The vibrations, the stimulation were intense. The stimulator device had only one purpose. And it succeeded every time.
She had stopped counting orgasmes long ago. She was kneeling over the stimulator, her ankles linked to her thigh by the mandatory chain, which prevented her from getting off of it, as if she ever wanted to.
Her arms were well secured in her back, elbows touching, and her neck, held erect by a straight wide steel collar, was linked to a tube coming from the floor up to the ceiling of her compartment, just behind her back..
The orgasm was building. Yes, it would be another powerful one, like all of them. She rocked her butt on the device, sideways, front and back, and when she was ready to climax, as if on cue, her air supply was cut off. The panic of breathing mixed with the ready orgasm shot her to the moon.
As the effects slowly subsided, everything went silent. She felt sad. She felt a void.
But it also meant that her master needed her.
The door of the small steel box was opened. She could only know it by the sudden rush of colder air she could feel around her latex sealed body, as the gasmask she was wearing had an opaque lense.
She was well bound to a drawer-like platform. It was pulled forward on its rails and her gasmask removed. She could see her master through her dark tinted lenses, now. Without a word, he plugged feeding tubes to her permanently gagged mouth, and injected a nutrient paste along with water, while he was carefully releasing her from the platform, but not from her bounds. She was to never be free. That’s why her collar was still attached to the post at the back of the sliding platform.
Once the feeding was completed, she was unhooked from the post and quickly linked to another chain, that one linked to a winch, which helped her get up by pulling upward. Her legs were almost numb, so it was a quick way to wake them up.
She was rapidly steady on her ballet boots. A spreader bar was installed between her ankles and the cleaning / relief plugs of her crotch were plugged to the appropriate hoses. The process would take about 15 minutes. During this time, Master was getting her tools ready. She could see them, so she knew what was ahead of her.
The tubes were removed. The spreader bar was replaced by a 8 inches bar, forcing her to hobble in a weird way. Her arms were removed from their elbow tie position and put in front of her, where they were fitted into a special device made to hold the vacuum cleaner tube. It looked like a half lobster claw. It was a steel cover wrapping her hand over the vacuum tube. There was no way out of it.
Since she was right-handed, the tube was fixed to her left hand. Her right hand was linked to the welded steel belt circling her waist with a chain, long enough for her to grab furniture and get it out of the way of the vacuum.
She was never to be free. Ever. It was all part of the deal.
Her Master attached a leash and pulled her to the room that needed vacuuming, one floor up. She had to struggle to climb the stairs, impaired by the rigid rod between her ankles. She knew that if she was taking too long, she would be punished.
Once they arrived at the large master bedroom, her Master removed the leach and attached her collar to a chain hanging from the ceiling, long enough for her to reach every part of the room, and left.
Karen turned around and pulled the long tube of the central vacuum system,which had been dragging behind her, so that she would plug the other end into the socket located at the entrance of the room.
It was a struggle with the limited range of her chained arm, and her bound feet on ballet heels.
She began her work, being extra-meticulous. Master was known to plant small items, usually small breakfast cereal bits the shape of a ring, in hard to reach corners. After the task was completed, he would inspect the room. If he finds one of those cereal bits, whoever cleaned the room would be punished.
She made sure to reach every corner, under every item of furniture she could get the vacuum under, and move those she could move, each movement playing with the toys she had inside her. Each movement remembers her that she was sealed in rubber, heavily corseted and restrained. Every movement remembering her that she desired all that, and that she loved every minute, every second of it.
She was a pleasure lover, an orgasm rush junkie. She couldn’t live without it now. And it was the same for the other slaves in the house. As for all of them, it started quite innocently.
Master’s modus operandi was the same for all. He would get down at dance clubs and spot the young woman he felt was the most likely to love that lifestyle. It was usually the one wearing the tightest jeans, preferably leather or vinyl, and with the highest heels.
Oh, a lot of them were wearing that just for the show, but he could spot those who derived pleasure from wearing all that, those who would not take off their heels between dances, those who would rub their tightly encased thigh, innocently, simply because they loved the feeling, those who wore hidden corsets, or like in Karen’s case, was wearing one in plain view.
He knew those people were the right candidate.
He would invite them to his place. Not forcing them. Sort of. He was offering them pleasure like they never felt before, as he said.
Karen was eager to try it. She loved sex. Any sex. And if it involved doing it in tight clothes and heels, it was even better. The thought that, perhaps, she would be bound was arousing, although he never mentioned it. All he did was talk about a stimulation device. She didn’t know what this thing was.
He got her home, in his luxury car, driven by a woman dressed with a shiny uniform, her face, partly hidden, appearing quite plastic-like in the dim light of the car. At first, Karen thought that this was some kind of robot.
In his house, the door was opened by a maid, also wearing a shiny french maid uniform. With the appropriate lighting, Karen recognized it as latex. She also saw that the face she was seeing was a mask. Whoever that was, was completely hidden.
This was the first test. If the woman he had invited was flinching, it was over. If, like Karen, she seemed interested to learn more, wanting to touch the fabric, the tightly constricted waist of the maid, and marvelled at her pointed boots, he would go on.
He invited her to come in, and led her into a dark lit room, with a sexy red theme. Most things were covered with rubber. The smell was obvious.
He asked what she thought about rubber, if she would like to try some.
Rubbing her hand over the latex bed cover, smiling, hand shaking, Karen accepted. She felt attracted to it. She wanted to try it. It wasn’t new. It had always been. She… knew it.
The maid came back with a red catsuit and helped Karen put it on. She was puzzled. She never expected putting an entire catsuit through the neck opening.
It had attached feet with individual toes, and gloves.
As the rubber slowly slid up her skin, she shivered in anticipation. She loved it. Somehow, this strange fabric was exciting her. It was cold and hot at the same time.
She loved its tightness, wrapping her tightly. A hood was fitted over her head, tightly encasing it, with holes for the eyes and mouth. It was strange. It was interesting.
The maid then offered her… plugs. Karen went wide eyes, but the man said that they were her choice to put them on or not. She chose not to, and he respected that decision.
He then led her to the device that looked like a half drum sitting on the floor. He instructed her to kneel on it, then he started the machine.
Karen jolted. What the hell was that thing. It was… Oooo. It “knew” what it was doing. She began to slowly rock her hips around, under the amused smile of the man and the expressionless face of the maid, although she saw her reach for her crotch, as if she was feeling what Karen was feeling.
She loved it. She felt an orgasm building. Strong. Powerful. She was moaning louder and louder, lost in her thoughts, in her universe. But when it began to be really interesting, everything stopped.
Karen opened her eyes. Standing in front of her, smiling, was the man. He was holding a few leather straps, including one attached to a red ball.
“Ever try bondage? Want to try it? It will multiply the pleasure by 10. I promise it to you.”
She was, again, free to accept or not. So far, he hadn’t done any harm to her. Why not try it.
He began by strapping her ankles to her thighs, then her wrists in her back, then drawing her elbows as close as he could, which surprisingly, ended up touching.
Karen was moaning. She suddenly loved it. Having her arms in such an extreme position was… arousing? Who knew…
He then inserted the hard rubber ball in her mouth. He was smiling. Things were going well.
Karen never felt in danger. She felt in good hands.
The stimulator device fired up again. This time, Karen couldn’t move as much. She couldn’t lift her crotch off of it. The restraints added another feeling. A strong feeling. When she began to moan, the gag was in the way, restricting breathing, filling her mouth with saliva that was drooling on her shiny breasts.
The orgasm builds up, stronger than she ever felt before. She exploded. She was sure her restraints were about to fly off, snapping in half, but they held good as her body was taken by strong convulsions, as her brain was turning to mush as the strongest, longest orgasm she ever felt in her life was wreaking havoc in her body and mind.
As it slowly subsided, she wanted more. A lot more. But that was all. This was the demonstration he wanted to do to her.
As she relaxed, while her brain was pulling itself back together after having been spread all over the universe, she was taken off the restraints, off the device and the latex catsuit taken off. She was nothing more than a human wreck.
The maid helped her put back her regular clothes. They felt dull, lifeless. The driver drove her back to the club. Once back in, she ordered a drink. Her neurons were still short-circuited.
The next morning, at home, she discovered a card in the back pocket of her tight man made leather jeans. It was simple.
“Want More? 555-1163”
The card had one side coated in black shiny rubber. She rubbed her fingers on it, then rubbed the card on her face, before getting… lower.
She had a rough week back to work. She couldn’t concentrate. All she was thinking about was the experience she lived. Then she began to have doubts: did she really live that, or someone drugged her drink at the club? After all, she was there before and after. Was that all real?
There was only one way to find out. She called the number.
After work, she was greeted by the same luxury car with the rubber face driver. She was driven back to the huge mansion where the man was waiting for her, smiling.
“So, you liked it?”
“Oh yes, but… I mean, I had a few drinks before and after it. Was it all real?”
“Of course it was. Want to try it again?”
“I… I don’t know. I’m… afraid. Sort of.”
“Afraid of what? Having too much pleasure?”
“Oh damn! I can never have too much pleasure.” she said giggling, “but I can’t reproduce that back home. What if…”
“Well, there’s a solution, but first, you want to try that again? Let’s do it.” he said, with a soft, warm voice. “Or you can just turn around and go. No pressure.” he said, standing there, waiting.
Karen bit her lower lip, eyes sparkling.
Half an hour later she was back, all strapped, on the machine, her brain already going wild. It was the same feeling as the other night. The same rush. The same powerful orgasm. The same aftermath. This time, she was driven back home to rest and reset her brain.
The next morning she made two phone calls: she called sick at her job, and she called the mystery man number.
An hour later, she was picked up by the luxury car and driven again to the mansion. The man was there, still as warm and as friendly as before.
“Damn. I just can’t stop thinking about it. I want more. What should I do? What can I do?”
“Well, you can come to work for me.”
“Really? What… what do you do? I’m nothing more than an accountant clerk. You need one?”
“I need anyone. Your accounting skills could be useful in time, but I need people to do about anything, from vacuuming to gardening, to fixing the house, anything.”
“And the… you know… the pay?”
“I don’t pay with money. You get all the… pleasure you want.”
“No money?” asked a shocked Karen. “But… How will I pay for my apartment, my food, my bus fair?”
“Oh, you won’t leave the property. Everything is done and provided here.”
“Okay, what’s the catch?”
He went on with a lengthy explanation about the latex, the permanent bondage and the constant access to the stimulator.
“See? There’s no catch. Everything is plain and simple.”
“Okay, and if I want out?”
“Anytime. You just say so. In any way you want or can: say it, write it, refuse to work, anything that might suggest you don’t want to do it. All you have right now will be put in storage. All your bank accounts will be frozen. When you get out, you get back all you got when you got in. Nothing more, nothing less.”
As Karen continued to vacuum, her brain wandering, remembering how it all started, she wondered: who would want to get out.
Her daily chores done, she would get back into her little steel box, where she would orgasm again and again, her body being rushed with 100% pure, natural, pleasure hormones.
She was addicted.
© Pete / monsterp63, March 2018
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