© Copyright 2005 - Rbbral - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/f; latex; D/s; susp; bagged; nc/cons; XX
Jo felt betrayed, for she was sure she had been, by her husband of five years, whom she had loved and whom she thought had loved her.
Well, maybe he did, but going to see her neighbour and best friend down the road was a funny way of showing it. Of course she had no proof – yet. But soon she would.
Didn’t he find her attractive? Twenty-seven, raven hair, 5 feet ten inches, great body, slim and athletic, and, she thought a pleasant disposition as well. She had family money and a well-paid job. So what could he want from Pat? Pat was the same height, slim and attractive, but with mousy brown hair. Her husband had died before he was thirty but Pat had been well provided for, and she also had a good job. So what was she offering to her husband that Jo couldn’t provide? This afternoon Jo would try and find out. Twice in the last fortnight she had followed Tom, her husband, supposedly going to play squash, to Pat’s house. Two hours later he would return, making up some cock and bull story about how the game had gone.
She still loved him, she thought they had a great sex life, experimental but not too kinky, so what could he be seeing Pat for? He had a slim, hard body, not dissimilar in fact to hers or Pats – similar height and slim waist and limbs. She had decided she would not give him up easily, she would fight for him, but first she had to find out more. Pat had invited her round for tea that Saturday afternoon, and Jo had prepared well. She wanted evidence and she was going to search Pat’s house for it. It would be somewhere, she knew and then she would confront Tom with it, and have it out with both of them if necessary. Pat was a dear friend, and Jo had really got to know her since the loss of her husband, but betrayal was beyond any friendship. She would find out more first, she was not, yet anyway, going to come to any fast conclusions.
“More tea?” Pat said, smiling at her friend.
“I’ll heat up the water.” Pat said and went to the kitchen. Now’s your chance, Jo thought, and quickly dispensed two sleeping pills, powdered down, into Pat’s half filled cup. That should be enough to put her out for an hour or so for me to do some exploring. Pat returned and they chatted happily, the emotional undercurrent not apparent. Pat sat back on the chair and yawned.
“God, I don’t know what has got into me. I’m quite drowsy this afternoon.”
“Probably work.” Smiled Jo, innocently. Two minutes later Pat was out. Jo, her heart thumping, nervously left the room and began to explore the house. Three bedrooms – she found nothing, bathrooms – nothing, the downstairs – nothing. That only left the basement. Well, last chance, she thought. Laundry, workroom and shower stall – and a locked door! This might be interesting, Jo thought. But where would she keep a key? She looked under plants, rugs, paint pots and into cupboards. Finally she found a key on the window ledge. She took a deep breath and slipped the key in the lock. Do you really want to find out, she thought to herself? No, I have to know, I’m fighting for my marriage, and I’m no weakling. She found a light switch and turned it on.
Nothing she could have imagined could have prepared her for this! She gulped in a lungful of air as she surveyed the room. It was a bizarre cross between bedroom, torture chamber and den! It was a big room, and the floor was covered in white spongy rubber tiles. Two of the walls had full length cupboards with mirrors, below the high ceiling was a latticework of metal tubing on a two foot grid, with spot lighting on runners. There were half a dozen switches with dimmers along the walls. This in itself might not have been so strange, but it was what was in the room that took her breath away.
A king sized bed was up against one wall, with metal head and footboards. The sheet over it was shiny and black, as were the pillows. Hanging from the latticework throughout the room were chains and cuffs, and horizontal bars with attached cuffs. Along the wall at various intervals were winches and pulleys and rings were embedded in the rubber-tiled floor. This is some torture chamber; Jo thought and sat down on the bed. Her hand rested on the sheet, it was cool and smooth. This wasn’t satin or silk, Jo thought and leant down and sniffed it. The sheet and the pillows were made of latex! Attached by chains to the head and footboards were cuffs and a padded collar. Her mind was in a whirl, and her eyes traversed the room again. On one side was a padded table bolted to the floor and with straps along the sides and legs. A vaulting horse, like from a school gym was in a corner, also bolted to the floor, at the head was a facepiece with an internal knob. She assumed your face would press into the mask and the knob, well the knob would enter your mouth – and gag you!
So this is what they got up to, she thought. She was not naïve. She had heard about bondage and rubber fetishism, she’d heard about nightclubs and people dressing up in rubber. Tom and she had experimented a little with bondage, always at his insistence. She had played along; although she didn’t dislike it, sometimes she quite liked the constriction and she giggled and wriggled as he brought her to orgasm, but they did not do it very often. But that was all, she thought, quite naughty and innocent. She had even spanked him occasionally, but not too hard and he seemed to like that. She didn’t want to hurt him, but now on reflection maybe she should have!
There was also a rubber covered padded post, clearly for tying someone up, and whipping. She was catching on quickly. She stood up and tentatively opened up one of the closets. Her initial shock had been overcome by curiosity. From a row of hangers hung a wide variety of clothing. She noticed quickly they were all made of latex; the smell was unmistakable. She slipped her hands between the clothing; it was cool and smooth and shone under the lights. She didn’t find the aroma offensive, to the contrary in fact. She pulled out some of them for inspection – a full length cape, catsuits in different colours and designs, some exposing the breasts or holes for nipples to poke through. There were leotards with high and low necks, heavily boned corsets, with padded bras and thick reinforced gusset pieces.
Strangely, she found herself not shocked at all, some of the clothes were a little bizarre, but some – the catsuits and the corsets might be fun to wear, she thought. They would certainly flatter the figure as she could see they were figure hugging. There were stockings and tights in various colours – red, white, black and transparent; and there were gloves of all length and colours and thickness.
The next closet contained more intimidating attire, but she found herself beginning to get fascinated by this strange world she had stepped into. From a series of drawers she slowly pulled out and examined a whole series of masks, hoods and helmets. Some were without eye and mouth holes, some with and some without zips. She examined at length some that were made of two skins, which could then be pumped up with an attached inflator bulb; the inner skin would squeeze tightly against the wearers face. Phew, she thought, this was quite serious stuff. Several of the masks had built-in gags, some were in the shape of a cock, or a large rubber ball and some were inflatable like the helmet. What would it be like to be wearing one of these, she thought – deaf, dumb and blind, with rubber pressing in on all her pores. She wasn’t claustrophobic so this rather intrigued her.
Another drawer had a whole series of gags, with tubes or inflatable balls, or cocks. Almost without knowing what she was doing she slipped a ball gag into her mouth, tasting the cool pungent rubber on her compressed tongue. Mmmm, this is big; you could almost throttle on this, she thought. She wiped it dry and replaced it with the others. Another drawer had panties and girdles, all in latex. They ranged from thongs to bloomers, tight and loose. And some had inserts, cocks sticking up in the gusset, presumably to be stuck into your pussy….or up your rear! On occasion Tom, well greased, had bummed her and truth be told, at the right time and occasion she quite liked it, the feeling of fullness and restriction and her submissively kneeling in front of him as he rutted away. And the idea of walking around with a plug up your arse did make her chuckle a little. She was no prude but compared to this, well, perhaps just a little conventional. But as she always said, she didn’t preach – consenting adults and all that! That was fine by her, but these two consenting adults didn’t include her!
Her husband and her best friend were playing at who knows what – evidently she was not to be considered. Quickly she went through the remainder – there were bodybags with in-built sleeves and a front zip to a tight neck. There was one with an attached hood – once in there she thought you’d never get out unless your partner wanted it. There was even an inflatable one, once pumped up you’d be cocooned, mummified alive in rubber. And there were other “costumes” – a schoolgirl, a nun, a nurse and a tarty French maid. This was all for some role-playing, all in rubber and all fairly innocuous. Then there were cuffs, chains, straps and collars all in rubber or leather. Finally and this was no surprise, paddles, and whips and canes. After the last half hour she’d love to use these on Pat or Tom. In time, she thought, in time – all will be in the planning.
As she prepared to leave she noticed in one corner a video camera on a tripod and a VCR and TV with tapes underneath. How considerate, she thought, they’ve filmed it all for me! There were five tapes and she would not have time to view all of them. But with the help of fast forward she would get a feel. She pulled up a chair – padded, with cuffs at wrists and ankles and chest – strapped to this she would go nowhere.
For the next thirty minutes she viewed as much as she could – sometimes speeding up and then slowing down. At the end she felt quite exhausted. Images that would remain with her included the following:
-throughout all the tapes she was pleased to note that Tom and Pat did not have sex.
-the closest body contact they had was, and here Jo winced, when Pat with thick strap-on penis entered Tom’s rear. He wriggled and grunted but being tied to the vaulting horse and well gagged he could do little as she laughed and pushed slowly into him. Although she was horrified at first Jo was fascinated by the episode. Why did Tom want or like this? Why should she question why?
-most of the vignettes concerned elaborate dressing in strange costumes, masking and gagging and severe tying up. The choreography of the ritual fascinated her. The defined role-playing, submissive/dominant, nurse/patient (here Tom gave the stretched and exposed Pat an extensive enema, soon she groaned in her bonds and was released to relieve herself off camera) schoolgirl/teacher (here Tom dressed was a cheeky schoolgirl – looking quite sexy in make-up, short skirt and frilly knickers and being spanked by Pat dressed in cloak and mortarboard) and doggy/master (here Tom wore a strange catsuit that forced him to crawl on all fours, his limbs doubled up and zipped into short tubes, and with an anal probe stuck into her rear and as he waddled his tail wiggled). Jo actually laughed at this.
-some scenes were much more intense! One of the players was strung up and stretched out, legs and arms wide while covered in black latex, corseted, cocooned , gagged and masked and with yards of chain wrapped around waist, chest and through the crotch – so cruelly tight that it almost disappeared between the arse crack. Hardly able to move or make a sound the other soundly paddled away. At first she was shocked at the violence of it, but soon Jo found herself being aroused. She wanted to be the paddler, wanting to thrash the helpless victim. It didn’t matter if it was Tom or Pat, she wanted to hurt them. She would, with glee, paddle either or both of them.
But then something strange came over her, she imagined herself as the victim, powerless, mute, exposed and yet covered, vulnerable, biting down on the gag, gripping the chains, having her breasts fondled and slapped and her arse thoroughly paddled until she screamed for relief, a scream that could not be heard – and it would continue. Could this be what she really wanted? She noticed she was breathing fast, she tried to breathe more easily, and she returned the tapes, closed the closets, taking a last look at all the rubber clothes and turning the light off, left the room. She locked the room and returned upstairs to Pat.
She was still asleep, all innocence in cool silk blouse and short skirt. Jo imagined sticking a thick rubber cock in that sensuous mouth - that would quieten her! “Still waters” they say, well who would imagine a truly kinky couple in our neighbourhood?
Jo vowed there and then that Pat and Tom and she would soon meet under very different circumstances! Pat soon woke and Jo made a light reference to her nodding off – not saying it was for over an hour – and soon she made her goodbye.
Jo had planning to do, and that is what she did for the next week – meticulously. Revenge was on her mind, they had not had sex but she felt betrayed. She would invade their little world to give them something to think about. She thought she loved her husband, she thought she knew him, but evidently did not. But she knew more about him now. Why did he like all this stuff? Did it matter? Not really, she thought, but if he did, then why exclude her? Perhaps because he thought she would laugh at him, ridicule him. He was a passionate lover, but his kink he obviously thought he would have to satisfy somewhere else.
So over the week she planned a surprise for them both, action by action, scene by scene. By Friday, 6pm was his so-called squash date, she was ready. At 4pm, armed with muffins, she went over to Pat’s house. Not surprisingly Pat was shocked to see her but when Jo mentioned making too many muffins etc, etc then she could hardly turn her away. A cup of coffee? Yes, that would be nice, said Jo, just a quick one. Ten minutes later, with a clever sleight of hand as Pat looked away, the sleeping powder had done the job again. Jo, with heart pounding then went down to the basement.
She had planned all the clothes in advance and it took awhile to collect them all, along with a large tin of talc, which she had soon figured out she would need. She dumped the large pile of pungent rubber clothing on the floor in the living room. Pat was still flat out, Jo decided this was no time for niceties and in two minutes Pat was naked. Even Jo had to admit she had a really fine body, slim, firm good boobs. When pulling her pants off she noticed somewhat sheepishly that Pat had shaved her pudenda. She had no time to waste however and thought the best route would be to dress Pat first and then subdue her, just in case she woke up. She realised pushing a sleeping body into a tight rubber suit would be tough and so she stripped down to her bra and panties. She compared hers to Pats’ and thought she matched up pretty well.
She liberally dusted the inside of the suit and then Pat’s inert body. Quickly she realised she quite liked the soft, hairless skin, so unlike that of a man – it was an odd sensation for her. The suit was an amazing creation, all in one piece, leggings, feet, gloves and even a full head mask. There was a double zip extending from the belly button through the crotch and up the back to the neck. With a lot of gentle pulling, pushing and kneading it took her all of ten minutes to squeeze the lower half of her victim into the suit, then a further five minutes for the arms, squeezing out all the air pockets and wrinkles. Then Jo bent her over and stuffed her head with her mousy short hair through the narrow neck and into the full mask. She eased out all the air pockets and zipped her up to the neck. She had to admit that she did look fabulous, like a sleek seal with only her eyes, two small nostril holes and a mouth hole visible. All the rest was as if she was painted in shiny black tar.
Next she wrapped a heavily boned black rubber corset around her waist; she tightened it as best she could, pulling on the rear laces and front buckles. When she had her stretched out downstairs she could tighten them some more. She locked a three inch wide steel collar, rubber lined around her neck and over the zip, she’d not get out of the suit now, Jo had already hidden the key downstairs. The same key also fitted an adjustable steel belt that she wrapped around Pat’s waist. It locked by way of a handcuff-type ratchet and Jo could tighten it later after she had pulled in the corset and inch or two! Rubber-lined steel cuffs and anklets were then wrapped around her extremities and then she attached a short 18 inch chain between ankles, and cuffed the two wristbands to rings on the steel belt with snap fastenings.
She stood back to admire her work – not bad for a neophyte she thought. Pat was truly trussed, and a very attractive package, she could see how people got off on bondage; Pat was there to be ravaged! But she had no time to savour it. She stripped out of her bra and panties, noticing strangely she was just a little moist, must be the excitement, she thought. She dusted herself and shivered uncontrollably as she slipped her feet into the clinging black catsuit. This had a double zip too, from her backside through her crotch and up to a tight collar, much easier for getting into.
As she pulled it slowly up her legs she felt its cool cling, like satin or silk but much firmer, it gripped her in a firm and yet somehow comforting way. She slid her arms into the sleeves and pushed into the attached gloves, easing out air and smoothing wrinkles. Slowly, almost sensuously, she drew up the front zip, adjusting her breasts into the rubber cups - and here she noted her nipples were hard, must be the coolness of the rubber she thought. She let out a short breath; the rubber was still cool and gripping every inch of her. Her breasts pointed out like upturned cups and when she touched herself there she felt hard nodules on the inside of the rubber cones rub up against her nipples. Her legs were firm, shiny, long and muscled. Without a doubt this rig definitely improved her figure. It seemed to tuck her in and push her out in all the right places!
She wrapped around her a rubber waspie, front laced and pulled on them until she was slightly short of breath. She liked the restriction and it even pushed out her boobs more! Then she realised she should have put on the front lacing knee high boots – with four inch heels – before, because leaning over to her shins was now quite difficult. But she managed it and stood. She felt quite strange - imperious, tall, booted, corseted and suited! All she needed now was a mask but that would be for later. She slipped high-heeled pumps onto Pat who began to slowly wake up, perfect timing. Jo took a blindfold and a thick rubber cock gag and fastened one of the stud fastenings on each of them to the studs on the side of Pat’s mask – a quick pass over eyes and mouth, pushing the gag in hard of course, and she’d be blind and mute! First however they had some talking to do.
Jo slapped her face, not too gently, through the mask, and stood back, hands resting on hips, breasts thrust out, quite a sight for the awakening Pat.
“Wakey, wakey Pat, sleep’s over.”
“Wha....jeez, what is going…what the hell is…Jo! Oh my God!”
“Quiet Pat, my so-called best friend, well, we’ll see about that. Now shut up and listen well. I’ll say this only once, as you can see you are trussed up and dressed in your favourite rubber, and so am I, but I’ve no chains or cuffs of course, nor mask. So Pat, very quickly, ‘cos you are a smart girl, you will have figured out that I know your little secret, yes, your secret with Tom. You remember Tom, my husband!”
“Shut it, Pat. I’ll do the talking; actually I might as well use the gag, and see how efficient it is. Suck on this for a while!” despite Pat wriggling, Jo gripped the gag and crammed it into Pat’s protesting mouth.
“Arrggh, ga mmmfff.” And then there was blissful silence, as Jo pressed hard on the stud at her cheek. Pat glared at her and mmmed something but the gag was very effective. Jo quite enjoyed silencing her in such an efficient way.
“That’s a lot better, now where was I? Oh, yes, well Pat, I’ve seen your little den and some of the tapes and what you and my husband get up to. Not too sordid, quite interesting really, very pervy. Now you can nod and shake your head to all my questions, and don’t lie Pat, I can’t take lies. I will find out what I need to, looking at the tapes and when Tom comes over, he will also be interrogated, so you better have the story straight!”
Pat moaned into her gag but she could do nothing. She was well and truly trussed, hands at belt, ankles cuffed, corseted and the steel collar too. She’d had to admit Jo had done as good a job as Pat would have done herself! Maybe she should have invited her to some of the sessions, she thought ruefully - she’s really very attractive, and I’ve always had a little fancy for her. Although she was powerless, rubberised and gagged, she found it faintly exciting. This was unplanned, it could go anywhere, and it was scary but a little exciting all the same.
“Okay Pat, did you ever, ever fuck my husband?” Pat gave a vigorous shake.
“I’ll take that as a no; although I did see you fuck him in the arse!” Pat gave a rueful nod; she could hardly stop herself smiling at that.
“Do you love him?” Shake.
“Do you like him, for all the games you get up to, he’s good for that, yes?” A nod, She mmmffed into the gag, Pat wanted to explain, but Jo was very much in control.
“And this has been going on for, what, six months?” A nod.
“Where did you get all the clothes? Did Tom buy them?” A nod and a shake.
“Some of them?” A nod.
“Who bought the rest, you?” A shake.
“Oh, I’m beginning to get it, it was Dan; he bought them and this is what you got up to. And now you miss all that. You played with yourself after died and then shall we say, recruited Tom.” Tears appeared in Pat’s eyes behind her mask, of remorse, remembrance, self-pity, guilt - all, probably, thought Jo.
“Well, a part of me, a bloody small part feels sorry for you Pat. Yes, you got screwed, Dan died in his prime and I am truly sorry. You were left on your own along with your little playpen and a lot of rubber and bondage gear and you needed someone to play with. But why Tom, eh?” Jo viciously pulled at the snap fastening of Pat’s gag and pulled the dripping cock from her mouth.
“Does it really matter what I say? You are going to fuck with me anyway. Well, for what it is worth, here’s the truth. In very innocent conversations with Tom, I mentioned I was lonely and very slowly it came out that Dan and I liked to dress up and play bondage games. He’d make love to me like that and I missed it so much. He said that you did that sometimes too, and he said you liked it all right but did not want to go any further as he did not want to lose you. He loves you but he thinks you would laugh at his pervy nature. Slowly I mentioned dressing in latex, the cling, the aroma, the sheen, and how it has the ability to make a great body look even better. For Christ’s sake Jo, look at yourself, you look fucking fantastic.”
“Never mind the flattery, get on with the story.” But Jo did look good and she knew it, and more to the point, she felt it too. The rubber was now warm and it clung to her every pore, and she liked that feel.
“Well it just gradually developed, a little tying up and spanking, then a little rubber and more bondage and then some role playing.
“Yeah, I saw that, schoolgirl Tom and doggie Tom.”
“Look it was all very innocent, we never had sex, but he got and I still get hugely turned on by rubber. Be honest Jo, when he left me, later that night or next morning, didn’t you have the best love making you ever had?”
“Yes, yes he did, that was what me got to thinking, what was I doing to get him aroused, but it wasn’t me was it, he was getting aroused somewhere else!”
“As I said he puts you on a pedestal, he still thinks all this,” she shook her manacled hands and feet, “as a bit too naughty for you. Not me, no I got over that a long time ago with Dan. We didn’t have long together but man, we went to the moon.” She started to whimper again.
“Don’t cry on me Pat, you could have done something, told me, encouraged me, but no, you took him for yourself and now you want credit for him making great love to me, Well, that’s a bit sweet I think. No, you’re culpable and I do intend to punish you, both of you. Because if nothing else, it will make me feel better.
“Well, I can’t argue with that. If you punish me as well as you dress me and tie me up, it should be a good one. But Jo, I should warn you, I like being tied up and punished, remember?” she smiled ay t the thought of it, and Jo said.
“Well I’ll have to come up with something original won’t I? I’m sure I can, and maybe you won’t enjoy it quite so much as you think. Maybe I won’t know when to stop, no safe words for me. I’ll just keep on going. Now it’s time to get you downstairs to your little lair. From now on the less you talk the less likely I am to feel sympathy for you. I have after all to concentrate on the punishments in hand!” Pat didn’t feel quite so confident as Jo crammed the black rubber cock back into her mouth, pushing in the stud firmly.
“Up you get, you know the way, careful with your feet, the chain is quite short and your heels are high. I’ll hold on to your shoulders as you go down the stairs. Don’t want you hurting yourself, before I can get to hurt you.” She smiled and steadied Pat as she gingerly stepped down the stairs, the chains clanking between her ankles. Jo stopped her in the middle of the bondage room, below a wide horizontal bar. From one of the closets she found a spreader bar and unlocking her ankle chains attached one side to one anklet and then, slapping Pat’s leg with the command “wider, wider” attached the other to the opposite anklet. Pat was well stretched now, her legs fully three feet apart and she felt a little wobbly on her high heels now. Jo now looked into Pat’s eyes.
“I’m beginning to enjoy this.” She lowered the bar above Pat’s head by way of the winch on the wall and then attached her wrists at either end. Now Pat’s arms were stretched three feet wide.
“Now the fun part.” Said Jo, turning the winch and pulling Pat’s arms up until her weight was evenly taken on arms and legs. Jo groaned into her gag, this girl was good, she thought! She could only move her head, nothing else. Jo ran her hands over the tight rubber skin, then went behind her, loosened the laces to the corset, placed her knee in the small of Pat’s back and started to tighten them further. Little by little the laces were pulled in. Pat gasped but every time she breathed out, Jo cheerily pulled in the laces. Finally content with the hourglass figure in front of her, she tied off the corset and pulled in the steel belt two more notches. Tom had never done this to Pat, she thought as she struggled for breath, and balance.
“I feel like a black widow, is it a black widow? Anyway you’re in my web now, Pat. How do you feel? It is uncomfortable, I’ll guess, worse that Tom would do to you. But then this is not quite the same game is it? Now Pat, I’m going to beat you, it will maybe make you feel better, assuaging your guilt, but it will certainly make me feel better. I want to punish you Pat, to remind you what you did. For whatever reason it was wrong and you know it. So before Tom arrives for his session, I’ll get in some exercise, on that nice shiny, tight rubber bottom.”
She pulled a large leather paddle out of the closet and displayed it in front of Pat, taunting her.
“Maybe a 100 with this for starters, the rubber suit will protect you a lot” A hundred? Pat’s eyes nearly popped out of her mask. The most Tom had done was maybe 40 or 50, some hard and some not so hard, but a hundred, jeez, and Pat knew that Jo was not going to hold back!
And she didn’t. Moving to Pat’s left side, she began to swing hard with the paddle at her rubber encased buttocks. At each strike, Pat although almost on tiptoe, swung forward. After twenty or so – Pat wasn’t counting – her buttocks were on fire. She was pleased to see Jo take a rest, and move if front of her, her cheeks reddening.
“Enjoying it so far?” Pat shook her head and grunted no.
“Well too bad, because there will be plenty more. I think I’ll try with my left arm now.” The next twenty didn’t hurt quite so badly. She didn’t hit quite so hard with her left, but Pat’s buttocks were almost numb now. Saliva dribbled down her gag as she bit down on the thick cock. Jo smeared the saliva with her gloved hand, over Pat’s pushed-out breasts. Then she returned to her left side and gave her twenty more slow strokes. At the end Pat’s head was slumped on her chest, her breathing was a little unsteady, and she was virtually hanging from her wrists. Jo took a glass from the bathroom, filled it with water and released Pat’s gag, a flow of saliva dripped down her chest. Pat gulped in air and groaned, then coughed as Jo gave her the water.
“Christ, I’m going to be scarred for life.”
“Hardly Pat, but anyway I thought you were tough, this not turn you on?” She joked.
“A little over the top, even for me. You certainly swing a good paddle; I thought I was going to pass out for a minute there. My backside is on fire. Jo, my arms are starting to go a bit numb.”
“I’ll let you drop them for a couple of minutes, but don’t think I’m going soft. I haven’t finished my session yet!” She lowered the horizontal bar but Pat’s wrists were still tethered at each end. Pat closed her eyes and breathed slowly, not moving as her legs were still stretched wide. Jo moved closer and gave her another drink.
“So how long is your revenge going to last, until tomorrow, the weekend, for as long as you choose?”
“Don’t get too cheeky Pat. Remember I’m the one with the paddle. For as long as it takes for me to feel revenged. For it to be out of my system. However long it takes.” She smiled as she returned to the winch and raised pat’s arms up again. Stretching her to the limit.
“Jesus, that’s enough.” She said, but Jo merely took the shiny wet gag in her hand and pulling hard down on Pat’s chin brutally pushed it into her mouth, snapping the button at her cheek. I’ll decide when enough is enough, Pat. You are due 40 more so hang on for the ride.”
This time there was no break; with five second intervals she gave Pat 40 measured strokes. At the end Jo could feel sweat build up in her suit, and with no place to escape. Pat’s head was slumped again, and her legs had given way. Her breathing through her nose was laboured and Jo released her gag. Pat coughed loudly, spittle dribbling from her lips.
“Mmm, not very ladylike. Well I must say I enjoyed that. I’m getting into this. The boots and the waspie and the tight suit seem to empower me.” Pat said nothing, breathing slowly and quietly, saliva dripping down her front. She was exhausted, battered and shattered, she needed to rest.
“You’ll need a rest now.” Jo said, as if reading her mind. From the closet she pulled out a rubber body bag. Pat was in no condition to fight as Jo released her from the spreader bar from her feet and then lowered the bar holding her hands. She led her to the bed, Jo removed her shoes and Pat stepped into the single leg of the bag and slipped her arms down the internal sleeves of the bag. As Jo started to zip her up Pat came out of her daze and started to wriggle – too late.
“How long will you keep me in this?”
“Don’t know, depends on how long I need to teach Tom his lesson.” She zipped it up over Pat’s tight steel collar and now Pat really did resemble a seal. No arms, no legs, just a shiny smooth black outline. Jo unclipped the blindfold and the gag and searched for something in the drawers.
“I think you need to be punished a bit more, just a reminder of who is boss now!” she produced a thick double skinned inflatable helmet with perspex eyepieces and an inflatable breath through gag. Before Pat could yelp she pulled it down over Pat’s shiny black dome. Pat wagged her head to no avail as Jo firmly pushed the soft bladder into her mouth. Now at least she could breathe. Quickly Jo pumped up the helmet, and Pat felt the pressure all over her head. Content that the helmet was at its maximum, she smiled at Pat through her lenses and pumped up her gag, turning her mute. Pat pleaded with her eyes – no good – Jo pushed her backwards and she bounced onto the bed. Pat wriggled up the bed and rested her inflated head on the rubber pillow. She glared at Jo through her lenses and mmmed into her gag, but only the wheezing of her breathing could be heard. She could barely move, her arms trapped at her sides and her legs trapped in a single leg. And she had the heavy corset around her torso. She looked like a slick black seal, with a strange bulbous head.
She was now at the mercy of Jo, her best friend or so she thought. It seemed that Jo was really getting into this. She could really tie up and paddle, and Pat did think she looked great in the catsuit, waspie and boots. Pat watched as Jo pulled a tight mask over her face and head. It had no mouth hole but clear lenses and two nose tubes pushed up her nostrils. It gave her a blank, anonymous expression and poor Tom would never detect it was Jo and not Pat who would greet him at the door, their bodies were so similar.
Jo leaned over and patted her on her bloated head, then turned out the light and closed the door. Pat could only wait for Jo, and Tom to return.