Having It All (38 page)

Jim stuffed Sandy's left breast into the first cone, making sure that the entire mass of soft tissue would fit inside the cone and checking to see if the nipple was in fact aimed at the pointed, capped end of the cone. Then he tightened the clamp at the cone's wide mouth, securing it around the root of the breast. As he adjusted this clamp, he allowed the tissue to move forward, away for the chest wall and fill the cone's enclosure, pushing the nipple towards the narrow end. Sandy groaned, tired to move and found that only her toes responded. The pain in her breast increased as Jim tightened the clamp further and the cone compressed the sensitive tissue. He tightened each of the remaining clamps just enough to force the breast tissue to bulge enticingly between each band. Once he was satisfied with the clamp's efficiency, Jim connected small straps around the outer surface of the cone to the D rings and buckles on the top of the corset and the bottom of the neck corset/collar. He then forced the right breast into the second cone and repeated the same action as he had done with the left one.

Jim stepped back to survey his work. Sandy was a rigid, upright mummy, encased in tight black stretch fabric with dozens of straps and lacings holding every part of her body in an immovable retention. It occurred to Jim that even if she was encased in cement she would not have been more effectively immobilized. He made a mental note of this. The pointed twin cones of her large tits emphasized the degree of restraint being continuously applied to every body part. She breathed slowly through the twin nose openings and her coned tits rose and fell in a short arc. Otherwise, nothing moved. She made no sounds.

That was when it dawned on Jim that he was not quite finished. He remembered the last minute design change made in the tit cones and he stepped over to Sandy and began to remove the small end caps on the cones. Then he again used a small power screwdriver on each of the adjustable metal clamps on the cones. As the clamp screws turned, the cones slowly compressed, forcing the mammary flesh inside them to compress even more. Jim continued adjusting each clamp until finally, the stretched and reddened nipples slowly peeked out the ends of the cones.

“Well, hell,” Jim laughed, tweaking the shiny nips as they protruded from the cone enclosures. “You squeeze tit flesh and it has to go somewhere. And now you know why I insisted that you take out your nipple rings, don't you?”

Sandy vibrated slightly and from inside the constricting head corset, a faint whimper emerged.

“Well, no nip rings today, sweetheart. I've got something else more interesting,” Jim said, squeezing the right nip between his forefinger and thumb until a tiny droplet of milky substance oozed out. Jim went to his supply of tools and equipment and returned to Sandy's side with what looked like a long knitting needle. He inserted the pointed end of the needle into the ring hole in the right nipple, pushed it through and kept going until he penetrated the left nip as well. Meanwhile, the noise from inside the head corset increased in volume and intensity and the mummified body shook and jumped in its restraints. Jim adjusted the overhead winch, lifting the corseted body off the floor. The shuddering continued, but the noise abated.

He centered the knitting needle so that it was evenly positioned between the cone-restrained tits with an inch or more extending out from each side. Then he took a foot long length of chain and slipped the ends over the protruding ends of the knitting needle. He tied a length of line to the center of the chain and walked over to the wall, activated another winch in the overhead and took up the slack in the line until the chain and needle were putting tension on the pierced nipples. Satisfied with the result, he tied it off.

With another length of rope, Jim placed a loop around Sandy's fisted hands and pulled this to the opposite wall. In this way, she was secured to both walls and remained hanging from the ceiling. Jim went back to Sandy once again and brought up a strap that had been left dangling from the top of her arm binder where it enclosed her upper arms. He ran this strap through the large ring on the plate at the top of her head corset and slowly pulled it back, bringing her head into an even more strained backward position than the collar enforced. Seeing the stress on her breathing, Jim adjusted the neck corset until he could see that it would not present a restriction for breathing air. The he finished the backward strap in its buckle and tied off the ends of the neck corset's lacing.

“Prototype test initiated,” exclaimed Jim with enthusiasm, as he noted the time and checked to see that all video and still cameras were still operating. “Time for a beer.”

Inside her cocoon, Sandy tested each part of the corset system. Nothing gave, nothing moved. Her toes moved slightly inside the heels she still wore, but nothing else moved, no matter what she tried. She realized that even in her most exotic and creative dreams, she had not yet encountered anything like this and this, she knew, was real. The multiple elements of this system were well beyond anything she could have created or imagined and the concept itself was so perverse, so distinctly dominating that it left nothing else to be done. She realized that if Jim had wanted to, he could have added a butt plug or second dildoe to her seething crotch, but knowing him, she felt that he would probably do this in time anyway. On the other hand, she fantasized that perhaps he intended to fuck her while she was still enclosed in the system, so perhaps that was why her rear entry had not been plugged. The dildoe in her cunt was certainly doing its job, alternating on and off, slow and rabid, without any warnings or predictability. Sandy knew that she didn't need anything else to make her come as she had been doing ever since the waist cinching portions of the system were laced and strapped up. One orgasm after another came and went. Because she could not move, the frustrations were worse, she thought, than if she was being tantalized and NOT allowed to come. Being totally enclosed and immobile was worse. Much worse.

Chapter Eighteen

Bagged

Sandy continued to have her realistic dreams at night. Nothing that she and Jim engaged in during the day seemed to help abate the seemingly random dream sequences that came and went, but there was apparently some connection between what they did in their sex fantasies and the dream contents. Sandy shared this information with Jim and her shrink and all three of them decided to conduct a series of experiments.

“If this works the way you think it might,” Sandy said to Dr. Roth, her psychiatrist, “will it help me?”

“I don't know,” said Roth, “but I cannot see any harm in trying.”

“So,” said Sandy, “what do we do next?”

“Wait for the next dream, then tell Jim and me exactly what you recall and then you two try and emulate it, as closely as possible without, of course, endangering yourself.”

“A lot of what we do seems hazardous to many outsiders,” Sandy said calmly. “But in fact, I don't think we take any serious chances. Statistically anyway, I am more at risk driving here to your office or walking across the street from the parking garage.”

“That may be true,” posed Roth, “but I must warn you that I am not, in any way condoning the aberrant behavior that you and your partner tend to focus on and indulge upon.”

“We know that.”

“Furthermore, I must counsel you strongly not to do anything that involves such things as impairing your breathing, especially anything that goes around your neck or might plug your windpipe, to use layman's terms,” Dr. Roth cautioned.

“Okay, Doc. I got it. I'll phone you or email you or text you after the next dream and tell you what we have planned. Do you want to come over to the house to observe?”

“No. I am not sure that is acceptable ethically, medically or legally. I cannot be an observer or participant in anything you do that constitutes dangerous action on either of your parts.”

“Not a problem, Doc. Thanks. See you next week,” Sandy said and left the doctor's office.

When she got home, she told Jim the plan and then they went on with their individual day work. That night, they prepared for bed as usual. Making the decision about how Sandy would sleep, Jim decided that she would spend the night in the new corset and a rubber body bag, strapped down to the stainless steel coroner’s dissection table in the guest room, which adjoined the master bedroom. He said that this was the best way for him to monitor her while she slept and although she was not in favor of the corset and bag combination, Sandy agreed to it and prepared herself.

The corset, which was the finished version of the prototype they originally experimented with, had several enhancements. For one thing, it was a great deal easier to get in and out of because once the measurements were correct, there was a lot less in the way of fasteners and fabric in the completed version. Still, it took them about half an hour to get Sandy sealed in the black body corset and onto the cold steel table with the handy fittings for braces and restraints. The rubber body bag was another custom job that Jim commissioned and it fit Sandy well, with or without the corset. When she was finally sealed in the double restrictive system with only her head in its own corset still visible, Jim asked her again to indicate if she wanted what they called the Space Suit helmet or the “balloon”.

“Space suit?” Jim asked. No response

“Balloon?” A slight hum and an even slighter nod from Sandy.

“Okay. Good night, honey. Sweet, sexy dreams.”

Jim pulled the stretched neck of the enclosure down over the head corset, making sure that Sandy's breathing tubes and the dual electronic “let me out” contacts were active, safe and clear. Once the rubber bag completely covered her head, he sealed the neck opening with a rigid metal and rubber collar that mated the body bag and the head balloon into one single unit. Then he attached the bag's hoses from the pumps and turned them on. Both electric air pumps wheezed and purred, but they were not inflating the rubber bags. Instead, according to Jim's plan, which he had not shared with Sandy, they sucked air out of the bags, creating a vacuum which drew the rubber fabric tight and snug around Sandy's corseted figure, soon outlining the curves and angles of the corseted, immobilized female within. When he shut off the pumps and checked the gauge that showed a near zero vacuum inside, Jim was pleased to see that Sandy was now just a perfectly formed, black rubber statute. Her somewhat pointed breasts with their large nipple caps remained the single most prominent aspect of the sealed, vacuum-formed figure, followed by her little nose and then her feet, which were held more or less flat by the restrictive shoes and the foot corsets. All in all, the small promontories of nose, tits and feet were a nice touch to the silent black statute reclining on the steel table, but the tits continued to attract Jim's erotic attention. He was tired, but proceeded in applying the eight straps to the motionless body, every few seconds checking the overhead displays showing Sandy's respiration, blood pressure, oxygen levels, body temperature in mouth and rectum, skin temperature, and several body chemistry readings. The strap system was, of course, totally unnecessary and redundant, but it was just the icing on the black stature cake and Jim was a stickler for details. The first strap went over her already deeply compressed waist, pressing her down further against the steel tabletop and crushing her ass even more than the bag and corset had already done.

“Must be an interesting feeling,” Jim said to himself as he pulled the second strap snug across the slightly pointed tits and watched them compress somewhat but, because of the cones and clamps, fail to flatten. “I keep getting conflicted over whether we want your tits and ass reduced to flat blocks of fat and muscle or to leave them clamped and extended. What a fuckin' annoying dilemma,” he added as he repositioned the breast straps around the projections of her clamped, conical tits.

The third strap went across Sandy's shoulders and the fourth held her head stable, pinning her forehead, what there was of it, to the cushioned headrest of the table.

Strap number five went over the top of her thighs. Number six went over her lower thighs, just above the knees, number seven was tightened below the knees and number eight at the ankles. Each was equipped with heavy roller buckles and could be snugged down terribly tight, but since Sandy was in the bag for the night, Jim only applied moderate pressure and tension as he studied Sandy's vital signs and made appropriate adjustments when it appeared that one or more straps were too tight. Jim checked the gauges again and noted that her body temperature was a bit too high for his liking, so he opened a small valve in the foot of the bag and adjusted another that was at the top of the head enclosure. Even though the bag was almost a vacuum inside, these valves allowed cool liquid to slowly circulate through the entire capsule. In five minutes, Sandy's body temperature was back to normal. Once her pulse and respiration slowed to normal sleep levels, Jim again checked the displays and went to bed.

Inside the double constraints of corsets and evacuated bag, Sandy studied her feelings as the suction pressed the bags tightly against every portion of her body. She found it remarkable that even though the corset seemed to leave no space for additional compression, the vacuum in the bag, and then, later, the eight body straps added more sensuous pressure. She felt the cooling solution begin to circulate and this relaxed her even more. A few minutes later, Sandy settled down in a sleep mode, controlling her breathing and letting the pressure take hold, imagining that she was sinking into deep water and the increasing pressure from all sides was the catalyst to put her into a deep, restful sleep.

Chapter Nineteen