Author’s note: This constitutes what could be considered as being my 250th story. It has a little something special in my mind. I hope it does something to you too.
Impressive how things evolved in these 22 years and 250 stories.
To many more to come!
Karen looked at her walk-in closet, or rather at her disaster zone, as she liked to call it. She was so used to it by now that it didn’t bother her. Almost.
But it was springtime, and it was time to clean everything. Every year, when it was time to go through her disaster zone, she would get overwhelmed by the job to be done, and would push it back, the following week, then the following week, then the first thing she knew, it was spring again.
Now, she was decided to do it. And to think that three years earlier, she was sharing it with a roommate, which happened to be as tidy as herself, so…
She began to pick things from the floor, tossing some in a “keep” pile and many more in the “donate” pile.
She even came across some clothes that belong to her long gone roommate. She did leave on short notice after all: she was called abroad for work. It was supposed to be temporary, just one month. Then it turned into two, then into three. She made a boyfriend, they got married, and well, she never returned.
She kept contact with her through Fakebook, and at one point, she asked Karen to send her her belongings, but as for the clothes, she mainly said to just give them to the nearest Goodwill center. Apart from a few cases of personal effects, she didn’t care about much of the rest. She had made herself a new life across the pond, after all.
Soon, her Fakebook posts were far apart, and Valerie had stopped responding to her requests, to the point where Karen simply forgot about her.
Now, cleaning the closet, each time she would crouch down, her very tight skinny jeans would pinch her at the crotch, and she would have to balance on her high heel shoes, and then extend her arms, encased in a small compression shirt.
Well, she liked everything that was tight, and high heels were more than a fashion statement: she loved the feeling of wearing them, the struggle they created. In fact, she had spent so much time in heels that walking barefooted or wearing flat sole shoes were uncomfortable.
She had added one of those purple nitrile gloves, like used by the medics and stuff. She just liked to wear gloves and was alway eager for the cold season, so she would wrap herself again in tight, hugging clothing and gloves as often as she would like.
A pair of vintage jeans. Nah, to Goodwill, then she saw the label: Valerie! Well, Valerie was somewhat skinnier than she is now, so these non-stretch jeans should have a nice tight feeling to them.
She began to create a third pile: To Try On.
She found more and more of Valerie’s stuff, but she mostly put them on the Goodwill pile. Valerie did love skinny tight clothes, but she was more of a fitness freak, meaning a lot of spandex, stretch cotton, sneakers, and stuff. Not the tight clothes or high heeled footwear Karen was looking for. Too stretchy.
Not surprisingly, the Goodwill pile became a lot bigger than the Keep or To Try On pile. And it looked like she would have a lot of free space in the closet once everything was taken care of. More space means: shopping spree! She was already drooling.
Then, way at the far end of the closet, in a recess space, there was a large plastic container she never noticed before.
“Must belong to Valerie…. And yes, it is.” she said, giggling, as she pulled the container off and on it, was a large printed label:
“Valerie Private Stuff. Do Not Touch, Karen!”
Karen giggled again. That was straight forward. Well, Valerie wasn’t there anymore, and she had lost contact. She wouldn’t even know how to get in touch with her.
“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed before laughing, looking at the cover of the container, where it had been drilled and locked with a padlock. “You were damn serious, Valerie.”
Of course, she had no way to open the padlock.
“I’ll deal with you later.” she said, taking the container by the top and pulling it farther away. “Damn! That’s heavy.” she said as she gave it a yank.
With the years the plastic of the box has dried out and that yank simply broke it at the weakest point, where it had been drilled for the padlock, so, in a flash, the cover flew open, and had sent Karen rolling on her back.
She struggled in her too tight jeans and heels to roll back on her knees and crawled to the container, very intrigued by its content. And as she began to browse, her expression went from curious to freakingly surprised.
“What the hell is all that, Valerie?” as she pulled out a bunch of large zip-lock bags. Inside each of them, something heavy and oily looking. She began to read the labels:
“Fantastic Rubber Catsuit 1, Catsuit 2, Hood 1, Hood 2, X-Hood 1… Toe Socks… what the hell?” she said to herself, going deeper and reaching a layer of plastic boxes, with transparent covers, which showed more stuff.
She picked one and opened it, just to be sure that what she was seeing from the outside was really what was inside.
She took out a pair of leather bracelets, with wide leather straps and small padlocks. In another box were ballgags, harnesses. In another one collars.
Lining the bottom, two large boxes. She took the first one and opened it, making wide eyes.
“Ballet boots? Really?” exclaimed Karen.
She had a puzzled look at the second box, in which was two strips of stainless steel, one with some kind of larger oval plate. When she took the little booklet that was with it, her jaw dropped.
“A chastity belt? Damn it, Valerie…. Or whatever you are….” she said, putting the box down. That’s one side of you I didn’t know anything about.” she said in the air.
There was one last one, still rather heavy. She opened it, unfold the garment and smiled.
“A corset, of course. Why am I not surprised?” she said putting everything back in the container and pushing it aside.
“You’ll deal with that later, Karen. Just finish the cleaning job.” she said to herself.
And she found more! In a cardboard box, on the top shelf, was an assortment of toys, some apparently brand new, still in their sealed boxes.
Yeah, some of those would be interesting… although…” she said, taking a huge butt plug and making wide eyes. “Geesh!”
She continued sorting the clothes, but her eyes kept drifting toward Valerie’s container. She was no stranger to kinky stuff. She saw images on the Internet of people encased in rubber and bondage. She wasn’t disliking such images. She was more intrigued, curious. What if?…
“Might be fun.” she said, opening the container and picking up the first catsuit enveloppe.
She took it off the enveloppe and the catsuit, lightly oiled, easily unfolded. It was still in perfect shape although it had been stored for a few years. She flipped forward, reverse, upside-down, puzzled.
“How the heck do you put this thing on?” she asked herself.
Curiosity had the best of her. She made a search for the store name and found out that it was called a “neck entry catsuit” and that you put it on through the neck opening!
“Now way!” she said. She looked inside Valerie’s container for some sort of lubricant, and then remembered there were those strange bottles of oil in the bathroom, way at the back in the cabinet under the sink. On them, was the same logo. It was some clear oil.
Following the instructions, she applied a large amount on her body. As the first latex began to wrap her legs with the attached feet, she shivered.
“That thing is cold.” she said, but as she continued to pull the smooth material up, it warmed up. And by the time she was ready to put her arms in it, she was quite hot. Both inside and outside.
She easily put her arm inside the suit, into the sleeve, down to the attached glove, followed by the other one, and that’s when the suit pulled, taking its place.
It was a very tight fit, since Valerie was a little bit thinner than she was, but lengthwise, it was perfect.
She began to rub her hands on her rubber covered body, feeling the smoothness, the silkyness. She could feel the heat and the pressure of her hand, but not her hand itself. That felt so weird.
And rubbing latex on latex, on that lubricated surface was incredible.
She was back at sorting the walk-in closet. Quickly, she began to sweat, and felt the sweat beads run down her body, creating some interesting tingling sensations.
She liked it. She was hooked. She returned to her duties but found it difficult to walk on her latex covered feet, afraid to damage them. She looked at Valerie’s container again.
“Well, you’re used to high heels, why not?” she said, pulling the box with the ballet boots out and taking the fine kid leather items in her hands..
She sat on the bed and carefully put one on her right feet, to feel it, making sure the sizing was right. It should be, her and Valerie have been trading shoes.
The fit was tight, but she figured that it was the way to go with this kind of extreme footwear. She proceeded to lace them, carefully, and tightly, until her leg was well wrapped up to just below the knees. She proceeded with the next boot the same way, then put her feet down.
Slowly, keeping herself low, she tried to get up and fell right back on the bed. She had to adapt her center of gravity. She had barely no support over the heels.
She tried again, ketting her balance, then slowly raised her upper body, keeping it center lined, arms slightly flapping in the air, sometimes hitting her thigh, sending latex clapping sounds.
First tentative step. Not bad. Another one. Yes, that was actually manageable.
Five steps. She managed to make five steps before having enough confidence that this was feasible
She slowly turned to her closet and began to walk amidst the piles of clothes on the ground. She lost foot and stumbled forward, ending on all four, tumbling on the container of goods, spilling its content.
“That was a nice start, but far from a gracious ending, Karen.” she said to herself.
As she began to pick up the mess, she took the wide leather cuffs in her hands, feeling the leather, the weight. She looked at the fastening mechanism: the strap had a series of steel grommets reinforced holes, and a single pin going through it, with a padlock. There was no way to keep those cuffs fastened without the padlock. Now, where was that key?
She found them with the police cuffs. Evidently, each key had a number corresponding to the padlock, or the series of padlocks, as she found out that most cuffs had the same key.
She wanted to be sure. She locked and unlocked the padlock a number of times, each time feeling more eager to try the cuffs on.
She wrapped the first one over her left wrist, pulling it tightly. She liked the feeling of the wide leather strap grasping her wrist like that. She put the pin in the hole and inserted the padlock, closing it almost as if it was a ceremonious task. Then she put the right cuff on, tightening and locking it the same way.
She continued to sort through the pile of clothes, each time, mesmerising the sight of her shiny arm, or the cuff tightly wrapping her wrist. She could see the light reflecting on her ample breasts, raising and falling with her fast breathing, because, yes, she was getting excited.
She wondered if… She searched inside the same box where she found the keys, she remembered seeing some quick chain links. She picked one and tried to put it between her wrist cuffs. It was not easy, but she managed.
Now, her hands were tied together, in front of her. Moving the clothes was another experience. She couldn’t simply throw one with one hand while she sorted the pile with the other. No, it had to be done one at a time. She had to twist her whole upper body, flex her shoulders, making her arms, her hands, brush against her chest, her rubber coated chest, creating a creaking sound, creating strange sensations through the latex.
She was always looking at the box, at what was inside.
Soon, she had fitted leather cuffs on her ankles, linked together, and even added a head harness ball gag.
The restriction on her hands, on her legs, and even more having that huge ball in her mouth sent her mind elsewhere.
Sorting the clothes was now totally out of her mind. She was hot, and that was the only thing in her mind. She never thought possible that something as frivolous as latex could trigger something so strong.
She crawled to her bed. Yes, crawled because she was simply in no state to walk in the ballet boots.
She reached the bed and climbed on it. She was already moaning, as she struggled to reach her bedside table to retrieve her beloved magic wand.
Oh, she wasn’t new at masturbating, but this…
Hands held together, she quickly realized that she couldn’t keep the wand at her crotch and at the same time, squish her breasts. It was either one or the other.
That restriction, that limitation made her even hotter and the gag deep in her mouth, impairing even with her moaning, all that was… oh darn!
She opened her legs using only her knees, her ankles being cuffed together, and stuffed the vibrator there, which should free her hands so she could rub her breasts.
What has she done?
Now she was vibrated from below the crotch, while her latex covered hands were sliding over her breasts, trying to squish them over another layer of rubber, only to feel them slip away, like trying to catch a greasy balloon.
She squeezed her legs together, imprisoning the magic wand, increasing the vibrations, she squished her breasts, chewed on the rubber ball, and exploded, her scream muffled by the ball gag, her body taken by strong convulsions, jumping up and down, like being electrocuted.
Slowly, the convulsions stopped and her eyes realigned with their sockets as her brain drifted back into the reality of this world.
She was panting, heavily, her arms resting on her stomach, the magic wand still vibrating but without any effect.
Softly, slowly, she rolled on her side as a flow of drool ran down her gagged mouth. She tried to put one leg on the floor but couldn’t. Both legs had to move at the same time.
She softly fell off the bed, back onto one of the clothes piles, slowly, still foggy, trying to reach her harness gag to take it off while struggling with her bound hands.
The thought of removing the chainlink wasn’t even there. She struggled with the roller buckles of the harness until it came off. Resting her head on the pile of clothes, still moving slowly her hips to make the last bits of pleasure last, she grunted.
“What the hell happened here?” she asked herself.
Her heartbeat slowed down as the flow of hormones dissolved from her bloodstream. Slowly, exhausted, she raised her hands over her face and undid the chainlink before letting them fall down on each side of her, in strange positions on the pile of clothes. One few last strokes of her hips and she reached down to her ankles to remove the other chainlink.
Then she laid there for a few more moments.
“Okay, Karen, pull yourself together.” she said to herself, to put her mind back at what she was doing.
She stumbled, getting up and walked to the bathroom to splash her face with cold water, but when she reached the sink, it seemed way farther away, way lower than what she used to see and it then dawned to her that she was still wearing the ballet boots, and she hadn’t even noticed… Damn weird. She had to bend down to reach the faucets and splash her face, feeling the latex gloves and the water on her face was weird and interesting. She watched as the beads of water rolled off her latex covered breasts before falling back down on the sink of the bathroom vanity.
She liked the sight. She liked the feeling.
Half an hour later, she had three large piles of clothes for Goodwill, one to try, and another one that would have to go back in the closet. All that was left inside the closet was Valerie’s box, opened in the middle of it, with the stuff carefully laid out on the floor. She was standing in the middle of them, legs slightly apart, balancing from one foot to the other on her ballet boots.
She was strongly attracted to the chastity belt.
Hands shaking, she took the two pieces off the box and tried to assemble it, quickly figuring out which one was the waistband and which one was the crotch band. Also, that there was only one way to put it together, with only minute adjustments possible, and only on the crotch strap. The waistband was one fixed length.
Nervously, she wrapped it around her waist, which was not large by any means, but the belt was too small. She would have managed to close it, but it would have bitten painfully in her stomach.
She looked at the corset and compared it to the waistband: perfect fit. Which means that, if she wanted to put the chastity belt on, she would have to put the corset first.
That was an easy fix she was eager to try.
She took the rather long garment and wrapped it around her waist, pulling on the laces, but without much expertise. She slowly got it to close, but soon she reached the maximum she could do. There was still a large gap to close and she knew without trying it that the belt would not fit unless it was fully closed.
She needed strong hands to pull on the laces. Looking at the lacing loops in her hands, a thought occurred to her: why not have fixed hands and herself pulling away from them instead?
She put the loops around each side of a doorknob and walked away from them. It worked. The lacing was getting pulled. All she had to do is work the laces to get the tightest fit as possible. It was not easy, she was working on her back after all, but slowly, holding her breath, pulling steadily and then giving a yank, she was able to close it. She quickly knotted the laces and breathed again. Well, tried to. That was the tightest thing she ever wrapped around her body. She could only breath in short gasps. But the feeling was awesome.
She ran her hands from her breasts, down her now crushed and rigid waist, feeling it curve inward with an impressive slope, before going wider at her hips. Her hands slipped to her crotch as she closed her eyes, ready to go for another trip on the other side of fantasy.
“That’s why you need the chastity belt, Karen.” she said to herself, grabbing the belt and wrapping it around her corseted waist. It was still a tight fit and it was obvious that once closed, it would not move from there.
Bending, she grabbed the crotch strap and pulled it upward, squishing it against her crotch. She had thought about adding toys prior to locking herself in, but had more tasks to do around the apartment, and she wanted to prevent herself from… you know.
Again, it was a tight fit. It was evident that she wouldn’t even be able to slip her fingers under the belt once closed.
With a last long breath, a last thought, as if she was deciding her fate, she closed it. She heard and felt the large steel block click in place.
She smiled. A devilish smile. She was feeling devilish against herself. Weird… and hot.
She tried to rub herself, to tease herself, but the belt denied everything. The teasing was nothing much than an annoyance.
She walked to the kitchen, the corset bringing a new experience, a new way of walking, even the belt was changing a lot of things. She had to adapt to the corset, the belt and the ballet boots.
She grabbed a pile of large garbage bags from the cabinet and walked back to the bedroom, getting hotter with every step, grabbing her tiny waist with one hand, feeling how rigid it was. Oh, she liked that, the rubbing of the latex, the sound, the smell.
As she began to fill the bags with the clothes, she was still looking back at the closet. Yes. Why not.
She went back to Valerie’s stuff and looked through the latex hoods. There, one with dark lenses and a sack attached to a small hand pump. She was immediately attracted to it. She put it on. The latex was rather thick and shen she closed the back zipper she felt it tightly squeezing her face, her head, but very comfortably. It was without a doubt, a high end design. Then she took the pump and began to squeeze it, inflating the gag inside her mouth.
She felt it grow, filling her mouth, pushing her tongue down, then making her cheeks bulge. She closed her eyes. Why was she liking it that much? Why was she so eager to have her mouth filled, unable to speak, barely making any sound, forced to breath through her nose. And those dark lenses, impairing her vision.
The more impaired she was, the hotter she was becoming. She was discovering interests that she never knew existed. Suddenly, all those little kinky pictures she saw, of soft bondage with velcro straps and loosely tied ropes seemed so fake, so lame.
She clasped her hands in her back, trying to experience what it would be like to be severely tied up. One day, perhaps. One step at a time, she merely discovered these interests a few hours earlier.
She added a wide leather collar. Tightening it around her neck increased her desires, but the steel band at her crotch told her that she was not allowed to. Oh darn. Being forbidden, restricted, tied up. What a rush!
She did have an orgasm. A mental one, slowly rocking her hips. She felt falling, and she opened her eyes to regain her balance just in time, grabbing the nearest hanging pole.
“Later, Karen. Later.” she again said to herself, mouthing the words in her filled mouth. “Oh, why not.” she said as she squeezed the hand pump one more time, before removing it and throwing it through the opened door, to somewhere in the living room. To deflate it, she would have to go and fetch it.
She linked her wrist cuffs again and half an hour later of panting, sweating and struggling, she had three garbage bags full of clothes for Goodwill, the little that was left, back in the closet.
One at a time, she dragged the bags of clothes to the exit door, for the next time she would go out.
She walked back to the bedroom and linked her ankles together. Now she had to find the pump of the blow-up gag.
She hobbled her way to the living room and searching for the pump proved to be a blast. She had to walk, bend, crouch down and finally crawled, all impaired by her setup, by the corset, feeling the hard steel. Damn, she was so hot now.
She walked back to the bedroom, decided to satisfy herself.
She took the magic wand again, but it did nothing against the chastity belt, only increasing her frustration. She wanted to cum, but all tied up, without removing anything. But she had no choices. She had to take the belt off. Perhaps if she took it off, inserted toys, put it back on, then the magic wand would have an effect.
She got up and walked to the closet, then it dawned to her: she never looked for the key to remove the belt. In fact, she didn’t notice any keyhole on the belt lock, which would explain why she didn’t think of finding the key in the first place.
Frantically, she looked for anything that could unlock the belt, but all there was was all similar padlock keys. She couldn’t look directly at it, squished in her corseted waist, and when looking down, all she saw was her tightly latex wrapped breasts. She couldn’t even see her crotch, even less her waist.
The hood, the blow-up gag, the tinted lenses were all an annoyance now. She took them off, which made her thinking clearer.
Starting to panic she went back where she should have looked in the first place: the belt box.
There, at the bottom, she found a small instruction manual. Latex covered hands shaking, she browsed it. Yes, there was a way to take it off. Some kind of block with magnets that would fit over the locking block. But where was that block? She hadn’t seen anything like this anywhere?
She made a search on the manufacturer site and it clearly stated that if the magnetic key was to be lost, the only way to take the belt off was the use of power tools.
She didn’t have any of those power tools, and knew nobody who could have them. Perhaps Pete at work, but it was a long shot, and she was not willing to call merely an acquaintance to get her out of a… silly situation. That would be her very last option, after exhausting all the other ones.
But… What were those other options?
On a whim, she had nothing to lose, she sent an urgent message to Valerie through the social media app. She hadn’t responded in years, but who knows? If the message is marked as urgent.
“Need help. Put your chastity belt on and now can’t unlock it. Where is the magnetic key?” she wrote.
Over an hour later, she heard a ping sound. She looked at her phone: It was Valerie.
“So, went through my stuff again? I think to punish you, I would not tell you where it is. That would teach you.” wrote Valerie.
“Very funny. Don’t worry. The panic state I’m in is punishment enough. Please, tell me it’s in here somewhere. I’ve looked everywhere. Where is it?”
“It’s in… my purse. Here. With me.” answered Valerie.
Karen felt a weight go down her stomach.
“Fuck! Can you express it to me? I’ll pay the shipping. Just send it ASAP.”
“Give me a minute, I’ll see what I can do.”
Karen waited. Her stress had calmed down. She had a solution in sight. She might have to take a few emergency leave days from work, but that was not really a problem. A smaller one than having to go to work like that.
Valerie wrote back a few moments later, giving her an address.
“Go there tomorrow mornint at 8. Someone will take care of you.” she wrote.
“Go there? But I’m all in latex and corset and ballet boots… Well, I can take the boots off, but I mean. I can’t go out like that?” wrote a frantic Karen.
“Take a cab, they won’t give a damn, and neither will the people at this address. Don’t worry, and keep the ballet boots on. It will be more fun.”
“Seriously, Valerie, could you just…” began to write Karen, but Valerie cut in.
“I have to go now. See you tomorrow.”
“Uh. Okay… Wait, SEE you tomorrow? WTF?”
But there was no more answer.
After a few moments of panic, Karen realized that it was no use to stress herself with it at the moment. She would have an answer the next day, and hopefully, a solution.
Quickly the hood was back on, the gag fully inflated and the pump thrown back in the living room. She took more cuffs and some chains from Valerie’s stuff, added the cuffs over her knees, linked her ankles and her knees together, and attached one end of the chain to her ankles. She rolled on her side on the bed, putting her hands in her back, linking them together then pulling on the wrist chain as much as she could before fastening them to her wrists, putting herself in a loose hogtie, before rolling back on her stomach.
She cursed the chastity belt. It was doing its job.
The next morning, she called a cab and drove to the specified address. To lessen the sight, she had put on a stretch top to hide part of the catsuit and jeans shorts over her chastity belt. The cab driver had wide eyes and risked a few questions, but Karen evaded them.
The address was a small private airport. Karen figured that Valerie had sent her the key by plane, but when she asked for the given name, she was faced with an airline pilot.
“Ah, yes, Miss Karen. Please come with me, I’m to bring you to Count Müller.” he said, directing her to his small executive jet.
Karen followed in the airplane, but as soon as she was in, the pilot pulled up the stairs and closed the door.
“Wh… where is, err… Count Müller?” asked Karen, quite nervous.
“In his home, in Germany, Miss Karen. Please have a seat. The trip should take about six hours.
Apart from being confined to a leather chair, dressed in rubber, with the chastity belt bouncing with each air pocket or turbulence, the flight was pretty much uneventful.
Four times she retightened her seatbelt. Not because she needed to, but because she wanted to. She wanted to feel the strap tightly holding her in her seat. She had even wished there was more than just that small waist strap. She almost, no, she did regret removing the cuffs. Having known she was about to take a six hours flight, she would have kept them on, and even linked them. And her feet too.
She had her eyes closed and was fantasizing, being bound up in this chair, feet restrained to the floor, upper body tightly strapped to the seat, arms wrapped around the armrests, unable to move, unable to speak, her mouth filled with the largest gag.
They landed, somewhere in Europe, she assumed was Germany, since this is where the pilot had said they were going. A limousine was waiting for her at the small private airport.
Karen took place and they were off, driving for close to an hour in an unknown region to her, to finally stop in front of a huge mansion. The driver opened the door and Karen awkwardly walked off. Well, getting out of a car in ballet boots was not exactly gracious. However, she resumed a very fluid and sexy walk to the door, where she rang the bell. And waited.
She heard some shuffling from the other side of the door. Finally, the door opened. It was a maid, dressed in a french maid uniform, obviously made out of latex. But her skin was the most shiny skin she ever saw, as if it was… coated?
Then walked a man, dressed in a perfectly pressed suit, pulling a leash. At the end of that leash, a woman was struggling, sporting a very shiny black latex outfit, walking with a wide spreader bar between her legs which were encased in thigh-high ballet boots, her arms tied in her back, elbow touching, her head completely covered with latex, including a blindfold and a panel gag. She was heavily breathing through her nose, her breathing impaired by a very tight black leather corset.
Karen was speechless for a moment, mouth agape, staring at the strange sight, with mixed feelings ranging from “what the fuck” to “I want that”.
“You must be Karen, I presume?” said the man with a strong German accent, extending a hand. “I’m Count Hans-Michael Müeller. You can call me Count Müller.” he said, shaking her hand.
“Hi… I’m… puzzled… Pleased! Pleased to meet you, Count Müeller.” said Karen from a shaking voice.
“You probably do not recognize Valerie under all this latex.” he said gesturing to the bound woman he had in tow. “She can’t see or talk right now, and can barely hear, but I’m sure she’s pleased to know you’re here.”
“Why…” began to say Karen, quickly slurping back a drool, as she ran her eyes up and down again on the latex bound body.
“Oh, she misbehaved, and nothing goes unpunished in this house.” he simply said. “But, how rude of me. Please, come in.” he said, giving way for Karen to enter.
She proceeded carefully, her heels clicking on the tiled floor of the entrance.
Count Müeller turned around, tugging on the leash, forcing Valerie to do a literally blind U-turn. She was struggling and didn’t seem in pain. Karen was sure she heard some moaning, but not the kind triggered by pain or annoyance, no. more the ones triggered by… fun.
The maid had closed the entrance door and walked away in a different direction.
“So, Count Müeller,” said nervously Karen, “since you knew who I was, I assume that Valerie told you about my… little problem?” she said, putting a latex gloved hand over the chastity belt buckle.
“Yes, of course.” he said, leading them to what looked like an office. He stopped by the entrance and had Valerie backed up against the wall, where he linked her collar to an O-ring fixed to the wall. That’s then that Karen noticed that there seemed to be O-rings or other sort of anchor points at many places.
To her right, a corridor, with another maid dusting the multiple frames on the wall. She was completely encased in latex, feet on platform boots with an incredible high heel, ankles linked by a short chain, hands tied in her back with some kind of leather sleeve. Her head was totally enclosed, including dark lenses, similar to the hood Karen had worn, and a dusting plumed was sticking out of her gagged mouth, and it was with this dusting plume she was thoroughly cleaning the picture frames.
Count Müeller got her out of her daze.
“Over here, Mis Karen, if you don’t mind.” he said, inviting her to sit on a leather covered chair.
What puzzled Karen, or rather what made her hot, was the chair was ready to tie someone in: it had leather cuffs everywhere, that would secure anyone sitting in it.
She hesitated, not sure if she was afraid or eager to
“Don’t worry, Miss Karen, I’m not about to tie you up to the chair. Not now, anyways. We have a few loose ends to cover.” he said.
“Loose ends? Oh shit! The trip? I… I… I don’t have money to pay for a charter flight like that…” began to say Karen, suddenly very nervous.
“It’s quite alright, Miss Karen. You don’t have to worry about it. It’s about the key to your chastity belt.” he said.
“Valerie told me she had it. Was she not?”
“Well, in fact, Valerie… didn’t tell you anything. She didn’t have access to the Internet or a phone for the past two years.”
“But… who?… You?”
He nodded and smiled.
“You… lured me here!” she said, shocked.
“Yes, I did, and apparently, it was a good choice.”
“Say what?” said Karen getting up. “I’m going back home.”
“Relax and sit down, Miss Karen.” he said from a very calm, almost singing voice. “I have something to offer you.”
Karen raised her eyebrows.
“Valerie accepted to come to work for me, and so far, she seems to… enjoy it a lot. However, she spends a lot of time in punishment, so she’s not as productive as she was supposed to be. I need someone else to cover for her lack of presence. Would you come to work for me?”
“What? Well… I…”
“You need time to think it over, I understand. It’s always a difficult decision to leave a job.”
“Yes, but… you know… how does it work?” she asked. Was she going to be working all dressed in latex, bound-up, chained to her working chair? The thought made her hot. She slightly squirmed on her chair, har arm slipping into an opened leather cuff. Her breath began to shake.
Count Müeller looked at his watch.
“I’m sorry, but I have something to attend. I should be back in an hour or so.” he said, walking to Karen, who was about to get up, but he put a strong hand on her shoulder and forced her back down.
She was startled, but at the same time, she felt that she just had to… obey.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t take the risk of you wandering around while I’m gone.” he said, picking the leather cuff at her neck level and tightening it around her neck. Tightly. Followed by the upper arm cuffs, lower arm, wrist, chest, waist, legs, everywhere.
“I’m sure you can understand the precautions.” he said, once Karen was well secured on the chair. “And I also have to make sure that no word of this is about to get out” he said, picking a head harness gag from his desk drawer and tightly wrapping Karen’s head in it, then linking the top ring to the top of the high back of the chair.
She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move, and every move she tried to make was making the leather cuffs and straps creak, a sound which simply aroused her.
He left her there, closing the door. She heard Karen struggling on the other side, hobbling away.
Karen closed her eyes, feeling her bounds, the restraint, the noise, the smell, the thought of living like that.
She tried to rock her hips up and down. The chastity belt prevented any pleasure and she was tied too tightly to move anything anyways.
She dreamed. She dreamed of a life of bondage, latex, encasement.
Two hours later, everything was settled and the contract signed.
“You can start right now.” said Count Müeller. “Elsa will show you your workplace.”
“But… “ began to say Karen. Her gag had been removed to allow proper communication so that everything about the contract was clear and understood.
“But what, Miss Karen? You signed. All was understood and agreed upon. How can there be a “but”.”
“I mean… My place, my apartment, my stuff, my old job. I have to get all that in order.”
“All can be done remotely, now, Miss Karen. No need to go back.”
“I don’t know. It’s like I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to my city… That’s silly, I know.”
“Well, I can fly you to and back, but… this trip will not be free. You will have to pay for it.”
“I… I don’t have that kind of money.” said Karen, with pleading eyes.
“Then we can work up a payment plan from your paycheck. How about a… two-year plan?” he asked, with a devilish smile.
It would mean that she would have to work for him for at least two years.
Two hours later, she was back on the plane, but this time, the setup was different. She was sitting on another seat, this one very well equipped with straps and restraints.
She was already enjoying her new life.
© Pete / monsterp63, April 19, 2020
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2 thoughts on “Valerie – Gone Abroad”
Ah, as an aspiring secretart, being secured to my chair working on proofreading and restrained from distraction would be my dream.
‘restrained from distraction’
Yeah… Riiiiight… 😉