The sound of the regular, yet shallow breath could be heard. But the sound was weird, coming through the tube of the gasmask.
Gasmask located where the head would be, on this shiny rubber bag, in the shape of a human form.
A very feminine human form.
The bag was slowly squirming, limited in its movements by long chains: one from each side of a neck collar going to each corner of the large, latex covered queen bed, and the other one, from the ankles, down to the foot of the same bed.
The neck chains were short enough to prevent her from falling from it, but the foot one was long enough to enable her to gather herself, almost to the foetal position.
But she couldn’t get out of bed, and with her arms tightly held to her sides inside of the rubber bag, even squirming was difficult.
She wiggled her fingers. That was pretty much what she could do with them, taking another deep breath, as deep as her extremely tight corset allowed.
As she slowly squirmed inside her rubber cocoon, she could feel the highly lubricated multiple layers of rubber slide on one another.
Her setup was well thought of.
First, she had latex panties, with two latex sheats, which were filled with two large intruders. Then the full body catsuit, including attached toe socks and gloves, was put over. That suit had just one small zipper at the crotch, so, easily slid inside the bag.
Then a gag. It was just a flap with a ball inside and a breathing hole punched over it. She had to hold it in place with her teeth while the hood was pulled down over it.
The hood, tight and totally covering her head, including the eyes, except for a breathing tube hole at the mouth, pushing the gag tighter in.
The corset had been next, tightened slowly, carefully, gradually increasing the pressure and her pleasure, her breath shaking with each strong pull of the laces.
Once the corset was tightened, she was turned on her back, and strong, hot hands, ran over her body, feeling the tight latex squeezing every pores of her skin, going from her knees, slowly climbing up her legs, like a snake sensing its prey, going a little sideways on the hips, reaching the front before going back to the sides, along the corset, then back over her body, over her breasts, where the strong fingers squeezed the firm melons, already tightly encased in rubber.
She answered by moaning and throwing her head backward.
That was so good.
He gently guided her to slide inside the lubricated rubber bag, putting her legs into the separate compartment, then sliding her arms in the attached sleeves inside it, down to the make up gloves, putting her arms and hands by her side, without any hope of fooling around.
Only a naughty girl would do that.
He flipped her around, on her stomach, and began to tighten the laces closing the latex bodybag, with each pull, enclosing her tighter, beginning at her feet, slowly going upward, to her calves, knees, thighs where her fingers began to be pulled along, tightening her world, restricting her movements, increasing her arousal.
Then the attached hood was put over her actual hood, again with only a breathing hole for the tube. That hood too was tightly wrapped around her head, another layer to add to the compression, to add to her isolation.
A flap was then zipped over the lacing, hiding them, but mainly, producing a smooth cocoon that could slide easily on the lubed latex bed sheets.
She felt something being wrapped around her already tightly held ankles: the strap with the chain, followed by the collar. The ankle one was tight. The collar was loose, allowing her to twist and turn without getting strangled.
Over her head, a gasmask was put on, with a long tube. That was mainly to prevent her from ending up stuck, laying on her short breathing tube, and suffocating. It was a safety measure, because she would be alone.
Well… with her toys.
He made sure she was secured, and tested the limits, ensuring that she wouldn’t fall off the bed. He triple checked the gasmask, making sure that nothing could happen.
It wasn’t the first time they were doing it, having started gradually, a few minutes, then hours at a time, until Karen felt she could sustain ten hours of it.
Yes… ten hours. A full day’s work.
Because Phil had to go to work, and this is how Karen liked to spend the days: tightly bound and restricted in rubber. The rubber bag was just one option, one solution. That little dungeon of theirs, had a lot of possibilities.
All was silent as Phil left the room, preparing himself to go to work, getting dressed with a suit and tie, then, before leaving, he went back to the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, and gently squeezed Karen’s breasts three times. That was the signal that he was going.
She felt him get off the bed, and she heard the door close.
And everything was silent.
She laid there. Waiting.
She knew they were on a timer, to tease her by denying what she wants, and then, by short bursts, slowly build her excitement.
When Phil would get home, she would be horny as hell and ready to do anything he wants to get released and satisfied.
In the meantime, all she could do was squirm, gently. Although she was tightly wrapped, the fact that there was lubricant at each layer, allowed some rubbing, from one layer to the other, increasing her sensations, her arousal.
She wiggled, like a snake, trying to get out, reaching the limits of her chains a few times, and liking the restriction. One more reason to get aroused.
Having nothing else to do, she dozed off. Slept, more or less, teased by the large intruders, now silent. Until…
As usual, it started slow, with only one of them vibrating. Then it was the other one. Then the first one. Then both. Longer, harder, stronger. Before going back silent, for a long time.
Then again, a long time is relative. When you’re asleep in the morning, five more minutes are out like a flash, but as you await the next vibrating session, the one with the potential to send you over the edge, five minutes feels like five months!
And she had ten hours of teasing and tormenting like that. Or was it eight, now? She tried to keep track of the time, counting the seconds, the minutes, to lose the count, or drift off when one of the toys fired up, to start all over again.
Sometimes, ten hours felt like years, and other times, it was out in a… wait. Was that the door?
She stopped her squirming and listened. Could it be Phil coming back? This early? Has it really been 10 hours?
She wasn’t sure of what she heard. After all, she had a few layers of latex over her ears. But… Then again. More noise.
Phil might have come back, because he forgot something. It happened before. When that happens, he takes time to come and tease her a little, massaging her breasts, squeezing her butt.
She heard a noise: the door of the room was getting opened.
Smiling under her gag, she moaned louder, squirming, gently, slowly, waiting. Expecting. Hoping.
On the doorframe, two men, wearing ski masks, one holding a computer, the other holding a television, were looking in amazement, at the shiny, squirming, woman shaped worm on the rubber bed.
As if on cue, as if rehearsed several times, they both, at the same time, turned their head slowly, to look at each other, eyes wide, and mouth open even wider.
Then, the one with the computer, slowly crouched down, and put the computer down on the floor.
“What are you doing, man?” whispered the other one.
“No way, man. No way. I don’t know what she did, but look what he did to her. I don’t even want to know what he would do to me for stealing his computer.” he said, getting back up, and slowly walking away.
The other man looked at the squirming and moaning form on the bed, had a look at the room, and saw the many hooking rings, the row of whips, the series of cuffs, from leather to steel, straps, chains, rods, all hanging from different racks and shelves, and slowly backed off, putting the television down.
Karen heard a door slam, then… Nothing.
She grunt in frustration.
Phil would pay for that.
© Pete / monsterp63, August 14, 2019
There’s a sequel, if you’re interested:
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