Karen – Steel.


She was laying on her back, on the smooth red latex covered bed, her own latex suit softly sliding on it with every move, on a thin film of lubricant.

She took a deep breath, working her chest muscles to expand the tight latex skin covering her from head to toe, without any zipper. The neck entry catsuit had been made to measure and slightly tighter than it should have been, exactly the way she liked it.

Each finger, each toe were individually wrapped in the black and shiny material.

When she moved her legs, she could feel the latex sheaths inside her lower orifices. They were filled with huge dildos that could be vibrating.

Her waist, which was naturally thin, was enhanced by a tight latex corset, squishing it to an incredible small size. There were no laces, but had a unique closing system using a steel wire that got pulled straight, bringing the two sides together in a seamless joint, its ends crimped. Tools would be needed to take it off.

Another breath. Another time her breasts got squeezed by the tight rubber. Another time she felt being groped. She liked it.

Her head, freshly shaved, was covered with a thick moulded latex hood, with an attached cowl that was reaching down under her arms, under the suit. There was no way to take off the hood without taking off the suit.

The hood had dark lenses over the eyes, and tubes going up her nose.

Her mouth was entirely coated with a latex pouch, itself filled with a blow-up gag equipped with a feeding tube going down her throat.

She was all set. She was ready. All that was done so she could experience total rubber encasement, for a week.

She did it, and it was an incredible experience, every second of every day.

She moved slowly on the bed, sliding gently toward the side, pushing herself to sit, feeling the tight rubber stretch, tighten around her body as she moved. She looked on the ground, spotting the reflection of the ceiling lamps on her gleaming black thighs. No wrinkles, just smooth rubber.

At her feet, were a pair of black leather ballet toe boots. She took one and gently pulled it up her left leg, feeling her feet being encased tighter and tighter as it reached the narrow toe section.

She proceeded to lace it, carefully, tightly, her breath shaking. She pulled on the laces, making her latex covered finger dance on the leather boot. She did the same with the right foot before laying back on the bed, her right leg in the air, admiring the shape of her leg, the smooth leather of the boots.

She played with her feet for a moment before turning on her side, resting on her elbow, her hand cupping her head. She looked at the desk, or rather what was on the desk: it was covered with stainless steel items: four pairs of cuffs, a large collar and a devilishly looking chastity belt.

She couldn’t do it with her gagged mouth, but mentally, she sensually bit her lower lip, anticipating, expecting.

She sat again on the bed and took the first set of cuffs. She opened the rigid and heavy steel item pivoting on its sturdy hinge, and wrapped it around her ankle, over the soft black leather of the ballet boot.

It was the perfect fit, and their silvery color, enhanced with brass hardware were perfect. 

She turned it around, like trying to find the best angle. Two O rings were dangling from it, one on each opposite side.

She closed the cuff, having to force it a little, squishing her leather, until she heard the distinctive click of the closing mechanism.

She sensually did the same with the other ankle cuff. 

Her breath was shaking.

She took another set of cuffs, these ones going over her knees. They were very tight, so tight that, once closed, she would have problems sitting on her knees.

Again, she admired the sparkling metal as she gracefully closed them on her legs.

She added the elbow cuffs, ending with the wrist cuffs. She took a long time admiring them, stretching her arms, letting the light shine on them. They were more than steel cuffs. They were jewlery.

She took the collar. It was rather heavy and rather wide. She would have a hard time looking down once put on.

She stood up, quickly finding her balance on the extreme heels, and approached the mirror while she closed the collar around her neck. The silver and gold colors were going well with her black shiny catsuit.

Using both hands, she pushed the collar close, tightening it around her throat. She would not be able to forget it. Each time she swallowed, she was remembered of its presence.

She looked at the table. Only one item left: the chastity belt. She took it and admired the wonderful workmanship, the smoothness of the curves, the strict denial it was carrying.

She wrapped the waist band around her corset. It would be a tight fit. She knew it. It had been made to fit exactly over that corset.

She slowly sat then laid down on her bed. She pushed both ends of the belt together until she felt a click.

All that was left, was the crotch strap.

She pulled on it and placed it between her open legs. She felt the strap push on her rectum dildo sending deeper, then on her vaginal dildo. She played with the strap, getting it loose and tight, loose and tight, each time, moaning at the play it was doing with her dildos. It almost made the last decision easier.

She reached the slot where she had to insert the tab in the chastity belt. She put it in place and stopped.

She thought, looking at the ceiling through her dark lenses. Is this the right decision? Is this what she really wanted?

Under her gag, she smiled. She was sure of her choices. She closed her eyes and pushed the tab into the belt, sealing her fate, locking herself in.

She let go of her arms, slowly squirming on the latex covered mattress.

In fact, her decision, her fate, had been sealed with the first cuff she had put on, the first cuff she had locked.

She would be a latex slave, permanently encased in rubber. Permanently bound with steel restraints. 

Well, permanently was a big word. There was a contract she signed. She always had the last word. She could have backed up at any moment. Until now. 

Now, her fate was sealed. 

The door opened and she swiftly, yet gracefully, slid out of the bed to stand up, legs together, arms in her back, ready to be locked, bound, whatever her master desired.

She had signed a contract. It was not permanent. Just… many, many years.

© Pete / monsterp63, December 28, 2017

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