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 brightglare.

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 a new 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 and 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 the 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 sickleave. 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 thegrowing 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 shec ould 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

icecubes, 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 successfull, 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 mushy

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 for ceher fingers under the

dome. Nothing doing. Her fingers would have to 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-consciouswould 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 sherolled 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.