As the laces of the heavy corset were pulled tighter, she felt her internal organs being crushed even more. While suspended in mid-air, spread-eagled, she remembered how she got into this mess.
It was a couple of years earlier. She was living with her parents, and she was having a great life: loaded rich parents and a life of party. But her parents wanted more. They wanted her to take over the family business, to become the manager. They wanted her to get a Master’s in Business Administration, or MBA. She couldn’t care less. She wanted to be a teacher to give back her knowledge, or an archaeologist to visit the world and investigate ancient mysteries, or a geologist, helping understand the earth, or a lot of things, but not one of the hi class professions like doctor, lawyer or an administrator.
Her parents had made a deal with her when she turned 18: until she reached 25, they would do anything they wanted and could to make sure she would get her MBA with flying colors. When she’ll reach 25, if she has her MBA, she will get to own the company and manage it. If not, she will get a fixed allowance every month, and then she could have her own life. She had the intention to choose her courses at the university. She had no choice but to take administration courses, but nothing prevented her from getting something else.
But at 22, her parents were quite disappointed. She was receiving only bad grades for all her administration courses. She had great grades for the others, but they couldn’t care less. She was to go to a private school.
Although it displeased her, she said to herself that in 3 years, she would be out, that she could take back the courses she wanted and get her own life. She didn’t need her parent’s fortune anyway. She could get her own. Much more fulfilling than money could buy.
But she hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t expected that kind of school. The limousine chauffeur had driven her to that secluded house, where she was greeted by a tall woman wearing a very shiny dress, looking like rubber, calling herself Madam Lynda. She had looked at Karen, pointed out to her extremely tight jeans and high heels and said that it was a good thing she knew tightness and high heels.
That was the last humorous thing she heard from that woman for the following years. She was taken to another room, stripped naked, hair removing cream applied everywhere, then she was coated with a black gooey stuff she learned later was liquid rubber. Her head was completely sprayed except for holes at the eyes, nostril holes and a slit for the mouth. Similar holes were kept at her crotch for personal hygiene. She had to wear rubber shorts to cover the holes.
She had to walk in pumps with a 5 inches high heel. Most of the other students were similarly dressed. Some added rubber skirts, pants and dresses over their black rubber skins. Some even added a wig over their bald latex covered heads. Karen was one of them.
She thought that, as all private schools, although this one was rather weird, she would get kicked off after a few bad reports, but that was not their way of doing things. Instead, she was coated with more rubber. A rubber filled bladder was inserted in her mouth and pumped to the breaking point. Inflatable bladders, filled with liquid rubber, along with catheters were inserted into her lower orifices and sealed off! Her eyes were covered with tinted lenses.
On her fourth bad report card, she had to wear ballet toe boots. The boots were made of fine leather, and laced tightly before being completely covered by a spray of liquid rubber.
The only way she had to get out of these increasingly heavy punishments was to get good grades, but since she hadn’t studied much, she was always trailing, even if she was giving her 200% now. That now was simply too late.
Now she was being encased in a very strict and stiff corset, covering her from the hips up to her neck. She couldn’t bend from the waist up. Her head was being held erect and looking straight ahead. Of course, everything was covered back in rubber, which was starting to make a rather thick suit since each coat was applied all over not just over the newly applied apparel.
She was lowered on the floor. She had to learn to walk again.
She arrived at her room, a small room with only a desk to study including a computer, and a bed. She was surprised to find her parents, along with Madam Lynda. They hadn’t visited once since she entered. They both appeared very depressed. Karen was ashamed they saw her in this situation.
“Hello Karen.” Started her mother. “It seems it’s not going that good after all. Perhaps hoping you would take over the family business was unrealistic.” She said.
“You probably do not realize it,” said her father “but today it’s the last day of your agreement, since you’re turning 25.”
Karen had a flash and a warm joy engulfed her. She had been kept unaware of the time passing by. She had no way to tell what day it was, as even her computer had been tricked. If she was 25, it meant that her part of the deal was over. She could walk out of it and live her own life. Her dad simply confirmed it.
“So today, we start giving you the monthly allowance we agreed upon when you were 18, of course indexed to the cost of living.” He said, being the good manager he was.
“We hope to see you soon.” Said her mother, shaking her rubber covered hand. “But we must tell you that we’re very disappointed.” She added.
With her dad looking at the floor, they walked out of the room. Karen turned over Madam Lynda, pulling on her latex covering like to remove it.
“Why? No, we’re not removing anything. Why should we?”
Karen pointed to her parents, trying to explain that the deal was over. Her mother turned around.
“Well, Karen, your deal with us is over. We’re keeping our side of the deal. But the fact remains that the situation YOU got yourself into is only YOUR responsibility. The rules if this school are very strict: you get out once you get your diploma. YOU did it to yourself, YOU have to live with it. Don’t worry, your allowance will be waiting for you in your bank account. Goodbye Karen.” Said her mother, turning around and rejoining her departing father.
She looked at Madam Lynda.
“At your rate, I would say five more years. See you in class in 20 minutes, Karen.” She said, leaving.
Karen collapsed on her latex covered bed, thinking… Five years…
Her tinted lenses fogged up with the tears.
© Pete / monsterp63, October 24, 2005
We are sorry that this post was not interesting for you!
Let us improve this post!
Tell us how we can improve this post?