Part I (out of two <I think>)

Dev couldn’t move anything.  He meant that sincerely. 
See, if you put someone into a hog-tie, even a tight one, there are still likely to be about a dozen things you can move—not to a great degree of usefulness, and not to the extent that the hog-tie-ee can do anything about his or her hog-tie-ness—but there are still parts you can move:  toes and fingers, feet, swerve your back like a fish, twist your neck, even attain an general aerobic state of flopping-aboutness.  But Dev found himself a victim of the highest degree of immobility he had experienced.  He could open and close his eyes, employ the muscles around his eyes to squint and, with effort, he could furrow his brow.  That was about the extent of it. He couldn’t even ask someone to pinch him, to find out whether or not he was dreaming.

Dev knew that going to fetish night at Club Noir probably wasn’t the best way to lift his spirits up, but habit brought him anyway.  Depression was too convenient to fall into, as he walked around all the party-goers dressed in dark flashy fetish-gear living it up.  Dev had a shiny thing or two in his own closet, but he hadn’t the heart to go all out, rather decided on a baggy pair of pants and a black T-shirt.   Maybe if he started dancing he could forget things for a while.  Anything to help him forget his own stupidity.

And perhaps he had seen a shooting star without realizing it, as he had walked toward the club wishing for something to distract him.  The girl talking to him certainly seemed like a wish come true.  Walking off the dance floor after a while of dancing, he leaned against the railing and watched her walk directly up to him.  Her name turned out to be Kerri, she was a perky blond girl who looked nineteenish.  She was decked out in a corset, a short poofy skirt which spread more horizontally than vertically, tight black fishnets and knee high PVC boots.  It was the fishnets Dev noticed first, actually.  He had a thing for legs and the fishnets were tightly woven, clinging to her legs as she stepped towards him.  Those fishnets weren’t something bought at a cheapo novelty store, but high-quality dancer’s tights.  As she took the place next to him on the rail, her skirt hid any view of her legs, like an awning, so the next thing he noticed was the buoyancy of her cleavage, which seemed not to require the aid of a corset to be charismatic. 

Her eyes were brown, and confident.  She was chewing gum and pink lipstick accented chomping lips.  Dev thought to himself, lightly,  first time I ever wanted to be a piece of gum.  The girl’s hair was up in two pigtails, set high up and toward the back of her head.  An absolute fetish object.  Dev was struck by the urge to reach out and touch her, just to be sure she was real—at least that would be the excuse he would give.

Her voice was high pitched but strong, carried smoothly over the beats, “You’re dancing is unbelievable.”

After a second of registering only, she’s talking to me!, Dev gained composure and thought, I wasn’t dancing all that well, and I know it.  He decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.  If there was some shooting star, or patron Saint of Fetish upstairs working to fulfill his wishes, who was he to interfere?
“Thanks”, he said.  “Can I buy you a drink?”
“No thanks, but I was wondering if you wanted to go in the other room and talk?”

“Sure,” Dev replied, and the girl led the way to an adjacent room, where couches prevailed and music played at a background volume.  He took a seat next to the girl, who, to his surprise, immediately got more comfortable by putting her legs up over his lap.  Her skirt hid any view which would have been considered lewd, barely. 
“Is this okay?” she asked.
“Um, sure.” 
“I’m Kerri”, she said.
“Dev.”
“Tell me what you like, Dev,” she said.
“What I like?” Dev said, dumbly, as he tried to catch up with the situation.
“What are you into?  You know, we’re at a fetish club.  What’s your fetish.”

Talk about a loaded question.  Dev’s fetishes, the fact that his sexual preferences contained so many quirks, had led to the breakdown of his last relationship, and had also precluded him from having any relationship which was truly satisfying.  But why not, he thought.  This was, like the lady said, a fetish club.  Dev had often been struck in the past by how few real fetishists there were at most fetish nights—many just came to look shiny and dance.  He mentioned bondage.  Kerri nodded and started asking questions that implied knowledge. 

After a few moments she asked what else was he into.  He divulged his lust for legs, particularly legs accessorized by fishnets or tights.  He was nervous he was letting on to much, but Kerri, conversely, seemed pleased by this.  She wanted to know what else.  She wriggled her legs in his lap, and immediately, because of his positioning, Dev was sure she felt a certain pressure trying to raise itself against her calf muscle.  Dev let onto more details, revealing a desire for more and more complete bondage, talk about psychological domination, helplessness.  Kerri slurped in his words with her eyes.  The subject of bondage was like a milkshake they were sharing with two straws.  What the hell is going on, when did I find utopia, he wondered. 
“What about latex, latex bondage?” she prompted at one point, when he seemed on the verge of running out of things to say.
“Like latex suits, you mean?”
“Yeah, that, and stuff like vacuum beds, inflatable clothes, ever tried that?”
“Not really,” he said.  “I’ve seen pictures of just about everything there is, you know, online.  It all looks good, but sometimes 
I get the feeling that practical applications lessen the experience.  Just a hunch.  I’ve never seen the stuff up close.  But I’m not gonna spend hundreds of dollars on something that might not work well,” he smiled.  “Like Vacuum beds.  I read that most of them require a vacuum running during a session.  Seems too noisy.  I have a roommate who would probably assume I was trying to pleasure myself with a hose."
Kerri laughed, and chewed. “You’re mostly right.  Hey, would you like to come downstairs with me?  I’d like to show you something you might like.”
“Downstairs?”  The lower level of the club held bathrooms and a coatroom.
“Downstairs.  I work here.  There’s more to this club than the parts you’ve seen.”
She smiled, toyingly, stretching out her legs to help remind Dev of them, as if he needed that. 

The percentage of Dev’s mind that felt there was something sketchy about this scenario was completely bulldozed.  Even had Kerri not been the perfect vision of sexuality he would have accepted.  This was exactly the type of distraction he was longing for.  In his present mood, he didn’t really care what ulterior motive there might be.  Besides that, he trusted Kerri, stupid as that sounded, and he was confident enough of his judge of character to lean on it this much.  Besides besides, he would never forgive himself if he didn’t accept the invitation.

So to the back of the coatroom they went, Dev enjoying the view as he walked a few steps behind.  Kerri produced a key which opened a door behind a humorously vast array of black coats, and let them into a very small room.  There was a door at the far end, and the door they had come through, and one wall was covered with pegs on which rested perhaps a hundred sets of metal cuffs, wrist-cuffs, thumb-cuffs, and larger ankle-cuffs. 
“Unfortunately,” Kerri started, “or perhaps, fortunately, house rules require every male past this point to remain cuffed while in The Back.” She pronounced the capitals. “As soon as we get where we’re going I can unlock them, okay?”
Dev hesitated, but only so as not to seem overeager.  “Okay.”
“Turn ‘round.”

Dev did so, and he felt Kerri press her body against his side and the click of a hinged pair of cuffs close around his wrists.  In short order she found his thumbs and they too, were introduced to steel.  Ankle cuffs followed seconds behind as Kerri displayed expertise at Cuffing, which was an activity that Dev  didn’t know one could particularly have expertise in.
All six rings of metal were perfectly set, so they didn’t hurt, nor was he going to escape anything.  “There,” she said, turning him to face her, pressing her body against his, with enough pressure to feel the bulge in his pants, again.  Her eyes flickered in that direction, a smile played at her lips, her eyes vital as a hummingbird, “Ready?” 
She stood close enough for him to smell that her bubblegum still had bubblegummy flavor.
“Follow, okay?  I don’t want to lose you,” she said cheerily, abruptly turning and unlocking the far door.  Dev clinked along behind her.

They walked through a grouping of hallways and doors.  The chain restricting his ankles was long enough not to slow him down much.  They turned to a hallway with four doors on the right.  They entered the first one, and Kerri locked the door behind her as they entered a luxurious room which featured a Jacuzzi full of green goo.  The air was dry and warm.
Kerri summoned a keyring from somewhere on her body and set about releasing Dev without ado. 

“Tell me about this place, is it one of those underground fetish hideaways you read about in kinky fiction?” said Dev, staring at the pool of goo.
Kerri stood nearby, casual.  “Yes.”
“What about the pool of goo?”
“That one?”
“Um, yeah that one,” smiled Dev. 
“It requires a drumroll to really be announced properly, but anyway its the latest in latex bondage technology,” she said loudly, then followed in an aside, “we don’t have a proper name for it, yet.  We’re presently calling it the Green Pile of Goo.”
“That’s nice. Got a certain ring to it.  What does it do?”
“Would you like to try it?” she countered.
“How do I know this isn’t some kind of trap?” Dev asked.

Kerri pursed her lips, “Its not just some kind of trap, its a technologically advanced kind of trap.  Aren’t traps what you’re into?”
Dev thought about this.  “How do I know its not a malicious trap?” he revised.
“Well, I’ve already had you pretty thoroughly cuffed up.  That could have been a malicious trap, but it wasn’t.  So you can either trust me on this one, too, or go back upstairs.  I will have to cuff you if you go back upstairs, though, so you’d better hope that I don’t want to maliciously trap you, huh?”
“Okay, I want to try it.”
“Cool,” said Kerri, “take your clothes off.  Yes, all of them” she added with no hesitation.  There was a computer in one corner of the room, which Kerri sat down at and started clicking the mouse.

Dev looked around, looked at Kerri, and decided he was sticking with his previous priority.  If he didn’t do this he would never forgive himself.  He stripped.
“Now what?” He asked.
“Be right with you.”  Said Kerri, and walked over to him carrying a lampshade.
Dev felt he add asked a number of questions already and decided to forego the next obvious one.  He assumed he would find out shortly what the hell the lampshade was for.

Kerri placed it snugly around his neck, its wide brim fanning upwards, like the cones vets use on dogs to keep them from licking at wounds, only higher quality.  She had lost the gum, and appeared much more clinical without it.  There was the serious aura of the orderly about her now.

“Absolute last chance to back out of this is now, Dev,” more as if delivering trivia than offering to about-face.  “Step into the pool.  It’ll be comfortably hot and it’ll go up to your knees or so.”
It was slimy and thick, like honey but without the feeling of stickiness.  Butterflies were waking in his stomach but he tried to keep his tone light.  “This feels like a hazing ritual or something.”
“That might make the world’s first frat worth joining,” returned Kerri, her preoccupied lips turning upward slightly.  She had returned to her station at the computer after placing the lampshade.  “Face upward for me.  Little bit less.  Good.  I’m going to push this button and you are sinking into the goo.  Just relax.  Stand naturally, but stay still.  Stay perfectly still.  Do Not Move.  Keep your head at exactly that angle.”

There was a faint hum but the ride was smooth, like the elevator at a five-star hotel.  He was immersed so that the top of the lampshade was an inch or so above goo-level.  “Don’t forget to stay still!” called her voice from by the computer.  The top of his head was just below ground level.  Dev couldn’t see much more than ceiling.  As the descent ended the hum stopped.
“Okay, then,” Kerri’s content expression came into view as she came to stand next to him, completely above him.  She paused for a moment, then said, quietly, “like the view?”
Dev didn’t have to respond.  His eyes answered, hungry and moist like the panting tongue of a wolf. 
“I bet you do,” said Kerri, then hesitated, and squinted her eyes unpleasantly as she looked at the foot of her boot. 
“Oh, God,” she exclaimed, suddenly impersonating a southern belle, “somehow a streak of lip stick got on my boot.  Could you possibly take care of that for me?”  Her eyes pleaded as the dipped her foot within the radius of his tongue.
Dev was quite sure that this was in fact heaven, and didn’t want to mess anything up.  He did his best ventriloquist routine, “Is it okay to move now?”
Her eyes pegged his like pins on a butterflies wings.  “You can try.”

So he tried, and you know what happens now.  Go back to the opening paragraphs of these pages if you forgot.  Dev was most amazed at first at his ignorance of the transformation into complete paralysis below the neck.  There was absolutely nothing to be done.  He tried jumping out of the goo.  Nothing.  He tried applauding.  Nothing.  He tried the sound of one hand clapping.  He tried wiggling toes.
He was double jointed, he could bend the tip of his index finger without bending the middle joint.  He tried that out.  Nope. 
After turning what he could of his neck about once or twice, he looked up at her, and the high started from his chin and neck, as if his blood had discovered a recipe to outdo ecstasy, the euphoria spread down his body as he fell in love with the moment of immobility.  He tried again to break free, straining and stretching, attempting to bore into or defeat in any way the incredibly solid goo.

He felt the state of his erection, apparently frozen in motion, sticking out  roughly perpendicular to his body  The soft pressure against the very tip, restricting him and torturing him with soft, helpless pressure.
“Oh, are you stuck?” Her voice was sweet as chocolate truffle (the really expensive kind). 
The shiny boot was still waiting, and he had little choice but to lap at the ‘accidental’ streak of lipstick across the toe.  He felt the ridges of her toes against the boot, imagined the imprint of the fishnet material against her small foot, and dedicated himself to his work, which both did and didn’t taste like strawberry in that way that only lipstick manages to do. 
He finished all too quickly and, red-faced, inquired as to the state of her other boot, for symmetries’ sake. 

“That’ll do for now, but Thanks for the offer,” she said as she squatted down above him, most unlady-like.  Dev wished suddenly that he had a second, perhaps even a third pair of eyes with which to soak her in, the taut corset, her doughy but intelligent eyes, and presently, he could see from her posture that she saw panties as optional and was a very thorough shaver. 
“Anytime,” he muttered, amazed at her casual assurance of total control.
 

01/03/02