Chapter II
The chains jingled as she was led down the short passageway. As she stepped out
of the dungeons she paused for a second to let her eyes get used to the sun.
The guard jerked viciously at the chain and she stumbled forward as the choker
bit into her neck. Her hands were bound by manacles and chains around her waist
and she could do nothing but follow obediently. She blinked as she was led over
a sandy pathway to a raised platform. It was the first time in five days she
was allowed to see the sun and it took a few minutes to get used to it's bright
glare. By the time she could see normally they had reached the platform and she
was led up a set of stairs. The going was difficult as her legs had been bound
with heavy iron manacles, a short chain restricting the length of her stride. As
she climbed the steps she saw a crowd of men standing on the other side of the
platform. They were all dressed in the flowing robes of Arabs and they joked
and laughed in conversation. As she was led to a stake in the middle of the
platform they settled down and looked her over. She blushed deeply as dozens of
faces watched her arms being raised over her head and bound to a short chain
hanging from the top of the stake. She'd been expecting this occa- sion for
several days but that did not make it any easier. The guard turned to face her
and with one swift jerk her robe was pulled off her body. He stepped out of the
way for the audience to see and she squirmed and struggled as they verbally
admired every inch of her naked body. A fat little man appeared out of nowhere
and started talking rapidly. Al- though she could not understand a word it was
obvious that the bidding had begun. She was so ashamed she wished she could
sink into the ground. Instead she was made to pose for the audience, the guard
using her shoulders to turn her this way and that. She desperately tried to
raise her leg to cover her sex, but the short chain between her ankles made
that impossible. The guard was standing behind her, his arms reaching around the
pole while he held her firmly. She struggled for a bit but realized it was
fruitless. She closed her eyes and hung from the chains, defeated and
powerless. Suddenly the guards rough hands started exploring her body. Her eyes
jerked open as he found her breasts. She struggled and cursed anew as he
rubbed, squeezed and twisted her breasts. The audience loved the sight of her
squirming and twisting and they shouted encouragement and suggestions to the
guard. His hands were everywhere, stroking her neck, fondling her breasts,
pinching her arse. She though she would die of shame as his hand found her sex
and the slick wetness told her of her body's betrayal. He was as ugly as sin,
but his hands were expert. Soon she was heaving and moaning as his hand cajoled
her into rhythmic convulsions. His other hand kept on roaming and it sent
shivers of delight down her body wherever it went. She closed her eyes to hide
her shame. She could feel the orgasm coming and slowly her body took over. For
a brief moment she thought of the spectacle she was making of herself, but her
fear and pride was soon overtaken by a deeper, more powerful emotion. Blind and
deaf to everything but her own throbbing body she at last at- tained the freedom
she desired.
Sharon suddenly came awake. The memory of her dream quickly faded away as she
lay on her back trying to blink herself fully awake. For a few moments she was
confused, she was in her bedroom but the light was all wrong. The room was full
of shadows and shades. Although the dream had faded it's effects on her body
had not, and she absent- mindedly stroked her sex. The hard smooth surface
caused her memories to come flood- ing back and she sat up with a gasp. She
realized the light was wrong because it was late afternoon and the sun was
setting. Mother nature was calling and she walked into the bathroom,
absentmindedly scratching the irritating wire in her butt. She knew that
urinating with the suit on was going to be difficult, but she also knew that
she had no choice. She seated herself on the toilet and waited. Nothing
happened. She tried as hard as she could to relax, but the harder she tried the
more nervous she became. The object in her sex was too distracting and
concentrating on urinating made her even more aware of it. After a long while
of painful waiting she got angry and was about to get up when the golden fluid
started flowing. She settled and looked down in the bowl. It was obvious that
the urine was coming out of one of the three holes at the bottom of the suit.
It felt so strange to be uri- nating with an object in her sex. She sat for a
moment and frowned. Something weird was going on. She smiled a wry cynical
smile. "Something weirder than usual" she told herself. Although the urine was
flowing, she could not feel it. It felt strange but somehow familiar. It was as
if the urine was flowing through a .. a .. pipe? With a start she realized that
she was urinating through a catheter. The thought made her tense up and
immediately the urine stopped flowing. She cursed and tried to relax. Slowly
the urine started trickling out again. She had first hand experience in using a
catheter. The previous year she'd had a IUD installed, but there had been
complications. The doctor had failed to hook it into one of the tubes. In his
attempts to adjust it the idiot had used forceps and he had managed to get some
skin from inside her labia squeezed in between the handles. The moment he
pressed down to get a grip on the forceps he received a very hard kick to a very
tender part of his anatomy. Sharon was left with a very sore welt on the inside
of her labia, the doctor with a weeks sick leave. A nurse from his practice had
finished the installation and installed a catheter to prevent infection. For a
week she had to use the thing while her tender skin healed. What she remembered
most was the embarrassing loss of bladder control. In this case it was
obviously different, she'd been sleeping with a full bladder and yet nothing
had leaked out. If it had been the hospital's catheter she would have wet the
whole bed. In an attempt to learn more she squeezed and relaxed her sex muscles.
She believed she could feel the faint outline of a small tube between her lips.
However, the pumping made her acutely aware of the other larger object in her
sex. Soon the pipe was forgotten as she concentrated on the object. The first
thing she noticed was that it was to the rear of her sex, removed from her
clit. The second was that it's stem was very narrow, allowing her lips to close
around the object and seal her slit. As the stem went deeper in- side her it
suddenly expanded until it was about as thick as her thumb. It went in all the
way, as deep as is possible. She could even imagine it's tip resting against the
IUD. She began to think of it as a thin, long dildo. A dildo forced in all the
way inside her with a small stick keeping it attached to the suit on the
outside. She was finished with the toilet and she flushed the liquid away. She
got some toilet paper and cleaned the last few drops on the outside of the suit
as well. It felt so weird to clean her body without actually feeling it, al-
most like polishing a ring on her finger. In a daze she walked back to the
bedroom and lay down. This was just too much to deal with. She lay on the bed,
trying to prevent the grow- ing sense of doom and desperation overpowering her.
The day was barely over and she felt like she'd aged decades. What the hell was
going on? How was she supposed to deal with this? The questions rolled through
her stressed mind like thunder. Why? Who? How? For a while she could just lie
there, sobbing like a child.
After a good cry she managed to pull herself together. She got up and decided
that she needed a shower. She could feel a deep dark depression lying just over
the horizon. If she didn't pull herself together she might get into some
serious trouble. Deciding to simply ig- nore her predicament she removed the
T-shirt and stepped into the shower. The flood of hot water was soothing and
soon she felt better. However there was no escape from the suit, especially
standing 'naked' in the shower. What precautions was she going to have to take?
She supposed that would depend on how long she was to wear the blasted thing.
She tried to convince herself that it would be short-term, maybe a day or two.
"You're kid- ding yourself" said a little voice from deep within her. "Who ever
made this thing spent a lot of time and effort on it. There is no way that
you're going to get out of this within at least a week." Her legs almost
buckled at the thought. "It might even be months." the voice continued. The
thought was too much to bear. She tried to kill the voice by washing her hair.
It would not go away. "What do you think this thing is going to do to your body?
The chafing, the aching, the itching in places you can't reach. Remember that
plaster cast you had to wear in third grade? Remember the itching?" Her tears
mingled with the water as her hands went through the motions of washing her
hair. "And do you have any idea what that dildo is going to do to your innards?
Remember when you got the IUD? The cramps, the aches? You had to take medicine
for months to suppress the contractions. You'd better face it girl - this is
going to be a rough ride." She cursed the voice and threw the shampoo bottle in
rage. "Fuck this! Fuck THIS! I'm getting of this train, right here right now"
she screamed at the walls. She stormed from the shower, water splashing every-
where. In a blind fury she stormed to the kitchen. An old boyfriend had once
left some tools at her place and she rummaged through the cupboards looking for
them. Finally she managed to find a set of pliers. She forced it in under the
seam over her shoulder. Twist- ing and screaming she tried to tear the suit off,
but it would not budge. She jerked the pli- ers out and attacked the wire
between her cheeks. It would not even bend. Realizing it wasn't working she
dropped the pliers and dove back into the cupboards. When she could not find
any other tools she collapsed onto her knees, beating the suit with her fists.
Fi- nally she was so exhausted she was forced to calm down. She'd never lost it
so badly in her life. If there had been another living being in the house she
would have torn it to pieces with her bare hands. Getting up she noticed the
pain in her shoulder. She'd broken the skin when she'd forced the pliers in and
a small trickle of blood rolled down her shoul- der. The blood immediately
sobered her up and she realized how stupid she'd been. Run- ning her hand over
her butt she was relieved to find that she'd only pinched the flesh, there was
no serious damage. Defeated she returned to the bathroom to turn the water off.
Sharon sat in front of the TV but she didn't even look at the screen. Her
shoulder was throbbing slightly and the skin around the wire had turned blue.
After her outburst she'd tried to tend to her wound as best she could. At the
end all she could do was to force a q- tip with disinfectant under the suit and
rub it over the wound. It had hurt like a bitch and she'd cursed her own
stupidity several times. After cleaning and drying the house she'd made herself
some food and settled down to eat. The tight waist of the suit had held her
hunger at bay, and she'd only been able to pick at her food. She was wearing the
night- gown with a fresh T-shirt. She'd told herself that she was wearing the
clothes to keep from going into a rage again, but in the deepest darkest
corners of her soul she knew it to be a lie. The reason she'd worn the clothes
was to keep from seeing the suit - not because it reminded her of her
predicament but because it turned her on. As she sat on the couch, her legs
drawn under her, she could no longer avoid the truth. The throbbing of her nip-
ples and the trembling in her sex proclaimed her a liar. She tried to fool
herself into be- lieving it was merely because of the dildo, but she knew that
to be a lie as well. She shifted in her chair and tried to concentrate on the
TV, but the argument between her ra- tional and emotional sides raged on. She'd
always had a kinky streak in her - she knew that well enough. She even had a
few toys in a box at the bottom of her closet. They were innocent enough, the
odd vibrator and dildo. The leather harness that kept them strapped to her body
was a bit weird, true, but she needed it for when she slept with her toys on.
The casual observer would probably not even notice the two small padlocks at the
bottom of the box, not unless he knew what he was looking for. He'd have to dig
around in the back of her freezer to make the connection. If he looked
carefully in the right place he might discover the two large ice cubes, the
keys to the padlocks frozen inside them. Sharon tried to think of the future.
What would it hold? First thing to be done was to get some bigger tools. She
doubted if she'd be successful, but she had to give it a try. She thought of
getting a hacksaw, but the thought of sawing so close to her flesh immediately
made her drop the idea. What other tools did she know of? She was not an expert
but she'd grown up in a house full of brothers and she'd picked up the basics.
Hammer? Useless. Pliers? Tried that. Drill? Yeah right. Chisel? Ditto. File?
Hmm - maybe, but she doubted it. The suit was damn hard, her stunt with the
pliers had not even scratched the surface. Sharon realized that she'd been
stroking the inside of her thigh while she'd been debating. She immediately
folded her arms in front of her chest but the damage was done. She could feel
her nipples, throbbing harder than ever. The musky odor of her sex told her how
much damage had been done and again she shifted her body into another position.
In exasperation she flew up from the couch and stormed to the kitchen. She
decided that she was in the mood for something sweet and she bent down in front
of the fridge. She stood looking at her meager selection, trying to decide,
when she realized she was standing with her hand in the fold of her inner
thigh, her finger stroking the dome. She was now really getting pissed off and
she flung the freezer door closed and walked back to the couch. Only when she
reached the couch did she notice that she still had not removed her hand. She
fell on the couch and sighed in defeat. Her body was used to a lot of attention
and she should have expected the mutiny of her hands. After all, they've had
years of practice. She cupped her hand over the hard dome and squeezed.
Nothing. She pushed her hand deeper into her fork, sighing as her fingers
forced her thighs apart. Her pinkie and forefinger stroked the tender flesh
between her thighs and the dome. It was as close as she could come to the real
thing, but it was not enough, not nearly enough. Sharon re- alized she was
tormenting herself but she could do nothing to prevent it. Her body ached for
some attention and it wanted it NOW. She split the nightgown open and her hands
roamed all over her body. Wherever they roamed her hands met only hard, smooth,
sen- sual metal. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to take over. A part
of her brain was screaming at her to stop, to think about what she was doing
but she ignored it. In a desperate attempt to cause some friction in her pussy
she arched her back, hoping the suit would ride up and pull the dildo deeper
into her. When that failed she twisted and squirmed on the couch, trying
desperately to get some movement going. Her hands tried to squeeze her breasts,
failed, tried to stroke her sex, failed. She even attacked from be- hind,
rolling over and following the thin wire down, trying to force her fingers under
the dome. Nothing doing. Her fingers would have to be double jointed twice over
to be able to penetrate the steep angles. She rolled back over again and spread
her legs as wide as they would go. It felt as if she would split in half and
still it was not enough, her fingers could not penetrate the dome's rock hard
defenses. She grabbed the fork from her dinner plate and tried to force the
handle under the hard metal. Once again she rolled over and tried to force the
handle in from the rear. It slid in half an inch and was stopped by the stem of
the dildo. She twisted and turned, but it would go no further. Finally she
admitted defeat and lay back, panting in exhaustion. Her whole body was on fire
and she could feel her rib cage strain against the sides of the suit as she
breathed. Her nipples were burning, her sex was throbbing, her head was
spinning and her blood pumping. She placed her hands behind her head and locked
her fingers together. Determined to ignore the throb- bing she lay staring at
the TV, not daring to move a muscle. A quiet voice quickly shot her a "told you
so" and ducked before she could throw a plate at it.
Sharon climbed into bed and switched the light off. It felt so strange to get
into bed while wearing the suit! She'd removed the T-shirt and for a moment
she'd searched for the bra- strap before realizing what she was doing. She'd
stayed up late because of her long sleep in the afternoon. As she lay on her
side she stared at the clock and sighed. It was just past two but she wasn't
tired. She'd spent most of the evening lying quietly in front of the TV, too
scared to move. Every breath, every heartbeat reminded her of the suit. Moving
her arm to adjust the channel it would rub against the smooth surface of the
suit. Scratching her head would press her ribs against the tight fabric.
Adjusting the position of her legs would stir her belly. Rolling over when her
side went numb was sheer torture. She'd never felt so alive, so intensely aware
of her body. She'd realized that the human body was con- tinually sending
signals to the brain, whether it was listening or not. Under normal circum-
stances the sub-consciousness would filter and block these messages until just
the most important messages reached the conscious brain. The problem was that
the sexual urge seemed to remove this barrier. Her conscious brain was
bombarded by a continuous stream of information, everything from the pressure
of one foot on top of another, to the rushing of blood in her ears. Her whole
body was talking to her all the time, her sexual organs shouting the loudest of
all. Just because she'd gone to bed didn't mean it stopped. She could feel her
warm thighs touching each other, so she rolled onto her stomach. She felt the
domes of the suit press into her chest, so she rolled onto her back. She could
feel the hard strip molded over her spine, so she rolled onto her side again.
Another problem was that she often masturbated before drifting off to sleep.
She desperately wished she could do so now, but all she could do was sigh. She
rubbed her eyes and felt her arm brush against the suit. She tried to curl up
into the fetus position and the wire bit into her anus. She stretched out and
the dome bit deeper into her fork. She sighed in frustration and felt her rib
cage press against the suit. Even when she wasn't moving she couldn't escape.
Her sex and nipples gently throbbed, the volume growing and growing until she
thought she would go stark raving mad. She jumped out of bed and stormed into
the bath- room. She opened the cold water tap in the shower full blast and
stepped inside. Her breath was taken away as the cold water hit her and for a
precious few moments she for- got completely about the suit. It didn't last
long. Soon she realized that the suit was rapidly cooling down. Even with her
eyes closed she could feel every inch of the cool surface. She stood in the
shower for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Her body told her that the cold
shower had been a mistake. Who knew a freezing cold wire rubbing over your anus
could be so erotic? She quickly got out of the shower and dried herself off. As
she jumped back into bed she felt the last little droplets of trapped water
find their way out and seep into the linen. Her body began to do strange things
to her. Besides the fact that the cold wire had put her right back to square
one other things were now happening. The suit was taking much longer to heat up
than it did to cool down. She could feel every inch of suit clearly, except
over her nipples and sex. Her sexual organs felt like burning beacons of light,
stranded on islands in a deep ocean. How could it be that her sex and nipples
could be so hot, practically radiating heat, while the rest of her body was
cool? Suddenly she knew why none of the rubbing and scratching had worked - the
suit wasn't touching her there! She tried to imagine how the suit looked under
that smooth surface. Her breasts would be encased in two large domes, swelling
and thickening as it rose over her flesh. By the time it reached her nipples
the walls of the domes would be almost half an inch thick. Inside these domes
would be two small pockets, drilled to just below the surface. In it her
nipples would sit, alone and isolated. No matter how she scratched and squirmed,
her nipples would never feel any sensation. Her sex would sit in the same kind
of pocket, molded precisely so that it would allow a fractions of an inch
between her aching flesh and the inside surface of the dome. The thought was so
discouraging she started crying all over again.
