Note: Please be sure to read the two previous parts of this story:

• LocktoberFest
• LocktoberFest2: Visiting Germany

She opened her eyes but all was black. She tried to move but could only squirm, feeling her restraints firmly holding her in place on the bondage table. She moaned. Yes, of course, she liked it. That was the best feeling in the morning, waking up and feeling yourself totally restrained! Too bad that, in a few weeks, all of this will be over, but she had to return to the reality of life, and that reality was NOT being enclosed in rubber and kept in bondage at all times.

Too bad.

What time was it? She had no clue. It could be the middle of the morning as well as the middle of the night, although she usually sleeps her healthy eight hours per night. But last night was different. She had dreams. Weird dreams, triggered by the anxiety of being shipped out in a crate by sea.

Well, she remembered arguing with the security agent at the airport to board the plane that would take her back home. She understood his arguments: there was no way she was able to prove who she was. He had no way to confirm her identity, not even doing a retina scan if this was an option, thanks to the dark lenses of her gas mask. Fingerprints? Forget it. He couldn’t even tell the color of her skin, and she couldn’t speak, thanks to the large gag filling her mouth.

The only solution would have been a DNA sample, but of course, that was out of the question. She just had to take that silly outfit off, but she plain couldn’t.

“Sure, I have a knife here. I can cut out of it in a few seconds”.

She decided to back off, return to Sandra’s BnB, and review her options.

Mistress’s ultimate option was to ship her cargo, by sea. But… How do you ship someone cargo? In a cage? She was… living stock, after all. She couldn’t simply be put into one of those wooden crate. Would she?

So, her anxiety grew, imagining all sorts of scenarios, all sorts of setups, from being caged to being dismantled into pieces to be reassembled once in Canada. Nightmare stuff.

She heard noises. Something was being moved near her. She heard voices. She recognized Sandra’s but also one of a man. Or was it two men? Something heavy was seemingly dropped on the floor and she heard the voices walk away. It was silence again. The crate has arrived. Or maybe not. She didn’t know what it was.

She squirmed harder, trying to attract the attention of someone, but all it did was arouse her. Damn, she just loved to be tied up, restrained to the point of not being able to move.

She moaned and squirmed, feeling the tug on her restraints. Even her head was strapped down and she couldn’t turn it or move it at all.

She felt a touch on her left leg, and then the pressure of one of the straps decreased as she was slowly being released. One by one, the five straps, holding each one of her legs were loosened. Then the one over her hips, her waist, lower chest, and upper chest, there were three straps holding each one of her arms, the shoulder strap, the head strap, and finally, the neck strap.

She felt a hand gently slide under her neck and pull her upward so she could sit. She moved and took place on the edge of the bondage table. The caps covering the lenses of her gas mask were removed. She blinked a few times. Sandra was there, smiling.

“Ta-Da!” she said, showing a crate near the door.

Karen was startled.

It was a plain wooden shipping crate. And rather large for that matter, about 1.5m on each side and about 1m high. Sandra handed Karen a powered screwdriver and they proceeded to remove the screws holding up the lid, taking it off and looking inside. They both looked at each other, puzzled.

There was another box inside it, much smaller, about 1.3m long, 1m wide and less than a meter in height. The space around that box was filled with what looked like electronic controllers and reservoirs of some kind. There was an instruction sheet with it. Sandra read it as it was written in German, nodding, looking at the devices, pointing them, grunting, nodding.

“Ah… Oh… Ja… Gut… Oh, schön… Wirklisch?… Okay…”

Karen tapped on Sandra’s shoulder, inquiring, but Sandra raised a finger telling her to wait. She wasn’t finished.

“Ja… Beeindruckend… Ja… okay, erm… Here it is, Karen. All these reservoirs here are for food and waste. I have to prepare some nutrient broth with the instructions provided, then fill this container with it, then this one is filled with water. This one will collect your… waste. This the breathing air filtering and supply, the battery pack, and you’ll be… contained in this box.” she said, pointing to the smaller box, and reaching down to take a large plastic bag, still reading the instructions. “Oh, and what I have here is special plugs I have to put… Ja… and there’s a key to access your dildos… and this one goes through your gasmask mouth gag plug… Ach wirklich? Ich kann das machen?… I’ll have to cut off your current gag to insert those tubes… Verdammt! That’s severe! But… you can read the diagram by yourself, Ja?” said Sandra, handing Karen one of the pages of the instructions. It shows how Karen would be installed inside the box and how she would be plugged.

Oddly enough, the more she heard about how she was going to be crated, the more… aroused she became. She would be, for lack of a better word, plugged to a machine that would keep her fed and cleaned for the duration of the trip. There would be enough of everything for one month’s worth, although the trip should last two weeks. Once Sandra had explained everything to her, Karen simply raised her arms so they were lightly away from her body, in a “I’m ready, let’s do it” gesture.

Sandra proceeded with the toys first. Using the provided key, she removed the plate holding the plugs in place. Karen moaned as for the first time in weeks, she felt the intruders slowly slide out. Sandra even played a little with them, re-inserting and pulling them off a few times, until it became clear that Karen was enjoying it too much.

The new plugs seemed even bigger and they had attached wires. Yes, of course, some valve needed to be operated by the machine, or something like that.

She put back the holding plate in place, which pushed the extra-large plugs even deeper, making Karen moan as much as pleasure as relief of feeling herself plugged again. For a moment, she couldn’t believe how much she was addicted to being plugged now and she wondered if returning to a normal life would be something feasible or if she would have to…

Sandra pulled her out of those thoughts when she took a small saw and saw off the stem from the central part of the gasmask, revealing a tube going through Karen’s embedded ballgag.

“I’ll be damn!” said Sandra. “There’s is apparently just a snap-off cap plugging the other side of the ballgag, inside your mouth. All I have to do is punch it out… with this tool,” she said, producing some kind of hook.

She inserted it into the gag. Karen felt it touch the end of it. Then Sandra twisted and twisted. There was a snap and Karen felt a rush of fresh air through the gag. For the first time in weeks, she was breathing through her mouth. Weird.

She took a tube from a sealed bag and carefully looked at it before inserting it through the ballgag.

“Now you have to… swallow,” said Sandra as she gently pushed the tube down Karen’s throat.

That wasn’t fun. Karen was gagging and Sandra had to refrain from pulling it out. The instructions clearly said to continue until the proper length of said tube was inserted.

Karen was flapping her hands in the air, also alternating between letting it get pushed in or pushing Sandra away and pulling that thing out. Finally, it reached the proper length.

“How is it?” asked a puzzled Sandra.

“so-so” answered Karen with the appropriate gesture. She really had no other choices, didn’t she?

Sandra, still following the instructions, applied some kind of rubbery paste on a steel flange and pushed it in place on the opening of the gasmask, sealing the tube in place. She took the plug of the gas mask and pushed it back in place. There was a place for a small padlock, which she applied.

“There… all done. The key for the feeding tube will be in the crate. Are you okay? You still want to go through this?” asked Sandra. “You know, you can still use power tools and…”

Karen waved her no, then pointed at the crate making two thumbs up. That’s the way she wanted to go. She wanted to experience this. Wait. What? Damn, what was happening to her?

“Oookayy…” trailed off Sandra. “Ready when you are. Just… erm…” she said, reading the instructions again, “Just sit on the edge of the crate with your feet in the box. I have to… tie you up.”

Karen froze for a moment. Of course, she would need to be tied up… Being encased into a crate was not enough… Yeah, right. As she carefully sat on the edge of the crate, feet dangling inside the box, she realized that this was it. There was no way back now.

Sandra took plain quick links to link her ankles and knees together, she then asked her to kneel in the box. She took the tubes and attached them to the plugs of the new dildos as well as the ones for her gasmask, food and air, after removing one of the filters.

“Put your arms on your back,” instructed Sandra.

Karen complied and her wrists and elbow were linked with, again, simple quick links.

“According to the instructions, this is to make sure that you won’t accidentally unplug any of the hoses.” Explained Sandra.

Karen shuddered. Whatever the reason was, she needed to do it, right? Needed or wanted? That was another question.

Karen then crammed herself into a fetus-like position in the restricted space provided by the small box. Sandra opened a large bag of bio-degradable packaging peanuts and dumped it over Karen’s body, spreading it evenly with her hand.

At first, Karen found it rather fun, the feeling of being gradually encased in packaging peanuts, but as more peanuts were added and packed, as they covered her gas mask, her lenses and everything became darker and darker, it downed on her that she’s being encased.

After a last check on Karen’s status, Sandra closed the lid on the plastic-like box encasing Karen, having to use the provided ratchet straps to close it shut, snapping the closure hasps secured.

At the same time, Karen felt the last compression of the packaging peanuts around her, putting her in total immobility and total darkness.

She could hear nothing except her breathing and her pounding heart. Everything else was silent. Calm. Dark.

And it dawned on her that, for the next two weeks, that would be it. Total silence, total darkness, and total immobility.

Her anxiety grew. Panic was starting to win over her brain. What if something went wrong? What would happen? How would she get out of there?

As if something sensed her mood, she felt something move inside her body, in her crotch, accompanied by a very faint hum.

“Oh shit! They’re vibrating!”

Suddenly, her anxiety was gone, replaced by something else. Something a lot more pleasurable.

Sandra put the wood panel on top of the crate and screwed it shut, filled out the paperwork, and called the shipping company to take care of the crate.

Karen had no sense of time. She was in her own world. She suddenly felt being moved, but the ride was nonetheless comfortable. Well, she was well-packed, after all.

The crate was delivered a few hours later at the Hamburg port and loaded into a shipping container, itself loaded on a ship. They were apparently waiting for it. It was quickly hoisted up and put on the top of the pile at the bow of the ship. Less than an hour later, the ship was at sea and heading down south, toward Spain, a stop it had to make before heading to Canada.

Karen was feeling herself being slowly rocked back and forth as the ship rode the waves. She was half awake, half dozing off, sometimes aroused by the toys, and sometimes just let to rest. She had some panic attacks a few times, wanting to stretch from her cramped position but, as before, the toys seemed to sense her mood and quickly fired, bringing her to orgasm.

It was something special, being brought to orgasm without any possibility of moving. Just suffering it, although suffering it wouldn’t be the correct word, right?

The ship was sailing smoothly and, confined as she was, only enhanced the effect of a baby being put to sleep. She was comfortable, she was warm, and she could breathe easily. All relatively speaking, of course as she was tied up in a fetal position, waist crushed by a corset, plugged everywhere.

But those plugs, especially those between her legs, were gently humming, keeping her well happy and aroused. She tried to move, to squirm but the complete lack of movement made her even hornier.

At some point, she began to wonder if she would ever be able to go back to a normal life.

She had no track of time. She was dozing on and off, getting awakened by the vibration in her crotch or the food and water being delivered, or the automatic cleaning. Were those made at regular intervals? Could she count those intervals to figure out how long it has been? But she lacked one crucial piece of information: what was said interval?

Once more, she was awakened by some food being pumped into her stomach. It was weird to feel full without chewing and tasting anything. But something else was odd. She seemed to be moving a lot more than usual. The sea has gotten rougher. Then again, she never crossed the Atlantic, or any ocean for that matter, by ship before, so this might just be a normal passage.

On the bridge of the ship, the Captain and the rest of the officers were frantically looking at the weather radar.

“It’s heading straight for us.” said an officer, operating the radar. “It appeared out of nowhere. What the heck is that?”

“FULL STARBORD. PUT HER INTO THE WAVES!” yelled the captain to the man at the helm.

He operated the controls but a ship that big doesn’t turn on a dime.

“I’ve never seen anything like that!” said the weather radar operator. “It looks like… a tornado. A tornado in the middle of the ocean!”

The sky, bright and sunny less than an hour earlier, had turned as dark as night, and in this darkness, they could see lightning and what looked like a large water spout, heading toward them, or then heading toward it.

“Looks like it’s going to miss us.” said one of the officers, his eyes glued to the windows of the bridge.

They looked in amazement at this large water spout, sparkling with lightning, giving the whole storm some strange out-of-this-world vibes. The bottom of the water spout was dancing around, going right, left, forward, and backward, sending a wall of water against the ship. Suddenly, it moved toward the ship. It was heading straight for them, for the control bridge. They grabbed what they could but were thrown out of their seat as the water tornado hit the side of the ship, passing just behind the control bridge, ripping off the helicopter pad, sending debris flying. The ship made an abrupt turn and leaned heavily on one side as the spout reached the stern, letting go of the ship to continue on its merry way, leaving the ship rocking hard on the waves it created.

On the bridge, people were screaming. Some had been injured by being thrown against the console and other equipment. Alarms were sounding at every station.

“STATUS REPORT!” yelled the captain, himself holding to a console her his dear life.

Inside Karen’s confined space, things were different. Having no reference point, she felt like she was on some kind of roller coaster or some other crazy joy ride. Being on her side helped totally mess up with her orientation. It was scary because she didn’t know what was going on and at the same time, arousing as hell because the toys were firing at full blast as if triggered by the strong movements of the ship.

The orgasm came quick and powerful, enhanced by her strict confinement and the fact that she was still thrown around like crazy. Having an orgasm while tied up to a roller coaster! That was a first. Oh, she had a blast in tight jeans while riding the sling-shot but this was totally different!

She was blind and deaf. She couldn’t feel any wind or anything similar. She was laying on her side, not sitting or standing up, which screwed her orientation senses.

It was like an electro-shock rummaging throughout every cell of her body, creating pleasure.

Then suddenly. A jolt. A powerful jolt. As if she was now inside a rocket and had been launched, only to find herself weightless.

Wow! That did it! The orgasm that had already exploded, exploded again!

“CAPTAIN! WE LOST RUDDER CONTROL!” yelled the helmsman.

Within the flashes of lightning, they saw something.

“LAND!!!” yelled a man looking out the window.

At the same time, the ship came to an abrupt stop.

“Oh my gosh!!” said a deckhand.

They all looked in amazement as the topmost container, the last one put on, apparently not secured properly, kind of like in slow motion, tipped over and slowly slid out of the ship, making three-quarter of a turn, to land hand on the sandy beach the ship had just hit. Upon hitting the ground, it sank close to a full meter as it tore open on the seam, spewing its content on the beach.

“Fuck!” said the Captain.

“Fuck!” thought Karen as she felt as if she had been hit by something hard. Probably of the other cases in the container moving around. That was one heck of a storm!

But now, she was upside down, or rather standing on her head, and… nothing was moving. Her inner ear was still trying to figure out what the heck happened and where she was.

She panicked and tried to get free but… Damn! Being so tightly confined only aroused her. Then she realized that something was wrong. The vibration had stopped, which was alright, but she couldn’t feel her forced air coming in. She was able to breathe but she had to work hard for it. And with that length of hose leading to her mouth, CO2 would build up quickly without fresh air being forced in. An alarm sounded. Something close to her. At least, someone would come.

On the bridge of the ship, they looked, stunned, as much to that island that seemed to appear out of nowhere and that tornado, now dissipating as if nothing happened, the sea returning to a calm state, daylight returning.

The first one to talk, to break the sudden silence, was the Captain.

“What the fuck just happened here?” he said, turning around to face the helmsman. “Status?”

“Well… we’re aground.”

“Okay… Well… reverse. Full power.” Ordered the Captain. “We’ll deal with that container later.”

“I wouldn’t advise, sir. We lost rudder control. I have an alarm status that it’s not moving to the setpoint position.”

“Damn.”

“Captain, there’s some kind of alarm sound coming from the container that fell over.” said someone over the radio. And they could hear the alarm sound over his voice. That thing was loud.

“Alright.” said the captain with a sigh. “Send someone out.”

Two crewmen threw a rope ladder along the side of the ship and climbed down, getting hip-deep in the water, struggling to walk all the way to the beach, to the damaged container.

That thing had ripped open, spewing a good portion of its content on the sand. Mainly cardboard boxes that were spreading everywhere, and then this wooden crate, with its lid ripped off, and this fiberglass container, the cover skewed, half torn out, from where the alarm sound was coming.

Karen felt moved, tumbled, on her head, on her back, and finally on her side. Light was peeking through as the packaging nuts either fell off or were removed.

“What the f… Captain, you absolutely have to come down here. We… have a… situation.”

Karen was looking up in amazement at those two men, she didn’t know. They helped her out, unplugging the hoses linked to her crotch and gasmask, removing the carabiners linking her elbows, wrists, knees and ankles, holding her so she could gently sit on the edge of the damaged box.

She looked around. On her right, was the large ship with its bow evidently resting on the beach. And the beach of that small island, the blue sky as it had like magically cleared after the tornado, and blowing in the wind, the leaves of a palm tree.

“Well, Toto*,” she said to herself, “I don’t think we’re in Canada.” (* ‘The Wizzard of Oz’ pun, for those who wonder.)

“Geht es dir gut? Kannst du mir erklären, was das ist?” Asked the Captain in German.

Karen understood part of the question, but she could easily extrapolate: What the fuck are you? Or something like that…

She looked around in her crate. The tablet ought to be there. It was her only means of communication, after all. And yes it was. She made a “one moment” sign and reached for it. It was weird moving in her latex under the hot sun after all these… hours? Days?… confined in the crate. She powered it up and called the conversation app. There was already a whole explanation written in the databank, written in German. She called it and handed the tablet to the Captain.

It was a good thing that the explanation also stated that she had limited German and she could communicate in English (or French… why not?)

She could see the man’s face change as he read on.

“I… I don’t know what to say… or do. Do you have anyone to contact?”

“Not really,” wrote back Karen.”For me, the story was that I would be released once in Canada, that I would get the keys for my locks and I would get back to my normal life. This was totally unplanned and I’m unprepared for it. Any ideas? I’m open. Can you put me back in the crate?”

The Captain spoke in German to the crew but one had already crawled into the half-opened crate and was moving things around. He crawled back.

“I’m sorry, miss but some of the equipment seems to be damaged. We might be able to fix them but we don’t have those exact parts. Might end up too bulkier it can even work on batteries. I mean, we don’t have much of an electronic repair shop.”

“And we can’t move from here anyway.” added the Captain.

“What happened?” asked Karen.

“We don’t really know. A… tornado appeared out of nowhere and damaged our rudder, and we ended up here. I called for help but it could take a day or two since we’re not in any life-threatening situation. And depending on the damage to…”

“JA! KAPITÄN” yelled a man from all the way to the back of the ship, swimming close to the ship. He then gestured toward the back of the ship, explaining stuff in German.

After a few exchanges, he turned to Karen as the other seaman headed for the back of the ship.

“A fishing net got tangled in the propeller and the rudder. If we’re lucky, we’ll be fine in a couple of hours. I think it would be best for you to come on board. Err… were you alone in there? Is there any more… people like you there?”

Karen giggled under her gas mask.

“As far as I know, I was the only one. But who knows?” she said, raising her shoulders.

As the crew looked for more people “like her” in the container and tried to gather as much of the goods as possible, Karen was helped to get on board. Climbing the rope ladder was a challenge and lots of fun. For the first time, she was really stretching her limbs, working her body, to the limits of her restraints, her corset, collar and chastity belt. It made the toys and inserts move like never before. Her ballet heels actually made it easy. Damn, she was aroused and she had to pause mid-way up to let an orgasm cool down otherwise, when would have had one right then, right there!

Finally, panting, her lungs burning, well, her legs, her arms, everything was burning, she reached the main deck.

For the remainder of the day, the crew worked on the rudder and propeller to free them from the fishing net.

The man who had checked on the equipment, seemingly the electrician of the ship, Peter (Damn! What a coincidence! Who would have thought…), managed to regroup the devices and make them work, using some other pumps and equipment he had. It made the whole thing bulky and non-portable, but Karen could still plug herself and get fed and cleaned. She didn’t really need the breathing blower while out of the crate.

She was invited to their table as they had dinner. They seemingly enjoyed her presence, none of them seemed offended by her look. More intrigued. And she was a fresh sight amidst the cold steel of the hull of the ship.

Of course, they discussed mostly in German. But the news didn’t seem too good, judging by the Captain’s expression. He turned to her to explain.

“There’s another part of the fishing net that is stuck between the propeller and the rudder. But it’s too deep and the guy would need some scuba breathing thing to remove it because the time it takes them to reach it, they’re out of breath. Too bad your air supply is not compressed diver’s tanks.”

The electrician looked like a light bulb just lit over his head.

“You got it, Captain!” He said. “Of course. Her gas mask is sealed. Air can go in from the intake and can go out from the vents. Only. If we could make her air supply longer and provide her with a higher air pressure… I believe we and the mechanics can make some sort of constant air-supply compressor like those used in the early diving experiments. What do you say?” he said, looking at Karen.

“I don’t know. Why not? Could be fun.” wrote Karen.

Peter explained his plans in German to the other crew members and soon, they were drawing schematics on pieces of paper and they quickly scattered away from the dining room, leaving Karen alone with the Captain and the helmsman.

Pete quickly came back and grabbed Karen’s arms.

“Come. We sort of need you, you know…”

They spent most of the night working on the device, testing it in a large water container. Peter slowly inquired about Karen’s setup and whys and hows, relaying the information to the other of the group. They all became more and more friendly with her. By sunrise, they were ready to try it.

They added large steel nuts to her chastity belt, knees and ankle cuffs to help her stay underwater and she slowly walked toward the stern of the boat. She had a little panic when her head began to get underwater, looking for any leaks, but all went fine. The whole device was working. The water was rather clear and she could see the tangled net. Using the large knife they provided, she slowly and painstakingly cut the net, one part after the other.

But she had a price to pay. The price of arousal. The constant movements, her feet sinking into the sand, all of that were working her toys and with the density of the water, made her feel restrained, like in some sort of goo. Damn, she just loved it. At one point, she just had to stop and slowly move her hips up and down as the orgasm engulfed her. She let it go. She was tired of holding it back. The hell with it if they realized what she was doing. After all, she pretty much spilled her guts to them that last night. Mix in the sound of the water, the bubbly water as she breathed out, the feeling of the water while at the same time, not feeling it. All of it was just awesome!

After a little bit over an hour, she walked out of the water, making two thumbs up. The helmsman confirmed that all the alarms were gone and they were good to try to pull themselves out of the sand. They all congratulated her and climbed back on board. Except her.

She was just too tired and after the first four steps, couldn’t handle it. Peter had some discussion with the other guys and fifteen minutes later, a cable hoisted by a winch was lowered on the side of the ship. Heavy metal gear was sent down. Peter grabbed it and began to link Karen’s cuffs together with heavy shackles. He linked the main chain from her ankles up to over her head, in a setup similar to Erik and Hailey, however he linked her wrists over her head so that she could pull up with her wrists.

He gave the signal and she was slowly winched up. She was slowly balancing in the wind. Damn! Yes, she had another one, squirming in her bondage, suspended many meters from the ground.

When she reached the main deck she was happy as a clam… Sort of.

She felt the ship shake as the Captain immediately ordered the engines back on full reverse. Slowly, the ship slid off its sandy landing and was back into the sea.

“What can I do for you to thank you, Karen?” asked the Captain.

“Right now? Tie me up and let me sleep for a few days. I’m exhausted.” wrote Karen.

“Really?” asked the Captain. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. Absolutely not. I want to be tied up. But… is it possible to have a window view? I’ve never taken a cruise before.”

The Captain, the Mechanics and another deckhand exchanged in German, then the Mechanics looked at Karen with a large smile.

“Ja wir können.” He said, with a large devilish grin.

They took measurements of Karen’s body. Lots of them. Three hours later Karen was well secured, bolted down spread-eagled on the exterior wall of the Crew Deck of the accommodation tower, facing the bow of the ship. She had a first-row view of the sea!

Plates have been welded to the bulkhead. Steel bands, following the curve of her limbs, were bolted down over those plates. She had those holding straps at the ankles, below the knees, over the knees, upper thighs, waist, upper chest, neck, upper arms just below the elbows and at the wrist.

She could wiggle her feet, her head and her hands, but that was it.

Holes have been drilled through the bulkhead to allow the hoses of her survival equipment to be fed through. She could stay there for hours… days… weeks! Oh, how arousing!

She squirmed. This position was devilish. They added some support at her crotch, so as the ship ran the waves, she was moving up and down, right and left. Not a lot, but just enough for the support to move her chastity belt, to move the toys attached to them.

Heck! She was being screwed by the ocean! Enough to tease her, to hold her in constant arousal, but never enough for her to orgasm. That was so… wonderful!

She was watching the sea rolling in front of her, feeling the sun heating her black skin, gently squirming within her steel restraints.

After the first day, Peter came to see her, as he always did a few times a day, but this time, he looked at her with a smile. Then applied black tape to her lenses, putting her in total darkness.

That only increased her arousal. She now had no clue how smooth or bad the sea was. No clue how she would be tossed around.

She was there for about 3 days of relatively good weather. Then Peter and a mechanic began to release her. She mumbled. She wanted to know why. She liked it there.

“We’re approaching the port in Spain. I’m not sure the port authorities will welcome someone screwed to our bulkhead,” he said.

Karen was disappointed. She hit her wrist cuffs together, evidently asking to be kept tied up.

“Don’t worry,” said Peter with a devilish smile, “we have prepared something for you.”

She was led down to the engine room and directed to some sort of gearbox. There were already eye bolts, probably used to hook that device to winches or something. They had Karen sit on it.

She immediately knew how devilish that would be: it was vibrating a lot, and the vibrations would be transmitted to her chastity belt.

Chains were linked from her cuffs to the eyebolts. She was unable to get up. She was able to move and with the help of her arms, although secured on her back, she was able to lift her butt off the gearbox, but she couldn’t do anything else. She would be vibrated by a ship engine without any possibility of relief.

She wondered if this would be heaven or hell.

As they left her there, alone, she figured it was heaven. At least, she could move her legs and arms, even so slightly. And the vibrations were one hell of a pleasure ride.

It wasn’t long before she had an orgasm. Her first one. Quickly followed by the second one. All the arousal she had received while restrained on the bulkhead was getting released. That was wonderful. And now, the third one was building. She thought that that one could wait. Two orgasms, back to back took care of her backlog of tease and denial. She pushed with her arms to lift her butt off the gearbox. But it was strenuous. She tried to have some kind of hold from her feet to help her get off the gearbox but she had no foothold, no relief. She wondered how long she would be kept like that. I hope, not for the whole stay at the port. How long were they supposed to stay anyway?

Three were a lot of changes of speed, which only wreaked havoc on her toys, sending her into countless orgasms. She wanted to lay down, to sleep them off, but she couldn’t. She had to stay sitting down on this dreadful gearbox!

Finally, all stopped, much to her relief.

Peter came to see her.

“How are you?” he asked.

She answered with the middle finger.

“Yeah, I figured. Enjoyed it, I hope,” he said as he helped her stand up. “Okay, we’ll be in this port for about 50 hours. Now, because of our little incident, there will be an inspection performed by the port authorities.”

Karen raised her head. She understood.

“Yeah, right, so, to avoid any embarrassing situations, we have to hide you.”

She nodded. She understood.

“Now the problem… We don’t have a lot of secured places,” he said, leading her further into the engine room, showing a steel cavity that had been opened The mechanics who helped her get welded to the bulkhead were also there. Apparently, he had a weakness in tying women up.

“This is pretty cramped. But there’s a place for your… survival package and yourself, but, you would have to be bending down or something. Do you think you can find a position that you can sustain for a few days in there?

Karen looked at the opening. She kneeled and then put herself in more or less a hogtie position.

“Yes… I believe that would fit… You really want to be in this position for two days?”

Karen nodded yes and seeing a pad and paper nearby, scribbled on it. The men looked at her in disbelief.

“Really?”

Karen nodded a sharp yes.

“Okay, I think that could be arranged,” he said, looking at the mechanics. Both were smiling.

They came back twenty minutes later with a few rolls of stretch-wrap and lots of duct tape.

Following Karen’s desires, after her hoses were plugged, they first wrapped each limb separately with the plastic wrap, then put soft sponges between her knees and ankles before linking them with one wrap of duct tape. Another sponge was put between her elbows and she was elbow-tied with tape at the elbows and wrists. Then, another full stretch-wrap layer, followed by a full layer of duct tape, pinning her arms in her back, before she was put on her stomach on a table. Her legs were folded backward and her ankles taped to her thighs. They stretched duct tape from the front of her shoulders back to her folded legs, and to her forehead to her heels.

Then she was wrapped in plastic one more time before two full layers of duct tape were applied. Once done, she was a fully rigid package, unable to move at all.

From inside her tight cocoon, she was in heaven. She couldn’t hear, she couldn’t see, she couldn’t smell, she couldn’t feel wind or air or anything. She was completely sensory-deprived from the exterior world. Only her inner sensory was at full power.

She felt being moved, put into her small confinement, hidden inside a piece of machinery, feeling a smooth vibration through all those layers of latex, plastic and tape. She was in her own world.

Similar to what she felt inside the shipping box but ten-fold!

Suddenly, all the vibration stopped. It was dead silent. She wondered for a moment if her brain was playing tricks on her. She felt so… alone. Would floating in outer space, in the middle of nowhere, feel like that?

She tried to move, to wiggle her butt, to work her thighs but she was tied so tight that nothing moved. Oh well, it was her choice, her setup after all…

Damn! She really hated herself at that moment. But it was for the good of the crew, right? She HAD to be kept completely hidden.

She felt getting water, food, and being cleaned. The devices were working. That was reassuring.

She was floating between dream and reality. Feeling her confinement, hearing her heart pounding in her chest, her crotch asking for some stimulation. Suddenly, out of nowhere, that vibration again. Faint at first then growing louder. They were apparently departing and the engines were back online.

It meant that she should be released soon. But… did she want to?

She felt being moved. No, it was the ship moving. Up, down, sideways. The sea looked rough. She felt being moved again, but this time, someone was picking her up, putting her on the table. The ship was still tangling in all directions.

She was released. Being able to move actually hurt. she grunted as her legs were unfolded and her arms untied.

“Are you okay?” asked Peter as she helped her sit down on the edge of the table, rubbing her arms while the last layer of plastic wrap was taken off of her.

“That was really extreme. How was it?” he asked, evidently concerned.

Karen answered with a thumbs up. It was alright.

“I guess you want to move a little now, right?”

She nodded yes. She tried to stand up but the ship was moving hard. The sea was rough, and on her ballet boots, keeping her balance was close to impossible. She ended up on all four, making her way through the ship. That was actually fun.

It was dinner time and they were all sitting in the dining room. The sea was calmer although still wavy, but the size of the container ship helped smooth the ride.

Karen entered, standing on her legs but grabbing a hold wherever she could. Pete called her to come sit nearby.

“Hey, Listen, Karen, ” he said. “Do you cook?”

Karen was surprised by the question. She was a relatively good cook and she was proud of it She nodded yes but she tilted her head sideways as a “but why?” gesture.

“Oh, you see, Hans, here, is our cook on this trip. Frederich, our usual cook quit a few days before departure. Hans does his best but… He isn’t the best at it.

Karen looked at the plate of food. It was not exactly mouth-watering looking. Suddenly, she realized that all the men were looking at her. This wasn’t an out-of-the-blue question. They were all for it.

She shuddered. Why not? That would give her something to do, to pay for her special accommodations.

They showed her the kitchen. The guys had already installed eyebolts, rings, hooks, and everything to tie her up to work. Yeah. They really wanted her to cook.

And she did. And the guys appreciated it. When she was not needed to cook, she was fixed to the bulkhead, weather permitting, or somewhere on the ship, welded to a wall, suspended by springs, confined in a makeshift very small standing-up cell. She loved everything. She was even provided a small room, or course with D-rings and chains. She had to be restrained at all times. Her rules. No exceptions.

They finally entered Canada and reached the Port of Montreal.

Although the trip had been fun, she was eager to return to her normal life. All she needed to do was get through customs, get to her apartment, get the release keys and… that was it.

First thing first: getting the feeding tube out. Sandra had packed the keys for her release… in the shipping box. Oh shit!

They looked everywhere in and around the shipping box, lying at the bottom of the ship, but found nothing.

“It must have slipped out and is now buried in the sand of that island,” said Peter.

He accompanied her to the Canadian Customs. The border patrol officer was, understandably, cautious as Peter explained the situation. Still, without seeing her face, the color of her skin, fingerprints, or anything that could identify her, her passport was useless.

They were able to convince the customs officer to come with her to her apartment. There, she would get the release keys, take her hood off in front of him and prove her identity.

Accompanied by a police officer, they did just that. And it did not go as planned.

There was a delivery notice stuck to her door. The package was being held at the local post office. They went to it. The clerk was puzzled by that woman’s look, and especially for being escorted by a police officer and a customs officer. She scanned the delivery notice.

“Oh, I’m sorry. This was an express delivery. There was a pick-up window of 10 days. It’s been about 20 days now. The package has been sent back to the sender. I’m sorry, it’s no longer in our possession.”

Karen’s shoulders slumped down. She was escorted back to the ship. The crew had mixed feelings: Glad to see her again and concerned that she was still in her full outfit. Peter explained the situation and she walked to her cabin, Peter following her. When she sat on the narrow bed, Peter linked her collar to a chain by the wall, then her wrists together, and finally her ankles together.

“Rules are rules, right? You said so yourself.”

She shuddered. She didn’t care. What will she do now? She had to get in touch with Sandra, but it was currently the middle of the night in Germany. Peter had left and had closed the door behind him. He had work to do on the ship.

As she was dozing off on the narrow bed, the door opened. She didn’t even turn her head. Why bother? She was stuck.

“Karen? Are you alright?”

She slowly turned to face Peter. He was standing there with another crewman, holding a set of chains.

“Sorry, we have orders.” he simply said, linking her ankles with a short chain, as well as her knees, then linking her wrists and elbows together.

He then firmly grabbed her by the arm and led her toward the main stairs.

One by one, impaired by the short chain, she climbed the stairs. Where the hell was he leading her? To the navigation bridge? She was forbidden to enter that room. What the heck was going on?

She figured the Captain wanted to see her. She would probably be packed back into her crate and shipped back to Germany on the first available ship.

What would she do? What could she do? She felt like that guy from the Terminal movie, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Hell, without a valid I.D., she will probably be forbidden to re-enter Germany.

Nevertheless, the exercise, the movement of her toys, aroused her. Finally, panting she reached the bridge. She was let go. Not knowing where to go, she simply stared in front of her, at the Montreal cityscape.

“Finally. You took your time,” she heard a stern woman’s voice.

She quickly turned around and, in front of her, a tall woman, with black hair in a strict ponytail, wearing a full leather suit.

“Mistress?” thought Karen. “What?… How?… Where?… When?…”

“Apparently, you’ve been having some problems?” she said, giggling.

Karen wasn’t finding it funny. She showed her bound wrists, she shook her head to show the gas mask. She stomped her feet on the ground.

“Ja, Ja, Relax, Karen,” said Mistress as she took a small key from her purse, and then unlocked Karen’s feeding tube. “This will not be fun. Relax and try to think of something else,” she said as she pulled the tube out.

Karen almost puked, feeling the tube being dragged out of her throat.

“Ah shit!” said Karen in a graveled voice. “Damn. About fucking time! You have to come with me, I can still get back to Canada with your explanation.”

“Yes, Karen, you can. But there are other options.”

“Other options? And why are you here? And… Wait a minute. You speak English?” she asked, stunned.

“Yes, I do. You need it when you’re in my business,” said Mistress.

“But… Sandra?”

“Sandra doesn’t know and should never know. That’s our little secret,” she said with a wink. “Now, I want to thank you for saving the ship on that island. You saved me a lot of money.”

“Wait. Was that storm something of your doing too?” asked Sandra.

“Me? Karen, I can do a lot of things but I do not control the weather. The sudden tornado in the middle of the ocean, the container tipping overboard, none of that was planned.

“I… I don’t understand. Why and how are you here? And… what is this thing that I saved you a lot of money?”

“Because, I’m the owner of this ship, Karen. Haven’t you seen the ship’s name? It’s not called ‘Mistress Of The Seas’ for nothing,” she said with a wink.

“You… But…” said Karen, totally confused.

“That’s how I was able to provide a shipping crate with a shipping box ready for you on such short notice. It had been prepared while you were visiting Germany.

“But the keys… They were sent back to you?”

“Yes, and I have them right here. I arrived by plane two hours before the ship docked to the port. I can free you right now and within a few hours, after a nice shower and a change of clothes, you could walk out of here and back into your regular life.”

Regular life. Spending hours commuting to spend more hours behind a desk, coding. Then commute home, eat, sleep, then rinse and repeat. For the rest of her life.

“Or….” said Mistress, as if she had read Karen’s thoughts.

“Or?” inquired Karen.

“You could become a permanent part of this crew as their cook and… entertainment.”

“Hum… okay. What’s the catch?”

“The catch? There’s no catch, Karen. Sealed, plugged, gagged and restrained at all times. The crew can invent new setups on their own or follow your desires, Karen. Every mishap is to be met with consequences. You’re to be hidden when at port, except when I’m on board.”

“Uh… and…” said Karen to which her mind was spinning at 500km//h, “am I… gagged? intubated? Or what?”

“That is actually your choice, Karen. We can put into your contract that you can choose at intervals, say every three months. You get to choose if you go with the gag and plugs or with the tubes, or for any other setups, like gasmask or not. We write a contract, renewable every year or…every ten years. Your choice. Your commitment.”

Mistress handed Karen her tablet and put a set of keys on the small shelf by the bed.

“Here. The basic contract is there. NOTHING in these clauses is to be changed. You can add the options we discussed. The keys to free yourself are there. I’ll be back in an hour. If you’re still here in an hour, that contract better be signed.” said Mistress before leaving.

Karen stared at the contract. She began to read it and the more she read the more aroused she became, gently squirming on her bed: fully enclosed in rubber, restrained, gagged, high heels, corsets, toys, chastity belts, all of them were already listed and mandatory. She reached the section where she could put on the options she wanted, the special setups, the scenes, her ideas. She reached the bottom and without hesitating, she signed it using the special pen provided. The only field left to fill was the time length of the contract. How about one year? That would give her time to re-evaluate her choices. Sounds good.

She leaned back and stroked her crotch. That felt good.

She was asleep when Mistress returned, startling-waking her up.

“Ah, still here. I hope you just didn’t fall asleep and that this contract is signed… It is, good.” said Mistress. “Uh… you forgot to fill in the duration,” said Mistress, turning the tablet to Karen.

Karen took the pen and scribbled the duration. Mistress looked at it and smiled.

“Sixty months it is.”

(c) monsterp63

December 2, 2023

This CONCLUDES this series.