Cute Girls

Engulfed In Ecstasy

“Engulfed in Ecstasy continues the story of Michelle and Master Damien. It is a successor to the story Training Michelle, and is a companion to Elegance Ravished, Predators and Prey, Executive Submission, and Where the Wild Things Are. If you wish to know more about Michelle and how she came to be owned by Master Damien, you should start with Training Michelle (Chapter 1, naturally). In any case, enjoy.”

*Scene 1 – Arrival*

Michelle pulls her car into the hotel garage. She kills the ignition and sits listening to the ticking of the engine as it cools. She watches the raindrops slide down over the twin arcs of glass where the wipers had been methodically sweeping them away. The bright, fluorescent lights on the ceiling of the underground garage cast a harsh glare onto the hood of her car, though the interior remains shrouded in darkness.

Michelle”s fingers remain on the steering wheel, softly tracing the circumference of the wheel, feeling every nuance of the textured surface. She watches them, clad in soft, black leather, flex and unflex as they move along the wheel. The fingers of her left hand stroke the back of her right hand. It is as if she is watching someone else”s hands. Clad in the skin-tight leather they seem to float in mid-air, belonging to someone else.

The leather of the glove seems to heighten the sensitivity of her touch. Her fingers play with each other, caressing stroking, tightening and relaxing. Michelle touches her face, feeling the butter-soft doeskin sliding along her smooth flesh. The smell of the leather is like an aphrodisiac to her. So much of her life now is so intimately linked to leather - sweet, soft, fragrant leather.

Michelle is keyed up and excited and on edge. Her Master has summoned her to this hotel, to spend the weekend with him. Michelle has decided to do something spectacular for him this evening, making a dramatic and symbolic act of submission, for when he joins her later that evening. The prospect of what lies ahead has Michelle aroused already. She is feeling very naughty, very wicked, very much alive.

Michelle steps from the car and feels her short, tight leather skirt brush against her thighs. Standing next to the car while she presses the lock button on her key ring, she brings her ankles together, and imagines them bound tightly with white cord. She can feel the constrictions of the rope; feel the second set of ropes that would be tied around her knees. All of her senses are sparking with electrical fire. Her stomach had trembled when she had conceived the idea of what she was about to do. Her body was preparing itself; opening up its nerve pathways, ready to receive an incessant assault of sensations.

She can smell the oil and engine exhaust in the garage. A car roars to life at the other end of the nearly empty garage, the sound booming off the dirty gray concrete walls and ceiling. She clasps her hands tightly together behind her back.

Michelle breathes in and out in long, slow breaths. She can feel the moisture oozing out of her naked pussy, just barely hidden under the short leather skirt. Beneath her sheer silk blouse, her nipples tingle with anticipation. There is no bra interposed between those hard, sensitive points and the silk of the blouse. Each breath drags the smooth soft fabric over her nipples, making them throb with anticipation of what she is about to do.

Michelle opens her eyes, not realizing they were closed. She has to physically look to see that her feet were not bound before she could move. She quickly opens the trunk, lifts out her case, and heads for the elevator at the other end of the garage.

Michelle”s stiletto heels echo on the garage floor as she strides towards the elevator. The closer she gets to the burnished steel doors, the faster she walks. It is as if the long vertical shaft hidden behind those doors is pulling her in, devouring her, preparing to suck her upwards. She is about to disappear into her fantasy, to let it completely consume her.

When she reaches the elevator, Michelle hesitates for a moment, before pressing the button. Then her finger stabs the plastic oval, bringing it to life, its red glow indicating that her command has been acknowledged. A muted growl of mechanical beasts radiates from behind the faceless, expressionless steel doors. A minute later, the doors slide silently back, revealing the empty void of the featureless cell she is about to enter. Michelle steps in. The doors, unbidden, close behind her.

Michelle”s stomach jumps once again as the elevator lurches and begins to ascend to the main floor. When the doors open to reveal the main lobby of the hotel, bustling with people, Michelle is momentarily bewildered, as if she had been lost in a subterranean cave for days and has just stumbled back into the light. She regains her composure when an elderly couple steps around her to enter the garage elevator.

Michelle hurries out of the elevator as the couple enters. The man quickly and efficiently undresses her with his eyes. As she turns to walk over to the registration desk, she sees the man in the elevator watching her. His eyes are glued to her unfettered breasts, swaying softly behind their silken curtain; to her smooth, round leather-covered ass, and to the smooth tan, uncovered flesh of her taut, muscled thighs. His gaze remains locked on Michelle, his head moving like a tank turret to stay aimed at her body while she walks, until the elevator doors finally close in front of him, to send him and his companion down to the dark gray cavern from which Michelle has just emerged.

At the reception desk, Michelle registers using the credit card given to her by her Master. She gets the key to her suite with a minimum of fuss. The young man who behind the desk is totally enslaved by the sultry, exotic vixen standing in front of him, exuding such a warm, sensuous glow. Michelle is a bitch in heat, and the young man knows it.

While the man is getting her keycard, Michelle teases him further by unbuttoning several more buttons on her blouse. When she signs the registration card, Michelle leans as far forward over the desk as she can, to let her blouse gape open. The young man seated behind the desk has a clear view of Michelle”s luscious breasts, hanging down like succulent, ripe fruit right in front of his eyes; fruit that is just begging to be picked and tasted, but that hangs just barely beyond his grasp.

Michelle looks up at the man as she finishes signing her name. Thomas Carlson, his nametag announces.

“Thank you so very much for your kind attention, Sir,” she says to him, as she stares at him through heavily lidded eyes. As a final gesture, she licks one of her fingers, and then presses it to the man”s cheek. “I trust that the rest of the services you offer your guests are just as thoughtful and attentive to their needs. Who knows, Mr. Carlson, maybe you will have the opportunity to attend to my needs again, during my stay.”

Before the young Mr. Carlson can find the words to reply, Michelle turns to walk towards the elevator. She does not turn around, and does not see the young man stand, and then sit down again quickly to conceal the prominent bulge in his pants. The bellhop follows in her wake, his eyes riveted on her ass like they were connected to it by a long string. His dagger is pointing stiffly at the target of his affections as well.

Once they are in the elevator, Michelle again stands with her ankles and knees close together, returning to her mental bondage. She closes her eyes, and holds her hands tightly together behind her back. She stands ramrod straight, her breasts thrust out directly at the bellhop in front of her. She knows that he is staring at her. She can see his hands in her mind”s eye; hesitating, moving, fingers clenching and unclenching as he fights the urge to lift them up, open her blouse and cup her tits in his large, powerful black hands.

The thought of the bellman taking her right there, in the elevator, nearly causes Michelle to open her eyes and give the man the signal that would result in her being stripped naked and fucked as soon as they stepped over the threshold of her suite. She fights the urge, clamping down on it with all of her will, to prevent herself from initiating the unstoppable sequence of events that would rush towards its inevitable conclusion, once the hair-trigger release on the erotic tension between them has been pulled.

Michelle is shaking with relief when the elevator doors open onto the hushed silence of the empty corridor that extends out in front of her from the portal from which she and bellman step. Neither says a word, as Michelle starts the short walk to her suite at the end of the corridor. With only four suites per floor, the feeling of the hotel is very personal, and intimate. The bellman follows, silently behind her.

Once the bellhop has placed her bag on the luggage table in the suite”s bedroom and departed with his tip in his pocked and a smear of Michelle”s lipstick on his cheek, Michelle begins her preparations.

First, her blouse and skirt are hung in the closet, with her shoes neatly standing beneath them. Michelle luxuriates in her nakedness, standing in front of the window, surveying the lovely evening scene beneath her. Lights are winkling on as the sky turns a dark indigo, the remaining sunlight quickly fading behind a rapidly approaching line of fresh thunderstorms in the west. Lightning flashes in the distance, followed by the muted booms of faraway thunder.

Michelle draws her bath, and slips beneath the surface of the scented water. The warm water dances against her flesh. The swirling bubbles of the whirlpool glide over her aching nipples. She tries to not play with herself, but absently finds her fingers rubbing up against her labia, pushing against her clitoris, sending sparks into her belly. Her arms brush up against her breasts, grazing against her proud and succulent nipples, just begging to be twisted and pinched. Michelle stops her hands before they go any further. She must not disobey her Master”s commandments, and just as important, she must keep her lust contained and her sexual energy fully charged, at its peak, until her Master closes the switch later and lets her accumulated store of passion burst out in a raw surge of ungrounded, primal sexual energy.

Michelle steps out of the bathtub and dries off quickly. The nubby texture of the cotton towel makes her skin come alive with desire. She stops to look at herself in the steamy mirror in the bathroom. The woman who looks back at her is a stunningly beautiful woman, her eyes bright with passion, and her body glowing with anticipation. Michelle forms a triangular outline shape with her thumbs and forefingers, and presses the downward pointing open triangle against her naked, clean-shaven pussy.

“Please, Master, fuck me well, tonight,” she says, out loud, to herself.

Then, she returns to the bedroom to open her case and lay the items she has brought with her out on the bed. Each item is carefully removed from the case and laid on the bed, but not before Michelle lifts it to her face, to inhale its scent, and to rub it against her skin. Michelle makes this worshipful gesture to each item. Each touch and scent brings a flashback memory of each and every time she has experienced the use of the thing, all the way back to when she had first purchased it, or when it was given to her by her Master.

When she has removed everything from the case, and has it all arrayed neatly on the bed, Michelle stares at the assembled objects. “How strange they look,” she thinks to herself, as she folds her arms underneath her breasts. She turns again to look out the window at the gathering storm outside, before returning to face the bed, and to prepare for what she was about to do.

The storm tonight will be spectacular. This high aerie will be the perfect location to drink in all of the savage power that is already beginning to swirl around outside the thin sheet of glass. A loud, far-off boom of thunder rolls across the sky, shaking the walls of the room and making the window glass vibrate.

Michelle steps to the bed, and picks up the first object. Her hands are shaking, and she is unable to control them.

It is time, she is ready, and there will be no turning back once she starts. Then, she begins.

*Scene 2 – Transformation*

Michelle sits in front of the mirror at the boudoir table in the bedroom. She quickly pins her hair back. Then, she stands up and returns to the bed and picks up the bottle of baby powder. Filling the palms of her hands with the fluffy white powder, she coats her entire body with it, every inch, every pore, and in every soft fold of skin; transforming herself into a pale, ghost-like image. After she has smoothed on the powder and touched up the few spots she had missed during the initial application, she turns her attention back to the articles on the bed.

She inventories the items she has laid out on the bed. Yes, they are all there, in order. It is time now; there is no turning back.

Michelle starts to dress. First, she picks up her panties. They are made of black latex, with an array of soft, flexible black nubs that fitted between her legs to press against her clitoris and her cunt. These tight latex panties have been custom-made for Michelle. Centered on the inside of the seat in the rear is a molded latex cock, that is a seamless part of the panties. Michelle lubricates her asshole with a lavender-scented jelly; using two fingers to fully coat the inside of her ass as far as she can reach with the slippery, warm lubricant. Then she steps into the panties and works them up her legs. She positions the head of the cock against her puckered rear entrance, and eases the dildo inside her as she snugs the panties up to her hips.

The combination of the pliable rubber nubs on her clit and the wonderfully satisfying fullness in her ass makes Michelle sigh deeply with contentment. At this stage in her training, she finds that she is most happy when she has a big fat dildo in her cunt or her ass, keeping her constantly on the juicy perimeter of arousal – except, of course, when she is being vigorously and soundly fucked by a real cock. Even being whipped is so much more intense, so much more satisfying with something big and hard inside her.

“God, I am such a slut,” Michelle says out loud.

Once she has the panties pulled up as tight as she can, and she has smoothed the tight, thin latex so that there is not even a hint of a fold or crease to mar the surface; Michelle reaches between her legs to find the cleverly hidden slit in the panties. “Good,” she smiles to herself, “Right over my cunt.” She slides a finger inside the slit and into her dripping wet pussy – just to make sure. When she retrieves her finger, she pops it into her mouth, to lick it clean.

Next, Michelle picks up the spray bottle of rubber polish. She spritzes some onto a cloth, and she rubs it all over her panties, bringing them to a lustrous shine, wiping any trace of the baby powder from them.

Michelle”s blood is beginning to stir, as she picks up the next item on the bed. She caresses the blood red latex body-suit, that had been custom-fitted to her body so it clung to her like a tight, seamless, second skin. It is complete, with feet, gloves that were seamlessly attached to the arms, and a hood that pulls up over her head, leaving just her face exposed. Michelle traces her fingertips along the concealed zipper that was completely hidden when she was wearing the suit; that ran from the top of the ass on the suit, between her legs, and up to the high neck in front. The zipper had two pulls on it, so Master Damien could open it to access her cunt and ass without removing the suit.

Michelle rolls up the legs, and begins to ease the tight red rubber over her feet and ankles. She moves slowly and carefully. It is easy to tear the thin, delicate rubber with a careless pull or slash of her fingernails. She must also ensure that no air pockets are left by her feet and ankles.

The latex fits her literally like a second skin. Any air that is trapped will balloon out and completely mar the effect of the suit. It takes Michelle 10 minutes to bring the suit up to her hips. The latex feels incredibly cool and smooth as it is pulled over her skin, the powder acting as a dry lubricant to help to rubber slide over her eager flesh. Soon, though, the latex is as hot as she is on the inside, though it remains cool and slippery smooth on the outside. Already, she can feel the sweat building on her legs, and beginning to pool in the catsuit”s feet.

Next, it is time for her hands and arms to disappear. Each glove and arm takes another 10 minutes of careful pulling and smoothing. When she has the catsuit completely fitted, Michelle picks up a small, delicate pair of individual nipple clips. She reaches inside the open zipper of the suit to pluck each nipple, stretch it to its most delicious limit, and affix a clip to the tender, pink point. Michelle tightens the clips as far as she can, causing waves of wonderful, delicious pain to shoot from her nipples to radiate throughout her body.

Michelle is beginning to sweat, from the combination of the catsuit encasing her body and her increasing arousal. She can feel the perspiration running down the inside of the suit. It feels spectacular.

Finally it is time to raise the zipper. Michelle stands in front of the mirror to watch her flesh disappear, to be replaced by the shiny, smooth, red latex – an incredibly thin and delicate, but immensely powerful sheathing for her body. With the zipper at her neck, she pauses to pirouette in front of the mirror. Her cunt is already on fire, from the visual effect of watching her transform herself, and from the constant motion of the rubber nubs on her clit, the plug in her ass, and the tight clips pinching her nipples beneath the taut rubber of her suit.

Michelle shines her new skin with the latex polish to bring it to a brilliant, blood red luster. Michelle feels more naked and exposed now, enveloped beneath the opaque, red latex skin of the catsuit; than if she had been nude.

Next, Michelle picks up her corset. It is a jet-black, lambskin leather corset, also custom-made for her, with a strict, metal-boned skeleton woven into it, to mold her body into a beautifully wasp-waisted form that made the swell of her ass beneath the tightly constricted waist irresistibly attractive to her Master”s hand – and whip.

She wraps her torso in it, and begins to fasten the hooks in the front. She has to struggle to inhale and tighten her muscles enough to snap the closures shut. The corset”s molded cups squeeze and press on her breasts as she latches herself into it. The effect on her nipple clips is incredible. Her entire body is on fire now. When she is done, her arm muscles ache and the sweat is pouring off her body inside the suit.

Michelle”s boots are next to the corset. Incredibly high spike heeled boots, that lace all the way up to just below her knees. Michelle sits on the chair and slides the boots over her feet. Her feet are pointed like a ballet dancer”s en point in the severely sculpted boots. Lacing them up her legs is extremely difficult with the corset severely restricting her movements and torturing her nipples with every movement. She had thought about putting the boots on first, but had discarded that idea. The boots have such incredibly tall heels that she can barely stand in them. Attempting to stand in them without holding on to something for the length of time it would take to don the corset would be absolutely impossible.

Michelle is almost finished with her outfit. Teetering into the bathroom to survey the sexual avatar she has become, Michelle tests the tightness of her corset. “Not quite good enough,” she says out loud to herself. Being able to fit a single finger under the bottom or top edge of the tightly fit lambskin cocoon is the measure of her failure. Michelle ponders her predicament for a moment, before deciding on her solution.

She walks, unsteadily to the desk in the living room of the suite, and picks up the telephone. She is breathing heavily, more from arousal than the effort of walking and standing in her outfit, when she speaks to the person who answers,

“This is room 2701. I need some assistance, some personal assistance. Would you please send up Mr. Carlson, the young man who checked me in a while ago, Yes, him, specifically. Oh, and have him bring me a bottle of champagne, and two glasses. The brand? Taittinger, if you have it – the vintage reserve, please. No, nothing else. Thank you.”

A few minutes later, there is a soft knock at the door. Michelle remains seated on the couch in the living room, her arms held behind her back. She calls out, “Please, come in, Mr. Carlson.”

A minute later, a stunned and speechless Thomas Carlson is standing in front of the most stunningly sexy, most incredibly attired woman he has ever seen. Michelle motions with her eyes, “Put the champagne over there, on the table, please, Mr. Carlson. No, do not open the bottle or pour it. That is for later, for my Master. When he arrives.”

Michelle stands up. She walks unsteadily towards Thomas Carlson, coming within inches of his stiff, protruding cock. She looks up into his face. “I take it you have never seen a woman dressed like this have you, Mr. Carlson? Do you like it? I hope my Maser will like it. If he does, and if I am lucky, he will spank me, and whip me, tonight. Did you know that the slap of the strap or the paddle across one”s ass feels entirely different when it is sheathed in latex, compared to how it feels on your naked flesh?” His wordless response tells her that he has absolutely no reference points for what she is telling him.

“And if I am very good, he will fuck me tonight.”

Michelle turns around and bends over, holding onto the chair in front of her.

“Do you see, the zipper can be opened from the rear? Under this wonderful red second skin, I am wearing tight latex panties that have a big, fat dildo molded right into them. It is deep inside my ass right now, Mr. Carlson. It feels sooo good.”

Michelle is wiggling her hips and rubbing her ass and her cunt as she continues to tease the young man.

“Mmmmm, and there are some incredibly naughty rubber bumps on my panties, right over my clit, Mr. Carlson. I am just dripping wet, inside. By the time the night is over, my cunt juices will be filling the feet of my catsuit. What a wonderfully wicked thought, Mr. Carlson, being bathed in my own sweat and my own cunt juices. I like that, I like that a lot.”

Thomas Carlson reaches out to touch Michelle”s ass. She bats his hand away.

“No, Mr. Carlson, I do not belong to you, Sir. This slut”s body, this slave”s cunt, belongs to Master Damien. I can only give myself to you with his permission – and, alas, I am sorry to say that I do not have his permission.”

Michelle pauses, and gives the man a pouty, little girl look. “But, you can help me, Sir. I do need your assistance. Do you see my corset? It is insufficiently tight around my body. See how I can insert a finger under the edge? That will never do, Mr. Carlson. I shall be severely punished for such a transgression. Can you help me? Can you lace me in, tighter – so tight that I can barely breathe? I need it to be that tight.”

Michelle stands up straight, and raises her arms straight above her head. This simple act makes her nipples cry out again, unleashing a fresh paroxysm of agonizingly beautiful sensations. She feels Thomas Carlson”s hands untying the laces. She inhales sharply, as he begins to pull the laces tighter, and tighter.

“More, please, Sir,” Michelle gasps, as she feels the corset shrink more and more, like a boa constrictor squeezing the life out of one of its victims. “More, Sir, please, more,” Michelle pants.

By now, each millimeter is a hard-fought battle. Finally, he ties the laces, pronouncing them as absolutely as tight as he can possibly make them.

Michelle is nearly faint from the exertion, and the effect of her body”s tortuous confinement.

“Thank you, kind Sir, I am most appreciative of your kind attention. I will write a very nice letter to the manager about you.”

Noting his alarm, Michelle smiles and tells him, “No, Mr. Carlson, I won”t mention exactly how you helped me, only that you of great personal assistance. Perhaps, I will find need of your services again, during my stay. May I call on you personally, Mr. Carlson?”

When he replied in the affirmative, Michelle stands close to him and kisses him wetly on the mouth. At the same time, she strokes his cock through his pants.

“Thank you again, Mr. Carlson, maybe I can repay you, in kind. Now, please leave me to complete my preparations. Good evening, Sir.”

When the dazed, but smiling Mr. Carlson has departed, Michelle returns to the bedroom to fulfill the rest of her fantasy.

*Scene 3 – Readiness and Anticipation*

Michelle arranges, and assembles, the rest of her equipment on the bed, and memorizes its position. Everything must be perfectly in place.

She places her whip, her long leather strap, and her flogger on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, where her Master will see them as soon as he enters the room. Next to them, she places a tall glass vase filled with long-stemmed red roses and brilliant blue irises. These will signal her hope and desire to be whipped tonight. She hopes that Master Damien will indulge her flesh with all of them. It has been days since he has marked her skin with the fury of his passion.

Michelle”s skin is hungry for the bite of the lash, and the pulsating, throbbing sting that is left between the strokes – slow, measured, and deliberate strokes that leave her eagerly waiting in a state of agonizing anticipation for the next sweet taste of the whip – or a fast, furious and unrelenting blur of motion that seemingly turns her skin inside out with the amazing waves of ecstasy that her Master”s skilled arm can draw out of Michelle”s supple, pliable and willing flesh.

She hopes that the tangible, physical evidence of her body”s worshipful submission to the whip will not soon fade. Seeing the raised red welts and stripes cris-crossing her body during her bath and shaving ritual the next morning always makes Michelle hot and wet, and allows her to replay the vivid scene again, over and over, in her mind throughout the following day.

Going to work with a bruised, tender, and still-red ass hiding beneath her short tight skirt and not wearing any panties is always a spectacular experience. Showing off her marks to Erica in the restroom always makes Michelle feel so proud, and so special. When Erica has fresh marks on her skin to show Michelle, while Michelle”s ass is smooth and unmarked, it never fails to make Michelle envious and jealous. Even the act of walking in her tall heels, and feeling her tender ass flesh chafe under her short, tight skirt always makes Michelle dripping wet.

“God, I hope he whips me well, tonight,” Michelle silently tells herself.

It is now time for the full head and face mask, made of black latex that completely covered her entire face, with only small holes for her nostrils and her mouth. Michelle takes one more look around the room, and at herself in the mirror. Everything is in order, and ready. The keys are on the table, in the other room, as far away as if they were on the moon. It is time to commit.

Then Michelle pulls the mask over her head. The world disappears. As she smoothes the face of the mask over her cheeks, a loud peal of thunder claps outside the hotel. Angry torrents of rain lash against the window. The storm has arrived.

Michelle”s outfit is nearly complete now. She lifts up the catsuit”s red hood and lifts it up over her black mask. Now, she feels on the bed for her gag. It is a short, fat black rubber cock, attached to a latex rubber harness that buckles firmly around her red and black-sheathed head. It permits her to breath around it, but it is very effective at muffling her cries completely.

Michelle opens her mouth wide, and accepts the big, hard prick into the soft, wet recesses of her mouth. Her excitement is at a fever pitch now. Michelle is completely shrouded and encased. Not a single millimeter of her is visible. She has transformed herself into a macabre red and black apparition.

Michelle is now ready to complete the gift she has so painstakingly created for her Master”s pleasure. She crawls onto the bed, and positions herself at its center. Her panties, corset, and nipple clips make this simple movement a wickedly delicious act, all by itself.

Michelle reaches behind her and finds the steel spreader bar by her feet. She locks each booted ankle into the smooth steel cuff at the each end of the bar. Her legs are spread wide apart now, her ass and cunt completely vulnerable. Now, a second spreader bar, this one with larger diameter steel cuffs on it goes around her thighs, just above her knees, making it impossible for her to shield her cunt in the slightest from anything that might be inflicted upon her.

Now it is time to forfeit another of her senses. Michelle places a pair of headphones on her head. She places the CD player on the bed in front of her and turns it on. The soft, sensual voice of Vanessa Daou fills her head, transforming the explicit sexual poetry of Erica Jong into vivid sound pictures of lust, anticipation, arousal, and orgasms. The sound of the fierce thunderstorm outside her window is replaced by the hot, wet sounds of “Zipless.”

Michelle squeezes her tits one more time, pressing her clips into the flesh of her breasts. Then, she reaches beneath her belly to find the steel bar beneath her belly that is attached to her knee spreaders at right angles, and extending up towards the headboard of the bed. At the other end of the bar is a short vertical post, standing upright from yet another spreader bar. Michelle bends down and finds the steel collar that is welded to the top of the post. She lays her neck in the open half-moon of the collar, much as if she were laying her head on the chopping block of the guillotine. Michelle lifts up the other steel semi-circle and snaps it shut around her neck. There is absolutely no turning back now.

Michelle moves quickly now, wanting to bring her bondage to conclusion as soon as she can. Her left wrist goes into the steel cuff at the end of the spreader bar that holds her head in position a few inches above it”s center. By pressing down on the bar, Michelle snaps the lock shut. Then, without an instant”s hesitation, her right wrist is in its matching cuff. Then, it, too, is locked by the weight of her body pressing down on the bar.

There, it is done.

Michelle has completely imprisoned herself, wrapping herself in the lewd, shrouded nakedness of the catsuit, her body on fire from the constant stimulation coming from her breasts, her cunt, and her ass. She will not move from this position until her Master frees her. Her arms and legs are spread wide, stretched to their limits. The only movement permitted to her is to move her body and her ass up and down. This is sufficient, though, to permit her ribbed panties and ass plug, and her nipple clips and corset to continue to work their magic.

Already, Michelle”s muscles are aching. She can feel her sweat and cunt juices streaming out of every pore of her body, mixing in an intoxicating sexual stew, and coating every inch of her body inside the catsuit, from her head to her toes. Her heart is pounding like a jackhammer in her chest.

Vivid, fantastic pictures of what she imagines she looks like, and what she hopes her Master will do with her when he arrives, flash through her mind. Slowly, Michelle”s sense of anticipation settles down, as she waits. She knows that she must pace herself, and not expect instant gratification. The whole idea of this exercise is to wait, to anticipate, to wait some more, and to endure and conquer the test she has set for herself.

Time begins to dissolve and fall away for Michelle. Her mind drifts and wanders, led along a labyrinth of dark, mysterious passageways by the ethereal sound of Vanessa Daou”s voice. Only the short silences between the songs mark the passage of time. Eventually, even this is no longer sufficient, for Michelle to gauge how long she has been immobilized. She is certain that she has heard this song before – was it tonight, as the CD begins to repeat the tracks one after the other – or was it prior to tonight, on a previous occasion when she had been bound, blindfolded and given the headphones to wear, to shut out the petty distractions of the outside world?

All Michelle knows is that she has been here for what seems like an eternity, waiting for her Master. She can feel each molecule of sweat and cunt juice make its way slowly down the inside of her hot, red skin. She is swimming in herself.

The plug in her ass moves in and out a few millimeters each time she flexes her muscles and moves her ass up and down. She can feel the sweat dripping down the crack of her ass to keep her stretched and distended rectum wet and juicy. The penis gag in her mouth fills her mouth completely. Her saliva is dribbling out the corners of her mouth and down her face inside the black latex mask, to join the slow, downward river of sweat between her breasts. Her nipples are throbbing, each breath pressing her breasts against the thin film of latex between her hot, flushed skin and the cruel, steel and leather prison of her corset.

Michelle opens her eyes, and feels her lashes flutter against the latex that is stretched taut across her eyes. This is the only way she can tell that her eyelids are raised. Everything remains a stygian, inky black.

Michelle waits, and she waits some more. How long has it been? Has her Master decided not to come? Has he abandoned her tonight? Will she be forced to stay like this, helpless and confined, her muscles shrieking with stiffness and trembling with exhaustion, bathed in her own juices, for the entire night? Will the maid find her like this in the morning?

A wave of panic rushes through Michelle”s mind. She fights the fear, and concentrates on her body, inventorying each sensation; each beat of her heart; each breath of hot, rubber-scented air she draws in; each pulse of pain from her tightly pinched nipples as her chest moves in and out against the unrelenting constriction of the corset; each minute movement of the rubber nubs on her panties across her hot, engorged clit; each spasm of her cunt and ass muscles massaging the plug in her ass; even each tiny movement of her toes in the narrow pointed tips of her boots.

“Please, Master, come now. Please, I need you now, Master. Please whip me, Master; please let me have your great, beautiful cock. Let me serve you as your fuck-hole tonight. Let me be your bondage slave.” Tears are forming in Michelle”s sightless eyes.

And still she waits.

*Scene 4 – Release and Redemption*

Michelle has lost all track of time. She is drifting in and out of alertness, completely cut off from all contact with the outside world, awash in the sensations and textures of her body. Michelle is floating, adrift in a featureless void of amorphous, seemingly aimless arousal and unfulfilled passion. She is awash in her own sweat inside her smooth, red second skin. Every nerve ending is shouting out its presence, a cacophony of erotic noise.

The sum of Michelle”s body parts is a leaderless, directionless orchestra of unruly, disorganized musicians; waiting for her conductor, her maestro, waiting for his arrival. Waiting for his baton to be raised over her, hovering there to capture her body”s attention, to signal that the symphony is about to begin. Waiting for that first, decisive downward slash of the baton to bring the orchestra to life, ready to respond to the baton”s commands, ready to burst forth with a powerful surge of music; loud, beautiful, ecstatic music.

Sparks and fireworks suddenly explode in Michelle”s head, her unseeing eyes dazzled by the bright, white stars that appear, like magic. Her body is propelled forward, to strain against her wrist, knee, and ankle cuffs, the heavy steel collar around her neck biting into her shoulder muscles. The sound of the leather strap slapping across her smooth latex-covered ass sounds like a thunderclap. The plug in her ass slams deeper into her belly, vibrating like a tuning fork as it telegraphs the sharp blow deep into the inner recesses of Michelle”s body.

Then, silence. Only the sound of Vanessa”s voice in her head remains. Michelle is quivering, her body suddenly as tight as a bowstring, as she awaits the next powerful stroke of the broad leather strap that had awakened her from her hazy, drifting captivity. She can feel every pore and nerve ending on her body come alive, eager to respond again, to draw strength from the leather. She waits, and waits.

Michelle”s world goes suddenly silent, as her headphones are removed. The sound of her own body is deafening, by itself. She strains to hear her Master”s movements, but she cannot. How long has her Master been here? Watching her? Studying her?

Then, again! “Thank you, Master,” Michelle screams into her penis gag. The leather strap lands, hard, on her upturned, vulnerable ass. The latex makes the pain feel so much sweeter, broadening its impact far beyond the small area where the kiss of the leather actually touched her flesh. Michelle feels as if it is painting her entire ass, from her hips to her thighs with the hot, wet vivid colors of desire, of submission, of pure, unadulterated passion.

Again! And again! And again! This whipping is being administered in a long, carefully drawn out ritual of dominance and submission. The interval between each powerful stroke is long enough to let the initial surge of pain subside, if only slightly; leaving Michelle a quivering, wet mess of wildly firing nerve endings.

Each blow propels her to a new height of arousal as she strains against her steel collar and cuffs. She will have bruises on her wrists and at the base of her neck, tomorrow, to complement the tender, red welts she will have on her ass and thighs.

Michelle is moaning into her gag now. Tears of pain and joy are streaming down her face, unseen by her Master. The leather strap has been replaced by the flogger. Its long leather tendrils wrap around her hips with each stroke, enveloping her in its harsh, loving embrace. Michelle is boiling hot now, her entire body is on fire, burning with an unquenchable flame, an inferno that can be quenched in only one way – by the sweet, beautiful release of orgasm.

The whipping continues, its tempo accelerating and decelerating, the strokes coming in rapid succession, and then in teasingly long, irregular intervals. The flogger is dancing across Michelle”s ass and thighs.

Now it is landing vertically, sweeping between her legs to lash at her cunt. The combination of the flogger”s stinging bite, the reverberating vibrations that the ass plug is radiating through her belly, and the teasing massage being delivered to her clit by the soft rubber nubs in her panties has Michelle on the brink of orgasm.

Then, silence. The whirring sound of the flogger”s air dance is stilled. Michelle is gasping, right on the edge of orgasm. She is being denied her release. Michelle waits, and waits, and waits. What is her Master doing? Why has he stopped? Every fiber and sinew in her body is crying out for the sweet bliss of orgasmic deliverance. Surely, he will not deny her, now, after waiting for so long?

Michelle hears the soft pop of the champagne cork being removed from the bottle. She suddenly realizes how thirsty she is. The sweat is pouring out of her body, into her catsuit. Michelle continues to wait. Time passes agonizingly slowly. Each beat of her heart seems to take an eternity.

Yes! Yes! The zipper is being drawn down Michelle”s ass. The sudden exposure of a sliver of hot, slick, wet skin on Michelle”s ass feels like a cold, icy blast. Now, the hidden slit in her stimulation panties is exposed. Michelle feels fingers pulling the slit open. She almost comes at his touch, and at the cool kiss of air on her shaven cunt flesh.

Now, a long, hard cock is ramming into her pussy, filling her quickly, roughly, completely. Again, Michelle screams a silent, muffled scream. The cock begins to fuck Michelle with a fast, relentless fury.

In. Out. In. Out. Michelle can hear the wetness of her cunt, her juices gushing out of her fuck hole. What a glorious fuck! In a few minutes, the cock twitches and begins to shoot its hot, white come deep into Michelle”s pussy. Michelle”s pussy spasms and clutches at the cock that is screwing her so passionately.

Then, the cock is gone. Michelle can feel the semen oozing out of her cunt, dripping down her ass and thighs inside the catsuit, to mix and mingle with the fragrant potpourri of juices that is slowing filling the inside of the suit. Still, not a word from her Master. Only silence.

Oh, my god! Another cock! A different one!

Michelle”s pussy takes the new man”s penis inside her with a wet, sloppy ease. Again, the cock begins to fuck her hard, and rough. This man reaches around her body to cup and squeeze her tits through the corset. Michelle”s nipples send intense, rippling waves of pain throughout her body. This cock is ramming all the way against her cervix with each thrust, pulling out until only the big, hard head is left inside her; and then ramming home again. Yes, home. Michelle”s cunt is their home, the place where they belong. These cocks own Michelle”s pussy. They own her orgasms. They own her, period.

Soon, this cock erupts in a powerful orgasm. The come pours into Michelle”s cunt, filling her to overflowing. Michelle is lifting her ass up as high as she can, in her restraints, eagerly asking for more, in the only language her gift-wrapped and bound body can speak. Michelle has never wanted to be fucked so much in her life. She cannot get enough of these cocks.

When this, second, cock leaves its home inside Michelle, a third penis immediately replaces it. Michelle is delirious with lust. Michelle greets this man with a hard, sustained contraction that holds him in a passionate, vice-like grip. This man places his hand on Michelle”s ass, centered on the molded rubber plug in her ass. His fingers begin to plunge the plug deeper into her asshole, in a syncopated rhythm with the movement of his cock. Michelle does not know if she can take any more of this incredible, gang-fuck without coming. It does not take long for this man to come. Like the ones before him, he pumps his semen deep into the depths of Michelle”s body. Each stroke of the cock acts like a pump, drawing the mingled jism of the three men out of Michelle”s gaping wide-open pussy to stream down her legs inside the latex suit. Then, this third cock disappears.

Incredibly, a fourth penis quickly replaces the one that has just orgasmed inside her. This man teases her with his cock, moving it very slowly in and out, just letting the penis tip inside Michelle”s cunt. His hand reaches around her hips to press and massage the nubs on her panties into her slit, and across her clitoris. At the same time, his other hand is sliding the base of the ass plug back and forth, starting a rocking motion that stretches her asshole. It feels like she is being ridden by two cocks, both attached to the same man.

Then cock number four begins to pound in and out of Michelle. Great long, slashing, plunging thrusts. Michelle”s cunt muscles grab at the cock, in a vain, valiant attempt to hold it, to keep it buried deep within her. This only drives the man into a wilder frenzy. He slaps her ass with his open palms, first one cheek and then the other. Now he is holding her penis gag”s strap on the back of her head. Michelle”s head is pulled back, straining against the unbreakable steel collar.

More hands begin to rove across her body, trespassing with impunity, flaunting their dominion over her. Hands kneading, pulling and slapping at her breasts. Hands fingering her clit through the multiple layers of latex covering her mound. Hands slapping her ass. Hands pulling her legs even farther apart. Hands squeezing her thighs. Hands, hands, everywhere. Michelle is, literally, a dripping wet mess. She cannot get enough of the cock and the hands that are driving her into an absolute frenzy.

The only sound she hears is the sound of her own body, her muscles shrieking with exhaustion, her cunt jerking and spasming uncontrollably, her jaws aching from the gag that is thrust deep into her mouth, and the deafening sound of her loud, ragged breathing and the jackhammer beat of her heart.

Suddenly, a voice pierces the cacophony of noise that is inside Michelle”s head. “Michelle, you will come when this cock spews its gift inside your submissive-slut pussy. Are you ready, Michelle?”

Michelle wiggles her ass in reply. This is the only movement that the hands that are welded to her body permit.

The hands that are playing with her thighs disappear. A moment later, Michelle feels the harsh sting of a flogger slashing at her thighs, across her back, curling around her arms. The cock in her cunt is grinding against her pussy, drilling deeper and deeper into cesspool of come that her body has become.

The hands are making her nipples scream with pain. Michelle tries to draw deep breaths, but the tight constriction of her corset prevents her from getting nearly enough air. She trembles and withers under the sensuous assault.

Finally, the cock that is pile-driving in and out of her exhausted, come-filled pussy adds its hot come to the sloshing, white river that is pouring out of Michelle.

Michelle comes herself, instantly. Her orgasm builds quickly to its peak. Her entire body shakes and shudders with the joy of release, of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. It has taken hours and hours for her to reach this point, but it has all been worth it. She comes, again and again, in one long continuous tidal wave of great crashing exhilaration. The cock and the hands urge her body on, to greater and greater heights of ecstasy. Michelle feels as if she is being turned inside out, like her entire body is one great, spasming cunt. She is vibrating like a tuning fork that is being struck again, and again, and again; crying out one long, pure, piercing orgasmic tone.

An instant later, the cock and the hands are gone. For a moment, Michelle cannot believe that they are no longer there. Her orgasm continues, powered by sheer momentum, before it slackens and dissipates.

Michelle slumps against her restraints. She is spent, used up, wilted, melted, consumed. There is nothing left, except the tight rubber cocoon that contains all of the evidence of what has just transpired. It is all still there, nothing has been flushed away; nothing has evaporated into the passion-drenched air that hangs heavy and close in the hotel room.

She can feel the come and sweat trickling down her body; she can feel her hair matted and damp under her mask and hood. She can feel everything, every sinew and pore of her body radiating its exhaustion, every atom of her being vibrating in a perfect harmony. She is spent, she is done. The mental chains that bind her to her Master have been forged into an even stronger steel by this ordeal, the heat of the furnace strengthening and annealing them into an incredibly strong alloy, one that will never be cracked or broken.

Then, Michelle hears the door to the suite close, leaving only silence behind.

Again, Michelle loses track of time completely. How long has it been, now? Minutes? Hours? A day? She has no idea. Michelle is adrift on a broad ocean current, buoyed by the soft gentle waves of her breathing. There is nothing else.

After what seems like an eternity, her body is roused from an exhausted daze by the touch of hands, hands that are unlocking her cuffs and collar. When she is released, she rolls off the bondage frame, and lays on her back, inert, unable to move even her fingers. The hands remove her penis gag. A straw is thrust between her lips. Michelle sucks the water down greedily, like a person who has been marooned in the desert for days. Glass after glass of water; sweet, cool water.

Michelle lies there, as the hands unlace her boots and pull them off her feet. Next, comes the corset. Michelle is helped to her feet and then the hood is peeled back and the black face mask is lifted off her sweat-streaked head. Small drops of sweat rain down onto the red latex suit.

Michelle opens her eyes slowly, hesitantly. When she finally opens them wide and focuses them, she sees Loretta standing there, wearing an elegant evening gown. Loretta smiles at Michelle, and proceeds to help her out of her suit. When she has been stripped naked, Loretta guides the weak, light-headed Michelle into the bathroom, and eases her into the warm, rejuvenating water. Then she departs. She has not said a word to Michelle.

Michelle is left there, to soak in the tub, to attend to her aching muscles, her bruises, and her well-used cunt, alone; wondering whether her Master has approved of her offering, her staging of this event. Dead-tired, she crawls out of the bathtub after an hour, and staggers to the bed, where she collapses, nude, upon the bed. Her sore, wet body soaks the bed sheets, but by the time Michelle”s dripping wet hair touches the pillow, she is fast asleep.

And that is how the maid finds her the next morning, as she enters the suite, stepping over the bondage equipment and the latex and leather fetish clothes that are strewn around the room and draped over the chairs.

Tags: Fetish, Story