Story - The Suit, Chapter II - BDSM, Mf
THE SUIT

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 occasion 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. Although 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 attained 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 & shades. Although the dream had
faded it’s effects on her body had not, and she absentmindedly stroked
her sex. The hard smooth surface caused her memories to come flooding
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 urinating with a 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 inside 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, almost like polishing a ring on her finger. 
In a daze she walked back to the bedroom and lay down. This was just
to much to deal with. She lay on the bed, trying to prevent the
growing 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
ignore 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 kidding 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 to 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
everywhere. 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.
Twisting and screaming she tried to tear the suit off, but it would
not budge. She jerked the pliers 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. Finally 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 shoulder. The blood immediately
sobered her up and she realized how stupid she’d been. Running 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
nightgown 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 nipples and the trembling
in her sex proclaimed her a liar. She tried to fool herself into
believing 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 rational 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 stoked 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 realized 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, sensual 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
behind, 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 throbbing 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 of. 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 continually sending signals to the brain, whether it
was listening or not. Under normal circumstances the sub-conscious
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
bathroom. 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 forgot 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.

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