She was slowly awakening. Coming back to reality. With a pounding headache. What the hell happened? She remembered she went out the night before.
Did she? Yes, she did. She was pretty sure. How could she forget? She had on her tightest designer tight jeans. So tight she needed pliers to get the zipper up. She had one in her purse. Then her shoes, 5 inches heels pumps. She loved those! And her beloved tight leather jacket over a white silk blouse. Oh, yes, she remembered dressing up for that night.
She went to that bar. She was having a good time. She remembers a drink on her table when she came back from the dance floor. Someone had paid her a drink. A Long Island Iced Tea. Her favourite. When she enquired who paid for it, it was anonymous, but someone she knows. She looked around, and no one within her friends had paid for it, nor knew who the mysterious provider was. Anyways, she got it quite late in the evening, as everybody was leaving. She drank it alone at her table. And… that was it. That was all she remembered.
She was coming back to her senses. The fog was clearing up. She was beginning to feel her body… again. She never lived it before, but she figured that’s how she would feel, coming out of anaesthesia.
Anaesthesia? Was she hurt? Has she been involved in an accident? That would explain… As she was coming back, she tried to swallow. There was something in her throat. She tried to swallow some more. She couldn’t. There was definitely something down her throat. Through her nose. Through her mouth, actually feeling it. She couldn’t move her tongue much. That’s it. She had been involved in an accident, she was currently in the hospital, having sustained intubating. But it meant that it was bad. Very bad.
She dozed off again. When she came back, things began to get clearer in her mind. She opened her eyes, but it was dark. Totally dark. When she tried to move, she couldn’t, her arms were stuck in her back. Oh, yeah, the hospital. They must be in casts. But… in her back. She felt her shoulders strained. Yes, she could move her arms, slightly. They were not cast, they were… bound! She could begin to feel cuffs at her wrists and over her elbows. When moving her arms, she could feel the link play within their fasteners. She could rub her hands together, but she couldn’t exactly feel them. It was as if she was wearing gloves. Tight slippery gloves. Rubber? She was bound up, which means that… she was gagged.
Panicking, she tried to get up, but her body was stiff, and her breath short. Something rigid and very constricting was squeezing her waist. For having worn a few before, she recognized it immediately as a corset. What the hell was going on here?”
Twisting, she managed to sit on the edge or wherever she was. It was no surprise that her legs were also tied together, but with some longer links.
There was something very odd on her rectum and crotch as she sat. There was something in there. Long and large. Huge. She could very well feel them as she was sitting on them, pushing them inward.
She decided to try to get on the ground. She probed with the tip of her feet and felt the floor, easily reachable just by letting herself slide off the table or bed she was on. The tip of her toes touched the floor. She let herself go down farther, and tried to put her feet down, but they kept on their toes. She was used to high heels, but this was insane. It was like… Wait a minute. Ballet boots?
Once she was fully on the ground, she let go of the table and stood by herself, shaking, on her toes. She made a small tentative step, then another one. On the third one, there was a tug on her neck. Yes, of course, her collar was attached to a wall or something. She couldn’t go farther. She came back to the table and climbed back on it, her feet dangling.
She seemed totally deaf. She could hear no sound. She obviously couldn’t talk, and she couldn’t see.
She twitched when someone touched her. Yet, the touch was weird. She never heard or saw anyone. Whoever it was had a firm grip. She felt fondling on her collar, then a tug forward. She got down on her feet and proceeded, slowly. She made about two dozen steps before she had to climb on something, then made a few more steps. All these movements created a rubbing on whatever was inside her. It was disturbing. Not painful. Disturbing… on the side of pleasurable.
Something was getting installed over her body. Straps were getting tightened. She could feel them, but at the same time not feel them. Was she fully dressed in rubber? Like in fetish fantasies stories his friend Phil had her read?
Something was pulling on her shoulders, almost raising her. Then she felt as if she was moving forward, but her legs were still behind. She made a step and immediately realized she was on a treadmill. She began to walk. The speed was slow, which was the best for her pointed boots… practice. So that was it? She was getting exercise to get good at walking in ballet boots? What the hell was going on? Who was her abductor. And why?
She walked for a while but it was getting painful. Those boots were not made for walking. They were made for bedroom play. Yes, she had ballet training but spending a few seconds at a time on its toes, vs walking for that long, was a hell of a difference. She was heavily sweating under her latex suit. The dildos were not exactly helping at keeping her cool. It was aching more and more and, since she was supported by the shoulders, she began to let herself hang to relieve some pressure on her feet. But then she felt a strong electrical jolt within her. Whatever was deeply inserted in her crotch had electrodes, and they were not for play. It hurts. She pulled herself back up and continued to walk, up to the point where the pain of the jolt was weaker than the pain on her feet and she let herself hang by the shoulders, her feet dragging.
The treadmill was stopped and she was dragged, walking on her knees, back to the bed and tied to the wall. She was eager to sit back on it. A strong hand got a hold of her head while something was being pressed against her mouth. Soon after, she felt something cool running down to her stomach. Water. That was a relief. She needed it. Her breathing slowed down. She unplugged and received a small friendly tap on her shoulder, and that was it.
She stayed there for a few moments, waiting, expecting, hoping to have some explanation, but nothing.
She was asleep when a quick jolt at her crotch awakened her. She was put through the same exercises, water and rest. After a few sessions, she couldn’t tell if it had been all in the same day or same week, blind and deaf, having completely lost track of time, she was hung by her collar, and something was plugged at her crotch. There, she could relieve her bladder while her colon was being filled. An enema, she figured. That was probably the only way to go on the pot.
She was quickly getting good at the treadmill. Her ballet dancer background, and probably, her figure skating background paid off. She could sustain the whole session, and was feeling fine afterwards.
This time, after the leash was linked to her front collar, her blindfold was removed. She would finally see who it was. She was disappointed. First, her eyes appeared to be covered by quite dark lenses, diminishing, even blurring her vision. Secondly, she had pretty much expected it, the man standing in front of her, short but large built, was wearing a leather hood with dark screening over the eyes and mouth. He also had gloves, so Karen couldn’t make up his skin color. She looked around. She was within a large cage, or prison cell, two walls being of concrete, two or steel bars. To her right, she immediately recognized the treadmill. That was the only exercise equipment. The rest looked more like medieval torture chamber furniture: multiple steel rings on the concrete walls. Crosses, benches, chains hanging from the ceiling, even heavy looking boxes. She knew what bondage games were, and she recognized most of this stuff. Whoever this was, was a serious kinkster. But why her? What did he want from her?
A tug on the leash, and she knew better than to follow without resisting. She was led out of her cell, evidently in some basement, and had to struggle a flight of stairs, ankles linked, arms in her back, to reach the main floor. It was a huge house she didn’t recognize. She had a hard look out the windows, to try to figure out where she was, but it seemed to be a large property, surrounded by forests. The man made her a tour of the house, showing the bedrooms, washrooms, living room and kitchen. Then he unfastened her wrists, linking them with a chain going in front of her, but leaving her elbows tied together. He then took handcuffs, wrapped one around her left hand, picked a vacuum cleaner hose, and linked the other cuff to the hose.
Whoever he was, knew she was left handed. He made a broad gesture that was easy to understand: clean.
Karen went on, vacuuming the room. Then he put a head harness with an attachment off the front to which he fixed a dusting feather. Then it was to the kitchen, where he put a recipe book in front of her, unlinked her elbows cuffs, but linked her wrists together. She was, obviously, being trained as a slave. A rubber slave. But by who? Why? After the meal, there was more cleaning and vacuuming. She had to make the beds, clean the bathroom, etc.
Now, seeing the daylight, Karen had a frame of reference. At the end of each day, she was brought back to her cell and tied up on different devices, like to show her what they were, and what they could do. That routine lasted over 10 days, on that last day, when all was done, she was brought to her cell, as always. There was a board with restraints and a vertical post. She was asked to kneel on the board, the post between her legs, her back to it. There was a small horizontal lump where her crotch would rest. Her lower legs were fastened tightly with straps at the ankles and below the knees. A wide strap squished her waist against the post, as well as her upper chest and collar. Her arms were linked together behind the post. She couldn’t move much. The blindfold was put back on.
She expected the same sequences as all the day before: a powerful painful jolt, lasting merely one second, followed by pulsing and vibrations from whatever was resting against her crotch, and even from the inserts themselves. The meaning was clear: you could be severely punished, or rewarded.
She was pretty much dozing off when a painful jolt brought her back awake. The blindfold was removed and Karen was shocked. In front of her, was Lynda, her sister. Her twin sister to be exact. She was there to save her. Karen was twisting in her bounds, evidently asking to be released.
Lynda was looking at her… smiling. There was a crackling sound in Karen’s ears.
“Hello, big sister. Well, you’re not that big anymore.” she said laughing.
Karen struggled harder, but Lynda immediately produced a small remote, and Karen felt a painful jolt.
“Calm down, will ya? It will be easier for you. What’s going on, you might be asking, right?” she said, to which Karen nodded the biggest yes she could, restrained as she was.
“You were always Dad’s favorite, you know that.” said Lynda, to which Karen nodded no.
“Oh, yes you were. You were given ballet lessons, then figure skating. You were so good, dad was always with you to those competitions, up to the championships, while he pulled me out of ballet half way in to send me… diving. You had all the attention, while I was alone on that diving board.”
Karen nodded no. This was untrue. Yes, Lynda had been pulled out of ballet dancing half way through, but it was because she ripped off a ligament on her knee, preventing her to continue ballet, or figure skating. Lynda chose diving, but hated it, going nowhere, so Karen was followed. To Karen, to her parents, Lynda had simply other venues, other interests. They were not favoring Karen for Lynda. Not at all.
“Anyways, sis, you know dad left us a hefty sum into a shared bank account. If one of us was to be incapacitated, the other would take care of her, using that bank account. No one knew the amount in there. Dad always kept it a secret.
Thanks to Dr. Phil, here,” she said, pulling the short man’s hood, revealing a bald man in his 50’s, looking stunned, “you’re officially impaired, unable to take care of yourself, and this is true! I mean, how could you go to the bathroom or even feed yourself. You can barely move.” she said with an evil laugh.
“You… you were not supposed to reveal my involvement in this. I don’t want to be a part of this, Karen. She blackmailed me for “
“Shut up, you, slime. You do as I told you or you’re going to jail.” she said, before turning her attention back to Karen. “You remember that bastard from my botched knee operation. Yes, it was botched, and about a dozen or so other operations. So he either sign the documents testifying you’re incapacitated, or he go to jail for the rest of his life. And I have all the money I need to take care of you, dad left five millions in that bank account” she said with an evil laugh.
“From now on, you will be my personal slave, my pet, my… thing. And this is the last you will hear from me or anyone else. You see, the earplugs you have have a battery life of about two weeks. So in a few days, they will be dead, and you’ll be deaf.” she said, laughing, leaving, pressing the remote. Karen twitched and yelped under her heavy gag. The jolt lasted almost three seconds where all her muscles were fully tensed.
Lynda walked away, leaving to Dr Phil to close and lock the jail door. He looked at Karen with a smile as the vibrations started again, and he made an appeasing gesture. Apparently, he didn’t exactly follow Lynda’s orders, who probably asked for only painful devices.
As the vibrations increased, Karen closed her eyes. Another orgasm was building. Now that she knew what was going on, where she was there, who was in control, she could stop worrying… and enjoy.
She threw her head backwards, her body was shaking by convulsions, straining against her bonds. The orgasm exploded throughout her body. She wouldn’t mind a life of that.
© Pete / monsterp63, August 2016
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