Karen – Secret Agent

4.8
(27)

The background noise in the large room, cramped with cubicles, was filled mostly with the sounds of running fans of the multiple PC’s and people typing… and the creaking of leather as Karen made her way down to her own cubicle. The sound of her high heels was dampened by the carpet, but her tight leather jeans as well as her tight leather jacket was creating a disturbance in the overall steady noise of the room.

Some turned around as she passed by them, showing their disapproval with a grin. There was nothing really wrong, she was an analyst in a secret office. So, there was no dress code, nothing to enforce that something was going on inside. If every woman came to work wearing the classic white blouse and dark pencil skirt and politically correct heels shoes,  it would have attracted attention. Most came rather casual. Only Karen came with generally very high heels and tight pants. 

She sat at her desk, the leather of her pants creaking against the leather of the chair, and set up to work, looking at tables of numbers, doing analysis and stuff. She never had the complete file, so that she would never be able to tell what she was working on.

Her phone rang. A quick look at the display screen told her it was her boss.

“Hello Karen. Can you come to my office, please?”

“Sure do, boss.” she joyously said and got up in a concerto of creaking leather.

A few moments later she entered her boss’s office and was startled: the bureau director, an older man, was also there as well as the division’s director, a tall, bald man with a lot of scars on his face. He always said they were acne scars, but they looked more like acid burns, meaning he had a rough time when he was a field agent. Noe. what the heck was going on for them to be all there at the same time and… calling her?

The division’s director looked at her with wide eyes, scanning her from the head, with her long shoulder length brown hair, to her very tight black leather jacket, down to her tight black leather jeans and to her high heels shoes. That made Karen unease.

“Hi boss. Something wrong?” she asked, looking in turn at each of them.

“Karen,” said the division’s director, “what would you say about doing some field work?”

Karen was stunned. She had had some training in firearms and stuff, did her usual certification but she was by no means a field agent.

“Well, sir, I never had formal training for field work. Right out of the blue, I would say that this isn’t really my thing, I’m more of a… nerd, working on the computers and analysing data, which I’m good at… I think.” she said, looking at her boss.

“That’s not the issue, Karen, although you’re very good at your work, that is sure.” said her boss.

“So… will I have some training period, some testing to see if I’m fit for field work or something?” she asked.

The division’s director looked again from head to toes and smiled.

“No. I think you’ll be perfect as you are.” he said. “This is a simple task of delivering some data to someone, lets say, sensible data to a very… sensible person.”

“So… a carrier of some sort. And why me, if I may ask?” she said. “I believe that even carriers have to have some basic training on how to react if caught and stuff.” she said, dancing from one foot to the other, nervous. Her? A carrier?

“Because we feel you would be… perfect.” said again the division’s director who seemed to be the only one talking… or allowed to talk, or knowing what to talk about. He then handed her a large brown envelope.

Karen took it, opened it and pulled out some photographs, showing a woman in tight latex and ballet heels, tied up to an X frame and being tormented, the other pictures were obviously the same woman in a tight hogtie, in a vacbed, mummified. She recognized these images. They were on her FL profile.

“Am I… Am I in trouble for these? I believe that what I do in my personal time is, well, personal, as long as it doesn’t affect my job perfor…”

“And you’re absolutely right, Karen.” said the director. “And those images of your… alternate lifestyle, are why you are the best person for this mission.” he said with a smile.

“Why? A way to… reprimand? Nobody can tell it’s me under the latex hood.” she said, on the defensive.

“No, I told you, miss Karen. In fact, those very… skills, are what is needed.”

“Say what?” asked Karen, totally puzzled.

Her boss and the office director were looking at him, puzzled.

“Now, with Derek and Samuel as the witnesses here, I officially promote you to lever P1. Everything you’ll hear from now on is top secret. Do you understand, miss Karen?” he said, dead serious.

P1? Thought Karen. That’s 3 times her current paycheck!

“Yes, sir. I fully understand.” she said.

“Good. Now, we need to smuggle sensitive information to an agent in a troubled country. The security measures are very high and simply sending someone is a sure way for that person to be caught.

“Mmm… okay.” said Karen, puzzled. If sending someone, a very well trained agent, is out of the question, why her?

“But there’s a way, ” he said, his eyes for a moment, conveying that he was a little reluctant to continue, “which involves encasing the carrier inside a special polymer rubber suit, with the memory chip hidden… inside said person, and to make said person totally undetectable, it had to be encased into a wooden crate, totally immobile. The travel time is about four days one way, then said person is sent back by the same means, which would take another four days.”

“So…” began Karen, assimilating all that had been said. “I would be encased in a rubber catsuit, tied up inside a wooden crate, shipped out for four days, maybe have a few days of rest, then be repacked to be shipped out, that’s about it?”

“Yes, that’s about it.” said the director.

Derek was looking shocked while Samuel was nodding his head in disbelief. That was totally nuts.

“And… what if?” she asked.

“Of course, we would deny having anything to do with this and you would be on your own.”

“That’s quite risky, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes. That’s why the risk factor is at 100K.” said Derek, her boss.

“100K? One hundred thousand dollars?” she asked, wide eyes.

“Yes… per day.”

“PER DAY?” she almost yelled. “So… Sorry.” she quickly added, toning her voice down. “Can I think about it?”

“Yes, but don’t take too long. If you chose not to go, you will return to your regular job with your regular level status. We have a very narrow window to send you and have to take into account the time needed to prep you for the trip…. Ever been… intubated?”

Karen went out for a walk. With her high heels clicking on the sidewalk, and her leather outfit creaking with every step, she thought about the risks, the consequences and being encased in latex, bound rigid for four days.

Within the hour, she was back into the office, getting more details and agreeing on the project.

The very next morning, she arrived early, sporting high heel boots and tight jeans. She was immediately sent three levels below, to the top secret area to be briefed and prepped.

She had never entered that room before. The floor and walls were covered with white ceramic tiles, almost looking like a clean room. In the middle of it, a gynecology exam chair, and a table with a bunch of boxes on it.

The Division’s Director was there with a blond woman wearing scrubs.

“This is nurse Lynda. She will help you with the… personal prepping.” he said, turning around and picking up a small object from a nearby table.

“This is the memory module,” he said, showing what looked like a USB key but without its housing, “and it goes here.” he said taking what Karen could only identify as an extra-large dildo and slid it in a special compartment.. “You will be wearing it, under your security belt.” he said, producing what Karen would again, identified as a steel chastity belt. “For the duration of the trip, you’ll be intubated, “he said, showing a large penis shaped gag, with a tube going out of it, evidently for her stomach. “You’ll be given extra-low waste food, requiring only an urinal bag.” he said, showing the catheter and a large butt plug.

“Any questions?”

“Only one: why? Can’t I just hold the chip in my hand or something?”

“No.” he said. “There has to be no electronic equipment. Evidently, this is, and that’s why it’s hidden deep inside this insulating plug, itself inside you. It will make it undetectable, and although this looks like steel,” he said, pointing to the chastity belt, “It’s actually a blend of carbon fibers and other polymers, making it stronger than steel, but totally undetectable. There’s no magnetic metal anywhere, and that’s why you’re wearing the suit, to isolate your biological signature.” he added.

“Okay, I’m ready now… I think.” she said, not really sure anymore.

“Very well. I’ll leave you with Lynda and will be back when it’s time for… ahem… packing.” he said, walking out.

“So Karen,” casually said Lynda, “I’ve heard that you’re not entirely new to these procedures?” she said, inviting her to take place in the gynecology chair.

“Yes and no.” mumbled Karen, not ready to spill her fetish guts in front of a stranger.

“Don’t worry.” said Lynd with a smile. “You know me anyway.” she said, waiting for Karen’s stunned expression. “I’m DomL18” she said.

Karen went wide-eyed. Yes, she knew her. She was always wearing a very tight full body leather catsuit, including full leather hood with tinted lenses, which makes her totally unrecognizable, and often wearing a corset. She was always in thigh high platform boots, her whip suspended to the right side of her waist, and her whipping crop on the left side. She was the dominatrix who kept Karen in the vacbed of the pictures, for four hours, tormenting her, teasing her, until her brain was nothing but a mess.

“Oh…” said Karen. “That’s how he… knew… but why didn’t you volunteer? You’re an even heavier fetishist than I am”

“I did, Karen. I did try to push for myself to go. I mean, encased in a very tight catsuit, bound rigid for four days, damn! Although I’m a Dom, I would like to try that.”

“But?” asked Karen.

“I’m diabetic. I would have had to find a way to fix my insulin pump and stuff.” she said, showing the device attached to her waist.

“Oh, I understand.”

“I’m sure it will be a blast.” she said.

She said all that while inserting the catheter into Karen’s urethra, then went to her head where she pushed tubed up her nose and finally, the long tube going down to Karen’s stomach, pretty much silencing her in the process.

She opened what looked like a rather heavy box and got out a large lump of shiny black rubber.

“That suit is very thick, required for its hiding properties and also, stretches in a weird manner.” she said, unfolding the suit, putting her hands into the small neck opening and pulling hard to stretch it.

It was opening about 1cm per second, but it stretched rather large, large enough for a body to go through, and when she released it, it slowly retracted, at about half the stretching speed, to its original shape.

“That suit is a blast!” she whispered with a devilish smile. “It’s so tight, it’s unbelievable, and when you move, you have to work against this stretching resistance. Damn! I would love to have one for myself, but it’s impossible to put on alone and it’s also a… top secret fabric, so… bummer.” she said, kneeling down and stretching the collar again so that Karen could feed her feet through the opening.

Putting the suit was a very long process as they had to wait for it to stretch as her feet rode down to the attached socks.

Karen loved the tight feeling, slowly engulfing her body, from her feet, to her calves, to her knees, thighs, hips, waist, where Lynda stopped, taking another rather large rubber garment, Karen recognized as a hood. It was a long  hood which would cover her shoulders and reach under the arms, stopping before her breasts. In fact, it had to be put on like a T-shirt, over the head.

Made with the same hard-stretched material, it took a long time for the narrow neck opening to stretch over her face. As her head popped inside, she had to quickly align the breathing hoses with the nose holes as well as the feeding tube, which were all automatically connected to the outlets of the attached gasmask.

They worked the top portion of the catsuit in place, feeding her arms into the tight sleeves, down to the attached gloves, the suit wrapping around her neck for a double layer, inducing a little struggle to breath, which Karen simply loved!

She couldn’t believe how tight the suit was coming, minute after minute, as it tried to revert back to its rather small original width. She  ran her hands over her tightly encased breasts, squishing them, slightly moaning, then rubbing down her tight waist, to her hips and thighs, going back up, stopping at her crotch for a moment, before going back up, to her neck and her head. Every move, was a struggle. It was like she was wearing a non-stretch denim catsuit. Bending her arms was difficult, bending her legs was a challenge, but once bent, the suit would stretch to accommodate the position. Her breath was shaking.

“Amazing feeling, am I right?” asked Lynda, to which Karen could only nod yes, A big nod!

“Okay, now the… toys.” she said, producing the dildo.

She kneeled in front of Karen and opened the crotch zipper, revealing two rubber pouches. She pushed the vaginal one inside, feeding the urinal catheter through a small hole, then pushing in the large dildo inside, even taking the time to stroke it a few times, much to Karen’s dismay. She was getting hot!!

Then she took a rather large buttplug.

“I’m sorry, but the less air… inside, the less chance of being detected.” she said as she kneeled again pushed the rubber pouch inside her rectum and forced the large buttplug in.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fed an extremely low waist nourishing broth, and should have to go to the john’s for about a month, and if you ever get there, there’s a hole in the center of the plug to perform an enema… But since you’ll be back within ten days, no worries.” she said with a smile.

Then she approached Karen’s head, close to her rubber covered ear, and whispered.

“I’m the one who chose the plugs, and I should, ahem… warn you: there are heavy, non-metallic balls inside.” 

Karen giggled. That sounded like fun.

“Okay now, as I said, the less empty space, the less chances to be detected.” she said, producing a rather heavy rubber corset, wrapping it around Karen’s waist and lacing it, tightly, very tightly.

“I believe it’s a little smaller than what you’re used to wearing, but since you will be pretty much static, it’s not gonna be a problem.” she said, putting her knee in Karen’s back and tightening with all her strength. “Oof! That’s all I can take off for now, about 2cm to go. We’ll take care of the other stuff in the meantime then.” she said, taking two ankle-high ballet boots from another box.

“I chose those,” she mouthed to Karen. “Well… why not?” she said, with a devilish smile. “I came up with some medical excuse to have them accepted, and they bought it.” she said, putting them over Karen’s feet.

Karen’s brain was overwhelmed. First the catsuit which seemed to keep getting tighter, the tubes, the gasmask, the huge toys, the corset, now ballet boots, she was living a fetishist’s dream… so far.

Once the boots were on, she took the heavy faux-steel cuffs and wrapped a set around her ankles, knees, elbows and wrists. They were closing on themselves, one end entering the other, while clicks were heard, locking them in place. There was no apparent lock anywhere, and they were heavy, as heavy as if they were steel.

“A special device is required to take them off.” she said. “Also, the collar locks the collar of the suit in place, so, impossible to take off. Okay, how is that corset.” she said, pulling on the lacing again.

Karen felt her waist getting crushed beyond what she thought achievable. Then there was a long period where she simply felt Lynda working on the corset, being yanked back and forth a few times, before she walked in front of her, holding a bunch of lacing.

“The lacing has been replaced by a small faux-steel rod linking both sides like a zipper.” she said. “Less bulky than the lacing. Okay, the belt, now.” she said producing the chastity belt.

It fit tightly over Karen’s crushed waist and was locked the same way, with a tab entering a slot and clicking in place.

“Almost done.” said Lynda, taking rods of different length, reaching for her ankles, spreading her legs into a comfortable position. The rods also clicked in place, keeping her ankles rigid. Another rod at the knees, then between her elbows, keeping her arms behind her back, and linking her wrist cuffs to the side of her chastity belt.

The more clicks there were, the more rods were in place, the more restrained she became, the heavier her breathing. Damn, that felt so good! It was awesome.

She tried to move, to walk, but could barely make a step, her legs held rigid by the cuffs and the rods. Same with her upper body, crushed into a rigid corset and her arms rigidly held on each side of her waist. 

She wished she could stay like that for a while… Oh, wait… Right…

Lynda fetched a wheeled chair and helped Karen sit on it. She was then wheeled to another room, this one with the floor was made of hexagonal black and white tiles. In the rather small room, there was a bunch of equipment, computers and a large wooden crate, standing tall on its end. Lynda pushed the chair next to the crate and helped Karen stand up.

The Director was there.

“Good…  How do you feel… in there?” he asked, looking disturbed at the sight.

She tried to nod yes, her head not moving much, and gave two thumbs up.

“Good, good, then. Now, I will explain the… packing procedure.” he said, opening the crate, revealing an empty box, except for a few faux-steel blocks at the bottom. “These are the holders.” he said, pointing to the blocks. “You’ll be screwed to them, holding you inside the frame. Then, we will lay the cate down in its back, Lynda will attach the urine bag to your catheter and the small nourishing broth device to your feeding tube as well as connecting your breathing to an outside vent. The feeding is done totally mechanically, through a spring loaded pump. No electronic, and no metal.

Then the crate will be filled with a gel that will contract a little, protecting you and making the inside totally opaque to any scanning devices, except for these,” he said, showing what looked like cigarette packs. “To the scanner, it will look like a case of cigarettes. That’s how you’ll avoid detection.”

Both of them helped Karen get up and she wiggled her way, very small steps at a time, to the crate.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll grab you to put you inside, if you don’t mind.”

Whether she minded or not, she couldn’t do much. He grabbed her by the side of her waist and lifted her just enough so that she would go past the edge of the crate, until she was against the steel blocks. Those sharp movements made Karen realize how sensitive the weighted balls inside the toys were. She felt them. Very distinctively. 

Lynda went behind and she heard a power drill being used.

Her feet were drawn back rather abruptly, and they were rigidly held in place. Followed her knees, then her waist was yanked backward, her elbows and finally her neck.

She struggled, tried to move, to get out but it barely showed.

“You’ll be quite secured, Karen.” said Lynda, smiling.

Using an overhead winch, they lowered the crate down on its back. Lynda attached a urine bag to the catheter tube protruding at her crotch, and a large black box to the side of the crate, which she linked to her feeding tube. Then taking a hose from a nearby container, they began to fill the crate with the gel, which was, at this time, liquid and rather warm.

Karen felt all cozy as the warm thick liquid slowly engulfed her. She had a short moment of panic when it reached her gasmask, but she could still breathe easily. Her vision became blurry as the gel covered her mask lenses, and she saw them moving around, probably inserting those small boxes looking like cigarette packs inside the gel,, and then more gel was applied before they disappeared from her field of view.

She waited, being all comfortable, supported by the warm liquid, which she felt, was getting tighter. A lot tighter. In a rather short amount of time, the little wiggling she was able to do, like with her fingers, was totally taken away. She couldn’t move. At all! That felt so good!

She saw the shadows move over her, getting closer, checking her lifesigns, she hoped, before putting the lid down and screwing it shut.

She was in total darkness, totally deafened, her body suspended in a gel, totally immobile. She was feeling like she was floating. Damn! What a feeling. Total sensory deprivation.

Until the crate was moved. 

She was carried, loaded in a truck or something, on her back, head facing forward, and the heavy balls began their little dance, moving around, hitting the sides of their chamber, sending little jolts to the dildos, even the butt plug, banging against it, just enough to tease her. That made for a quite pleasurable ride.

Said ride lasted perhaps an hour or so, then she was moved again and put somewhere, she figured some kind of warehouse, and everything went… nothing.

She was there, simply floating in her hardened gel, unable to move a finger. She could feel the nourishing broth being pumped on regular intervals into her stomach. All she could hear, or rather feel, was her heart pounding at how she just loved the situation.

Being totally restricted was a dream come true. She had tried mummification, but even there, she could wiggle, as there was always some loose area somewhere. The vacbed had been nice, but one can struggle, the rubber springing you back in your original position. But with this severe rigid setup, enclosed in hardened gel, unable to move at all, not even wiggle her head even a tiny bit was totally awesome.

Oh, yes, she could, somehow, wiggle her nose inside her gasmask, but that wasn’t much.

She was in total darkness, soundproof, immobile. She quickly dozed off when she realized that, even by working her thigh muscles, she would achieve nothing.

She was awakened by a sharp jolt. The crate had been picked up, she figured by machinery or something. She was being moved and the ride was rough, awakening the heavy balls in her toys. That was welcomed. She felt them move around, teasing her.

Oh, if only they would… she was lowered and everything became silent again. She felt more little bumps, as if something was piled over her crate, then she was on the move.

The road was bumpy and she felt every bump. Well, her crotch felt most of it, again arousing her. There was a lot of stop and go, and each time, it gave her the strongest feeling, enough to get aroused.

Would she? Oh, just a few more abrupt stops, please. A railroad track! Oh damn!! That was enough. She couldn’t believe that such small stimulations could send her over the edge, and even more, it was followed by a very hard stop, which sent the heavy balls right up the top of the toys, hitting hard.

She launched, increased by the fact that she couldn’t move at all, it seemed that the orgasm echoed inside, amplified to an incredible power. She would breath hard, but the small hoses up her nose limited the intake, creating a small panic, increasing again the power of the orgasm.

She screamed, but no sound was produced, only in her head, in her body.

There were many more stops, but it only kept her after-orgasm going, and, again, she was unloaded and the immobility. The apparent rest, was welcomed, and the road was smooth for a long time, only getting sideways movements. She figured she was on a highway.

A long while later, she was moved again, unloaded and waited in a warehouse. The next time she was picked up, the handling was far from delicate. She was dropped, laid on her side, even head down, as if the handlers were unable to read the up arrows.

All this wreaked havoc in her tight confinement. The disorientation from her sensory deprivation, mixed with the numerous jolts, all while she couldn’t do anything, only endure, was pure joy! The last hard drop, as if timed perfectly, sent her to the moon.

Well, technically, she stayed well immobile inside her gel filled crate, but her brain traveled as her crotch was on fire.

And everything went silent. After a long while, she could only feel some slow movements from the heavy ball, forward, backward, forward, backward. She tried to imagine where she was. It didn’t feel like an airplane. A ship, perhaps. Damn, she was being sent far away!

Having no sense of time, and only being slowly rocked by the waves, she slept most of the time, although she was constantly aroused, teased by her toys, but it never went farther. It was like smelling your favorite food, but never being able to taste it. Devilish.

(Note: Really, guys. How do you describe/write four days of travel encased in a dark crate, unable to move, unable to see, unable to hear, and make it “pleasurable”? Took me three days of brainstorming to come up with this, so… work with me here…)

After all that teasing, the jerky movements from when she was unloaded sent her in orbit, and hopefully, she would have some time to relax, but instead, she was jerked some more and loaded in a weird way, leaning head down partially, then being rocked from side to side, bumped up and down. Whatever the transport was, it was careless and the roads were in very bad shape.

But being upside down, even partially, kept the heavy weight in the tip of her toys, slamming inside their little tubes hard against. She orgasmed. Once. The second time quickly came after. Damn, she was feeling a third one growing. That was too much. It would hurt, and as it was launching, everything stopped, which triggered the most powerful orgasm of all.

She was struggling hard, trying to move. She wanted out, she wanted… oh damn. She didn’t know what she wanted, this was so good.

Again, there was some rough handling and she was unceremoniously dropped down, hard, making her orgasm culminate into the most powerful firework ever felt.

She didn’t move for a short while and then she heard power tools around her, and light shone through the now foggy gel. She saw shadows working around her, removing the gel. She felt the pressure decrease as large pieces of the gel were removed.

She was put upright and unscrewed from her anchors as a man was holding her. He looked puzzled, amazed. He was wearing camo printed clothes. He turned her around and yanked on her restraints, on the bars holding her still. Finally, he grabbed her firmly over her elbow and dragged her along.

Karen struggled to walk, wiggling as best as she could, but it was not enough for him. She ended up being more or less dragged from what looked like a garage to a richly furnished house, with tiled floors and large windows giving an impressive view of the sea. The sun was high and shining and she realized at the same time that she had completely lost track of time.

A nicely dressed man, heavily built, approached her, smiling.

“Ah…” he said, looking at her up and down. “I was expecting you. Not this way, but I was expecting you.” he said. “However, your… contact had a slight accident..” he said with a devilish smile, pointing to his left, to an opened glass door where Karen could see a body laying on its back, a large pool of blood underneath, and bloody hand streaks on the windows of the door. “Now, you’ll just give me what I want and I’ll let you go.” he said, laughing, looking at Karen’s setup.

However, Karen couldn’t do anything. She was tightly encased into a tight catsuit, locked in as hard as steel polymer restraints, for which she didn’t have the key, or the device to unlock herself.

She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak. She tried to gesture, to point to her crotch, because that’s where the memory card was but, that was assuming HE had the way to retrieve it.

So, her eyes just looked around, trying to assimilate the place, to try to make up a plan to escape… yeah, right… escaping.

“Oh, well… you’re of no use to me, then. It’s a shame you did all this travel for nothing.” he said, producing a handgun, pointing it at Karen and before she could react, she felt a sharp blow on her chest and she flew backward, hitting a wall and collapsing on the ground.

Hurting, panting, she couldn’t do much, impaired as she was. She thought that a bullet would feel differently. The man in the camo suit picked her up by her elbow rod and roughly pulled her back up. The gun wielding man was smiling and laughing at the same time, approaching Karen and putting a hand where the bullet had hit her.

“Really That was true? Bulletproof? That is neat…”

“Hey, boss, what’s this?” said another man, who was kneeling by the dead man’s body. He showed a small 2cm X 1cm block, one side half-pipe shaped.

“Let me see this… “ he said, grabbing Karen and turning her around. He fondled with the rods and her arms felt suddenly free.

“Oh, so that’s the key to the rod but apparently, not for the cuffs. Now that you can speak with your hands, tell me where the memory chip is or I swear the next bullet is going to go through whatever this is.” he said, touching her catsuit.

Karen put her hand on her chastity belt and tried to yank the front portion, pointing to her crotch.

“You’re kidding. It’s hidden there? That’s clever…and gross.” he said, trying to open the chastity belt with the same key. The other side of the block had a hole, which he put over the lock of the belt. It opened.

He kneeled down and slowly opened the zipper, expecting to be splashed by body fluid, but he was glad to see that they  had taken the time to put a latex pouch in it. He slowly pulled out the dildo.

Karen moaned. In response, he pushed it back in. Karen moaned again. So, for a time, he gently played with her, pulling the dildo out, pushing it back in. The camo guy was laughing. Karen was moaning, putting her hand to her crotch, but the camo guy grabbed her hands and locked them in her back with the elbow rod.

“You’re a little horny woman. Well, to accept to be dressed like that and being shipped into a crate, you have to be.” said the man with a devilish smile. “Okay, what do we have here?” he said, pulling the dildo out and looking at it, easily finding the memory module.

“Ah, thank you, my dear.” he said, then looking at the camo guy. “Put her in the basement and…” he said, making a devilish smile, “make sure she won’t run away. I’ll see what I’ll do with her after looking at this.” he said, walking away, but not before handing the empty dildo back to the camo man who gladly put it back in and locked the chastity belt back.

A few minutes later, Karen was in the basement, tied with the rods in the same fashion as if she was in the crate, sitting on the ground, her collar linked high with a chain to the concrete wall, so high that she could only sit, and with her legs bound by the rods, she was unable to change her position, to kneel and of course, totally unable to get up.

Her chest hurt with each breath where the bullet had hit. The corset spread most of the impact, nonetheless, it hit hard, he was pretty much point blank when he fired.

After quite some time, she began to squirm. Her whole weight was resting on her chastity belt, pushing the dildo. That was annoying, disturbing, uncomfortable.and her thoughts were light years away from sexual pleasure, wondering what would happen to her.

The camo man walked back, unhooked her chain from the wall and simply scooped her to bring her back upstairs where he put her down in front of the leading man. The body of her supposed contact had been removed and someone was wiping off the blood trail.

“Well, Karen… Yes, I know your name. I know a lot of stuff, darling. As I was saying, your government denies knowing you, so, technically, you do not exist, meaning… I can do whatever I wish with you. I never had the fantasy to have a rubber bound slave at my service, but… why not give it a try. What do you say?”

She didn’t really have a choice.

Two months have passed. She was standing by the pool, ankles linked with a short chain, her hands tied in her back, a serving tray fixed to her corseted waist, hanging from small chains locked to0 her collar, passing drinks to the people John had invited into his mansion.

She was trying to get as much information on his activities as possible, but so far, she hadn’t been able to get much, only that his name was John and the camo guy was Bill. He was never talking business with her around.

For the rest, she had mixed feelings. Being a rubber bound slave, who’s only reward was sexe, had been one of her fantasies. John would fill her holes with toys, some more pleasurable than others, and from time to time, he would fill it with his own manhood, tying her spread eagle on the bed and screwing her hard. He found that he liked the touch of latex when having sex, so much that his regular girls began to wear latex around., Some even walked on ballet heels.

Her other situation would have been to be back home, with her regular 9 to 5 desk job, analyzing data, in street clothes.

Having the choice… her thoughts were cut short by a programmed vibration pattern on her dildo, meaning that John was calling her to the house.

She hobbled her way around, trying not to spill any of the expensive wine and other beverage on her serving tray, impaired by her ballet boots, her arms in her back, elbow tied and her rigid corset, and the vibration pattern, arousing her to the point where she had to work hard not to climax because… every drop of liquid in the glasses would be spread all around, and she would be severely punished.

As she approached the glass doors of the house, she heard someone laugh, a woman’s voice, a voice she thought she recognized.

As she passed the door, she froze. There she was, in full leather: LYNDA!!

Suddenly, she knew how John had so much knowledge about her.

Suddenly, she knew she would never be rescued.

Then again, when one is removed from its dream life, it is not a rescue.

She bowed to her mistress. The Real Big Boss.

© monsterp63

May 17, 2021


For those curious: How a story like that develops.

It first started as an image, from a fetish clip, with the caption “she’s a secret agent, being trained at not to reveal information while she gets more and more tied up.”

And I said to myself “hey, Karen can be a secret agent, but that bondage training is boring. I mean, Karen derives pleasure at being more and more restrained. How can this be torture to her?. How about she’s an agent sent to a mission, enclosed in some crate, in latex and…”

So, I began to write. The base story, the meeting where I had to find why she was getting sent “crated”, the memory module bit and stuff. As I wrote, the suit and devices appeared. At first, the Director was to put her up in the suit, then I thought “nah. He wouldn’t do that. A doctor would do, or a nurse… What about Lynda?” And Lynda was written in, and as I wrote her, I suggested where the pictures came from, which would explain why latex, corset and sex toys were chosen as Lynda was also a heavy latex fetishist.

Okay, she’s sent to some country, delivers the module and is shipped back, coming back to work wearing latex, ready for her next assignment. Sounds good.

But, writing four days of being totally immobile and sensory deprived took its toll. What the heck do I write, without being redundant, writing she’s having an orgasm every two lines.

I had to sleep over this, over the course of a few days. What if her contact has been discovered? What if he’s unable to send her back? What if he’s a fraud?

As I was writing the scene where she’s unboxed, I was also making images, and the idea of killing her contact took form. But with her contact killed, he had no key, no way to take her out of her restraints, and no way to access the memory module. Hum… trouble in the neighbourhood…

At first, he was to keep her as a rubber slave for as long as she wouldn’t give her the memory module, but that ending was looking lame.

I slept over it and went to write it and, as it often happens, it wrote itself, where he found the unlocking module, but which only works on the rods and belt, not on her other restraints, keeping her in the suit with easy means of tying her up.

And at the same time, it felt weird, that he seemed so knowledgeable about all of this. How did he know that much? That didn’t sound right, but what to do?

I had to write a finale. Okay, she’s serving drinks by the pool and he’s happy to have her as his personal latex slave… Nah… boring. And it doesn’t take of how he knew so much.

I began to write it anyway and then, Lynda appeared in my thoughts: she already knew about Karen’s fantasies, although she had been written as a fellow fetishist.

A few changes and I made Lynda a Dom and the end was completed.

So, that’s how you write a fetish story.

Sort of.

The last image took 12 hours to render, because of the reflections in the windows, which gave me the time to proof-read the story and write this little “making of”.

I hope you liked it.

Pierre.

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2 thoughts on “Karen – Secret Agent

  1. “(Note: Really, guys. How do you describe/write four days of travel encased in a dark crate, unable to move, unable to see, unable to hear, and make it “pleasurable”? Took me three days of brainstorming to come up with this, so… work with me here…)”

    -> Lydia said right before they closed the box: Have you noticed that your nose is itching… 😉

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