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  The heavy garments were slowly removed, the weighty layers peeled away. Lydia felt like she was made of feathers, her body seeming to rise as she was freed of all encumbrances.

  The first steps she took from the dropped folds rose high, her frame almost leaping into the air so used had she become to being weighed down by the unconscionable latex anchors.

  The dildos were drawn free, finally freeing her of chafing stimulation. Her face was liberated from the masks and she yelped in shock. The light pained her eyes greatly because she had become totally used to blackness.

  Keeping them screwed shut, Lydia languished blind and naked on the floor. Her skin felt as though it was made of sponge, the constant sweat having pruned her.

  The women helped her up onto her feet and drew her aside. Her attempts at speech failed, her larynx having forgotten how to operate after its prolonged and enforced silence.

  The women locked her limbs in the detached arms of a pillory. The solid steel jaws clamped to her wrists and neck, preventing her fingers from reaching her face.

  The women gathered and grappled her form, immobilizing her. Lydia’s mouth was then pried open by rough fingers. Suddenly something was plunged down her throat, a slippery tube rattling into her esophagus. Her weak resistance was easily contained by the women, her body able to do nothing to affect them as she retched and spluttered from the awful feeling of the pipe riding down into her stomach.

  One of the horrendous oval gags was the culmination of the pipe and it entered her mouth after forcing her jaws even wider. The rubber balloons started to quickly billow outward, slamming into her cheeks, stretching her jaws, filling her mouth to a nightmare extent. Mewling and bucking, Lydia tried to find a way to stop them, her fingers clawing at the air just millimeters short of the accursed device. At the familiar keen peak of inflation the instrument fell quiet, plugging her maw, the vast trespasser too big for her to spit out.

  Two slim wires were pushed into her nostrils, the tubes plunging down her throat and with a steady rasping hiss they started to control her breath.

  The rattle of chains sounded and a winch grabbed the four comers of her stocks, hauling her into the air. She wriggled and snorted, the weight of her body upon the steel excessively distressing. She couldn’t be suspended like this, she’d suffer permanent damage if she was, and her panic started to make her more and more wild in her fight.

  Hands grabbed her ankles and she started to descend, being lowered into some sort of tube. She kicked forward, yelling against the gag as she discovered how restrictive her new environment would be. The tome of dense plastic rang out with each strike and she found she was unable to bring her legs up to her chest, the pipe being too slim to permit it.

  Fighting for adequate breath she heard something clang shut above her and a steady popping emerged beneath her dangling toes. Warm gelatinous liquid touched her feet and she tried to recoil, afraid of what it might be. The level of thick viscous sludge continued to rise, slowly filling the tube. The level cleared her knees, then her waist, easing the burden of her body on the pillory. Her breasts were submerged and then her neck, leaving her floating in a warm vat.

  As the waters cleared the stocks, she gained just enough hesitant vision to see that she was in a translucent shaft of plastic. A solid metal lid had been closed above her, the chains vanishing through small holes. A corrugated rubber hose emerged from the center and fed to her gag, granting her distended mouth access to food while the two hoses that ran up along the sides of it managed her air. Beyond the tube she could just about make out the black form of the woman, flanked by naked slaves that blankly watched the flooding of her prison.

  The fluid was thick and clinging, like treacle, to which her body found difficulty in moving against it. The blue tinted flow continued to rise, reaching over her face making her close her eyes as the pipe was filled to capacity.

  Hanging in the viscid interior of the aquarium, Lydia breathed steadily, kept calm by automated respiration. She was unable to panic because of the reins the two nose tubes kept on her lungs. Moving meekly against the syrup, life started to return to her body. The boredom of her containment was negligible; her mind still lost in the dull haze of her sentence as a humbled rubber mannequin. Ordinarily, she would be mad with tedium, wriggling, fighting the tank. But in her current mental apathy she was indifferent and resigned to whatever treatment this tube was destined to deliver.

  After an unknown duration in the shaft the lid opened and she was dragged from the syrup, her body running with stretching lines of clinging slime. Settling onto the floor as a contorted heap, the stocks were removed and the gag deflated. Lydia doubled up with a spluttering choke as the three tubes slithered from her tracts, her body breaking into convulsions.

  Breathing unaided for the first time since being placed in the tube, she was picked up by the maids and drawn aside, her feet sliding against the floor.

  A set of steps led into hot waters, the sunken pool of warmth rising to her waist as the women drew her deep into the center and started to bathe her. Still unable to even open her eyes, Lydia luxuriated in the feel of them as they applied soap and sponges to cleanse her of the medicated slime that had healed her skin. The waters were soothing and stole her dregs of strength through a strange osmosis, the process leaving her pliant and supple.

  The attention lingered for a long time as she was stripped of the layers her various ordeals had imparted. Once satisfactorily clean she was led out and gently covered by a robe before being led to another chamber.

  Once within, she was taken to a bed and laid down, her exhaustion allowing her to slip deep into sleep for the first time since she could remember. Her amnesia was still strong and crushed all other thoughts. The severity of her imprisonment was outshining any other engram as a vivid dream took hold, sinking its claws into her, using actual memory and events to make it clearer.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sitting at a desk, Lydia looked over the terminal. The chaotic flow of data flicked back and forth, unattended by her. The boredom was making her mind numb.

  With an irritated sigh she lifted herself from her chair and wandered through the maze of cubicles, her passage ignored by the army of data processors. Entering the toilets, the doors closed and cut off the cacophony from without. The dull hum of the neon light was now the only sound except the click of her heels as she walked to the mirror behind the line of sinks.

  Looking at herself in the mirror she followed the rigid contours of her dark suit, the short skirt giving way to dark nylon before reaching her court shoes. Inflamed by the tedium of the day her libido was thrashing within her like a landed fish, her mind drifting to carnality after having constantly been dwelling on erotic thoughts. She couldn’t hold them back any more; they were distracting her from work. She needed to attend her pent-up frustration so she could at least get through the rest of the day.

  Moving into one of the chambers she closed the door and drew the latch shut. Taking a warm, succulent breath of the processed cool air she sat herself on the toilet seat. Her eyes fluttered shut, her mind was caught up in a hedonistic whirlwind.

  Acting almost of their own volition, as though they were the arms of a shadowy lover, her hands opened her jacket and slid through her shirt and slithered under her satin bra to cup her breasts and thumb her nipples.

  Clenching her jaw she murmured softly and continued to manipulate the stiffening nuggets. Temptation overcame the need for safety and she let the hands lower, rolling down the crisp white shirt and drawing up the form-hugging folds of her skirt. Creeping beneath, her fingers located her humid sex, her hosiery and matching panties moist from her long periods of diligent fantasizing. Her mouth dropped open and she arched slightly, her legs tensing as she covertly stroked herself and the material allowed sedate ripples of vibration.

  The door to the toilets opened and someone entered.

  “Lydia? You in here?” Asked a familiar voice. She was tempte
d to corrupt her voice and lie, but thought better of it.

  “Yes!” she snapped angrily.

  “The boss is looking for you, and it sounds urgent,” she responded. Then she heard the sound of running water as the woman washed her hands to give the impression that she had entered the room for something other than summoning Lydia.

  Grinding her teeth she snarled and straightened her garb. As her hand touched the latch she turned and remembered to flush before stepping out. Ignoring the employee she marched back to her desk, her frustration even more intense following the tease of interrupted masturbation.

  “Miss Brooks, please come to my office,” commanded her employer. The manager waved his hand in an irritating manner he always used. No one dared complain about it to his face, but they all mercilessly mocked him in private.

  Sliding her chair back she rose and wandered over, the office still resounding with the myriad clicks and tapping of dozens of keyboards being frantically pounded by busy fingertips.

  Entering the small office she flicked her eye to the plaque, the words, “Mr. D. Bronson”, were etched into the polished gold rectangle in black letters. The manager closed the door and he indicated her to the seat before his desk.

  Lydia took a stride forward and suddenly his hands grabbed her from behind.

  Before she could speak, he slammed her forward against the desk, her torso dropping onto the surface with a heavy thud. Pens and papers were sent flying, spilling from the edges and onto the carpet.

  With a gasp of shock she felt him pin her down onto the surface. Her hands flicked back to try and claw him off, but he was situated in a position she could not easily reach.

  Her wrists were snagged and hauled back, the weak joints being held together as he snatched the telephone cord and wound it round in tight loops. The cable bit into her flesh, causing her to mewl in calamity and then unleash a croak of distress as he folded them up her spine and quickly used the excess to ensnare her throat, crimping her breath. The mild strangulation served two purposes: first it made any pull of her arms to get free elevate their effects and stop her respiration entirely, and secondly it prevented her from screaming by subduing her breath enough to leave her softly wheezing just enough to stay alive.

  Floundering on the desk, she felt him yank her skirt over her hips and sink his fingers into her tights. With a wrench of effort the delicate fabrics were parted, creating a wide slash so he could delve his fingers into her buttocks. Closing a fist to the rear of her panties he hauled back, shredding them at the front so they came away in his grasp.

  Lydia’s stifled howl of response as she was stripped was slain when he forced the underwear into her mouth, stuffing it in with harsh pokes, stretching her jaws and squashing her tongue the taste of her own moisture still powerful upon the fabric. The cord about her neck was removed and instead was used to drag around her head. It slipped into her maw, the numerous coils keeping the cloth gag in place. Wriggling, her wrists connected to the band around her head, she kicked and thrashed madly, but he was between her thighs and she could not reach him.

  Strong hands snagged her ankles and she wailed as he bent her legs back and used more cord to attend her extremities. Winding it around the ankle and instep of her shoes, he forged a tight anchor and then applied the rest of the wire about her upper thighs.

  Grabbing her at the shoulder and legs he started to move her, pulling her upright so that she was left kneeling away from him, her rear hovering on the edge of the table. Her legs were pinned beneath her, her arms folded up her spine and her head was craned back by the irresistible plexus of wire.

  Like a living ornament on his desk, she shuffled and tried to escape him, but it was impossible.

  Hands reached around to her front, opening her jacket and then tearing apart the front of her shirt sending buttons dancing across the surfaces and onto the floor.

  The same fists sundered her bra, exposing her breasts to a forceful fondling. Hollering against the gag, she answered his rough caresses and then froze as she heard a zip descend.

  Without delay he guided himself into her with testing stabs, locating her dripping sex and then plunging in with a ruthless plunge. Her yowl of indignation seeped through her gag and she shuddered upon him, his thrusting shaft drilling into her despite all her attempts to deny him

  With his hot breath on the back of her neck, his hands kneading her breasts, she wrung her fists. The jab of pain transformed into delightful pleasure, the gag becoming sodden with her spit as she knelt on the table and started to revel in her subjugation.

  He dragged free and exploited the sheen of lubrication to force his passage into her rear, the flaring havoc of his pummeling entry making her fling herself to attention and cry out. The mayhem swiftly vanished to be replaced by the hesitant bliss of his pounding shaft. His impressive length driving deep into her, his fingers squeezing and turning her nipples.

  Again he pulled free, changing his mind yet again, deciding to finish his ravishment in his initial area of trespass. Thrusting back into her womb, he accelerated swiftly, his hands becoming more spiteful to her helpless breasts as he neared climax.

  Upon a shivering drive she felt his semen pour into her and she tensed with a squeal of her own ecstasy.

  Withdrawing from her burning tracts, he dragged her from the table as though she was an inanimate piece of office furniture and laid her on her back, her limb twisted beneath her.

  Placing a polished designer shoe onto her stomach, he applied weight to keep her suppressed and grabbed a long ruler. Lydia squealed in dismay as he cast it up over his head and then she broke into fits as he started to spank her breasts with the accursed instrument. The plastic rectangle swatted down again and again, sending quaking ripples through her assets, the loud clapping spanks echoing in the room as she jerked under his controlling foot.

  After treating her to a sound session of chastisement he pulled her up and with a shove installed her beneath his desk in the alcove between drawers where his chair was normally tucked.

  Knelt in this small kennel, her back to the wooden pane beyond, Lydia watched him sit down and slide in. His hand unfastened the cord and snagged the nape of her neck. Once she spat free the cloth, he started to draw her down onto his still engorged length. With her arms still locked behind her back she closed her mouth onto the penis and began to suck at it, her tongue rolling around the tip and lips stretching wide, as she listened to him commence work without any clue as to her existence.

  Closing her eyes she savored the taste of him, her own flavor still loitering on the skin of his shaft as she rolled her head back and forth, bound and controlled under the desk.

  The door opened and she heard his lunch being delivered, the sweet smells wafting down as she continued the fellatio with attentive verve, eager to coax forth another salty snack for herself.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The smell of food stirred Lydia from sleep and at first she thought it was the lingering dream, but then she felt the absence of her cocoon and no desk about her.

  She snapped upright, stretching to ensure there was nothing upon her or around her, and all she found was the bed on which she had been slumbering contentedly.

  Her eyes had been gently exposed to the light that streamed in through the windows of the opulent bedchamber and now she felt she could risk opening them without fear that her retinas would be burned out.

  Examining her surroundings through a cautious squint, Lydia looked across the bright room, the pale walls and white covers reflecting the golden rays that were divine after being condemned to the hellish depths below.

  The scent of food still stoked her hunger and she sought out the origin. Moving quickly, her physique had been slimmed by malnourishment but maintained to a degree by the perpetual exercise in the Stigean bowels of the palace.

  A small tray atop a dressing table offered a plate of food and without pause she dropped onto the stool and started to shovel it i
n with speed, refusing use of utensils because they were not as quick nor adept as her fingers. The glorious flavors made her close her eyes and tilt her head back in rapture. The best feeling was swallowing the succulent morsels and the reveling in her vacant belly being filled with something more significant than frugal nutrient pastes.

  With the plate cleared and licked clean she tried the door and found it locked. Rather than continuing to waste effort in finding an exit (after all, she no longer wanted escape), Lydia chose to flop back onto the bed, cradling her stomach like a treasure, delighting in her freedom.

  Already she looked upon her grim situation with fond eyes, and if she had the chance, in a short while she would probably want to return there.

  Staring blankly at the ceiling her hand snaked down between her legs, tickling her neglected sex. How Lydia enjoyed the nostalgic retrospective examination of her trial. She pictured once more the heady folds of latex enveloping her, the weight dragging her down as she was held a prisoner, the dildos alive within her as she was lost in darkness. Closing her eyes to simulate the same blindness, she stroked herself openly, gifting herself with pleasure as she dragged out the powerful memories of her prison.

  Clawing at the blankets while she succumbed to onanistic delight, she abruptly stopped and flipped over when she heard the door open, the metallic click of the lock gave her warning to hide her furtive self-abuse before it was discovered.

  Looking up as though from sleep she saw three women entering, their bodies naked except a metal chastity belt that encircled their abdomens and held them in enforced abstinence. Their heads were snared by metal hoods that flowed along their contours, granting them metal skin and a bald appearance with only two narrow eye slits and a long hole at the mouth.