Quiet Friday Night In

 

Fresh from the shower, you pad almost silently across the shagpile carpet, naked as the day you were born, short, mousey brown hair still glistening with moisture.

Light glints from both breasts and from between your legs, the stainless steel of your permanent piercings making it's presence noticed.

You stand before me, slender, small breasted, almost skinny, shivering slightly in the cold air from the air conditioning, skin so pale from a lack of sunlight, with head slightly bowed and arms at your side, quiescent, obedient.

Well let's start with the first catsuit, fashioned of the finest tissue thin transparent rubber.

It encases you in it's gossamer touch, head to toe in saffron tinted glossy latex, open only at nose, mouth, nipples and groin, I close the back zip from waist to crown, as the zipper closes the suit enfolds you in it's sensual caress, it's gentle pressure forcing you to close your eyes.

Bereft of sight you tremble in anticipation, straining with your other senses, as I cinch the long tight corset around you, closing and lacing it's steel and rubber embrace, drawing the laces tighter, almost squeezing you in half as the edges of the corset finally touch, I tie the laces off in a treble knot that won't be easy to release.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to breath against the restriction of the steel stays that run from chest to pelvis, reshaping your body into the idealized male fantasy.

The first half of the second layer is eased onto you like a pair of rubber tights, one leg then the other slides into the depths of the jet black sheath.

Your cinnamon tinted glistening body is consumed by the ravening maw of the ebony second skin, as it reaches the top of your thighs you feel something blunt and cold press against your sex, the thick ribbed dildo slowly shoulders it's way past your labia, stretching and filling you.

You've barely drawn breath after your first lust filled moan when another blunt, slick shaft presses into your rear, you whimper as I push both invaders inside you then squeal when I grab the sheath front and rear and pull upward, stretching the latex sheath over your lower body, snapping tight around your corseted waist, driving both gnarled shafts to the hilt inside you.

Your knees buckle as the raised nodules surrounding the bases of the dildoes press deep into the tender flesh around your rapacious, distended lower mouths and the longer 'fingers' press around and against your ever so sensitive pearl.

With the lower half in place and demanding your full attention, I ease the upper half into place.

Turned almost inside out the glossy black helmet encases your head, soft foam pads press against your rubber covered eyes, ensuring that sight becomes a distant memory, the latex continues to engulf you, a thick phallic shaft cleaves your lips, filling your mouth, the rubber continues downward, your mouth closes around the base of the gag, the tightness of the hood forces you to bite down, your teeth settle into the grooves in the gag, silencing you without distorting the outline of your face under it's tight rubber shroud.

I slide your arms into the sleeves until your hands nestle into the snug, ovoid fingerless mittens, pulling hard I stretch the sleeves up your arms, then pull the rest of the upper sheath down your upper body, taking care to ensure that the small inwardly spiked domes at the tip of each breast cup settle snugly into place around your ever so tender pierced nipples.

The upper sheath snaps down around your waist, overlapping the lower, I roll back the bottom edge, smear solvent glue on both surfaces, then stroke the overlapping section back down, sealing you inside, encased, deaf, dumb, blind, penetrated and very thoroughly stimulated.

Soft, muffled moans and a slow grinding of your hips indicate your attention is elsewhere as I pick up the third layer of your very personal and very intimate bondage.

Fleshtone latex, a creamy coffee colour, engulfs the slowly undulating blank ebony cypher in front of me, moulded plastic stays in the feet force your feet into a tiptoe position, the lubricated sheath eases higher up your glistening form, I place your mittened hands on my shoulders to help you balance as I continue transforming you into a living doll.

This final layer is tailored to fit your corseted form, it hugs tightly to your already double sheathed body, dense foam inserts give you curving hips and jutting breasts, the kind you always dreamed of having.

As I pull the sleeves up your arms more shaped plastic stays moulded into the sheath clamp around your hands, creating the illusion of separate fingers, when in reality your fingers are gripped together by thick tight latex.

The built in hood is stretched up and over your blank glossy black head, carefully sculpted and made up, almost stylized, features settle into place, deliberately designed to look nothing like the woman imprisoned within.

Again the room is filled with the acrid taint of solvents as the back seam is glued shut, sealing you inside the third and final layer of your new skin.

Muffled moans filter through the multiple layers of thick latex clamped to your head, ignoring them I begin to dress the coffee skinned rubber doll teetering on tiptoe in front of me.

First a black silky bra and panties, suspenders, then back seamed stockings, a white silk blouse, a short leather skirt, a fashionable leather jacket and finally six inch stiletto heeled knee high leather boots.

A thick, high collar clamped around your neck, combined with the concealed corset, forces you to adopt a straight backed, almost regal pose, as I fasten the steel and rubber cuffs around your wrists and ankles.

I reach up and unbind the false hair of your new skin, blonde, almost white hair cascades down past your stringently confined waist.

I guide you to a chair, isolated, on it's own under a bright spotlight, I gently ease you down onto the seat, straightbacked, head held high, I thread padlocks through the rings on your restraints, each staccato click signalling the loss of yet another freedom you once took for granted.

When finally you are secured, sitting demurely, legs crossed, clasped hands resting on your knees, I settle into the big comfy leather chair facing your blind, deaf and dumb figure

I open the bottle of wine resting in the ice bucket, pour myself a glass, then, glass poised, pick up the remote control from the coffee table.

With a twisted grin I turn all the controls to maximum, toss the remote onto the table and take a sip of the chilled wine as the powerful vibrators roar into life inside you.

"Are we having fun yet?"

My only reply is a muffled scream.

 

04.02.06