© Copyright 2009 - Hightied - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/m+; D/s; latex; maid; bond; vacbed; display; pet; mast; cons; X
"The only way to eliminate temptation is to yield to it," - Oscar Wilde
"They say her name is Pandora," Kevin said with a half smile. "And she specializes in the kinkiest stuff you can imagine."
The ice in Kevin's glass sparkled in the strobelights of the strip club as he drank.
"What kind of stuff?" Mark asked as nonchalantly as possible, considering he had to yell into Kevin's ear to be heard over the throbbing music.
"Whips, chains, leather. You name it. She does it," Kevin yelled back.
"Here! In our fair city?" Mark asked with a sarcastic grin.
"Yup! Can you believe it?"
Mark sipped his own drink while he pondered. Of course, he'd heard of high end prostitutes in the big cosmopolitan cities. Every so often, the newspapers overflowed with the deviant scandals of their rich and famous clients. Mark just never imagined that such strange things happened so close to home.
Over the rim of his glass, Mark looked up at tonight's special guest dancer. She had by far the kinkiest act that he'd ever seen locally. She wore a shiney black latex maid's uniform, complete with a skintight facemask. The painted smile and staring eyes gave her the dazed look of a lifesized doll. She was incredibly limber, but she danced stiffly, like a robot. As she removed each layer of rubber clothing, she gradually revealed that beneath the maid's costume, her entire body was covered in skintight, flesh colored latex. Black lines circled each joint to accentuate her doll-like appearance. Eventhough her breasts and pussy remained completely covered by blank, beige rubber, the audience did not seem disappointed by her kinky "striptease" act.
The rubber maid's performance had turned tonight's conversation toward kink and fetish. Sometimes, Kevin enticed Mark and some of his co-workers to a local strip club at the end of a hard week. Kevin was a salesman from one of their suppliers. Apparently this was his idea of wining and dining a major customer. Over the past year, Mark and Kevin had even become poker partners and drinking buddies outside of work. Unlike the seedy salesman, Mark always seemed like a clean-cut all-American-boy-next-door. Maintaining this wholesome image was extremely difficult with a gleeming latex goddess cavorting just a few feet away. Her ass looked flawless, hard and tight. The rubber adhered to every curve and line. Mark longed to caress her butt cheeks in awe. They must feel so smooth and slick. The stripper was almost within arm's reach, but, with Mark's co-workers sitting nearby, she may as well have been on the far side of the moon.
Had Kevin noticed Mark's gaze lingering on this particular dancer? Is that why he had started talking about Pandora?
"Supposedly, she lives in this big mansion," Kevin continued. "Every room is crammed with cages, racks, stocks and all sorts of dungeon equipment. And she keeps all these people locked up night and day."
"It sounds like an urban legend, Kevin."
"No. Seriously. My brother-in-law is a metro vice cop. He swears it's true."
Mark searched Kevin's face in vain for any sign that he was joking.
"Then why doesn't your brother-in-law, the cop, arrest Pandora?"
"Something to do with consenting adults." Kevin said with a grimace. "Behind closed doors you can do whatever you want, no matter how sick it is. It's not illegal if no money changes hands."
"What do you mean 'no money changes hands?' What kind of prostitute is that?"
"Pandora's not a prostitute - at least not anymore. She's just a really rich woman that knows how to get her kicks," Kevin said putting his drink down.
The music abruptly stopped. The rubber maid froze in mid-action. Bent over slightly, one of her arms swung loosely from her elbow like a pendulum. She seemed to finish her dance by staring straight at Mark, with her head cocked to one side in a silent question. Mark stared back with wide-eyed embarassment. Unsure whether to react to the doll character, or the person within the costume, he just smiled at her nervously until the stage lights faded to black.
Later that night, Mark snuggled on the couch with his girlfriend Debbie. Their favorite late night talkshow still played on the TV, but they weren't watching. As usual, Debbie had fallen asleep before the end of the monologue, and Mark stared into the darkness deep in thought. Today, he had seen a vision of latex beauty. He had learned about a local dominatrix who could make his lifelong dreams come true. Yet those dreams were no closer to reality now than they were yesterday.
Mark had craved to pump Kevin for more information about Pandora at the strip club. However, he could not think of any way to subtly ask more questions without raising suspicions. If anyone at the office ever found out about Mark's kinky side, he'd be finished. Over the years, he had only confided his submissive fetishes to several long-term girlfriends. Their reactions had ranged from lukewarm to disgusted. Debbie, here, had actually been the most receptive.
Mark gently stroked Debbie's long red hair. His girlfriend was just a soft fuzzy ball of sleepiness on his lap. She looked so cute with her face relaxed. Unfortunately, her idea of domination was just being on top during sex. She couldn't tie him up without giggling, and he could easily escape. Mark was quite fond of Debbie, but she wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. He could never trust her with the life-threatening situations that he craved. Debbie went to pieces in a crisis. It wasn't her fault. It was just her nature.
Mark had nursed his dark fantasies in secret for half a lifetime. During several stages of his life, he had even renounced his fetishes as crazy, dangerous and impossible. He would not pursue them for years at a time. However, no matter what he did, the same irrational longings eventually returned. They were an itch that had to be scratched. He finally realized that he would never outgrow these urges. Never. Yet, it seemed like his whole life might pass without satisfying them.
That idea broke Mark's heart.
Mark gently escaped from beneath his sleeping girlfriend. The move elicited several pathetic little coos, but she did not wake. Leaving her on the livingroom couch, Mark groped carefully into his bedroom and turned on his computer. The monitor bathed his somber face in light as he typed intently on the keyboard. Like a monk worshipping at a shrine by candlelight, Mike sat alone into the late hours of the night.
Mark's prayers for enlightenment went unanswered.
No search engines found a website for Pandora. He trolled all of his usual fetish websites, message boards, chat rooms and bdsm groups. He even paid to join a few new ones. No listings, no links, no ads ... nothing.
At his first opportunity, Mark visited his favorite porn shops and adult novelty stores. He stocked up on fetish magazines, dating flyers and alternative lifestyle magazines. They contained no mention of a dominatrix named Pandora. The only lead he found was an ad for an upcoming bdsm tradeshow and seminar at the local conference center. When the day came, somehow, Mark built up the courage to attend. Appalled that he might be spotted by an acquaintance, he entered quickly. He wore a big fedora, sunglasses and turned up his coat collar, like some sort of spy.
Inside the conference center, Mark found another world. All kinds of people browsed through displays full of whips, chains, cuffs and dildos of every shape and size. Some attendees even walked about in tight latex or harsh leather clothing. Avoiding eye contact, Mark subtly searched the entire hall. Most of the stalls were manned by ordinary small business owners just catering to the tastes of their customers.
Finally, in one secluded corner, Mark found a booth for the local bdsm club. Behind the table sat a tall, thin Goth woman with "Monica" written on her nametag. She wore black clothes, a rubbery necklace that adhered tightly to her neck and enough facial piercings to make Mark wince in empathy. However, Monica was very knowledgeable and patient with Mark's naive questions.
"Yes, I've heard of Pandora," she said.
Mark flushed with the prospect of progress. Finally, he had found Independent confirmation of Kevin's wild tale. He wasn't on a wild goose chase! Pandora was a real woman!
"She doesn't come to our meetings or play parties though," Monica continued.
"How can I find ... get in contact with her," Mark asked, barely hiding his excitment.
"I'd go to some local munches and just ask around. Someone will know Pandora personally," Monica answered.
"What's a 'munch?'" Mark asked.
"It's just a social gathering for people interested in bdsm. Usually at a regular bar or restaurant. I doubt Pandora would be there in person, but you'll meet a lot of good folks."
Monica furrowed her brow almost hard enough to make her piercings crash together.
"Look, Mark. Pandora is a very heavy player," she said.
"You mean she's really fat?" Mark asked.
"Ha! No! Actually she's quite petite and very attractive," Monica said with a smile. "But Pandora is into some very extreme forms of bdsm. Only serious players with years of experience play with someone like Pandora."
"Is she dangerous?"
"No ... no. I've never heard that," Monica said. She visibly struggled for words. "It's just ... Well, I'd hate to see a newbie like you scared off by going to someone as intense as Pandora."
Monica wrote down the information about several nearby munches on a piece of paper. On the other side she wrote down the names of several good books on introductory bdsm.
"Now read these, Mark," Monica said tapping the piece of paper with her pencil. "You can probably buy some of them in the second to last booth on the right."
"Thanks, Monica. You've been a big help," Mark said taking the note.
"And remember," she called after him, and he looked back. "Everything you do should be safe, sane and consensual ... always."
Mark pointed the note at her with a slow nod.
Mark bought a couple of the recommended books and read voraciously. Most of the information seemed like common sense. Mark did find some innovative safety precautions. However, he couldn't follow them without revealing his kinky side to someone close to him. Leaving notes behind, checking in by phone at appointed times, asking for references, etc. Nothing was really foolproof against a determined and patient psycho. Sooner or later, he'd need to trust a woman to render him completely helpless. That vulnerability was part of the allure of bdsm. He was taking less of a risk than every woman who went on a date. Women were brave enough to be alone with strange men who were bigger and stronger than them. Now that took courage.
Besides, Mark knew firsthand that falling in love was the biggest risk anyone could take. That gave one person the power to emotionally devastate you. What about marriage and children? Was it sane for a man to gamble with half of his possessions and lifesavings? Judging from the number of ugly divorces, most couples didn't know each other as well as they thought when they said, "I do."
No. Mark would trust someone with his body long before he would trust someone with his heart. Physical injury healed more readily than hurt feelings.
It took Mark months to visit all the munches in the area. They did not meet often and some were a long drive. Debbie complained that Mark wasn't spending enough time with her. Most of the kinky people that attended the munches were surprisingly mundane. Many had heard of Pandora. Some had even seen her in person. No one seemed to know exactly where to find her.
Mark eventually met another man who shared his particular fetish for extreme bondage. Like most who attended the Munches, he used a pseudonym within the bdsm Scene. He was a soft-spoken man called Cerberus. He had a closedly trimmed brown beard. Otherwise, he was a wiry, tightly muscled man, much like Mark.
"It seems like few dominant women enjoy just restraining men," Mark said.
"They'd rather be served and pampered. So, they want your hands free," Cerberus said.
"So, even in the bdsm Scene, we're a minority within a minority," Mark said sadly.
"Don't despair. The right bondage diva for you is out there somewhere," Cerberus said.
"I have heard of one, called Pandora, but I can't even find Her," Mark said.
Cerberus regarded Mark through narrow eyes for a long moment.
"I know Pandora."
"You do?!" Mark said.
"Yeah, She's played with me," Cerberus said.
"Really?" Mark said. He tried to maintain his composure as his mind raced. "Well ... What is She ... I mean."
Mark took a deep breath.
"Is Pandora into extreme bondage?"
"Pandora is into extreme everything," Cerberus said with a big grin.
"Does She make subs grovel and beat them? I'm not into pain and humiliation."
"Not a problem. Pandora will just focus on any fetish you have."
"Is She as good as everyone says."
"She's the best. She really knows Her stuff. You'll be in good hands, It's just that ..."
Cerberus paused. Still smiling, he looked down and absently traced a finger through a puddle spilled on the bar. Cerberus seemed to chose his next words one at a time.
"You have to be careful with Pandora. She will fullfill your kinkiest fantasy. Just ... make sure you know what you really want."
Cerberus asked Mark to write down his instant message information and the best times to contact him online.
A few days later, Mark was sitting at his home computer when Pandora's icon slowly rose onto the monitor like a ghost above a graveyard.
"I hear you've been looking for me."
"Yes," Mark typed nervously. "Cerberus said he'd help us make contact."
"He's a good boy," Pandora wrote. "He tells me that you share his fetish for extreme restraint. Exactly what do you yearn?"
Mark swallowed. He had always been afraid to discuss his fetishes with his closest friends and family. Now, he was revealing his darkest secret to a complete stranger. He had never gone this far before. However, this time he was determined to fulfill his fetish dreams no matter what.
"I want to be completely restrained from head to toe."
Mark exhaled in relief. There it was, out there. He'd overcome another huge mental hurdle.
"There are many ways to do that," Pandora wrote. "Be specific. What excites you the most? What dark desires fill you with uncontrollable passion. Tell me."
Mark paused and focused.
"I want to be completely unable to move. Trapped. Unable to escape."
"You want to be a toy, that I can tease and play with whenever I want. A mere decoration in my dungeon. My property. Mine. For as long as I wish."
Oh God! She knew! Pandora understood! Finally, a woman who really understood.
"On Friday night at 10 p.m., I will send a car to pick you up at the intersection of Perkins and Water streets. Bring a complete copy of your medical records."
And Pandora's icon disappeared.
Mark reached the appointed spot a half hour early. He waited impatiently holding a large envelope that contained his medical records. At exactly 10 p.m., Mark was astonished when a long shiny limousine with tinted windows pulled up to the curb. A tall chauffeur stepped out and silently opened the door for Mark.
"Pandora?" Mark confirmed with wide eyes.
"She's looking forward to meeting you, sir," the chauffeur said with an aristocratic accent.
Mark stooped into the limo. He exchanged a few generic pleasantries with the chauffeur during a surprisingly short drive. When he stepped out of the limo, he stood before a big brick mansion. As Mark climbed the front steps, the chauffeur called after him, "Just knock when you reach the front door, sir."
The huge front doors felt as sturdy as a fortress under the clang of a heavy iron knocker. Eventually, one of the doors swung inward to reveal ... a French maid in a shiny black rubber doll suit. Mark's jaw fell open as he recognized the exotic dancer from the strip club where he had first heard about Pandora months ago. Of course, he couldn't tell if the same woman was behind this latex doll mask. It was probably a common maid costume in the bdsm Scene. Still, it seemed ironic that Mark's long quest would end the same way it had begun.
The maid kicked the door closed behind Mike. As she led him into the dark interior of the mansion, he saw that her arms were sealed behind her back in a tight leather sheath. Mark idly wondered how she had opened the door for him. The spacious interior of Pandora's mansion looked like a Gothic nightmare, full of heavy wooden furniture, thick velvet curtains, brooding portraits and even a huge waterfountain. It was dimly lit by flickering candelabras and chandeliers.
They found Pandora reclining on a tall wooden throne. She was dressed in tight, shiny black leather that matched the color of her long, straight hair and contrasted sharply with her fair skin. Her bare feet rested daintily on a footstool as she read a paperback novel. As Mark approached through the gloom, he saw that Pandora's footstool was really a man tightly bound into a ball. More stunning still, Pandora was actually sitting on the lap of a huge, heavily muscled man who was completely bound to Her throne. His arms were tied to the top of each arm rest. His legs were tied to the front legs of the throne. Even his head was immovably strapped to the high back.
Pandora closed the novel and said, "Thank you, Fifi. Now go and dust the library."
Fifi's high heels clicked on the marble floor as the rubber maid strutted to the wall. She stopped before a long rack that held a number of implements. Each one had an identical silver handle pointing straight up at waist level. Fifi bowed over a feather duster and inserted its silver handle into her circular doll mouth until there was a click. She then removed the duster from the rack and walked out of the room with it protruding from her mouth. The pink feathers quivered with each step.
"I'm glad you came," Pandora said with a warm smile. "Are those your medical records?."
"Yes," Mark said, handing her the envelope with wide eyes. He couldn't believe such strange people existed in the real world.
Pandora leaned forward to take Mark's records. This slight movement elicited desperate grunts and groans from the big man She sat upon. His muscles bulged. His veins stood out. The heavy wooden throne creaked from his frantic exertions, but he couldn't budge an inch. A ball gag stifled his pants as Pandora leaned back again, veiling his defeated expression behind her silky black hair. Mark had never seen anyone bound so strictly. His heart went out to Pandora's captives.
"Are they OK?" he asked quietly.
"Hmm? Who?" Pandora asked absently as she opened Mark's records. "Oh, these two. Yes. They're fine."
Pandora smiled fondly as she stroked the hairy arm of Her living throne with Her hand and caressed the smooth butt of Her ottoman with Her foot. They emitted the most pathetic moans and whimpers that Mark had ever heard from men. They seemed ready to pop from frustrated arousal.
Mark shared the feeling. He hoped his growing erection was not too obvious.
"Any pressing medical conditions or requirements I should know about?" Pandora asked.
"No. No. I'm healthy as a horse," Mark said.
"Well, I need to check these for a few minutes, anyway. Why don't you have a look around? I think you'll find the Bondage Wing the most interesting," Pandora said, pointing toward the doorway that Fifi had exited.
Beyond the doorway, Mark entered a cavernous library. Towering bookshelves lined the walls. Spotlights from the rafters illuminated statues, busts and huge books displayed on pedestals. Fifi strutted out from behind one statue and began dusting another. Shaking and nodding her head at all sorts of angles, she looked like a bizarre latex woodpecker, She dusted thoroughly, but rarely, judging from the cloud of sparkling dust particles that rose in the spotlight beam.
Consistent with Pandora's taste, the statues were all tightly muscled men in a variety of macabre poses. They seemed to be frozen in the act of fleeing, hiding and cringing in fear. Several were raising their arms as if to fend off an attack. Of course, their detailed physiques immediately made Mark suspect that the statues were really male models in thick gray make-up. However, closer inspection found no hair and no eyeholes. Mark drummed his fingernails on several of their legs as he strolled past each pedestal. The statues were hard as rocks. Mark was both relieved and disappointed. They were just regular cement statues, probably relics from the early days of Pandora's fetish, before She had learned to reduce real men to decorations.
Fifi bent over to dust off one of the empty pedestals. Mark's gaze locked on her latex covered ass. That smooth, tight latex shined gloriously in the spotlight beam. It just looked perfect!
"I see that you like Fifi's costume," Pandora said quietly.
Mark nearly jumped out of his skin. Pandora had silently walked right up to him in Her bare feet. She was still dressed in the same leather garb. However, now She led a big dog on a leash. Of course, a second glance revealed that it was really a man crawling on all fours. He was nearly naked except for a leather harness, studded collar and a leather dog mask that covered his whole head. His costume was completed by a thin puppy tail and leather sheaths that bound his arms and legs into the shape of a dog's legs. He couldn't stand up if he tried.
Standing beside Pandora for the first time, Mark realized just how petite She really was. He was average height, and She didn't even come up to his shoulder. Yet, she was wonderfully slim and perfectly proportioned. Her childlike stature helped to put Mark at ease. His diminutive host wasn't going to overpower and imprison him against his will. Hell! The only men he'd seen in Her home had been too restrained to pose a threat. Despite Pandora's macabre decor, Mark felt no sense of danger or intimidation here. In fact, he was beginning to enjoy his visit a great deal. Everywhere he looked, Pandora's mansion was an erotic eyeful!
"That rubber maid outfit looks fantastic on Fifi," Mark said. "I bet it feels wonderful. You know, the first time I ever heard about You, I was watching an exotic dancer who was wearing the exact same costume."
"Did you like her striptease act? Fifi practiced and practiced that dance," Pandora smiled.
"You mean, that was her? The same woman?"
"No, That was the same man," Pandora corrected.
"Fifi's real name is Ralph," Pandora said. "He was a low class, macho pig the first time he came here to fix my plumbing."
"No! No way!" Mark said shaking his head. "Her body is just too ... feminine."
He couldn't imagine the lithe rubber maid with five o'clock shadow, a beer gut, a tool belt and an exposed butt crack.
"Just check between the legs if you want proof," Pandora said. "It's amazing how much you can be feminized with the right clothing, grooming, training, excercise ... hormone injections. I could use a good rubber waitress around here. Intrested?"
"Nooooo. No. No thank You," Mark said. "I'm ugly enough as a man."
Pandora laughed. She had a cute, girlish giggle. Aside from Her atire, Pandora was not at all what Mike expected in a dominatrix. She wasn't jaded, overbearing or nasty. In fact, Pandora didn't seem the least bit menancing or crazy.
"Well, like I said there is more than one way to immobilize a man, I still have some empty some pedestals here," Pandora gestured around the library.
"What? You mean pose like a statue? No. I was hoping to really be restrained ... not just pretend I can't move," Mark said.
"Oh, they are not pretending," Pandora said, caressing the concrete ass of a nearby statue.
"Um ... I ... Are you saying ... Are there living men inside these statues?" Mark said stepping back. "That's impossible ... How can they breath? How can they eat?"
"Their nostrils aren't covered and many of my exhibits are hitched to liquid IV tubes and catheters for prolonged immobility," Pandora said. "You just can't see the tubes here beneath the cement. Like I said before, just check between the legs if you want proof. Come into the art gallery. You can see the IV tubes better there."
Pandora led her puppy-boy toward a side door without looking back at her stupified visitor. She seemed confident that Mark would follow Her instead of fleeing out the front door screaming in terror. Just before he left the library, Mark looked over his shoulder and saw Fifi thoroughly dusting the crotch of a statue. Incredibly, the dangling phallus of the statue swung back and forth like a gray punching bag. As Mark watched, the cock began to throb and swell into an erection under Fifi's dusting. That part of the living statue was only covered with gray make-up. Apparently, the prisoner's cock was his only contact with the world outside his cement cocoon, Wow! That was too extreme, even for Mark! He hurried from the library to catch up with his host.
The next room was just as large, but better lit. The walls were lined with dozens of framed panels. Each showcased a lifesize carving of a man in base relief. They seemed to be coated in shiny lacquer and looked like flies caught in amber. Mark's jaw fell open when he realized that these were real men breathing through short hoses in their mouthes. Each was sealed from head to foot in a latex vac bed. Some were glossy red. Others were black. Some of the latex sheets had artistic designs such as spider webs or chains. A few of the vac beds held men fully clothed in business suits or work clothes. There was a car mechanic. Over here was a mail man. It looked as if Pandora had caught them in their daily routines, and preserved them here in Her gallery. Most of Her prisoners were naked, with their cocks poking through little airtight holes low in the latex. Regardless of color, the tightly pressing sheets of latex clearly defined every detail of their bodies.
They all had wiry physiques, just like Mark.
Pandora walked over to the first vac bed. Reaching behind the display, she pulled out an empty IV bag. She disconnected it from a small plastic tube and replaced it with a new bag full of clear liquid. Looking around, Mark saw that every man on display had an IV connected to his shoulder and a catheter draining his cock. The needles were stuck right through the latex.
"Don't look so horrified, Mark," Pandora said, "I take very good care of my collection."
At the sound of their owner's voice, the silent gallery sprang to life. The men moaned pleadingly and squirmed within their membranes. They could only stretch the latex slightly before it snapped them back to their original poses. It sealed their lips so tightly around their breathing tubes, they couldn't even speak.
Pandora walked to the next display, who appeared to be a firefighter. A flame pattern bordered his otherwise transparent latex. She smiled fondly as She gently patted his stiffening cock. The firefighter screamed and thrashed wildly within his rubbery prison. Pandora read a small tag tied around his testicles.
"Oh, hush now, Donald. It says right here, you were milked just two days ago," She told the firefighter. With a disappointed groan, Donald stopped his frantic struggle and his body relaxed back to the exact same position he had started in. The burly firefighter was hopelessly trapped, just like the rest of them.
"How long do You keep them like this?" Mark asked fearfully.
"For as long as I want," Pandora said. "I know. I know I overindulge, but I can't help myself, I just can't part with any of them."
Pandora reached up and ran Her fingernails smoothly over the abs of an anonymous man in a shiny black vac bed. He whimpered in utter despair.
"I mean look at them! They're just so perfect!" Pandora said. An angelic smile showed that she was oblivious to the plight of the poor men. "They don't have to make small talk. They don't have to work, pay bills, run errands, make decisions or worry. They just exist for me to view and touch whenever I wish."
Pandora wrenched Her attention from Her prisoner to look at Mark.
"Serving as an object for a woman's pleasure is the only real purpose of a man. You know that, Mark. Everything else in life is just to get men to this one moment of perfection. And I preserve them in that state of absolute arousal."
By now, Pandora was breathing heavily as She slowly rubbed Herself through Her leather garb. For the first time, he realized that Pandora was just as overwhelmed by Her irrational compulsions as Mark was by his. If they both lost control, then who would prevent their fetishes from going too far? A cold fear flushed through Mark's body.
"Pandora, You can't just keep all of these people here," Mike said gently touching Her shoulder. "It's not safe."
"Oh, I closely monitor their condition and do whatever it takes to keep them healthy, even if I have to free them sometimes," Pandora said wistfully. "Some of them, like Fifi, actually leave the mansion briefly, when I want to find a new acquisition ... like you."
Of course! It had been no coincidence to find Fifi here! Pandora had sent her to the strip club as bait - bait for a latex bondage fanatic like him!
"Ironically, my collection has grown to the point where I'm just as trapped here as they are," Pandora said. "I spend most of my time taking care of my exhibits now. I can't leave them unattended for very long. That's why my skin has developed such a prison pallor."
Pandora walked to a section of wall where an empty vac bed was mounted. A hynotic red and black spiral pattern decorated the gleeming latex.
"This is where I will display you," Pandora said, slowly unzipping the reenforced edge of the rubber sheets. The long erotic sound made Mark's face muscles tightened with arousal, tugging the corners of his mouth and eyes into a very intense expression. Slowly, he squared his shoulders to stand at rigid attention and his cock surged to escape his briefs. The latex looked smooth and cool! He longed to feel the snug comfort of that ultimate embrace!
Mark didn't want to get trapped here like the others! Once in a vac bed, he'd be helpless for who knows how long. He had to think! There had to be a way to assure his release. Mark came to his first meeting with Pandora only expecting a preliminary interview. He hadn't taken any safety precautions ... but Pandora didn't know that! Mark latched onto the best safety tip from the bdsm books.
"I told a friend where I was going tonight. He's expecting me to call at 11 pm Sunday night," Mark said. He was bluffing.
Without missing a beat, Pandora said, "Then call your friend now. Just tell him you've gone home earlier than expected, and you won't need to make any safety checks later."
Damn! She'd been through this before!
Mark flipped open his cell phone and hesitated. OK. He'd call his home answering machine and pretend to tell someone where he was and when he'd be home. Actually, Mark had no idea where he was. He hadn't watched the route during the limo ride. What if Debbie played back the message? No. Wait! Kevin! Of course! Of all Mark's friends, Kevin would be the least shocked. He had been the one who originally told Mark about Pandora, and Kevin's brother-in-law, the vice cop, would know where to find Her mansion, if Mark "disappeared."
Mark dialed Kevin's number and took a few steps away from Pandora to play out the charade. He was silently rehearsing what he'd say when Kevin's phone started ringing. Coincidentally, a fraction of a second later, Pandora's cell phone rang too. Good. That would distract Her from what Mark said. Her phone rang again, but She still made no move to answer it. She was just staring patiently at Mark with a blank expression. Kevin wasn't answering either, That's OK. Kevin's voicemail would eventually pick up, and Mark would record a message detailed enough to assure his eventual rescue.
Kevin's phone rang a third time, followed a second later by Pandora's again. No wait! That second ring wasn't coming from Pandora. It was coming from the vac bed to Mark's right. It contained the guy wearing a tacky plaid business suit. The latex was transparent, but it still obscurred his features like a nylon on a bankrobber. Numbly, Mark leaned closer for a better look at the frozen face. Over his cell phone, he heard Kevin's phone ring a fourth time. A split second later, a blue light flashed in the shirt pocket of the immobilized businessman as his phone rang.
This was Kevin.
Mark's cell phone slipped from his limp hand and clattered to the floor of the gallery. Pandora's puppy-boy scrambled over and picked it up in his mouth. Rearing up on his back haunches, in the classic begging position, the puppy-boy gave Mark's cell phone back to him. The puppy wagged his fake tail so enthusiastically, that his collar jingled. For the first time, Mark noticed that his dog tag read, "Cerberus." For a split second, Mark saw recognition in the brown eyes that looked out of the puppy mask. Then, Cerberus scampered back to his Mistress's side.
Mark stared at Pandora in open awe.
"From the beginning ... all along," was all Mark could stammer.
"Silly boy," Pandora said with a sympathetic pout. "Do you really think I'd let a complete stranger into my home? I leave nothing to chance when it comes to my collection. Fifi and Cerberus are two of my best scouts. And Kevin here ... Well, he's the very best salesman I've ever had. He can really READ people. Kevin said he spotted your 'secret' latex fetish a mile away."
Mark had known Kevin almost a year. They were drinking buddies ... confidants.
"I don't make it easy to 'find' me. I don't want any fakes in my gallery," Pandora said, slowly sashaying toward Mark. "By the time a man comes this far, he is ready for the final step,"
Now, Pandora stood close enough to fill Mark's nose with Her sweet aroma. She slowly snaked Her thin arms around him. He could not resist the impulse to return Her embrace. She was so small, but Mark didn't have the strength to break free.
"I can't! I can't stay here!" Mark begged quietly. He clenched his eyes closed so tightly that a single tear ran down his cheek.
"I have a job, an apartment. A girlfriend!" he explained.
"Yet, you are here with Me," Pandora breathed in his ear. She shifted slightly in his arms and pressed Her weight against his crotch. Mark whimpered as his erection was sandwiched between their bodies. He felt some pre-cum squirt into his underwear.
"I can feel that You belong here, Mark. You know that You are meant to be displayed in my collection," Pandora whispered.
Pandora looked up at Mark, Her eyelids drooping with arousal, as she unbuttoned his shirt.
"I'll have you driven home if you want. However, you'll never forgive yourself. Your fetish will not just go away, Mark."
Pandora unbuckled his belt and his pants fell to the floor with a jingle of coins and keys.
"You could spend years searching the bdsm Scene without experiencing anything close to what I offer. At best, you'll waste away your life with a lot of users and incompetent wannabees. Eventually, you'll beg to come back to Me. Hopefully, you'll realize your mistake before you die in one of those tragic bdsm accidents that we read about in the newspapers."
Actually, Mark had already experienced some harrowing, near death experiences with self-bondage. Pandora pulled the waistband of his underwear up and over his erection and let it fall to the floor with his pants.
"It's safer here, with me. I'll take care of you," Pandora said soothingly as she cupped Mark's jaw in the palm of her hand. He stepped out of his loafers, pulled off his socks, and Mark was completely naked.
"I'm glad you're staying Mark, for both our sakes," Pandora said. She lead him by the hand toward the waiting vac bed. As if on cue, Fifi entered the gallery towing a vacuum cleaner behind her like a pony cart. The nozzle was attached to her mouth by another custom-shaped silver handle. Pandora took the hose from Fifi and connected it to the perforated PVC tubes framing the vac bed.
Mark looked from Fifi to Cerberus seeking some sign of reassurance or support. They stared back with expressionless masks. Pandora held open the rubbery opening of the latex envelope and looked at Mark expectantly. He hesitated.
"After all the time you've waited, after everything you've done to reach this moment, don't stand there now and pretend you have any more choice about this than I do," Pandora said.
Mark's shoulders sagged in defeat. He slipped into the vac bed and stepped onto a small ledge protruding from the wall behind it. As Pandora zipped him inside, She smiled reassuringly through the narrow opening until it closed. The zipper had no tab on the inside. Mark was already trapped. He stood in a very narrow space between two sheets of rubber. The skin-like material was stretched tauntly around the PVC frame like the head of a drum. The shiny latex felt smooth and cool against his skin. The red and black spiral let in plenty of light, but he could not see out.
Pandora stretched the lower opening of the envelope over Mark's cock and balls despite the size of his erection. The hole gripped the base of his penis in an airtight seal. The only part of Mark protruding from his latex prison, would be his cock. The moment of his complete immobilization drew near.
"What pose should I stand in, Mistress?" Mark asked before clamping the end of the rubber breathing tube tightly in his teeth.
Pandora turned on the vacuum cleaner without replying. For a moment nothing happened. Then the latex sheet rippled in front of Mark like a curtain in a breeze. It suddenly snapped shut all around him with an audible "thump." Mark felt like he was trapped in a huge wad of bubblegum. The latex stretched slightly, but it clung tightly to every square inch of his body. For a few more seconds, the last of the air whistled past his ears. However, the more Mark moved, the more air escaped and the tighter the latex gripped him. He felt Pandora lusciously running Her hands over his body to smooth out any air pockets. The vacuum cleaner suddenly hummed a higher pitch when there was no more air to suck out of the envelope.
Mark heard Pandora close a valve and turn off the vacuum cleaner. The room felll silent. Mark had instinctively tried to hold the shrinking latex away from his face with his hands. So, now he was stuck in that position, holding his hands up like a surrendering soldier. Mark felt Pandora run her fingers lightly over his abs, his ribs and his nipples.
"Perfect," she whispered. "I love the moment when they finally accept their fate, Fifi. Doesn't he look so content now? No matter how they resist, this is how they all end up."
She was talking about Mark as if he wasn't there anymore.
Then he felt Pandora caress his cock. She stroked and squeezed with greater and greater intensity. As if in a daze, Mark endured the rough milking without complaint or resistance until She brought him to the most intense orgasm of his life. The vac bed contained Mark's wild bucking until he was spent. Then Pandora wiped off his hard cock with a moist towelette and dried it with a rough towel. Mark screamed uncontrollably at the overwhelming sensations to his still sensitive cock. She left him hanging in the vac bed as limply as a rag doll.
Mark heard Pandora scribbling a note as she muttered, "11:59 p.m., Friday, July 27." Then he felt her tie the tag loosely to his testicles. So, this was his new role in life. He was just a disembodied dildo for the amusement of his new owner.
Mark yelped as She stuck the IV needle through the latex into his shoulder. However, that was nothing compared to the insertion of the catheter into his cock.
Then Mark heard a nearby vac bed being unzipped.
"Thank You, Mistress," it was Kevin's voice. "I hope Mark meets Your expectations."
"Yes, sweet boy, you've done well," Pandora's voice. "Fifi too, and Cerberus ... all three of you have earned the usual reward - two whole days without your chastity devices."
"Oh! Thank You Mistress! Thank You, my Queen!" Kevin groveled.
"Come along. I'll unlock them for you now," Pandora said.
The clicking of Fifi's heels, the jingling of Cerberus's collar and the sweet sound of Pandora's voice receeded into the distance as She continued talking.
"Take Mark's clothes with you, Kevin. Use his keys. Search his apartment, especially his computer. Make sure there is nothing to lead anyone here ..."
Mark was left behind in blind silence. A man had been reduced to a phallus sticking out of an abstract wall mural. He'd have a long, long time to contemplate the path in life that had led him to become just another trophy in the vast bondage gallery of Pandora.