Tina

Katie woke up from a very long sleep, and immediately knew that something was wrong. She was in a large room, with a single door. The floors and walls were all covered in a white padding; she could feel it underneath her, as her ass and back sank into it. It looked like one of the old padded cells she had heard of that they put extreme mental patients in when there was a fear they would hurt themselves. There was something skin tight all over her amazing body, clinging to every crevice like a second skin. She looked down, and could see that every inch of her was sealed into some sort of skintight rubber suit; mostly clear with only a tinge of bronze to indicate it was there. Her huge breasts strained mightily against the rubber that coated them like it was painted on. She could see that under the rubber skin, there were thin bands around the base of each of her tits, squeezing just tight enough to force her breasts to balloon outward even more into their rubber prison. She brought her hands up to see if there was any way to rip into the rubber encasement, and was horrified to see that each hand had been forced into a tight, immobile fist, and into the ends of the sleeves of the rubber suit. The rubber from the wrists down was several times thicker and stiffer than over the rest of her body, not allowing any movement in her clenched fingers. ...

Amanda Night left the party like she had left almost every party since she had turned 13, completely drunk and wasted. She refused the offer of a ride home, telling anyone that would listen to her slurred words that she could drive better drunk than any of them could sober. No one believed her, as it was a well known fact that she was facing serious jail time for multiple drunk driving infractions, including an injury accident that promised at least a year in jail. She had not been expressly invited to the party, but she was a part of some reality show on one of the millions of channels on the tube and as such was always privy to whatever parties were happening. The network that broadcast her series secretly made every effort to get her into every Hollywood social setting it could, since her being drunk and spoiled and slutty were what made her show the minor hit it was. So no one tried to stop her when she slid behind her moms late model BMW, and screeched off. It was one of the few nights in the last few months where there wasn’t a camera crew following closely behind her, and that lack of supervision was about to cost her everything. She pulled out of the long driveway, and a bit confused about where she was, immediately took a wrong turn. Even in her inebriated state she knew right away that the scenery was all wrong. She was feeling sick to her stomach and just wanted to lie down for a couple minutes, when a turn came up too quickly for her dulled senses to compensate for. The car went straight over a mail box, then planted itself into a hedge, with Amanda shaken up badly, but otherwise unhurt. She could see she had come to rest outside of one of the countless mansions that dotted this side of the hills of Hollywood. Groggily she opened the door and threw up, barely able to keep herself from falling into her own sick. She groped around for her purse and phone, but could not find them under the seat of the car where they had fallen. Someone was coming towards her from the house, and Amanda waited patiently for whoever it was to arrive and fix things. A slender, late middle aged woman appeared in front of Amanda. ...

Satine was the most desired, most well compensated professional dominatrix in all of New York City. This was for a very good reason, as she was close to six feet tall, with long, straight fire red hair, massive, firm and natural tits, and a serious sadistic streak that she loved using on wealthy perverts. Bob Eastwick was a wealthy pervert, except his tastes ran towards dominating women, not being dominated by them. He had noticed Satine over a year before, and had worked constantly over that time to find out everything about her. He knew that she genuinely hated men, that she worked in an upscale brothel located in a Soho, that she was fabulously wealthy with her lifestyle, and most importantly that she lived out on Long Island, in a large, ocean front house, with an assortment of women coming and going in her life. That discovery of her house, and also of her real name, (The not nearly as exotic Jennifer Monroe) allowed Eastwick to plot his obsession. To kidnap and take Satine and keep her as a bondage sex slave for as long as she remained beautiful. ...

My name is Tina, and I am into self-bondage and erotic torment. I love wearing restrictive clothing; my co-workers might never believe what I usually wear under my business clothing. After reading some articles on the net, I decided to put a plan into action I have been considering for some time. I wanted to be hopelessly bound and relentlessly tormented. The preparations were fairly extensive - but that’s part of the fun. ...