Karen – The Soup Master


She let out a low pitch grunt as she tried to move her aching legs, but nothing yielded. Her ankles were firmly held on the bottom of the narrow cage. She could wiggle her booted feet, but even there, barely.

Her thighs were shaking under the strain. She was not in the most comfortable position. Half kneeling, half crouching down. Her butt was in the air, and maintained there by two large intruders in her ass and crotch. Her neck was restrained by a tight steel collar inside the cage door. Same thing for her wrists.

She was not resting. She was being punished.

Her master, Phil, gave her a simple task: make me a chicken-noodle soup. She did. Well, not exactly. What was put into Phil’s bows looked more like chicken vomit. Just the sight was disgusting.

So, she had been punished, put inside the cage and left there to suffer.

She tried to move, to ease the pain on her knees, but nothing moved. Same thing for the huge plugs. If at least, she would have been able to move forward and backward, basically screwing herself, it would have made the matter more fun, but no. But her neck would not allow any movement, locked on the cage door, and with her mouth filled in place with a fixed ball gag. She was stuck.

She heard footsteps. She figured Phil was approaching. She couldn’t see, he had slapped a blindfold over her eyes.

She felt a gentle touch, caressing her bald head, covered with a thick and tight latex hood. She moaned, sounding like a mix of a puppy and a kitty.

“Did you learn your lesson, Karen?” asked Master.

“Effff.” she answered, through the large ball gag, a pool of drool dripping out of her mouth, landing on the perfectly shined floor.

She felt him kiss the latex hood covering her bald head, then he moved backward and loosed the clamps holding her ankles in place.

She still couldn’t move much, her ass was well locked in place.

He went to the front and loosen the clamps holding her wrists. She gladly put her hands on the bottom of the cage, letting out a low pitch grunt of satisfaction. He then lowered the ball gag, adding more drool to the pool. She knew who would clean that mess.

Now that she could support her upper body on her hands, he released the clamp holding her neck still and gently opened the door.

He snapped a leash on her collar and gave it a gentle pull, instructing her to move forward. She complied, moving slowly as she was pulling herself out of the large intruders in her crotch.

She moaned. This was both pleasurable and painful.

She slowly crawled out of the cage, legs still shaking, but relief that they could move. How long has it been? Half an hour? An hour? She would never really know. Master had removed all time references for her.

A firm tug upward and she tried to get up.

Her legs were shaking as she tried to find her balance on her dreadful ballet boots.

She was slowly raising herself upward, struggling. She felt a gentle caress on her head and neck. He was a kind Master. Strict, but kind. She did  get what she deserved.

He removed the blindfold, and she blinked a few times in the harsh white light of open space that was the living room and the dining room. He used that time to close the crotch zipper of her suit.

She stood still. She knew the drill. Master would fix her. He put a very short hobble chain between her ankle cuffs, and a longer chain between her wrists cuffs, keeping them in front of her..

That meant only one thing: she would be given a second chance at cooking tonight.

He then presented her with the gasmask. A heavy, full face mask with narrow tinted eyeglass openings. And it had been modified: it had been fitted with a long and wide penis shape gag, going deep into her mouth, almost to the back of her throat, and keeping her mouth wide open. She had good gag reflex training, and she could cope with it. But it was a very severe gag.

HIe strapped the gasmask tightly on her head and screwed in the filtering cartridges: she wouldn’t smell anything. She just hoped the meal he would require would not be too demanding on the smell to figure out if it’s right or not.

“Just make me some tomato soup.” he said, grinning. “That would be easy, it comes in A CAN.” he said, loudly, making it clear that it was her last chance.

She hobbled her way to the kitchen, making small steps on her ballet heels, limited by the ankle chains. She could feel the tight latex working on her legs. The latex was quite thick and tight. It was a neck entry catsuit, but it was so thick that she couldn’t put it on alone, even less taking it off. Her hood was part of a halter top, put on before the suit, meaning that it was impossible to take the hood off without taking the top of the suit off. She had no easy way out.

And with the attached feet and gloves, she was totally covered in thick and very tight latex.

Flexing her arms to reach the cabinet to take the can of tomato soup, she could feel the tight latex on her arm.

She just liked it. The tight embrace of the latex, the small but always there restriction, the feeling of being dressed up and naked at the same time, the shine of it.

She breathed heavily through the gasmask, her lungs limited by the tight corset compressing her already thin waist.

She prepared the soup according to the instructions. She had to get it right, because the next punishment would be harder than the cage: she would spend the night, at the very minimum, on the frame.

The frame? Yes, a frame of tubes fixed to the wall of the living room, keeping her suspended in mid-air, mainly supported by a rod at crotch level.

And with the right setup, it was devilish. Deliciously devilish. But hard and exhausting.

Close to the oven, she could feel the heat, and also the beads of sweat finding their way between her skin and the rubber, slowly dripping down.

There. The soup was ready. She just needed to stir it a little more. Nothing to add. Just add milk and heat. She can do that. She could do that.

As she took the saucepan and turned around to pour it in the bowl, she had a glimpse at the frame. She thought. She evaluated. She… put down the saucepan of soup, took the salt shaker, removed the lid and poured about half of it in it, before putting a serving in the bowl.

Then she took it with both hands and hobbled her way back to the dining room, where Master was waiting, munching on a few crackers.

She delicately put the bowl in front of him and took place, a few steps back, ready to provide Master with anything he may want.

He took his spoon and stirred the soup a few times, smelling the aroma, before taking a full spoon to his mouth.

As he swallowed, he coughed and made a disgusted grin.

“What the fuck, Karen?… You know what that means, don’t you?” he said, harshly, putting the spoon down.

Karen lowered her head in a disgraced shameful way. Yes, she had been a bad girl.

“You get rid of that and clean the dishes, then you come back here. I’ll prepare your punishment.” he said, getting up.

Quickly, Karen got to work, bringing the bowl back to the kitchen, hobbling as fast as she could, almost losing balance along the way, feeling the tight latex on her buns, squeezing them.

She cleaned and dried the dishes, put everything back in place, leaving the kitchen spotless before hobbling back to the dining room, or rather the living room, where Master was waiting near the frame, holding things in her hand. Under her gasmask, she made wide eyes.

She stopped close to her Master, looking down. He removed the hobbled chain then, by tapping her inside thigh, forced her to spread her legs. He opened the crotch zipper, then proceeded to insert a very long and large dildo. Karen moaned. That thing was new. She never saw it before. Nor that she had seen the incredibly large and long buttplug he inserted just after that, then closed the zipper.

He took her steel chastity belt and fixed the strap tightly around her tiny corseted waist, before pulling the crotch strap, which itself pushed on the intruders. It was almost painful.

She tried to moan, but the long penis gag was forbidding any sound.

He removed the wrist chain and had her backed up to the frame, lifting her until her chastity best was resting on the crotch rod of the frame.

He spread her legs and affixed them to the tube apparatus, locking her ankles in place and did the same for her wrists, spreading her arms over her head, and then locked her neck, as if the severe posture collar she was still wearing was not doing its job..

She couldn’t move. Part of her weight was carried by the ankle and wrists restraints, but most of it at the crotch. So now, she had the chastity belt pushing on the dildos, and her own weight!

Just as he was finishing, the doorbell rang.

“Ah. The pizza. Just in time.” he said as he looked at his watch.

So… This was all planned out? Thought Karen.

Master came out of the kitchen a few moments later, holding a piece of smoking pizza. He approached her beloved slave, hanging on the wall, and took off the filters off her gasmask, putting the pizza under the air intakes, so she would smell it.

“This is what you’re missing, Karen.” he said, walking away, giggling.

Oh that smell! Devilish. She was now stuck to see him eat his pizza while watching the TV, and she was to smell it too!

And he was not taking any precautions. Sauce, cheeze, meat were falling everywhere. Who do you think would have to clean all that up? Without having eaten any of it? That was torture. Pure junk food torture!

She tried to move, to ease the tension at her crotch. She could feel the latex creak, but the frame was not giving anything. She was just standing there, stretched out, resting on her crotch, filled with extra-large invaders, unable to enjoy it.

That was not exactly what she had in mind. Usually, the toys vibrate or something, and they are more comfortable, smaller.

She was stuck to watch him then watch the football game, before finally heading for bed. But as soon as he turned off the lights, something awakened.

As if that was what they were waiting for, the oversized plugs became alive in the darkness. Vibrating, pulsating, humping. Sometimes together, sometimes in opposite sync, sometimes totally out of sync.

But… judging by their size, how long would that teasing last? No teasing for hours is as dreadful as constant teasing.

She was not getting rewarded, but punished, so it will be… annoying. But in the meantime, as the first of many orgasms to come was building, she closed her eyes.

“Enjoy it while it lasts.” she said to herself as the first of many launches was taking place.

© Pete / monsterp63, September 25, 2020

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