© Copyright 2002 - Hazard - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/f; D/s; latex; gag; corset; punish; toys; mast; reluct; X
I cannot speak.
The ring behind my teeth holds my jaws wide apart, its strap, tight around my head, pulling my lips back into a wide unmoving grin.
I cannot see.
Shaped latex covers are glued over my eyes revealing only a vague pink glow when I am in bright light.
I cannot walk unaided.
Thigh-length leather 9” heeled ballet boots are laced snugly over my smooth latex stockinged legs, allowing only a slight bend at the knees. Silver cuffs wrap around my ankles and clasp my legs above my knees, joining them together with 6” silver chains.
I cannot write.
I cannot move my arms, my hands or even my fingers. They are encased in glossy latex gloves that are glued firmly to my equally smooth latex body suit.
I cannot nod or shake my head.
I am wearing a perfectly fitting translucent hood that covers my gaping mouth and disappears beneath the strict posture collar that holds my neck and head motionless.
I can barely breathe.
Two small holes at my nostrils permit me to take the small breaths that are all i can manage because of the cruelly tight corset that presses against my stomach and forces my breasts to swell their latex covering above it.
I cannot rest.
Deep inside me are two machines that vibrate and swell and pulse, bringing me to the precipice of overwhelming orgasm, only to become silent and still before i can reach it. Again and again they excite me, their tiny wires sending gentle shockwaves through my clitoris and anal ring, their balloons inflating in pulsing jerks, filling me to bursting and leaving me empty in sometimes fast, sometimes slow cycles. Their sensors defeat my attempts to disguise my readiness. Each time i struggle to reach my climax and each time they subside before my release comes.
I cannot cry.
My sealed eyes permit no tear to fall. My sobs are muffled by my mask. I long to bury my face in my hands, to touch my abused sex and bring release, to loosen the tight corset that makes me dizzy and faint when the machines make me gasp in excitement and frustration.
My Mistress visits me twice a day. With loving hands, She removes the machines. Gently, She helps me to my feet, steadies me as i struggle to stay upright on the pinpoint heels and toes of my boots as I shuffle to the bathroom to relieve myself. She cleans me when i am done and helps me back to my bed. She slides a tube through the tiny valve in my face mask and i help to guide it, swallowing its end until She can push it down into my throat. I feel warmness as the soupy liquid pours down it into my stomach but i can taste nothing but the plastic tubing. She carefully extracts the tube, letting the valve close behind it.
Whenever She is with me, She murmurs softly, almost crooning, comforting me with Her love. She strokes my latex-covered body, kisses my face, lets Her shiny gloved fingers play with my sex, the only part of me that is unclad. I ache to touch Her, to kiss Her, to see Her, to tell Her that i love Her, that i understand why She is punishing me.
Occasionally, She is unable to stop Herself. Her smooth fingers keep playing, Her lips keep kissing my cheeks, my breasts. She knows She should stop, that it is wrong. But whether out of Her own desire or some inner weakness, She feels me rising and continues until i explode inside my cocoon. I can feel from the desperation in Her lips and fingers that She too is climaxing. She holds me tight until our shuddering subsides.
When She has finished, She guides the two machines back inside me, clipping the wires to my hypersensitive skin. Then She is gone. I feel her hand brush over me as She goes, leaving an immense aching void behind her. I am alone again.
I do not know how long i have lain here. I tried to keep a count of Her visits but it is so hard to think, to remember. I try to recall before. There must have been a before. I cannot have been born like this. Yet i see only tiny, dim images of the past as though through a long dark tunnel.
I do not know how long i shall remain here.
My crime, my oh so foolish crime, was unimaginable. I stupidly, insanely, for no possible reason at all, tried to leave my Mistress. My stupidity is unfathomable. How i could not have felt, understood, drowned in the love my Mistress feels for me is beyond my comprehension now.
This is why i am so grateful for my punishment.
As i lie here recovering from one unbearable frustration and awaiting the onset of the next, aching so terribly for my Mistress's voice, Her touch, Her love to surround me, i understand to the depth of my soul that i am loved as deeply as a Woman can love Her slave.
I understand that life without that love is no life. I understand that She must go on punishing me to prove Her love, to make me know that this is not a game, not a weekend romance, a casual affair, but deep eternal love.
I understand, as my Mistress understands, that to release me now would cheapen our love.
I do not know how long i shall remain here.
Even as my love grows stronger, i feel my body and my mind weaken. The time will surely come when my strength will be gone and i will fail my Mistress. I will not go easily. I will prove my love for Her as long as i can. Her love gives me strength beyond my body’s abilities.
Oh God, they’re starting