BINDING AGREEMENT, Part III
Bonda was alone in her bound, blind, silent prison. She felt her body perched on
the screw of the chastity built and tried to wiggle to see if she could arouse
her. All she aroused was the renewed sensation of the threads pressed against
her puss, and those two throbbing monsters wedged inside her. She concentrated
on her fingers. She could not wiggle a one. She concentrated on her toes,
severely pointed downward so that they nearly bent backwards. She sucked on the
invader in her mouth. She imagined this as an engorged lover. She tried to move
her tongue around it. No luck. She tried to bite it. Figures, she thought. That
spot is reinforced and too hard to bite.
Finally, she concenrated on the air valves in her nose. She breathed in, then
out. In, then out. In, then out. As she breathed, she could feel her nipples
strain. She tried to swivel her cage. Her nipples pulled in rythem. She was
almost panting. Was it her breathing, her nipples, or what? Her crotch felt
warm. She tried to clench her hands. She felt the bumps on her buttocks and she
was clearly panting now. She was turned on.
"I'm a slave," she thought to herself. "I'm really a slave. How exciting!"
She tried to work herself into an orgasm, but the harder she tried, the more
frustrated she became. She was a sweaty, panting slave. She wiggled and squirmed
wherever she felt any room. Soon, her latex coccoon was swinging forward and
back, from side to side.
Unknown to her, Mistress Sally and Tyrenna happened to be passing through the
foyer at that very moment, dragging another slave off to a punishment room.
"Think she's freaking out up there?" asked Tyrenna as she played with the
exposed nipples of the bound beauty beside her.
"No, dear," said Mistress Sally. "I think she's playing with herself. We'll have
to expand her punishment in the morning," the Mistress said, holding her hands
out far apart in front of her.
"Oh no," said Tyrenna as both women laughed and dragged their rubberized slave
toward her next predicament.
Meanwhile, inside her latex prison, Bonda was hot, sweaty, tired and really,
really horny.
She was too tired to try anymore, though. She tried to resume normal breathing.
As the sweat poured from her, she felt herself go almost slippery inside her hot
little home. M-m-m-m. This isn't bad, she thought. Maybe I can get some rest.
She started feeling herself breathe in shorter, shallower breaths. She was
almost dozing when she felt a cramp in her leg. She tried to reach. No chance.
Her nipples were itching. She could do nothing. Her puss itched. Her hair was
wet with sweat and the sweat touched her lips. She tasted its salty tang. Those
bumps in her buttocks were starting to feel like needles.
"Please," she thought, "let me down. Let me scratch."
No one could read her thoughts, though, and her thoughts and fantasies were her
only company. She thought how exciting it would be for her to be let down from
this bondage high by a dark, handsome stranger who would wash her, towel her,
wrap her up in rubber again and ravage her. That only made her sweat. And the
more she sweated, the more she itched.
My nipples, she thought. Oh, how they ache. It's as if my Master has decided to
lead me around, bound up, with my nipples on a leash. Could that be done, she
wondered? Would he take me to am S/M bar and tie the leash to the bar?
Once again, she got hot.
And once again, she itched.
And once again, she dreamed.
She thought of the shower scene from Psycho. But instead of stabbing her, her
attacker wraps her up in the shower curtain, and binds her head in a bathing cap
and gas mask.
Then he takes a feather duster and a vibrator and toys with her nipples and
puss. Then he binds her to the pole with electrical tape, from head to toe,
still wrapped up in the plastic, with her nipples still available.
Too much, she thought.
"I'm getting too hot and too frustrated," she said to herself.
She wiggled and fussed and finally cried. Her tears ran to the tip of her nose.
Great. Now her nose itched.
Once again, far below her, Mistress Sally and Tyrenna were passing through, this
time on their way to retiring for the night.
"She really is having fun up there, isn't she." Tyrenna said as she watched the
cage rock and twist.
"No, dear," said Mistress Sally. "I think she's learning a painful lesson."
"What's that?" asked Tyrenna.
"Well, you could say she's made her bed," Mistress Sally said, "and now she has
to sweat in it."
Once again, the women giggled as they headed down the hall, leaving Bonda to her
bonds.
And up above, Bonda's mind was racing.
"Are my eyes open or not?" she thought to herself. "I can't tell. Everything's
dark. Am I really experiencing this, or is it all a dream? If this is a dream,
why don't I wake up and get Vito, my faithful vibrator."
She rocked back and forth.
"This is no dream," she thought. "I really am hanging her, helpless, with nasty
things everywhere, and no way to play."
And so it went.
Bonda got no sleep.
Bonda got no orgasm.
All she got was one sensation overcoming another, with an infrequent cramp to
annoy her in ways her buttocks bumps and pointed toes and restraints and gags
and nipple pumps didn't do.
"I'm really a slave," she'd tell herself, and she'd get aroused again. She'd
breathe deeply, quickly, erotically. But for naught.
Would this be her permanent slavery? Probably not.
She was sure her captors would devise worse.
And indeed they would.
For as the thought about the possibilities, she felt herself being lowered to
the floor.
"Thank God," she thought. "Maybe I'll be free."
When the base of her cage hit the floor, she heard Mistress Sally's voice
through her earphones.
"We have a wonderful day of self-punishment lined up for you, with paddles and
clamps and a tongue depressor," Mistress Sally said. "But Ty is a little tied up
right now, so I thought I'd treat you first to our own version of a blow job.
Are you ready?"
Bonda shook.
"Left you speechless?" Mistress Sally asked. "Very well. Let me explain. We're
encasing you in a heavy rubber body bag that will totally enclose you, except
for two air holes. Then we will inflate it. As the air goes in, you'll feel your
latex coccoon press even tighter against your flesh. Then we will let you hang
up high again, dangling there, trapped inside a bell-shaped balloon. The shape
is appropriate because, well, you'll find out."
Bonda moaned into her muzzled mouth. She felt the balloon lifted around her and
pumped up and up and up. The hard rubber had little way to give, except at
Bonda's expense. Her latex prison pressed against her everywhere, putting extra
pressure on every crack and joint. As she was lifted back up into the air, she
itched everywhere, especially her puss, her nipples, her butt, her head, her
knees, her?well, everywhere.
As she was lifted up and up, her bell-shaped bondage balloon swayed from side to
side, so it looked like a bell being rung in a cathedral.
She could hear Mistress Sally's voice in her ear pieces.
"Someday we'll have to fit you into the rubber-and-metal clanger suit we have
and let you feel the sensation of having your striking form striking the side of
a real bell every hour on the hour. But for now, I know you're itching to get on
with your self-punishment. So just amuse yourself up there until Ty comes for
you - if she comes for you?I do hope this isn't her day off."
Up in her bell bondage, Bonda twisted and whined. She was so close to an orgasm.
So close. She rode the threads of the bolt on her chastity belt. She squirmed
around on her puss. She twisted her nipples for a response.
"Oh, lord," she said, "if I could only move a little more and sweat a little
less. "
She sucked on her gag.
Try as she might, she couldn't make herself bring herself off.
