© Copyright 2001 - Ataraxia - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; latex; catsuit; bond; bagged; inflatable; encased; cocoon; toys; climax; cons; X
As always, she arrives at about 8 a.m. She's still wearing her airline uniform, having flown an early flight this morning. She looks bedraggled and a bit wilted. She probably came right from the airport. She called me last night telling me how stressed out she was. I made sure everything was ready for her.
After a friendly kiss on the cheek and a bit of small talk, she heads for the bathroom to empty her bowels and bladder as best she can. I've given her a large tube of KY jelly and pair of latex panties equipped with inflatable, vibrating anal and vaginal dildoes. She knows the routine. She puts these on, lubricating herself using the entire tube of jelly. I leave her to these chores and go put on my latex catsuit. I knew I'd have to wear the suit for at least as long as her ordeal. Fortunately, it had two-way zipper which allowed me to open up to pee even when the suit was locked on. Fluid control is not one of my "things".
A few minutes later she opens the bathroom door and walks out into the hallway to let me know she's ready. She is entirely naked except for the black latex panties. The dildoes, which are fairly thick, cause her to walk a bit bow-leggedly. The wires to the vibrators dangle to the floor. From her smile I see that she is already beginning to enjoy their presence in her private parts and in anticipation of what is to come. She ceremoniously produces a small padlock and locks me into my catsuit with it. She places the only key into a small rubber pouch on a fine golden chain around her neck. I cannot take my catsuit off until she unlocks it later.
Even though she had been in my single-floor, ranch style house many times before, I remind her to explore the layout of the house in as much detail as possible. In particular, she needs to study the location of two "Welcome" mats made of thick sisal that I strategically place in different locations each time she has a session here. These are her "break" mats. I also call her attention to a larger sisal mat on the floor in the living room just under the big clock. This is her "Holy Grail" mat. The better she can remember location of these mats, the better off she'd be for the rest of the day. We now go to the bedroom in the back of my house at the opposite end from the living room (and her "Holy Grail" mat).
I get out the large, very heavy, inflatable latex "mummy" bag and help her get into it. The bag is constructed of two layers and zipped up her back. It has a network of small tubes allowing air to be evacuated and inflated at various points of her body such as at her feet, crotch, armpits, etc. It fits her snugly and causes her arms to press at her sides. Her head fits neatly into the attached hood, which is equipped with separate zippered flaps allowing controlled access to her eyes, nose and mouth. For now, all of the flaps are open so she can breathe, talk and see freely.
Before closing the waterproof main zipper entirely, I pour a quart of glycerin into the bag with her. I hear her groan from pleasure as she feels this coolish liquid finds its way down to her feet, covering her whole body and making it extremely slippery against the latex. As a final precaution, I place a piece of duct tape down the entire length of the main zipper to prevent any possibility of leakage.
Now she is completely and helplessly encased in the latex mummy bag from head to foot. I then stuff her into still another bag. This one, however, has been fashioned from an inner tube from a very large tire such as a payloader or other piece of heavy construction equipment. It is made of extremely heavy, "industrial grade" rubber and seems almost "bullet proof". This bag fits around her nicely, leaving just enough room inside to move her arms with a little effort. I close padlocks through holes in this rubber at her feet to secure that end. At this point she is incased in two layers of latex and one layer of heavy inner tube rubber. They add thirty or forty pounds to her total weight. Her feet are completely secured with padlocks. Her eyes, nose and mouth are still accessible through their respective open zippered flaps and the upper part of the inner tube bag is still folded back. She is looking at me. I see pleasure in her eyes. I ask her if she is OK now-this is her last chance to chicken out if she wants to. Yes, she's fine and already beginning to enjoy her confinement.
I insert the blowup gag into her mouth and close the zippered flap over it. It has a hard, 8 inch tube that she can breathe through no matter how much the gag is inflated. I slowly begin inflating the gag. Through pre-arranged signals of moans (and lots of experience) she lets me know when it is inflated to just the right size for long-term comfort. She is securely gagged, but not uncomfortably so. Next I insert two other tubes with special molded tips a short ways into her nostrils and fasten them securely to the latex of her hood and a special leather harness that surrounds here head. These fit comfortably.
Like the gag tube, these are about two feet in length and have a rigid inner wall so that they will not kink or collapse. These tubes will provide her main source of breathing air and are secured so that no matter how much she squirms and trashes about, they will not be torn away from her nostrils. Safety is a primary concern. Even if these do fail for some reason, she'll still be able to breathe through the tube in the gag.
Now only her eyes remain visible. Again, I ask her is she is OK and ready to proceed. Yes, she's still fine and anxious to get going. She winks at me! I zip her eye flaps closed now and pull up the remainder of the heavy inner tube rubber bag up over her head. I make certain that all her tubes and wires are clear. Then I insert padlocks through holes in the end of the inner tube bag to lock it closed. I hope she wasn't planning on going anywhere today. She's "in the bag" now!
Now I connect the inflation tube of her mummy bag to a small air compressor and tell her to position her hands, etc. the way she would want them for the duration of her ordeal. I put the ends of her breathing tubes to my ears and listen for her signals. After some fidgeting and squirming in the bag she gives me the "OK, start inflating" signal. I watch the air pressure gauge on the compressor begin to rise. As the area in between the two layers of her latex mummy bag begin to fill with air, the air between her skin and the inner layer is pushed out through the network of evacuation tubes installed in the bag. The result is that the inner layer of latex is pushed against every nook and cranny of her body, stretching across her armpits, her face, into her ears, between her toes, etc. The glycerin lubrication allows her to her to move her hands and feet slightly, but only with great difficulty. As the outer layer expands, it pushes against the non-stretching, heavy inner tube rubber which prevents it from "ballooning" beyond it's original size.
Finally, as the black, elongated shape on my floor begins to look like a semi-flacid balloon from the inflation. When the gauge on the compressor reads about 5 psi, she gives me the signal that the pressure is just about right for her long term comfort. I disconnect the compressor hose and closed off the air evacuation network tubes to prevent leakage of the glycerin in the nooks and crannies of her body.
My final act of preparation is to connect her breathing and dildo inflation tubes and wires to a little black box fastened to the head end of the inner tube bag. This box contains batteries, pumps and circuitry to randomly power the anal and vaginal dildo vibrators and vary their inflation pressures. It also contains a microphone and flea power transmitter that sends any sounds she makes through her breathing tubes to a portable radio. This allows me to continually monitor her safety from anywhere in the house.
Her preparations are complete. Her task, for the rest of the day is to wriggle and squirm her way on the floor from the starting point in the bedroom at one end of my house to the "Holy Grail" mat under the clock at the other end. The heavy inner tube outer layer protects the fragile inner latex from the scuffing and scraping as she blindly makes her way across the floor and bumping into furniture. It also makes it very difficult for her to sense her location. Her only navigation aids are the sound of the chimes of the clock on the hour and half-hour and her knowledge of the layout of my house. From time to time she might get other clues such as the sound of the TV in the den and the radio in the kitchen.
It will all end at 5pm regardless, but it could end sooner if she finds (and identifies) the "Holy Grail" mat. This is her quest! If, along the way, she comes across and properly identifies one of the "break" mats, I will open her hood, give her food and water, massage her sore muscles a bit and let her take a "break" from the sensory deprivation for 15 minutes. Then the hood goes back on and her quest for the "Holy Grail" continues.
It's almost 10 a.m. now and I'm sitting at my desk in the den. From the little radio on my desk I can hear her breathing and groaning as she writhes around trying to find the "Holy Grail" mat, or, at the very least, one of the "break" mats. I think she's in the hallway now. It took her close to an hour to find her way out of the bedroom. I think she had two orgasms, too. It's hard work. In addition to be able to deal with the sensory deprivation and the in ability to move her limbs it's obvious that this ordeal take physical stamina, too. There's times when it has to be downright uncomfortable, too. She always wants an 800 mg ibruprophen when it's over.
I wonder if she'll be able to do the full term this time. We've done this a dozen times in the past and she usually can only go for three or four hours before it all becomes too much for her and she has to give me the "safe" word. She's only found her "Holy Grail" once and that was just by chance. It's pretty intense-I doubt if I could go as long as she does.
She's in the bathroom doorway now. In her inflated mummy bag she looks like a giant black amoeba, moving across the floor with a kind of cytoplasmic flow. I wonder if she knows where she is. There's a "break" mat in there. Maybe she'll be able to tell that it's the bathroom by the hardness and coolness of the tile floor. Ah! Apparently she has recognized it because she attempting to go in. What a struggle! She's trying to wiggle like a caterpillar but it doesn't quite work like that. She can't bend at the waist very easily because of the thickness of the rubber. Also, it's also so heavy-every movement requires extra muscles.
She seems to be caught in the doorway-just can't quite get her feet past the doorsills and into the room. I hear her grunting as she exerts herself. There! She's finally into the bathroom. She knows the toilet is just inside the room-if she can just find it she can use it as a navigating beacon. Oooh she just hit her head against it lightly. That would have hurt if it had not been for all those layers of rubber and the ballooning between her head and the hard porcelain. Now she's found the corner of the thick sisal mat-I wonder if she'll recognize it as a "break" mat?
From the radio speaker comes a cascading shrilling noise something like a guinea pig squealing for food. That's the signal! She's found a "break" mat!
I go to the kitchen and grab the "break" kit of food, water, a timer and other items. Then I head to the bathroom and find her somewhat wedged between the toilet and the bathtub. I drag her out to the main part of the room and sit down on the floor. I open the main inflation valve to start letting some air out of her "balloon" so that she'll be able to move her arms and legs a bit. Then I unlock the padlocks at the head of her cocoon and peel back the heavy inner tube rubber. Now I unzip the eye, nose and mouth flaps of her latex bag. Her steely blue eyes peer out at me from the deep eyeholes of the latex balloon. Then I deflate the mouth gag and remove it and the nose tubes. She sighs with relief. I set the little kitchen timer in the kit to 15 minutes and flipped the switch on the black box to turn the vibrators off. .
"Are we having fun yet?", I ask.
She's having trouble talking yet. so I give her a bit of water from a squeeze bottle.
"What time is it?", she asks, almost desperately.
"Why, it's almost noon. You've only got five more hours at most. You've also found the bathroom so that means you're already half way to the Holy Grail spot." I reply.
As the air from her balloon mummy began to evacuate she found she could move her arms and legs a bit more freely now.
"Where does it hurt? I'll massage it." I asked.
As I began massaging her aches and pains she began talking about how wonderful she was feeling and what good orgasms she'd had. We'd done this ordeal a dozen times already and it still felt great to her. Nothing she had ever done was such a complete catharsis of her mind, body and soul. We mused at what it would be like to do this when we are in our seventies. Maybe we'd have to find something a little less "rigorous" Although I could not actually see her facial expressions under her latex, a twinkle came to her eye and, with a bit of a giggle in her voice, she exclaimed that she had to pee. Just then the timer buzzed; fifteen minutes were up. Time to go back "under".
Copping out of the ordeal at this point was not an option unless the safe word is mentioned. To help her with her resolve I reminded her "Remember, you've got to deal with O'Hare again tomorrow and all of the rest of the week! You'll need all the 'stress relief' you can get!" After a moment of reflection on this she decided she was ready to go on but this time with a much lower inflation pressure-let's try 2 psi this time.
I put new batteries in the black box and turned the vibrator power switch back on. She immediately groaned from that. Then, after making sure she was ok at each step, I re-installed the blow-up gag (also at lower pressure this time) and the nostril tubes. Before I zipped up her eye flaps, I looked deeply into her eyes for a moment and said, "Hurry up and find your Holy Grail, will ya! My catsuit is very hot and sweaty and I'm beginning to get itchy!" I winked and then zipped her eye flaps closed. Then I unfurled the inner tube bag around her head and locked it shut once again with the padlocks. Finally, I reconnected the compressor and re-inflated her balloon to 2 psi per her request.
As the afternoon wore on she worked her way around the house. Sometimes she would head in the right direction. Other times she would regress. I could tell from her breathing over the radio that she was approaching physical exhaustion. She had additional orgasms with almost regular frequency-the vibrator dildoes were doing their job well. I had to admire her stamina and determination to reach her "Holy Grail". She never once indicated lack of resolve.
As she struggled around the floor in her difficult amoebic movements, she wound up in the bathroom and the kitchen twice. Of course, the "break" mat in the bathroom could only be used once, so it was no help to her this time. She did find the other "break" mat eventually.
While on her break she told me that the reduced inflation pressure in her mummy bag made it a bit easier to move around. Now she could position her arms where they would less interfere with her snaking and serpentining actions. There was also less pain in her joints as a result. It also seemed more erotically sensual because she was able to notice the slipperiness of the glycerine and latex against her skin more intensely. Perhaps we should consider this lower pressure during the next session!
Eventually, at about 4:30, she finally found her Holy Grail mat in the living room. The signal was several moans/groans through her breathing tubes that was supposed to resemble a flourish of trumpets. She had reached the pinnacle-she had arrived. Now, all that was left before she would be done was the "Send Off".
I grabbed the air compressor and dashed for the living room.. I connected the compressor tube to her mummy bag and reminded her to position her arms and legs to their "Send Off" position. This means she would straighten her arms out, placing her hands at her pussy. Then I pumped her balloon up to a hefty 12 psi. I could hear her groan as she felt the pressure building up.
The heavy rubber mummy bag and the locks which closed each end of it strained from the pressure inside. It looked like my precious black amoeba was about to explode! The latex surrounding her entire body pressed so tightly now that she probably could not even open her eyelids. She was absolutely immobile. The pressure on her rib cage caused her breathing to become shallower and shallower. She made regular "I'm OK" signal noises every minute or so. I turned the knobs on the little black box to set the dildo vibrating and pumping action to maximum. She would remain that way until she has one final, "Send Off" orgasm. It would be one to remember.
At 4:47p.m. that afternoon, a mere 13 minutes before 5pm, she had her Send Off. The sounds that came from the little radio did not seem like much because she was already quite exhausted from a dozen or so previous orgasm throughout the day. Yet this one involved the extreme immobility that she so dearly loves. She would remember this one above all of the others.
When she was done I opened the emergency air valve that deflated the cocoon quickly. The air whooshed out. Her breathing in the radio speaker returned to normal. Her continued "I'm OK" noises reassured me. I unlocked the padlocks and folded back the inner tuber rubber as quickly as I could. Then I opened her eye, nose and mouth flaps, removing the gag and nostril tubes. She looked up at me-her eyes were tired but there was a distinct look of deep satisfaction in them. I then dragged her over to the bathroom and placed her in the tub. I then removed the inner tube cocoon and then unzipped her latex mummy bag.
The bag contained a wild cocktail of glycerine, sweat and urine. It spoke of a long, hard ordeal. She said nothing. Despite the fact that she looked like she had just spent several hours in a washing machine there was still that unmistakable glow of deep, sexual satisfaction in her face. Her hair was totally bedraggled and would need shampooing and much care. Her skin had been abused pretty badly over the last eight hours and showed too much exposure to moisture. It was also red in places where the latex had chaffed against her. It probably would have been much worse without the glycerine. She was also quite limp from sheer exhaustion. I helped her remove the dildo panties and rinsed her whole body off with the hand shower. She reminded me of LeiLou in the Bruce Willis movie, 'The Fifth Element', after her encounter with Zorg. I offered her a jug of Gator Aid, ibruprophen, and some vitamins to help restore her vitality. She looked so pitiful yet so content. I drew her bath.
Still locked into my catsuit, I watched TV for an hour or so while she bathed and recuperated in the bathroom. I also began to cook a nice big pasta dinner for us. Eventually she came out from the bathroom wearing the heavy bathrobe she kept here for these sessions. She looked somewhat refreshed but still fatigued. She smiled.
"I suppose you'll be wanting to be out of your catsuit sometime this month, eh? How many times have you come since you put it on?" she asked me as she flaunted the little key pouch on the chain around her neck at me.
"Well, I've had about four of them.", I replied.
"Four! Is that all? I had eight today. Looks like you've got four more to go!" and with that she shoved the key pouch back under the heavy bathrobe. "If you want to take that thing off before I leave for work tomorrow morning, you'd better get started! If you need some help, we'll "turn up the heat'!"
I knew this meant I'd be spending most of the night in it, too. It would be almost 24 full hours.
As she recuperated from her ordeal it was going to be a long night for me.
Oh well, I love it just as much as she does! And in a another month or so when the mood is just right for both of us, she'll search for her Holy Grail again and then I'll have to catch up to her orgasm count.