Note: I had marked up 27 scenes I wanted to render. Yes, TWENTY-SEVEN!
Of course, doing them all would have taken a month or so… I got them down to a few, and in my rush, I may have done some mishmash of them. Just take them for what they are, some visual of the story, not the actual story.
And for some of those images I made for this story, I like to believe that some of them are the “hottest” and most sensual I made. But you’d be the judge of that. You figure which ones…
The car stopped on the badly lit narrow street, all lights off. Inside the car, two persons, one man, the driver, and one woman, the passenger.
“It’s that house.” he said, pointing in the distance.
“Yes… but you know, I’m not a thief. I don’t know how…”
“Listen. You wanted the money, you got your money. Now, I want it back. Go to that house, and copy the file I told you from the computer and get out. They’re not home. They’re at the art gallery opening. You have four hours to do the job. That would make a payment on what you owe me.” he said, trying to sound friendly.
“A… A payment? But I thought that this would clear my debt.”
“Clear your debt? You borrowed five grans. You really believe that this simple operation is worth five grans? Now, enough arguing. You get that file or I’ll put you on the corner of Main St. and the 6th..”
She swallowed. She knew what that meant: she would become a hooker. His hooker, and she knew that if she became one of his hookers, she would never get free.
She ran away from her difficult home when she was a teenager, and lived off the street for a few years. She was lucky not to fall into any drug abuse or in the wrong hands. Until she had that tip. She needed five thousand dollars. She would get 10 times that within a week. Easy stuff. It was a sure thing. But she didn’t have the money, so she went to this guy, Phil, to borrow what she needed.
And now, the problem is that her sure thing sank and she lost it all. But Phil still wants his money back, with interests. She wondered if she would ever be able to pay him back. But for now, she had no choice.
Almost shaking, on the verge of crying, she got out of the car and headed for the house. She had to go through another lot to reach said house, going through a thick hedge. She emerged on the other side and looked for her reference point. The window should be open. That was the first clue. She approached the house, carefully, trying to hide into the darkness as much as she could. But she was no professional thief. Her jeans, jacket and sneakers, although black, were nothing to be stealthy.
She worked the window.
“Damn! It’s locked.” she said to herself.
She took a pocket knife and tried to work the mechanism like Phil taught her. After a long time, she heard a click and the window slightly opened. She quickly grabbed it and pushed up on it, gently, until it was wide opened. She pulled herself up, climbing the ledge, and silently let herself drop on the other side. She listened. No sound. And no light. Everything was dark. That was good.
Her phone emitted a notification sound. She reached into her back pocket and flipped the little switch to put it into silent mode without checking the message. That was not important anyway. She had a job to do.
Slowly, carefully, she walked to the room door giving to the corridor. Yes, it was like Phil described. At the end of the corridor, to the left. The computer should be there. There were no passwords. She simply has to insert the USB key in it, copy the file, then run back out.
That was the plan.
She walked down the corridor, her sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor. She nonetheless tried to make as little noise as possible. She cracked open the door and raised her eyebrows.
She was expecting to see some kind of home office but that room was dark with red lighting, creating an eerie atmosphere. Her phone vibed, but she let it go. She quickly opened the door, got into the room and silently closed the door behind her, and startled.
On one side, was that huge steel framed bed, with chains hanging from it. Not far, some kind of whipping bench. There was some sort of X frame with steel rings. Her phone vibed again.
“What the hell is this? A dungeon or something? And where is the fucking computer?” she asked herself, mumbling, as she looked where the computer should be, according to Phil, only to face a series of shelves filled with leather and steel cuffs, collars, whips, and sex toys.
She heard a noise, like a creaking. She turned around. There, on that wall, was a woman, or a woman’s body, stretched on the wall, chained to it, restrained, a steel belt going under her crotch. At first, she froze, she had been seen by whatever that was, but she noticed the blindfold, and also that there were no lips to be seen, only a black shiny square.. She was squirming, humming sounds being heard coming from… her crotch.
“Oh fuck!” said Karen frozen in place, shocked by the sight of that woman, slowly squirming, the red lights reflecting off her shiny skin, like a worm under the rain.
She approached her, like hypnotized by the sight, the red shiny latex of her suit sparkling in the red eerie light of the room. She felt attracted to it. She looked up at her face: she was blindfolded, so evidently, unaware of her presence. She extended a hand, ready to touch the tight latex encased thigh, stopping millimeters from it, hesitating, shaking.
“May I help you with anything?”
She turned around and was facing a man, wearing an equally shiny skin, but his head uncovered, simply standing there. He wasn’t menacing, but…damn! What the heck was going on? The house was supposed to be empty.
She grabbed grabbed her phone to send a help message, until she saw the repeating text message she had been received displayed:
“You’re in the wrong house! Get the fuck out of there!”
Mouth agape, she looked at the phone, then at the man, at the woman hanging off the wall, then at the phone again, eyes about to pop out of her head. She heard the squeaking sound of rubber behind her. The man made a step forward.
That was just too much. Her eyes rolled upward and she fainted.
She was hearing strange sounds. Steel clinking sounds and something rubbery, squeaking. It sounded like… chains, and it was getting closer.
Laying on her side, she blinked, opening her eyes. The sun was out and the sudden light hurt. But as she blinked, she didn’t recognize the place. This wasn’t Phil’s place. Something moved in front of her. She saw legs, or what she believed was legs, shiny, red, the feet ending in… damn. Where were the feet? It was only something pointing down! And shackles. Steel shackles linked with a chain.
“Fuck!” she managed to say, her memory lighting up.
She remembered the night, the house, that dungeon or whatever it was, that strange creature squirming on the wall and… now.
She was laying on a couch, comforter over her. She quickly sat and saw the creature to its full extent. It was a woman, as far as she could tell, covered in shiny rubber, her mouth hidden behind some kind of flap. She could only see her eyes.
The … woman, raised her hands, also linked with steel cuffs and chains, at waist level. Karen noticed how thin her waist was, crushed under a tight leather corset. She made a gesture to calm down.
“Oh my gawd!” said Karen, quickly getting up. “Are you okay? Do you need help? Do you want me to call the cops? Who is holding you here prisoner? Is it Phil?” she asked as fast as a Gatling gun would shoot.
The shoulders of the woman in latex shook, up and down, and by the holes for her eyes in the rubber hood, she could see small wrinkles. She was laughing. Wait. She was laughing?
She pointed toward the kitchen, making an inviting gesture. Karen wasn’t sure, but the woman was insisting. Hesitantly, Karen went on, walking slowly, passing on the same corridor, in front of that dungeon door. The woman in latex was following, pressing some button fixed to the steel belt circling her tiny waist.
Karen stopped at the dungeon door and looked inside. Yes, it was that, and there was no one on the wall. The woman simply waited, gently inviting Karen to go on. She led her to the kitchen where the woman pulled out a chair from the dining table and invited Karen, always with clear and calm gestures, to sit down.
She walked to the counter, her rubber creaking, and her steel restraints clinking. Karen was amazed at how tight her rubber skin was. Not a single wrinkle. It was as if it literally was her skin. She found herself wondering… how it felt like and if she would like it.
The woman pointed at the coffee maker while looking at Karen, evidently asking if she would like a coffee.
“Oh! Coffee? Yes, YES. Definitely. Black. Very black.” she said. She needed something to wake her brain up, and the stronger the better.
The woman in latex brought her the hot beverage. Karen could hear the latex almost screaming with every movement, but the woman didn’t seem to mind. She walked back to the counter and took some eggs and some slices of bread, picked them up with her latex coated hands and showed them to Karen.
“Damn… Yes, but… I… I don’t want to be of any trouble.” said Karen. “Phil… Damn… Phil must be looking for me. Shit! I’m screwed.” she said, her hands beginning to shake.
The woman in latex turned around and began to manipulate pans and stuff as if she was totally free, turning on the stove and frying the eggs.
Karen was frozen for a moment, holding the cup of coffee mid way between the table and her mouth, wandering what to do, being there, serviced by some rubber freak slave or something, and Phil who will want to cut her head off… or worst, putting her on the street to become a hooker!
She was taken out of her daydream nightmare by the plate filled with eggs, toasts, bacon and roasted potatoes.
She began to eat, shaking, nervous, when she heard the front door of the house open. Startled, afraid, she looked. Phil? That’s it? That woman was one of the previous girls working for Phil and she ended up in this predicament? She spotted the backdoor of the kitchen and was ready to run. A man appeared. In uniform. A cop!
“You called the fucking cops on me?” yelled Karen, looking at the woman who was trying to calm her down. “Fuck you!” she said, getting up, making a run for the door, but it was locked.
Panicking, she turned around. The woman was on her, and the man was getting closer.
“Stop! We want to help you. This is our home.” said the cop.
Karen suddenly recognized the voice, the face of last night. She stood there, her body tensed, her mind struggling between running away and staying. How could they help her? By turning her into a latex doll?
“Please,” said the man, his face smiling, warm, caring. “Please, sit down and eat your breakfast. I’m sure you need it, and tell me, tell us, everything”
“Please, let me go. I don’t want to become a hooker. Please, I got the wrong house. Please, let me go.” she said.
“You… what? Calm down. Come sit down.” he said, pulling the chair, inviting her to sit down.
“Just sit here and we will talk, okay? I mean you no harm… Now, tell me. What is this all about? Wrong house? Becoming a hooker?”
Karen sat down, alternately looking at one and the other, eyes wide, then she somewhat exploded, spilling everything in one long sentence, like puking out spoiled food, she explained her whole ordeal, noticing the woman in latex sitting back in a concerto of latex and steel sounds.
“… so, you see, I hit the wrong house. I… Please let me go.”
“Ow… That’s a lot to process.” he said, stunned by all she said at once. “So, this… Phil. How much do you owe him?”
“Five thousand dollars… Well… that’s the amount I borrowed. He won’t tell me how much it is with the, you know… interests.” said Karen.
“Oh… I like that.” he said, Karen made wide eyes. “No, no, not your situation, but Phil. We’ve been trying to get our hands on him for eons, but he’s too clever to hide everything. Would you be willing to… press charges? This is definitely extortion, and he’s forcing you to do criminal activities to pay him back. That’s even better. So, would you press charges?”
“What? Press charge against Phil? No way! He has, you know, people. They will find me and they will hurt me, probably even kill me so I won’t testify. No. No way I’m pressing charges against Phil.” said Karen, visibly afraid.
“We can put you into the witness protection program if it’s necessary… what?” he said looking at the woman in latex.
Karen looked at her too. She was gesturing, making signs with her hands, like the deafs/mutes are doing.
“You’re sure about that, Lynda?” he asked.
She nodded yes and spoke some more with her hands.
“Well, if you say so,” he said, before turning to Karen. “Let me introduce ourselves. This is Lynda, my wife, and I’m…”
His speech was cut short by a call on the radio. He answered that everything was fine, then went back to Karen.
“Where was I? Oh, right. Lynda and myself are offering you shelter and protection, right here, in our home, until the whole ordeal is over, and hopefully, Phil is behind bars. Honestly, I suspect you don’t have much place to go, don’t you?” he asked.
Karen realized that the only place she could go was Phil’s place. Not the best of places if she’s going to press charges. Other than that, it was on the streets. What choice did she have? Not much.
“You’re right on one thing: I have nowhere else to go.” she said, lowering her head, thinking hard where she could go, and finding nothing. Well… I think I can stay here for a while, but I don’t want to be of any trouble. Hell, I’m already in trouble: Phil will want my head if I don’t show up, and if I do show up, he’s gonna want my head because I goofed last night… so… shit! I don’t know what to do.”
“Then staying here it is,” he said.
He smiled and the woman quickly clapped her hands together, making slapping latex sounds mixed with the rattling chains. It sounded weird. After clapping, the woman raised the index of her right hand then pointed at her husband.
“Yes, of course, Lynda. We have one strict ruler here. Well, in fact, Lynda has one strict rule: everybody staying in the house must wear latex.” he said, with a smile.
“Riiight.” said Karen, thinking it was a joke.
She looked at Lynda, who was nodding yes, then to her husband who had undone some buttons of her uniform shirt, to reveal a black latex skin.
“And I happily oblige to that rule,” he said with a smile, before buttoning his shirt back.
“Well, listen. I have to get back on patrol now. I’m leaving you with Lynda. Finish your breakfast and think about it. Lynda will take care of you. I’ll be back for dinner. If you’re still here, we’ll talk about pressing charges against Phil. If not, I wish you the best of luck and if you need any help, just knock on the door. We’ll be there for you.”
Lynda got back up, her heels clicking on the tiled floor, and walked to the dungeon, to come back with something Karen recognized: her phone. She handed it to her.
She picked it up. She had about a dozen missed calls, all from Phil, and countless text messages. She felt an anxiety attack coming up. Damn. She was scared just by reading the threatening text messages. She looked at Lynda, evidently enjoying her predicament. She couldn’t deny that she was intrigued by that latex stuff, by the corset, by those extreme heels, that she wanted to try it herself. Wait… Really? What the fuck was wrong with her? She looked at her phone, at Lynda and at the cop who had got up and was heading for the door.
“Wait!” said Karen.
She punched a few keys on the phone and handed it to him.
“There, it’s unlocked. Can it be of any help?”
“You have no idea! See you tonight.” he said, smiling. She swore that, as he walked out the door, he was whistling.
She turned to Lynda who was almost jumping in place, evidently happy, hands clasp at chin level, her eyes conveying a large smile.
As soon as he had left the house, Lynda hobbled to Karen and grabbed her hand. The touch was weird. The latex was warm, and she was also touching the steel cuff. Lynda pulled on Karen’s hand to follow and she led her to the dungeon, to a wall of mirrors, where she opened a hidden door, revealing a large walk-in closet, filled with stuff.
Karen could see, on her left, a large rack, filled with catsuits, dresses, shirts, pants, skirts, of different colors. On the right, more catsuits, pants and shirts but those were definitely more aimed at a man than a woman. Further back but on the same side as the men’s clothes, a series of shelf with mannequin head displaying various latex and leather hoods, some looking quite amusing, like a cat or just plain, and some much more scary looking, with belt buckles, closed mouth, or severe head harness with large gags and blindfolds, and even some gas masks. Straight in the back, a wall full of footwear, from shoes to boots, all of them with high heels, even some manly looking boots with a 10cm block heel. In the middle, some kind of island shelves, filled with collars, cuffs, etc.
Lynda let go of Karen’s hand to browse the latex clothes rack, which left Karen with her own thoughts, looking at the devices, the collars, the head harnesses. Lynda tapped on Karen’s shoulder and began to talk with her signs, but Karen stopped her.
“I’m sorry… I don’t understand… this.” she said, pointing at Lynda’s hands.
Lynda put her hands at her mouth, in a “oops, sorry” gesture, and then picked up a garment, pointing at it, then at Karen, then making a thumbs up/down sign. Karen understood that she was actually asking what she thought about it.
She was shown different items, but each time, Karen only shuddered, not knowing what to answer. She never wore anything like that before, so she didn’t really know what to choose. Lynda understood the situation and, making a “wait a minute” sign, picked up a few items and walked out of the closet, putting everything on a nearby latex bondage bed, then gestured to Karen to get undressed.
She stood there, mouth agape, looking in the void. Would she undress in front of a stranger… in a strange outfit… in an even stranger room… of a stanger’s house? She looked at the pile of rubber items and didn’t move.
Lynda hobbled her way out of the room, toward the kitchen. She heard the chain rattle and the latex creaking going away then coming back toward the dungeon. This time, she was holding an electronic tablet and she was typing on it, then as she reached Karen, she handed it out to her.
“I fully understand your situation and what you’re thinking. What’s with this weirdo in latex asking me to wear some. I’ll leave them here. WHEN, and IF you feel ready to TRY IT, just do so. I would really like you to try it: it’s awesome!”
Karen read the message, then looked up at Lynda, which simply did a little bow before heading out of the dungeon.
Karen stood there, looking at the room, the garments, the latex, the leather, the straps. She thought about her situation, what brought her here, and what the outcome is… or could be.
She heard running water and other noises coming from the kitchen. Slowly, she walked out to see what was going on: Lynda was filling a bucket of water and gathering the mop and some rags. She was about to do house chores all in rubber, all chained up!
As she turned around, Lynda saw Karen standing there and stopped for a tenth of a second before resuming her chores, as if Karen wasn’t there anymore.
All sorts of thoughts were running through Karen’s mind. About her past life, about her present situation, about… the future?? Having nothing else to do, she walked back to the dungeon. But why back to the dungeon, she asked herself, when she could have gone to the living room and lay on the couch. Why did she feel compelled to return to the pile of latex garments? Why was she shivering when looking at the leather harnesses? Why was she having that weird butterfly in her stomach when looking at the multiple bondage devices around her?
Why? Just… why?
She picked one of the latex items. It was a purple long sleeved leotard with a high collar and a front zipper going through the crotch. It felt strange. Cold. The smell struck her nostrils. Why was she shaking? She picked another item, well two in fact: a baby-pink latex bra and latex panties. Lastly, a black latex skirt.
She realized at the same time that the items Lynda had chosen were not to engulf her in rubber. There was no hood, no gloves, no stockings.
She looked behind her, at the opened door, expecting Lynda to be spying on her, but there was no one. She could still hear the mix of rubber creaking, chains rattling and the mop and bucket noises coming from the kitchen. There was no way Lynda could sneak on her: much too noisy.
Shaking, she undressed, taking her sneakers off, then her skinny jeans and finally her T-shirt. She took the latex bra and tried it over her worned-out cotton bra, just to see the fit. The touch of latex through some holes of her bra made her shiver, but mostly wondered what it would feel like.
She took her regular bra off and wrapped the latex one over her breasts. The cold feeling of the first touch of the latex made her breath through her teeth, but it quickly warmed up. She adjusted the fit and slowly rubbed them, feeling the rubber, feeling the warmth of her hands through it, yet not feeling her hands. That felt weird. The support was good and she liked the touch of latex.
She slowly ran her index fingers in circles around her nipples, scratching the latex with her nails, feeling the light touch, the pressure, the tickling. She giggled.
She took her panties off and put on the latex panties
That was a similar feeling. Cold at first, then quickly warming up. She rubbed her finger against the crotch, feeling it. It was quite pleasurable. She was smiling, even humming.
The sound of glass shattering coming from the kitchen took her out of her daydream, or was it day pleasure. She had a peek outside the room, toward the kitchen. She saw Lynda walk, hobbling her way, holding a broom and dustpan, evidently pissed off.
Karen, now out of her pleasure dream, looked at the other latex items. She picked the dark blue leotard and slowly slid down the zipper before putting her feet inside the leg holes, slowly bringing it back up until it rested on her crotch. She proceeded to put her left arm through the sleeve. The latex was thick and rather tight. She struggled and figured that some kind of lubricant would have helped. She tugged on the rubber until her hand popped off at the other end, then she put her right arm in the sleeve and repeated the procedure. She then worked it up over her shoulders, which pulled rather hard on the crotch portion. That thing was made for someone with a shorter torso. Nonetheless, the pull at her crotch was… pleasurable.
She grabbed the zipper and slowly pulled it up, having to bring each side closer with one hand as the garment was somewhat too small for her, but the latex simply stretched and she wondered if being this tight wasn’t exactly done on purpose, for a very second skin fit. It squished her stomach in, almost like a corset. Each breath was a struggle, but somehow, she didn’t exactly dislike it.
She pulled the zipper up to her breasts, where they were getting squeezed and pulling it up became quite difficult.
It felt like her breasts were being massaged, squished, encased and very well supported by the now two layers of rubber. She pulled the zipper up to just below her neck.
She took the black latex skirt. That was an easy fit, just step in and pull it over the thin waist, helped kept thinner by the tight, constricting leotard.
She rubbed her outfit with her hands, getting all the wrinkles out… as if there were any. Everything was smooth and shiny. She raised her head and catched a glimpse of what she looked like in the mirror. She was stunned. And she was stunning.
Her naked feet seemed to break the overall look. She turned around and looked at the walk-in closet. Her eyes were attracted by those long brown leather boots, with a bunch of holes in them. Slowly, fingers shaking, she took them in her hands, feeling the fine leather, slowly running her finger along the tall and thin heel. She never wore anything like that. Hell, even those sneakers, those wedge sneakers she was wearing, were pretty much the highest she had come to, and these were…enforced by Phil.
But somehow, she was attracted to those high heels. She looked toward the corridor, expecting to see Lynda, but she wasn’t there. The chain rattle could still be heard coming from the kitchen.
She sat down and put the left boot over her feet, her leg. The smooth silky satin lining brushed against her leg. She liked the feeling. Her foot slid down easily, reaching the smaller ankle portion, then entered the foot part of the boot, settling in place. She felt the leather wrap her foot, creaking in the process.
She laced the cuff wrapping the ankle portion, tightening the boot over her foot.
Breath shaking, she proceeded with her right foot. The more her legs were encased, the better she felt. Weird.
She grabbed a hold of the nearest table and slowly got herself up.
That was strange, getting up, standing on those tall heels. She was afraid to fall off, but the boot felt sturdy and holding.
Carefully, she let go of the table, raising her back straight, putting her full weight on her feet, then trying to transfer her center of gravity toward her heels. That was something new to experience.
She slowly balanced back and forth, getting accustomed to the feeling, then she tried one small step, ready to catch whatever was near at the slightest sign of falling down, but she didn’t need any. The first step went smoothly. Then the second one. Those were small steps, but they were getting bigger. As she reached the room door, she was almost making normal stroll lengths.
She turned into the corridor. Hearing the sounds of the heel clicking was weird, especially knowing that it came from her. She was making that distinctive high heel sound.
She approached the kitchen, entering, shy, unsecured.
Lynda had apparently finished cleaning the mess she had done by dropping some glass. She was turning around, probably to put the broom back where it belonged when she saw Karen. She stopped dead and let the broom fall off her hand, then quickly applauded at Karen who was looking down at herself, rubbing her outfit.
“How is it?” asked Karen.
Lynda raised a sharp two thumbs up.
“I… I hope you don’t mind the boots.” added Karen.
Lynda answered with the “perfect” sign, and a thumb up. Then she began to talk with sign languages then stopped, remembering that Karen couldn’t comprehend. She paused for a few seconds, then with both hands, she pointed straight at Karen’s eyes, then moved her hands to follow Karen’s curves, then made her left hand with a thumb up and her right hand with a thumb down. Evidently, asking Karen what she thought of it.
“Uh?.. Oh… It’s interesting. I don’t dislike it. It’s… something to get used to.” said Karen, slowly rubbing her right arm with her left hand, feeling the tight rubber, liking the tingling the touch was sending to her brain.
Lynda made two thumbs up, then crouched down to grab the broom and the dust bucket back, picked them up, straightened herself up and walked to Karen, handing them the items.
Hesitantly, Karen picked them up in her hands.
“You… You want me to clean something?” she asked.
Lynda nodded no and pointed to a tall but narrow cabinet door behind Karen.
“Oh, you want me to store them away, right?”
Lynda nodded yes. Karen executed. She realized as she was reaching the broom closet, about six paces away, that she had walked on her extreme heels almost without noticing it. She knew she had to walk differently, but it wasn’t a challenge, a chore. She had no problem with it. Those high heels were not that hard to conquer, after all. She was puzzled at how they are so talked down in the media and among people: these heels were quite easy to walk on.
She helped Lynda with a few more chores. Each time she was stretching her arm to grab something, she felt the tug of the tight latex and she would marvel at the shining light reflecting on it. She often found herself slowly rubbing her arm, feeling the tight rubber wrapping it. Liking the touch. Liking the feeling.
She was also looking at Lynda, struggling to do pretty much everything, her breath short by the corset, impaired by her chains, the collar. She would often pause, just stand straight and breath for some time, waiting for her breaths to become calmer, slower, before resuming. She never seemed to complain, to ask to be taken out of her predicament, if it was a predicament. Could all this be self-inflicted? By choice? Even walking on her toes?
Once the chores were apparently done, trying as she might while she was dusting as there was no dust to be picked up, Lynda hobbled her way to the dungeon. She walked into the walk-in closet to a black wooden box. She opened it. It had two compartments: one lined with red velvet, and another one with green velvet. She reached into the green compartment and picked up a key. She used that key to remove the locks holding her wrist chain and hobble chain. She hung the chains with the others, in order of length, put the padlocks and key back into the green compartment and then picked up a few padlocks from the red compartment.
She walked out of the closet to the dungeon, grabbing a harness of leather on her way to a heavy wooden post, resting her back to it. She bent down and linked her ankle cuffs to a ring at the bottom of the post with one padlock, then did the same with her collar before putting the leather harness over her eyes, harness including a flap over her eyes, blinding herself. She locked the buckles with more of those red padlocks. Then she put her hands on her back and fondled with them for a while, evidently struggling before Karen heard another click of a padlock. Then she tried to walk away, only restrained by the ankle link, steel collar and her wrists now linked together in her back AND to a ring on the post. She would not go anywhere.
Karen stood there in amazement. Why would she do that?
She slowly approached and looked at the setup. It was actually the first time she could get a close look at Lynda’s outfit. The latex was obviously very tight. Not a wrinkle anywhere, even in the armpits. It was almost like it was her skin. It was also very shiny as she could see her reflection in it. The only wrinkles were where her arms were slightly folded, and those wrinkles give the impression that the suit was quite thick.
The steel cuffs were welded shut! There was no way she would take them off. And more, they appeared to be glued to her suit, so they wouldn’t slip off. That was severe.
The black panel at her mouth also appeared to be glued to her suit. She was evidently breathing through small tubes coming out of her nose, meaning that the larger tube coming out of her mouth was… for eating?
And then there was the corset, made out of thick black leather. There were lacing at the back but from what Karen could see, they seemed to be made of some kind of resin, because they were rigid, meaning that there was no easy way to take the corset out. As if she could with the steel chastity belt circling it. Although that last item was not welded shut but had a padlock.
Karen’s eyes looked down, at the thighs, red and shiny, wrapped tightly inside the thick rubber, down to her feet, laced down inside extreme ballet heels booties. Their lacing too seemed to be made out of resin. She figured that they had been soaked into something, then used to close the boots, then the resin hardened, locking the boots on. Then with the welded ankle cuffs, taking off those boots would be difficult.
Lynda was slowly squirming, reaching the end of her links, then backing to the post again, as if she was dancing. Karen could hear her hum, almost singing. How can someone actually like that? Then she heard another hum, coming from the crotch. Uh… vibrating toys? Fuck! No wonder she was singing!
For some reason, Karen found the whole setup, the whole predicament… interesting. Her breath got faster and she surprised herself at rubbing her latex enclosed arms and even reaching her crotch. Her hot crotch. What the hell?
She couldn’t resist. She put herself directly in front of Lynda and she extended her right hand, admiring the reddish lights of the dungeon reflecting on her tight blue latex sleeve, the tips of her fingers touching the leather corset. She quickly retracted them, as if it was burning, staring at Lynda, expecting a strong reaction that she didn’t wanted to, but she didn’t do anything.
Karen touched the corset again, stronger, sliding her fingers up the side. Her breath was accelerating. She reached the top of the corset, transitioning from the leather to the latex. Lynda only slightly squirmed. Karen was watching for any sign to stop, that what she was doing was wrong, but she got the opposite reaction from Lynda, as if she liked it, as if she was welcomed to do it.
Karen put her hand firmer over Lynda’s rubbery skin, sliding it up, slowly, to her shoulder, rubbing her neck, then going back down toward her breasts, adding her left hand to the dance, squishing her breasts through the leather corset cups.
Her hands ran down, slowly, following the extreme curves of the crushing garment, over the steel belt, down to her thighs, touching the latex again, feeling the smooth material on her fingers, and also making Lynda react. She reached behind, grabbing her buns, squeezing them, forcing Lynda to move forward, reaching the end of her chain links.
She moaned. Well, it sounded like a moan. Difficult to say from the small breathing tubes. Karen was getting hotter and hotter, getting her body closer until they touched. While grabbing Lynda’s butt, she pressed her body against hers, pushing her against the bondage post, then, she didn’t know why, she had the urge to kiss her, to… kiss a latex panel with a tube protruding out of it. She stretched upward, even getting on the tip of her high heel boots to reach the right height.
She felt Lynda’s breath on her face coming from the nose breathing tubes, hot and fast. She tried instinctively pushing her tongue inside her partner’s mouth, only to be stopped by the latex barrier, only licking rubber, her tongue twisting around that tube. In the process, she inadvertently blocked Lynda’s breathing tubes. Her body tensed and Karen quickly retracted when she realized what she had done.
“Oh, shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t want to…” quickly said Karen, but Lynda answered with a low pitch grunt, the grunt she, herself, Karen, would make to… have more?
Hesitating, Karen pressed her body against Lynda again, awaiting some rejection movement, but instead, she got sexy moves, welcoming body language signs that it was good. Again, she kissed the panel gag, blocking Lynda’s breathing.
She began to squirm, but Karen held tight, even squishing Lynda’s buts tighter with her hands, pressing it against hers, feeling Lynda’s chastity belt press against her own crotch and… damn it! She felt the vibrations of the toys through the belt? She one leg, rubbing it against Lynda’s latex and steel leg. The touch was… wow.
That was awesome. She pressed harder. She had to move her head, releasing the breathing tubes momentarily, doing so, allowing Lynda to breathe, only to block them again, forcing her lungs shut full of air, or totally empty.
Lynda’s body began to shake. She was throwing her hips forward, each time pressing harder on Karen’s body, reaching the limit of her bondage, Karen retracting slightly, obviously frustrating Lynda. And her breath began to shake, her body began to shake. She was squirming hard, almost fighting her bonds. Something was wrong.
As Karen took a step back, she realized that nothing was wrong. In fact, everything was right: she was having an orgasm. All tied up. All restrained. All sealed in this rubber suit. So weird.
She let it have it, watching her struggle in her bondage, which seems to only increase the orgasm power. How the heck can someone get pleasure from being tied up, confined, blindfolded, gagged, wrapped in rubber, hey she was standing there, looking at it, biding her lower lip. And she realized it.
“Uh, fuck!” she said, wide eyes.
Obviously, Lynda’s orgasm subsided and she calmed down, her breathing returning to normal, as normal as it could be with your upper body confined within a crushing corset. She was still slowly moving, the steel links holding her to the post clicking with the slightest movement.
“Do… Do you want out?” asked Karen.
Lynda didn’t answer. It was as if she didn’t hear. Karen repeated the question louder. She was sure that she heard this time, but again, she only continued to squirm, like enjoying her situation. After all, the toys were still humming, although the pattern had changed.
Karen figured that, perhaps, Lynda couldn’t ask for help, couldn’t ask to be released… or she didn’t want to but wouldn’t admit it. She was herself stuck in a similar situation. Did she like her latex outfit? Did she enjoy teasing Lynda? Was she attracted by this kinky bondage thing? She couldn’t answer herself.
“I… I’ll be… where the hell will I be?” she asked herself. She didn’t know the house after all. “I’ll be in the… living room, yes, that’s it. I’ll be watching some TV if you need anything.” she said, then slowly walked backward toward the door, feeling her own setup, those skyscraper heels she was wearing for the first time. Walking backward with them was… fun. “What the hell is going on in this house?” she mumbled as she left the dungeon, clicking her way to the living room.
She pushed a footstool close to the sofa, settled herself on it, stretched her legs to rest on the footstool, grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.
Each time she moved, she would hear her latex creak. Each time she would look down, she would see the window reflecting on her suit, on her breasts, on her arms. Each time she would look toward the window, she would see her long brown leather covered legs, ending with those tall heels, resting on the stool. Every time, she would like the sight. She was not exactly watching the TV, she was more daydreaming, looking at herself, moving one foot, hearing the leather creak, or admiring the reflection off her arms.
It wasn’t long before she dozed off. She was awakened some time later by a strange sound, like a complaint. She opened her eyes, trying to make out where she was, but one look at her booted feet, at her shiny body, she knew.
There it is again, that strange moaning, that… muffled scream. Oh shit!
She rushed to her feet, almost losing balance and falling forward, suddenly aware of the height increase compared to what she was used to, thanks to the high heeled platform boots. She rushed to the dungeon. Lynda was there. Well, where else could she have been… she was padlocked to the wooden post. She was breathing fast, fighting her bounds. Then suddenly, her body tensed as if she was receiving an electrical shock, and she made that muffled scream for five or six seconds, before her body relaxed and she was left, panting.
“Are you okay? You want to get out?” asked Karen.
But Lynda didn’t answer either yes or no. She only squirmed as her body tensed with another shock.
“Shit!” said Karen, rushing to the walk-in closet, to the black wooden box, quickly opening it, looking inside. In the red compartment, six more padlocks, but no keys. On the green compartment, over a dozen or so padlocks with one single key that seemed to open them all. She took the key and she tried in one of the red padlocks: the kew wouldn’t even go in.
However, just to be sure, she rushed to Lynda’s side and tried it, to no avail.
“Where is the red key… I’m assuming that it is a red key, right? Green key for the green padlocks, red key for the red padlocks, right?”
Lynda nodded yes.
“Where is the red key?” she asked again.
Lynda didn’t answer. Well, not clearly anyway. Her head was making a yes and a no at the same time, kind of turning around, until she received another shock.
Karen was almost crying. She could see that Lynda was in trouble and she couldn’t help her. She tried to pull on the padlocks, tried to rip the rings off the wood post, but everything was too sturdy.
She was looking around. Maybe he had power tools in the basement. She rushed to it. Yes, power tools… behind bars? What the hell? The workshop was inside a cage? And it was locked by a heavy-duty padlock?
But wait! He was a cop! All she had to do is call the police and ask for… damn. What was his name? He never got to tell her. Oh, she will ask for the cop that lives on… oh douible-shit! What was this address? What street was that? Phil drove her there. She didn’t even know what neighborhood this was in!
The only way was to go out, look at the house number, then find the nearest street corner and look for the name of the street.
Without thinking further, she rushed outside down to the sidewalk, then looked both ways, trying to find the nearest corner.
“There, on the left.” she said, heading that way, trying to walk as fast as she could, even run, in high heel boots and latex. But she didn’t give a damn, although she could feel the sun warming up her dark bodysuit really quickly. She felt she was already sweating when she reached close enough for the street name plate to read it.
“Okay, Dresden Street.” she said out loud, rushing back to the house, her heeled boots clicking hard on the concrete sidewalk. She didn’t give a damn if someone saw her like that. It was an emergency. She reached the house, panting and sweating, turned the knob and crashed her face on the still closed door.
“What? That thing locked back?” she said, looking at the door lock, equipped with a keypad. Not even a key slot. “Damn it!” she said, rushing at the back of the house, only to find that door also locked.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she said, instinctively looking for her phone in her back pocket, only to realize that she didn’t have a back pocket and that she gave her phone to that cop. She walked back, going around, looking for an opened window, trying them all, then trying the front door again. But it resisted her attempts. If only she still had her pocket knife. She rushed to the back door again. What should she do? Break it open? With what? That door was made out of steel. She looked around for some tools, but the only thing she found was a small hand-held gardening shovel, apparently forgotten in the nearby flower pot. She tried to bang the window, to break the doorknob, but all she managed to do was break the cheap shovel itself.
“Damn what now?” she said, letting herself drop on the ground, her back against the door, sobbing. “Oh, you dumb! Just go to the neighbor and ask them to call the cops!. Stupid!” she said to herself, getting up, but as she reached the driveway, a car came in, with flashing lights. A cop got out. She recognized him.
“Hey…Y… You! Karen is in trouble…”
“What? How? What happened? Why are you outside?” he asked, rushing to the backdoor.
“She’s in pain. Something’s wrong. I wanted to call you but I don’t know your name, and I didn’t know the address, so I walked out to look at it, but the door was locked and then I tried the window and…”
“Yeah, my alarm system warned me that someone was trying to open the window, as well as the neighbors calling the station reporting a strange woman trying to break in.” he said as he opened the door. “Where is she?”
“In the dungeon,” said Karen, rushing in.
He ran to the dungeon and stopped, looking at Lynda, squirming on the wood post.
“Are you okay, sweety?” he asked. This time Lynda answered with an unmistakably nod: YES.”
“What is the problem?” he asked, turning to Karen. “She’s fine.”
“No she’s not, she receives shocks and she screams and…”
“And it is what she wanted. Tell me, did she do something wrong, like spill something?”
“No, she didn’t spill anything. Oh, wait, she broke something. Some glass or something. Could that be it? But why does it matter?”
“She’s punishing herself for her mishap.” he calmly said, getting closer as Lynda’s body tensed up with the electrical shock, picking up one of the padlocks holding her to the wood post. “These red padlocks. Only I have the key, meaning only I can release her.”
“Pun… Punish herself? By getting shocked?” asked Karen, shocked. (pun intended)
“Yes, but it’s not like she puts her fingers into a light socket or anything. There is a tens unit embedded in her corset, you know, the thing used to contract muscles? However the electrodes are linked to some, lets say, sensitive places. It doesn’t exactly hurt, but it’s not agreeable either, depending on the settings, which she controls with the pad. It’s a pain and pleasure at the same time. They are linked to a motion detection system. If she stops moving for half an hour or so, she will get shocks until she moves again. That is to prevent her from being lazy or taking a nap. By tying herself at the post, she prevents herself from moving, and she gets punished.”
“That’s weird,” said Karen.
He made a broad gesture at the dungeon. “Really?”, he asked. And I’m sorry, I thought I had properly introduced myself. My name is Derek.” he added.
“Well, you were about to, and you got a call on your radio and I didn’t think about bringing it back and… I’m so sorry, I’m only causing trouble. It’s the same everywhere I go. Maybe I should just leave and…”
“Woah. Stop it right there. You did not cause any trouble. It’s my fault. It’s Lynda’s fault. She should have explained to you why and what she was doing, but she, like myself, is not used to having… guests. How long has she been there?”
“Uh… Three hours or so. I guess. Didn’t exactly look at the time when she set herself up.”
“Three hours already?” he said, turning to Lynda. “Listen honey, I will work overtime tonight, about two to three hours, meaning that you would still stay as is for, oh… four to five more hours. You want to wait all that time on the post or you want me to free you now?”
Lynda didn’t move. Derek giggled.
“Yes of course.” he said, then looking at Karen “She will never make a decision regarding punishment. That’s my call..” he said, reaching for his pocket, while talking to his radio at the same time. “Yes Captain, I’ll be there in five minutes.” he said to the radio, “err… a… neighbor’s kid kicked its ball at one of my windows. Nothing broken, just a false alarm.” he added, looking at a blushing Karen.
He unlocked all the red locks but left them where they were, meaning that Lynda was still bound. Sort of. She could easily take the padlock off now.
“Now, it’s for you to decide, Karen. You take the locks off, or you lock them back on. I have to go back to work.
He left, talking on his radio, leaving Karen to decide Lynda’s fate. She could keep her there, being… tortured, or she could release her. Her decision was easy, since she didn’t, like seeing Lynda suffer. She took the padlocks from the ankles off, then wrists then neck, and finally removed the padlocks securing the blindfold harness and took it off.
She could only see Lynda’s eyes, but she was sure she was smiling. Lynda walked to the walk-in closet and got out a few moments later, holding a set of leather cuffs. She pointed at them then at Karen.
“You… you want me to put these on?” she asked.
Lynda nodded YES.
Karen had mixed feelings. She was eager to try it, and she was afraid to try it. She had butterflies in her stomach. She extended a hand and Lynda wrapped the leather cuff on it, tightening tightly before snapping a padlock. She did the same with the other wrists, then down to her ankles, and finally to her neck, adding a severe posture collar, forcing Karen’s head up.
Only once all were put on did Karen look at them carefully and noticed… the red padlocks! She looked at Lynda with wide eyes, mouth agape, but she could see, by her eyes, that she was smiling. She quickly reached for the back of her posture collar.
“Red too?” she asked, to which Lynda nodded.
She grabbed two short chains and obviously asked Karen if she wanted to have her cuffs linked.
That was a strange feeling. She felt trapped. Oh she had been trapped before. Not the same, tho, being handcuffed and put to jail is not the same, but that did bring up strange feelings, of being powerless and at the mercy of someone else.
But it was also different. The creaking of her latex covered arms, and her high heels made the thought different. She was afraid at the same time she was eager.
Lynda added the chains and, again, used red padlocks. Karen didn’t try to stop her. It was as if she was hypnotized by the whole situation, that her situation was sinking in. Oh well, this was only temporary, tho… Right… Right?
She dropped her hands in front of her, feeling the tug of the wrist cuffs, linked by merely 15cm of chain and made a few steps, having her first taste at hobble walking, and more, in heels! While she was coping with a mix of emotions and feelings, Lynda has put back her hobble and wrist chains, also using red padlocks. That somewhat helped Karren as Lynda was now as restricted as she was. She was so concentrated at looking down at her setup that she didn’t notice Lynda coming behind her. She suddenly felt something against her face, against her mouth.
“Whaggghnnn…” was all she could say before feeling something hard being pulled inside her mouth from the back.
Lynda quickly drew the strap of the ball gag tight, and locked it before Karen had time to react and reach for it.
She was trying to pull on it, trying to reach the lock at the back, all at the same time, but the short wrist links prevented it. She was feeling the full extent of her predicament.
“Gghhed?” she asked, pointing at the padlock.
Lynda nodded that she had used a red padlock, and again, by the wrinkles around her eyes, she KNEW she was smiling, if not laughing.
So, now she was totally stuck in latex, bondage, gagged, until Derek comes back. And now what?
As if to add humiliation to this whole situation, Lynda snapped a dog leash on Karen’s posture collar front ring and tugged on it.
Her first taste of pretty much everything, hands tied in front, the posture collar preventing her from looking down at the floor, which was causing quite an anxiety attack to hobble walk in high heels, and this huge rubbery thing in her mouth, making her drool. She was always trying to push it out with her tongue, but Lynda’s job had been well done.
Moaning, she followed, taking very small steps. Lynda wasn’t rushing her, waiting for her to follow, two sets of high heels clicking, four chains clinking, and two sets of rubber creaking, along the narrow corridor which seems to amplify all those sounds. This sounded unreal and Karen really wondered if she was bad-tripping on some drugs she was unaware she had taken.
Maybe that’s it. All of this wasn’t happening. She was dreaming about this. Phil must have tainted her drink. That would explain.
That would explain why she felt so aroused by the time they reached the kitchen.
Lynda puts Karen against the counter and gestures for her to wait there.
She hobbled her way to the table and picked up her tablet, touching the screen, scrolling up, down, swiping sideways, then made the “yes! Got it!” expression by pointing her index finger at the screen. She brought the tablet in front of Karen, her rubber creaking. Karen was amazed at how the lights coming from the large windows were reflecting on her shoulders, and she really noticed how tight her suit seemed to be as there were no wrinkles, almost as if it was her own skin.
Lynda took her out of her daydream by tapping on the tablet for her to look. It was a recipe. She then pointed at different ingredients, then at a specific cupboard, or the fridge, or the pantry, then at the quantity and how they should be prepared. She pointed at Karen then at the lines of the recipe she obviously wanted her to take care of, then made a thumb up.
After a few moments for this whole thing to sink in, Karen nodded she understood. Lynda then put the tablet on the table, because each one of them needed it.
Karen headed for the pantry to retrieve the first ingredients which were some potatoes. The leash was now dangling in front of her and slapping her gently on her crotch with each step, being disturbing. She reached the pantry, but not in a straight line, having leaned on one side too heavily, she had gotten in the wrong direction. Walking with a hobble chain needed some learning. Extending both hands, she grabbed the knob and opened the door. Of course the bag of potatoes was on the floor.
How the hell was she going to get to it? She couldn’t see what she was doing unless she bent down at the waist, thanks to the collar she was beginning to hate, and she couldn’t grab a hold of the door frame for balance with one hand, while reaching for the bag with her other hand, thanks to the wrist chain. And thanks for the hobble chain, she couldn’t spread her legs to help her balance while bending down.
She would have to do it by bending straight from the hips. She let out a sight and proceeded, feeling the crotch zipper of her leotard suddenly biting hard into her crotch, making her lose focus for a moment. She grabbed the bag of potatoes, which was rather full and tried to lift it. Of course, that made her ‘front heavy’ and she began to dangerously lean forward. She tried to compensate by bending her knees, but she overcompensated, and now she was leaning backward.
She tried to make a step back, but the hobble chain blocked her move, creating a momentum with her upper body, pretty much resting on the tip of her heels, they slipped and she was down on her butt on the floor, the bag of potatoes to her side, the vegetables rolling off the bag, on the floor.
She heard a small burst of high pitch noise, almost like gloating. She had to turn her whole upper body to look at the source: Lynda’s laughing.
Karen made the only gesture that came to her mind: the finger, which seemed to only make Lynda laugh harder. Fuck! That helped with her frustration and humiliation.
Grunting, she turned around on her knees and gathered all the running away potatoes, putting them back in the bag: they were going to be washed and peeled anyway.
Getting back up proved to be a challenge. She grabbed a hold of one of the shelves of the pantry and carefully gathered her hobbling feet near her, kneeling on them, then slowly raising up, holding the bag of potatoes tightly.
Finally upright, she let out a sigh. A glance at Lynda who acknowledges her prowesses by two thumbs up.
She hobbled her way to the counter and then looked through the different drawers to find the peeler, each time, making small side steps.
That was annoying, difficult yet…arousing.
Peeling the potatoes with the short chain wasn’t exactly easy either. She had to learn a new way to do itr. Restriction requires learning how to do things again. But she wasn’t complaining. She actually liked the challenge.
She peeled and cut some carrots, then it was the onions’ turn.
As she cut the first one, her eyes stingned, and tears began to form.
She sniffed them out, wiping her eyes with her sleeves… Yeah, try to wipe tears with latex sleeves.
She was looking for a tissue or something to wipe her now very crying eyes, when Lynda saw what was going on.
She made a “wait a minute” gesture and disappeared toward the dungeon to come back shortly after with a strange apparatus with straps. Karen made wide eyes.
“Gaffpph aakkfffsss?” she said, wide eyed.
Lynda nodded yes and put the heavy rubber mask, with a filtering cartridge, over Karen’s head, pulling the straps tightly.
That felt weird. She was suddenly isolated, her eyes looking through yellow tinted lenses, her mouth covered with that soft rubber mask, hearing her breath sucks in and blow out, hearing and feeling that one way valve working.
She turned back to the counter only to realize the problem: the mask’s eyeports were small. With her posture collar not allowing much movement down, she couldn’t see her work area at all. She had to grab the onion at eye level to peel it. That was somewhat fine, but how to cut it now? She only had to rely on what she felt with her fingers, feeling the knife. She remembered a chef doing it in some cooking show, where he chopped down an onion in very small pieces, without looking at his hands once, while talking to the contestants.
The knife she was using was large, so she could rest her knuckles against it, and be very careful with it.
She realized that feeling the blade against her fingers, while wearing those blue nitrile gloves, wasn’t going to be that easy. Sure, she could ‘feel’ the blade, but was the blade about to cut the glove in the process? Carefully she managed to cut it in half and put one half down. She was feeling her way on the onion, resting the blade against her knuckles when she heard a high pitch noise coming from behind. She startled, almost cutting herself, and turned around.
Lynda was there, arms in the air, nodding a frantic NO!.
She quickly hobbled Karen’s workstation, bent down and opened one of the cupboards to retrieve a hand-held onion slicer, putting it on the counter, her eyes on the verge of panic.
Karen made a thumbs up and used the chopper to an evidently relieved Lynda.
Once the onion was done, Lynda removed the gasmask. Karen almost felt sad. She had come to like that thing, how isolated she felt. She pondered, wondering how it would feel to have her head encased in rubber. Would it be the same? Similar?
Also, manipulating the vegetables, or the kitchen tools, while wearing gloves was something new and interesting. Feeling them and not feeling them. It was giving her a sense of security, or cleanliness, although her ‘hands’ were cleaned, her gloves were not and she managed to smudge residues everywhere.
“You’re gonna have to clean that out.” wrote Lynda on her tablet.
Everything was either on the stove or in the oven. Time to clean the mess. While Karen began to gather stuff for the dishwasher, Lynda disappeared again toward the dungeon and came back shortly after and approached Karen, grabbing her already impaired wrists and quickly drawing them D-ring against D-ring, and snapping a green padlock. Shit. Now her wrists were as close together as they could be.
“Punishment for spoiling the whole kitchen,” wrote Lynda. “Now, clean it.”
In awe, Karen looked at Lynda who simply sat at the table, taking her tablet, playing Candy Crush…
It took a few moments for Karen to realize her situation, her punishment.
Slowly, impaired, she proceeded, both arms having to work together at the same place. Both hands were needed to move the smallest of objects. She couldn’t keep the cleaning sponge in one hand while grabbing something with the other. No. It was: put the sponge down. Take the glass. Hobble to the dishwasher. Come back to the counter. Grab the sponge. Wet it, Go to the dirty spot. Wash it. Drop the sponge. Move the toaster out of the way. Grab the sponge, clean the counter.
It was long, fastidious, exhausting and damn right arousing. She liked it. She felt it was a game, a skill test.
It took a long time but the job was done. She was all sweaty and could feel and see the sweat sliding down her tight rubber sleeves, entering the gloves and dripping off the gloves wrists. She could also feel the sweat running down her body, down through the hip of the leotard, and running down her leg, into her boots, creating a tickling feeling every time.
And her boots, feeling them, having to bend forward, lifting one leg to counterbalance, limited by the chain, feeling the gut of one ankle to the other every dime, then hearing the heel click as she put her foot down, then one step sideway, again, reaching the limit of the chain, feeling the tugs. Why was this fun? Why was this arousing?
Once all done, she knocked on a cabinet to attract Lynda’s attention out of her game to look up.
She got up her chair and slowly walked over the counter, running her finger like a Master would check on a maid’s dusting work.
Oh, there. One greasy spot! And a little bit of flour there.
Karen grunted. She was being picky as hell! She fixed the little bits she had missed and everything was fine. Lynda gestured to her to sit at the table.
“Now what?” wrote Lynda on her tablet. “We wait for Derek to come home and serve him his much deserved dinner.”
Karen raised her very bound wrists and snapped them, asking Lynda to remove the green padlock. Karen could see a large smile form on Lynda’s eyes when she raised… the finger.
“No bad behavior goes unpunished.” she wrote.
So, she sat there, hands resting on her lap, feeling the tight rubber of her chest expand with each breath, feeling that she has to fight said tightness to breathe, feeling the gag pushing her tongue down, the drool dripping off of it, falling on her breasts, running down her suit, to her skirt.
Her skirt, where her hands were resting, tied up, linked together, at just the right place, in the middle of her lower belly, very very close to the playground.
Discreetly, she pushed her fingers under the waistband of the skirt, reaching her crotch, running her finger over it. It was a strange feeling. As it seems it was every time the same with latex, she could feel it but at the same time, not feel it. The dripping sweat had entered and reached the area, creating a slippy layer where her fingers could freely slide on, putting a little pressure, scratching… Nope, that did nothing, it was only sliding. But the rubbing and the pushing did their tricks. She wished she could push her finger in, but the zipper and those panties were blocking the way. It was almost as if she was wearing a chastity belt.
Is it what it feels like? Not the touching feeling, but the way the blocked entrance feels? Forbidden access? Her mind was racing. It wasn’t all about the sensations, but the thoughts, the state of mind.
She was intrigued. After all, one pair of handcuffs, linking one wrist to any fixed object would prevent anyone from going away. So, why all those extra cuffs, straps, padlocks over padlocks and other restraining devices, restraining people more and more? Why having someone already all restrained and gagged, being put into a cage and said cage suspended in the middle of a locked prison cell?
Her eyes were closed and the more she rubbed, the more aroused she was, daydreaming of being bound up, unable to move in a totally inescapable situation. And there were those mummies, all wrapped up, then covered in leather straps, put into body bags. Oh gosh! Why was all of this suddenly so arousing? She didn’t realize that Lynda had gone up and left the room, only when she felt someone behind her. She opened her eyes but something was put over it. She tried to take it off, but Lynda gently moved her hands away, gently tapping her on her shoulders, in a ‘relax, just live it’ way.
Heart racing, Karen let Lynda proceed. She felt a tug on her leash, to get up. She proceeded. Damn! That was different when blind. Where was she exactly in relation with the table, the chair, the counter.
A gentle tug to move forward. Hesitating, she made her first step, then another one. The pull changed to sideways, to her right. Yes, of course, she was walking around the table. She followed. Gheesh. How much turning is too much? The tug was to the left now. Then more in the front. Forward, then to the left. A very sharp turn. Of course, they were heading for the corridor. Good thing she had some idea of how the house was laid out. Straight on. She picked up the pace, then a turn to the left again. Of course, going to the dungeon. She could hear the change of sound, from the echoing kitchen, to the corridor, and to the muffled environment of the dungeon. One more step. Two more.
Lynda grabbed her shoulders and made her turn to the left, again. No, a little to the right. Moving sideways to her right. Nope, too much, to her left. Backward a little. Damn, she was getting positioned with military precision, and doing all those little steps in her high heels was something new and fun. Yes, she liked those heels. She might get some of her own.
Yeah, right. With what money? Why and how she got there re-surfaced.
Something was snapped on her wrist cuffs and she heard a whining noise, like an electric motor, and her hands were drawn up, and up, over her head, then stretched, pulling on her shoulders, her arms closing around her head, then it relaxed, getting lower, but stopping slightly over her head.
Lynda, well she assumed it was Lynda, fondled at the back of her head and suddenly, the gag seemed loose. How come? Weren’t those supposed to be red padlocks? Or was Derek here? Was Derek doing all this? Then again, she never saw those padlocks and she never had a clear answer from Lynda. Damn, did she ask in the first place?
The gag was gently pulled out. Karen began to ask what was going on, but she felt a latex covered finger pressed vertically against her lips in a very clear ‘shush’, but still a sensual one.
The blindfold was loosened but Lynda’s fingers were pushing on Karen’s eyelids to indicate to keep them closed, to just play the game.
Karen waited, her breath shaking. She wasn’t in control, but she felt safe. And damn, this was exciting.
She felt something cold on her forehead. Latex, of course. Then her head was pulled backward as the latex covered her head. She figured a latex hood was getting pulled on, so she worked her head accordingly, keeping it as straight and as still as possible. Damn, her heart was racing even harder. So much anticipation. She was eager and afraid at the same time, of having her head completely covered in rubber. As the hood was stretched and pulled down, it covered her ears, dampening the sounds. She felt isolated, inside her own cocoon, her own little universe. All she could hear was Lynda’s latex fingers working the latex hood. Latex on latex makes strange sounds.
And that smell, when the hood covered her face, that strong latex smell, overloading her olfactory sensors. Then the pull over her face, the pull on her jaw, forcing it shut, without really forcing it shut. It was pulling but not that much, and it was pulling everywhere, gently squeezing her head. Lynda worked the neck of the hood under the leather collar, then smoothed out all the wrinkles.
She wanted to see what she looked like. She might be facing the walk-in closet mirror. She opened her eyes and saw… black. Damn! No eye holes?
Something cold, more rubber, was pressed against her lips. She opened her mouth, slightly at first, not sure if she had to open it or not, and the rubber was pushed inside, forcing her mouth to open more.
For the first time, she tasted latex as her mouth was filled with that strange lump of latex, like a deflated balloon. Straps were fastened on the sides of her hood, then that loose lump began to expand, to inflate. It filled her mouth rather quickly and then some more and more. She began to panic. This was filling it too much, pressing her cheeks outward. She was almost choking. She tried to grab it, to stop whatever was inflating it. As if on cue, the sack deflated, then her hands were raised up, and up, over her head, stretching her. Now, her upper arms were squeezing the sides of her head. Her feet were about to leave the ground and were now forced open until she felt they had reached the maximum of her hobble chain. Then it stopped.
The inflation of the bag resumed. It grew bigger and bigger, and then deflated. Lynda seemed to have a ball at seeing Karen panicking and struggling in her bounds.
And Karen was starting to like it, to feel all impaired, all restrained, unable to move, unable to get free, unable to move away, to resist. How… How can that be arousing?
The gag was inflated once more, but stopped at a more acceptable size, then, nothing. Nothing more. No touch, no sound, nothing. She slowly squirmed in her suspension. She tried to pull herself up, only to feel the ankle cuffs refusing to move. She tried to close her legs, with the same results.
She tried to relax. By the little movements she could do with her ankles, she realized that she was just off the floor, that by stretching her feet, she could feel the tip of her sole touch the hard surface. Weird. She could have been 2m off the ground, it would have felt the same.
Someone, well, she assumed it was Lynda, was back, she could feel her gentle touch on her waist. Her skirt was raised or moved. The crotch zipper of her leotard was opened. She felt rubber gloves touching her crotch, moving away the crotch of her latex panties. Then something greasy was applied, followed by the soft push or something hard, yet smooth. It gently pushed in and slightly out, Karen relaxed and let whatever was trying to find its way in, go in. It ought to be a toy, and she so desperately wanted one. The toy was pushed in, gently, deeply. She moaned.
Yes, it was pleasurable, she just wished there was more to it than just a lump of plastic. More of that greasy feeling but on her butthole. Oh shit! A buttplug? She never wore that before. The push was more firm. She tried to relax, but it felt as if she had to go. Her hole stretched and the large plug pushed in. It was a weird feeling, but not exactly uncomfortable. More disturbing.
The crotch of her latex panties was stretched out and put over those plugs, pushing them in. Karen moaned. Yes, that was good. Then the crotch zipper of the leotard was closed, pushing on the toys even harder, as the zipper didn’t stretch and that suit was a wee bit too small on the body length. It was a mix of feelings, of pain and pleasure, of being agreeable and disturbing.
Then… nothing. She just stayed there, gently squirming in her suspension, feeling the pull on her wrists, on her ankles. She could squeeze her butt muscles, working the plugs, but they were dead.
If that was meant as a torture, it was succeeding. Not physical torture, but mental torture: being all sexually aroused but denied of everything. Again, something only mental. Nothing physical, although she could very well feel her suspensio… oh shit!
Both toys, at the same time, became alive. Vibrating, knocking, twisting, even stroking. She screamed and she was glad she was gagged because the whole neighborhood would have heard that.
Her breathing got faster, she squirmed hard in her bonds, the harder the struggle, the stronger the feeling of being tied up, the more powerful the emotions were, and… nothing. Total silence.
She grunted and squirmed and she was sure she heard Lynda laugh. Since she was gagged, it might have been all in her mind, but Lynda was laughing like crazy. That bitch! She was toying with her.
She tried to get out of her predicament, to reach the toys, or to grab the remote or whatever was used to control them. She realized how restrained she was. She couldn’t even kick herself out of that situation. Suddenly, all that was overkilled in the bondage images she had earlier, were all on purpose. The more restrained someone was, the stronger the pleasure was? Could it be? Really?
All hell broke loose again, but this time, only the dildo was ‘playing’. Then only the butt plug. She was getting worked up, raised to the edge and it stopped for a few moments, before firing again, keeping her on the edge. Just there. ON THE EDGE. Unable to jump off, to let the orgasm that was building up explode. She was left to cool off then raised on the edge again.
She was feeling her spirit leave her body. She was passing out, although she was not. It was like she was in trans, in another dimensions, riding a pleasure wave, surfing sexual arousal, desperately wanting to fall into this ocean of orgasms, but being pushed out time after time.
Another pause. She was breathing heavily. Something was wrapped around her waist and tightened. A corset, of course, being drawn tighter and tighter. Damn! She… liked it! She loved tight jeans but this was beyond tight. She felt a hard slap on her butt, sending her slightly swinging. A hard slap. Very hard slap From someone not wearing gloves. That couldn’t be Lynda. Derek! Derek was toying with her now. Since when?
She was brought to the edge again, which took next to no time, and kept there. She was squirming, moaning. In her head, she was fighting like the Devil in holy water, and she was screaming so loudly that the whole continent would hear her.
And then, her world flipped over. Her body was run over by strong electrical shocks, putting her into strong convulsions as the orgasm exploded. Her brain melted, vaporized, and flew away. She was out of that body, living an out of this world experience, a pleasure she never knew existed. Hell, she never even imagined that a thing like this could exist. That was good. So good! Like tasting the best wine, or beer or meal again and again for the first time, pure pleasure sensory overload.
And it lasted long, again and again. When it seemed to subsided, a strong pull on her arms and legs, feeling her restraints, or a strong biting on her inflated gag, was sending her to orgasm again. Was that one single orgasm, or a series or individual ones? How long did it last? It seemed like eons, when it finally subsided, for good, as she was totally out of energy. She was suddenly weak, unable to pull on her bonds. Her energy was all drained out.
She felt being lowered on the ground, the gag deflated, her links removed, then taken by strong arms and carried somewhere else, gently being laid down on a soft mattress. The gag was removed as well as the blindfold. She opened her eyes.
Derek was there, in full latex, smiling, Lynda standing behind him.
“That was one heck of a ride! Just rest and come join us in the dining room when you’re ready.” he gently said, smiling.
They left the room, leaving her alone.
She was still panting, closing her eyes, slowly working her hips up and down, to feel the last remnants of that strong hormone rush. That was good. That was awesome. That was enough for a lifetime.
She joined them some time later. Derek’s plate was half empty and a long tube, ending with a large syringe-like device, was placed on Lynda’s mouth tube, Lynda holding the syringe.
“She has to be tube fed.” said Derek to explain what he was doing. “The meal is passed through a blender and sheI slowly pushes it in as we eat. So, we still eat together.” he said, taking another bite of the beef stew they had cooked earlier. “That is good. I heard you had a hand in it?”
“What? Oh… yes.” said Karen, sitting down, or rather letting herself drop on the chair, exhausted, but letting out a little yelp. The toys, although silent, were still there and the corset, keeping her waist pinched.
“Oh, we’re not fancy here or anything. Just serve yourself.” said Derek, pointing at the stove.
With a sigh, learning that she had some efforts to give, she got up and walked to the stove. She realized at the same time that those high heels were not bothering her at all, she had completely forgotten about them. She made herself a small plate, she didn’t feel too hungry, and sat down, more carefully this time.
She ate, her mind half there, half elsewhere, staring at her plate.
“Feeling alright? If you need anything, just ask.” calmly said Derek.
“Whut?? Oh… No, I’m fine. I think…” she said, picking up her fork and taking her first bite.
She had herself four portions before she stopped.
They all pitched in to do the dishes and clean everything. The toys inside Karen were still disturbing. Everytime she made a step, she bent or even stretched herself to reach a high shelf, she would moan.
“You can take them off, if you want. No one here is forcing you to keep them in, if they are a problem. Said Derek.
“Uh? Oh… Well… I don’t know. It’s kinda…fun.” she mumbled.
Derek and Karen looked at each other, understanding the message, the thought.
Once everything was done, Karen spoke up.
“Listen. That last 24 hours or so has been quite an… adventure, and I’m really tired. I would simply like to go to sleep. Where… Where do I sleep? On the couch?”
“Oh, gheesh, damn.” said Derek. “I… I offered you to stay here but I somewhat forgot that we don’t have a guest room anymore, as it was transformed into the dungeon. So, yes, you can sleep on the couch. I guess.”
“How about that bed in the dungeon, the one I was on after… whatever happened there.” she asked.
Derek quickly looked at Lynda, who nodded a small no and gestured something.
“Yes, right. Well, there are rules for the dungeon and Lynda wants them to be respected at all times.” said Derek.
“Oh… and they are?” asked Karen.
“Well, nobody could enter the dungeon without wearing latex.”
“Hum… okay. I think that one is covered.” said Karen, wiping her latex skirt clean.
“And… for any long time inside the dungeon, so sleeping, the person must be gagged and restrained.”
“Ah… I see.” she said, trailing off.
Being restrained. To sleep. Really? She had a flashback of just a few moments ago and smiled.
“Well… why not?” she said, getting up.
“Oh, wow. Okay.” said Derek. “You want to do that… now?”
“Yes, I’d like to rest, please.”
They all headed for the dungeon.
Karen picked up the blow-up gag she had on earlier, in her hands, looking at it from all sides
“Would that be okay for the gag?” she asked.
“Err… yes.” said Derek. “If it’s what you want, but we have different ones, if you like.”
“Well, I find the soft bag more comfortable than the hard ball.” she said.
“It’s your choice,” said Derek.
“And the blindfold. I mean, I will be asleep early and I assume that Lynda sleeps here, so… it will keep me in the dark.” she said.
“Hum, okay. And how do you want to be tied up?”
“Oh… gheesh… I… I don’t know.” she said.
Lynda talked to Derek in sign language.
“Lynda suggests only having your feet linked together and your collar to the headboard. Being too restrained on a first time might not turn out too well.
“Uh… yes. Sort of makes sense. Okay, then.” she said, taking place on the bed and waiting, putting her arms on her back.
“You want your arms on your back?
“Oh. No, I just took that position to… well… can you?”
“Might be a little extreme for a first time, but if this is what you want.”
“Well, let’s try it.”
A few moments later, she was all setup, blindfolded, gagged,neck linked to the headboard, feet linked together. Lynda gently pulled a latex sheet over Karen and tucked her in.
“Well, good night, Karen,” said Derek.
“Mfff “ could only answer Karen.
She heard them, or rather Lynnda, walk away. She was now alone with her thoughts. She stretched her legs, tried to open them but couldn’t. Her arms in her back were forcing her on her stomach or on her side. The corset was hard to cope with. She should have asked Derek to take it off, but oh well. She just had to learn. And it was arousing. She felt the corset enhanced the feeling of her toys. They were dead but quite disturbing and being all tied up, gagged, etc, made her hot.
“You wanted to rest, Karen. Stop thinking about sex” she said to herself.
She quickly drifted away and apparently slept but it was short lived. She was fully conscious when Derek set Lynda up for the night.
She twisted and turned on her latex bed.
Finding sleep again was difficult. Arms in her back, legs tied together, collar linked to the headboard, the blow-up gag, even the boots and especially the now dead toys, which were all fun at first glance were somehow annoying if not painful now that she was resting.
She felt someone approaching her, then a wet rag was put over her nose. Since she could only breathe through her nose, she breathed the vapors of whatever liquid this was, and she felt dizzy, disoriented. She tried to fight back, but it did nothing. She was feeling totally drunk. The wet rag was held against her face with a few turns of electrical tape.
“Come on, Lynda, take your side… go.” she heard Derek’s voice as she was lifted off the bed.
“Don’t worry, all will be fine.” she heard a woman’s voice. Wait! Lynda? What the fuck?
She felt her boots being taken out. Her hands were released and the leotard removed, and the panties and the toys. What were they doing?
She felt something cold and greasy being applied to her crotch then the toys were back but… those were larger. A lot larger. She moaned. They were too big and it was hurting, but whoever was inserting them, didn’t care. They were forced in. Karen squirmed. Well, her mind, that is. Her body didn’t seem to respond to her commands.
Next, something cold over her feet. She recognized the feeling: latex. It seemed quite thick. Thicker than what her leotard was.
“Sure you picked up the right size?” she heard Derek ask.
“We’re out of the correct size. This is one size up.” Lynda answered.
“Shit. This is going to be a very tight fit.” she heard Derek say as he struggled to pull the suit up Karen’s legs.
They struggled a lot and the suit was finally at her waist, but it was a strange feeling. She was expecting to feel cold air on her back, you know, the zipper, but instead, they seem to force her arms down a narrow opening, down the side of her body. Ih, she wasn’t being fitted into a catsuit, but a bag. A body bag!
Oh no! They were going to kill her. Of course. Derek is police. He knew Phil. They’re working together! That’s how Phil managed to stay out of jail all this time: the police are working for him. That explains how and why Derek was so eager to help her. She struggled even harder to get free but her body didn’t responded. She only felt her arms being forced into very tight sleeves then brought up, over her head and wrapped in cuffs then stretched out, and pulled up, literally lifting her off the ground.
She felt something heavy and rigid being wrapped around her waist. She figured it was a corset. At the same time, tubes, rigid tubes, were put over her feet, forcing them down, pointing: ballet boots.
Judging by the force used, she figured that Derek was lacing the corset while Lynda was putting the ballet boots on, before wrapping wide cuffs around her ankles and linking them at the floor or something because now, Derek was pulling hard on the lacing and Karen was getting stretched by all four limbs.
She tried to resist, to keep her stomach full of air, but Derek would squeeze it empty in one single pull. She was panicking! She could barely breathe. She was being crushed, cut in half!
Finally, the pulling stopped. She felt something hard between her thighs, going up, resting against her crotch. Hard. Cold. Rigid. Steel. A chastity belt, of course. As it was fastened over the corset, it pulled up against her crotch, pushing the extra-large intruders even deeper in.
Her collar was removed as well as the wet rag and her gag along with the blindfold. She tried to speak, to complain, but only a slow gibberish sound, mixed with drool, came out. Damn! Her brain couldn’t even form a protest! A panel gag with a huge and long gag, reaching almost to the back of her throat, teasing her gag reflex, was put on instead. Another collar was put on, less restrictive, which suited her, but a gasmask was added. It didn’t have cartridges but a long breathing tube.
Carefully, she was lowered to the floor, still unable to do much with her limbs, although the wet rag with the strange drug had been removed. Her arms were tied in her back, the wrist cuffs linked together and more cuffs added over her elbows and drawn tight. She was put into a kneeling position as strong nylon ratchet straps were wrapped, circling her ankles and her thighs together., bringing them tightly together, her inner thighs biting on the chastity belt crotch strap. Then she was pushed down, her chest against her knees, and another ratchet strap wrapped her shoulders with her knees, putting her into a very tight ball tie.
She could hardly breathe now, and she was totally unable to move.
She was put on a dolly and rolled out, brought back down the stairs to the basement, Derek working the dolly hand grips and Lynda holding it in front of him, her long blond hairs floating on her shoulders. She was still in full latex, and ballet heels, walking as if she was barefooted. Karen tried to scream, to attract some attention, but gagged as she was plus the gasmask, nothing much came out. She heard Lynda giggle at her attempts. The lights of the basement were turned on, revealing a strange steel frame with rolls of plastic wrap and a bunch of wooden crates.
She was put in the middle of the steel frame. An end of the plastic wrap was knotted at her knee strap and she began to turn, the plastic wrapping her tightly into a nice tight package on every turn… as if it was needed. It was hard to tell. She made, was it three or five or eight turns?
The machine stopped. She was carried to a wooden crate, the breathing hose of her gasmask linked to some sort of box on the side of the crate.
“Don’t worry, it will be over in about 12 hours. Kind of.” she heard Lynda, followed by an evil laugh.
The empty spaces of the crate were filled with packing foam. Rapidly, her vision turned to darkness as the cover was put on, squeezing her in, removing the little free movements she had, like wiggling her ankles or her fingers. And she heard power tools, sealing her faith.
That was it? She was nothing more than a slave now? Some sort of sex slave being sold out. She hated Phil, she hated her life, her choices in life which led her to… this. She could breathe. Sort of. But all of that was so weird, so extreme. The drug was wearing off. She was feeling more and more the full extent of her predicament, how tight she was wrapped in latex, the corset, the toys, the gag, everything. She felt she was running out of air. She struggled breathing.
Slowly, her mind drifted away and everything became black.
She felt a tug on her shoulder.
“Karen? Karen? Are you alright? Oh my gosh! KAREN!
Something passed over her eyes and she saw, within a blurry vision, Derek looking at her, and in the background, Karen, tied to the wall, eyes wide.
“Mffmff…” managed to say Karen, suddenly able to breathe, although still restricted by the corset.
Where… where was the crate? Where was the plastic wrap? How did she end up… back on the bed? In the dungeon?
“It’s all my fault.” said Derek, quickly deflating the gag and taking it off, a pool of drool spewing from Karen’s mouth into the latex covered mattress.
“Arrgh… what the hell…” said Karen, instinctively trying to wipe the drool off, but her arms were still very much secured in her back. “
“I’m so sorry. Good thing Lynda saw you struggle and pressed the panic button. I… I never thought of that, I mean, Lynda is never able to move that much and…”
“Stop. Stop it.” said Karen. “Just explain what happened… or was it all just a dream?” she then mumbled to herself, then looking at Derek: “you… put me in one of those full latex catsuits then tied me in some kind of ball, only to wrap me in some plastic from a machine in your basement, and then put me in a crate… oh shit! You don’t have piles of shipping crates in your basement, don’t you?”
Derek looked at her with a strange face.
“Err… Karen. There’s nothing in the basement. Only the workshop.”
“It… was a dream?” she asked, remembering that she did go to the basement and nothing she saw was there.
“Dream or nightmare. I’m really sorry. The thing is that I… silly… didn’t restrain you enough.”
“Well… uh… let me explain.” he said while he removed the chain to her collar and helped her sit down, dragging a large lump of rubber with her feet.
“You apparently turned and twisted a lot. Your legs got entangled within the latex sheet we had put over you.” he said, working to untwist and even de-knot the latex sheet from around her legs. “You were linked to the headboard with the collar. That was the only thing keeping you on the bed. You managed to twist and turn, landing your face on the latex pillow and… blocking the breathing holes of your hood. According to Lynda, you tried to move away from the pillow but now your legs were bent, and with your arms behind you, you couldn’t roll away from the pillow. The only way was forward, but you had reached the end of your neck chain, so you were only pushing your face harder on the pillow, blocking… oh gosh! That was very unsafe of me. Here, let me untie you. You shouldn’t sleep like that, not on the first night anyway. I’m so sorry. Those dungeon rules are stupid,” he said, reaching for Karen’s hands and removing the cuffs then removing the link of the ankle cuffs..
“There. Try to go back to sleep.” he said, gently helping her lay down, pulling the latex sheet back over her. “We’ll talk more in the morning.” he said, getting up.
Karen laid on her side, looking at Derek, slowly approaching Lynda, hung on some steel frame off the wall.
“That was a good call, honey. We all got carried away a little too fast.” he said, gently rubbing her shoulder.
Karen turned and twisted a few times. Something felt good, and something was missing. Derek turned to her, smiled and walked to the door.
“Wait.” said Karen.
“Yes?” answered Derek, walking back to her.
“You… you said that I wasn’t restrained enough?”
“Yes. That’s why your feet got all entangled in the bedsheet and…”
“Then add more restraints.”
“Say what?” he asked, pulling his head forward, in total shock.
“Add more restraints.” she said, rolling on her back, putting her arms under her back, and spreading her legs on each corner of the footbed. “How about this? Yes, that’s okay. I think. I… couldn’t wrap my legs around the bedsheet now, couldn’t I?”
“That… that would be good for a… punishment, because it will quickly become uncomfortable laying down over your arms. How about… legs spread but your wrists together on your stomach. Just like that, you won’t be able to turn, and it will give you a small taste of sleeping bondage without going extreme.” he said.
“But Lynda is all restrained.” said Karen, pointing at a barely able to move Lynda.
“Yes, but she had years of… training. She started off little by little. You’re already a few steps ahead compared to what she went through.” he said.
“Uh… okay. Well, I guess we can try that.” she said, putting her hands on her stomach.
Derek linked her ankle cuffs to the corners of the bondage bed then snapped a padlock on the rings of her wrist cuffs.
“There, how is that?” he asked.
“Oh… I… I thought the neck chain was staying.”
“You want the neck…”
“… And the gag, and the blindfold.” she asked with a strange smile.
“You’re sure?” he asked, puzzled, glancing at Lynda who seemed awestruck as well.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” she answered without a hint of hesitation. That’s what she wanted. To feel helpless, restrained. She had the feeling she was in good hands after what happened.
He linked the collar to the headboard.
“Tighter.” she asked.
“No, I won’t go tighter. Too dangerous for you to get strangled.
“But I can move.” she said.
“And now you can’t talk,” he said, pushing the blow-up gag into her opened mouth. She groaned, but she was smiling.
“Still want to go through with this?” he asked, applying the blindfold, to which she nodded a clear yes.
“Okay then. Good night.” he said, walking away, but staying by the door, watching her.
Karen gently squirmed on the bed, testing her bonds. She quickly realized that she had her wrists tied together but she could move her arms. She could reach the blow-up gag and play with the pump, she could remove the blindfold, and she can even reach the headboard. The chain wasn’t locked there, only held by a quick link. Fondling with it, ,she tightened the chain a few more links until there was a constant tug on her collar. Then she took the blow-up gag pump in her hand and squeezed it, then released it, then inflate it again, and again, deflating it quickly afterward, then blowing it up again, trying the different pressures, what she liked and didn’t like.
Derek smiled. That setup would allow her to experiment, to try. He gestured to Lynda.
“Keep an eye on her.”
She answered partially since her hands could not be brought back together for the full language, but she said that she would, and that Karen was doing fine.
Lynda watched, smiling under her full latex covered face, Karen working herself up, rocking her hips up and down, feeling the toys, pulling on her legs, experiencing the limits created by her bondage. She grabbed the neck chain and pulled herself up as high as she could, stretching her legs. Her breath became shakier. She grabbed the pump and gave it a full squeeze, moaning.
Oh shit! That was good, even extreme. Her hands hovered over the pump, hesitating between leaving it inflated like that or deflating it as her hip movements became faster, pulling hard on her legs, trying to close her legs to increase the feeling of the toys in her crotch. She twisted, quickly reaching the maximum play of the legs and neck chain.
That seemed to trigger something, as he body began to shake. Her hands quickly reached her crotch and pushed on the dildos. Her head was thrown backward as she let out a low pitch grunt, before all her muscles relaxing and her breathing slowing down to a more normal pace.
Like exhausted, she reached for the blow-up pump and deflated the gag, before pumping it back to a more comfortable size.
Lynda smiled. She would be okay.
She was running in a flowery field, full of color. The sun was shining and heating her shiny black arms, and she was amazed she could run in such a field with her high heeled boots. When she looked down, her feet were dangling a few centimeters over the flowers. She wasn’t running, she was flying. What a wonderful sensation. The soft wind was blowing her latex skirt, reaching her hot crotch where the toys were doing their jobs at pleasing her.
Something grabbed her hand, gently, moving upward, over her head. She felt a soft tug on it. The field of flowers began to fade before disappearing.
She felt herself, laying on her back, the blow-up gag filling her mouth, the blindfold keeping her in the dark. She moaned and tried to move, to stretch like anyone awakening from a wonderful dream would do, but she was reminded that her legs were tied spread out. She used her free hand to reach the blindfold, but it was stopped mid-way and gently pulled up, stretched out, to what would be the other corner of the bed, and linked to another chain.
She twisted. She loved that feeling of being restrained, stretched out. How? Why? She had no clue, but she liked it, and she… accepted it. As if it needed to be approved.
She heard a loud click, metallic, quickly followed by many more rapidly firing clicks, like something being cranked, and she felt her arms being stretched, pulled, farther away, stretching them, stretching her body, until her ankle cuffs began to resist. However, the cranking continued, the tightening, the stretching went on and on. Gently, but firmly.
She squirmed. She moaned. Damn! She loved it. ‘Tighter!’ she thought. ‘Yes! Again! TIGHTER’ she screamed in her mind, trying to rock her hips sideways, feeling the now strong pull on her legs, her hips, her waist, feeling the corset loosening, her shoulders. Oh, how she loved it. The clicking became slower. Only one click at a time now. Yes, the winch, or whatever was tightening, was getting very taut.
Everything became silent. She squirmed, testing the limits of her stretched body, feeling it, loving it. It sent shivers all over her spine. Oh yes. She could spend quite a long time like that.
Was she sick? Was that normal? She suddenly began to question herself, her sanity. How can someone actually like being… stretched out to the point of being unable to move?
She heard a buzzing sound getting closer, and closer. At the same time, her blow-up gag got inflated, again… and again, until her mouth was full, stretched, unable to open or closeé She felt the head of the vibrator, some kind of ball, on her shoulder, rubbing her cheek, her neck, then going down, between her breasts, doing little circles around them, then climbing up the left one, sending its vibration on her nipple, going down between them, only to climb the right one, then back again, on her chest, running down, slowly, doing swirls over her stomach, reaching her crotch.
She forced her hips up in the air, but she had no play. She was simply too stretched out. She wanted her crotch to rest harder on that vibrating toy, but whoever was holding it was reacting, pulling it away. Everytime she tried to squish her crotch against it, it would pull away. Teasing. Annoying. Frustrating.
She got the message. She kept still. Well, tried to. The Feeling was so good, and the teasing so intense. The vibrations were very well transmitted through her toys, both of them. She moaned, harder, louder. Instinctively, she tried to reach it, to touch it, to control it, but all she felt was the tug on her wrist cuffs. She tried to close her legs, but all she felt was the tug on her ankle cuffs.
Fuck! That was awesome! The vibrator was pressed harder against her crotch, sending her head backward, moaning, screaming. Whoever was holding it was perfectly knowing what it was doing, pulling it off at the right time, only to keep her on the edge, making her almost, yes, almost, lose it, then bring it back up, teasing, right off the edge, rubbing, squishing one of her breasts at the same time. She would scream in frustration when it was pulled off again, fighting her bonds, which only increased the pleasure and the frustration.
And then, maybe it was on purpose, maybe the vibrator wasn’t pulled away soon enough, an explosion of pleasure ripped apart her crotch, running through her convulsing body, pulling hard on her bonds, which did nothing but increase the pleasure, enhance the orgasm. She was back in her flowery field, each flower blooming, exploding in a never ending series of colors, perfume and pleasure. It was as the field was rolling under her feet, under her, because she was flying over it, like Superman, flying through this cloud of pleasure dust, not seeing the end of it, as it was only replaced by another field, with more flowers.
The vibrations slowly became weaker. The vibrator was doing circles around her crotch, larger and larger, going up to her stomach, getting weaker with every twist and turn.
The orgasm slowly subsided. She was panting. Hard. Very hard. She felt gentle hands rub her shoulders, like massaging them, even squeezed her breasts a few times, like to squeeze the last pleasure hormones out of some sponge. Karen reacted. Yeah, that actually felt good.
She felt being released. Gently, the tension on her arms and legs disappeared. She felt a soft rubbery hand rubbing her shoulder, getting up her left arm, reaching the wrist cuff, unlinking it, before doing the same on her right wrist, then her legs.
Karen rolled on her side, curling up on the bed, feeling the last remains of the orgasm, before slowly reaching for her blindfold and slowly, hands shaking, lifted it up.
She blinked a few times, the harsh daylight hurting. She saw her, Lynda, holding her pad in front of Karen’s face.
“Good morning, sweety.”
“Ooogmm mmooiiigghh” mumbled Karen through her inflated gag, reaching for the pump and deflating it herself, while Lynda helped to unfasten it.
She wrote more on her pad then showed it to Karen.
“If you want, breakfast is ready.”
“Where is Derek?” asked Karen, looking around.
“Already at work. It’s 9:30” she scribbled back.
Karen sat on the edge of the bed, feeling her dildos being pushed in. She looked at her shiny arms. She looked at her booted feet, liking the sight, liking the feeling.
“What’s going on with me?” she asked, looking at Lynda.
She raised and lowered her shoulders.
“It’s your body. Better listen to it.” she wrote back. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Karen looked at Lynda walking out of the dungeon, admiring how the lights were reflecting off her fully shiny body, enclosed into this tight and thick layer of rubber, the chastity belt, the corset, the extreme footwear. She wanted to feel it too.
She shook her head, trying to make some sense of it, or to send more oxygen up her brain, then got up, surprisingly steady on her heels, although her first steps were wobbly.
She sat down at the dining table, again, feeling the dildos being pushed up. The first gulps of coffee jumped-started her brain. Lynda was sitting in front of her, browsing the internet on her tablet or something.
Karen made herself some toasts, then cleaned her dishes, the counter and the table, everything she messed up, hearing the latex creak, seeing it shine under the sunlight entering the large windows of the dining room.
She walked to Lynda.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m just a guess and I’m really thankful for all you did so far,” she began to say, Lynda looking at her with a puzzling look, “but… I don’t want to push anything or look like an entitled bitch…”
Lynda quickly wrote on her tablet.
“Cut the crap, spit it out.”
“Uh… oh, okay, said Karen, slowly rubbing her leotard, “Do… do you think I can try something else, like… uh… a catsuit, or leg..ooohhhh…”
Lynda almost dropped her tablet, quickly putting it back on the table. She literally jumped on her ballet booted feet, a hand quickly reaching to a startling Karen who made a step back as a reflex but Lynda firmly grabbed her arms and pulled her along, heading to the dungeon.
“…I’ll take that as a yes.” said Karen, giggling, almost struggling to follow Lynda’s fast pace.
Lynda entered the large walk-in closet and walked directly to a hanging metallic pewter latex catsuit. She took it off the rack, glanced at it and handed it to Karen, who took it, glancing at it from the neck, to the attached gloves, down to the attached feet. She flipped it around, puzzled. There was only one small zipper at the crotch.
“How do you get it on?” she asked.
Lynda grabbed the neck, pointed her finger to it, and stretched it very wide.
“Through there? Geesh… I … in my dream… I didn’t think it was real.” she said, walking out of the closet, looking at the garment, while Lynda continued to browse in the closet, picking more stuff.
Karen sat down on the nearby bed, put the suit next to herself, and took off her thigh high boots before getting back up and turning her back to Lynda so she could untie the corset. She was relieved and at the same time felt a void when the tight embrace of the tight corset disappeared.
She slowly unzipped her leotard. Although the air in the room wasn’t cold, she felt a shiver when it touched her skin, the first time in a while. She peeled the leotard off, getting her arms off by pulling the sleeves inside-out. The sound it made reminded her of stretching party balloons prior to blowing them up.
She removed the panties, moaning at her toys. Lynda kneeled in front of her and gently pulled the toys out.
“Ooo, wow. Funny, I feel relieved and sad at the same time.” said Karen.
Lynda only shuddered, like if she was saying “Yeah, normal.”
Once she was out of her latex outfit, Lynda gestured to Karen to go take a relaxing shower before putting the catsuit on.
She was out a short time later, only to realize that she was walking on her toes. She giggled as she lowered her heel down. Could it be? Nah… It can’t… right?
Lynda handed Karen a bottle of lubricant and helped her get a heavy coating all over her body. The floor was getting quite slippery and she had to be careful.
Next, with Karen sitting on the latex covered bed, Lynda kneeled and stretched the collar of the suit, feeding it over Karen’s legs.
The first touch of latex made her shiver. It was strange. She was eager, yet scared. Why? What could go wrong? It was only latex. She just spent a day in a latex leotard. This is only a catsuit. Why that reaction as the latex rode up her legs as Lynda fed her feet into the legs of the suit and gently pulled it up, engulfing it, wrapping them in this metallic pewter material.
Her mind was filled with mixed emotions as the latex rode up her feet, her legs, her hips, her stomach, to just below her breasts where Lynda helped her get her arms into the now tightly stretched neck of the suit. She wondered how she dreamed of something like that, having never experienced it before? Was she hypnotized, brainwashed?
Like in a daze, she pushed her arms down the tight sleeves, feeling the rubber stretch over her hand until it reached the attached gloves, where each finger got isolated in its little latex pocket.
She flexed her fingers, gently, bent her elbows, moved her shoulders, feeling the latex slide over her lubricated skin, taking its place, the last pockets of air finding their way out with a little funny sound.
The pull was everywhere, equal, the same. No pinching, no tugging. That thing was comfortable. Very comfortable.
Her first thought was… ‘I can spend my life in this thing’.
Lynda gently showed her the latex hood, the same features as the first one, meaning black, with eyes and mouth hole, but a very large yoke that would almost cover her shoulders.. Karen did a discreet approving nod, and a few moments later, her head was engulfed into that smooth and smelly latex. Feeling the latex on her cheeks was… good. The sound dampened as it was pulled down, the latex tightening over her face, like a second skin, forcing her mouth shut, wrapping her neck.
Lynda carefully pulled on the suit’s collar, stretching it, to feed the large yoke inside it, placing carefully between her shoulder and the catsuit, removing all wrinkles. When she let go of the collar, the whole outfit felt as one single unit. She could feel the tug of the latex on her neck when she turned it, when she moved it. Damn, that felt so nice.
She gently rubbed her arms, feeling her fingers and at the same time, not feeling them. It was as if she was touching someone else, or someone else was touching her or… she was touching herself but not touching herself although she was the one controlling it.
Her breath was shaking when Lynda approached with a corset, but different than the first one which had been more of a waist cincher. This one was long, even covering her breasts, and made of shiny and very thick black rubber.
She raised her arms while Lynda wrapped it around her waist, closing the front busks, then going to the back and began pulling the lacing. Tighter. And tighter.
Instinctively, Karen lowered her arms to feel her waist being squeezed, which apparently was not helping Lynda tightening it.
She added large wrist cuffs to Karen’s arms, and had her move below the winch she had used the previous day. Karen quickly figured out what was going to happen: she would be stretched, which would help getting the corset closed.
Her breath was shaking as the winch was operated and her arms, her body, were stretched. She had to stand on her toes, on her latex socks, to keep her balance as Lynda pressed a knee in her back and pulled on the laces. She felt the tight latex over her leg muscles as she struggled with the pose. Her thighs were often rubbing against each other, sliding effortlessly, that rubbing being actually fun, enjoyable, so much that she did on purpose many times, even bending her knee, raising one leg, only to hit Lynda with it.
Lynda let out a sigh and fetched more cuffs she applied on Karen’s ankles, linking them to rings on the floor, stopping her legs from moving and… cranking the winch! Until she was really, fully stretched, literally standing on her toes!!
Oh damn! That was so… AWESOME!.
The corset was tightening, her breath was getting shorter, but she didn’t mind. She actually welcomed the struggle. Feet stretched, her toes barely touching the floor, she began to wonder how it would feel like in… ballet heels.
No, come on. Seriously. Ballet heels? She barely learned how to wear standart high heels. Then again, it’s not as if she struggled a lot for it.
Another strong pull that pushed all the air out of her lungs took her out of her daydream. That thing was getting tight. Very tight. Too tight. But she felt it was the end of it, as Lynda tied the lacing. And back to the closet she went, to return with… toys.
Large and long toys.
“You do not intend to…” began Karen, but she stopped as Lynda turned around heading again for the closet to come back with a leather harness… holding a large black ball gag.
Karen rolled her eyes,
“Oh shit!… Arrgghmmfffpff.” she managed to say before the ball was shoved into her opened mouth and the straps tightened behind her head.
In a concerto of rubber creaking sounds, Lynda crouched down and opened the crotch zipper. She dipped her fingers into a pot of lubricant then rubbed them over Karen’s very hot crotch, labia and even her butt hole, teasing her with first the rubbing, then by inserting her fingers inside the holes, playing with them, stretching the openings, even playing with the clitoris as she applied more and more lubricant.
Karen couldn’t look at what she was doing but only enjoyed the moment. The feeling of lubed rubber fingers was very soft and arousing. Oh, shure, she had had medical exams performed there before, but never this… playful.
She felt the fingers becoming larger before realizing that they had been replaced with the dildos, large, well lubricated and ribbed!
Lynda inserted the first one into her vagina, going in slowly, then gently stroking it in and out, all while Karen was moaning more and more, trying to switch position, to close her legs, but thanks to the semi-suspension, she couldn’t do much.
The corset, squeezing her stomach, had moved some organs down, which pushed inside her abdomen, increasing the feeling of pressure from the large dildo.
She moaned as she felt being inserted deeper and deeper. Damn! That thing was huge. The attention was moved to her butthole, where the same process of stroking the large intruder had her eyes pop out of her head. However, Lynda had a way with it that made it totally painless, only full of pleasure.
She played with both, moving them slightly before she casually and slowly closed the zipper on them, which kept them in place. The hands moved slowly around her crotch area, rubbing her inner thighs, her outer thighs, going up over her corset, where she lost the feeling of the fingers. She could feel something was touching her, but the corset removed all sensation. The hands reached her breasts, rubbing her shoulders, going up her neck, grabbing the back of her latex covered head, as she felt Lynda’s knee pushing on the dildos while her smooth mouth was approaching her gagged one, doing a virtual kiss, panel gag against ball gag. Oh damn! She was having sex without having sex!!
Lynda’s hands rode slowly down, to her shoulders, breasts, corseted waist, down to her hips and her knees, before riding up inside the legs. That’s when she felt something hard being applied on her crotch, as Lynda stood up again, working around her waist. Yes, something rigid was being pulled up. She could feel it on her crotch, lower stomach and now, on her back as Lynda wrapped her hands around her. It was very rigid. Steel rigid. A chastity belt?
She felt the plugs being pushed in even deeper as the steel belt was pulled up between her legs. She felt it being wrapped around her waist. She saw Lynds struggle to apparently close it. She could almost feel it squeeze her corset even tighter as she heard or rather felt a series of clicks before Lynda did a few steps back. Her eyes were showing her smiling. She was proud of the results.
Lynda left Karen to experience her new outfit, within her stretched position, as she went back again to the closet. She returned with something and kneeled at Karen’s feet. One cuff was removed and her foot was fed into high heel booties before the cuff was re-applied and linked to the stretching chain. The same process was repeated for the other foot.
Lynda did a last upward rub as she rose up and slowly walked behind Karen, wrapping a leather collar around her neck before lowering the winch. Little by little, the full extent of her setup was felt. As she was lowered on the floor, she could feel the high heels forcing her feet up, but mainly, she could feel the tight corset as now, her body was fully supported, constricted, squeezed by it as all her weight was put on her feet. It increased the pressure on her torso, increased also the pressure on her crotch, feeling the tight steel crotch strap of the chastity belt, feeling the dildos being pushed in even deeper. Her brain was overwhelmed by the sensation, and as soon as her wrists were released, she reached for her crotch, only to be forbidden access by the large steel plate covering her crotch.
That was so weird. She couldn’t feel her waist, only the rigid rubber of the corset, she couldn’t feel her crotch, thanks to the chastity belt. Hell, she couldn’t feel her body with the full catsuit.
Well, that’s what her brain was saying, but what came out of her gagged mouth was pure gag talk. But Lynda understood and released Karen’s feet from the floor anchors. She made her first steps, feeling the tight rubber, the corset, the belt, having to move differently, heck, almost having to learn to walk again.
A few steps and she had her hands again at her crotch, but not for long. Lynda grabbed them and linked them to D rings on the side of the chastity belt, then looking at Karen, she made a “no-no” gesture with her index finger right in front of her face. Karen smiled. She already loved being… punished.
She walked forward, then turned around, not knowing where to go. Well, she couldn’t figure out where she was, overwhelmed by all those new sensations. Lynda was simply looking. She knew what Karen was going through, one hand reaching for her crotch access forbidden. Yes, she knew.
She gently grabbed her upper arm to guide her out of the dungeon. Passing from the fetish room to the rest of the house was like going from inside to outside. She was in the real world now, but her own world was limited by her rubber skin, her limited breathing, her high heel walk. Only her eyes were… real. Was this the real life? Could it be her real life? Wait! What the hell was she thinking about? She can’t live her life like that. Yet… Lynda…
She couldn’t communicate with Lynda. She was gagged and she couldn’t even gesture or write with her wrists linked to her belt. Lynda led her to the kitchen and once there, crouched down to link her ankle cuffs with a short chain. She opened the pantry and retrieved a box of cereal. She ceremoniously opened the box, raised up high in the air and slowly tipped it while walking, spilling the cereal down, falling on the floor, spreading everywhere on the kitchen, over the counter, over the dining table, everywhere. Once the box was empty, she nonchalantly threw the box away over her shoulder, then pointed at Karen, then at the mess.
The directive was clear: you clean that mess now.
Karen was speechless. Well, she was gagged after all, but she pulled on her tied wrists on the sides of her chastity belt, asking to be freed. Lynda nodded no and put her hands on her hips in a dominant manner, then made the gesture again, pointing at Karen, then at the broom closet, then at the floor.
Karen complied, making her first few steps with the hobble chain. Yes, she had hobbled-walked before, but not in full latex, not in a corset that tight, and not with a chastity belt pushing on extra-large plugs! She moaned as she moved forward, stepping on the spilled cereal in the process, knowing that it will make it harder to pick up with simply a broom and a dustpan.
She reached the broom closet, got out the necessary tools and proceeded to swipe the floor. Well, actually, try to figure out how to swipe the floor holding the broom only with one hand, with such a hand linked to her waist with no play at all. The leather collar wasn’t very wide, but it was still getting in the way of bending her head.
The struggle made her fully realize her setup, the limitation, the restriction and the arousal it brought her, having to move her whole upper body, twist her torso in a different direction than her hips, only to be reminded that, thanks to the chastity belt, they were all linked together now. And she had to pull the chairs out from under the dining table to be able to sweep there, and she had to bend and…
Damn! After a few minutes, she was so hot she felt she could have an orgasm right there, right now, but the dildos were doing nothing else than teasing her. Tease her to the breaking point, but only tease her. At many occasions, she just stood up straight and tried to reach her crotch with her free hand, but was forbidden, as well as by the cuff than the chastity belt. Feeling the cuff pull against her arm, holding it back was a nice feeling. Wait again. Can someone take pleasure at being unable to do simple things for being restrained?
Lynda was watching her, undoubtedly satisfied. She did not offer help. She just watched Karen struggle and enjoyed the view. She could see Karen’s getting hotter and hotter. She could see her failed attempts to reach her crotch. She could decipher the subtle body movements Karen was making, to try to get an orgasm, to derive some intense pleasure from her predicament, but being unsuccessful every darn time.
She knew what was going through Karen’s mind. She had been there. She had done that. And re-living the whole experience but from the other side of the fence, was pure bliss.
It took Karen over an hour to gather all the cereal bits and pieces and dust, and to clean the kitchen. It had been especially challenging for the countertop, where her hands were just not at the right height.
She had a last look at her work, hobbled her way to the broom closet, stored everything, then hobbled back to the dining room, pulled a chair and sat on it.
“YIIIIKKMMF!!” she yelled through her gag.
Yes, the chastity belt just announced her back to her brain, including the two huge plugs it was pushing.
Karen raised her butt off the chair and froze. Should she sit down or should she get up? Her legs, her high heel booted feet were screaming SIT DOWN. Her crotch was screaming STAND UP.
But, oh, the feeling of those moving dildos! She sat down, slowly, moaning, eyes closed, feeling the belt push the dildos deeper inside her already very sensitive area. She tried, again, to reach it with her fingers, to no avail. She looked at Lynda in despair, doggy eyes, asking, begging her to do something. She was so hot, she was so horny.
Lynda took her tablet.
“You wanted the full experience, you got the full experience,, including the limitations, or frustrations that came with it.”
Lynda walked to the counter top. After all, with all this action, it was lunchtime and she was starving. She opened the refrigerator to take some sort of bootle of brownish smoothie. She filled the same large syringe/pump she saw Derek use to feed her the day before, plugged the tube of the syringe to her feeding tube and slowly pushed whatever was inside, down to her stomach.
Karen was simply looking at her. Was she hungry? For sex, yes. For food? Not so sure. Her stomach was crushed, her mouth was filled with a large rubber bag, not exactly all food appealing.
Once she had fed herself, Lynda took the loaf of bread, then opened the refrigerator again, got out some lettuce, some meat and other stuff, putting them all on the table.
“You can make yourself a sandwich or something. I’ll take off the gag when you’re ready to eat.” she said, approaching and unlinking Karen’s wrists from her chastity belt, but quickly re-linking them together and adding a length of chain from her collar to the wrists, a chain that was long enough for her to perform some basic duties, but NOT long enough to reach her crotch. Just a fingernail short.
Karen realized that she wouldn’t win. She made herself a sandwich and was surprised to be able to eat it completely. Well, she did a lot of exercise. Of course, she had the dishes to make, and quickly went on with it before Lynda did whatever she could have in mind.
But Lynda didn’t offer the gag back. She handed Karen sunglasses and invited her to follow her outside.
Outside. In full latex. Under the sun, which quickly warmed her suit. Damn, that felt great!
She just loved the feeling of the heat over her whole body, feeling the heat but not feeling the rays. Aain, weird. She wished she had absolutely no skin exposed, no eye holes, no mouth holes,. How would it feel to be completely encased? She wondered.
The afternoon went rather easily. No chores, just relaxing under the sun, but mainly under the shades. At one point, Lynda got up and invited Karen to follow. They had Derek’s meal to prepare.
They both had fun, teasing each other, Karen hitting her chastity belt on the counter many, many times. Lynda knew what she was doing. She also knew it was to no avail: she will NOT get an orgasm.
Derek came back home a little late. He quickly went by the bedroom to come back in full latex, except for his head, and high heel boots. He sat and began to eat.
“Well, Karen, I have some great news: Phil has been arrested.”
“Oh. Wow.” said Karen, with mixed feelings. It meant that she would have no more need to stay here.
“However… he added very calmly, “the district attorney wants you to testify against him. It means that we have to keep you safe until the trial, so you’ll have to stay in a safe house for a couple of weeks.”
“Testify? Against Phil… Err… No. I won’t. You know, there’s something very precious I’d like to keep, you know, like… my life.” said Karen.
“You have to testify. The main accusations come from you, from the data in your phone. You HAVE TO testify. Don’t worry, we’ll protect you. By any means.” said Derek.
Karen just stared at her feet.
“Uh.” said Karen. “I… I think I better get out of this…” she began to say, her voice shaking, mixed feelings, fear of facing Phil, fear of his reaction, and… fear of losing her latex skin.
“Well, that depends. The judge accepted my proposition as using my house as a safe house. Of course, one has to follow the rules of the house.”
Her smile was back on her face, along with Derek’s and Lynda’s. Sort of.
That night, she spent it again on the bondage bed, but spread eagled, as stretched as a bowstring. She loved every minute of it.
The next day started up similarly, with Karen sleeping through Derek’s departure from work and being awakened by Lynda.
As Lynda was writing suggestions of what to do, Karen had an idea.
“Say, Lynda. Apparently I’ll be here for a couple of weeks. Your tablet is just fine, but… do you think I can learn sign language? Wouldn’t it be easier for us to communicate? And…” she added, lowering her head like she was shy “… I… could stay gagged longer.”
What did she just say? She wanted to be gagged? Where did that come from? From the deepest point of her mind. Yes, she wanted it all.
Lynda applauded, her latex coated hands clapping loudly. Then she got up, turned left, no, turned right, made a few steps toward the dungeon, no, came back to the kitchen and headed for the counter, no, turned around…
“Relaxe Lynda.” said Karen. “It’s just teaching me to talk with my hands.”
She quickly grabbed her pad.
“No, it’s not. It’s me becoming a teacher, and you becoming a student and…” the phrase was cut short as she ran to the dungeon. Karen followed, keeping her distances. Once there, Lynda turned around a few times, like looking for something, then stopped, thinking. She literally ran back from the dungeon, grabbing Karen’s arm at the same time and dragging her outside, toward the garage!
She opened the door and entered the rather empty garage, except for some pieces of furniture, furniture that was NOT casual but evidently aimed at a dungeon. There, at the back, covered in sawdust, a padded chair.
A few minutes later, the two latex clad women were entering the house carrying that padded chair to the dungeon. It looked like a mix of a dentist chair, an office chair and an OB GYN exam table.
She literally pushed Karen on it, then ran to the closet, to come back with a bunch of leather straps, and she began to wrap Karen’s legs on it, drawing the straps very tightly, going up below the knees, over the knees, upper thighs, waist, under the breasts, over the breasts, ending with her forehead, tightly strapped on the headrest.
She couldn’t move, but she found her position to be quite comfortable. And every time she tried to move, she could feel the straps biting in her legs or torso, and also hear the noise of the latex creaking against the leather padded chair.
The last item was a large penis shaped gag,inserted deeply into her mouth, held shut by a smooth flap. That gag was going deep, almost triggering her gag reflex. She couldn’t produce any sound. Only her arms were free. Of course, it was to learn sign language.
Karen gently squirmed within her confinement. That was… interesting. Lynda walked out and came back with a paper chart! She set up the chart next to her and sat on a bondage bench in front of Karen, putting her tablet beside her. She wrote the first word on the paper chart and made the sign.
Karen repeated the sign, but not perfectly. Lynda made it again, but Karen failed again to do it perfectly. A third try and Karen purposely made the wrong sign.
Lynda calmly picked up her tablet and punched a key. Karen immediately jolted, kept firmly in place by the numerous straps holding her to the chair, and brought her hand over her steel protected crotch. That hurt. She realized that Lynda could send electrical shocks on her dildos! That was unfair. She couldn’t do the same to her.
But she got the message. She did the sign correctly. Lynda put up the next sign, and Karen repeated it. Then the third one, spelling “I need release”. Well, of course, the first order of business is safety.
Karen aligned the three signs correctly. Lynda reached for her tablet. Karen was bracing for the electrical shock, wondering what she did wrong this time, but instead of a shock, she was rewarded with a ten seconds vibration.
Oh, yes. Get zapped for a wrong answer, and vibrated for a good one. Of course. Very effective. Every two or three phrases, Lynda was coming back to the first one. Often, too often, Karen was zapped, forgetting a sign. They did a thirty minute session before Lynda made an end to it, stating that it was enough for a first session, that she should take time to memorize and assimilate the signs she had learned.
She casually approached Karen, safely strapped in the chair. She was expecting to be released, but instead, Lynda took more straps and linked her arms to the armrests, tightly and totally. When done, she couldn’t move.
And she left the room.
‘Wait, what?’ thought Karen ‘she can get up and take a break but I can’t’
She watched as Lynda punched a few things on her tablet and left, leaving Karen in the chair, very well secured, unable to move much.
She struggled, she moaned, the best she could do, trying to attract Lynda’s attention, to not forget her there, but she was gone. The more she struggled, the more she realized how tightly bound she was. But she liked it. She liked the struggle. She liked the constant reminder that she was unable to move.
She was slowly drifting away, gently squirming when she froze, her body tensed on her last struggle attempt. Her eyes were looking around the room. Did she really feel that? Did her toys become alive, but just for a fraction of a second? Was she dreaming that?
She relaxed her muscles. THERE! Again. Yes, her toys had moved.
She looked around, trying to see Lynda. Perhaps she had come back while she had her eyes closed and she was standing behind her, playing on her tablet but… the tablet was right there, on the bondage bench, in plain sight of Karen. What was…
Oh, again. Longer this time. It lasted a good two seconds. She tried to make the best of it, slowly squirming. Oh she got it! Somehow, by squirming slowly, she triggered some start button on her toys, which turned them on. That was it. That had to be it. What was she doing when it pulsed? Oh, yes, she was trying to get her hips up. She tried again, pulling hard against the very tight belts.
Nothing. She tried to squirm sideways. Nope. Damn, she wished she could move her hand, to get her fingers between the chastity belt and the dildos and push on the… buzzzzz. Oh, fuck. What did she do this time?
There, on the doorway, stood Lynda, looking at her. Not moving. Karen looked at her, fire in her eyes, screaming to be release her or to do something with the toys. Lynda wiggled her latex fingers in a bye-bye way and walked away.
Karen grunted. She pulled as hard as she could on all her bounds, but of course, nothing gave up. She let herself drop on the chair.
Buzzz… Buzzz… Buzzz, buzzz.
Oh, fuck! It was on some kind of pattern, probably managed by some app on the tablet. Of course, since Lynda could trigger them through the tablet, that had to be…
Oh my! Karen closed her eyes. All she had to do was let it flow. The pattern was constantly changing. Sometimes it was her crotch, sometimes it was her butt plug, sometimes it was both. They were vibrating, knocking, humping, without any definitive pattern, nothing seemed to be repeating.
And the more aroused she got, the more she pulled on her bounds, and the more aroused it made her. She couldn’T believe that being simply tied up was such a turn on. Then again, she was not tied up as a prisoner, but as a … plesure slave? Was that it? She was nothing more than a… rubber slut.
‘Oh, the hell with it.’ She thought as another series of vibration engulfed her lower belly. There were even electrical jolts, but they seemed to bring pleasure instead of pain.
Eyes closed she let herself be transported in a world of pleasure, or latex, of bondage, as the orgasm built up rapidly, and then, as if the devices had a brain of their own, just when it was really becoming interesting, everything stopped.
Frustrated, she grunted, she tried to move within the confine on the chair, trying to trigger the dildos again. Lynda was nowhere in sight. That was nonetheless devilish.
Trying as she might, she couldn’t regain the momentum. The toys were silent. Oh, well, maybe that was the reward, and a more powerful one would be administered after the next lesson.
She began to doze off. And that’s the moment the toys fired again, doing once more, their devilish patterns. She got aroused again, and it seemed to be more powerful. Yes, she was reaching the orgasm. Finall… Fuck. Everything stopped again.
That was really devilish, being teased that way. A few moments later, it started again. Yes, it was the same pattern. She was starting to memorize it now. And, once again, just as she reached the orgasm, it stopped.
Four sessions. FOUR FUCKING SESSIONS were needed before she exploded, which was a mixed feeling. She was so expecting to be cut short right on the edge that when she finally launched, she didn’t believe it at first, but the toys went on, even more powerful. Suddenly, she was glad to be secured that much. She felt the chair move on the slick floor as the orgasm made her struggle so hard, she was afraid that if the straps were to let go, she would fly across the room.
Her mind was a mess. It was like a ping-pong ball of pleasure was bouncing all over inside her head, each time it bounced, it triggered another pleasure, in another part of her brain. And when the electrical jolts were added, her brain fried of pleasure. She was moaning, she was screaming, and the more she struggled, the more she felt the restraints, the more powerful the orgasm was!
‘What the hell is happening to me? Oh, just enjoy it, Karen,’ she said to herself.
The orgasm slowly subsided as the toys gradually lowered their powers until everything crawled to a stop.
She was panting in short gasps, feeling the limitation of her crushing corset. Damn, she loved it. Her whole setup, the feeling of the latex over her skin, the crushing corset, her head encased in rubber, the large gag, the high heels, and of course the toys and the belt, all seemed to have gone tenfold, all seemed to be more intense, more enjoyable.
Eyes closed, she slowly faded away.
Some time later, time she couldn’t put into perspective, Lynda came back to free her. She was still literally floating on pleasure hormones. They did one more learning session in the afternoon, with the same outcome. Karen was by then, willing to learn all the languages of the planet, and she thought this method would be very successful in any school, on any learning matter.
When Derek came home at the end of the day, he was surprised and pleased that Karen tried to learn sign language. For about 20 days, the routine was the same: wake-up, do the daily chores, learning sessions, reward, and sleep tied up. She tried ballet boots a few times, but she struggled too much, although she was getting better with time.
The latex catsuit, the hood, tight corset, the toys, the chastity belt were all part of her daily routine, and she felt a void when she had to take them all off for sanitary reasons.
Then Derek went home with the news she dreaded to hear.
“Phil is going on trial. We need your testimony. It’s the key to send it to prison for good.” said Derek between two bites of the dinner Lynd and herself had prepared.
Suddenly, she was no longer hungry. She had butterflies in her stomach. Since she was not intubated, she put her fork down and slowly swallowed the last bite she took, not saying a word.
“Of course, “ he continued, “to appear in court, you can’t go like that.
“Oh…” she said, rubbing her latex encased thighs, thinking how naked she will feel without her beloved latex skin, without her corset.
“You don’t have to take it all off, if you don’t want to, Karen. They need to see your face and your hands, to confirm your identity, and since you’ll go through metal detectors…” he said, trailing off, knowing what it implied for Karen: no toys, no chastity belt.
She felt a void, without the toys, without the belt, but she was still able to hide a catsuit under normal clothes, even wear her corset, and wearing high heels was not forbidden. She was put on the stand the very first day, but she had to be present for the whole process in case she was asked again, because she was a key witness.
Phil’s eyes were full of rage when she took stand and she told what happened. He perfectly knew her testimony would put him down. For good.
The next day, as she was about to change from the full latex catsuit to one without attached hands, Derek stopped her.
“You’ll be fine without the hood off. You can keep everything else. Maybe just wear leather gloves over your latex hands so as not to trigger too many questions.” he said with a wink.
And off she went, spending the last four days of the trial in full latex gear, sitting carefully each time so the belt wouldn’t bang too loudly and attract attention. Being in full latex, corset, chastity belt and even toys, in public, brought a whole new level of pleasure. Hiding in plain sight was fun.
That made her even hornier. And then the thought of reality sinked in. With Phil out of the loop, although the verdict hasn’t been told, she would no longer need to hide at Phil’s place. Meaning she would go back to her regular life. A life of… nothing. No place to stay, no latex clothes, no corset, no… Damn. She almost wished Phil did something crazy, forcing her to stay with Lynda and Phil.
Phil was found guilty. As he was escorted out of the courtroom, he stared at Karen.
“You will never be safe, Karen. I will get to you and I will make your life a living hell before you’ll die. I know people.” he yelled as the door closed behind him.
Karen was shocked. Fear was getting the best of her. Once back home, Derek could tell she was afraid. They sat at the dining table.
“Everything will be fine, Karen. He can’t harm you from jail. Every criminal threatens the person or persons who put them to jail, but nothing really comes out of those threats. You will have police protection until things calm down.”
“Yes, I… I understand.” she said, rubbing her latex covered arm. “So… I have to… give this back before I go back… fuck. Where do I go now? I was living with Phil. I have no place to go. I don’t even have any money… remember?” she said, sobbing.
“You can stay here for the time being, Karen.” said Derek while at the same time, getting Lynda’s approval. “We’ll figure something out,” he said, “we won’t let you down.”
She realized, at the same time, that she will have to let go of her catsuit, her corset, and her toys. She thought that, if she asks nicely, Derek and Lynda could… give them to her?
Who the fuck is she kidding here? She’s homeless and jobless. She has no use, no need for this.
“Hey, hey. Put a smile back on that face. I said we’ll take care of it.” said Derek.
“Snap out of it or you’ll spend the next 24 hours tied up in the dungeon,” said Lynda.
Karen looked at Lynda with her mouth open, trying to process what she said.
“Wait… You want me to be happy or you’ll tie me up?”
She could see Lynda’s shoulders jumping up and down. Yes, she was fully aware of what she told, and she found herself quite funny. Karen crossed her arms and pouted.
“I am not happy.”
The next day, Phil was back home and was helping Lynda take Karen off the wall rack after being kept immobile, but very much teased and tormented, for the last 24 hours. She collapsed on the bondage bed.
“I… I think I’ll be unhappy for the rest of my life.” said Karen. “What? What is it?” she said, looking at Derek who didn’t have a smiling face, but a rather concerned one.
“I have some bad news,” he said.
“Uh… when do I have to leave?” said Karen, understanding that she had to get out on her own.
“That is not the problem. It’s a part of it now: Phil escaped.”
“What?” said Karen and Lynda at the same time.
“The transport van driving Phil to the state prison was attacked and Phil was freed. Two officers were wounded in the process.”
“Uh… that means that… I’m in danger or… no longer in danger since he got away?”
“Well… I just want to state that we will give you the protection you need, but Phil apparently declared that he was out to find and to kill you, so you will never send him to jail again.”
All the blood drained from Karen’s face.
“What now?” she managed to ask, shaking.
“Ever heard of the Witness Relocation Program?” he asked.
“Yeah, mostly in movies. A new identity is given to the person, even a job, elsewhere in the country, or something like that.”
“Yes, something like that,” he said. “What do you think?”
“I will not be safe anywhere.” she said. “I have to find a place to… hide.” she said, realizing that this was what she had wished, but the reality was different than in her dream. The fear factor was there, and no latex or corset could take that away.
“For now, you’ll be secure as long as you stay here,” said Derek, putting his latex gloved hand on Karen’s rubber covered arm to reassure her. “The time needed to set up the WRP.”
“You mean to get all figured out, the new place, identity, and stuff, right?” she said, lowering her head. She knew what it meant. She will soon leave the house. Leave Derek. Leave Karen. Leave the dungeon, the latex, the bondage. Everything.
“Yes and no. You see, there’s this new Witness Relocation Program you might want to get involved in.”
“Uh… new? New and improved, with more zest or something?” she said, sarcastically.
“It depends on one’s point of view,” said Derek, smiling.
“What is so special about it?” she asked.
“I… I can’t tell you too much. But one thing I can tell you is that it will be the best thing that has happened in your life so far.”
Karen raised her eyebrows. “Really?” she said, not really believing it. “Living in fear of being recognized and killed? Unless it involves plastic surgery?”
“Hey, that’s an idea? Ever thought of changing your name to Ken?” said Lynda.
“That’s a bad joke, Lynda.” he said, laughing nonetheless. “You’re gonna have to trust me on that. Do you? I will make the necessary arrangements.”
“What’s so special about it?”
“Well, for once… you keep all this,” he said, showing her latex outfit.
“Say… duh… euh… what?” she managed to answer.
The next day, Karen had to sign some documents, in front of a judge, accepting that she would enroll into the Special Witness Relocation Program. She was in full latex, except for her head, and the judge didn’t make a single comment at the latex fingers holding the pen. It was explained that she will learn all the details once at the WRP facility and if she was not willing to go through with the Special Program, she would simply be referred to the regular one. No pressure. It was her choice.
A few days later, a delivery truck stored some large crates in the garage, and when Derek came home, he led Karen and Lynda to it.
“So, that Witness Relocation Program is very special. So special that its exact location is unknown, even by myself, so I wouldn’t accidentally give it up. It’s so secret that you have to be… ahem… shipped in.” he said, pointing to a long hi-tech looking crate that could fit an adult, laying down.
“You’re not serious?” asked Karen, a mix of apprehension and eagerness scrambling in her brain.
“Yes I am. And believe me, it’s all safe.”
“If you don’t even know where it is, how can you be so sure?” asked Karen.
“Because… she knows.” he said, putting his hand on Lynda’s shoulder.
“Go there in full confidence.” gestured Lynda.
Somehow, Karen had flashbacks of her weird dream of being plastic wrapped and stuff, but she saw no wrapping machine. Only this large crate made of fiberglass or something, the size of a human body, made her think of a coffin, and a few cardboard boxes. As if he could feel her questions, he opened one of the boxes, to reveal foam peanuts.
“Packing stuff,” he said. “As you can see, the bottom of the box is already padded. You’ll be secured in it. You’ll be wearing a gasmask to help you breathe, then the rest of the space will be filled with those peanuts to ensure a safe and secure transport.
“It’s the only way to get into that program.” he said, cutting short to Karen’s question.
“If you want to, yes, but you can take a few days to think about it. If you don’t want that program, you’ll be referred to the classic WRP, and you’ll have to take off your latex outfit.”
“Okay, let’s do it.” said Karen, turning to Lynda. “Any advice?”
“Yes,” said Lynda, “ask for the thickest catsuit.”
“Uh… Okay. thanks. I guess.” she said, approaching the crate. She could see the layout of a human body slightly imprinted on the gel making the mattress of the box, with a bunch of leather straps. She would be very well secured, indeed.
She took place. It was actually quite comfortable. Then Derek proceeded to tighten the wide straps. Very tightly, so tight that she felt sunken into the gel mattress. A gasmask was put over her face and linked to some sort of air pump. She could immediately feel the fresh air being forced in. Then her head was secured with more straps. She couldn’t move a muscle.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get… entertained.” said Derek before disappearing from her narrow field of view.
She felt something at her crotch, on the chastity belt. No, it was poking her toys, like… screwing in. She felt a few tugs on her dildo then that was it.
The last things she saw was Lynda giving her two thumbs up and Derek giving her a reassuring smile before pouring the first box of foam peanuts over her. They weighed nothing so she barely felt them, until the cover was closed. Evidently, there were too many peanuts and she felt compressed, squeezed, the last movements she could do, which was wiggling her fingers, were suddenly gone. She just loved it. She was in her own little world. She tried to squirm, to move, but she was totally immobile. Damn, she was so hot, but even squeezing her thighs muscles was not enough to induce real pleasure. She was just teased.
It seemed like an eternity before she felt carried, moved, rather abruptly. Of course, the truckers were not aware that a human being was in the crate, so they didn’t take any more precautions than with an ordinary package. And that’s when she felt it.
At least, that’s how she called it. What Derek had screwed to her dildo was some sort of weight, moving when the crate was moving, slightly pushing and pulling her dildo in and out. Oh damn! And if the bump or the action was too strong, the weight was reaching the end of its stroke, which created a jolt, like if the dildo was gently hit by a small hammer. Damn!
She was driven for a while, each acceleration, each deceleration, playing with her dildo, keeping her on the edge. She loved it, until she was unloaded and everything felt silent. That was devilish. After being teased and tormented for some time, everything was dead!
And it stayed like that some time, enough for her to doze off. She couldn’t hardly believe it herself: there she was, all covered in rubber, gagged, with a gasmask, secured with dozens of straps, unable to move, hidden inside a common wooden crate, being transported to some place she had no clue. Wait. What the hell had she done? What did she know about Derek and Lynda in the first place? He was a policeman. But even the police are corrupted. Judges are corrupted. What if… What if he works for Phil?
She realized her situation. She squirmed. She tried to get out. She had changed her mind. She tried to scream to… no. Nothing worked. There was no way out. Damn! That was so arousing!
She was being picked up again, carried, moved, loaded into something. Then she recognized the sensation of being in a plane. Wherever that WRP was taking place, it was far from her home. Wait. Which home?
The flight was very long. There were two changes of planes, then some truck transport on a very rough road, which made her glad she was so well protected and restrained. Not so glad at her toys who screwed her again and again, bringing her to the edge or the orgasm without being able to reach it. That was so devilish! Teased, tormented and… denied.
Finally, everything came to a rest. She felt a sudden loss of squeezing, then the foam peanuts were removed. Looking down over her, two latex covered faces, and a third one, the head of a blond woman, smiling.
“Welcome to your new temporary home of the Special Witness Relocation Program, Karen. We’ll take good care of you.” said the blond woman.
A few moments later, she was helped to raise on her feet and out of the crate. She was unsteady, her crotch was still on fire.
“I am Sandra, the manager of the program.” said the blond woman, sporting a red latex catsuit, an extremely tight corset and a chastity belt, standing on ballet boots. “This is Nicole and Joan.” she said, pointing at the two latex clad women who helped her out of the crate. “They’ll be your mentors for the time needed to get accustomed to your new life.”
“Nice to meet you.” said Karen in sign language.
“I know the trip here might be a little overwhelming,” continued Sandra. “Nicole and Joan will escort you to your room so you can calm down a little, get blood back at the, ahem, right places, and clear your mind. You just have to come here, which is the common area, when you feel ready.”
“Thank you.” said Karen, still fogged up and disoriented.
She was led down a small corridor with multiple doors. They stopped in front of door number 12.
“This will be your room for your stay. It’s your own private place.” said Joan, opening the door.
Karen got inside. It was a small room with a bed and a chair. Nothing else. A window was giving a wonderful view of the surrounding area, full of high mountains.
“You are free to go anywhere, except to other private rooms, of course, and if you have an emergency, that large red button over your head is there for that. Just press it and someone will rush in to see the problem.” said Nicole. “Enjoy your stay.” she added before closing the door.
Karen slowly walked to the window and looked outside. This place was on some exotic land, almost looking like a fantasy land, with tall peaked mountains, lush vegetation. She was seeing a ravine from afar with what appears to be a waterfall.
“Almost looks like… the Jurassic Park set.” she said to herself.
She turned around to examine her room. The bed and the chair were covered in latex, and on the walls, a bunch of steel rings looked to have been placed at strategic points. She could almost see someone tied up there. She could almost imagine herself tied up there. She put a hand at her crotch. Yes, the chastity belt was still there.
On the wall next to the door, a small plan of the facility. There seemed to have something like twenty or so rooms, the common area, the kitchen, and that was it. Wait, what. No dungeon?
She shook her head to snap out of it. She hasn’t been sent to a dungeon of pleasure but to get a new life. That was silly. Why this all-rubber thing for a new life? How will she get a job? That was so weird. If this wasn’t a prison, why were they so isolated?
She walked back to the common area. There was no one. Then, she noticed it: the large patio door. She walked to it, already feeling the strong sunlight hitting her latex suit and warming it as she got closer. The door was opened and she carefully stepped outside. The sun was past its zenith, indicating that it was mid-afternoon.
The scenery was marvelous, dream-like. It looked like a volcanic island or something. Large, colorful birds were flying overhead. She took a deep breath, filling her mind with all those wonderful odors. She sort of felt out of place, in full latex outside in the wild. She slowly looked around, then stopped and internally made a large smile. There it was. The dungeon, filled with bondage posts, tables, whipping benches, stocks and all sorts of devices to tie someone up and torment it. OUTSIDE!
She approached. She counted seven people, including Sandra within the area. Some were fully setup, tied up, suspended, others were teasing those tied up while the rest, including Sandra, were sitting in long chairs, under the sun.
Sandra saw her.
“Hello Karen. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’ll be happy to answer them when you’re ready. Or, if you prefer, although I know you’ve been restrained for many hours already, if you want to be set up anywhere, just ask, or if you just want to sit in one of the chairs, it’s your choice..” she said, making a broad gesture at the equipment.
That was a weird decision to make. Yes, she wanted to know more. Derek had told her that the whole program would be explained only once there, so yes, she had a lot of questions. On the other hand, she had been teased and tormented for the last hours, and she desperately wanted relief.
She pointed to a bench where she would be rendered immobile while a vibrator would be pushed against her crotch.
She recognized Joan, quickly applauding her choice.
“Why is that?” asked Karen.
“Simple: you just confirmed that you’re right for the program. Your priority is pleasure and bondage over knowing what this is all about. Come on, I’ll fix you up.”
A few moments later she was immobile with a vibrator pressing against her chastity belt. Joan approached with a blindfold but just before she lost her vision, she saw, not very far, Sandra, holding a tablet.
Everything went dark.
All hell broke loose!
It started softly, nonetheless. A short, low speed burst on her dildo. Then another one on her butt plug. Then the vibrator. Then the bursts became longer, stronger. The sequence changed. The time for each burst also changed. It seemed random but at the same time, appeared to be the best sequence to tease her.
Her breath became heavier, faster, limited by the restriction of the corset, which only increased the pleasure. The air was whistling through her nostrils. She squirmed, only to be reminded that she was going nowhere. She tried to move her body to press harder on the vibrator, but the very limited movements she was allowed didn’t do much, but whoever was controlling the toys evidently saw it and… stopped everything.
Fucking upsetting. Very frustrating. But damn arousing.
She squirmed harder, and the harder she squirmed, the stronger the straps holding her to that bench were biting her body, and the hotter she was becoming. And it wasn’t just the sun hitting her suit, bringing its own new sensation.
The toys were brought back to life, again with their seemingly random pattern that happened to hit the right spot everytime. The pleasure grew, rapidly. Her eyes, or rather her mind, began to see swirling color patterns, even fireworks seemed to explode in her brain as the orgasm built stronger and stronger, and each time it was about to burst, there was a change in the pattern and she was taken down, just a little, like getting approaching your favorite food to your mouth, and as soon as it touches your lips, it is pulled back, giving you its smell, even a tiny bit of its taste, enough to get your mouth all watery, and it is pulled away, where you can still see it but not eat it, and it is brought closer again, and again, and finally, you can eat it.
The taste, the smell fills your mouth, the texture wraps your tongue, you can feel it on your cheeks, the right temperature, the sweetness, the acidity, the spices, everything is a sensory overload.
And that’s where the pleasure exploded. Karen was shaking on the bench, the leather straps were creaking against the strain as her body was run by strong convulsions. She was panting, her brain was getting overloaded with sensations and literally phased out. She wasn’t feeling her body anymore. The restraints weren’t there. It was like an out of body experience. All she was feeling was pleasure. Deep, powerful, strong sexual pleasure.
Yes, that was the life she was waiting for, to be enclosed in latex, tied-up, teased, tormented and brought to orgasm, out of her control.
Later, she ate with them. With herself and Sandra, there were eight people in all. It was weird to see all of the other participants of the program, all plugged to some syringe to eat. Except for herself and Sandra, of course. For now.
Slowly, the feeling of her body, of the latex sliding over her sweaty skin, the straps biting into her flesh, her force immobility came back, and each move, each tug against a restraint, brought back a little bit of that pleasure, like licking your lips after that wonderful mouthful, to get the last bots of flavors, that last tingling of the tongue, that last shiver.
She was left there to recuperate, all strapped down. She didn’t mind, she actually liked it, enough to fall asleep.
She was awakened when she felt her body being released.
“Welcome back to fantasy land.” said Sandra, a weird smile on your face. “Damn, that was powerful. You’re okay.”
“Can’t be better.” answered Karen.
The other participants at the program have all been released of their own predicaments and they all headed for the large dining room. It was a strange meal sharing. Some of them, like Karen, removing her gag to eat, others using the same syringe she saw Lynda use to force some kind of paste through their feeding tube. Hum… Could it be?
They all sat in the common area, some playing on a tablet, browsing the Internet, other watching the TV, others simply doing nothing.
“You go to bed when ready, Karen. There’s no curfew, no schedule. You get up in the morning when you feel up to it. No rules. Unless you set your own. Like for sleeping. You can go as-is. You can take off your suit, you can sleep free or tied up”
“Tied up. I think.” said Sandra.
“Come. I’ll show you the self-bondage devices.” said Sandra, leading the way to Karen’s room.
She showed her the magnet release device setup at different anchor points. There was a tablet on the table next to the bed. With it, she could control the release mechanism as well as her toys.
After Sandra was gone and she was alone, she set herself to the bed, spread eagled, her last wrist held with the magnet thing. She didn’t think it would be really strong but to her own surprise, she was totally unable to get free. She had just enough play to reach the emergency button, if needed.
She closed her eyes and chewed on her gag. A few minutes later, as she was falling asleep, her toys went back to life. Just a faint hum, just to make it fun. She fell asleep not long after that, with pleasure at her crotch and a large smile on her face.
The next day, after breakfast, she met Sandra who explained her options, adding that she will not consider any choice made in the spur of the moment, that she had to wait, to think about it, that it was a long-term commitment, to talk to the others, because although some choices allow for some change, once other choices are made, there might be no going back. There was no rush. She would not get a new life before at least one month or even more, depending on how strongly the criminals she pissed off were looking for her. They would wait for things to calm down.
She already had ideas of what she wanted. She nonetheless changed her mind a few times.
Three weeks later, hand shaking, she was signing the necessary papers.
She will get a new life. A weird, fantasy-driven one.
“All is settled then, Karen. We have everything we need. The procedure will take place tomorrow.”
To Be Continued. SEQUEL: Another Wrong House HERE
26 of November 2022
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