Karen – Escape Artist by MonsterP63

Karen – Escape Artist by MonsterP63

Archived Version

Author’s note:

This story is a long story, longer than I had anticipated – 100+ pages when I expected 30-ish pages, that’s why “part 1” is so long – and a long time in the making.

For quite a while I wanted to write a story where Karen would discover, very slowly, that she likes bondage and things would escalate as Lynda would also discover that she has a dominant side, but I just couldn’t make it work that way because I could only figure it if one of them were either already a kinkster or a dominant in the first place to fuel the desire for BDSM. I wrote some stories similar to that with exactly that setup (like Roommates).

Then I had this idea, and well… there it is.

This is a very personal journey to discovery for Karen and Lynda.

Again, take note: this story is OVER 100 PAGES LONG! Be prepared!

This is probably the last story on mp63.ca before it shuts down. Thank you very much for all your comments on that shutdown post. I honestly, wasn’t expecting that many, and especially, not that “moving”. – Pierre.

Part I

Lynda entered the flat they shared and looked around for her roommate. Karen was working in an office building but Lynda had decided to go back to school to earn another degree in law.

“Karen? Are you here?”

“Yeah,” said a muffled voice, “I’m in my room,” said the voice behind the closed door.

“Ah good. I want to show you…” began to say Lynda.

“NO, NO! Don’t come it!” she heard from the other side of the door.

“Ah, come on, I saw you naked before,” said Lynda as she opened the door and then froze in place.

Karen was on the floor, ankles tied up with rope, her wrists tied in her back in police handcuffs.

“Oh my god! What the fuck happened here? You got abused or something?” asked Lynda, crouching down. “Where are the keys? Let me untie you.”

“No. Don’t touch me. Leave me alone please,” said a pleading and red-faced Karen.

“Uh? What… Oh. I get it now. You’re into kinky stuff. Yes, of course, I had all the signs in front of me. Hum… okay. Later, I guess,” she said, walking back and closing the door.

About twenty minutes later, Karen walked out of her room and quietly took a bottle of orange juice from the fridge before sitting down in front of the TV.

“So… had fun?” risked Lynda.

“It’s not that. I… that might sound silly but, since I saw that magic show the other day, I want to try to become an… escape artist.”

“An escape artist?”

“Yes, you know, those people who can get out of straight jackets, handcuffs, like Houdini, you know, upside-down into a tank of water, all chained and padlocked and stuff.”

“But… you know that’s illusions, right? They used tricked padlocks, hidden keys, false knots, and stuff,” said Lynda.

“Yeah, in some stunts but in others, they really use their flexibility to escape. Anyway, I want to try so… “

“Yeah, whatever. It’s your… ahem… fun. But just to be safe, wouldn’t it be preferable that you do it with someone watching over? The next time, just wait for me to be here, so if there’s a problem, I could be there to… save you,” she said with a broad smile.

“I… I guess you’re right. I would feel more confident to try heavier stuff,” said Karen, smiling but still shy about it.

It went on for a few weeks. One day, Lynda was in her room, studying when Karen told her she was about to make another attempt. Half an hour later, Karen walked out of the room and leaned against Lynda’s room door.

“I think it’s becoming too easy.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lynda, without taking her eyes away from her books.

“I am tying myself up. I know what I did, where the knot is, what knot I used, where I put the keys, and stuff.”

“Yeah, I mean… this is what happened with self-bondage,” said Lynda.

“It’s NOT self-bondage!” exclaimed Karen. “I am an escape artist… and… would you… you know… tie me up?”

Lynda stopped and turned to face Karen with a stunned expression on her face.

“You want me to tie you up?”

“Yeah, I mean, I want the challenge, so… would you?”

“Uh… yes, I think I can,” said Lynda.

“Great!” said Karen.

Lynda went back to her books but Karen stayed at the door.

“What… now?” asked Lynda.

Karen only smiled.

With a sigh, Lynda got up and followed Karen to her room. There was some rope on the floor and the handcuffs. Karen sat, waiting.

“Okay, how do you want to be tied up?”

“Surprise me,” said Karen with a broad smile.

Lynda tied her ankles tightly with rope, hiding the knot as much as she could, then put the handcuffs on and put the keys on the corner of the dresser, meaning Karen would have to get up and hop there to get them.

“Is that okay?”

“That’s great,” said Karen, already squirming.

Lynda went back to her books. She heard Karen stomping, bumping, swearing but it took less than fifteen minutes and she was back at her door.

“Again…” said Karen with a smile.

Lynda went back to Karen’s room.

“Do you have more rope or something?”

“No, that’s all I have.”

“Not a lot of choices,” she said, thinking.

She had Karen roll on her stomach and tied her ankles crossed, meaning that she wouldn’t be able to get up and she put the keys back on the dresser.

After a lot of noise, Karen was by her door again.

“How the fuck?” asked a stunned Lynda.

“It’s even easier with my legs tied like that,” said Karen, crouching down and getting back up by opening her knees and keeping her ankles together.

“I’ll be damn. Are you a contortionist or something?”

“No, I’m an escape artist,” said Karen, smiling, happy to have succeeded.

“You need more rope. I can’t do anything more than what I did,” said Lynda.

“I’ll have it!” said Karen, smiling, humming a happy sound while going back to her room.

The next morning, Lynda was woken up by some heavy stomping. Sleepy and grouchy, she got up and looked out of her room, only to find Karen, with her ankles tied up and her hands in her back, hopping to the kitchen counter to get the handcuff keys.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Practicing!” happily said Karen.

Lynda rolled her eyes and went back to bed.

At the end of the day, as soon as Lynda entered the flat, Karen shoved a pack of heavy rope in her face.

“I’m ready!” said Karen, jumping on place like a kid at Christmas.

A few minutes later, Lynda walked out of the room, smiling. She would have the evening to herself. She was sure Karen would not get out of it. She had tied her wrists with lots of tight rope. No way she would get out of it.

Fifteen minutes later, as she was munching on some left-over ships, Karen jumped next to her.

“Ta! Da!!” she exclaimed, showing that she was free.

“You had a knife nearby, didn’t you? You planned this in advance.”

“What? No. I escaped. I’m quite flexible,” said Karen, squeezing her right hand with her left hand, making it very small. “See?”

“Okay… If I tie you up one more time, would leave me alone for the rest of the evening?”

“Only if I cannot untie myself,” said Karen, smiling with confidence.

Lynda sighed and followed Karen to her room. There she could confirm that the ropes were intact. In fact, except for the ankle rope, the coil of the wrist rope still had its shape.

“I’ll be damn!” said Lynda.

Karen took place, standing straight, her legs together and her hands in her back.

Lynda tied her ankles very tightly then decided to add a rope to the knees.

“Ooo. I like that!” said Karen, which only manage to piss off Lynda, as she tied the wrist rope, very tightly, then she added another one at her elbows, bringing them closer together.

“Uh… This is new. I don’t know if…” began to mumble Karen, already squirming as Lynda was tying the last of FIVE knots.

But there was something odd. Lynda felt something odd. While she was tying Karen, pulling the rope tighter than she would usually do to ‘protect’ Karen from injuries, there was something she felt, something she never felt before. Was it… pleasure? Pleasure at wrapping someone in rope? What an odd feeling.

She left Karen to her struggles, having one last look at her before closing the door. Again, that odd feeling. Was she liking it? Was she turning into one of those serial killers thing?

She brushed it off and went back to her room, on her computer to study. But the sight of Karen tightly bound and squirming was still playing in her mind, and of course, hearing the muffled sounds of her struggling was… interesting?

And what if Karen gets free? How should she tie her up?

Curiosity had the best of her and she opened her web browser and searched for ideas of tying someone with rope.

She knew there were people with that kink but she was never interested in it so, never really searched for it. But now?

She heard jumping noises coming from Karen’s room. She smiled, imagining how she would struggle. She went back to her web search.

Oh man! Seeing all those images of women tied up, some must have one kilometer of rope on them, she found herself salivating, almost drooling.

“What the fuck?” she mumbled as she swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

She quickly closed the browser and concentrated back on her studies. She heard a loud thud.

“Are you alright over there?” she yelled through the shared wall, thinking that, maybe, Karen had fallen down and needed help.

“No, I’m good!” answered Karen.

“There’s no shame in giving up, you know?” she said, smiling.

“I’m not there yet!” she heard firmly.

She went back to her studies. Everything was silent, except for an occasional moan. Then there was this sound. It was a different moan. A very distinctive sound. Someone a woman would make. Something that sounded like…

Lynda entered the flat they shared and looked around for her roommate. Karen was working in an office building but Lynda had decided to go back to school to earn another degree in law.

“Karen? Are you here?”

“Yeah,” said a muffled voice, “I’m in my room,” said the voice behind the closed door.

“Ah good. I want to show you…” began to say Lynda.

“NO, NO! Don’t come it!” she heard from the other side of the door.

“Ah, come on, I saw you naked before,” said Lynda as she opened the door and then froze in place.

Karen was on the floor, ankles tied up with rope, her wrists tied in her back in police handcuffs.

“Oh my god! What the fuck happened here? You got abused or something?” asked Lynda, crouching down. “Where are the keys? Let me untie you.”

“No. Don’t touch me. Leave me alone please,” said a pleading and red-faced Karen.

“Uh? What… Oh. I get it now. You’re into kinky stuff. Yes, of course, I had all the signs in front of me. Hum… okay. Later, I guess,” she said, walking back and closing the door.

About twenty minutes later, Karen walked out of her room and quietly took a bottle of orange juice from the fridge before sitting down in front of the TV.

“So… had fun?” risked Lynda.

“It’s not that. I… that might sound silly but, since I saw that magic show the other day, I want to try to become an… escape artist.”

“An escape artist?”

“Yes, you know, those people who can get out of straight jackets, handcuffs, like Houdini, you know, upside-down into a tank of water, all chained and padlocked and stuff.”

“But… you know that’s illusions, right? They used tricked padlocks, hidden keys, false knots, and stuff,” said Lynda.

“Yeah, in some stunts but in others, they really use their flexibility to escape. Anyway, I want to try so… “

“Yeah, whatever. It’s your… ahem… fun. But just to be safe, wouldn’t it be preferable that you do it with someone watching over? The next time, just wait for me to be here, so if there’s a problem, I could be there to… save you,” she said with a broad smile.

“I… I guess you’re right. I would feel more confident to try heavier stuff,” said Karen, smiling but still shy about it.

It went on for a few weeks. One day, Lynda was in her room, studying when Karen told her she was about to make another attempt. Half an hour later, Karen walked out of the room and leaned against Lynda’s room door.

“I think it’s becoming too easy.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lynda, without taking her eyes away from her books.

“I am tying myself up. I know what I did, where the knot is, what knot I used, where I put the keys, and stuff.”

“Yeah, I mean… this is what happened with self-bondage,” said Lynda.

“It’s NOT self-bondage!” exclaimed Karen. “I am an escape artist… and… would you… you know… tie me up?”

Lynda stopped and turned to face Karen with a stunned expression on her face.

“You want me to tie you up?”

“Yeah, I mean, I want the challenge, so… would you?”

“Uh… yes, I think I can,” said Lynda.

“Great!” said Karen.

Lynda went back to her books but Karen stayed at the door.

“What… now?” asked Lynda.

Karen only smiled.

With a sigh, Lynda got up and followed Karen to her room. There was some rope on the floor and the handcuffs. Karen sat, waiting.

“Okay, how do you want to be tied up?”

“Surprise me,” said Karen with a broad smile.

Lynda tied her ankles tightly with rope, hiding the knot as much as she could, then put the handcuffs on and put the keys on the corner of the dresser, meaning Karen would have to get up and hop there to get them.

“Is that okay?”

“That’s great,” said Karen, already squirming.

Lynda went back to her books. She heard Karen stomping, bumping, swearing but it took less than fifteen minutes and she was back at her door.

“Again…” said Karen with a smile.

Lynda went back to Karen’s room.

“Do you have more rope or something?”

“No, that’s all I have.”

“Not a lot of choices,” she said, thinking.

She had Karen roll on her stomach and tied her ankles crossed, meaning that she wouldn’t be able to get up and she put the keys back on the dresser.

After a lot of noise, Karen was by her door again.

“How the fuck?” asked a stunned Lynda.

“It’s even easier with my legs tied like that,” said Karen, crouching down and getting back up by opening her knees and keeping her ankles together.

“I’ll be damn. Are you a contortionist or something?”

“No, I’m an escape artist,” said Karen, smiling, happy to have succeeded.

“You need more rope. I can’t do anything more than what I did,” said Lynda.

“I’ll have it!” said Karen, smiling, humming a happy sound while going back to her room.

The next morning, Lynda was woken up by some heavy stomping. Sleepy and grouchy, she got up and looked out of her room, only to find Karen, with her ankles tied up and her hands in her back, hopping to the kitchen counter to get the handcuff keys.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Practicing!” happily said Karen.

Lynda rolled her eyes and went back to bed.

At the end of the day, as soon as Lynda entered the flat, Karen shoved a pack of heavy rope in her face.

“I’m ready!” said Karen, jumping on place like a kid at Christmas.

A few minutes later, Lynda walked out of the room, smiling. She would have the evening to herself. She was sure Karen would not get out of it. She had tied her wrists with lots of tight rope. No way she would get out of it.

Fifteen minutes later, as she was munching on some left-over ships, Karen jumped next to her.

“Ta! Da!!” she exclaimed, showing that she was free.

“You had a knife nearby, didn’t you? You planned this in advance.”

“What? No. I escaped. I’m quite flexible,” said Karen, squeezing her right hand with her left hand, making it very small. “See?”

“Okay… If I tie you up one more time, would leave me alone for the rest of the evening?”

“Only if I cannot untie myself,” said Karen, smiling with confidence.

Lynda sighed and followed Karen to her room. There she could confirm that the ropes were intact. In fact, except for the ankle rope, the coil of the wrist rope still had its shape.

“I’ll be damn!” said Lynda.

Karen took place, standing straight, her legs together and her hands in her back.

Lynda tied her ankles very tightly then decided to add a rope to the knees.

“Ooo. I like that!” said Karen, which only manage to piss off Lynda, as she tied the wrist rope, very tightly, then she added another one at her elbows, bringing them closer together.

“Uh… This is new. I don’t know if…” began to mumble Karen, already squirming as Lynda was tying the last of FIVE knots.

But there was something odd. Lynda felt something odd. While she was tying Karen, pulling the rope tighter than she would usually do to ‘protect’ Karen from injuries, there was something she felt, something she never felt before. Was it… pleasure? Pleasure at wrapping someone in rope? What an odd feeling.

She left Karen to her struggles, having one last look at her before closing the door. Again, that odd feeling. Was she liking it? Was she turning into one of those serial killers thing?

She brushed it off and went back to her room, on her computer to study. But the sight of Karen tightly bound and squirming was still playing in her mind, and of course, hearing the muffled sounds of her struggling was… interesting?

And what if Karen gets free? How should she tie her up?

Curiosity had the best of her and she opened her web browser and searched for ideas of tying someone with rope.

She knew there were people with that kink but she was never interested in it so, never really searched for it. But now?

She heard jumping noises coming from Karen’s room. She smiled, imagining how she would struggle. She went back to her web search.

Oh man! Seeing all those images of women tied up, some must have one kilometer of rope on them, she found herself salivating, almost drooling.

“What the fuck?” she mumbled as she swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

She quickly closed the browser and concentrated back on her studies. She heard a loud thud.

“Are you alright over there?” she yelled through the shared wall, thinking that, maybe, Karen had fallen down and needed help.

“No, I’m good!” answered Karen.

“There’s no shame in giving up, you know?” she said, smiling.

“I’m not there yet!” she heard firmly.

She went back to her studies. Everything was silent, except for an occasional moan. Then there was this sound. It was a different moan. A very distinctive sound. Someone a woman would make. Something that sounded like…

Lynda entered the flat they shared and looked around for her roommate. Karen was working in an office building but Lynda had decided to go back to school to earn another degree in law.

“Karen? Are you here?”

“Yeah,” said a muffled voice, “I’m in my room,” said the voice behind the closed door.

“Ah good. I want to show you…” began to say Lynda.

“NO, NO! Don’t come it!” she heard from the other side of the door.

“Ah, come on, I saw you naked before,” said Lynda as she opened the door and then froze in place.

Karen was on the floor, ankles tied up with rope, her wrists tied in her back in police handcuffs.

“Oh my god! What the fuck happened here? You got abused or something?” asked Lynda, crouching down. “Where are the keys? Let me untie you.”

“No. Don’t touch me. Leave me alone please,” said a pleading and red-faced Karen.

“Uh? What… Oh. I get it now. You’re into kinky stuff. Yes, of course, I had all the signs in front of me. Hum… okay. Later, I guess,” she said, walking back and closing the door.

About twenty minutes later, Karen walked out of her room and quietly took a bottle of orange juice from the fridge before sitting down in front of the TV.

“So… had fun?” risked Lynda.

“It’s not that. I… that might sound silly but, since I saw that magic show the other day, I want to try to become an… escape artist.”

“An escape artist?”

“Yes, you know, those people who can get out of straight jackets, handcuffs, like Houdini, you know, upside-down into a tank of water, all chained and padlocked and stuff.”

“But… you know that’s illusions, right? They used tricked padlocks, hidden keys, false knots, and stuff,” said Lynda.

“Yeah, in some stunts but in others, they really use their flexibility to escape. Anyway, I want to try so… “

“Yeah, whatever. It’s your… ahem… fun. But just to be safe, wouldn’t it be preferable that you do it with someone watching over? The next time, just wait for me to be here, so if there’s a problem, I could be there to… save you,” she said with a broad smile.

“I… I guess you’re right. I would feel more confident to try heavier stuff,” said Karen, smiling but still shy about it.

It went on for a few weeks. One day, Lynda was in her room, studying when Karen told her she was about to make another attempt. Half an hour later, Karen walked out of the room and leaned against Lynda’s room door.

“I think it’s becoming too easy.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lynda, without taking her eyes away from her books.

“I am tying myself up. I know what I did, where the knot is, what knot I used, where I put the keys, and stuff.”

“Yeah, I mean… this is what happened with self-bondage,” said Lynda.

“It’s NOT self-bondage!” exclaimed Karen. “I am an escape artist… and… would you… you know… tie me up?”

Lynda stopped and turned to face Karen with a stunned expression on her face.

“You want me to tie you up?”

“Yeah, I mean, I want the challenge, so… would you?”

“Uh… yes, I think I can,” said Lynda.

“Great!” said Karen.

Lynda went back to her books but Karen stayed at the door.

“What… now?” asked Lynda.

Karen only smiled.

With a sigh, Lynda got up and followed Karen to her room. There was some rope on the floor and the handcuffs. Karen sat, waiting.

“Okay, how do you want to be tied up?”

“Surprise me,” said Karen with a broad smile.

Lynda tied her ankles tightly with rope, hiding the knot as much as she could, then put the handcuffs on and put the keys on the corner of the dresser, meaning Karen would have to get up and hop there to get them.

“Is that okay?”

“That’s great,” said Karen, already squirming.

Lynda went back to her books. She heard Karen stomping, bumping, swearing but it took less than fifteen minutes and she was back at her door.

“Again…” said Karen with a smile.

Lynda went back to Karen’s room.

“Do you have more rope or something?”

“No, that’s all I have.”

“Not a lot of choices,” she said, thinking.

She had Karen roll on her stomach and tied her ankles crossed, meaning that she wouldn’t be able to get up and she put the keys back on the dresser.

After a lot of noise, Karen was by her door again.

“How the fuck?” asked a stunned Lynda.

“It’s even easier with my legs tied like that,” said Karen, crouching down and getting back up by opening her knees and keeping her ankles together.

“I’ll be damn. Are you a contortionist or something?”

“No, I’m an escape artist,” said Karen, smiling, happy to have succeeded.

“You need more rope. I can’t do anything more than what I did,” said Lynda.

“I’ll have it!” said Karen, smiling, humming a happy sound while going back to her room.

The next morning, Lynda was woken up by some heavy stomping. Sleepy and grouchy, she got up and looked out of her room, only to find Karen, with her ankles tied up and her hands in her back, hopping to the kitchen counter to get the handcuff keys.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Practicing!” happily said Karen.

Lynda rolled her eyes and went back to bed.

At the end of the day, as soon as Lynda entered the flat, Karen shoved a pack of heavy rope in her face.

“I’m ready!” said Karen, jumping on place like a kid at Christmas.

A few minutes later, Lynda walked out of the room, smiling. She would have the evening to herself. She was sure Karen would not get out of it. She had tied her wrists with lots of tight rope. No way she would get out of it.

Fifteen minutes later, as she was munching on some left-over ships, Karen jumped next to her.

“Ta! Da!!” she exclaimed, showing that she was free.

“You had a knife nearby, didn’t you? You planned this in advance.”

“What? No. I escaped. I’m quite flexible,” said Karen, squeezing her right hand with her left hand, making it very small. “See?”

“Okay… If I tie you up one more time, would leave me alone for the rest of the evening?”

“Only if I cannot untie myself,” said Karen, smiling with confidence.

Lynda sighed and followed Karen to her room. There she could confirm that the ropes were intact. In fact, except for the ankle rope, the coil of the wrist rope still had its shape.

“I’ll be damn!” said Lynda.

Karen took place, standing straight, her legs together and her hands in her back.

Lynda tied her ankles very tightly then decided to add a rope to the knees.

“Ooo. I like that!” said Karen, which only manage to piss off Lynda, as she tied the wrist rope, very tightly, then she added another one at her elbows, bringing them closer together.

“Uh… This is new. I don’t know if…” began to mumble Karen, already squirming as Lynda was tying the last of FIVE knots.

But there was something odd. Lynda felt something odd. While she was tying Karen, pulling the rope tighter than she would usually do to ‘protect’ Karen from injuries, there was something she felt, something she never felt before. Was it… pleasure? Pleasure at wrapping someone in rope? What an odd feeling.

She left Karen to her struggles, having one last look at her before closing the door. Again, that odd feeling. Was she liking it? Was she turning into one of those serial killers thing?

She brushed it off and went back to her room, on her computer to study. But the sight of Karen tightly bound and squirming was still playing in her mind, and of course, hearing the muffled sounds of her struggling was… interesting?

And what if Karen gets free? How should she tie her up?

Curiosity had the best of her and she opened her web browser and searched for ideas of tying someone with rope.

She knew there were people with that kink but she was never interested in it so, never really searched for it. But now?

She heard jumping noises coming from Karen’s room. She smiled, imagining how she would struggle. She went back to her web search.

Oh man! Seeing all those images of women tied up, some must have one kilometer of rope on them, she found herself salivating, almost drooling.

“What the fuck?” she mumbled as she swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

She quickly closed the browser and concentrated back on her studies. She heard a loud thud.

“Are you alright over there?” she yelled through the shared wall, thinking that, maybe, Karen had fallen down and needed help.

“No, I’m good!” answered Karen.

“There’s no shame in giving up, you know?” she said, smiling.

“I’m not there yet!” she heard firmly.

She went back to her studies. Everything was silent, except for an occasional moan. Then there was this sound. It was a different moan. A very distinctive sound. Someone a woman would make. Something that sounded like…

** Only a real SF fan will appreciate that choice 😉

She had to concentrate, to work the ropes, to make herself fluid, to change her body into liquid to go through those ropes.

But they were tight. Very tight. And the way they were coiled was different from the usually simple coils made in every exercise video she saw. These were real bondage ties, not magic show ones.

Nevertheless, she tried her best, panting, squirming, but she quickly realized that the very hogtie position she was in was actually what was locking her in: the pull from her ankles to the wrist ropes closed it. It was keeping it tightly coiled. She had to find a way to ease the pull on her wrists, to loosen the noose tightening it up. Maybe rolling on her side would help.

So she began to rock her body from side to side, to get some momentum.

Oh. She almost did it. As she rolled back on her stomach to get more momentum, the pleasure grew. She screamed as she gave it one last go and she finally ended up on her left side, her ankles just next to Lynda’s feet.

But that didn’t help. At all! Now that there was no support for her legs to keep them close to her wrists, they were pulling harder on the linking rope, closing the gap.

Shit. She had to roll back on her stomach!

That was an exercise in herself and she was, by then, already sweating heavily.

Again, she moaned as she rocked her body to get momentum.

“Damn you’re noisy!” said Lynda, cranking up the TV volume.

“Sorry,” mumbled Karen, trying to tone her struggles noises down, but she let out another loud moan as she rolled back on her stomach.

Maybe if she could reach the ankle rope with her hand, she could pull it toward her and then loosen the noose to help free her wrists. Once her wrists were free from the rope, the elbow rope would be just a matter of squirming and rubbing on the floor, which would be easy. That was a lot of ‘would’. She just had to get the first step done, and it was apparently easier said than done: the knee ropes were restricting her muscles from working, blocking her legs from bending further!

Her biggest problem wasn’t getting free but the warm feeling building up at her crotch. That wasn’t helping her concentration. Sure she was trying to reach the ankle rope but her mind wanted also to reach something else.

Lynda was trying to watch her favorite SF movie, but her eyes kept coming back to Karen, to her squirming. She took pleasure in seeing her roommate struggle. Her moans were disturbing but not in the really disturbing sense. She was finding those moans… pleasurable to hear.

The lights were reflecting from Karen’s faux leather leggings. They were not as shiny as some other fabric but they were giving out nice reflecting patterns where she could see her muscles straining, and she could also see her buns contracting with her efforts.

She liked how the ropes seemed to dig into her shiny spandex-coated arms, and she loved how tight the leg ropes were as the flesh was bulging out on each side, creating bumps on the vinyl leggings. For some reason, she loved the sight.

There was a reason why she chose that particular movie: she knew it almost by heart, having watched it again and again, so she could ‘listen’ to it while watching Karen, without missing an important moment.

However, her pleasure turned out to be more than visual or auditory. Without her even noticing, her hand had reached down at her crotch, gently rubbing her jeans with the tip of her fingernail. It was like receiving a shock when she realized what she was doing, almost dropping her can of soda on the floor.

Karen saw the sudden jerky move from the side of her eyes.

“Something wrong?” she asked, still slowly working her wrists.

“No, no,” harshly answered Lynda, “It… it’s getting late, I’m tired and… I… dozed off. It’s been almost an hour now. Want me to free you before I go to bed?”

Karen was stuck. If she accepted her help, she was acknowledging that she had failed. If she wasn’t, as far as she could tell, she would be stuck in this for the night and she would have to accept her help in the morning. And spending the night hogtied wasn’t on her wishlist.

“I’ll… err… Yes, untie me, please,” finally said Karen on the tips of her lips, admitting defeat but she wasn’t really ready to fully admit it. “BUT…” she quickly added, “just remove the hogtie rope. I’m sure this is what is preventing me from succeeding.”

“You want to spend the night tied up on the floor?” asked a stunned Lynda.

“I won’t spend the night on the floor, silly. I’ll be out of it in less than 20 minutes. It’s just that the hogtie rope is constantly pulling on my wrists. That’s what is blocking me. No escape artist is getting tied up in a hogtie. That’s for… kinky stuff,” she added, realizing the word she had used.

“Uh… okay,” said Lynda, removing the undesired rope.

Karen moaned in relief as she slowly let her legs down.

“Yes, much better,” she said, squirming already, trying to get free.

“So… all good?” asked Lynda, looking at the shiny body squirming under the lights.

“Yeah, I’m good. Good night,” said Karen.

Lynda walked away with mixed feelings. She really wanted to watch her. Not get free, but struggling as she tried because, she had all the confidence in her rope work. Karen will be there in the morning.

Which left Karen alone, struggling. She began to relax, to let her hands become a fluid, for her fingers, her thumb to slowly move, for the ligaments to stretch, for the muscles to relax. Yes, that was it. She was finding her inner peace, the state where every escape artist turns into jelly and wiggles their way out of a straightjacket or, in this came tight ropes.

But it didn’t work. She rolled to change position, on her side, on her back, back on her stomach.

The lights in the living room automatically turned off, meaning that it was 23:00. Shit! She should have been in bed by now. One more roll, one more turn, one more leg stretching and one more roll and… what… Oh great! now there was a decorative cushion under her crotch, lifting her butt in the air!

But wait. That was actually… comfortable! And being comfortable means to relax. She tried once again, but the more she struggled the more she got… aroused? By a cushion.

She went back to trying to get free but the cushion had the best, or was it the worst, effect on her. Soon, she wasn’t trying to get free but to get an orgasm, stroking the cushion, and as weird as it may sound, her very tight bondage was driving her nuts! Every pull on her legs, every struggle with her arms, sending her vibes that she was restrained, only increased the pleasure at her crotch.

She moaned, suddenly snapping out of it and trying to keep it silent, but she exploded, her body shaking by strong convulsions sent by the unusual orgasm. She let out a few grunts of pleasure as she continued to screw the cushion, feeling her tight leggings squeeze her legs, her butt, her crotch, and at the same time, her tight leotard pulling hard on her crotch. Her breasts being squished with every stroke just enhanced the feeling. Damn, what the fuck was going on in her mind? In her crotch?

‘Fuck the reason. Just enjoy it!’ yelled her brain back at her.

As the orgasm subsided, she slowly stopped her rocking, resting her head on the cold hardwood floor. She needed some sleep and this was perfect.

From the corner, Lynda, who had been curious by the sudden loud moans, who had witnessed Karen’s actions, silently returned to her room, her mind filled with weird thoughts, and her crotch on fire.

The next morning, Lynda got up and was expecting to find Karen still tied up in the living room but she wasn’t there. Fifteen minutes later, she heard her alarm clock trigger, and a few moments later, Karen walked out wearing a bathrobe.

“What? You free yourself? How?” asked a stunned Lynda.

“I said it before,” answered Karen with a broad smile, “an escape artist will not reveal its secrets,” she said, taking a paper towel to wipe the little mess she made while taking her cup of coffee and throwing it in the bin, quickly reaching down to push it further in, hiding the obviously knife-cuts piece of rope. She had managed to crawl back to her room and used a hidden knife to get out. But she was not about to reveal her secrets…

Another one of her secrets is that she kept the faux-leather leggings and the leg ropes for the night and it was the reason she was wearing her long bathrobe with pajama pants, to hide the rope marks, her, who would usually just strut around the flat in underwear in the morning.

it had been a weird night, full of very hot dreams. She more or less slept, turning and twisting, feeling her bound legs and enjoying every minute of it.

And more, those faux leather leggings, when she was touching them, her fingers were tinkling. It was as if they were electrified by it. She liked it. She wanted more.

While commuting to work, she noticed even more of those women in leather pants, or faux leather leggings or other tight pants and jeans… some were so shiny they looked like plastic. She began to wonder how they would feel going to the point of brushing against one, but she failed at feeling them. Or did she? What she touched was smooth and slippery.

She had a hard time focusing on her job but she was finally able to push those silly thoughts away and work. When her day ended, she was ready to go back home and put on her faux leather leggings, which was a good thing she had bought more than one pair because the ones from the day prior were soaked with… juice.

She had her first disappointment when she was about to board the bus: there were a lot of people. Way too many. She inquired and learned that an accident had closed that portion of the street and she would have to walk to the other bus stop, once block down. Resigned, she proceeded. Along the way, she passed in front of that store. That store she saw multiple times but never gave it much attention, but this time, something caught her eye. It was shiny and reflected the setting sun. It was a pair of pants… or rather a full-body suit. A catsuit. She looked carefully and everything in this store seemed to be gleaming, shiny like… latex?

Of course, she knew about latex garments. She had gone out, seen them at clubs and in fashion magazines, but… Funny it never caught her eyes more before. But now, things were different. She put her hand on the door to pull it open but she stopped.

“This has nothing to do with escape artists. Who the hell dressed with that?” she said as she waited a few moments before removing her hand and continuing on her way.

But all along the road home, she had thoughts. Regrets? Maybe. But there was always tomorrow. It’s not as if the store would disappear overnight.

The closer she got to the flat, the more intense the desire to be tied up grew. Not the desire to escape but the desire to be really tied up, in an escapable way. Little did she know that Lynda had had some thoughts of her own.

At the university, Lynda was having her own thoughts. What about her? What was she thinking? Was she a dangerous individual who would end up in jail?

There was this woman, Valerie. She knew her only by reputation, and the reputation was that she was a part-time mistress. All the images of women in bondage she looked at for ideas on how to tie Karen had some kind of Dominant/submissive vibe to it. All of them were sexually explicit, the subject being naked or wearing some fetishist attire, from simple high heels to a full latex catsuit.

She saw Valerie and wanted to talk to her but, she was shy. What if she looks like a fool? What if people around began to spread rumors that… that… well, whatever rumors they could spread? At one point, they locked eyes but Lynda quickly turned away, mouth opened as if she was about to ask a question.

Her classes went on. She had one class left and she was changing room when a woman she didn’t know approached her. Smiling, she simply put a piece of paper in Lynda’s hand and walked away. Puzzled, she looked at it.

“Service door B3. 16:30 sharp.”

That was it. What the hell was this about? And where was the service door B3? During the lecture, she looked at the University website. Luckily, it was in the same building, first floor, way at the back.

She would walk there from a distance to see who would be waiting for her. Carefully, she approached, ready to change paths, but there she was, Valerie, standing straight, arms crossed in front of her, waiting. As Lynda got near her, she looked at her watch.

“You’re two minutes late. I don’t like having to wait.”

“Well, sorry, I…I didn’t know the message was from you.”

“That’s no excuse,” said Valerie with a dry tone. Lynda was having second thoughts. She was cold and dry, probably not the right person to open up about her feelings.

“I… I think that was a mistake. Sorry.”

“Yeah, I knew it. You’re not even worthy of being one of my slaves,” said Valerie with a tone looking for confrontation.

Lynda stopped. Stunned.

“Slave?” she said, turning around. “I don’t want to be your slave. I just wanted to ask… I… oh, forget it, I should probably go see a psychology professor instead.”

“Wait, what? You wanted to ask me some questions? About what?” asked Valerie, her tone having changed drastically, more friendly. “Are you a journalist or something?”

“No, I am not, but I have those strange… feelings and I was wondering… Forget it.”

“No, I will not forget it. You wanted to talk to me. I am here. You are here. Let’s have a talk.” she said. “What are those strange feelings you have?” she asked again.

Lynda turned around. Should she? Would she be laughed at?

“You will probably find it silly,” she said, nervously giggling as she approached, and if you do, please tell me, I’ll seek someone else.”

“You know the saying: there are no stupid questions, just stupid answers. What’s going on?” asked Valerie, her tone now friendly and inviting. “I’m studying psychology, so… you could ask me… professionally…” she said with a warm smile.

Lynda explained what was happening with Karen, how she felt, and what she did. Valerie listened to her, only nodding her head, sometimes adding a “yes”, “I understand”, or a “please, go on”, but not saying anything else until Lynda was through.

She stayed silent for a moment and a smile formed on her face.

“There’s nothing wrong with you and no, you’re not about to become a serial abductor or anything like that. You’re a natural dominatrix.”

Lynda opened her eyes so wide her eyes bulged out of their sockets.

“Calm down. What I mean by that is that you’re deriving pleasure at controlling someone else, in that case, Karen. And I would add that… Karen is a natural submissive, but she hasn’t discovered it yet.”

“Uh… wow… Now what? What should I do? Dress in black leather and carry a whip?”

“Yeah right, like I’m dressed in black leather and I’m hiding a whip under my skirt? Being dominant is a question of attitude. The dress code is only for accessories. I mean, most of the time your sub will be blindfolded. He won’t see your black leather or your whip,” she said, giggling.

They talked for close to half an hour, exchanging ideas. Lynda left more puzzled than when she met her, but she promised to keep her updated.

They got home at about the same time.

“So, ready for another escape trial?” asked Lynda.

“Hum… maybe not tonight. I’m not really sure I want to,” said Karen, looking down.

“But you said yourself that you have to practice daily.”

“Yes but… I don’t know…” said Karen.

Lynda remembered her talk with Valerie: assert dominance.

“No, you have to practice. Get into your little outfit and I will tie you up. Come on, go. Now.” she said, dry and cold.

Karen was stunned. What was that coming from? Somehow, she felt compelled to obey Lynda. After all, she was right. If she wanted to become a good escape artist, she had to practice every day.

She changed into her faux leather leggings and leotard and walked to the living room, waiting for Lynda to tie her up.

She took the pose: legs together and arms in her back. But why? Why was she so eager to take that pose?

Lynda had a weird feeling. Yes, she liked commanding people around her, she was often nicknamed “the little boss”, but this was different. It wasn’t just asking someone to do something, it was telling Karen to do what SHE wanted. And Karen complied. That was a strange satisfaction feeling.

She wrapped Karen’s ankles in many coils of rope before passing the rope between her legs for the final tie. She repeated the same below and over her knees, and at her elbows and wrists, making the rope extra-tight. This time, Karen would have no chance of getting out.

But as she was helping Karen get on the floor, she had another idea. She didn’t know where that came from, perhaps from looking at too many images of women tied up, but she wrapped a rope around Karen’s waist and passed one strand from the back between her legs, pulling it back up at the front, making it bite into her crotch.

“Uh…what is that for?” asked Karen.

“You’ll tell me,” simply answered Lynda, helping Karen go lay on the ground.

She brought her ankles close to her wrists and linked them there Karen already knew there would be no escape without her hidden knife. And that crotch rope? That was really disturbing.

Without a word, Lynda left Karen there and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Karen began to squirm, trying to move her arms but that elbow tie was tight. With her ankles pulling on the middle of her wrist tie, it tightened it making it impossible to take her wrists off of it.

But she didn’t mind. For some reason, she liked being restrained. Wait. What was wrong with her? Nobody ‘likes’ being restrained. She had to get free, so she worked at it again, twisting her arms, moving her legs, rocking her body, which rolled on and off the crotch rope, which had an not unpleasant but undesired effect: she was getting aroused. Big time!

Eyes closed, she tried to concentrate on the task: getting free. But it felt so good. A strong smell took her out of her thoughts. Lynda was standing by her head. She crouched down and put down a bowl with some tuna salad.

“There’s your dinner,” she said, giggling, getting up and taking place on the sofa.

Karen was stunned for a moment.

“Aren’t you going to untie me so I can eat?” asked Karen.

“You’re the one who wanted to be tied up, you figure it out,” answered Lynda with a dry tone, in a ‘I don’t give a fuck’ tone.

Karen was slightly taken aback. After all, she was right. She wanted to be tied up… No, wait. Lynda told her to get ready. She’s the one who wanted her tied up. Then again, she could have said no. Why did she say yes?

She was puzzled. And she was hungry. However, the bowl was a little too far, so she had to crawl her way to it. Doing so, she rocked on the crotch rope until she almost had an orgasm. She was panting hard, her crotch was on fire, and she was about to eat… what a strange mix of feelings. All she could do now was dip her face into the bowl to eat. Messy but it worked. She could feel bits of lettuce, tuna, and other ingredients stick to her face.

That meal was welcomed but she had to get free. She had no intention to spend the whole evening or worse, the whole night like that.

Then again… wouldn’t she?

Of course, she made a mess, spreading half the salad outside the bowl. But that wasn’t the important thing happening. Struggling, trying to eat forced her to stay on her stomach and the movements of her shoulders rocked her hips… over the crotch rope.

She was now more disturbed than hungry, and when she pulled on her wrists rope by trying to unfold her legs, it seemed that that strong feeling of being restrained was emphasizing the pleasure, because, she had to admit it, she liked it. she liked the crotch rope and the bondage.

It felt good. Really good. She was no longer trying to escape now, she was just trying to have some pleasure. Lynda was watching her from the kitchen. Of course, she fully realized what was going on. It made her hot to see Karen struggling but a little pissed off that she was arousing herself with it.

“Well, are you a dominant or not? You should stop her from enjoying herself,” said a little voice in her head. She had to ascertain dominance, but how? By removing the crotch rope?

Karen was making more noise, her moans were increasing. Her eyes were closed. She was enjoying the bondage. Being an escape artist was far from her mind at the moment, she just liked to be tied up. She was pulled out of her daydream by something being wrapped around her head, around her mouth, entering it. She opened her eyes. Lynda was tying a scarf around her head, trying to gag her.

“What are you doing?” she managed to blab out.

“Silencing you. You’re… enjoying yourself too much,” she said as she tightly tied the scarf at the back of Karen’s neck, stretching her mouth wide. “You’re not there to have pleasure but to try to escape, remember? Now if… uh…” she began to say, searching what to say, “… uh… if… if you…”

She hesitated. Should she? She would be crossing the line from the helper to the dominant. Was she right to do it? Would Karen play the game or be pissed off? They never thought about it. Maybe only she liked playing the Dominant and Karen wasn’t into it at all. Oh well, the only way to know how the water is, is to plunge.”

“If you masturbate, I’m not helping you get out until the morning.”

Karen froze. What the heck did she just say? Masturbate? She wasn’t masturbating. Maybe enjoying it a little, but she was not masturbating. Or was she? The thoughts were getting all mixed up in her mind. She wasn’t sure of anything right now, except for one thing. That one she knew for sure.

She liked it.

Lynda sat on the sofa and tried to watch some TV. Karen was slowly squirming on the floor, softly trying to get out of her bondage. However, every pull, every move was just arousing her. The rope gently rubbing at her crotch wasn’t the main trigger but it was a damn large contributor.

In fact, after some time, she wasn’t even trying to escape. She was just enjoying it, her mind wandering around, eyes closed. At one point, she had turned her head to the side. While softly moaning while chewing on her gag, she opened her eyes. Lynda was there, lying on the sofa, turned to her side, looking at her with a stern face.

“Mffaaaph?” asked Karen.

“Oh, nothing. I was just trying to imagine how you will be feeling tomorrow morning. Well, I just have to wait, after all,” she said, getting up. “Kinky dreams!” she said as she was leaving.

“Mnooooo! Kooommph gack! Ugnnty gmeee.”

“Nope, Karen. That was the deal.”

The lights were turned off and Karen found herself alone. She squirmed, trying to get free, but it only aroused her. The more she rolled, the more she pulled, the more she felt the rope biting into her ankles. The more she felt the ropes tighten around her knees. The more she felt her shoulders strain with the elbow tie.

The more she liked it.

The hotter she became.

It wasn’t long before the challenge of getting our was no longer considered. A new priority had appeared: getting an orgasm! She was building one. Slowly but surely.

She rocked her hips, squishing her breasts, moaning. The now-soaked rag in her mouth was hurting her stretched lips, but even that seemed to help her climb the orgasm ladder. One step at a time, one rocking of her body at a time. One pull on her legs, one stretch of her shoulders, one wiggle of her tightly held ankles, one more roll over the rope.

One more.

Just another one.

Yes… That one.

She screamed as the orgasm suddenly engulfed her, like a stick of dynamite exploding in her crotch, but it was a pleasure bomb! Her whole crotch was on fire, followed by her body. It was riding inside her cells, reaching the end of each limb like many little needles poking her, reviving her skin, tickling the pleasure cells one after the other in perfect order.

She didn’t feel her body, only the pleasure. She could feel the restraints which only increased the pleasure. She saw images, images of women in shiny outfits and spiky high-heeled footwear, their bodies completely covered. Even their faces were covered. She had seen those pictures before, on the Internet, in some obscure post about people with weird habits.

But now, those ‘weird habits’ were not that weird anymore. she liked it. She imagined herself living it. As the tip of her fingers brushed against her faux-leather leggings, she imagined having her body completely enclosed into that fabric. What would it feel like?

Surely, it would be awesome. Awesome like the second orgasm that engulfed her.

Damn, just the thought of being encased in leather and tied up was enough to bring her to climax again!

Once more, the pleasure hormones raced through her body, from her toes to the tip of her hair. Powerfully enjoyable.

She was panting and the wet scarf was creating some breathing restriction. She tried to calm down but it only result was a third orgasm!

No fucking way! Three times in a row!

But that one was less powerful. She didn’t have the energy to keep it going. Exhaustion brought her back to the real world where she felt the ropes around her ankles, knees, wrists and elbows. Where the crotch rope became a disturbance again. Panting, she tried to rest a little.

She opened her eyes. The room was dark except for some street lights filtering from the closed curtains of the patio door. Shit! What time was it?

The bondage that had been a pleasure was now disturbing. She wasn’t hurting, she was just uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. Her legs wanted to stretch. her arms wanted to fold. Her shoulders wanted some relief. But she couldn’t. She could only wiggle, fully knowing that she would not be able to get out of her situation.

She felt really stuck and she was completely helpless. She couldn’t do anything about it. She just had to wait for someone to free her, for Lynda to remove the ropes, for… Damn! Was she getting wet at the thought? Was being under the control of someone else arousing? Just the thought or the mix of the thought and the ropes?

And that gag, annoying, making her drool. She caught herself having a thought about a blindfold.

that all felt so wrong… and right, and found herself gently rolling on the crotch rope.

“What the fuck is going on with my brain?” she asked herself as she brought pleasure down there. Not enough to have an orgasm, but, you know, just to have fun.

That put her mind elsewhere, daydreaming, or rather nightdreaming. Again, images of bound women she saw somewhere, filled her mind as she slowly drifted into a weird sleep of exhaustion.

Her sleep was rather light and she heard Lynda walk out of her bedroom and slowly walk toward her.

It felt strange, to see those feet getting closer. Her stance seemed different. Comfident. Was it Dominant?

“Did you learn your lesson?” asked Lynda.

Lesson? What lesson? She was there because she couldn’t free herself.

“Next time, when I tell you to stop working yourself up, you listen or the punishment will be harder,” said Lynda, removing the ropes.

Karen moaned as her limbs began to work again. She didn’t say a word. Her mind was a mess. What was all this about? Is Lynda giving her orders? Commands? And she liked the thought and the control? And punishment? Yeah, right. She CHOSE to be tied up. It wasn’t a punishment. Or was it?

She took a long shower and when she got out, Lynda was already gone but had left a note on the table.

“I have late classes today. I want you ready, in full outfit, ready to be tied up for the evening when I’ll get back, or there will be consequences.”

What the hell was that for? She had no right to give her orders. She was an escape artist, and as an artist, she would do what she wanted.

As she dressed up, she realized that the rope marks were still visible and thus, although it was a hot day, she had to wear long sleeves and full pants.

On the commute, she found herself looking at people in high heels, in tight pants, even saw that young woman in shiny PVC leggings. She was so lost that she missed her stop and had to walk back one block to her workplace, passing in front of that boutique again. She stopped and looked in the display window.

All day long, at work, she couldn’t forget what she saw in that shop’s window. She might try it. Would she? Would she be bold enough to get one of those shiny suits? And high heels?

At the end of the day, she was heading for her bus stop. She hesitated. This way or that way? To the boutique or not? She got on the bus and the first sight of high heels made her get down at the next stop, and she walked back to the shop. She had to try it.

She put her hand on the door and stopped. Hesitating. Looking at the display window, at the catsuit. She glanced on either side, on the sidewalk. People were passing by. Most ignoring her, but some looking at her. Not at HER, but at a woman standing at the door with a hand on it, not moving.

Hearth pounding, breath shaking, she pushed it and entered.

Her mind was buzzing. What the hell was she doing? She felt like the first time she entered a sex shop.

She was immediately overwhelmed by the smell. She recognized leather but there was something else.

She approached the first rack which contained spandex garments, leotards, shirts, tights, the classic.

A young blond woman raised her head from the back of the store.

“If you need any help, just call me,” she said with a soft voice.

“N… no. Just browsing for now, thanks,” said Karen,

She changed racks. This one was more interesting. Smooth-feeling plastic-like items, PVC or something. Tops, bottoms, shorts, skirts, etc.

She liked the feeling, the touch. Icy at first, then warming up. and also the sound as they creaked as she manipulated the items.

And the third rack. Now, this was the strange smell she couldn’t figure out. Looks like balloon material.

“Latex, right? Well, that’s what the tag says,” she mumbled to herself.

Then, on the wall, shoes and boots. Nothing flat. Only heels, and high they were. She looked at one. A classic platform with a”Y” strap, the kind she often seen in Internet pictures.

“Looking for anything in particular?” asked the short woman, making Karen jump. She looked at her: small, curvy body, wearing a red long-sleeve dress and high heels boots.

“Uh, sorry. I was lost in my thoughts. I… I don’t know. This is all new to me. I’m not even sure I want something if it’s a good idea.”

“You can take your time, there’s no rush. Do you currently own something? Heels? Latex?” she asked.

“No, nothing. Well, I bought faux-leather leggings a few days ago and, well, I like the touch of it.

“Yes, that’s good.”

“And I also have a spandex leotard.” quickly added Karen.

“Hum, okay. And you would like to go to… PVC? Latex? We also have some neoprene garments, from swimsuits to full dive suits, but with fetish games in mind.” she said, pointing to a corner of the boutique.

“I’m not sure. I was thinking about that suit in the window,” said Karen, pointing to the item.

“The purple PVC catsuit? Sure. Would you like to try one?”

Karen was unprepared for that. She came in out of curiosity. Actually trying one?”

“I… I don’t want to be trouble…” stuttered Karen.

“Trouble? Please! You’re in a fetish clothing store. People trying items is my daily life. So, what size? Let me guess,” she said, eying Karen from head to toe, then going back by the wall, browsing through a few catsuits, and picking one.

“Hum… What do you think of hot pink?”

“Uh… Pink isn’t…” stuttered Karen.

“It’s just for sizing, I’ll look for one in purple once your size is settled. Care to try it? You must know that, with the intended use of those items, there’s no return on them.”

“Intended use? asked Karen, quickly realizing what she meant, “uh, of course, not,” she said, nodding her head.

“So, you put this on to protect the suit,” she said, giving her a plastic bag containing a pair of disposable pantied. The dressing booth is just here,” she said, pointing to one of the three booths near the register.

Karen went in. Her hands were shaking as she took off her casual business suit, stripping to her underwear before putting the disposable panties on. She then grabbed the suit, worked open the long zipper and sat, to slide her right leg down the suit.

She immediately realized that this would be a tight fit. A very tight fit. Her foot was barely able to pop out of the other end.

“I… I think it’s too small, I can barely fit my leg in it,” she said.

“Take your time. This is a rather thick PVC and it needs to warm up. Let your body soften it. Just pull gently on it. You’ll see. It will feel rigid at first then it will soften. It only takes a couple of seconds,” said the woman.

Karen tried it, letting it rest then slowly picking it up. That woman was right. It expanded and stretched more easily once warm. She pulled the bottom portion up to her waist, feeling her legs, her crotch being engulfed in the shiny pink fabric.

She reached for the top portion and slid her hands into the tight sleeves while waiting for the PVC to warm up.

“It works, but it’s weird… err… sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” said Karen.

“It’s Sandra, and yes, it makes for a weird experience for putting it on. Spandex and especially latex are more easy to put on than PVC. Are you still okay?”

“Yes, I just need to close the zipper… Damn, this is tight!” said Karen as she struggled to pull the zipper over her already thin waist.

“Then the fit is perfect. Come out so I can see it, please,” said Sandra.

Karen complied. A little shy of what she looked like. This was so much NOT her. Sandra smiled, eyes wide.

“You look stunning and, yeah, hot pink is not your color. Turn around, please,” she asked.

Karen complied, looking at herself in the multiple mirrors reflecting on 3 sides. The suit was tight, the seams were stretching. Her buns were tightly enclosed, making the crease behind her firm butt very visible. Her waist seemed a little loose and her breasts were a little squished but the breast pockets of the suit were fine. She brushed her hands, from her chest to her waist, to her hips, back to her butt, feeling the crease.

“Feels so…”

“Burning? Because you look hot as hell!” said Sandra, smiling. “Although the sizing needs some adjustment, but I think I have the one for you,” she added, going to the PVC catsuit rack and flipping suit after suit.

“Nope… nope… no… Hum… maybe… nope, nop… wait.! YES” she said, producing a purple catsuit.!

Karen walked around. For some reason, she was standing on her toes.

“Oh, care for high heels? You were looking at… hum… these, right?” said Sandra, putting the purple catsuit on the counter and heading for the shoe rack.

“Yes, but… I don’t know. I never wore high heels before. I don’t even know if I could walk in something that high.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. But the only to confirm it is for you to try it. Here, slide your feet in those,” she said, putting shoes on the floor, and kneeling to fasten the Y-strap around Karen’s ankles. “Try that,” she said once she was done and back on her feet.

Karen made a few testing steps.

“Oh, not that bad, actually,” she said, making more steps, turning around swiftly, perhaps a little too swiftly as she lost balance and had to grab hold of the nearby wall, making a few items fall. “Oh, I’m so clumsy, sorry,” she said, crouching down to pick the items back up, yelping at the same time.

“Something wrong?” asked Sandra.

Karen’s face was red.

“N… No. Well, I mean, it pinched… you know where,” she said, giggling and blushing.

“Yeah, it does that sometimes. Care to pass me the ballgag behind you?”

“The what?” asked Karen, then seeing the leather web with a red ball fixed to it. “Ah this? What is it exactly?” she asked.

“It’s a gag, to silence a submissive,” said Sandra, mimicking putting it over her head and the ball in her mouth.

“Uh… I’m not a submissive…” said Karen, trailing off her thoughts, still rubbing the suit. She walked a few more times. “Yes, not bad. Okay, how much is all of this?”

Sandra walked to the register, scanned both products and gave Karen a scratch card.

“Let’s see how much you’ll save today… Shit! Wow! 50%? That’s awesome, right?” exclaimed Sandra.

“I… I guess so, but you surely say that to everybody, right? All the cards have 50%, right?”

“No, not at all,” giggled Sandra. “There’s only two 50% and one 100%. The rest are mostly 5, 10 and 15%.”

“Oh wow. I’m really lucky then,” said Karen, handing over her credit card.

As Sandra was processing it, she heard a muffled clank and Sandra jerked back.

“Something wrong?” asked Karen.

“Nah, I just bang my belt on the counter,” said Sandra as if it was nothing.

“Your belt? But you’re not wearing any belt.”

Sandra took a step back and lifted the hem of her short latex dress, revealing a steel chastity belt. Karen had her eyes wide!

“What the heck is that for?” asked Karen, stunned.

“It’s a chastity belt,” answered Sandra with a smirk.

“A chast… Like… like… like in those medieval times, with the King or someone keeping the key to prevent the woman from having sex?”

“Yes, exactly, but it’s a modern version,” she said, gently tapping on the front shield, “much more comfortable.”

“But… but… I thought… I thought that those were Hollywood inventions or something.”

“No, it’s real,” said Sandra, giggling.

“Uh… but… why? Is your husband forcing you to wear that? That’s insane.”

“No,” said Sandra, still giggling, “my partner doesn’t force me to wear it. It’s part of my kinky lifestyle. I just like wearing it.”

“But… Why at work?”

“Well… look around you. I’m surrounded by sexy things, and I help people become horny all day long. I would be edging myself all the time,” she said with a wink.

“Uh… wow… well, yes. I guess,” said Karen, not exactly understanding what was so hot about spandex, PVC, Latex, high heels, etc.

She paid and a few moments later, she was getting out of the boutique, smiling, holding her shopping bag. She wondered how Lynda would react seeing her in that outfit.

The commute back home seemed to take forever. She had to be there before Lynda, with enough time to change, otherwise… Would that make it a… punishment?”

The thought, the visions of kinks? Was that it? Anyway, images were going through her mind, creating weird feelings, strange thoughts, and a wetness at her crotch.

She quickly got out of her business casual outfit and took a shower before stepping into her new catsuit. Well… Which underwear she should put on? For some reason, silk panties didn’t seem to fit the bill, not any other one. She had a flashback of some PVC panties she held in her hands while browsing the racks.

“Tomorrow… maybe,” she mumbled, choosing her silkiest panties and putting them on. Next, she unfolded the catsuit from the silk paper wrapping it. Her breath began to shake the moment she touched the slick purple surface with her fingers. She opened the long zipper and fed her feet in it.

As the one she tried at the store, it was a tight fit. But she knew what to do: let it warm up with the body. Little by little she pulled it up.

“Not sure,” she mumbled, “but this thing is way tighter than the one I tried,” she said as she slowly pulled the legs up. They were tightly wrapping her calves, her thighs and when it came to her butt, she wondered if it would go over them or rip in half.

“Shit!” she said.

She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She wanted it on, but she didn’t want to rip it off.

“Relax, Karen. Let the fabric warm up,” she mumbled to herself, slowly pulling on the thick PVC. And that was it. She realized what it was. It wasn’t tighter, it was thicker. She let the PVC warm up and slowly and surely, the suit went up, passing her hips, her waist. She struggled to put her hands in the sleeves and gently let the suit warm up and mold her body to perfection.

The one at the shop was loose at the waist. This one was not! She had to suck her stomach in to pull the zipper over her belly and that one fit perfectly over her breasts. No more squishing, just perfectly molding mounds!

She looked at herself in the long mirror. She was stunning! And she was standing on her toes.

“What the f… Oh!” she said, as she took the black platform shoes out of the box. She had to sit to put them on, which pulled on the back of the suit, making the suit pinch her crotch.

She let out a little yelp, and she was panting as she fastened the shoes on, quickly getting back up, one hand at her crotch, the other covering her mouth in shame, her face blushing.

“That was so wrong… and so good.”

She made a few steps and she liked the whole feeling. From the look to the sensation to the position of her feet.

Just as she was tidying up her room, picking up the packaging of her new outfit, she heard the door of the flat open.

“Karen? Are you ready?”

Lynda was waiting for her, a stern look on her face. To be honest, she had lied to Karen. Sort of. She didn’t have late classes. Well, in a sense, yes, but not at school. She had met Valerie for her first crash course at being a Dominatrix, actually assisting at a live session at the dungeon where Valerie was renting a room to work with one of her slaves. And she was eager to put to use what she had learned. But she had doubts. Was Karen really a submissive?

“I told you to be ready when I’ll be home,” began to coldly say Lynda, “So, where are…”

Her phrase stopped dead when she saw Karen walk out of her room, her body molded into a very tight-fitting purple PVC catsuit, slowly walking on high-heeled platform shoes.

That sight screwed up the whole speech she had prepared. She was about to tell Karen that her outfit, which she expected to be the spandex leotard and the faux-leather leggings, was simply awful and that the next time, she wanted her to be in a catsuit and to put on some high heels.

So… What now? In her head, the scenario was not expecting this!

“Too much?” asked Karen, slowly making a full turn on herself to show off her suit, gleaming in the setting sun, molding her curves to perfection, and creaking when she moved her arms. “I was passing in front of the boutique and, well, at first, I just wanted to have a look but, this looks good… I… I can take it off, if you prefer,” she said, frowning from Lynda’s silent treatment.

“No, that’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting this,” managed to say Lynda.

“I mean… Your ties are so tight that I thought wearing something smooth like that would help me… uh… escape,” said Karen, rubbing her hands on her thighs, feeling the smooth fabric that was getting hotter by the minute.

“Oh… yes… maybe it could help,” mumbled Lynda, trying to focus, to get back to the Dominant mode, to rebuild a scenario in her mind.

“Hum, okay… Put your hands on your back,” she said, trying to sound cold, ordering, as she moved past Karen to get a coil of rope.

She grabbed Karen’s arms and folded them upward, putting her hands between her shoulder blades. She then wrapped rope between her wrists, and then her elbows, locking them into this position.

“Wow! That’s gonna be tough to get out of this one,” said Karen, laughing nervously. That was not what she was expected for a tie-up.

Lynda struggled with the ropes, trying to remember Valerie’s lessons, adding more rope to her wrists, passing them over her shoulders, then doing some sort of criss-cross around her breasts, going back behind her below her chest to grab the arms and pulling them tighter against her back, locking them in place.

Karen was at a loss for words. That was extreme. She already knew there would be no way out of this, that it was, somewhat, disabling her escape artist’s tricks. But her breath was beginning to tremble. She liked it but in a strange way. She slowly squirmed, testing the bond. She could only wiggle her fingers.

Without a word, Lynda wrapped a couple of coils around Karen’s waist then pulled a double-length of rope between her legs, pinching them at the level of her crotch, taking it off and making a few knots there, before feeding it again between Karen’s legs and pulling it tightly up the back, linking it back with the waist rope, the knots digging into Karen’s crotch through her very tight PVC catsuit.

Karen gasped. That would be disturbing, to say the least.

Lynda then. kneeled to tie Karen’s legs, adding more rope over and below her knees and at her ankles.

“How does it feel?” she asked as she tightened, as hard as she could, the last knot of the ankle tie.

“Uh… inescapable and… uncomfortable,” said Karen, trying to wiggle her arms out of their extreme position, “especially those knots on the crotch,” she added, this time making a horny smile and a giggle.

“Okay… Let me help you get down on the floor, or you prefer to stay upright?”

Karen only looked at her with a “come-on” look, knowing perfectly that she would fall down on the first wiggle.

Lynda gently lowered the bound body on the floor, setting her up on the small carpet between the living room table and the TV. Karen moaned as she rolled on her stomach and felt the knots of the crotch rope dig into her sensitive parts.

Also, her breasts, wrapped in the chest rope, were feeling the bondage for the first time and it wasn’t a bad feeling.

“Now see?,” began Lynda, “I noticed that you seemed to enjoy these tie-up sessions a little too much and… “

“No, I’m not…” cut-in Karen.

“… I don’t think that, if you were to do this to an audience, having an orgasm in front of your public would go down well, so, you will have to control yourself. If you orgasm, I put you into a hogtie and you will spend the night like that. Understood?”

She had said it with a commanding voice. A cold voice Karen never heard before. It felt almost threatening. And it didn’t go down like a suggestion or a choice. That was it! And it made her hot as hell.

Wait! Why? Why is being ordered to behave, or rather forbidding her to have sexual pleasure, turning her on? Anyway, it wasn’t about sexual pleasure, it was about her escape artist performances. That’s why she bought that suit and… those… heels. What the fuck did she do? Why did she buy those items in the first place? Being an escape artist doesn’t require PVC catsuits or high heels.

She tried to concentrate on her freedom. However, the creaking of the PVC with her struggles, feeling how it slid on the small carpet, her extreme arms position, the very fact that she would not get out of it, plus that crotch rope with the fucking knots was making her go nuts (yeah, pun intended!).

She squirmed her legs, feeling the heels on her foot and also feeling them easily slide on the carpet. Damn, that PVC thing was slippery, but at the same time, sticky with the rope. What a weird fabric, she thought.

The more she struggled, the more the knots were arousing her.

“Must not orgasm, must not orgasm,” she kept repeating herself. But it was like eating your favorite dessert and trying to control yourself to eat only one spoonful… Oh, just another one. Just another one. Just another… and the first thing you know is that you ate it all.

Well, her teasing went along the same way. “Just a little bit more and I’ll stop before orgasming,” she was repeating in her mind. “just a little bit more. One more stroke. That should do it… Oh, just one more. Uh… just anotheeeeeeer!!!”

And it was too late. She let out a growl that couldn’t be mistaken.

By that time, Lynda was sitting on the sofa and she watched Karen living her orgasm as if there was no one else around her, enjoying every stroke of her hips, every teasing moment of the knot, every last drop of pleasure hormone rushing through her body.

She only realized that Lynda had been watching, and thus is fully aware of what happened, when she felt her legs being folded backward and a rope attached from the chest harness to her ankles, pulling her chest up toward her ankles in a very back arched hogtie.

“Oooo! Shit!” said Karen.

“You can’t complain. I warned you.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t a hogtie. How the fuck do you expect me to get out of this?”

“That’s the point, Karen. I don’t WANT you to get out of it. It’s your punishment for not obeying my command.”

Command. Punishment. It was the first time those words were used. Even Lynda wasn’t sure about what she had just said. It just came out that way. Karen was puzzled by those same words and, somehow, she knew that Lynda was right. And she also knew that she deserved that… punishment. After all, it was the best way to train her to NOT orgasm in front of a crowd. Yeah, that should teach her.

“But… you didn’t need to go to that extreme, you know?” she said, wiggling, trying to move her arms but being denied to by the tight ropes. “Besides… uh… what are you doing?” she asked as she witnessed Lynda unpacking a brand new bath sponge ball and picking up a roll of duct tape.

“Valerie told me that this is a lot more efficient than a scarf gag. Open up!” she ordered.

“Open up? No, wait. This is out of the quegkjggfffmmghg!”

Karen fought it but she couldn’t move much. Lynda stuffed the sponge inside Karen’s mouth and capped it using 1, 2…3… 4… FIVE pieces of duct tape, pretty much covering her whole face, from the top of her nose to below her chin, locking it in place and keeping that sponge deeply inside. She moaned.

“Yeah. Just a moan is acceptable, but keep it down, I have to study,” said Lynda, sitting on the sofa and picking up her computer.

Karen stared at her, waiting for her to laugh, to tell that it was just a joke, to free her but Lynda seemed to completely ignore her. Karen moaned again. Louder.

Lynda got up and picked up more sponges but smaller and the duct tape again, as well as a nylon stocking. She pulled the nylon sock over Karen’s head then, stretching back the sock, she inserted one sponge over each eye and one over each ear, and then wrapped the top of her head in duct tape, even going down to include her mouth, her jaw, and back on top of her head. In no time, Karen’s head was fully wrapped in duct tape, silenced, deaf, and blindfolded.

It was simply overwhelming! The pressure around her head was immense. Breathing was difficult as she could only do it through her nose, passing through the nylon stocking. She could only hear the sound of her beating heart through her head and as she moved, as she struggled, she discovered that the crotch rope was even more… arousing!

Fuck! What the hell was going on in her mind? The more she struggled, the more she liked it, the hornier she became, the more she struggled. Damn! Isn’t there any way out of this perverted loop?

Hearing Karen’s moans, hearing the PVC creaks as she struggled, took Lynda out of her studies. She just sat there, watching the purple worm fight her bondage and obviously, liking every second of it. It was obvious that she was heading for another orgasm. Not exactly a punishment, but how to stop it? For a moment she admires how the light reflected out of the shiny purple catsuit, how Karen struggled in her bondage. She could see the muscles strain, working as she tried to get free, or rather build another orgasm. And looking at her head, tightly wrapped in grey tape was simply a wonderful sight, thinking about what she could be going through, and especially how she, Lynda, had total control over her. She could keep her like that for as long as she wanted. Or…

With a devilish smile, she kneeled by Karen.

Karen suddenly felt hands on her left shoulder and hip and she was quickly flipped to her right side, removing any pressure from her crotch rope.

“Fuck!! No! Put me back!” she tried to scream through her gagged mouth, but nothing more than a grunt came out.

Lynda took a pair of safety scissors and removed the crotch rope, allowing Karen to roll back on her stomach.

Karen searched for the knots, the rope but… nothing. Trying as she might, although this was arousing, she knew she would not orgasm. And as everything became silent, she realized that this was heading to be a long, restless night.

She was dozing on and off. The tie was tough. Her shoulders were aching, her arms were getting numb. Her head was pounding. That headwrap was very tight. Her jaw was aching from the stretch. Yet, in her mind, she was seeing images of women tied up, suspended, wrapped. Where were those coming from? From some obscure area of her memory? She vaguely had seen them before, in magazines, on the Internet, on TV, but… why was she finding them arousing? Why did she want to… try them all?

Suddenly, she felt her legs being released. She moaned as her legs were gently put down and her weight rested on her chest.

Already the morning? Well, it had been a long night. She would probably call in sick. She was so tired and aching from everywhere.

Her arms were released. They hurt as Lynda moved them out of their extreme position. She flexed them as her legs were released. Her head was still encased in the tape wrap. She felt it with her hands. It was so smooth, so tight, so… No, it couldn’t be arousing. She wanted to get out.

She felt something cold, some steel rod, being pressed between her skin and the nylon stocking. Gradually, the head wrap loosened, being opened by the pair of safety scissors Lynda was using.

Her eyes were freed and she blinked, but… it was dark. What time was it? What’s going on?

She didn’t need to ask as Lynda pulled the soaked sponge out of her mouth.

“It’s past midnight. I’m not about to leave you like that longer. For once, we never agreed on it and for two, I could hurt you really bad. I don’t have Valerie’s experience in tying someone up. Your arms were about to turn blue. Take your time. If you need anything, just tell me.

“N… No. I’m fine… I think,” mumbled Karen, half there, half still dreaming about those images of women tied up.

Her arms, her legs were hurting as she tried to get up. She finally crawled to her bed, climbed on it, and fell asleep.

She woke some time later. It felt weird. It was as if she was missing something. Oh, yeah, she was still in her PVC catsuit. Maybe she should take it off, but… it felt so good. Why take it off? She liked it in there.

But something was missing. She turned to one side, then to the other. Nope, something was missing but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She twisted and turned, trying to find sleep but she was just wide awake.

Then she spotted them, on her night table. No, come on. It couldn’t be. She sat, realizing that she was also still wearing her high heel shoes. She extended her hand to grab the coil of rope and the police handcuffs.

Eyes closed, as if not to miss any second of sleep, she expertly tied her ankles together. She had done it so often, she didn’t need to see what she was doing.

She lay on her side and put her hands on her back, expertly working the handcuffs.

Click! Click!

There, she was tied up for the night.

Sleep went fast and easy. What the f…?

Her alarm clock woke her up. Half dreaming she was still bound in the living room, it took her some time to realize that she was in her bedroom, handcuffed. It took her some time to remember that she did it herself and where she put the keys.

About twenty minutes later, she walked out of her bedroom sporting a long bathrobe, hiding the rope marks and the seam marks left by the tight PVC catsuit. She headed for a much-needed shower and came out after it, much refreshed.

She was expecting to see Lynda but she wasn’t there, her room door opened. She noticed a note left on the dining room table.

She read it:

“Hello, Karen. I hope you don’t hold a grudge about last evening/night as I might have gone a little too far. Okay, way too far. Tying you up like I did and forcing you to spend the night like that was not okay on my part, and for that I’m sorry. I’m still learning that Dominant/submissive stuff and I’m not sure I do it right.”

“Dominant/submissive stuff? What the hell is she talking about?” said Karen as if she was talking to the note. “I wanted to be tied up. You gave me a challenge and I failed. I deserved that pun… oh…” she said, trailing off. She continued.

“I’ll be staying with a friend for the next couple of days. I think I, and perhaps yourself, need some time out to make the point, think about what all this means. I’ll be at our regular club on Friday evening around 22:00. I hope to see you there. Come give me a hug if you want us to continue that path of discovery, or just a wave if you prefer us to part ways. If you choose the second option, I’ll have my stuff out within the week. Love, – Lynda.”

Karen re-read the note a few more times, hands shaking. What the hell was going on? Would a simple exercise, a simple escape challenge bring their fifteen-year relationship to an end?

Working was difficult. Her mind was elsewhere. It was with Lynda. It was with the ropes in the living room. It was in that fetish store. it was everywhere except on the work at hand. Early afternoon, she went to her boss, stating that she wasn’t feeling too well, she asked to take the rest of the day off.

“Yeah, I could tell something was bothering you. You seemed… absent. Care to talk about it?” he asked.

“Me and Lynda had… well…”

“Say no more, not my business. I just hope everything will turn out fine. Go home, take your time. You’re no use here if you can’t concentrate on your work,” he said with an understanding smile.

Karen thanked him and she walked out. She was getting to her bus stop. The bus was coming. She began to run and then she stopped. The driver was looking at her, waiting.

She nodded ‘no’ and turned to walk one block up, to the fetish store.

With a firm gesture, she pushed the door open until she hit the stoppers, making Sandra jump.

“Oh, gosh! you startled me. Are you alright?” asked Sandra.

Karen froze for a moment. Sandra was there, in front of her, standing on pointed boots, her body sealed in a bright red rubber catsuit, her waist crushed by a red leather corset and her gleaming chastity belt worn on the outside in full view.

“That!” firmly said Karen, pointing to the belt. “Tell me about it. All about it!”

Part II

That sight screwed up the whole speech she had prepared. She was about to tell Karen that her outfit, which she expected to be the spandex leotard and the faux-leather leggings, was simply awful and that the next time, she wanted her to be in a catsuit and to put on some high heels.

So… What now? In her head, the scenario was not expecting this!

“Too much?” asked Karen, slowly making a full turn on herself to show off her suit, gleaming in the setting sun, molding her curves to perfection, and creaking when she moved her arms. “I was passing in front of the boutique and, well, at first, I just wanted to have a look but, this looks good… I… I can take it off, if you prefer,” she said, frowning from Lynda’s silent treatment.

“No, that’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting this,” managed to say Lynda.

“I mean… Your ties are so tight that I thought wearing something smooth like that would help me… uh… escape,” said Karen, rubbing her hands on her thighs, feeling the smooth fabric that was getting hotter by the minute.

“Oh… yes… maybe it could help,” mumbled Lynda, trying to focus, to get back to the Dominant mode, to rebuild a scenario in her mind.

“Hum, okay… Put your hands on your back,” she said, trying to sound cold, ordering, as she moved past Karen to get a coil of rope.

She grabbed Karen’s arms and folded them upward, putting her hands between her shoulder blades. She then wrapped rope between her wrists, and then her elbows, locking them into this position.

“Wow! That’s gonna be tough to get out of this one,” said Karen, laughing nervously. That was not what she was expected for a tie-up.

Lynda struggled with the ropes, trying to remember Valerie’s lessons, adding more rope to her wrists, passing them over her shoulders, then doing some sort of criss-cross around her breasts, going back behind her below her chest to grab the arms and pulling them tighter against her back, locking them in place.

Karen was at a loss for words. That was extreme. She already knew there would be no way out of this, that it was, somewhat, disabling her escape artist’s tricks. But her breath was beginning to tremble. She liked it but in a strange way. She slowly squirmed, testing the bond. She could only wiggle her fingers.

Without a word, Lynda wrapped a couple of coils around Karen’s waist then pulled a double-length of rope between her legs, pinching them at the level of her crotch, taking it off and making a few knots there, before feeding it again between Karen’s legs and pulling it tightly up the back, linking it back with the waist rope, the knots digging into Karen’s crotch through her very tight PVC catsuit.

Karen gasped. That would be disturbing, to say the least.

Lynda then. kneeled to tie Karen’s legs, adding more rope over and below her knees and at her ankles.

“How does it feel?” she asked as she tightened, as hard as she could, the last knot of the ankle tie.

“Uh… inescapable and… uncomfortable,” said Karen, trying to wiggle her arms out of their extreme position, “especially those knots on the crotch,” she added, this time making a horny smile and a giggle.

“Okay… Let me help you get down on the floor, or you prefer to stay upright?”

Karen only looked at her with a “come-on” look, knowing perfectly that she would fall down on the first wiggle.

Lynda gently lowered the bound body on the floor, setting her up on the small carpet between the living room table and the TV. Karen moaned as she rolled on her stomach and felt the knots of the crotch rope dig into her sensitive parts.

Also, her breasts, wrapped in the chest rope, were feeling the bondage for the first time and it wasn’t a bad feeling.

“Now see?,” began Lynda, “I noticed that you seemed to enjoy these tie-up sessions a little too much and… “

“No, I’m not…” cut-in Karen.

“… I don’t think that, if you were to do this to an audience, having an orgasm in front of your public would go down well, so, you will have to control yourself. If you orgasm, I put you into a hogtie and you will spend the night like that. Understood?”

She had said it with a commanding voice. A cold voice Karen never heard before. It felt almost threatening. And it didn’t go down like a suggestion or a choice. That was it! And it made her hot as hell.

Wait! Why? Why is being ordered to behave, or rather forbidding her to have sexual pleasure, turning her on? Anyway, it wasn’t about sexual pleasure, it was about her escape artist performances. That’s why she bought that suit and… those… heels. What the fuck did she do? Why did she buy those items in the first place? Being an escape artist doesn’t require PVC catsuits or high heels.

She tried to concentrate on her freedom. However, the creaking of the PVC with her struggles, feeling how it slid on the small carpet, her extreme arms position, the very fact that she would not get out of it, plus that crotch rope with the fucking knots was making her go nuts (yeah, pun intended!).

She squirmed her legs, feeling the heels on her foot and also feeling them easily slide on the carpet. Damn, that PVC thing was slippery, but at the same time, sticky with the rope. What a weird fabric, she thought.

The more she struggled, the more the knots were arousing her.

“Must not orgasm, must not orgasm,” she kept repeating herself. But it was like eating your favorite dessert and trying to control yourself to eat only one spoonful… Oh, just another one. Just another one. Just another… and the first thing you know is that you ate it all.

Well, her teasing went along the same way. “Just a little bit more and I’ll stop before orgasming,” she was repeating in her mind. “just a little bit more. One more stroke. That should do it… Oh, just one more. Uh… just anotheeeeeeer!!!”

And it was too late. She let out a growl that couldn’t be mistaken.

By that time, Lynda was sitting on the sofa and she watched Karen living her orgasm as if there was no one else around her, enjoying every stroke of her hips, every teasing moment of the knot, every last drop of pleasure hormone rushing through her body.

She only realized that Lynda had been watching, and thus is fully aware of what happened, when she felt her legs being folded backward and a rope attached from the chest harness to her ankles, pulling her chest up toward her ankles in a very back arched hogtie.

“Oooo! Shit!” said Karen.

“You can’t complain. I warned you.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t a hogtie. How the fuck do you expect me to get out of this?”

“That’s the point, Karen. I don’t WANT you to get out of it. It’s your punishment for not obeying my command.”

Command. Punishment. It was the first time those words were used. Even Lynda wasn’t sure about what she had just said. It just came out that way. Karen was puzzled by those same words and, somehow, she knew that Lynda was right. And she also knew that she deserved that… punishment. After all, it was the best way to train her to NOT orgasm in front of a crowd. Yeah, that should teach her.

“But… you didn’t need to go to that extreme, you know?” she said, wiggling, trying to move her arms but being denied to by the tight ropes. “Besides… uh… what are you doing?” she asked as she witnessed Lynda unpacking a brand new bath sponge ball and picking up a roll of duct tape.

“Valerie told me that this is a lot more efficient than a scarf gag. Open up!” she ordered.

“Open up? No, wait. This is out of the quegkjggfffmmghg!”

Karen fought it but she couldn’t move much. Lynda stuffed the sponge inside Karen’s mouth and capped it using 1, 2…3… 4… FIVE pieces of duct tape, pretty much covering her whole face, from the top of her nose to below her chin, locking it in place and keeping that sponge deeply inside. She moaned.

“Yeah. Just a moan is acceptable, but keep it down, I have to study,” said Lynda, sitting on the sofa and picking up her computer.

Karen stared at her, waiting for her to laugh, to tell that it was just a joke, to free her but Lynda seemed to completely ignore her. Karen moaned again. Louder.

Lynda got up and picked up more sponges but smaller and the duct tape again, as well as a nylon stocking. She pulled the nylon sock over Karen’s head then, stretching back the sock, she inserted one sponge over each eye and one over each ear, and then wrapped the top of her head in duct tape, even going down to include her mouth, her jaw, and back on top of her head. In no time, Karen’s head was fully wrapped in duct tape, silenced, deaf, and blindfolded.

It was simply overwhelming! The pressure around her head was immense. Breathing was difficult as she could only do it through her nose, passing through the nylon stocking. She could only hear the sound of her beating heart through her head and as she moved, as she struggled, she discovered that the crotch rope was even more… arousing!

Fuck! What the hell was going on in her mind? The more she struggled, the more she liked it, the hornier she became, the more she struggled. Damn! Isn’t there any way out of this perverted loop?

Hearing Karen’s moans, hearing the PVC creaks as she struggled, took Lynda out of her studies. She just sat there, watching the purple worm fight her bondage and obviously, liking every second of it. It was obvious that she was heading for another orgasm. Not exactly a punishment, but how to stop it? For a moment she admires how the light reflected out of the shiny purple catsuit, how Karen struggled in her bondage. She could see the muscles strain, working as she tried to get free, or rather build another orgasm. And looking at her head, tightly wrapped in grey tape was simply a wonderful sight, thinking about what she could be going through, and especially how she, Lynda, had total control over her. She could keep her like that for as long as she wanted. Or…

With a devilish smile, she kneeled by Karen.

Karen suddenly felt hands on her left shoulder and hip and she was quickly flipped to her right side, removing any pressure from her crotch rope.

“Fuck!! No! Put me back!” she tried to scream through her gagged mouth, but nothing more than a grunt came out.

Lynda took a pair of safety scissors and removed the crotch rope, allowing Karen to roll back on her stomach.

Karen searched for the knots, the rope but… nothing. Trying as she might, although this was arousing, she knew she would not orgasm. And as everything became silent, she realized that this was heading to be a long, restless night.

She was dozing on and off. The tie was tough. Her shoulders were aching, her arms were getting numb. Her head was pounding. That headwrap was very tight. Her jaw was aching from the stretch. Yet, in her mind, she was seeing images of women tied up, suspended, wrapped. Where were those coming from? From some obscure area of her memory? She vaguely had seen them before, in magazines, on the Internet, on TV, but… why was she finding them arousing? Why did she want to… try them all?

Suddenly, she felt her legs being released. She moaned as her legs were gently put down and her weight rested on her chest.

Already the morning? Well, it had been a long night. She would probably call in sick. She was so tired and aching from everywhere.

Her arms were released. They hurt as Lynda moved them out of their extreme position. She flexed them as her legs were released. Her head was still encased in the tape wrap. She felt it with her hands. It was so smooth, so tight, so… No, it couldn’t be arousing. She wanted to get out.

She felt something cold, some steel rod, being pressed between her skin and the nylon stocking. Gradually, the head wrap loosened, being opened by the pair of safety scissors Lynda was using.

Her eyes were freed and she blinked, but… it was dark. What time was it? What’s going on?

She didn’t need to ask as Lynda pulled the soaked sponge out of her mouth.

“It’s past midnight. I’m not about to leave you like that longer. For once, we never agreed on it and for two, I could hurt you really bad. I don’t have Valerie’s experience in tying someone up. Your arms were about to turn blue. Take your time. If you need anything, just tell me.

“N… No. I’m fine… I think,” mumbled Karen, half there, half still dreaming about those images of women tied up.

Her arms, her legs were hurting as she tried to get up. She finally crawled to her bed, climbed on it, and fell asleep.

She woke some time later. It felt weird. It was as if she was missing something. Oh, yeah, she was still in her PVC catsuit. Maybe she should take it off, but… it felt so good. Why take it off? She liked it in there.

But something was missing. She turned to one side, then to the other. Nope, something was missing but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She twisted and turned, trying to find sleep but she was just wide awake.

Then she spotted them, on her night table. No, come on. It couldn’t be. She sat, realizing that she was also still wearing her high heel shoes. She extended her hand to grab the coil of rope and the police handcuffs.

Eyes closed, as if not to miss any second of sleep, she expertly tied her ankles together. She had done it so often, she didn’t need to see what she was doing.

She lay on her side and put her hands on her back, expertly working the handcuffs.

Click! Click!

There, she was tied up for the night.

Sleep went fast and easy. What the f…?

Her alarm clock woke her up. Half dreaming she was still bound in the living room, it took her some time to realize that she was in her bedroom, handcuffed. It took her some time to remember that she did it herself and where she put the keys.

About twenty minutes later, she walked out of her bedroom sporting a long bathrobe, hiding the rope marks and the seam marks left by the tight PVC catsuit. She headed for a much-needed shower and came out after it, much refreshed.

She was expecting to see Lynda but she wasn’t there, her room door opened. She noticed a note left on the dining room table.

She read it:

“Hello, Karen. I hope you don’t hold a grudge about last evening/night as I might have gone a little too far. Okay, way too far. Tying you up like I did and forcing you to spend the night like that was not okay on my part, and for that I’m sorry. I’m still learning that Dominant/submissive stuff and I’m not sure I do it right.”

“Dominant/submissive stuff? What the hell is she talking about?” said Karen as if she was talking to the note. “I wanted to be tied up. You gave me a challenge and I failed. I deserved that pun… oh…” she said, trailing off. She continued.

“I’ll be staying with a friend for the next couple of days. I think I, and perhaps yourself, need some time out to make the point, think about what all this means. I’ll be at our regular club on Friday evening around 22:00. I hope to see you there. Come give me a hug if you want us to continue that path of discovery, or just a wave if you prefer us to part ways. If you choose the second option, I’ll have my stuff out within the week. Love, – Lynda.”

Karen re-read the note a few more times, hands shaking. What the hell was going on? Would a simple exercise, a simple escape challenge bring their fifteen-year relationship to an end?

Working was difficult. Her mind was elsewhere. It was with Lynda. It was with the ropes in the living room. It was in that fetish store. it was everywhere except on the work at hand. Early afternoon, she went to her boss, stating that she wasn’t feeling too well, she asked to take the rest of the day off.

“Yeah, I could tell something was bothering you. You seemed… absent. Care to talk about it?” he asked.

“Me and Lynda had… well…”

“Say no more, not my business. I just hope everything will turn out fine. Go home, take your time. You’re no use here if you can’t concentrate on your work,” he said with an understanding smile.

Karen thanked him and she walked out. She was getting to her bus stop. The bus was coming. She began to run and then she stopped. The driver was looking at her, waiting.

She nodded ‘no’ and turned to walk one block up, to the fetish store.

With a firm gesture, she pushed the door open until she hit the stoppers, making Sandra jump.

“Oh, gosh! you startled me. Are you alright?” asked Sandra.

Karen froze for a moment. Sandra was there, in front of her, standing on pointed boots, her body sealed in a bright red rubber catsuit, her waist crushed by a red leather corset and her gleaming chastity belt worn on the outside in full view.

“That!” firmly said Karen, pointing to the belt. “Tell me about it. All about it!”

“Rubber slave Karen at your service, Mistress Lynda,” said Karen, making a small bow.

Part III

“What the heck is that?” finally asked Lynda after the initial shock.

“It’s a new suit I bought. I hope Mistress likes it. It came with toys but only Mistress could decide if I am worthy of wearing them or not,” said Karen, still looking at the floor.

“But… Karen…” stuttered Lynda, which made Karen look up. Was there something wrong? Was she with someone and she should have kept hidden?

But no, she was alone and was making such a stunned face that Karen couldn’t repress from laughing.

“Damn! You should see your face…” Then quickly realizing what she had just said and done, she quickly lowered her head and added a faint “Mistress…” to her phrase.

Lynda giggled.

“Yeah, I bet I’m making a funny face. How? Why?… Oh, speak normally for fuck’s sake!”

Karen raised her head, smiling.

“Since the first time I put on the PVC catsuit I wanted to try latex. I’ve been looking at images and it was so arousing, I wanted to get one.

“But, those things are expensive,” said Lynda as she approached to touch it, “And this one is quite thick, and the corset, and the new boots and the hood! This must have cost a fortune. Where did you get the money?”

“I used the money saved for the cruise,” said Karen.

“But… why the hell did you do that? You’ve been saving for that cruise for three years! What are you gonna do? You can’t cancel life plans like that for… for… for a fantasy.”

“Oh, it’s more than a fantasy, Lynda. Besides, going on the cruise would have meant to be two weeks without wearing my catsuit or being restrained. That would have been so… boring.”

“But… It’s not…”

“Do not worry, Lynda. The decision has been thought of and analyzed carefully. I am at peace with my decision and I really enjoy wearing this more than going on a cruise.

“I’ll be damn,” said Lynda, walking around Karen to look at everything. “That corset isn’t fully closed.”

“Yes, I know… Mistress. I was unable to fully close it on my own.”

“Let’s fix that,” she said as she took her keys, removed the chastity belt and untied the corset lacing.

She put her knee on the small of Karen’s back and began to pull on the lacing. Karen let out a few “oofs” as the corset tightened. She began to have doubts: this thing will cut me in half, she thought as her waist was crushed again and again.

“Almost there,” said Lynda, giving a few strong yanks. For Karen, it was like she had taken half her waist off, but in reality, it was merely one centimeter.

Karen was panting, her breathing reduced to short gasps. Her eyes were wide as she rubbed her newly acquired thin waist. Lynda wrapped the chastity belt to take measurements then changed its adjustment for a tight fit over the corset. She fastened the waistband over Karen’s corset then took the toys Karen was still holding.

“Those are… battery operated?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress. Through your phone. You just have to install the app. They are fully charged and ready, Mistress.”

“I have to see that,” said Lynda, kneeling and stuffing the toys inside Karen, discovering at the same time the panties. “Panties with sheaths? Clever,” she said gently yet firmly pushing the toys in, even playing with them a little, pulling them in and out a few times, making Karen moan and squirm. She then closed the crotch strap of the chastity belt, pushing the toys deeper.

She got up and looked at Karen and the new panel gag which was hiding a huge silicone penis. She took it and pushed it deeply inside Karen’s mouth, making her gag.

“You chose it, you live with it!” coldly said Lynda, locking the gag in place, Karen already struggling with it.

She took chains and quickly forced Karen to hobble, linking her elbows in her back with a long chain and her wrists in front but adding one chain from her collar to her wrists, forcing her to bend down to reach anything on the kitchen counter, which was rendered more difficult, thanks to her rigid corset.

Karen realized her predicament. She loved it.

“I want lemon-butter chicken scallopinis, vegetables, and a garden salad. You have one hour.”

Karen froze for a moment. That recipe, just the chicken, takes half an hour when all the ingredients are ready. With all the trimmings, it could be made within an hour. By a “normal” person. She was tied up! And she was so hot and horny!!

After 90 minutes, she hobbled her way to the living room to invite Lynda to the table. She was panting, had a thick layer of sweat between her rubber skin and her real skin, she was hot, horny and hungry. Lynda took place and Karen struggled to put her plate down without spilling anything.

Lynda took a bite and slowly chewed it while Karen was waiting standing up just behind her chair, a little to the right.

After what seemed an eternity, Lynda approved.

“That’s good. You may sit,” she coldly said.

Karen put her own plate at her place and then sat, waiting. Well, she was gagged.

Lynda slowly ate, making Karen wait to eat. When her plate was half done, she reached over and removed Karen’s gag, not adding a word. Karen was still waiting. She had not received the permission to eat. Only once her plate was almost done, and Karen’s plate almost cold, did she give her permission to eat.

“That’s for being half an hour late,” said Lynda

She waited for Karen to struggle to take one bite.

“My glass of wine is empty. You should have noticed it before sitting down,” said Lynda.

Karen struggled to get back up and poured Lynda more wine before sitting back at her plate, making a very low growl. After all, she DID check on Lynda’s wine before she sat, but that was 20 minutes ago!

“I heard that,” said Lynda, responding to Karen’s grunt.

Karen had to stop once again to serve Mistress Lynda her dessert and some tea, then, as soon as Karen had taken her last bite of dessert, the gag was put back on and she had to clean the table, wash the dishes, etc. By the time she was done, she was exhausted, swearing like a pig, and horny as hell, the toys having teased her all this time. She walked to the living room, ready to serve her Mistress but hoping for a break.

“Hum… okay… how does this thing work?” she said as she browsed on her phone. “Ah, there!”

Karen twitched and immediately tried to reach her crotch but her wrists-to-neck chains prevented it. Her knees were failing her and she gently kneeled on the ground, moaning. Oh yes, that was good, very good, awesomely go… she stared at Lynda who was smiling. Her toys were silent.

“Better keep the batteries for the evening.”

Evening? She couldn’t go out like that, not with their group of friends, and although she was sweating a lot, she liked her rubber skin and wasn’t eager to take it off so soon. Lynda read the question marks on Karen’s eyes and giggled.

Without offering any answer, she changed Karen’s setup, linking her arms wrists and elbows in her back.

“There is more than one club in this town,” she said as she reached for the entrance closet, picking a very long cloak. “Come on! It will be fun!”

Part IV

She put the long cloak over Karen’s shoulder and placed the large hood over her face. Of course, anybody looking would see her head covered in latex, but the rest of her setup was hidden. Sort of.

Lynda snapped a leash on her collar, opened the exit door and gave a tug on it. Karen resisted, nodding no.

“The more you make it obvious, the more people will notice. Anyways, nobody can tell who you are. COME!”, she said in a very commanding tone.

Karen complied. Accepting her fate was strange. It was as if she was abandoning herself to Lynda. Whatever happened, was Lynda’s… fault.

She followed, hobbling along. Just the noise of the chains was attracting attention. Hopefully, there would be no one else in the corridor.

They reached the elevator. Karen’s heart was pounding hard. All she could hear was the rush of blood inside her head. She kept repeating to herself “Nobody else. Nobody else.”

Her wishes were granted. Nobody else entered the elevator but four people were waiting on the ground floor! They were all stunned by the sight. Lynda didn’t mind. She knew she was not the one being looked at, so in the end, people would not notice it was Lynda and… whoever was that.

They reached the street. A car was apparently waiting for them. Lynda opened the back door and helped Karen settle in. Her seat belt was fixed and tied in a weird way: there was no play! And more, her ankles were linked to a ring on the floor. What kind of shared ride was that?

She noticed that the driver was wearing a latex chauffeur suit. His face was surprisingly shiny, as if he was wearing some kind of very life-like mask. He kept in his place, looking forward, not offering any help, then after Lynda got in beside Karen from the other side, he drove off, without asking for the destination.

“He’s gagged under his mask and his chastity belt is locked to his seat. He can’t get out,” said Lynda as to answer Karen’s silent question, helping her relax. This was… familiar territory.

They didn’t drive downtown as Karen expected but to the edge of town, stopping in front of a church. Lynda took her phone and punched for some time. The chauffeur seemed to squirm in his seat. “He has plugs, vibrators as well as tens units on. We rate the ride with… pleasure or pain,” said Lynda with a devilish smile Karen had never seen before.

She then untied Karen from the car seat and pulled on her leash leading to the long stairs leading for the church’s door.

Karen was reluctant. A church was not the place for someone clad in latex. She struggled to climb the stairs, her legs greatly impaired. Her progress was slow, getting one step at a time. A few times, Lynda pulled on the leash, hinting her to go faster. She tried the best she could.

Finally, they reached the large doors and they entered. Karen was shocked. This was no longer a church, at least, not a religious one.

They entered and Lynda removed Karen’s cloak before looking around as if searching for someone. It was followed by a strong pull on Karen’s leash as she headed for a woman in full leather, looking very… dominatrix.

“Hello, Mistress Valerie. This is Karen,” she said, not even gesturing to her.

Mistress Valerie looked at Karen from head to toe.

“Nice. You can fetch a good price for her.”

“Huh? Price. I’m not for sale!” tried to say Karen, but thanks to her panel gag, nothing much came out.

“Thank you, Mistress Valerie,” said Lynda, smiling giving a tug at Karen’s leash to follow, but she resisted.

Lynda gave a much stronger pull, forcing Karen to stumble forward, finding her balance back but she was resisting.

“You have no say in what I decide, you signed the contract. You even wrote it!.”

Karen was shocked. Yes, she did. She knew it very well as she had read it carefully and… Lynda was right. As she never put anything about ownership, she could even be sold but… that was not her goal. She wanted to stay with Lynda, not be sold on the first occasion.

“I believe a good thinking session is needed to settle you into your place,” said Lynda, leading Karen to a strange-looking circle with a lot of hanging leather straps.

A very well-built man wearing nothing else than a leather harness that had Karen’s heart meltdown welcomed them. The links on Karen’s arms and legs were removed and she was guided on the circle, spreading her legs on footholds 20cm off the floor. Then the strapping began.

There were straps everywhere. From her toes to her fingers: toes, ankles calf, below the knee, upper knee, mid-thigh, thigh, hips, waist, breast harness, shoulder, upper arm, lower arm, wrists, neck, forehead, she was literally covered in leather straps. very tight leather straps that man was using all his strengths to pull tight. She was held secured to that wheel and she couldn’t move a fingernail!

“It will be better if you don’t know what’s going on,” said Lynda adding a blindfold and industrial ear muffs on her head.

That was it. Karen’s world was now limited to her head and what she was feeling. Trying to struggle, to squirm, told her head that there was no way out of this. Every little muscle pull was telling her she couldn’t move. Every little twitch made her feel the numerous leather straps holding her to that circular thing. She heard her heavy breathing. She heard her heart pounding in her head. And she felt… something.

It was like worms touching her skin between the straps, and it even felt like going under them. She felt the worms touch her face, her jaw, her breasts. Then she felt as if she was falling forward. No, it was backward… Uh, no, it was to her left side. Yes, she was falling to her right. Slowly. That was weird.

Instinct had her try to break her fall but she was much too secured. She yelped. At least, her mind yelped. She realized after some time that her legs were going up at the same time. She wasn’t falling, she was being rotated. That circle thing was a wheel that was turning. She was now on her left side, still going down, slowly.

She was now head down, feeling suspended by the feet, blood rushing to her head. Damn, it felt like a long time before she felt being pulled up on the other side, rotating slowly toward the horizontal position, laying on her right, then back upright. And it didn’t stop. It went back down again, and back up. She decided to count the number of turns she was doing, about one every minute or so, but she got bored or she was buried inside her own thoughts, her own feelings of the restraints, the corset, the tightness of her thick latex skin, the huge plugs that were moving slowly with gravity, the deep gag, the blindfold. That was one hell of an experience for her first time in latex!

For a moment, she tried to figure out what she liked the most and she had to come up with the conclusion that it was all of it, and the fact that she couldn’t do anything about it. She had no way out. She had to… suffer. Can pleasure be suffering? Or suffering be pleasure?

The wheel suddenly stopped as she was upright. What? Already done? She would have kept going for much, much longer. She was a little sad, then again, there were more devices to try. She hoped.

The forehead strap was loosened and the blindfold was removed. Someone she didn’t know was standing there. It was a man wearing a tuxedo made out of latex. He was actually cute but severe looking.

“Hello there. Mistress Lynda gave me permission to play with you,” he said, showing a gasmask with a long hose, at the end of it was some sort of bottle with liquid in it. “This is called a bubbler. It is a breathing restriction device. When you breathe, you have to pull the air through that bottle which contains water. It makes the breathing hard. I think you never had any breathplay before, right?”

Karen nodded no.

“I’ll go easy first, filling the bottle only a third of it. The safeword is closing your right fist repeatedly. If you do that, I’ll get it off in a few seconds. Ready?”

Karen was puzzled and happily surprised at the same time. That would be an interesting experience and the fact that she was asked and reassured she would be monitored was great and reassuring. She nodded a clear yes.

He put the gasmask on which had blacked-out lenses, blinding her. He fastened the strap tightly around her head before applying the forehead strap again. Karen understood the breathing hard part. She had to really pull with her lungs to get air. That put her mind off her restraints, then again, it did enhance the restraints because her instinct was to pull that thing off so that she could breathe. Everything seemed to increase. Her restriction, the corset, the tightness of the suit seemed to have tightened tenfold. She couldn’t let her mind wander around. The automatic reflex of breathing wasn’t there. she HAD to do it.

And that’s where things took a weird turn. That’s when the toys in her crotch became alive, taking her mind off her breathing. It created a mess. She had to concentrate on breathing and at the same time, live the vibrations at her crotch. If she was concentrating on her crotch, she was stopping working her lungs and she would suddenly panic as she was running out of air. If she was concentrating on her breathing then she wasn’t fully appreciating the fun at her crotch.

She wanted one or the other to stop. Well, she especially wanted the bubbler to stop so she could enjoy the toys. She could use the safeword but wouldn’t doing it stop everything? She was stuck! The more she squirmed, the more she struggled, the more aroused she became, and the more aroused she became, the faster she had to breathe, and the harder it was to breathe, and…

Oh damn! It jumped from teasing to orgasm in the flick of a finger! Her body arched forward as the pleasure wave engulfed her. Her brain half blacked out as all the feelings mixed into one single huge firework explosion. She tried to open her legs, to close them, to arch her hips, to bring her arms down, to move her head but… nothing responded. Well, yes, her muscles did, everybody watching her could see them strain under her tight and shiny black skin, but the restraints just creaked under the strain, and the blubber looked like boiling off!

It was an overload of sensations. So many things were happening at the same time. The feeling of the restraints, the latex, the corset, the breathing, the high heels, the toys. THE TOYS!

Her eyes flipped backward as the orgasm reached its peak and, just before she passed out, she was sure she heard people applaud!

She was feeling dizzy, disoriented. She opened her eyes but it was black. The blindfold was still there as well as the gag going deep into her throat. She could breathe easily. Well, sort of, her ribcage still confined by the corset. But at least, she wasn’t coping with the bubbler anymore. That was a relief.

She was also hearing sounds, people talking, music, but it was very low, muffled. Something was blocking her hearing. She tried to move. She was evidently restrained and this slight move awakened the pleasure she apparently still had in her crotch.

She moaned. At least, she was no longer on the wheel. Well, she wasn’t up, or down or sideways. She was resting on her back, but her arms were tied crossed on her chest. She couldn’t move them much. Getting up was out of the question. A strap was holding her head down and more straps over her shoulders were holding her very much on… on… whatever she was. Her legs were slightly apart, but individually tied with what felt like leather straps at the ankles, knees and upper thighs.

Nope, she couldn’t move much, but just enough to feel the toys tease her. She moaned. Louder.

She heard a soft electronic sound in her ear and the soft voice of a woman.

“Audio On…”

Huh?

“Do you hear me, Karen?” said Lynda’s voice over louder chatting and music. She was evidently wearing some sort of Bluetooth earphones.

She nodded yes. She felt her head didn’t move much but apparently that was enough.

“Good. We took your hood off while you were unconscious and Master Paul gave me those wonderful Bluetooth earplugs you’re wearing. Neat, right?”

Karen nodded.

“Just to tell you that you gave us quite a show half an hour ago.”

Half an hour? She had been out for half an hour? And they put the hood and gag and tied her up? That sounded quite unsafe.

“Those earplugs monitor your heartbeat as well as your blood oxygen. Basically, I have your health status on my phone, that’s why we took the liberty to set you up again. You’re wearing a latex straight jacket and are tied to a bondage bench.”

Karen wiggled a little and tried harder to get free.

“Try all you might, Karen, there’s no escape. I’ll let you rest there a little before… using you again,” she said with a devilish smile, cutting the communication.

Karen moaned and tried to escape. She wanted to get free. She had had her orgasm, now she wanted to party like everybody else. She moaned loudly but… but… she liked being restrained. She wanted to get out of her bondage, yet stay into it. What a weird thought.

Of course, that thought aroused her. Darn. She squirmed, trying to get some pleasure out of her restriction and toys, but it only teased her. But what a teasing that was.

In the room, Karen’s bondage table was located near the bar, where Lynda and many other oms were seated. Some slaves were kneeling by their mistresses or standing up behind them, ready to obey the slightest command. Valerie was there with two slaves: a man and a woman. Lynda had her back on Karen while talking to her.

“Apparently, she’s having fun,” said Valerie, nodding toward the bondage table.

Karen could be seen, slowly squirming. Not trying to escape, but just feeling the restraints, engulfing herself into the bondage.

“Yes, she likes being tied up. Just that is enough to arouse her. She could tease herself for hours like that, but I know she couldn’t orgasm.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” said Valerie. “Those bondage freaks are very resourceful.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yes, trust me. She will find a way to reach orgasm. Those bondage fetishists are the most difficult to control because any restriction is a pleasure. And they see everything as a restriction.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lynda.

“High heels: they restrict walking. Tight clothes: restrict movements of the legs. Corsets restrict breathing. Gloves restrict the touch. Hell, for some, eyeglasses restrict sight and are arousing!”

“Oh shit! You mean that, when she goes to work and puts on tight jeans, high heels, a tight jacket…”

“She’s arousing herself all day long! She just loves it.”

“But… I thought it was just…”

“For what, Lynda? Why would someone torture themselves with high heels, impair their movements and even breathing with very tight jeans, or wear gloves all the time? Pleasure, dear Mistress Lynda. Pleasure. And she’s having a ball there!”

They looked at that shiny black body, slowly squirming, reflecting the colored lights of the club.

“So. What should I do? How do you… dominate someone like that?”

“That’s easy: they will do anything to get tied up, restrained. The worst punishment I had one of my slaves receive, according to her, was when I had her in a simple summer dress. No chastity belt, no cuffs. Plain cotton underwear, thong sandals and a sundress to go to a family reunion. She found that day totally excruciating.

“But if that was a family reunion, she couldn’t have gone there in full fetish gear, right? Unless her family is aware of her kinks.”

“No, they weren’t. But she had planned to put on a corset, latex underwear, her chastity belt with toys and high heels. She would have had to be very careful not to reveal anything and she would have had a blast. But she misbehaved the day before so.

“I will have to remember that,” she said, looking again at the squirming black latex body on the bondage table.

“But this is no time for punishment. In fact, it’s the best time for the opposite.”

Lynda looked puzzled.

“Give her all! Make her have all the orgasms she can have. Let her have the best night of her life even if she spends half the time unconscious from the orgasmic shocks. Let her blow her mind out. Do this for a few days, even for a week or two and then, one day… Nothing.”

Lynda smiled. She understood.

“You’ll have her eating out of your hand by the end of that day. She will be willing to do anything just to get a little bit of restraints, of pleasure, of teasing. Allow her just the high heels, for example. She will know what she could get, how far she could go into her orgasmic pleasure. She will be addicted, and you will control her.”

“How will I ever be able to repay you, Mistress Valerie?” asked Lynda.

“Just loan her to me for one weekend in a month or two, when she will be well-trained and addicted to the kinky orgasms.”

“Will do, Mistress Valerie. Will do,” said Lynda, picking up her phone and calling up the toy app.

Part V

She could barely walk. She could barely think. Oh, she was thinking of one thing: getting into her bed and sleeping it off!

That had been a very intense weekend. First, that surprise evening of bondage where she was tied to different devices until she was too weak to even kneel, then spending Saturday, at home, severely restrained, having to do all the chores: cleaning the house, washing the clothes, the dishes, making the beds, preparing meals, etc. Every muscle of her body was aching and every cell of her body was enjoying it.

For the first time in 48 hours, she was free. Sort of. She still had to take the latex catsuit off, and she knew she needed help.

She was standing up, balancing on her feet because, although she didn’t have any shoes, she was still standing on her toes, putting her feet down being painful. The latex hood was removed revealing a reddish wrinkly face and filthy hair. Lynda grabbed the collar of the suit and pulled it over her shoulder, again revealing very reddish and wrinkly skin. she grinned and turned her head away.

“Oooof. Smelly!! I guess 48 hours is the maximum amount of time you can wear that suit,” said Lynda.

“Yeah, I guess so. Too bad, I liked it in there,” said Karen as she looked at her arms while gently rubbing them. “There must be a way to keep it longer.”

“I don’t think so. Mistress Valerie warned me about it. It has nothing to do with latex but the lack of air on the skin. One can keep it longer but it will damage the epidermis,” said Lynda. “Go take a nice shower. I allow you to wear a simple pajamas or a bathrobe,” she said, still acting Dominant.

“Oh, no need, I’ll put on my spandex leotard and my leggings for the night.”

Lynda looked down at her.

“Uh… if… if Mistress allows it, of course,” said Karen realizing that she had taken a decision instead of blindly following Lynda’s command.

“That is acceptable. But you will no longer take the decision, and I have apparently to remind you who’s in charge.”

“Oh, yes, Mistress. I need to be reminded who’s in charge,” said Karen with a smirk.

Of course, she was hoping to be… punished: tied up and confined, perhaps even some breath control, or who knows, even a little spanking. Lynda also smiled with a smirk.

“No high heels, no tight clothes, no latex, no spandex for three days. Only loose cotton clothes. And you will wear your belt with nothing, to make sure you won’t tease yourself. And you’re not getting restrained at all during that period, not even in bed.”

Karen’s eyes widened so large that Lynda thought her eyeballs would fall off, and her mouth flapped like a fish out of the water. She was realizing what a real punishment was.

She didn’t sleep well. She kept turning and turning, looking for the feeling of the restraints. At work, people noticed the sudden extreme change of clothing and asked her if she had reverted to her old self.

On the fourth day, she was back to her new self: Very tight jeans, spiky heels, black stretch cotton leotard and a very tight leather jacket. Again, at work, people looked at her puzzled. Some asked, some didn’t but they all had questions.

At home, she was quickly back into her cuffs and hobble chains as soon as she entered the house. She put on her latex catsuit a few times, admiring her shiny legs while watching the TV, amazed at the reflection of the image on the reflective surface, but since she needed help taking it off it became an inconvenience.

“Too bad I have to take it off every morning during the week,” said Karen, peeling herself off of her suit after Lynda gave her the first help.

“Nothing prevents you from wearing it all day long.”

“Well, yes: the work dress code,” said Karen, sighing.

“On cold days, you can hide it under bulkier clothes or even under tight jeans and tight turtleneck shirts. Nobody would notice.

“Yes, that’s an idea but I still have the duration problem, that it can’t be worn for more than 36 to 48 hours. I wish there was a way.

“Well, do a little research, there might be a latex or something very similar that could be worn for many days.”

“Do you think I didn’t already do that? Of course, I did, and I came up empty-handed. Yes, on some fantasy stories I read, there is that magical drug, even one that makes the person dependent on wearing latex, but it’s just fantasy writing.” said Karen.

“Well, Karen. You work for a bio firm. Figure it out!”

“Yeah, right,” she answered. “I am an accountant in a biochemistry research lab. I have no biology training,” she said, frowning.

“Well, ask around. Who knows what answer you can find.”

She went to work. The thought of having some sort of pill or vaccine that could allow long-term wear of latex was always on her mind. The fact that she was wearing latex underwear might have helped.

The occasion kind of presented itself. In a meeting, one of the lab technicians, Jennifer, seemed to have some problems with her sweating. Large wet patches could be seen on her armpits. She seemed to be very aware of it and was trying to hide it. At the end of the meeting, she happened to pass by Karen.

“I have some antiperspirant in my purse if you need it. It’s brand new,” she whispered as she walked past her.

Jennifer simply looked at her, like pissed off, and walked on.

“Oh well, her problem,” said Karen, not thinking about it any further.

At lunch, Karen was sitting with all her co-workers from the accounting department. At the end of the meal, they were all preparing to leave when Jennifer took the place facing Karen and sort of told her to stay put with a simple look. Karen complied.

“I’m really sorry if I shocked you earlier… ” began to say, Karen.

“No, I should be the one apologizing for my behavior. The thing is that I’m working on antiperspirant produce and I sort of test them on myself. Sometimes the results are encouraging and sometimes…”

“It goes the other way around,” giggled Karen, pointing at her still-damp armpits with a gesture of her chin.

“Yeah, like that. I never sweat like that in my life!”

“But… isn’t that illegal? I mean, against the rules to test it on humans before all the proper lab tests?”

“Well, it’s my personal research and I’m using myself as the guinea pig, so… They can’t do anything about it.”

“But… why?

Jennifer took a long deep breath and looked left and right before leaning forward.

“I know your secret.”

Karen frowned.

“I don’t know what secret you’re talking about and I don’t know what my private life, assuming that I have that secret, is of any concern for your self-testing of antiperspirant products,” said Karen, suddenly more nervous. Would she start blackmailing Karen for… for what?Liking being tied up?

Jennifer smiled.

“Clever way out,” she said with a grin. “Seriously, we saw each other. Well, I’m pretty sure that it was you as you changed your… dress code at about the same time and, your mannerisms, the way you walk and your voice are all, I should say, trademarks that make each individual, well… individuals.”

“I’m still not following you,” said Karen.

“At the Church Club. You are relatively new and regularly tied to the wheel and obviously having a ball.”

Karen stared at her, not moving. Waiting for more.

“The woman in the pewter latex catsuit, black corset, ballet boots and black motorcycle helmet with cat’s ears.”

Karen’s eyes widened.

“Yes, that’s me,” said Jennifer, getting her voice to a very faint whisper. “So, I know your secret and now, you know mine, and… you can probably figure out why I’m working on antiperspirants and trying them on myself.”

“Oh my gosh! You?…. I… Oh my!” was stuttering Karen, literally out of words.

“So, you keep it to yourself and… yes, I would gladly use your antiperspirant, if you still have it” she added, smiling.

Karen reached for her purse, handed over the little travel-size tube but held it firmly as Jennifer grabbed it.

“I want to be in your testing. My dream is wearing latex 24/7”.

“I… No. It’s too risky.”

“I don’t care. If I can help, I will.”

“Uh… okay then.”

“Deal!” said Karen, releasing the tube, getting up and walking away, humming.

“You WHAT?”

“I volunteered to test her products.”

“Are you out of your damn mind?” harshly said Lynda. “Do you understand the risks? You can become, I don’t know, allergic or something, or worse, having your skin scarred, or… or… or…”

“Relax, Lynda. It’s not like that. She knows what she’s doing and she’s not going out on a limb. She already did a lot of research. Yes, she had some drawbacks but that’s normal in any research. I mean, she’s testing it on herself. SHE wants to find a way to stay in latex for prolonged periods. I’m sure she doesn’t want to scar her skin or go bald or become… I don’t know, allergic to the sun or something.”

Lynda sighed.

“Or worse: allergic to latex. Okay, I understand, but still, it makes me nervous. Be careful.”

“I will. I promise.”

Things went on. She was now having lunch with Valerie every day. She even bought a few more latex items: leggings, a leotard, a blouse, a dress and a shirt. On the “Casual Fridays”, she was already regularly wearing faux-leather leggings. Why not wear latex leggings, right? First, under a nice mid-thigh straight dress. Of course, people noticed and asked her questions. Some were puzzled, others intrigued and others almost secretly approving. She wore them more and more, sometimes with a skirt, sometimes with a shirt. Sometimes, it was just her latex leotard mixed with stretched jeans. And a dress is a dress, latex or not. And she was allowed a dress as part of her business outfits.

Karen happily showed to one complaining coworker that nowhere in the book of policies, it was stated what fabric the dress should be made out of. Of course, H.R. replied with an addendum.

Only natural fibers are allowed.

That didn’t go well. It meant that it banned polyester, rayon and other petroleum-derived fabrics. But Karen went in with her latex skirt and leggings and a cotton blouse.

She was called into H.R.

“I’m sorry, Karen, but this is unacceptable. You have been quite… novel in your choice of clothing for Casual Fridays, and now this on regular work hours, but this is just too much. We clearly stated that only natural fibers were allowed. Rubber is not, so you will go home for the rest of the day, unpaid of course.”

Karen smiled.

“You do know that this is latex, right? Latex comes from a tree, right? Actually called the Rubber Tree, right? This is basically tree sap. This is 100% natural. According to the rules, I’m fully allowed to wear this. Also, it has been stated countless times: we never meet clients. We have no need to wear business suits.”

“That’s not the point, Karen. You will go home and change.”

“Then you will pay my time because this is NATURAL. You don’t want me to wear latex, that’s all. Just say it.”

“I… Listen,” she said, looking left and right and leaning forward. “I honestly don’t care. If we could come to work in sweatpants I would be the first, but this… latex thing, well, it makes some people… uncomfortable. Personally, I don’t see any problem and it’s sexy as hell but some suits don’t share my views. Just go home and change.”

“I am fully dressed. Apart from part of my arms and my head, there’s no inappropriate skin showing. I am not breaking the rules. I’m staying.”

She was standing her ground. She had the freedom to choose any fabric she liked. Leather was accepted, so why not latex?

The H.R. lady sighed.

“Very well, Karen. Carry on.”

She walked back to her cubicle. Less than fifteen minutes later, she was called back into the H.R. office.

“I am sorry, Karen. You’re fired.”

Karen was stunned.

“And the reason?”

“This,” said the H.R. lady, gesturing at her outfit.

“I want that in writing,” said Karen, crossing her arms.

“Here it is,” said the woman, handing out a piece of paper.

“Hum… no. It says here that I am dismissed for not following the procedures. That’s not right. If I’m fired for wearing latex, I want the termination letter to state that it is because I’m wearing latex.”

“We… I can’t do that Karen…”

“Who gave the order?” asked Karen.

The woman looked straight at Karen, not responding.

Karen opened the door.

“Hey, listen everybody: I am getting fired for wearing latex. I am not leaving this building until they give me that in writing. I am not against the rules. Latex is a natural material and…”

The phone rang. The woman answered.

“Yes… yes sir… Karen, sit down, you’ll get that in writing,” said the woman with a smirk. She knew what would happen.

Part VI

“You were fired?” asked a very stunned Lynda

“Yes, apparently, wearing latex was a wrongdoing, but hey, I got that in writing,” said Karen, showing her the paper with the official laying off notice, extending her cuffed hands.

Because, of course, as soon as she got home, she hopped into her latex catsuit, hood, corset, chastity belt and cuffs, and she hobbled herself as well as tied her wrists in front of her. She was not about to let being fired dive her away from her fantasies.

“Yeah, but that can take a year or so before being heard. What are you gonna do in the meantime?”

“Well, I have some savings and I will have a two-month severance pay. I have the time to find something else. But of course, I’m not dumb. I’ll take a few days of… vacation,” said Karen, smiling.

Lynda paused for a moment.

“The hell you will,” she mumbled.

Lynda went to her room then to Karen’s room and came back with some hardware and props. She removed the hobble chain and linked her ankles directly with one padlock, adding another one over her knee cuffs. She then linked a chain in front between her neck and her knees, forcing to bend down slightly, just to be uncomfortable, and then attached Karen’s wrists to the middle of it with a short chain, allowing her to do, with great difficulty, her usual tasks of cooking meals and some of her house chores. Finally, she stuffed the penis/panel gag deep into her mouth.

“Since 48 hours is the maximum you can be without taking your latex suit off, then 48 hours it will be.

“Mfffaaphh?” managed to answer Karen, pulling on her wrists, realizing the predicament.

“Now, make me dinner,” commanded Lynda.

Wide-eyed, Karen turned to the counter. She knew there was no arguing. Well, technically yes, but she would end up even more restrained.

She really short-hobbled her way to the counter. She could barely reach the middle of it. Getting to the cabinets on top of it was simply impossible. She had access to the mid-lower part of the fridge. To lean forward more, she had to bend lower, but bending lower meant moving her center of gravity forward, and with her high heels, the forward/backward balance was difficult to maintain. The toys in her crotch were not helping. At all!

She fell forward in the fridge, stopping the movement by grabbing the side wall with her right elbow. She managed to grab the head of lettuce, the only item within her reach. Now she had to pull out of the fridge. But how?

Her center of gravity already pulled her into the fridge. She had to move her butt backward. To do that, she had to bend down.

But as soon as she tried, she continued falling forward. Her face was now resting against the shelf. She was stuck. Her only way out would be to try to kneel… inside the fridge.

She tried. She struggled. She moaned, Very slowly, she managed to kneel. Okay, maybe, if she’s very careful, she could get back fully on her feet, then lean backward as she rose up to stand up. She moaned. Just the strain of her butt against the toys was very, and I mean, very disturbing. She jumped on her butt a few times, just to tease herself.

She gathered her balance. She gathered her strength. One. Two, ThreeeeeeEEEEEEeee!

Her toys became alive. She fell backward or rather rolled backward, the head of lettuce rolling away on the floor. Lynda was looking at her, her cell phone in her hand, laughing.

Karen tried to stretch her legs but it only pulled on her collar and also brought her hands down, closer to her body.

She moaned, loudly. It was strange, it was awkward, but it was damn arousing. The bondage really fueled her mind. She was trapped, half free, half tied up. She could go anywhere and at the same time, she couldn’t. She rolled on her back, knee bent, hands trying to reach her belt, or her breasts. They were both out of touch!

Damn frustrating!

The teasing increased as Lynda’s laugh became more devilish. She was enjoying seeing Karen struggle. Karen didn’t mind. Her own mind was elsewhere, in a paradise of latex and bondage. Every move reminded her she was restrained. She pulled on her collar, felt the leather straps around her knees, the restricted breath of the corset, her arms locked in their position on the neck chain, her ankles, the high heels… As the arousing built up, her mind traveled elsewhere.

She was tied up, near a field of flowers. That was strange. She could see them, she could feel the pressure of the wind. She could feel the heat of the sun, but she couldn’t feel the wind nor the sun. And those flowers, they look real but not real at the same time. She couldn’t smell them. All she was smelling was rubber. She couldn’t taste them. All she tasted was rubber. And she, of course, couldn’t touch them, her hands bound by her sides, on her chastity belt.

It was unreal and at the same time, so real. She wanted to be there. She wanted to live there. That was so arousing, so exciting!

The sky turned orange as the orgasm engulfed her, making the image disappear. She was looking at the inside of her eyelids as the toys were having fun inside her. Oh, she was sharing that fun, panting, struggling, every struggle sending back the pleasure waves of the restraints.

She screamed as her eyes rolled backward, at the same time as the toys stopped, leaving her half orgasming and half cold!

She opened her eyes and saw Lynda, leaning over her, smiling ear to ear.

“HUUHHKK HOO!!” screamed Karen through her gag.

“I heard that. Consequences,” said Lynda, suddenly losing her smile and finding her straight face.

Karen was undeterred. She wanted her orgasm. She rolled on her stomach but the short chain from her neck to her ankles forced her to almost kneel because, thanks to the knee cuffs being linked, the chain couldn’t go between her legs. She couldn’t bang her belt on the floor, and more, her hands, locked in front of her, were in the way.

She grunted with frustration.

Lynda laughed.

“You deal with your problem. I’m having food delivered, and you’re paying.”

Half an hour later, when the delivery guy came, Karen was still struggling on the floor, unable to get up. The delivery guy saw it, his eyes bulged, his mouth opened then he looked at Lynda whose eyes were conveying a simple message: mind your own business.

He closed the door, having a last peek at the woman in latex, struggling on the floor as Lynda detected a hard-on under his pants.

She put the food on the table then helped Karen get up, but no more. She let her hobble to her chair and sit. That loosened a little her chain, allowing her to take food off the plate, but she was still gagged.

“Not a word, not a sound or it goes right back in. Understood?”

Karen nodded. The gag was removed and she ate in silence. That was frustrating as hell, and she would be like that for 48 hours? She would be a wreck in two days!

Sleeping tied like that was not easy, and even less since Lynda linked her collar and ankles to the ends of the bed. She couldn’t stretch and she couldn’t ball up either. Well, she had some slack but still.

She didn’t sleep very well but her arousal just increased.

She spent the whole day, with her list of chores, struggling to do not even three of the ten items Lynda had laid out for her.

Her punishment? Absolutely no teasing and she was tied tightly “stretched” on the bed. She had to take a half-fetal position and couldn’t move from it. AT ALL! She couldn’t roll on her back or move her legs the slightest.

“Sixteen hours to go”, she said to herself as Lynda came to free her. And she was left as is, with the leftover chores to do.

Her body was aching from the restraints, from the little movement she could have. The corset was starting to hurt, the latex felt tighter than ever, her heels seemed to feel more difficult to walk with, the silent toys were getting really annoying.

And she loved every second of it!

When Lynda came in, not a word was said. She was brought to her room, the chains removed and spread-eagled on the bed, stretched so tight that she couldn’t move at all. A blindfold was applied and her head harness linked to the headboard.

The toys were activated and Lynda left the room.

SHIT!

That was welcomed but… she wanted to squeeze her thighs together. She pulled on her bonds, feeling the tight leather cuffs bite into her skin, feeling the latex layer squeak over it. That was arousing as hell. She tried to arch her back to lift her hips. Nope! She was just sinking into the mattress with the toys relentlessly vibrating, twisting, humping, kicking, and she couldn’t do shit about it.

The orgasm came. Strong and powerful, amplified by the fact that she couldn’t move, by feeling her restraints with every slight struggle.

She screamed as the pleasure hormones ran through her body, sending shivers in successions all over it.

After what seemed like an eternity of pleasure, which still seemed too short, the orgasm subsided. But the toys were not stopping.

No, one was enough. It was powerful enough. It was… Oh gosh! YES! She wanted another one. And she welcomed it, her breathing whistling through the small nose holes of her tight latex hood. She was chewing on her gag. Her instinct, as she needed more air, was to breathe from her mouth, but the panel gag was sealing it shut, and she choked.

Shit.

That only increased the pleasure as she gasped for air before thinking of returning to breathe from her nose.

Fireworks lighted in her brain. Her eyes, very well shut and blindfolded, were seeing color patterns she never thought possible.

Her whole body seemed to disappear. The color patterns changed for a field of flowers. It was as if she had been transported elsewhere. All around her, a field of flowers. They, strangely enough, all smelled like… latex.

She could see the wind blowing, making the flowers and the trees bend back and forth. She could see the harsh sun, dimmed somewhat probably by sunglasses. She could feel the heat of the sun. She could feel the push of the wind, but that was it. She couldn’t even feel the wind in her eyes. She couldn’t smell the air.

She could only taste rubber. She could only smell rubber.

It was as if she was sealed into a different universe. Oh, sealed. Sealed in rubber.

Shit.

She loved it. She wished.

The vision, the dream, slowly faded to black as she realized that the toys were now silent. She was still breathing heavily and her heart was pounding hard, but it was getting calmer. Everything was getting calmer.

She squirmed, the bounds quickly arousing her. She tried to move her hips from side to side, feeling the tight latex, the tight corset. Yes, she would spend her life like that. If only…

She giggled. Those thoughts were weird. She was far, very far, from an escape artist. In fact, she had become the complete opposite: she wanted to BE restrained, not trying to get out.

So much so that she wasn’t relieved but rather disappointed when she felt the tight pulls on her limbs being loosened. The blindfold was removed. She saw Lynda, holding a set of keys above her.

“It’s time to get you out of it,” she simply said, letting the keyring drop on her corseted waist.

Karen grabbed them. She felt sad, as she removed her chastity belt, the corset, the gag harness, the hood, the high heels and finally, asked Lynda for help to get the tight and thick suit off.

“Forty-eight hours is really the maximum,” said Lynda as she gently caressed Karen’s wrinkly face with a grin.

“Feels weird,” said Karen.

“Yeah. Take a shower and put on a spandex catsuit. Of course, add the corset and the chastity belt and all the cuffs,” she said with a devilish smile. “You’re not getting out of restraints.”

Karen smiled. Of course.

She slowly washed herself, feeling the wrinkles on her skin, dreaming of feeling the smooth layer of latex instead.

“One day, maybe. One day,” she mumbled, thinking about Jennifer, wondering where she was at with her ‘project’.

She walked out to the kitchen, sporting a shiny light blue spandex catsuit, complete with attached gloves and a hood showing only her eyes and mouth, her feet in high heels. She had put on the restraints and locked them with the padlocks she had removed prior to getting into the shower, adding a long hobble chain and a short chain between her wrists. Rules were rules. Of course, Lynda had retrieved the keys.

“You should start job hunting,” said Lynda.

“You will have to free me for that,” said Karen, showing her outfit by spreading, somewhat, her arms.

“Yes, of course,” said Lynda, removing the restraining chains and taking one padlock and linking the zippers coming from the back of the suit and the hood, together. “There you go.”

“You can’t be serious?” asked Karen, feeling the lock at the back of her neck.

“Of course not. Go get your collar and lock it on,” added Lynda, putting one small padlock on the table.

Karen knew there was no arguing. She went and got her leather collar and wrapped it around her neck while looking in the mirror. She tied it snugly, played with it a little, then went one notch tighter. Swallowing was now difficult. She moved her head from side to side, up and down. Yes, that would do. She walked back to the kitchen and picked up the lock.

Lynda frowned and had a closer look at her collar.

Damn! I can’t even pass a fingernail there. Are you sure you want to go that tight? Once locked, there’s no turning back until this evening.

Karen reached for the buckle and snapped in the padlock. There. Done.

“Well, have a nice day,” said Lynda, walking out.

Karen was left alone. She had to go look for a job… dressed like that. Of course, nobody will take her seriously. She just has to tell Lynda she went and was turned around before reaching the receptionist’s desk, which would be about what would surely happen.

She was heading for the living room, ready to take a day of relaxation, when the door opened again.

“Oh, silly me. I forgot,” she said, walking fast to her room then back to Karen, grabbing her collar and hanging a little black box. “GPS tracker,” she added with a large victory smile, before heading out again.

Karen stood there.

Shit.

Part VII

Karen was in disbelief. There was no way Lynda was serious about having her go job hunting dressed like that. She will not be taken seriously.

But she didn’t have many choices and she needed a new job. She had bills to pay. She got on her computer and began job searching in her field of expertise. There was a lot, actually, and even some that paid better for less qualifications.

However, most required online-only applications, asking for a CV’s and answering the qualifications questions which were… already all included in the REQUIRED CV. (Honestly, why do they do that? I don’t get it… Anyways, back to the story). It could be days or weeks before they reply.

All she could do was take a screencap of the form she filled, to show Lynda she did apply. Then she had a thought: did she really want to work in the same field? Maybe a change of pace was needed. After all, no office would accept a latex-wearing employee, the proof was his former workplace.

By this time, it was lunchtime. She made herself a sandwich and she returned to the computer, staring at the screen. What else could she look for… oh, maybe. Just maybe.

She smiled and headed for the door.

The doorbell rang. A woman was putting clothes on a rack. She was wearing a very tight knee-length purple leather skirt, purple pump and a white corset top under a purple leather jacket. She turned to the door.

“Hello… there. May I help you with something?” she asked the tall woman, entering the small store. She was clad, head to toe in a shiny blue spandex catsuit, leather cuffs around her wrists, upper arm, knees and ankles, as well as a leather collar. A very tight leather collar.

“Hello Sandra, it’s me, Karen.”

“Karen? Really. What are you doing here… dressed like that… this early in the day?”

Karen recalled the latest events, up to her decision to come by.

“You came here by bus? Like that?” asked Sandra, stunned.

Karen giggled.

“Yes, and you should have seen the faces of some people! There were a couple of them, men and women, shocked but quite a few were almost drooling! And I especially recalled that elderly couple, looking at each other, obviously trying hard not to smile as the woman pinched her husband’s butt.”

“Damn! Probably kinkies…” she said, smiling. “I wore some latex on the bus but nothing that… extreme, with the cuffs and everything? You have some guts!”

“I didn’t have a choice. So… do you think…?”

“Well, I don’t know if we have an opening, Karen. I’m here most of the time and some time off would be welcome, but I’m only the employee. You would have to ask the owner for that,” she said, looking up and down at the suit. “Yes, I remember when you bought that one. I said it was too small for you, but it seems to fit fine now.”

“Oh, it’s just how I like it,” said Karen, turning around, showing how tight it was around her buns, molding them to perfection, including the glute crease, placing her finger in it. “Just perfect”.

“I can see that. So, about that job, I can’t say anything but come back tomorrow and I should have an answer,” said Sandra.

“Sure. Tomorrow, I’ll probably be in latex, tho,” said Karen, smiling even wider. “I’m in spandex because of that damn skin-needs-breathing thing.”

“Yeah, that’s a shame. Someday, maybe someone will come up with a solution. In the meantime, you can browse around… oh, yeah, right. You don’t have a job so spending on kinky stuff is out of the question. But still, do what you want,” she said, continuing to sort things and putting them on different racks.

The phone rang and Sandra went to answer it, leaving her cart with a few latex garments there. At the same time, a young couple entered, slowly, a little shy. Karen simply acknowledged them and continued her browsing.

Karen tried to ignore them. After all, when she was there the first time, the last thing was someone to watch over her. She figured that, since Sandra was still on the phone, maybe she could help her a little, which would show her she was willing to work, so she grabbed the cart and began to sort what was on it.

The couple looked at a few racks of standard, silky lingerie, slowly brushing against spandex and PVC garments, sort of furtively touching them, feeling them while ‘looking’ at the more conventional garments.

Karen chuckled. She couldn’t repress that that was exactly how she was feeling the first time she set foot in this store. The couple seemed to notice her more. They looked toward the check-out and Sandra was still on the phone, looking through catalogs, speaking to a customer. The couple was whisper-talking, holding each other’s hands, giving quick glances at the area where Karen was, where the latex, corsets and BDSM gear were located, sometimes stopping at Karen. Suddenly, the man let go of the woman’s hand and ‘crossed the line’ to the kinky section, definitively approaching Karen as she was putting a red latex dress on the rack.

“Ex… Excuse me,” said the man, his voice slightly trembling, we are… kind of new in this thing and… we were wondering if you could… well… help us.”

“But of course,” said Karen with a soft, reassuring voice. “You can ask anything. There’s nothing taboo here. Are you looking for something in particular?”

“I… we don’t know,” he said, gesturing for his girlfriend to get closer. “She’s interested in shiny stuff…”

“Must be cat genes,” she cut in giggling, obviously nervous.

“We all like shiny stuff,” answered Karen with a smile.

“… Yes… Euh… So… Latex is quite expensive and spandex isn’t as shiny, and this plastic thing looks, I dunno, cheap?” he said, pointing at a rack of PVC.

“As with everything, there are cheap and quality. Everything here is of high quality, that’s why it’s generally more expensive than those websites, but the quality is guaranteed. Take this leotard,” said Karen picking up a deep blue, shiny PVC leotard and talking about it, showing the seams, the quality of the zipper, its stretchability. “I have two like that.”

“Yes… nice…” said the woman, not so sure, touching the fabric. “Looks… stiff.”

“It softens as it warms up. Then you can pair it with a skirt like that, and… are you into high heels?

“Me? Yes. Her? Not so much.”

“Well, a lot of men wear high heels… in the privacy of their homes because… society,” said Karen with a smirk. “We have them in larger sizes. Shoes and boots,” she said, leading them to the shoe section.

The man picked a pair of high heel pumps and showed them to his girlfriend.

“And… how about… cuffs?” asked the woman, pointing at Karen’s wrist.

Karen’s face lit up.

“They have a wonderful assortment of bondage gear! Leather cuffs, steel cuffs, police cuffs, even those cute police cuffs with pink fur.”

“They look like toys,” said the woman picking them up, “Oh… they’re heavy.”

“It’s the real thing, just pink.”

Karen helped them around. In the meantime, Sandra’s phone conversation was done and as she was heading for those customers, more entered the store.

Karen helped the couple then answer the questions from a man, definitely a Dom, about ropes for Shibari, vet wrap and some other stuff.

The first couple went back to her, their hands full of PVC clothes, a corset, a set of cuffs and a collar, as well as a few magazines and books.

“Oh nice choice,” said Karen, pointing to the high heel shoe box. “For you or for Miss?”

“Oh, we have two pairs. We’re gonna learn to walk in them… together,” he said, looking at her, both smiling. “Thank you very much. Do I need your name for the register so that you get your commission or you will check us out yourself?”

“Uh, there was a misunderstanding. I do not work here.”

“But… you helped us, and you are…” said the woman glancing at Karen from head to toe.

“I am a good customer myself, and I am glad I could help. Enjoy your new gear!”

A few more customers entered. Karen helped them. Some were more heading toward her than Sandra. Well maybe her outfit helped a little.

But she was done. And it was near the end of the afternoon, so time to head back home. At least, Lynda wouldn’t find any excuses to punish her: she looked for a new job and even went out for it. She headed for the door and waved at Sandra.

“Call me if you have any news from the owner. See you some other time,” said Karen, heading for the door.

“What? Wait! Come back here,” said Sandra, almost ordering her to do so.

“Yes, Sandra. Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong? Hell, you’re a better saleslady than I am! You up-selled every customer into buying more or higher quality. You deserve THIS spot more than I do.”

“Oh… Sorry… It was not my intention to upstage you, Sandra. I don’t want your job. I was A job. I have no knowledge about managing a store, and perhaps… this helped,” she said, showing her setup.

“Yes, I know, Karen and there’s no hard feelings. I’ll talk to the owner tonight. I’ll give you news tomorrow.”

Karen went back home, all happy. At this hour, however, the bus was packed and many people brushed against her. She felt that many did that intentionally… men and women! Some even asked if she was part of some costume party or the fair or something.

“No, I just like wearing this,” was the answer, which stunned most. But not all!

She got back home and quickly added the hobble and wrist chains, as well as the gag and chastity belt, per the rules of the house, and began to prepare dinner, humming, happy.

When Lynda removed the gag, allowing her to eat, and asked her about her day, Karen was more than happy to recall her day.

“Interesting,” not even confirming that she had actually gotten out of the house. Well, she surely tracked her so she already knew.

As she was washing the dishes, there was a knock at the door. Lynda answered. A woman she didn’t know was there.

“Karen, it’s for you,” said Lynda, not hiding or announcing Karen’s predicament.

Karen turned around and hobbled to the door. The woman looked stunned.

“Mfffgh ghgmhgmmmm” she said, gesturing Lynda to remove the gag. “Thank you, Mistress. This is Jennifer, from the lab. You know? The one working on a… latex vaccine?”

“That’s not a vaccine, Karen, but… yeah. It’s funny, I was expecting you to be somewhat cuffed but in spandex?”

“Well… you could guess why. I should be back in latex tomorrow morning, if Mistress allows me. So, what can I do for you, Jennifer?”

“Could you… try those?” she said, handing her a small bottle with a few pink pills in it. “I haven’t experienced any side effects, but I couldn’t be in latex more than two days because… well… work. But I thought that, since you’re not working then, you could, maybe… and also the fact that you told me that you were willing to test them… I…”

“YES! Of course I will.” said Karen, grabbing the bottle from Jennifer’s hand. “… Oh if… of course… if Mistress allows it,” she said, turning to Lynda.

She came forward and asked a lot of questions to Jennifer, what to look for, the possible side effects, before making sure Karen was willing to test it.

“So, one pill every twelve hours, and there’s enough for… hum… five days? You want the test over five days?” asked Lynda.

“If that’s possible, but, I mean, the skin should be tested daily, ideally, twice a day.”

“We’ll do that. Thank you,” said Lynda, giving Jennifer a warm farewell.

And Karen got her reward for finding a new job. Lynda tied her on the bed, legs apart and arms by her side, tightly held with strong leather straps, feet linked to the footboard, neck held to the headboard. Then Lynda gently caressed Karen’s body over her silky spandex catsuit, running her fingers along, massaging her breasts, stuffing her fingers in her crotch, while gently kissing her through the mouth hole of the spandex hood.

They were long-time friends but they couldn’t deny their attraction for one another. Maybe it was just a platonic relationship but that Dom/sub thing brought another dimension.

Lynda opened Karen’s crotch zipper and fitted her with a double-sided dildo harness, so that they could both… ride each other.

It was the first time they were doing something like that. It was weird at first, but the pleasure, the Dom/sub situation, took over. They enjoyed it, slowly bringing each other to orgasmic levels. Well, Lynda did. She was the one stroking the two of them after all. She was leading. She was the Dominant. For a moment, she thought about pulling the dildo out of Karen and enjoying it by herself, but she felt it wasn’t fair for her. This was his reward, not a punishment.

In sync, they both orgasm at the same time, feeling very well connected. After more cuddles, Lynda removed the dildo harness and closed the zipper, put a ballgag inside Karen’s mouth as well as a blindfold and kissed her good night.

The next morning, after having breakfast, Lynda gave her one of Jennifer’s pills and set her up for the day.

“Go get into your latex catsuit and put on the full gear,” she commanded.

“The full gear?” asked Karen, shocked.

Lynda simply looked at her while frowning.

“Uh… the full gear it is,” said Karen, heading for her room.

She came back some time later in her full latex catsuit, knee-high, high-heel platform boots, corset, hood, chastity belt, cuffs and collar and a bunch of length of chains.

Lynda proceeded to tighten the corset until the ends met then locked on the chastity belt after inserting her usual toys. She looked at the items Karen had brought in.

“Where’s is your gag?”

“A gag? You’re not serious. What if Sandra calls?”

Lynda looked at her with a stern look.

“Bring the panel gag.”

Karen opened her mouth to protest but she knew better. She came back with the gag and gave it to Lynda who put it on the table.

Her wrists were linked, with very short chains, to the rings on the side of her chastity belt, and a short hobble chain was put between her ankles. Lynda then applied the panel gag, fastened it to the usual notch but instead of locking it there, she grabbed a hold of Karen’s head and pulled the strap even tighter to the next notch, making Karen moan in discomfort as the long penis-shaped gag was pulled even deeper in her mouth, almost brushing against her uvula, on the verge of triggering the gag reflex. She had learned to control it, but that was still very annoying.

“This is for talking back when I asked for the gag,” said Lynda, then grabbing the collar and pulling it tighter, almost making Karen’s breathing whistle and swallowing difficult. “And this is for talking back when I asked for the full gear.”

Karen grunted.

“One more sound and I tie your knees together.”

Karen stayed silent. Lynda applied the locks everywhere, then with a devilish smile, she kissed Karen on her gag and wiggled her fingers.

“See you later… tied up alligator,” she said, laughing while walking out the door.

Karen turned on herself a few times. Restrained like that, she couldn’t do much. Even her chore list wouldn’t go down. She could use the broom but wouldn’t be able to pick up the dirt. Maybe she could work the vacuum cleaner. Af for dusting, she was limited to mid-thigh to mid-torso as her wrist chains limited the range of movements. However, that ankle chain length was weird. Longer than usual but still impairing her movements. It was more a walking chain than a hobble one.

That tight collar was really annoying and the gag was disturbing. The struggle needed to pass the vacuum was simply arousing. She was damn hot!

She heard her phone ring. Oh well, she couldn’t answer it anyway. She hobbled her way to it and was shocked: it was the fetish store!

She struggled to pick it up after a message was left and listened to it.

“Karen? This is Sandra. Where the hell are you? I’m waiting for you at the store. Call me back ASAP.”

Karen sent her a text message.

“Sorry. Mistress had my phone last evening/night and I never saw any message. I have a problem: I’m all restrained and gagged. I can’t go, sorry.”

“What? Well, the owner made it very clear. If you don’t come in today, don’t come in at all. You do what you have to do.” was Sandra’s answer.

Karen found it rather rude, especially since she had no knowledge of being hired. Lynda may have forgotten. She decided to message Lynda about it.

“Oh, yes. My bad. Yes, there was a message after our little fun and I forgot about it. Well, you better go to work then, otherwise you will be out of any fantasies until you find a new job!”

What could she do? She was tied up and mute. What help could she bring to the store? How could she help customers? How the hell was she going to get to work?

At least, she ought to try.

Going to the elevator and to the street was relatively easy, although she was already aroused by the rubbing of the toys.

Getting on the bus was one heck of a challenge! Her hobble chain was barely enough to climb the stairs. It was almost as if Lynda had calculated the length of that chain just for that.

She was stared at by the driver and many passengers gave her a dirty look, although, again, some seemed to be drooling at the sight. Yes, nobody could recognize her but, still…

She stood up for the whole trip. Good thing she didn’t have to transfer to another bus. She finally arrived at the store, panting and aroused as hell from the struggle and the walk.

Sandra was already with customers and gave up a quick double-glance at the newcomer then stopped dead in the middle of her explanation.

“Karen? You’re not fucking serious? That… that’s the new employee. She was supposed to start today. I guess she took the fetish shop dress code too seriously,” she said, giving an explanation to the customers who looked at her with a mix of stunned and curious expressions.

A woman who followed Karen in was staring at her, following her around, making her uncomfortable and a little scared as she was staring her down but wouldn’t get closer.

Karen tried to help other customers, listening to their questions, leading them to the racks or the display for clothes, toys, bondage gear, etc. Not being able to talk was a problem but she was able to get over it with simple ‘universal’ gestures: yes nod, no shake, thumb up, down, even the straight horizontal hand in an ‘esh’ gesture were fully understood. She could reach the lower racks and the customers obliged for anything higher. All in all, she generated a few up-sells. As weird as it may sound, all her restraints, including the tight collar and the gag, were bringing her joy. She liked it because it made her feel the restraints with every movement. She even wished her ankle chain would be smaller!

Finally, the woman who followed her in got closer, but slowly. Evidently, she was hesitating. Karen opened her arms in a welcome gesture and tried to smile… as if it would show under an extra-tight panel gag.

The woman was definitely nervous. She extended a shaking hand and pointed to her chastity belt.

“Did… Did you take that here?”

Karen nodded yes, then pointed to the belt, gestured for its shape, then her waist and then pointed to herself.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand… Is it expensive?”

Karen gestured again, using the same gestures but it only confused the woman.

“What she means is that this belt was custom-made for her. We don’t have much ready-to-sell in stock. High-quality gear is custom made, and yes, being custom made makes it expensive,” said Sandra who had just finished with her customers.

“Oh… I’d like to have one,” said the woman with a nervous trembling voice.

“Sure. Go with Karen, she will take your measurements first, then we’ll discuss the options.”

“Op… options?”

“Yes, the shield, plugs, design, D-rings, everything is customizable, from the simplest to the fully equipped one.”

“I assume they make models for men?” said the woman of the couple Sandra had just served.

“Yes, they do,” said Sandra.

“Good. Measure this,” she said, pointing at the man standing behind her, head low.

Karen took the measurements and then Sandra helped them with the options. The woman made her choices and the Dominant woman, with her sub, was looking at different designs.

“I like that flat panel one. Totally hide this monstrosity,” she said, pointing at her sub’s crotch. “is that uncomfortable?”

“I can’t say for myself, obviously, but I believe it is the least comfortable, forcing the penis backward and the balls back up into their native holes.”

“Perfect then. Order it.”

More customers came and Karen helped more customers choose different items, many of which were what she was wearing, from the catsuit, the hood to the cuffs and, again, more belts. She even sold some bondage furniture, including a medieval-looking bondage rack, shaped like a five-branch star, for immediate delivery. All this time, she stood up, afraid to have an orgasm on the spot if she were to sit down on her toys.

Sandra was closing her sales terminal with wide eyes.

“Damn, Karen! I never sold that much in a single day. You are a great sales representative!” she said, smiling.

Karen gave a small bow.

“I’m sure you’re ready to leave but I need to make a phone call first to the owner,” she said walking to the back to talk privately. She came back a few moments later. “Okay, she’s very impressed by the sales figures and by your performance. Now, she wants you to be here, tomorrow, but only in latex. No corset, no belt, no cuffs, no gag. Only your latex catsuit.”

Karen’s eyes conveyed her puzzled expression. Sandra smiled.

“You’ll be used as a merchandise display,” she said with a devilish grin.

She headed back home, all happy and extremely aroused, ready to be allowed to let the orgasm explode! Lynda was already there. Karen immediately went to start the dinner but saw some Chinese take-out boxes on the counter. Lynda removed the gag.

“Oh… Thank you, Mistress,” said Karen after a pool of drool oozed out on her latex-covered breasts. “You bought dinner?”

“Yes. You deserve some break after the day you spent. I had a call. I’m very impressed. Going back tomorrow?”

“Yes and… with your permission, Sandra asked me to come in with my catsuit only. She wants to use me for merchandise display,” she asked, a little afraid of the answer.

“Oh, really? That’s a great idea. Sure, no problem. So, how is your skin? How do you feel?

“I feel fine, actually. Funny but although I spent the whole day moving, I didn’t feel much sweat. Usually, my feet should be floating in sweat but, they seem fine.”

“Let’s have a look,” said Lynda, removing the tight collar, much to Karen’s delight although she almost missed it once off, and pulled on the collar of the suit to look at the skin. “Looks fine to me. Pinkish but no sign of the usual wrinkles that should have started. We’ll see tomorrow. Now, take the next pill and eat, the night is going to be… long,” she said with a devilish smile.

“What? Why?”

Lynda took the gag and let it dangle between her fingers.

“Not a word. Eat.”

Karen complied then cleaned the little dishes she had to clean.

“Now come, there’s been some addition to your room.” said Lynda.

Karen walked in and stopped at the door. That five-point bondage bench that had been ordered by phone was there.

Now, I suspect you will be very noisy,” she said, showing the panel gag again. “This one is the most effective one. I know you spent the day in it and might prefer another one. Your choice.” said Lynda.

Karen thought for a moment, walking to the bondage bench/cross and gently rubbing it from her latex-coated hands. She would be tied up with her legs spread and her arms straight from the shoulders, almost like on a cross, but lying on her back.

“I want the same, and the collar. And both as tight as they were.”

“Really? Well, your choice,” said Lynda, quickly pulling the gag tight as well as the collar.

A few minutes later, Karen was heavily restrained on the cross, unable to move at all, being stretched out from everywhere. Her legs were being pulled out in one direction, her arms in another and also her head!

Lynda added a blindfold, wished her goodnight and walked away, leaving Karen there, in silence, darkness and… void.

She was expecting her toys to come alive but everything was dead. Was that it? She would spend the night all stretched out, all tied up with nothing. Oh well, just that bondage was well enough. She loved feeling the restraints dig into her rubber flesh when she struggled. She loved thetight corset. She loved feeling that rubber layer over her skin. She loved the deep gag and the tight collar. She loved the large toys inside her. She was hot. She was horny. She was aroused. She…

Buzzzzz! Buzzz!

Oh damn!

She orgasmed! Right then, right there! On the first buzz of her toys, it sent her over the edge, into orbit, in the middle of fireworks. Her body was shaking, pulling on every side, but she was too strongly held down. And good thing she was otherwise she would have flown out of the apartment. And the more she pulled, the more she pushed, the more she felt how restrained she was and the more powerful the orgasm was. Her head lit up with fireworks, explosions. She saw stars streaking by as if she was traveling at light speed. The pleasure created a hot burning fire at her crotch which spread to her whole body.

She was not on fire. She WAS fire. A fire of pleasure. The orgasm slowly subsided but the toys didn’t stop and soon another one was building. Damn! She never thought anyone could have so many orgasms!

At some point, she passed out or simply slept of exhaustion… when the batteries were themselves exhausted.

She was standing in the middle of a field of colorful flowers. They smelled like rubber. They looked like rubber. Heck, the whole field looked like rubber, even the sky and the nearby forest looked like rubber.

She was in a rubber world. She wanted to walk in the middle of it, roll herself in rubber but she couldn’t. Somehow, she was restrained. She was bound to some sort of St-Andrew’s cross, arms spread out, and her legs also spread out. She was unable to move. And she liked it.

She felt a sudden release of pulling force on her arm and the whole field of latex flowers blurred out and disappeared, leaving her into a dark world. She heard a voice.

“I can’t believe you actually slept like that,” said Lynda.

“Me neither,” said Karen once the gag was removed.

She was freed, her skin checked: it was very fine. Breakfast, another pill and she was off to work. But her brain was still in that field of rubber flowers.

Part VIII

Karen was there before the opening, waiting at the door, almost parading in front of passersby in awe, in her full catsuit and high heels. Well, she wouldn’t wear anything else. Sandra arrived shortly after in skinny jeans and T-shirt.

“I would never dare to go on the bus dressed in rubber. You’re bold to do it,” she said as she unlocked the door and disarmed the alarm system.

“No big deal, especially since they can’t see my face,” giggled Karen. “I get comments, usually the bad ones as the people with the good ones are more respectful and simply enjoy the show, but I don’t care. It’s not as if I’m running around naked, although nothing is more natural than being naked, I mean… we are not born wearing latex.”

Sandra looked at her with a smirk on her face.

“Yeah but… if you want to go down that path, the first thing that touches you once you get out is the hands of the doctor, usually latex gloves, so the first thing your skin feels while getting out of the womb is… latex. Which might explain.”

It took a moment for Karen to understand and she burst out laughing.

Sandra walked along the multiple racks, looking for something.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be totally unshined by you so… red catsuit and black corset it is,” she said, picking up the mentioned garment and heading to the back of the store, to come back a little later with the suit and corset on, as well as high heel boots.

“Okay, time to set you up. I want to point out that this is not my choice, but the owner’s directives,” she said as she retrieved the items from the list on her phone.

Karen was quickly fitted with chromed, heavy steel shackles and collar, as well as a simple ballgag. The ankle cuffs were linked with a short chain, and her wrist cuffs were also linked, but in her back with a chain long enough that she was able to reach her nose by folding the other arm in her back. With that, she was able to grab most of the items.

Thigh-high boots were added as well as a very tight red leather corset, and she was locked in said corset by a wide steel belt.

“I do hope you have the keys,” said Karen as she started to hear the distinctive sound as everything was locked on.

“Oh, I don’t. The owner does. She should come to see how things are doing toward the end of the day.”

“And if she doesn’t or is not satisfied?”

Sandra looked at her with a devilish smile.

“I am to tie you up to the X-frame for the night.”

Karen was speechless. She was stuck at the crossroads between fear and hope.

“So… what should I do now?” asked Karen.

“Just do what you did for the last 2 days: be yourself,” said Sandra, rubbing her corset.

Sandra had her manager’s tasks to do, prepping the store, preparing orders, etc. Karen wandered around, looking at the different items so she would be able to direct customers to them. Knowing the inventory was a great plus as a salesperson.

The first customers entered and Karen helped them. She loved feeling the weight of the steel shackles, the rattle of the chains, and also feeling the long chain from her wrist cuffs brush against her buns.

One customer, a woman, looked strange to Karen. She was looking at stuff and at the same time, not looking at it, as if she was repulsed. She had come alone. At one point, she softly approached Karen as she was far from Sandra and gestured her to get closer as she whispered a question.

“Are they forcing you on this? Do you need help?”

Karen giggled and nodded no.

“Here, let me help you,” said the woman, reaching for Karen’s cuffs, which she quickly pulled back.

“Don’t worry, I just want to help. I just want to free you,” she said, louder.

Karen reached for her ballgag. It was the only item that wasn’t locked.

“Leave me alone, will you? I am not forced to wear this and if I wasn’t restrained, I would asked for it,” she said, rather loudly, which stunned the woman.

“But… why?”

“I can’t really tell. But I like it. Want to try it?” she asked, and seeing the woman’s shocked face, decided to pull the dagger even further, taking a latex panties with double plugs attached from a nearby rack. “You should try this! I’m sure your husband will like it. You can also get that dildo strap and have him from behind. Who knows, he might love it. Or…”

But she didn’t have the opportunity to continue. The woman made a discussed grin so large that Karen thought she was going to puke on the spot, before she turned around and literally ran out of the store, knocking a few racks in her rush to get out.”

“What the hell was that?” asked a puzzled Sandra.

“Oh, just some good citizen wanting to get me out of my misery. I simply offered her a few chosen items,” she said, showing them.

Sandra laughed.

“Oh, we get those from time to time. So… you took off your gag?”

“Uh… Yes. I sort of had to. I mean, I had to reply to her, she was trying to grab my cuffs to take them off.”

“Well, according to the rules, I should increase the setup by putting on a locked head harness but I think it will be better if you’re left without a gag, and it will make it easier for you to answer customers’ questions. That gag was my take on your setup, so it’s all on me,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, but I like it thegggmmff,” said Karen as she pulled the gag tightly back in place.

More customers were served and Karen took off her gag a few times to help them, and especially to up-sell them to higher-end clothes and accessories.

They took a short break for lunch, then it was back to work. Sandra noticed that, when there were not any customers, Karen was always heading to the high-heel section and was looking at different ballet heels.

“Are you interested into buying a pair for yourself?” she asked.

“Yes and no,” said Karen after removing her gag. “I mean, I’m sure I can’t walk in these.”

“It is difficult, I myself only manage for a short time but there are some people who could spend a whole evening in them. Of course, you have to aim for the very high-end boots.”

“Yeah I figured,” she said, taking a pair in her hand. “Shit, those are really expensive… and exactly my size.”

“I would tell you to try them on but your actual boots are locked on by the shackle, so… Maybe tomorrow.”

At the same time, a customer entered.

“What’s the problem?” she asked.

“Oh, Mistress Valerie. I was expecting you by the end of the day,” said Sandra.

Karen turned to see that woman, clad in tight leather from head to toe, including her gloved hands.

“I like surprise visits. So, what’s the problem?” asked the Dominatrix.

“Karen would like to try ballet heels but she’s currently locked in her thigh-highs.”

Valerie smiled.

“I can take care of that,” she said, producing a set of keys. “But you put them on, they are not taken off until the end of the day.”

“Uh… so… you’re the owner? You own that store? You and Lynda are on this?”

“That’s MISTRESS Lynda,” said Valrie with a stern tone.

“Yes, sorry, Mistress Valerie. Mistress Lynda and you are are on this?”

“Yes. And yes, we sort of pranked you yesterday with the extreme setup, but instead, you got us both with your outstanding sales performances.”

“Sandra is a great teacher,” said Karen, not wanting to take all the credits.

“Shit, Karen. I didn’t even have time to coach you, I kept ringing up your sales!” said Sandra, giggling.

“So, about the boots? Want to go through with it?” asked Valerie.

“Well, that’s a great offer, Mistress Valerie. I’ll try, but I do not guarantee that I will be able to stand up, so my… sales might go down.”

“One step at a time. Here, let me help you,” said Valerie, unlocking the shackles and helping Karen take off the thigh-high boots and then put on the ballet boots, lacing them tightly, then applying the steel shackles again.

“Take a hold of my hand and try to stand up,” she said.

Karen complied and, legs shaking, got up. It was not exactly glamorous. Her legs were shaking, she was bending forward and her legs were bending backward. She grabbed a hold of a nearby rack and gradually got herself up straight.

“Okay, go slow and with very small steps, barely the length of the boot… good… that’s it… another one,” said Valerie.

“Wow! I couldn’t even do that when I put mine on the first time. Ever danced ballet before?”

“Well…” said Karen between two small steps, having let go of all support, “I was in the school ballet class when I was 14…”

“You’re impressive,” said Valerie as Karen became more secure, doing more normal strolls, her body straight and not holding anything.

“Wow. It’s less hard than I imagined,” said Karen.

“Impressive,” said Sandra.

“And I have a proposal for you,” said Valerie.

“Shoot!… I mean… I’m listening, Mistress Valerie,” quickly corrected Karen.

“Nice save! You sell one pair and I let you have them for half the price.”

“Fair enough,” said Karen. “Proposal accept…”

“Wait,” cut in Valerie. “There’s always two sides to a medal. If you don’t sell one, you are kept locked, AS IS, until tomorrow afternoon.”

Karen thought for a moment and smiled.

“Deal!” she said, extending a hand to conclude it with a handshake, which Mistress Valerie did.

“Well, I have to go. The keys to free you are in Sandra’s hands. She’ll free you at the end of the day… if you’ve sold one pair.”

Karen smiled and paced back and forth.

“Damn arousing if you want my take on them,” she said, smiling, “and more easier to walk in than I expected.”

“Wait for a while then we’ll discuss it again,” said Sandra, knowing the strain of wearing ballet boots comes with time.

“You do realize that she will never cope with those boots for as long as that,” said Lynda.

“Yes, I know, and I also know that those are hard to sell at that price. So, don’t be surprised if she is back late, it will not be easy for her to come home wearing them.”

“That will probably ruin the boots, Valerie. You will have a net loss and…” began to say Lynda but she was cut short by Valerie’s phone ringing.

“Sorry, this is the store, and it’s closing time. There might be something wrong and I have to answer.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Hello… Yes Sandra… A problem?… Oh… Yeah… Uh? Really?… Ah-Han… Yeah… Okay… Hum… Well, technically, she’s right, so… Yes… Fully… And oh, the boots are hers.”

“What was that all about?” asked Lynda.

“Well my deal was that if she sold one pair, she was to have the ones she was wearing at half the price, if not she was to be stuck, as-is, until tomorrow, and there was also the condition that if she didn’t meet the sales goals, she was to spend the night on the X-Frame. Well, she sold three pairs.”

“Three pairs?” repeated a stunned Lynda.

“Yes, so she said that she didn’t succeeded in selling ONE pair and thus, she also didn’t meet her sales goal, so she deserves to spend the night on the X-Frame,” explained Valerie, eyes wide. “She is nuts!”

“Nope. That’s Karen,” answered Lynda, giggling. “I, for myself, am not surprised. So… looks like we’re alone for dinner. Care to share a table at a restaurant?”

“Khighhewrr. HGIGHHERR”

“Karen, I’m petite and I’m literally lifting myself off the ground pulling on it. I can’t pull you any tighter,” she said, looking at the stretched woman on the X frame, gently squirming.

“Ghoorgh ffgshhaappth.”

“More straps? Damn it Karen, you’ll be covered in leather if I add more. No, that is enough. I’ll see you tomorrow.” said Sandra, giving a last look at that woman, stretched taut on the X-frame, with straps added to her waist, over and below her breasts, upper thighs, mid-thighs, above and lower the knees, mid-calf, ankles, and shoulders, over and under the elbows and wrists, as well as a tight strap pulling her head harness gag up.

“You’re sure you want it like that?”

On a definitive yes nod, Sandra put on the last item: a blindfold. Then walked out, looking at her from the display window. With the right lighting, she would easily be seen from the street. Police had been warned to not come if anybody wants to free her. She did that voluntarily. Well, technically, she asked for it.

Karen was in her own little world. Every little squirm reminded her that she was very well secured. Every little wiggle made every strep reveal itself. Every little squirm brought her closer to the orgasm. And the worst? Or was it the best part, was that she didn’t have any toys inside her? Nothing. Just the feeling of being tightly restrained, of being unable to move, or being tightly encased in rubber, corset and leather straps, just the feeling of those ballet boots, which she was able to easily cope with for the rest of the day without any pain, much to Sandra’s surprise, all this was leading to an extreme arousal. One last jolt of her crotch, one last pull on her thigh cuffs. One more…

She exploded. She screamed, as the joy of the orgasm engulfed her, making her body tense against the restraints, increasing the level of pleasure, making her strain even more. She was engulfed in flames from the inside, experiencing something she never thought possible. A mix of pure joy, pure pleasure, pure ecstasy, pure… whatever. (I am sincerely out of adjectives here…)

The deepthroat gag she requested was blocking her airways, increasing the orgasmic level, the pleasure, sending her to another dimension.

Again, she saw those flowers, that large rubber field of flowers, her ideal world. she was seeing latex. She was smelling latex. She was tasting latex. She was latex. Oh, she wished.

As the orgasm subsided, she fell asleep. Being tied up like she was wasn’t a problem. Nothing was exactly uncomfortable, for a bondage fetishist, that is. There were no pressure points, no painful tug. She felt weightless. She was in peace. She liked it. She dreamed. Oh, she dreamed of latex. She dreamed of being completely sealed in rubber, forever and ever.

She dreamed.

Part IX

She was standing in the courtroom in full business attire: pants, shirt, jacket, but all in latex. For the first time in the last two months, her head was actually free of the latex. Well, she had to, to be present in the courtroom, to be properly identified. Her skin was normal and her hair was hanging loose on her shoulders.

Her skin had shown no side effects of the pill or of her enclosure in latex for such a long time.

There was the judge, Karen obviously, her lawyer, the company lawyer and the H.R. lady. Lynda was there as moral support and Karen caught a glimpse of someone else by the door: Jennifer.

The judge looked at the forms, the termination letter, at Karen, taking a long look, then at the company people.

“This is, without a doubt, a wrongful termination. I admit that latex is not something we commonly see but there’s nothing illegal in wearing it, and since, by her job description, she’s not in contact with any customer, I don’t see how such a strict dress code could be held against a job termination.

Miss Karen here is hereby granted her full pay since her illegal termination, plus punitive damage of one hundred thousand dollars, and will be allowed to be re-hired immediately, assuming it is her desire.”

“I am sorry, your honor, this is not acceptable. We will not be taking Miss Karen back.”

“Okay then. I’m adding a $250 000 severance pay.”

“Two hundred and fif… are you out of your mind?”

“Five hundred thousand dollars!” said the judge, banging his gavel.

“But your honor, you can’t…”

“BANG!”

“One million. Do you want me to go up to two million? I know this is pocket change for a corporation like yours.”

“No, your Honor. But… would you consider going back to that two-hundred and…”

The judge raised his gavel.

“Uh… no. I guess not. Thank you, your honor.”

The H.R. lady was obviously holding her laugh. Karen’s lawyer was smiling ear to ear, and Karen simply said “Thank you, your Honor.”

As they left the courtroom, she stopped by to see Jennifer.

“Hey, Jennifer, your vaccine is doing great, look at my skin! I took off the hood this morning and, no blemish, no red spots, no wrinkles, everything is fine!”

“That’s… that’s good to hear, Karen. But there’s a snag… They found out about my little experiments and, well, I can’t continue.”

“Oh, sorry about that. But I think your research is done. The pill is working.”

“Yeah and it’s great, but… I can’t continue to fabricate it either, or they’ll sue me down to my underwear. I’m sorry, Karen.”

“Can you give me the… recipe or something?”

“She slowly shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

“Uh… That’s bad news,” said Karen.

Jennifer approached even closer.

“I saw it coming so… I produced as much as I could,” she said, handing her the key from a bus terminal locker. “They are all there, all… 5000 of them.”

“Wow! But… you will take at least half of them. I mean, you did it for you first and foremost and I can’t…”

Jennifer smiled.

“I have my own stash. Don’t worry,”

“Oh… of course you have,” said Karen, smiling. “Well, two per day is 730 per year, for 5000 pills, that five me… hum… almost seven years. If I use them constantly.”

“Yeah… about that…”

Karen frowned.

“From what I see about you, your latest blood draw analysis, it appears that the active ingredients linger quite a long time in your body.”

“Which means?” inquired Karen.

“You can, without a doubt, go down to one pill a day, probably even one pill every two or three days.

“Oh… OH! One pill every three days means… hum…”

“That’s forty years, Karen.”

“Well, in 40 years, I’ll be over 60y/o so… we’ll see then,” she said, giggling, then her face turning serious. “However… There’s a little side-effect you should know about.”

“Uh?” said Karen.

“Hair. They stop growing. I don’t know in the long run what it will do to your full flock of hair, but mine got thinner,” she said, running her hand through it. “Yours looks great, tho. Maybe it’s the shampoo?”

Karen giggled and pulled her hair out, revealing that it was a wig covering a bald head.

“I had that made about a month ago. I was tired of feeling them tangled under my hood, so… I shaved them.”

“Oh! Well, that’s good then. But… your hair must not have regrown much. Didn’t that puzzled you?” asked Jennifer.

“Yes and no. Every week, when we checked my skin condition, I would spread some recipes I found on the internet to inhibit hair growth. I thought it was working which really surprised me since all the comments were to the fact that it was a scam. Well, now I know I can stop using it,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, yeah… That… whatever you were putting on your head, probably didn’t work. And oh, it also stops the nails from growing.”

“Really? I thought the lack of air was causing that. I found it awesome as I didn’t have to take the suit off to cut my toenails or even my fingernails. That’s all great… side effects, Jennifer.”

“Hum, yes. But who knows what it will do in the long run. Forty years is a long time, Karen. But who knows? Maybe, during that time, someone will come up with a permanent solution… or a similar pill,” said Jennifer.

“Let’s hope for it,” said Karen, giving her a hug. “Thank you for everything!”.

“So, what are you going to do with all that money?” asked Lynda as they settled in the living room, Karen’s latex outfit creaking, her arms cuffed in her back. Well, rules were rules: she had to be restrained as soon as she entered the flat.

“I don’t know. Probably invest some of it.”

“Into what?”

“I don’t know. There’s no rush.

“Well, you know… Nah, forget it.”

“No, please, tell me, Lynda. You have an idea?”

“Well… Valerie told me that she wishes, one day, to be able to have her own line of fetish gear, from latex suits to full bondage harnesses and chastity belts and corsets and stuff, but that’s a lot of different businesses/trades into one entity.”

“Indeed, it is. We should set up a meeting to discuss it.”

Karen was immobile in her chair, severely restrained with multiple leather straps, holding her legs, torso, and arms, as well as her head. Her eyes and mouth were free. Well, if she was to discuss business, she had to be allowed to see and talk, right?

Lynda, Valerie and Sandra were there, cramped in the small backroom of the fetish store. That bondage chair into which Karen was secured was in fact a prototype Valerie had made.

“I know a couple of latex goods makers, who do it for themselves and a few friends that are willing to get on with us. And also, the craftsman who built that chair has many ideas of bondage furniture and also is ready to get on,” said Valerie.

“That’s a very nice start,” said Karen. “Do you think we can find a leather artisan? Having latex, leather restraints and wooden bondage furniture would make a very nice complete line.”

“I know someone,” said Sandra. “He can make custom orders for us and I know he wishes he could live from it.”

“That’s very good,” said Karen. “Yes, I’m in.”

“Hum… okay,” said Valerie. “I must ask, but… at what level? How much are you willing to invest?”

“Honestly, Valerie?” said Karen, looking at all of them by turning her eyes only, which made it almost eerie, seeing that woman, fully clad in black shiny rubber, heavily restrained on that wooden chair, actually having most of the control about the future of that company. “If that allows me to spend my life in latex and bondage, I’m fully in. For as long as I have money.”

“Are you nuts? You’re going to put all your money in this?” said Lynda, stunned.

“Yep. I’m selfish like that,” she said with a smile. “Although I don’t intend to touch my retirement savings,” she added with a grin.

“Hum… okay,” said Valerie. “There must be something you want out of it, not just put in your money so that there more kinky stuff being made. I mean… just lay there and take back the profits?”

“Of course not. I said that I was selfish: I want to manage that company.”

“And be the main tester, of course,” giggled in Sandra.

“And be the main tester. I have to make sure the products have… the Karen’s Seal of Approval. Oooo! I like that! What do you think?”

“We’ll think about it, said Valerie, laughing.”

“Oh, and I want every employee to be in latex and be tied up to their working station and I want to move around suspended on a track and I also want…”

“Please, somebody! Anybody! Gag her!” said Sandra.

Part X

Ah, the flowers. The latex field. The rubber mountains. The shiny bright yellow glossy sun. And that smell. The wonderful smell of latex.

Wonderful. Simply wonderful.

She took a deep breath, feeling the tight corset constricting her waist and chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she took a full lung of air. Yes, this was what she liked. She stretched. Well, she in fact, moved very little, and she as already stretched. Stretched taut on the T-framed table. arms straight out, legs slightly spread out, a little like a gingerbread man cookie.

The rubber scene slowly disappeared to make way for… black. Nothing. Of course she was blindfolded.

She squirmed. She felt the latex coating her skin. She loved it. She felt warm and cozy in her shiny black suit. She also felt protected: she was no more “wet” under the rain. She was no more “sweating” when it was sunny. She could dip into the pool and get out without using a towel. Daily showers were a breeze. She tried to swallow. That was difficult, thanks to the large gag going deep into her mouth, and the tight collar wrapping her neck.

She couldn’t get out of her predicament. Someone was needed to put her in, and take her out. She didn’t mind, it was making the whole thing more secure.

She felt something close to her. Something touched her. She felt the restraints becoming loose. She was gradually freed from the gingerbread frame.

The blindfold was removed and she was helped to sit. Valerie and Lynda were there. Her hands were tied in her back and her ankles linked together.

Yes, rules are rules. She is to never be free.

Lynda removed her collar and pulled hard on the neck opening of the suit to check on her skin.

“Still good. Do we go on?” she asked.

Kren nodded YES without hesitation. She stood up, quickly finding her balance on her ballet boots. Now, those were the only boots she would be wearing.

Leading, she slowly walked out of her bedroom, basically a dungeon, located inside the new warehouse for the manufacturing company: K.K.L. Karen Kinky Line. It’s been up and running for four months now, Karen leading the teams, pepping them and, of course, trying most of the devices, outfits and mainly, bondage furniture.

Things were going well. Very well. Too well, actually. That morning, she had dreadful news to announce. She got everybody in the common lunch room.

Valerie removed her gag and linked her collar to a ring on the wall behind her, limiting Karen to merely one meter of play. The group of 3 latex good makers, three woodworkers and two leather craftsmen were all sitting. Some in latex, some in leather and some in vanilla. Yes, she would have loved to have them all in latex and bondage but she couldn’t force HER fetishes on the others.

“Good morning group,” she said, holding the little remote for the little slideshow presentation. “We’ve been promoting our brand for the past four months now, in kinky events, bondcons, social networks and such. The results are, however, not very good.”

There was a soft whisper in the group, a puzzled whisper.

“No, it wasn’t very good, it was extra-overwhelmingly good!” she exclaimed, all smiles. “This is the order book to date!” she said, clicking her little remote, showing the orders. The mood changed from surprise, to stunning to disbelief.

“I… we… We can’t do that many orders. I have to hire 2 to 3 more workers if I want the delivery time to be reasonable,” said Brigitte from the latex goods section.

“I would need at least two more woodworkers and… another bandsaw… and… euh… many more tools and more room and…” mumbled Frank from the woodworking shop.

“At least two to three more craftsmen for me,” said Hans from the leather shop.”

“You tell Valerie what you need. We will get the people and get the new tools. And we’ll be moving to a bigger warehouse in two weeks. I’ll see all of you later to work out the production schedule.”

There was a general smile.

“Okay guys! That’s it. Let’s get to work!” said Karen.

“Wait. We should celebrate that,” said Brigitte.

“Yes, we have prepared something in the event that things went big. Not THAT big but, we do have something prepared.”

“That’s great, folks, but it will be for next weekend. We have to work, like NOW,” said Karen, trying to do her manager’s job.”

“I think we can take an hour off to celebrate,” said Valerie.

“No. We need to manufacture as moghrrfmfffhg…” said Karen as Valerie gagged her back.

“The fact is, Karen,” said Valerie, “that all of this is, well, your fault. Because you’re so good at selling our products, at representing KKL, at figuring the right promotions, and then on the production floor, you become a real pain in the ass. So we decided that you needed something special.”

On that, large doors opened and the two woodworkers walked in with a large bench on wheels.

“You will be tied to this device for 24 hours. For testing purposes, of course,” said Lynda.

Karen stared at the device with a mix of eagerness and apprehension. It was a large wooden frame, a mix between a stock and a kneeling/praying board, and with a lot of steel tubings. She was installed on it. Her crotch was resting on a soft yet firm padded block. Her ankles, upper calf, lower thigh and thighs were linked to the sides of that block, locking her legs in place.

Another block was rising from the back and stopping at her waist where another strap was wrapped around it, locking it there.

Her arms were put into a stock-like board located at chest level in front of her, while her head was also held in some stock-like board but straight up. In the end, she felt she was sitting on a straight motorcycle.

But unable to move.

They moved the tables around and put her in the middle of the lunch room. She tried to get free. Of course, she couldn’t. Which was arousing like hell, especially kneeling/sitting on that seat-like block, which pushed against the crotch band of her chastity belt, pushing her toys deeper. She could move her upper hips a little, just enough to make those toys move.

They all smiled, waved at her and left the room.

Lynda turned around.

“Oops. forgot,” she said, adding a blindfold.

And that was it. Karen was left there, alone with her thoughts. She tried to see the images of the rubber flower fields, her escape scenes, but for some reason, nothing came. She wasn’t feeling very comfortable. Her arms were straining. She tried to move, to place her crotch a little more to the front, but couldn’t but those restraints were so good! Damn, she was hot.

If only. If only.

But nothing. She only managed to move her hips to get herself a little feeling. Well, if they wanted to punish her, that was good because she felt punished. No feeling. Well, no sexual teasing, except for the bondage, the latex, the corset, the silent toys, the position of her feet in the ballet boots, the…

Oh shit!

Things began to move, to hump, to shake, but it wasn’t her toys. It was the seat. It had its own toys. It raised, pushing against her crotch while pulling on her upper legs which were still firmly held down. Even her neck was stretched. Her waist was gently pushed and pulled forward and backward, making her rock on the seat, but without her controlling it. The “machine” was.

It was moving her body, her arms, her torso, her legs, even spreading them while she ‘rode the seat’.

She didn’t need her field of rubber flowers! Already, fireworks were exploding in her head. She was relentlessly fucked, screwed, everything, every word describing it! The ‘thing’ that made her move had no idea about the restraints, so it was not her who was limiting the pull, or the stretch. so she felt every one of them, which reinforced the helpless feeling that she was absolutely NOT in control of her orgasm

That was the trigger that launched her orgasm, and she was glad she was restrained that much! She was living it so much that, although the device was heavy, a bystander could see it slightly move.

And there were bystanders. The whole of the employees were there, watching her struggle, some giggling, some in awe and some already planning alterations, modifications to the device, to the restraints, making an adjustment here, changing one angle there.

After all, Karen was a test subject.

She had had many tied-up orgasms, and each time, she thought that that was it, that was the peak of pleasure. This one topped them all.

Every pull, every stretch sent pleasure waves through her muscles, each pleasure wave radiating from her crotch outward then seemed to take strength and come back inside more powerful than it was. She was screaming and it was getting out of her tight gag! That’s how much pleasure this was.

After many jerks, pulls and stretches, the device sort of calmed down, lowering the movements, lowering the humping, lowering the vibrations, gently bringing her to a relaxed state, still very much restrained and unable to move. Still very much enjoying her situation.

She heard voices. She heard clapping. She giggled. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she heard the man responsible for such a device.

She nodded.

“Good. I’ll let you rest for some time before going again for a second try.”

A second try? No. She couldn’t cope with a second try. That thing was devilish. Exhausting. But so damn powerfully wonderful… Yes, she wanted a second try but… not now.

She wiggled her head doing a yes and a no.

“Yes, we can figure out that it was quite a ride. We won’t start it now, but in a couple of hours, leaving you time to rest.” said the man.

Oh, yes, that was a good idea. A nice rest and another ride. Probably, by that time she would be relaxed and rested enough to appreciate it. But… shouldn’t she be removed from it? Shouldn’t she be able to lay down to rest, to sleep it off? Hey? Gus? She squirmed on the device, struggling, trying to get free.

“See you later,” she heard from a distance and the door of the lunch room closing.

Oh fuck! They are not leaving her like that, do they?

Slowly, her body relaxed and she realized that all the restraints were keeping her as is, without creating any painful pull or pressure points. Her breath calmed down. Her world became quiet.

She was suddenly startled as she felt someone touch her head. It took her some time before her brain kicked into action. Was she asleep? Did she actually fall asleep tied up on that device?

“Hey, how are you doing?” she heard Lynda’s voice.

Karen nodded yes.

“It’s break time so the gang would like to see you in action again.”

Break time? That’s… TWO hours? She slept for two hours? Fuck!

Something was pulled over her head. She felt the straps being tightened and she recognized the sound. One moment later and she was struggling to breathe. Yes, the gasmask linked to the bubbler had been added.

Shit. Again.

Without another word, the device went into action again, but not all at the same time as before. This time, only her waist was made to move forward and backward, moving her hips, making her crotch gently rock on the seat. Teasing her. Slowly arousing her.

Something she would have done if she wasn’t bound to the device.

The seat seemed to make a subtle, gentle movement up and down, increasing and lowering the pressure on her crotch.

Something she would have done if she wasn’t bound to the device.

This was crazy. This was nuts. Was this… device reading her mind?

Buzz…. Buzz….

Intermittent, soft to the lower setting. Her toys were giving small buzz. One after the other. Then both at the same time. Then two times one, and one time the other. Then… oh, the hell with trying to figure out the pattern. She just wanted to enjoy it.

And the breathing restriction made by the bubbler seemed to increase her pleasure, her feeling of helplessness. Her arousal.

Damn! She never knew being so under the control of someone else was so sexually stimulating. She was totally dependent. For breathing and for moving.

Damn, she wished she would be dependent on… eating. On bowel cleaning. On seeing. On talking. All the time. Constantly.

The field of flowers was back, the smell of rubber was back, and the flowers were dancing. They were singing. And every movement, every sound aroused her. Her head was ringing as the devices went into action again, but so slowly that she didn’t realize it. Soon, the device was stretching her legs, her neck, pulling on her arms, humping her, while the tows were creating a mess of pleasure inside her.

It wasn’t an orgasm. She couldn’t classify it as an orgasm as, although it took its root inside her crotch, it engulfed her body like never before. It was, plain and simple: pleasure. Pure pleasure. Pure joy. Pure happiness. Pure… everything good. It was the perfect steak, the perfect ice cream, the perfect raspberry pie, the perfect salad, the perfect fruit, the perfect dinner, the perfect location the perfect everything! Everything was perfect!

She screamed, she threw her head backward, she raised her hips, she arched her spine, all to be totally unable to actually do it. The feeling of the restraints, the creaking of the latex, the struggle to breathe, lit up a nuclear fusion explosion in her mind, in her crotch, on her nipples, everywhere. Even on here toenails!

It was overwhelming. Her brain began to shut down, to black out. Can someone die of pleasure?

If that was it then… so be it. She would die happy.

Part XI

“Have I died and gone to heaven?”

“No, Karen. You didn’t. You simply fell unconscious for five minutes, the time it took us to take you out of the machine. How do you feel?”

“Like an angel,” she said, smiling, the strange grin with her pale skin. “A bondage angel…” Her hood had been removed to take her vitals. Her skin was surprisingly fine and healthy, although pale as it wasn’t exposed to the sun.

“I want it all,” she said.

“All? What do you mean?”

“You know, like those fantasy stories: sealed in rubber, tubes for feeding and cleaning, permanently locked, unable to ever get out for the rest of my life.”

“Are you fucking serious?” asked Valerie.

“Well… dead serious,” said Karen. “And I want sight and sound to be controlled from the outside too!”

“We’re gonna need a lawyer.” Said Valerie.

“Good thing Lynda just graduated, then,” she said, looking at her friend.

“I… sigh.”

Six months have passed. In that time, Brigitte and Sam worked hard to provide her with what she wanted: an almost indestructible latex catsuit that was cut and abrasion-resistant, steel-boned and welded shut leather corset, leather-coated steel restraints, welded shut. Earplugs were glued inside her ears linked to sound controls, and non-contact rechargeable batteries within her gas mask. The gas mask had video monitors instead of the usual glass lenses.

They enlisted the help of a kinky nurse to insert tubes, earplugs and other equipment. Everything was glued, crimped, melted, soldered, and welded. There was no easy way out. There was no way out.

It was a surreal scene seeing all those people working around her, some wearing medical scrubs and other welding gear, manipulating critical equipment in the middle of TIG welding flashes.

After what seemed an eternity, they gradually walked away, satisfied of their job, satisfied of the end result.

Karen was lying down on her back on the special table, a mix of a medical examination table and a gynecologists’ chair. Lynda, Valerie and Sandra were there, helping Karen to sit down, her torso rigid by the steel-boned corset, and those weren’t those flexible strips. They were hardened steel solid rods. She sat on her chastity belt, which of course by then had been welded shut, which pushed the huge inserts in her crotch and rectum. Those inserts now served two functions: cleaning and pleasure. Special openings could be accessed under the chastity belt to replace the battery packs and ever service the electronic components. These were there for many, many years!

Her eyes were wide. She was still coping with the large tube going down her throat to her stomach for eating, and the annoying feeling of a runny nose, thanks to the silicone tubes inserted in her nostrils, ending at the back of her throat, for breathing.

She was seeing nothing, although her eyes were opened. OLED screens have replaced the glass lenses of her gasmask. She would see what her masters would want. Yes, masters. Valerie and Lynda would share her, making sure she stays on her side of the contract: constantly restrained.

Her visors were switched on as well as her hearing pods, getting her out of her silent and dark world.

The images appeared and she saw them.

“Do you see me? Do you hear me?” asked Valerie.

Karen nodded yes, a very small yes, feeling the full restriction of her leather-lined steel posture collar. That small head movements, barely able to move sideways, would be all she would be able to do for the rest of her time in this suit.

She saw Lynda play with the buttons of a remote control, and her visors changed for black and white, then, and that was really weird, her left eye was receiving her right vision and vice-versa. Then her world was upside down, or one image in color the other reverse colored, like a negative. Oh, yes, they could mess up her mind really good, and that was not counting on the hearing functions, where the voice of whoever was talking to her could be changed to be totally unrecognizable. Also, they could broadcast recordings, music or live streams of audio and video!

She was herself a multi-media center. On her chest, was a 20cm OLED display, and she had access to a small keyboard. She could type questions, directives or give answers to her employees of the production plant. She was their manager, after all.

That was, assuming her hands were free and able to reach the keyboard.

She made her first steps in her new totally rigid ballet heels. Nobody could suspect that, under that leather, was steel. That provided a lot of support and allowed her to stay up all day without too much leg fatigue.

A system of rails had been installed on the ceiling of the whole warehouse / manufacturing plant, allowing her to walk along while tethered to it from her collar, hobbling along on her short ankle chain. She was restrained. Totally. She loved it!

And when the night came, she didn’t need to take the link off. She would just hop on the devilish device and take place on the saddle. Quick fasteners would automatically grab hold of her cuffs and restrain her in place for the night.

So, she spent that first day getting used to all that equipment. The tubes were the hardest. With the tube down her throat, she couldn’t produce any sound, and when her hearing was turned off, all she could hear was her heart pounding in her head and her breathing. If the visors were off, she was in her own little world.

Those visors were the most difficult to deal with because they were not exactly giving a 3D image of her surroundings. It was one camera split into two images, and if she turned her eyes to look sideways, she wouldn’t see farther than what the image gave her. She had to turn her head.

That gave an even stronger feeling of being isolated, and she loved it!

She did her job of managing the production floor, watching over her employees, checking the results, bagging goods for shipping. She was more than a manager, she was a do-it-all employee.

With her sealed and permanent suit, she was not really longer a tester as none of her devices could be switched for new ones, something she fully understood.

At the end of an exhausting day, even working when the regular employees were gone, replenishing the hardware bins, preparing shipment, after all, she had nothing else to do, and the longer she worked, the longer she could feel the wonderful latex, corset, ballet boots, bondage, tight hood… well, all the stuff they put on and inside her. Finally, she retired to her bedroom for a good night of… sleep and pleasure.

She took place on the device, gently kneeling, getting her crotch on the seat. She approached her cuffs from the magnetically controlled grabbers and her legs were drawn to it, securing her in place.

She placed her head and wrists within the stocks and electric actuators closed automatically, securing her in place.

Her visor turned black and her hearing was shut down. And she waited. And waited. Uh… there was something wrong. Shouldn’t this thing activate? Did she forget something? Was something not secured?

She tried to get free. Nope, forget it. She waited some more. Damn, she swore she could hear voices around her. Were they fixing things? Was something broken? She squirmed as much as she could, which wasn’t much. She tried to call for help but absolutely no sound came out. She couldn’t scream, she couldn’t moan and she couldn’t grunt. Damn!

The strain of her position began to sink in. She was feeling the tight and very thick layer of latex covering her skin. Each nervous short breath made her feel the rigid corset. She was feeling her mouth full and her nose running, but it was all wrong feelings caused by the tubes.

For the first time, she realized the outcome of her choices. This was her life now and for a long time. On the spur of the moment, on the excitement of the prospect of being sealed in latex, she had signed a contract. Valerie, Lynda, and Sandra made her question her choices. They tried to create doubts in her mind.

But she was sure of herself. She was eager to get sealed. You know, that fantasy you imagine. You imagine it will be something, and when it’s real, it’s… different. When it’s only a visit to a fabulous Insta-crap influencer-suggested place, it’s no big deal, just a little disappointment. But this was different. She had signed for it, and she had made a very strong binding contract: if she asked out for any other reason than a medical one, she would lose all her investments in the company. She would be totally penniless. And she couldn’t be hired by KKL, or any of its parent companies, meaning Valerie’s store.

Was this the right moment to have doubts, less than 24 hours after being sealed in?

Maybe, just maybe, she should have put in, as strongly suggested by Lynda, an “exit clause”

within the first month or something, where she could go back, end this, without any consequences.

But she had to be cocky. No exit clause.

She had a thought: was this bondage acclimating or freedom withdrawal syndrome?

If at least those toys were working. Well, they should work, if not… they will have to take her out of the suit because there’s no way to remove those toys without taking the full suit off. There were no access zippers, nothing. That could be her chance to back out of it. Yes, she changed her mind. This was too much. The fantasy and the reality were too different.

She relaxed. She stopped fighting her restraints. She would be taken out in the morning. She slumped and let out a long (okay, thanks to the corset… it was a short) sigh.

She felt a jolt. The seat had just moved up. Or was it her mind imagining stuff? Uh! No, the seat did move up. And down. And the waist was pulled backward, and forward. They were jerky moves.

Then THEY moved. Up and down, forward and backward, in one smooth motion, caressing, massaging.

Suddenly, she liked it. Yes, she could wait until morning. Perhaps for the afternoon to tell them that the toys weren’t working. Yes, she could wait. She tried to move her hips to better feel the seat and… it stopped.

THE DAMN THING STOPPED! NOOOO!!!

It wouldn’t do that. THEY wouldn’t do that to her. That was frustrating as hell and she would crash on them in the morning with a whip and a paddle! They will work like slaves and… Oh… is it working again? Uh… Oh… Everything was fine then. Well, maybe she could forgo her rant in the morning.

That was good. Very good. Oh so good!

She was getting humped and was slowly rubbing her crotch on the seat. That was teasing her very well. Extremely well. Too well. She wanted more than teasing. Yes, that was good but she wanted the rocket launch, not a wet firecracker.

But only the teasing continued. It worked her good. Oh yes, she liked it. It was getting boring but she liked it. However, all her muscles were getting relaxed. It was more and more felt like a massage rather than a sexual stimulation.

She let herself slump again on the saddle.

And… all hell broke loose! Her toys came alive, the humping was harder, stronger, her waist movements were more extreme, her breathing became difficult as it had been linked to a bubbler. Her visors lit up with swirling colors, almost hypnotizing, she heard sounds, music, almost Hans Zimmeresque.

The testing had changed for a hot stimulation, very hot. And that stimulation was translating to something more powerful, more extreme.

That rocket launch was almost there. It wasn’t a Saturn Five or even Starship. It was bigger than that, larger than that, more powerful than that. Her visor became pure white, pure light, as the orgasm filled her brain, causing every synapse to trigger at the same time in a pattern of global pleasure. Damn! Even her toenails gave her an orgasm!

She was panting, struggling against the bubbler, fighting the corset. She wanted to move, to twist, to turn, but all she felt was the restraints keeping her firmly in place, getting fucked forced with her permission!

Her head tilted backward, her eyes closed as the orchestra reached the full crescendo. It was deafening, it was overwhelming. It was the best orgasm she ever achieved. And it lasted, a long, long time. The orgasm kept on giving. She thought her brain was about to fry when everything shut down at the same time. The saddle stopped, the waist froze, the visor turned black, the music stopped, her breathing was cleared. All she was left with was her orgasm, which she enjoyed without any help. Just pure pleasure, until, finally, her body had enough and she calmed down, her breath slowed down. Her heartbeat went down. Oh, she was relaxing, still surfing on that pleasure wave.

Slowly, peacefully, she fell asleep.

She was seeing flowers. Ah, she was back in her dream of a rubber field, of rubber flowers, and rubber mountains. She was back in her world of rubber. She was running in that field, brushing against latex grass, feeling the soft, spongious rubber soil. She turned on herself, again and again, like Julie Andrews in ‘The Sound of Music’. That was so wonderful, so magical.

Her dream slowly disappeared. She blinked her eyes. Her visors were on. That was perhaps what woke her up. But… was she awake or still dreaming because, in front of her, was a field of rubber flowers, with mountains of latex and a shiny rubber sun. She tried to look to the right, to the left but, without her head moving, all her eyes could see was the edges of her visors.

What the hell? Where was she? What was going on?

Something moved and became in her field of view.

“Hallo, Karen,” said Sandra, smiling. Do you like it? It’s, well, it’s rubber art. Some artists came by yesterday and gave it to us at the store. He is a latex fetishist and he said that he kept seeing images like that in her dreams and he felt compelled to make it. We thought it would look nice in your room, the first thing you would see in the morning.

What do you think?

She raised two thumbs up. How to tell them it was her dream too.

The device released her and she took her little keyboard.

“What’s the name of that artist?”

“Oh. He said to call him [insert your name here]**

“Well, say hi to [insert your name here]** and tell him (*her) I would like to meet him (*her).

Did she have doubts about her setup? About her new life? Of course. Often. But every night, she would experience the most wonderful orgasm, all restrained, all sealed in rubber, all immobile, and she loved it.

Will she get tired of it? Will she get bored with it? Will she ask to get out no matter the cost?

Some day… maybe…… well… It’s Karen. YOU figure it out.

(c) monsterp63

July 2, 2024

** I thought about putting “Pete” there but it felt presumptuous, especially since, besides writing, I have no creative talent.