you your normal food, which went through the blender first.
You probably feel it, but your dildos have been replaced. These are a little bit bigger because they are hollow, allowing the passage of more tubing so you can get… cleaned up. Enemas. Ever heard of that? Now you’re gonna get it.”
Lynda tried to speak, but she couldn’t. Not a word was getting out. Not much of a sound either.
“Oh, I was forgetting. Since you have nothing to do, I’ve decided to let these new dildos run all time. You’ll see, they’re quite fantastic.” She said as she reached at Lynda’s crotch and flipped the switch. Lynda twitched, but only her eyes conveyed her feelings.
“You’ve probably noticed by now that I’ve added electrodes, both in the dildos, and at your nipples. This to make everything more exciting. Well, have a good day. See you tomorrow.”
Karen left, leaving Lynda with the torture/pleasure devices. The dildos, the electrodes, seemed to be firing in sequence. Lynda’s body would have loved to move, twist, gently rock with the devices, dance with them, but the cast prevented any movement. Her arms were locked in a 90 degrees bent position. Her legs were about two feet apart. She would have breathed heavily, but she felt like in a vise. The cast was way too tight around her waist and chest.
The nipple electrodes were firing, then the dildos were vibrating. Lynda was in hell. In heavenly hell. And she liked it. She realized that being restrained amplifies the sensations, the pleasure. She let another orgasm explode. She had just a few minutes to relax before another started building up. After a while, she fainted, exhausted.
It was dark when she woke up. She couldn’t tell the exact time but it was the night. The dildos and electrodes hadn’t stopped their work, and were constantly stimulating her. It wasn’t long before another orgasm built up. She came once more. She tried to scream, to ask for relief, but nothing much as a mumble came through the gag and fiberglass cast. And it was only the first night. She had three more days to go.
The next day, Karen came in with a huge syringe filled with a brownish substance.
“Your meal is ready.” She said, plugging the syringe to the mouth feeding tube and pushing the stuff in.
Lynda felt her stomach warm, being filled up. Within a few seconds, she felt full, fed up. But the vibrators and electrodes haven’t been turned off, and she found weird the sensation to come while eating.
Her stomach full didn’t help with her breathing. The cast didn’t give more room.
“There. All fed up. Now tonight, it’s gonna be the enema treat. Well, I would like to chat longer, but I have to go to work. See you at the end of the day.”
With that Karen left, leaving Lynda to herself and the devilish devices.
She didn’t know what time it was, and she was starting to forget where she was. She was coming back to reality just to plunge back into her fantasies, to her sexual stimulation. She wanted more. She didn’t care. She felt her body getting warmer, as if she was getting filled with something hot. She opened her eyes and saw Karen in front of her, holding a long tube that was entering her mouth gag.
“Time to feed you, darling.” Was all Karen had time to say before Lynda was back out.
A few hours later, when Karen performed the enema, she barely noticed. Karen was smiling. The technique was working, confirming her theory. That would also make her dad happy, knowing for a fact that what she went through with her abductor was really the source for her strange sexual habits, and not just a “rich girl thing”.
She let Lynda at her torments.
She felt cold and she shivered. She opened her eyes to find herself laying down on her back. She felt light, and her skin felt weird. Air was touching it as she was out of the cast. She didn’t like that. She wanted her skin covered. She wanted to be tightly encased, restricted. But she was all free, naked under thin satin sheets.
She shivered. She tried to get up. Her body was aching. She had been immobilized for about 3 days in that body cast. She had a sharp pain when she put her feet on the ground. She couldn’t lay them flat. She had to walk on her toes, as in on high heels. She saw herself in the mirror. She had been cleaned, but her body still showed the marks of her ordeal. She was completely nude. No clothes, and no “toy”. She reached her crotch with her left hand. It was very sensitive, but yet still sent shock of pleasure as she touched it.
She looked around. Everything was there, waiting for her on the corner chair. A heavy latex catsuit, a corset, high heels, the desired dildos, hood, gloves, even a gag and some restraints with padlocks, but without any keys. If she chose to get them on, she wouldn’t get free before Karen let her. There was some instructions with it:
I’m out for the day. You wear what you want. You can wear nothing if it pleases you.
The dildos are fully charged and setup for random firing, which should last 12 hours. You have to put them on BEFORE the corset and/or the catsuit.
You have locks for everything. You’ll be able to get free when I’ll be home, depending on how you behaved. I should be back around 8 or 10 tonight, but since you don’t have anything to tell what time is it, it’s gonna be just more fun.
Lynda didn’t think twice. She took the two dildos, applied a good amount of lubricant and shoved them up her orifices. They were made in such a way that they couldn’t go all the way in; a large flange was holding them.
She took the latex catsuit. It was shiny, and quite thick. She slipped her right leg first. The fit was tight, and she had to pull hard to get her foot into the built-in sock, even with all the powder she put on. The left leg was as much a struggle. When she pulled the waist up, it pushed her dildos deeper in, and compressed her butts, which locked the dildos in place. As if they sensed it, they fired. Lynda let out a scream. The vibration lasted about 2 minutes. She was panting. It had been good, but would have been better if she were all dressed up.
She found it hard to put her arms through the tight sleeves down to the attached gloves, standing on her toes. Once the suit was up, she took the long string attached to the back zipper and pulled. She had to twist and worked hard to get it all the way up. The suit was so tight it was acting a little like a corset, compressing not only her waist, but her entire body.
She sat on the edge of the chair, again pushing the dildos deeper. They fired again. She collapsed on the ground, both hands at her crotch. She wanted to dildos to go on and on and on, but they stopped shortly after. She came back to her senses and proceeded to put the knee high lace-up black platform boots with a six inches heel and a one inch platform. She found it weird to stand up with boots like that, but she liked it.
It forced her to squeeze her butt, compressing even more the dildos which fired again. She quickly laid on the bed, rubbing her crotch, her tightly encased breasts, and she finally had the orgasm she wanted for over half an hour. She relaxed and fell asleep.
When she woke up, she was drawn by the restraints. But she didn’t have a clue at what time it was. With a bright smile she opened the door of her “room” to have a peek at the basement window. But it was black, covered in blanks. She couldn’t see a single spot of sunlight. She had no way to tell the time. She returned to her room, each step massaging her dildos.
She was surprised when she felt that her waist wasn’t tight enough, that the corset would be nice. She grabbed the leather garment and looked at it. It was long, and had steel boning. She slipped it on. It was covering her from the hips up to her neck with holes for her breasts. There was a small paper showing how to use some kind of tightening device. And there it was in the corner.
She put both ends of her strings on the machine, took place as indicated, and flipped the switch. Immediately, the corset tightened, the strings pulled by the machine. She felt her waist getting compressed, her hips too, and to her dismay, her chest, making breathing difficult. She flipped the switch to turn it off, but it did nothing. She nervously had another look at the instructions: the device would not stop before the corset was all the way tightened. And it was already too tight. When she was certain that she was getting crushed to death, it stopped. All she had to do is take the strings and tie them in a knot, or, option two, flip another switch on the device that would cut them and fuse the ends together, but this way, she wouldn’t be able to remove the corset.
No. She wanted some control. She turned around to get the strings from the machine, but accidentally flipped the fusing switch. It was too late. It took 10 seconds and it was done. She was now stuck in the tight corset. Frustrated, she made a few steps away. Her upper body was stiff and rigid, but her figure was awesome. Her thin waist was emphasizing her normal breast, which now looked immense. The dildos fired again. She collapsed on her knees, then on all four. She crawled to the bed but had an orgasm before reaching it. As if they had a mind of their own, just at the peak, they stopped, leaving her frustrated. She screams. Although she loved it.
She returned to the chair and took the hood and the gag. The hood was of heavy latex and closed with a zipper going down the back of the head. It would cover her face completely, leaving two glassine holes for the eyes, and a hole at the mouth. The gag had a detachable pump, attached to the inner tube of the bigger tube going into the gag. The bigger, or outer tube provided breathing, while the other pumped the gag. She remembered the details of the note.
The gag is inflatable, with a trick. The only way to remove the pump is to break the joint. Doing so makes it impossible to deflate, unless you have the right gadget. I do have it. You don’t. Your call.
The only way to fit the gag was to put it under the hood, as the mouth hole allowed for the breathing tube only. She had the choice of putting the hood only, or the gag first then the hood. She decided to try the gag.
It was held in place by a long latex strap. Lynda stretched it over her head and placed the gag. The fit a was tight, and there was no adjustment. It was pushing deeply in her mouth. She pumped it. More and more until her cheeks were swelling. She felt her mouth was about to explode. The rubber filled her mouth, pinning her tongue down and forcing her mouth open. She thought it was a little too much, so she let go of some pressure, until it was more comfortable. She chewed on it, and found the taste, and the squeaking of the wet rubber interesting.
Next, she put the hood on. It was a difficult task, as if the hood was two sizes too small and very thick. The problem arose with the pump of the gag. It wouldn’t go through the mouth hole. She had to remove it. To remove it, she had to break the plug, and then, there was no way out. She thought that she could always puncture it to deflate, so she broke the plug. The hose went through the mouth hole easily. She zipped it down the back. She felt her entire head compressed, like in a vise. But the gag , which was comfortable without the hood, was now way too inflated. The hood forced her mouth shut, and compressed her cheeks. Although the feeling was awesome, she wanted out of the hood. She tried to remove it, but the zipper wouldn’t move. Frantically, she flipped the instruction sheet over, trying to find a solution. She was shocked.
If you’re looking at this side of the sheet, there’s a good chance that you’re in a panic state, having put too much pressure on the gag before putting the hood on, and now can’t remove the hood. Well, you’ll have to live with it. There was contact glue on the zipper. Now, the hood is glued shut. See you later.
Lynda tried all she could to remove the hood, but it was too thick. Impossible to tear, and so tight on her head that she couldn’t put her fingers underneath. She tried to relax, which helped. And, as stuck as she was, why not go all the way.
She took the wide leather cuffs and applied them to her ankles, over the knee and at the wrists, locking them in place. She put the high leather collar and fastened it tight around her neck and locked it. She then took the padlocks and was about to lock her ankles together when she changed her mind.
She walked as far away as possible from her room, then locked her ankles together and her knees. She could still walk but with tiny steps. She placed her hands in her back and worked the last padlock, linking her wrists together in her back.
Now, the only way for her to rest comfortably on the bed was to walk back to the room. Of course, the dildos fired, and made the whole trip even more difficult. But she craved the feeling. The helplessness, the bondage, the tight embrace of the ultra-tight catsuit, the corset, the hood and the gag. It took her about half an hour to reach the bed, where she collapsed.
She slowly rocked on her stomach, and with the help of the dildos, had a good one. She fell asleep, exhausted, shortly after.
She woke up in pain. Her jaw was aching, her legs were getting numb, the cuffs being way too tight, and her arms were already numb. She tried to sit but only managed to roll on her back. The dildos fired again, making her forget all the pain.
She had no clue how long she had bound herself. No clue of the time elapsed since she put herself in this situation. She didn’t care. She wanted more.
When Karen came back, she found her in a pretty bad shape, almost unconscious. She freed her from the bounds, the suit, the gag and the dildos and helped her take a shower.
She helped her put back the dildos, then a thick and tight spandex catsuit, with attached hood, gloves and feet, then led her to bed.
She fastened the wide leather collar around her neck, locked it and linked it to a chain, also locked on the wall over the head of the bed. She comfortably tucked Lynda in the bed, and let her sleep.
It was only the beginning.
For three weeks, Lynda knew nothing else than constant sexual stimulation, high heels, tight catsuits of every kind and permanent bondage.
The last week, Lynda spent it totally immobilized, tied to the wall, blinded and deaf, constantly stimulated.
She totally lost track of time, only feeling the pleasure, and wanting more. Then, suddenly, she fell asleep. A sleep of rest. Peaceful.
When she woke up, she didn’t know where she was. She was totally disoriented. It took her quite some time to figure out where she was, and who she was. She was feeling weird, naked psychologically. She was wearing fine satin pajamas.
She recognized the standard setup of a motel room. She had probably been drugged by that Karen. The fuzzy things she remembered were probably just a nightmare, or something implanted in her mind by brainwashing. A note on the night table stated that the room was already paid.
She tried to get up but her feet hurt when she tried to lay them flat. She looked at the back of the heel, where she could see a very small scar.
By the bed was a pair of slippers with a 4 inches heel. She put them on and walked to the bathroom.
She still felt naked, as if something was missing. But she had her article. She knew where Karen lived and, not only she would get promoted to the Post, but she would get her arrested for abduction and torture, as well as unwilling surgical alteration. But first, she had to find out where she was.
She took a shower then dressed up. On the bed was her blue skirt and jacket, along with 4 inches heel pumps. The clothes were hers, not the heels, but she had no choice but to put them on.
She walked out. She was in a motel. Her car was parked right in front. On the passenger seat, there was a road map with a city circled. She looked at it.
“Shit! I’m on the other side of the country from that bitch!” said Lynda out loud.
It was already early afternoon. She got on the road and drove off, back to Karen’s place. She had the firm intention of confronting her. She had no right to do what she did to her. She expected to be there in three days.
She stopped for dinner in a roadside restaurant. When she got out of the car, she felt weird again. Her skirt wasn’t feeling right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
She sat at a remote table of the restaurant, full of truck drivers. Her eyes were dragged to that woman driver, wearing tight jeans and cowboy boots. She looked at the jeans, and began to wonder. She suddenly had memories of tight embraces.
No, she said to herself, looking away. You’re dreaming, lady. She said, trying to convince herself. But she couldn’t resist looking at her tightly encased legs. But she refused to admit it. It was impossible.
For the rest of her meal, she was drawn to every woman wearing tight jeans that were passing by. She went back to her car and drove off. Her thoughts were only on the tight jeans.
She selected a small motel for the night. She turned on the TV and ended up on a closed circuit adult channel, where two women were having a ball with each other. One was wearing a latex catsuit. Lynda shivered. She surprised herself at almost drooling. She couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. Without noticing it, her fingers had found the way to her crotch, and were slowly massaging it.
When she realized it, she withdrew them as if they had touched fire. She got up and paced around.
“No. It’s impossible. Lynda, wake up. You were brainwashed. You don’t need that. You don’t want that.” She said, turning off the set.
The night was not restful. She was craving for tight jeans, for latex, for bondage. She wanted to be held immobile.
The next morning, as soon as the stores were open, she rushed to a jeans store, and bought the tightest pair of jeans she could put on. She kept them on and went to pay the sales lady.
“Do you know where I could find spandex or latex wear around here?”
“Spandex and latex?” asked the puzzled lady. “I think you will find that at a sex shop. I think the nearest is about 23 miles to the south, on the next city”
Karen left without even a small thank you and rushed to her car. She just couldn’t hold it. She just had to have some. She thought that, if she spent a few hours in them, it would cure her.
She entered the sex shop almost running. A quick glance and she spotted the latex rack. Like a drug addict, she searched through the garment rack.
“May I help you?” asked the clerk, dressed gothic style, with black leather pants, long boots with a thick flat platform, and rings about everywhere on her face.
“Catsuit. Do you have a catsuit… there. Now, what size is this thing. Medium? No, I want small. Got any small?”
“Gee dude! No hurry. I’ll go see in the back.” She said, very slowly. Lynda was panting, and frantically looking around. She spotted the spandex rack and quickly got out of it a leopard skin spandex catsuit. The clerk had returned.
“Yes, I do have one, in purple. But is it for you? You seems more to fit a medium size”
“No, small is good. I want it tight.” She said, heading for the dressing booth with the spandex catsuit.
She tried all she wanted, it wouldn’t fit. She had to settle for a medium one.
“If you want tight, you should try a corset.” Said again, calmly, the gothic clerk.
“Yes! That’s it. A corset!” said Lynda, running for the corset rack. She chose the longest and the strictest she could find.
“That’s pretty extreme. Have you worn one before” asked the lady.
“Euh… yes. Yes I did…. Oh, right, dildoes.” She said, heading for the display stand. She chose two of them. Huge, before heading for the counter and laying everything on one big lump on it. “Now, how much do I owe you?”
She paid the bill with her credit card, pretty much reaching its limit, then headed back to her motel room, leaving a puzzled sales lady.
She inserted the dildos then put on the latex catsuit, followed by the corset. Then the spandex catsuit, and finally the tight jeans.
She laid there, on her back, slowly rocking her hips up and down, fondling at her crotch with her fingers. It wasn’t long before she had a much needed orgasm before she fell asleep.
A knock on the door woke her.
“Cleaning lady. May I come in?”
“NO! No, I’m… I’m naked! Come back later.”
“Very well, miss.” Said the lady.
Linda got up and removed everything, before putting back only her tight jeans and a T-shirt. She stuffed everything in her car, paid for the room and went. All the way, she couldn’t stop thinking about how good her tight jeans felt. She was eager to return to her latex catsuit, to feel the corset.
The drive was long. She would have preferred to simply stop in a motel and spend the rest of the day in her latex, spandex and denim cocoon but she resisted. Her goal of reaching Karen’s place was driving her. She stopped nonetheless to buy more high heel footwear, and some more clothes.
That night, she slept wearing the whole outfit. She slept much better, but still, something was missing.
The next day, she put the spandex catsuit first, and then the jeans, topping it by the long sleeve shirt bought the day before, to hide it. Leather gloves were added. The tight jeans and white patent high heels platform sandals followed it. On the way, she stopped by a hardware store and bought some rope.
She spent that night tightly bound, as much as self-bondage could do. She wanted more. She didn’t mind, she was close to her goal.
She reached the small town, at the end of the day, as the sun was setting down. But to her dismay, she didn’t see the house, but a pile of still smoking ash. The house had been burned down!
She got out of her car and looked at the house in disbelief.
“That rat got away. Don’t worry, I’ll find you.”
From the other side of the street, an elderly approached.
“Are you looking for Karen?” she asked.
“Yes.” Answered Lynda. “I was told she lived here.” She lied. “Was she in the house when it happened?”
“Nobody knows. They didn’t find any body. She had survived one fire. I believe this one came and wiped all traces of her.” Said the lady. Then, looking at how Lynda was dressing “Are… are you a burned victim too? I mean, you wear clothes similar to what Karen wore to hide her scars.”
Linda realized that it was probably the big mouth of the village, as described by Karen.
“Something like that.” She lied. “I… I wanted to see her for advice.”
“Oh. That’s too bad. Listen, if you want to stay here, there’s no problem. You won’t be harassed by the way you dress. We know about it. I know someone who has a small apartment to rent.” She said, taking her by the hand. “Ever worked in a flower shop?” she asked.
One corner up the street, a luxury car with dark tinted lenses began to drive away. Inside, apart from the driver was a man and what appeared to be a woman, her body completely covered by tight and shiny latex.
“Well, I guess you proved your point, Karen.” Said the man. “Ready to come back home?”
“Yes dad.” She said, a smile showing through the latex hood.
© Pete / monsterp63, October 2004
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