Gromets Plaza - Latex Stories
The Pinball Queen
by Ataraxia
ataraxia@rubberist.net
© 2001 Ataraxia - Used by permission.
storycodes: M/f; latex; statuary; cons; X

In addition to being lifestyle Rubberists, my husband, Bob, and I are "restrained" exhibitionists.  We like to wear all kinds of erotic latex gear and dildoes under street clothes and then go out to dinner, shopping or other places. We get a thrill knowing that people can look right at us without being aware that we are being erotically stimulated.

 We had given each other a small padlock and a silver neck chain on our wedding night. We would "lock" each other into some sort of latex garment and keep the key to the other's padlock on the chain around our necks. Bob could not remove his rubber garments until I allowed him to, and vice versa. We made beautiful love to each other for hours this way. It was a lot of fun and didn't hurt anyone.

We had been sitting in the bar, watching the patrons arrive, drink and then depart into the wintry night for quite a while. The dildo-equipped catsuit I had been wearing that evening under my tight spandex body suit, leather vest and jeans was a constant stimulation that kept me maddeningly horny. I could feel my juices dribbling down my legs, making the latex slippery. Every movement caused the dildo to slip in or out of my pussy slightly. Bob had been wearing his catsuit under his street clothes and was probably just as horny. With his electric penis stimulator randomly flashing on and off all evening, I'm sure he had been hard the whole time, too.

A number of young fellows had been excitedly playing the noisy pinball machine that stood about six feet away from our table. They had been keeping track of their scores on a blackboard and were obviously in the heat of an impromptu tournament.

Listening to the chink, chink, clang of the pinball machine, a delicious idea popped into my mind. I leaned over to my husband and whispered in his ear whimsically "I'll bet you an extra intense, extra long session of heavy latex bondage that I can beat the winner". I smiled at him mischievously.

He looked at me, stunned. "At pinball?" he exclaimed. "Michelle, I didn’t know you even knew how to play it! " he puzzled. "Sure, I can't lose on this one. You're on!"

I smiled. "Prepare yourself for some heavy rubber bondage, Bob", I said whimsically. "When I was in college I used to 'clean up' with pinball. I never had to buy my own drinks and I bought many of my textbooks with the money I had won from it. I was a regular pinball hustler. I'd challenge the guys to a set of games and they'd think I'd be a pushover because I was a girl. I'd let them win a few games and some money from me but would subsequently increase the bet. Then, when the bet was right, I'd beat the pants off of them. I got so good at it that after a while I became known as the Pinball Queen! My friends even gave me a 'Pinball Queen' trophy! I've still got it. I think it's up in the attic somewhere."

By now, the boys had been playing long enough that a clear winner was emerging among them. I walked over to him and whispered my challenge. "Give me three practice games to get the feel of the machine and then I will beat you!"  Predictably, his young male ego could not resist the challenge. They never can.

During my practice sets it became apparent to me that this was one of those really quirky old machines. There were almost imperceptible wear spots that would unpredictably disrupt the normal path of the ball. The bounce springs were very old and repelled the ball unpredictably. This was a very tricky machine and would take some getting used to. The boys, who had been playing it all evening, had a distinct advantage over me. Still, I felt confident that I could win.

Perhaps it was because I hadn't played pinball in years. Or maybe the random vibrator of my dildo kicked on at just the wrong moment and screwed up my shot. The distraction of the delicious, slippery latex on my body may have been a factor, too. Or, it could have been that tricky old machine. Maybe the guy I played against was really too good for me. Maybe it was all of these things. I lost the match. Not by much, mind you, but just enough to lose my $20. It was just enough for Bob to win the bet.

When I returned to the table Bob was gleaming. "Don’t worry, my love, you'll be a Pinball Queen again…and I will make love to you like no man has ever done to any woman before," he said.

It was getting late and both of us were incredibly horny from all those hours of stimulation by the latex under our street clothes. It was time to go home. Nothing further was said about the bet. I figured he'd have me pay up by doing something fairly benign thing like our usual bondage play or wear my suit a little longer than usual. In a few days I forgot the incident completely.
 
 

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Chap 2

"Tonight we're going to do something really different", Bob exclaimed. "Let's start by putting on your catsuit".

The catsuit was of heavy black latex with attached open-face hood, feet and gloves. It was, of course, fitted with a vibrator dildo. All of my latex things have dildoes or stimulators of some kind. I'd worn that catsuit several times a week since we bought it. Bob had one just like it. Both of us had many others, too. As lifestyle Rubberists we slept in them, played in them, washed the dishes while wearing them and even went out to dinner in them dozens of times. Hell, we'd even mowed the lawn more than once with them on. These suits are part of us and the vehicle by which we make love to each other. What's 'different' about this time, I wondered.

Still, as I slipped the familiar suit on a thrill shot through my whole body. There is nothing like the erotic feel of latex against the raw skin of a true fetisher like I am. Then when the tip of the lubricated dildo touched the lips of my sex, I felt the early twinges of an anticipated orgasm. My pussy knew what to expect from this device from long experience with it! I sucked in my breath as pushed it deep inside my body. Bob then helped me pull on my opera-length latex gloves, fit the black rubber open-face hood over my head and zipped up the back of my suit. I looked in the full length mirror to see myself entirely covered in shiny black latex. It felt great. How I love being a fetisher…! Rubberists are the most sensuous people in the world! When Bob helped me put this suit on, he was truly making love to me like no other man in the world!

"OK, you know the routine, Bob. You have to put your suit on, too" I said. Bob loved latex, too. This is how I made love to him. I helped him put his suit on. Then I zipped him up.

After a passionate embrace, we each produced a special little padlock and locked the other's suit with them. As always, the key to the other's lock was on the silver chain around each of our necks. Neither of us would be able to take our suit off until the other was ready for us to do so! This little locking ceremony was an expression of our love for each other by making our latex fetishes as pleasurable as possible. Few people on earth can fathom fetish love like this. It is very special to us.

Bob then handed me one of my other latex hoods--the one with only breathing tubes for my nose and mouth and clear plastic lenses over my eyes. I pulled it down over my head and inserted the soft inflatable rubber gag mounted inside of it into my mouth. Bob attached the little hand pump to the fitting at my mouth and inflated the gag so that it filled my mouth, but not to the point of discomfort. Then he detached the pump and asked if I was OK. After adjusting the hood a bit and testing my nose and mouth breathing tubes, I responded by saying the "mmmffg" sound which is my standard "gag-speak" word for "I'm OK".

Next, Bob got down on his knees and removed the little screw cap on my suit at my crotch. The two old batteries from my previous session with the vibrator inside me fell out. "I've found a new kind of extra long life batteries the other day. Let's see if they are an improvement," he said. He slipped the two new batteries up into the dark hole at my pussy and lovingly replaced the screw cap. The vibrator inside of me sprang to life and I caught my breath as the first pangs of stimulation hit me. Bob was an engineer and had designed this "high tech" dildo himself. It contained sophisticated microchip circuitry to provide vibration of random duration and intensity as well as a thrusting motion. He could even connect it to his computer to "program" it before I put it on to make it do various things to me at different times. The vibrating stopped after a few seconds--it was already beginning to "play" with me. There were times when I swore it "knew" I was about to orgasm and would stop, just to titillate me. Like my suit, this little fellow of rubber, motors and batteries (I affectionately called him "Sparky") had become part of my way of life. It was another expression of Bob's love for me.

Then came the first surprise. From under the bed Bob retrieved a large box which bore the name of a sporting goods store. "Here' put this on". How many times had I heard that command before? It was my favorite!

Judging from the weight of the box I expected to find another latex suit. Bob always "presented" my newly arrived catsuits and other latex apparel this way. I opened the box. Inside was a wet suit--the kind worn by scuba divers. It was made of a very thick grade of black neoprene foam that had been covered with a fabric. It was like every other black wetsuit I had seen.

I slipped the high-waisted wetsuit pants on. They glided easily over the smooth surface of my latex catsuit. Then came the upper half and the gloves. The hood, however, was not "standard scuba". It was a "custom item" that Bob had re-engineered to cover my face completely except for holes for my eyes and the breathing tubes to my nose and mouth. It all fitted very snugly. The thickness of the wetsuit was particularly noticeable. I felt protected--almost as if I was in a, er…, well a "bullet proof" suit of some sort. I also noticed how warm I felt. I immediately understood how cold it must be deep underwater and why scuba divers wear these things.

"OK, Michelle, now let's put on your old green catsuit over this", Bob said.

Hmmmmm. Bob often had me wear several layers of latex but I did not understand this. I had to wonder what he was leading up to. And why the old green suit? This catsuit was of very thin latex and was very old. It had been torn many times and amateurishly patched with small scraps of various colors and odd shapes of latex. It looked ridiculous. I had not worn it in a couple of years. I don't know why we had not thrown it out long ago.

As always, Bob powdered the suit and helped me put it on. This was full cover suit with attached feet gloves and hood. It took some effort to fit the thin gloves over the bulky gloves of the wet suit. When we finally got it on, I was completely covered in soft green latex except for the opening around my face. I could feel the thickness of the three layers of rubber over every inch of my body restraining my movement somewhat.

"Let's go out to the garage now", Bob commanded. He had been doing something out there all afternoon and would not let me peek. I had heard saws and pounding hammers. He was up to something! I was brimming with curiosity over what he'd been up to. "Here it comes…" I thought to myself. Just then, "Sparky" kicked in for a brief but intense moment. This was going to be a fun night!

In the middle of the garage there were a number of boxes and a large pan of water. The labels on the boxes indicated that they contained the stuff doctors use to create casts for broken arms and legs. I was a bit surprised at the number of boxes there. Knowing my husband, I could imagine what he had in mind to do with them… Yes, this would be an "interesting" night!

"Remember when you bet me you could beat those guys at pinball last winter?" Bob asked. I nodded. "Well, we're going to begin the bondage session you owe me. Tonight will only be preparatory. The real pay-back session will come later after you've had extensive training."

Training? Uh oh, that sounds ominous. However, I know that Bob really loves me so I'm sure it will be fun…

Bob opened one of the boxes and pulled out a long strip of plasterized gauze which he then dipped in the water. "OK, now I want you to postion your legs this way" he said as he moved my right leg slightly forward and bent my knee slightly. "OK, now hold that pose exactly as I apply the gauze.

He was going to put me into a full body cast!

He worked for a long time, carefully covering my arms, legs and torso with a very thick covering of the plaster-impregnated gauze. He seemed to have a very specific design for my pose in mind and was careful to make sure I had enough room to expand my chest for breathing. Eventually, I could not move any part of my lower body, my hands, fingers, toes. I was absolutely immobilized except for my breathing.

Before covering my head with the plaster gauze Bob put a set of earphones on my ears and connected the wires to the little voice-activated two-way radio. A microphone had been attached to my breathing tube. Bob then put on his headset-mounted walkie-talkie with its little boom microphone at his lips. Now, when either of us said anything (including my "gag speak" noises), it would be transmitted to the other's earphone. This enabled us to communicate with each other no matter where we were in the house.

Now only my face and ear area remained uncovered. "Are you OK with this" he asked in my earphones. "You'll be in here for a few hours. The insulation of the wetsuit will shield you from the heat the plaster generates as it sets. Except for your breathing, you won't be able to move at all--not in the slightest. I'll be monitoring to your breathing the whole time through the radio to make sure you're OK. This will probably be your most intense experience so far. Please try to see this through if you can but if you do run into any trouble or decide that you just can't handle this, you know the signal. I think you're going to love it, tho'. Last chance, my love, are you ready to do this?" He smiled as I said "mmmffg". Then there was total darkness and silence as he laid the wet plaster gauze over my face.

The breathing tubes were my only connection to the world outside my plaster tomb now. I could hear absolutely nothing except my own breathing. I don't think I've ever heard this kind of silence before. It was quite disconcerting, at first.

Suddenly "Sparky" kicked on at low intensity. It startled me a bit as it abruptly interrupted the utter silence of my thoughts. It seemed like Bob always started me out in "first gear" with Sparky and then slowly build up to a crescendo. But, much to my surprise, the vibrator stopped after a minute or so.

As the minutes began to drift by I could feel my mind begin to drift as the sensory deprivation of my tomb began to affect it. At first, the various aspects of my everyday life--what I did at work yesterday, what we needed to get at the grocery store--and other extremely mundane thoughts raced through my consciousness in a surreal kind of way. Gradually I began to relax and drift. The sound of my rhythmic breathing increasingly crept into the forefront of my mind. I could feel myself drifting backward, as if in a meditative state. Bob had talked about how sensory deprivation "trips" like this might be used to control, expand and prolong an erotic experience many times in the past, so I was not alarmed by it. I quickly lost all track of time. A minute could have easily been 20 seconds…or vice-versa.

Eventually, the mundane thoughts began to give way to the next stage of sensory deprivation. I began to feel a heightened awareness of the physical sensations of my entombment. Increasingly, I drifted "inward" where there was only the "now" of my situation. The sound of my breathing seemed to become louder. I felt the latex of the gag cramming the inside of my mouth and the silent dildo filling my pussy. Movement of any kind had been impossible and my mind was becoming adjusted to that. I began to focus on the feel the caress of latex fitting tightly over my entire body. I was becoming one with it. The warmth and aliveness of each square inch of it was becoming part of my whole being. I was becoming latex. I was drifting….drifting…

I gradually became aware of a slight vibration and pulsing at my pussy. Sparky had kicked on at a very low intensity that had been increasing ever so gradually, as if not to disturb me from my meditative state. My beloved Bob had done his homework about sensory deprivation! My pussy began to wake and merge with my state of heightened awareness of the latex that surrounded and caressed every inch of my body. I became my pussy, surrounded in latex and working, very, very slowly, toward a climax. Nothing else existed. All of my consciousness was focused on the feel of the latex and what it was doing to the part of my brain that is charge of sexual ecstasy. I just hoped that Bob had programmed the little vibrator to work non-stop.

With the increasing intensity of the experience I became aware, too, of a new heaviness in my breathing. While I had no difficulty in breathing normally, my chest began to push harder and harder against the confining plaster as I breathed more heavily with the approaching, though still distant orgasm. It seemed, too, that my awareness of the latex increased with each strained breath.

Sparky shifted into "second gear", sending a new level of excitement through my mind and body. As I breathed more heavily, my chest tried to expand more but was stopped by the plaster. The latex seemed to push against my skin even more so than before. This increasing sense of confinement in my tomb was not an unpleasant thing at all, but rather, further accentuated the building orgasm that was about to explode in me. God, Sparky, don't stop now!

Finally, Sparky slammed into "high gear" with a whole new intensity of vibration that I had not felt in previous sessions, or, at least, it seemed that way. It also began its thrusting action that seemed to push deeper inside my body with each stroke. That glorious feeling of hot, sweaty latex against hyper-sensitive skin covered every inch of my body. I was more alive than I had ever been before!

I finally exploded. I came so hard it hurt! For a brief moment I stopped breathing altogether as the orgasm rocked through every inch of my being. Then I felt my chest trying to heave heavily, slamming against the confining plaster in very rapid, shallow breaths as my body screamed for oxygen. Sparky kept going. The orgasms kept coming.

Finally, the explosion ended. I began to relax. The strong sensation of hot, sweaty, post-orgasm latex provided comfort to every inch of my body again. I had returned to the womb. My breathing slowly returned to normal. I felt like I wouldn't need to have sex again for the rest of my life. If I could have moved the muscles in my face, I would have smiled deeply.

I became aware of a tapping noise. It was Bob tapping on the plaster to see if I was OK. I blurted out a couple of "standard" grunting noises through the breathing tube in my gag to let him know that I was not only doing fine but was also "done". He tapped back his acknowledgement.

I began to hear high pitched grinding noises. Suddenly I could see again--Bob had removed the front half of the cast on my head. The noise I heard had come from the small electric saw device he held in his hand. It was the kind of saw doctors use to remove casts. It took some time to get me out of the rest of the cast because he wanted to preserve the "mold" of my body.

When the back half of the cast was finally removed he immediately he took the hoods from my head. He was smiling. "Was it good?" he asked with a giggle in his voice. I smiled at him but did not reply. My mind was still foggy and buzzing from the intensity of my orgasms. Much of my consciousness was still inside the plaster tomb. It would take a while for me to "return" to the real world. I lay there in the garage for a while, stretching my sore muscles and generally reorienting myself. "How long was I in there", I asked?

"About two and a half hours. That's good for your first training session", he replied.

"First session? Wow! What do you have in mind", I asked.

"Well, Michelle, if you remember correctly, the deal with you losing the pinball game was 'an extra long session of extra heavy latex bondage'", Bob replied as he began to help me take off the green catsuit, which had been ruined by the plaster. It came off in pieces. No wonder he had me wear it over the other suits. "I intend to get my money's worth! You're going to need a lot more training to do what I have in mind. That's why we're saving this plaster mold of your body that we just made. You'll be doing this again and again as part of your 'training'. Each time will be a little longer and with more orgasms. Eventually I'll have you fine tuned into The Orgasmic Pinball Queen!"

Orgasmic Pinball Queen? I had no idea of what he was talking about! "What does any of this have to do with pinball?

He winked at me and put on that mischievous little smile of his that tells me he's up to something that will be fun.

"Here, I'll help you take that hot wet suit off now, but let's keep our latex suits on for the rest of the night", Bob said. "Say, how are those new batteries holding out?"

Just then Sparky kicked on…
 
 

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Chap 3

My "training" progressed over several months and I was growing very fond being in the mold. Bob was clearly building toward some "event" for me. During the week we both attended a course on "meditative Arts" at our local college. Nearly every weekend we'd lock each other in our catsuits and then Bob would put me in my plaster cast. Each time he would add a half hour to my "training" time.

By the third month I was staying in my plaster mold for nearly a whole night at a time. Bob would put me in at sunset and I'd spend the whole night in it. He would sleep next to me on a cot in the garage. He'd tell me what had planned for next week or read erotic rubber stories to me through the little walkie talkie headset on his head from the bathroom, den or wherever he happened to be, but always close by. We'd share each other's orgasms through the sounds we made. Of course, he'd be locked in his catsuit the whole time and I would have the key to it on the chain around my neck, so we were actually making love to each other.

Bob had modified the mold to allow me to wiggle some of my fingers and had installed little switches in these places. A tube to my mouth would inject some drinking water when I wiggled one of my fingers. Another switch rang a buzzer to get Bob's attention if I ever needed it or I could tap out crude morse code to tell him something. Other switches allowed me to send coded messages to a "beeper" mounted in his "training suit" that allowed me to control the vibrator toys he was wearing.

He had also replaced my standard, everyday catsuit with a "training suit" that was better equipped for longer durations. It was a conventional latex catsuit with attached feet and gloves and hood but also had all sorts of complicated vaginal, anal, clitoral and nipple stimulators that used an external power supply and were directly connected to his computer. He also added a urinary catheter, small solenoids that would lightly pinch my nipples and a pump that would recirculate and cool the sweat that accumulated in my suit. All kinds of tubes and wires emanated from my catsuit now. I began to look like a Latex Astronaut! My training had become very sophisticated!

The meditation classes helped me develop an ability to use my mind to control and concentrate on my orgasms, tailoring them to the "whims" of various "sparkys" through which Bob made love to my body. Bob could program them to randomly give me short, highly intense orgasms or ones that would build up very, very slowly and then wound down just as slowly. He also gave me increasingly large number of short, random blasts of vibrations and plunging by the various devices. My mind training also allowed me to learn to enjoy these immensely, too. Bob's keyboard became an instrument of "orgasmic music"! Bob could "play" me. I was learning to make all of these stimuli more intense and enjoyable.

One day, when I was looking for something in the attic, I came across the old "Pinball Queen" trophy my friends had given me back in college. It was sitting on top of an old trunk as if someone else had recently been looking at it. I picked it up and examined it. Then it hit me… the pose of the figure in the trophy was identical to the pose Bob was training me in the plaster cast! I suddenly had an idea of what he meant when he said I would be a pinball queen again! What was he up to?
 
 

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Chap 4

Bob had taken several days off from work and was furiously working on something out in the garage again. He would not let me look to see what he was up to. Nor would he let me wear any latex during this time! As Friday night approached, I wondered what new "training device" he was building.

Bob took me out to an expensive restaurant for an unusually early dinner on Friday night. The fact that he still would not allow me to wear any latex told me that something was clearly up.

"Well, my dear", he exclaimed, offering up his wine glass for a toast, "tomorrow is show time! Tomorrow you will pay up on your little wager in the bar last winter". He smiled at me, lovingly. "And I promise that you will enjoy it." We clinked our glasses. He would not say anything more about it.

We had a nightcap of camomile tea and went to bed very early that night--it was bearly dusk! Bob went right to sleep. Soon I could feel the soothing sound of his snoring lulling me to sleep as well, even though my mind raced with thoughts of what could be in store for me tomorrow. The camomile tea did it's work--soon I was asleep.

Suddenly the alarm clock went off. It was still dark! In fact, it was only 3 a.m.! "OK, it's payback time", said Bob, winking at me as he smiled. "Let's have a quick breakfast and then get to work!"

I helped Bob put his "training" catsuit on, replaced his batteries and locked him in, keeping the key. He then cooked three eggs, bacon and toast for each of us and insisted that we eat all of it because we would need some good nourishment in our bodies. He then handed me an enema bag and told me to go into the bathroom, give myself a really good enema to 'clean myself out' and then take a short but thorough shower and brush my teeth while he did some other chores. Then I was to go to the kitchen completely nude and wait.

Thirty minutes later I was clean inside and out and waiting. Bob came in from the garage carrying my "training" suit. Several new tubes and wires had been added to it. As I began to slip my foot into one of the leggings, I realized that instead of powdering the latex with talc, he had coated the interior of the entire suit with a heavy layer of KY jelly. My pussy immediately became moist as I pushed my first foot into the suit and felt the highly lubricated latex against my skin. This was a new sensation and I really liked it! By the time we started to insert the dildoes, I almost came. Seeing this, Bob rubbed a large piece of ice on my back to abruptly 'change the subject'. "Oh no, not yet… we can't have you coming yet…" he said, playfully. I held my breath and did not come as we slowly inserted the vaginal dildoes and installed the clitoral stimulators.

It took quite a while to put the suit on. There were all kinds of little gizmos and gadgets that had to be mounted and installed on my body. Some items, such as the nipple clamp mechanism had to be glued to my body so they would not shift position later on. The urinary catheter was carefully put in place, telling me that I would be in this suit for quite a while. When Bob put the anal plug in place, I finally understood why had want me to clean myself out with the enema. There were wide variety of small devices and tubes attached to the exterior of the suit at my armpits, stomach, legs, arms and head. I was puzzled by what these might do.

Bob finally put the earphone over my ears and pulled the hood down over me head, carefully inserting the breathing and drinking tubes into my mouth and nose. The only holes in it were for my eyes. He inflated my gag and then detached the pump hose. Then zipped up the back of the suit, completely enclosing me in incredibly lubricated, shiny black latex. Next he glued a small strip of latex over the zipper to prevent any leakage from it. I looked in the mirror through the clear plastic lenses over my eyes. I was like something from NASA!

Next, Bob had me put the old wet suit on. He carefully routed the wires and tubes, poking their ends through strategically placed holes in the heavy foam. I felt "bullet proof" again!

As we walked into the garage I saw what looked like a statue. It was made of copper and was in the "training" pose I had come to know so well. It was a full-sized replica of my Pinball Queen trophy that was in the attic!

Bob walked over to the statue and removed pieces from the front half of it revealing a hollow shell. He had custom built this from my "training" cast. "Get in", he commanded. He smiled and then winked at me!

Of course! I was going to be the Pinball Queen again but this time as the trophy!

I stepped up on to the pedestal of the trophy and Bob helped my climb into the back half of the shell. Then he began to replace the pieces of front half of the shell, being careful to route the wires and tubes just so. Bob had placed a large, full length mirror in front of me so that I could see the whole operation through the clear plastic lenses of my suit.

It was a very tight fit but was exactly what my training for over so any weeks had prepared me for. I was immediately at home in my new role as a "trophy".

As Bob placed the various pieces of copper over me, he also placed a strip of what looked like asbestos between the rubber of the wet suit and where the seams of the metal would be. Then, much to my surprise, he lit his propane torch and began soldering the seams! The asbestos and the thickness of the wetsuit insulated me from the heat!

He gradually replaced the various pieces of the shell, soldering them together until only the faceplate remained. Then, using a grinder, he ground down the solder joints to make a smooth surface. Finally, he applied a heavy duty buffer and rouge to the surfaces to make then shine brilliantly. I was really beginning to look like the trophy in the attic as one monolithic piece of copper.

When Bob was finally satisfied with his "trophy" from the neck down, he spoke into his microphone and asked me if I was ready for the final phase--the faceplate. He put an earphone to his ear and I replied "mmmffg" to let him know it was OK to do so.

As he put the faceplate on I immediately noticed that there were several very small pinprick holes in the metal at my eyes. This allowed me to see just a bit of the outside world but were too small for anyone to see in. I could see Bob applying the torch to the seams of the faceplate. Then I heard the sound of the grinder and the swooshing of the buffer.

Bob then showed a spray can a clear gloss lacquer to me through the little spy holes and then began spraying me. A voice came to the earphone in my ear: "How are you doing, hon? The lacquer will help prevent the copper from oxidizing and keep you shiny and metalic-looking".

It was done! I was now the Pinball Queen again! From what little I could see in my mirror, I looked beautiful! Absolutely stunning! Bob had done a wonderful job with the copper. Even the faceplate showed attention to detail. One could carefully scrutinize this "trophy" and not get a hint that I was inside of it. Even the heat of my body would be masked by the insulation of the wetsuit. Bob was a genius!

But now the reality of my situation began to hit me. I was absolutely immobile and up on a pedestal in the garage. What would Bob do with me next? How long would he keep me in here? What fiendish plan does he have for all of those gizmos and gadgets he's got me connected to?

"MMmm MMmm MMmm" I said, which means 'I love you' in gagspeak. Bob smiled, kissed his finger and then touched it to my copper lips and replied, "Me too!".

"I finished a bit early, " Bob said, "would you like me to put something over your eye holes so you can doze a bit before we go," he asked. "Oh, I'll bet you're wondering where you could go dressed like this!" he said, tauntingly! "Well, you're a trophy! I gotta show you off to the world!" he said, with that wonderful look of mischief in his eye. "I have to let everyone see my Pinball Queen!". Then he threw a towel over my head to block out the light. It became pitch dark. I turned my attention to the latex tightly pressing against every inch of my body. I found that thick padding of the wetsuit allowed me to just barely wiggle some parts of my arms and legs--just enough to feel the highly lubricated latex gliding across my skin. Moving the eye of my mind down my body, I focused on the sensation I was feeling at each part of it.

Just then Sparky kicked on…

This was going to be a wonderful day!
 
 

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Chap 4
 
 

I was awakened from my reverie by a slight jarring. Something was happening. The towel was removed and I could see again.

Bob was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. I knew that under this he still had the catsuit on because I still had the key to it on the chain around my neck. He had opened the garage door and positioned our pickup truck in front of it. There was daylight. A old pinball machine much like the one back in the bar that night had been loaded onto one side of the bed of the truck. The tailgate was down and ramp provided a path from the floor of the garage onto the bed of the truck.

My god! Bob was going to take this "trophy" someplace along with a pinball machine!

Words cannot describe the sensation of being rolled across the floor and up the ramp onto the truck on the dolly wheels of the trophy pedestal! My sense of equilibrium felt the slight swaying caused by each bump and the change in angle of my center of gravity as Bob gently pushed me up the ramp. Yet my body could not move in response to any of this.

Finally, Bob had me in position and was securely tying his "trophy" down. I could see straight ahead, over the cab of the truck. The pinball machine was next to me. I still had no idea of where we were going.

"Is everything OK in there? The mall should be opening in an hour or so", asked the voice in my earphone. "Mmmffgg", I replied. I was ready. Mall? What mall?

Bob pulled out of the driveway and drove for a few minutes to a very large shopping mall located near our home. I could not see well, of course, but it looked as though he was driving around to the service entrance in the back of the mall. The truck stopped and soon I felt myself being "unloaded" from the truck. Then I found myself being wheeled down the main concourse, past shoe stores and other shops to a corner near a fountain in the central part of the mall. The only people around seemed to be the shopkeepers opening their stores and getting ready for the Saturday traffic.

Bob was, of course, wearing his headset radio with the little flexible microphone that extended from the earpiece to his mouth. He positioned me to be looking mostly at part of a wall in the corner. I could see part of the show window of an antique shop. There was a large clock in it. A few minutes later he came back into my view positioning the pinball machine I had seen on the truck.

"Can you see the action of the pinball machine and anyone who might be standing around watching it being played?", Bob asked through my earphone. "UUUUh" I replied, in the affirmative.

Bob was setting up some sort of display! Then I noticed that he was connecting some sort of cable from the pinball machine to my pedestal. Then he stepped up to the pinball machine, pulled the handle back and let the ball fly. I could faintly hear the clink, clink, clang of the machine in the earphone in my ear. Each time the ball hit one of the repellers, I felt some sort of a pleasant-feeling reaction coming from the various gizmos and gadgets in my suit. I was wired to the pinball machine!

"Did you feel that?" asked Bob? "UUUH" I replied.

"OK, my love, here is your situation. You are part of a display entitled 'A tribute to Michelle Piloter, Pinball Queen of 1983'. The sign invites people passing by the display to play a free game of pinball in your honor. Yes, I know this is insanely corny, but it will be fun for you. The pinball machine you see is connected to the devices in your suit. You have already felt the repellers. There are also vibrators, plungers, pinchers and anything else I could dream up. As the score of the game increases, the intensity of their various actions will also increase. The computer in the pedestal will introduce some randomness and also give you some periods of rest."

Bob cleared his throat and said, "The microswitches in the fingers of your gloves run your life support options. One will pump a little fresh water into your mouth if you need a drink. Others will give you a shot of KY jelly at your anus and pussy in case you need a little more lubrication. And there's one that will pump the sweat that accumulates in your feet through a cooler and back to the top of your head if you start getting too hot. You cannot, of course, control any of the little 'fun' devices in your suit but the switches at your thumbs go to a little transmitter that controls the plunging and vibrating of the ejaculator I have on under my suit. As I make love to you through my machine, you can make love back to me!"

"I will always be near at hand, listening, to you to make sure you are ok. If I should drop dead or something, I left a letter of emergency instructions with my brother, Nick, to rescue you. You'll be here until 9 p.m. when the mall closes. You can see what time it is from the clock in the window of the antique store--just hope they don't sell it today!" Bob gleamed as he spoke.

"And, oh yes, I'll bet you an extra intense, extra long session of heavy latex bondage that you will use the safeword to call it quits before the mall closes at nine o'clock!" Bob grinned as he said that and winked at me. "Agreed?"

I knew I could do this--I had been training for it and had discovered that I could endure much more than I ever thought I could. I had, in fact, learned to love it. I felt that no one on this earth could have as good sex I can now. I responded with an emphatic affirmative "Uhhh". The bet was on!
 
 

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Chap 5

My view of the mall through the tiny pinprick holes at my eyes was very narrow and Bob had positioned me so that most of my gaze was on the pinball machine itself. The clock in the window now said 9 o'clock am. I began to see people milling about. The mall had opened for business now.

Bob stepped up to the pinball machine and asked in the microphone, "Mind if I have the first game, Your Highness"? I grunted my affirmation into my breathing tube for to hear.

As Bob pulled back the plunger that launched the first ball, I braced myself in anticipation of what might come. I could see the ball going up the entry chute on the right hand side. Then, as it began to descend down into the main game area, it began hitting the two little round, spring loaded central "repellers" that would thrust the ball outward. With each thrust there was a little "kachink" sound in my ear. I also felt a slight pleasant sensation at each of my nipples corresponding to one of the repellers. I also noticed another mild vibration at my pussy and anus as Bob operated the corresponding left and right hand "flippers" at the bottom of the board that would send the ball back up to the top. As the ball banged back and forth against the edges of the board and the various obstacles in it's path, I noticed a variety of pleasant, though surprisingly subdued sensations on various parts of my body.

At first I was a bit disappointed because, knowing my husband as well as I do, I had expected much more intensity from the devices. This was going to be easy to take. But then I remembered that their intensity would increase with the score of the game.

As Bob played the game I started to realize that he was really pretty good at it. He was still on his first ball and the score had already risen to nearly 100,000 points. (Apparently the inventor of the game liked large numbers!) The sensations of the various devices were becoming more noticeable and I was starting to become aroused. I could feel myself getting wet against the latex at my pussy.

Bob was one of those people who would nervously flip the flippers at the bottom of the board even though the ball was in play at the other end. As the score got higher, I noticed that, in addition to the vibrations, each flip of the flipper would also cause the dildoes in my pussy and anus to be plunged inward and outward with increasing intensity. I made a point to respond to him by banging my thumbs against the microswitches in my gloves that controlled his ejaculator.

By the time Bob was on his third ball I was getting very seriously aroused! The placement of the devices on my body corresponded with their location on the pinball machine board. Those near the top of the board operated small air bladders, vibrators and solenoid-driven "thumpers" at my neck and upper chest. The two circular, central repellers near the top of the game board operated solenoid-driven clamps that would pinch my nipples with pressures based on the current score of the game. Some actions on the pinball machine resulted in the rapid inflation or deflation of small balloon-like bladders against my armpits, breasts and many of the softer places on my body, producing a very odd, but nevertheless erotic sensation. In addition to vibrations and well lubricated plunging actions, the two dildoes and my mouth gag were also subject to rapid inflation and deflation. More air bladders and vibrators were at my navel and waist area, corresponding to the obstacles and repellers in the lower part of the game board.

By the time Bob was playing his fourth ball, his score had reached 700,000 and all of the devices in my suit were almost at full blast. I began to feel as if I was the pinball game, itself. I could feel the ball moving up and down, as if my body was the game board and Bob was playing the ball inside of it. The nipple clamps were closing and opening around my nipples with increasing pressure and speed. As I came closer and closer to orgasm, I became acutely aware of my confinement within the trophy and the press of delicious latex over virtually every square inch of my body. I could not move an inch as my body was stimulated all over, and I loved it! I continued to work the switches at my thumbs.

I could tell from Bob's eyes that he was getting caught up in the heat of the game, too. In addition to the excitement of the game, itself, he knew he was also making love to me with every "ka-ching" or "clang" of the ball and flip of the flippers! I could imagine him sweating in his catsuit and squirming as I pounded the lever in my glove that controlled his ejaculator! I was making love to him, too. We had worked long and hard for this moment!

Just as I could see the signs of orgasm in his face, my whole body exploded with its own orgasm. I screamed into my gag, but no one could hear me except Bob. It was so explosive I thought the jerking and contortions of my body would surely burst open the copper casing and reveal the human inside the trophy to a stunned audience of bystanders. My chest beat against the inside of my copper-clad confinement as my lungs begged for air. Fortunately, Bob's solder joints held well but I began to have doubts as to whether I'd have the stamina to endure this until the mall closed. I would be reduced to a pile of "orgasmic jelly" by noon!

I felt a shower of sweat dripping from my brow, down my face and into my neck area, making the latex even more slippery and alive. Bob had his eyes closed as he felt his own explosion. Now he was gasping for air while trying to maintain his public composure. He looked up at me and smiled. "I love you", he said, quietly, into the microphone.

"MMmm MMmm MMmm" I replied. I love you, too, Bob.

Every part of my body was tingling from the orgasm and the tight confinement of the latex pressed inward by the tight-fitting copper outer shell`. Now all I wanted to do was to relax and sink into a reverie and bask in this wonderful feeling. But, as Bob stepped back from the game, a half-dozen young people gathered around the machine. They had seen the sign offering "a free a game of pinball" and were anxious to try it out.

From that moment on, all of the devices Bob had planted in my suit were in constant use. He made love to me through his "infernal machine" for the rest of the day. Every "clang", "ding" or "thunk" from the pinball machine caused some vibrator to turn on briefly, a thump to be felt somewhere on one of the soft muscular areas of my body, or the plungers in my pussy and anus to move in or out, all causing pleasure.

It was almost as if I had become the pinball machine! Every part of my body and mind was focused on being a sexual machine driven by the game! No other reality existed--only sensual pleasure and mind-numbing orgasms that Bob was giving me! I knew that he was a very creative person but he should certainly get the Academy Award for Best Lover with the Best Erotic Special Effects!

As the day progressed I fell into the routine. I began to anticipate that certain actions on the game board would produce a predictable reaction in one of the devices in my suit. Some of my muscles began to ache from duration of my confinement, unable to move in the trophy. There seemed to be no end to the number of people who would line up to play the pinball machine. The constant barrage of orgasms exhausted me. I made sure that Bob had his share, too!

As Bob had promised, the computer allowed me several rest periods. During these times all of my "devices" would fall quiet and the earphone carrying the pinball machine noises to my ear would be turned off. I would push the buttons on my hand to drink some water, cool off and then drift into deep mediation or even sleep. These periods rejuvenated me immensely and helped me remain focused on orgasms and pleasure.

It was now approaching closing time for the mall, and I had been confined in my "trophy" for nearly 17 hours, far longer than my longest training session. All throughout the day Bob had been checking in over the radio in my earphone to make sure that I was OK and whispering encouragement for me to "Hang in there, baby". Wave after wave of people had taken their turns at the pinball machine and had, unwittingly, given me pleasure with their games. It had been a wonderful, though thoroughly exhausting day of love-making that I would never forget. It occurred to me that, for years to come, the mere mention of "pinball" would probably send a blast of warmth to my heart and a playful twinge to my pussy because of this day. Few people are capable of even imagining love-making of this depth and duration. I felt so lucky that Bob and I had found each other.
 

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